My printed letters of comment – Stormwatch v2 #2

Here is a scan of my letter about the end of Stormwatch series 1:


If you have read some of this blog, you'll know that I'm a big fan of Warren Ellis, so I was quite chuffed to get a letter printed in a comic written by him. I don't have much of a life.

This feeling was taken down by the fact that they printed my email signature, which was to do with work (I've erased it from the scan), and by the reply from the editor, which I think completely failed to see the point of my letter; I wasn't slagging anyone off, and love the work of the people I mentioned, I was just praising Ellis in particular for the way he ends a story.

Who cares? I got a letter printed in a comic I was enjoying. In the words of The Fast Show, 'Brilliantttttttttttt!!!!'

My printed letters of comment – Challengers of the Unknown #9

After all the light negativity of my Trimming the Collection posts, I thought I would let some of my old positivity take centre stage for a bit.

Here is a scan of my printed letter in The Challengers of the Unknown of the late '90s. (Click to enlarge.)

As a fan of comics, getting a letter printed was brilliant, and I'm still happy about it to this day. However, looking back over this, I did go a bit overboard in my discussion of the book. They must not have been getting many letters at the time, if they printed that one. Still, it doesn't diminish my feeling of being connected to history, having my name in the back of a comic book. A small thing, the grand scheme of things, but a nice one nonetheless.

I enjoyed the incarnation of the team, helped by the wonderfully moody art of John Paul Leon, and was sad to see it end at #18. It was fun while it lasted, though, as my letter hopefully shows.

An (old) attempt at journalism

(What follows is an article I wrote about comic book movies that I was considering sending out to publications. I never felt very happy about it, so it never saw the light of day. However, I thought I should put it on my blog, as an indicator of my writing ability [or, rather, lack of] and as a historical curio – the last paragraph tells you when it was originally written.)

Comic Books Conquer Hollywood

Spider-Man was a throwaway idea from Stan Lee back in 1961. He knew that Amazing Fantasy, a comic being published by Marvel for whom he was editor, was being cancelled so he decided – on a whim – to put in his story of a young boy who, after being bitten by a radioactive spider, becomes imbued with super human powers. In 2002, Spider-Man, the movie, broke box office records in the United States, grossing over $100 million in its opening weekend. Comic books had become hot property.

The symbiosis between Hollywood and comic books wasn't always this cosy. Cinema had dipped into the funny books since the early days. Serials of comic strips such as Flash Gordon were mainstays of complete features, and Superman made an early appearance too. However, comics were seen as 'kid's stuff' and were therefore not considered worthy of the industry. In fact, the biggest success for comic books in the mainstream consciousness was on television in the 1960s, when the camp and kitsch Batman aired regularly on Saturday mornings. The series paved the way for the later attempts at turning the serial storytelling of comics into the weekly schedule of television, with adaptations of the The Incredible Hulk, Wonder Woman and Spider-Man. Taking 'creative' liberties with the source material (the Hulk has a name change, and becomes a wondering soul, while Spider-Man is bafflingly relocated to Los Angeles, notable for its lack of the skyscrapers that populate the skyline of the original New York), they produced several series and imprinted catchphrases ('You wouldn't like me when I'm angry') and theme tunes ('Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a spider can') on a generation.

It was the original super hero, Superman, however, who led the way into Hollywood and the big time. In 1978, people were told that they would believe a man could fly, and believe they did. The story of Hollywood's love affair with comics can be seen as the story of technology. This can be seen with Superman, as special effects were reaching a stage where camera trickery could make a man hanging from string look like a superhuman flying gracefully through the air. Comics don't need special effects to create the same illusion; pencil, paper and imagination are relatively cheap but computers and computer generated imagery require money and a level of sophistication to achieve the same willing suspension of disbelief. Superman spawned three sequels of lessening quality, grounding to a halt after the last one. Batman, in 1989, didn't require much in the way of special effects, being the story of a man who trains himself to the pinnacle of human condition to avenge the murder of his parents when he was a young boy. Staying fairly true to the comics (even if the fans were aghast when Michael Keaton was cast as their hero), the film exploded into the mainstream, with the film, merchandise and the comic books getting some of the action. Everyone was happy. The second film was decent, but the later Joel Schumacher films, particularly Batman and Robin in 1997, were hugely derided, with the emphasis on set design and paying large salaries to stars to play the pun-spouting villains (cough, Arnold Schwarzenegger, cough) and Batman, and comic book films, were cast aside as quickly as they had been embraced.

There had been other comic book adaptations during these years. Howard the Duck, by George Lucas, was about a talking and singing duck. It didn't do well, surprisingly. A version of The Punisher with Dolph Lundgren was similarly awful. A Captain America film was made that wasn't even released theatrically in its home country and there was a Fantastic Four film made by the Corman studio on no budget, which somewhat defeats the purpose. All of these films were adapted from Marvel comic books, who had no idea how to market their properties. Dark Horse, a smaller company, had more success making economically viable films from their books: The Mask, which saw Jim Carrey and Cameron Diaz in early starring roles; Time Cop, with Jean Claude van Damme; Mystery Men, with Ben Stiller and William H. Macy; and Barb Wire, a distaff version of Casablanca, starring Pamela Anderson and her breasts. Another independent book, The Crow, spawned three relatively successful films, although the first one saw the untimely demise of its star, Brandon Lee, son of Bruce. A big success, for an independent comic, was The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a black and white book, that went on to spawn three silly but successful films; who can forget the sight of four men in turtle costumes doing kung fu, with their giant rat sensei, eating pizza and shouting 'Cowabunga, dudes'?

Things weren't good for comic books films in the 90s. Dick Tracy was colourful but slight. Judge Dredd saw Sylvester Stallone take off the famous helmet just to show his face. Spawn was all special effects and no story, while Steel saw the basketball player, Shaq O'Neal, don a ludicrous metal outfit in his bid for stardom. However, in 1997, one of the most successful adaptations was a film that nobody knew had been a comic book. Men in Black was another small independent book transformed into a science fiction comedy that was an almost perfect cinema experience. In 1998, a supporting character from a cult Marvel comic book, Blade, a vampire hunter, became a box office success, capturing the vampire/martial arts zeitgeist. But 2000 saw comic books as a source of potent franchise material. X-Men was a surprise hit but, more importantly, a good film, tackling the themes and characters (if not the garish costumes) of the book and doing it well. Comic book films were cool again, and film studios wanted the rights to make them for themselves.

A scattershot approach followed in the wake of this success, as expected from a place where 'nobody knows nothing' according to William Goldman. From Hell is a huge, dense, intelligent piece of work dissecting the mythos behind Jack the Ripper. The film was a 'cop on the edge' thriller, with varying degrees of success. The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen was a delightful comic book series, using characters from Victorian fiction. The film was a noisy, brainless, soulless action film which even Sean Connery couldn't revive. On the other hand, Ghost World was a thoughtful, intelligent and absorbing drama based on the work of Dan Clowes. In the arena of superheroes, Marvel heroes Daredevil and the Hulk made big splashes without overly impressing people in general but it was Spider-Man, a spectacular blockbuster that captures the comic book perfectly while still being a film in its own right, that changed everything for ever. The largest opening weekend of all time told Hollywood that superheroes equal money in the bank. The delays turning Spider-Man into a movie involving legal issues between various studios proved to be fortuitous, as it allowed CGI the time to catch up, enabling the movie makers to have Spider-Man fly through New York landmarks.

The comic book bandwagon kept on rolling. Oscar winner Sam Mendes directed Oscar winners Tom Hanks and Paul Newman in the adaptation of a 'graphic novel' (the acceptable term for a big comic book), Road To Perdition, going on to win an Oscar for director of photography Conrad L. Hall. To balance the scales, Bulletproof Monk was a lamentable film about, well, a bulletproof monk, that failed critically and commercially. The sequel to X-Men, X2, was a critical and commercial success, appropriate for the most successful comic book series in the industry. Seemingly, when a film captures the essence of the comic while transferring it successfully to the medium of cinema, the rewards are manifold. When it doesn't, it deserves the failure.

This year, the sub-genre that is the comic book movie has the Spider-Man sequel, Hellboy, a big-budget version of The Punisher, and Catwoman with Oscar winner Halle Berry. X-Men 3, Blade 3, a new Batman film, a spin-off from Daredevil in the form of Elektra, a big budget Fantastic Four film, Ghost Rider, and Wonder Woman are all in the offing at various stages of production. The future for comic book movies looks bright indeed. There will probably come a time when comic book movies aren't so eagerly anticipated, and big stars will no longer don spandex in the name of entertainment, which is when they don't make any money anymore. But, for now, we can enjoy the thrill and excitement in the cinema that the simple format of the comic book has been providing for over 70 years.

Trimming the Collection: Mutant X #1

I Can't Believe I Own This Comic
Mutant X #1
by Howard Mackie & Tom Raney

Okay, let me justify myself first. I am a sucker for alternate universe stories. Not the boring 'Nazis won World War II' stuff, but skewed versions of fictional worlds that I enjoy. It is a weakness of mine, along with dark-haired woman and Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Secondly, my love of the X-universe from my early days of my comic book passion still affects me in strange ways. Finally, I really dig Tom Raney's art. It's got a cool, funky vibe, with a sharp line, and I've enjoyed it since Stormwatch with Warren Ellis. These are the reasons I bought this book. And not because it's a 'Collector's Item 1st Issue!' as it screams on the cover.


I won't go into too much bashing of Howard Mackie, as this has been done before by better and more-vicious writers than I, but it is quite awful stuff. This is apart from his attempt at lyrical prose: 'I remember dying.' (We wish.) He has Havok complain about the expositional dialogue he spouts concerning the Sentinels in the first pages, where they state everyone's names and powers so the readers know who everyone is, a bad sign when you have to take the piss out of your own poor writing ability. He follows this by having the Sentinels killed by the ultimate weapon – vampire-controlled rats! Genius. Why didn't the X-Men think of that before?

Anyway, for the sake of the story, the Havok of the normal Marvel universe somehow swaps places with a presumably dying Havok of this alternate universe. There could be many reasons for this, but I think it's because our Havok has a really bad costume; look at it, with all the straps and the completely pointless mask bits on his face. Does he have to use that skin glue that gymnasts and Gladiators use so their costumes don't ride up their arse cracks? It's so stupid.




















He's probably glad to be rid of it. It allows him to grow a Raney goatee: it's not quite a full-grown goatee, more stubbly in appearance, and seems to exist in an unnatural shape around the chin and up the side of the jaw. How the hell does he get it like that? I used to have a basic square goatee, and that was a nightmare to keep straight at the best of times; Alex must have to spend hours in the bathroom in the morning getting it to look like that.

The reason I liked the idea behind this book is presented in the page below. The use of X-book continuity to provide alternate versions of the heroes. Alex takes the place of Scott in the original X-Men, leaving with Maddie and child when Magneto (in his gay wrestling costume) takes over the X-Men after Professor X left in issue 200; Ororo is a vampire because of Dracula from an X-Men annual; Bobby is the super-cold version of Iceman from when Loki wanted him to start the last winter in Thor (when Walt Simonson was writing Thor and drawing X-Factor, and his wife Louise was writing the latter); Warren is the angel of death from the Apocalypse incident; Hank is extrapolated into the Brute from all the experimentation his body has gone through; and Maddie is still the Goblyn queen from the Inferno crossover. All extremely geeky, but I can't help but like it. Sad, isn't it?


The story is all very silly, with Nick Fury kidnapping Alex and Maddie's child at Liberty Island, with Elektra as his nanny of course, so we can finish with a fight, but it's not worth writing about. Mackie has taken an idea, slapped an X in it, got a decent artist to draw it and then frittered it all away. Why this was made into an ongoing series is beyond me. Surely it would work better as a small storyline in an existing series? I know that anything with an X in the title got its own book in the '90s, but Havok? When did he deserve that sort of treatment? He is a supporting character at best, not the person to base an entire series around. Did Mackie have incriminating photographs of somebody? Or was it because Mutant X was too good a title (in their minds) NOT to use?

Whatever the reason, I am ashamed to own this book. I can't believe I haven't thrown it in the dustbin where it belongs. I used to justify retaining it by saying that I liked the Raney art, but that's simply not good enough. It's time for me to let go. 'Indiana, let it go …'

Trimming the Collection: Ultimate Daredevil Elektra

Ultimate Daredevil Elektra #1–4
by Greg Rucka & Salvador Larroca

This Ultimatization is essentially a new version of the origin of Elektra; Daredevil does appear, in the form of Matt Murdock in a mask, but it is definitely how the Ultimate Elektra came to be. I'm not sure why they did this. It seems a strange mix of things. The covers have DD and Elektra in costume, when DD doesn't use it in the story, and Elektra doesn't use hers until issue 4. Even then, it is still a strange outfit she has, presumably to make it more 'real world', like the Ultimate X-Men leathers. Is this mini-series supposed to be picking up on buzz from the film? Is it supposed to make Elektra a viable character for the Ultimate universe? And why does it never once explain DD's powers in the book, even though he uses them extensively at one point?

Basically, instead of a rich daddy's girl, Elektra is the daughter of a dry cleaner from Queens, who has done karate since she was 6 years old when her mum died from breast cancer, under the tutelage of Sensei Stone, an old white woman. She is starting her studies at Columbia University, meeting new friends and becoming smitten with Matt Murdock. The reason for her turning to the dark side in this world is the rape of a college friend by a stereotypical rich jock, and his escape from justice due to his father's political connections to powerful people.

After threatening Stereotypical Rich Jock Raper, after which she has a classic heroes-meet-and-fight with Matt dressed in black, the Rich Jock Raper gets people to bomb her father's business. While Matt finds the bombers and gets them to confess, Elektra has planned a trap for the Stereotypical Rich Jock Raper where she will kill him. DD finds out and goes to stop her, revealing himself to her, as she had suspected, but she turns away from DD after sticking a sai in the Raper's thigh.

It's not quite as powerful an origin story as the few pages of Miller's version, is it? Rucka does good dialogue and strong female characters, and Larroca's art is very pretty, pleasing on the eye while telling the story; I particularly liked his use of blurring for the Elektra-Stone sparring. But it serves a weak story idea, that feels like a waste of their talents.

Trimming the Collection: Ash (vol. 1)

Ash vol. 1 (Trade collecting #1–5)
by Joe Quesada & Jimmy Palmiotti

I can't recall if it was Azrael or The Ray where I first saw the dazzling art of Joe Quesada, back when he was just an artist, but I do know that I liked it. It sizzled with energy and a style created perfectly for the comic book. It was different, a little unusual, but detailed and dynamic, and he could tell a story. I looked out for his stuff thereafter, and was excited at being able to get this collection of his co-creator-owned series.

The central idea is a good one; a firefighter superhero. I don't think it's been done before (or since), and seemed an obvious idea when you think about it. However, the strength of the central concept seems to be handled in a strange way, with Ash being a, well, I'm not sure; an alien? A robot? Lifeforce suit? The juxtaposition of the surreal Ash with the real-world horror of people who risk their lives fighting fires doesn't work, seeming bizarre and uncomfortable. Especially when Ashley has to vomit fire in order to become Ash.

The story seems to involve Ashley becoming Ash, with deviations along the way to include other characters that deflect from the central one. The story lacks clarity, confusing the narrative with so many other people – the Brides, Covenant, the Actor, Gabriel – in just five issues that you just want them to slow down and tell the main story.

There are some nice asides, like the appearance of Clark Kent and Lois Lane on the television news, but there is a touch of the artist-proving-he-is-a-writer, with the excess of quotes by famous writers (Dickens, Elliot, Shelley) to justify superheroics. Quesada employs an overly fussy style here, with an excess of flaming lines surrounding Ash whenever he moves, and bizarre extreme close-ups in double-page spreads (well, it was the '90s after all) and there are quite a few of them. It's a case of too much too soon, with everything thrown into the pot without letting any flavours come through. I applaud the efforts of Joe & Jimmy in creating their own company for their own story, which has led to so much, but Ash didn't set my world on fire (apologies for the terrible pun).

Trimming the Collection – Nexus: The Origin

Nexus: The Origin
by Mike Baron & Steve 'The Dude' Rude

Some comic-reading history first. I got the bug in my teens, in the mid-to-late '80s, reading superhero comics, like most other people. For me, it was the X-books; I couldn't get enough Claremont and mutant soap opera. However, by my early 20s, at the start of the '90s, I was beginning my journey into the world of 'other' comic books; non-superhero comics, indies, even, gulp, black & white books. It was a journey of discovery that led me to the wider world of comics, and this book was supposed to be an in-road.

This book was published by Dark Horse in 1992, after unwrangling some of the legal difficulties of the ownership rights. Nexus was one of the great indie successes, starting at Capital before 80 monthly issues at First Comics, before they went tits up. This story was the introduction to the world of Nexus and the amazing art of The Dude. I wasn't going to start tracking down an independent with 80 issues to go through, so this seemed like a perfect sampler.

Nexus is 'the cosmic avenger, the reluctant executioner', an ordinary man given extraordinary powers and haunting dreams about the most despicable beings in the universe, handing out summary justice on them. This story tells the full backstory to his family, how his father was a genocidal army officer who destroyed an entire world, even though he married a woman from the planet and fathered Nexus. It is a strong tale, told well, despite the obviousness of the stand-in bad guys (Sovs and some rather blatant Nazi-types), and the fact that Nexus is essentially a superhero, albeit with a great costume.

The magic here is the art. The Dude can draw something fierce. The art is beautiful in itself, and is powerful and stunningly designed. The visual sense is strong, the singular, easily identifiable style of Rude a feast for the eyes, the soft lines underpinning the dynamic feel. It is quite something. However, this glimpse isn't enough to make me dig through the back-issue bins; I know I'm probably missing out on something quite special, but it's a decision with which I'll try to live.

Trimming the collection: Bastard Samurai #1–3

Bastard Samurai
Conceived, co-written and inked by Mike Avon Oeming
Written & co-created by Miles Gunther
Pencilled, coloured and co-created by Kelsey Shannon

The book has a cracking title and a good idea, as quoted by our protagonist: 'I fight in black market death matches run by the Yakuza.' Issue 1 sees some discussion about Kuji No Ito meditation, for the cerebral aspect, but we also our protagonist in well-choreographed, big fights that end up with him realising that he has killed his own brother. The next issue has him take out the enemy school of swords before going to his own school. The final issue sees him fighting his old master for most of the length of the book and killing him. Although the art is visually stylistic, dynamic and cinematic, with some artistic flourishes in places, the story seems quite slender for the three issues. I have a weakness for modern samurai stories, and Oeming has brownie points from the excellent Powers, so this book was an almost obligatory purchase. However, the narrative didn't hold up and warrant repeat viewings; enjoyable while it lasted but the combination of the whole didn't add up to a satisfactory experience. At least it still has a great name.

Trimming the collection: Suicide Squad v2 #1–12

Suicide Squad (Volume 2) #1–12
by Keith Giffen & Paco Medina

The original Ostrander/Yale Suicide Squad had a lot of charm and took a great idea and played with it. This revival plays on that charm and history, but bypasses a lot of grounding and characterisation to try something that never completely clicks.

Giffen is excellent at providing the minimum information required for the reader to understand what is going on in the story. He does this mostly with dialogue and hints of backstory, but it can leave you needing a PhD in DC Universe history to comprehend who everyone is and about their interactions. This worked to much better effect on his reboot of the Legion of Superheroes, which I thoroughly enjoyed, with the strongly defined characters, it doesn't quite work with some new players and a bunch of minor supervillains.

There is a lot to enjoy in these twelve issues. The banter and pacing is fun, and some of the new characters are intriguing. However, the mix of humour and death that Ostrander and Yale achieved isn't matched here, not hitting quite the right note. We almost get to know the people involved enough to care about the outcome, which is given away by the title of the series (absolutely great logo, by the way), but don't reach the same level as the previous incarnation.

One aspect that I enjoyed without fail was the art. Medina has a funky, muscular, cartoony, chunky style with expressive faces, which helps with the dialogue scenes, and dynamic camera movement in the action scenes.

It's a strange mix of storytelling. The first issue has in media res and flashbacks and dialogue, then we move into action. Then issue 3 has people being eaten by ants. Issue 5 brings back Floyd Lawton, aka Deadshot, which brings a smile to the face of a fan of the old Squad, but it is brought down by the presence of an annoying old woman who knows it all but doesn't tell everything – I wanted to wring her scrawny neck by the end, which could be what Giffen was going for, but left me hating the story. Issues 6–8 sees the appearance of a mysterious island near Kooey Kooey Kooey, only for the Squad fail to do anything effective at all.

Issue 9 is all talking heads, and nothing to do with the cover, which Medina livens up by having Havana wear a blouse that is practically cut to her navel to expose her cleavage in some scenes; this seems an odd choice given that she is meeting with her mother, Amanda Waller, former head of the Squad, who gave her up for adoption.

(Issue 9 has 'Begin Phase Two' on the cover, which is a little unfortunate considering the series ended three issues later.)

Issue 10, like issue 4, is a Rock and Bulldozer flashback, with some old school art, whereas issues 11 and 12 kill off the current team, using a connection to the old Squad, by bumping off the two characters, Havanna and Modem, who were genuinely interesting, and keeping mysteries around in case the book gets a reprieve. Apart from the art and Giffen banter, there was no 'magic' to this book that drew you back to it each month. It seemed to trade off a name and an idea, but not succeeding in doing anything special with it. Mark it as good effort but could do better.

Trimming the collection: I Die At Midnight

I Die At Midnight
by Kyle Baker

The Cowboy Wally Show and Why I Hate Saturn are sublime in their beauty, wit and charm. Baker need never work again, if the quality of work was rewarded. In the real world, artists need to create to live. I want to support comedic geniuses, which is why I bought this book.

I Die At Midnight does not compare to the two former works. This is a more traditional, narrative-driven story, which, although maintaining the appearances of a Baker book (the expressive and exuberant art, the captions underneath the panels, the strong characters delineated with minimum fuss), feels more like an overheard anecdote, or the start of an odd joke, that has been riffed upon via a Hollywood script machine to produce a chase film.

A man takes an overdose on New Year's Eve because his girlfriend has dumped him. However, she turns up to rekindle their love. He doesn't want to tell her he has taken an OD, in case it scuppers the relationship, so attempts to cure himself without her knowing. He goes to extreme and silly lengths to accomplish this, involving running and jumping and tall buildings and thuggish ex-boyfriends and flying in helicopters.

I feel that I didn't enjoy this by comparing it to his earlier work, wanting more of the same funniness and satire of modern life. It just didn't feel like Baker to me or, rather, not the Baker I wanted. I wanted the comedy; Baker brought a light, unengaging work that, even when I reread it for this post, I zipped through, not caring about it all.

Absence & Alan Moore on the telly

(I don't know – you get a pain on the coccyx and the next thing you know, you're in hospital. Life is strange, isn't it? Anyway, this might seem a little late, but this would have been my post had I not been unable to do anything for the last week or so.)

Alan Moore, a self-proclaimed recluse, appearing on national television is a thrill for a fan of the undisputed best writer in comic books. It was such a buzz to be able to turn on your television and see him on BBC2, at just after 7.00pm on a weekday, in The Culture Show. His bizarre demeanour, his low, gravelly voice, the excessively large and bushy beard, the surplus of large rings; it brought a smile to my face.

However, this interview was not the best use of Moore; a basic grounding into his world, his anger at the Hollywood treatment of his work, and faintly embarrassing filmed snippets of him wandering around Northampton posing for the camera in lieu of him talking straight to camera (which surely is the point of an interview?). The production designer went heavy on the comic book graphics, using panel transitions and images turned into comic book panels, to emphasise to the viewer, 'This man writes comic books but it's serious, honest.'

It didn't seem like Moore at all, sometimes, having him read a copy of his own graphic novels as if nobody was watching him, and describe them to the camera. The posing for the filmed segments seemed particularly silly. They mentioned some of his works, but the emphasis was on the ones turned into films, as if this legitimised the piece, as it was the week before V for Vendetta came out.

Personally, I would have preferred to have just him talking to the camera – the bit where he read out his panel description from his script for League of Extraordinary Gentlemen was hilarious. He is obviously an interesting chap and they could have had him for the whole hour of the show and not scratched the surface. What we got was about 10 minutes, including Jonathan Ross saying how good he is.

Even when we did get some chat that was interesting, as he talked about his feelings about the films, some of his anger escaping, it didn't mention details of the lawsuit against the film LXG or the incident with Joel Silver and the press conference. I wanted so much more but perhaps this is what we get for 'the most obscenely underrated artist working today' (as Ross described him); a snippet, a tiny glimpse of a genius, before he returns to his routine existence of producing works of staggering genius.

Tenuous link between three films I watched

Or, Ruminations on Elektra, Nick Fury: Agent of SHIELD, and Lemony Snicket's An Unfortunate Series of Events

Apart from the fact that I saw these films recently, and they are of varying levels of poorness, they are linked by an underlying question: what were the makers hoping to achieve by adapting these properties?

Elektra is a spin-off from a film that didn't do that well and wasn't received very well critically, of a character few people know about outside the comic book community. So why was the film made?

For starters, the lead is to be played by Jennifer 'Iron Jaw' Garner, the inexplicably adored actress with some industry 'heat'. I've never seen it, but Alias did well for her, so someone thought it would be a good idea to make the film with her in it, despite her character dying at the end of Daredevil (a fact they seem to completely ignore in this film).

Also, having a sexy female in a butt-kicking action role is the big thing for movie execs at the moment, from Buffy to Lara Croft, and all the attempts in-between: Underworld and its sequel, Resident Evil and its sequel, Aeon Flux, Ultraviolet – apparently, to have a strong female action character, the film has to be awful, which is a shame.

The only other reason to make this film is because they can; the comics exist, suggesting a proven franchise, and buying a license is easier than creating something new. However, the Elektra story has been told – the whole point of Frank Miller's Elektra tale is that there was a start, middle and finish, and that is what made it memorable. A bevy of talented writers (Milligan, Rucka, Bendis) have tried to keep the Elektra franchise going, but they didn't add anything worthwhile to the mythos, suggesting that it's not easy to do.

The film itself? Well, it's so … bleugh. It's not awful, but it's not any good either. It's well filmed, there are decent actors in very minor roles, and you get a simple tale told in a workman-like manner. However, you are left with the feeling, 'What was the point of that?' This is not a good feeling to have after you have seen a film. It should be something more interesting, more worthwhile than a shrug of the shoulders and forgetting it.

Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events suffers from a similar malaise. You can hear the exec thinking behind it: 'Well, the Potter franchise is huge, so why don't we adapt any British series of books that is popular; it'll be a sure-fire hit! It's quirky, so it will appeal to adults. And it has Jim Carrey, doing his character thing. How can it fail! That's my work done for the day. Get me some cocaine and some hookers.'

The film fails by not being a satisfying story. Combining the first three books into one film, the Narrative Unit (a term I just invented) we get at the end is not rewarding; the children don't change (they just use their 'powers' at the appropriate moments), the adults are caricatures, and the story is more about Carrey in the villain role. There is no reason to invest any emotion in the account of these people.

The film looks great – the visual vibe created is very evocative and moody – and Carrey is a lot of fun, and the kids are perfect for their parts, but you get the same empty feeling as from Elektra: What was the point of that? You know that the story must continue, due to the narrator from the future relating the past events, and it will be just more unpleasant things happening to them, and there will be no justice for them or their relatives. With Harry Potter, or Lord of the Rings, the films may be parts of a series, but they provided very satisfactory tales in their own right. The Potter films are particularly good at advancing aspects of the overall tale but telling a mini-thriller in each film that feels worthy of telling. Lemony Snicket was made because an executive thought it should be made.

Finally, we come to Nick Fury: Agent of SHIELD, with David Hasselhoff.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

What a depressingly awful mess. Horrible. And it was written by David Goyer! The man who brought us the first two Blade films and Batman Begins. How is that possible? I mean, there was Blade: Trinity, which shows he is capable of unforgiveable shiteness, but this is diabolical. The dialogue is atrocious – when Clay Quartermain is killed by many HYDRA agents, he shouts, nay bellows, 'LET US ROCK AND LET US ROLL!' before being deservingly slaughtered. He got off lightly.

When we see the Hoff as Fury, well, I just shook my head and wept. I'm not a big Fury fan, but this was just sad. Every time he tries the Tough Guy dialogue, I cringed. I don't know if he was trying to stretch the acting muscles he doesn't have, but 'Grinning Twat' is the extent of his acting ability, and he should stick to what he knows. The only acting worse than his is the main villainess, the daughter of Baron Strucker. She hams it up like she's been injected with pig hormones in every scene, even doing the Evil Diabolical Laughter in a completely non-ironic manner.

I thought that the production designers missed the point with SHIELD headquarters; they are supposed to be the elite espionage outfit, and they look like they working out of the factory that the Full Monty guys were sacked from. But it seems appropriate for the cheap values of something that is a television pilot; I don't know if that was the case, and I can't be arsed to spend anytime looking it up, but it just screams of a pilot episode for a series. The shoddy FX, the low-rent actors, the villainess escaping at the end to be the recurring nemesis, it looks like an attempt by the Hoff to have a show where he can be the cool badass on a weekly basis and go to foreign locations, if he's lucky. The trouble is, that's not what Fury is about. He is a driven man doing the hard job of getting the dirty work done to protect a society from the things it doesn't want to know.

How could a SHIELD television series work if Marvel could never keep Fury in an ongoing comic? What makes them think they could get it right when the originators couldn't? Personally, Fury works best as a background character; his cameos in the Marvel U give a grounding and consistency, but this doesn't make for a great lead. Is the Steranko era the only time when SHIELD worked? Perhaps it is a product of its time.

What can be said is that this film is an excruciating piece of shit that shouldn't have been made. It is yet another appalling adaptation of a comic book that only existed because, basically, Hoff wanted it. There is no other reason. Sure, there is the franchise potential and the excuse for fights and explosions and car chases, but I can only see it getting greenlighted because He's Big In Germany said he wanted to do it.

In summary, films should only be made because they deserve it, there is a burning need for a story to be on film, there is a worthwhile reason for it to exist, even if just to be a piece of entertaining popcorn, not because someone with no creativity, but power in Hollywood, thinks it might be a good idea.

Trimming the Collection: Just a Pilgrim (Series 1)

JUST A PILGRIM (Series 1)
Garth Ennis & Carlos Ezquerra

Even if Ennis wasn't a great writer, he demands attention for having written Preacher and Hitman, among others. So, the chance of seeing him let loose on his own creation seemed like an obvious choice, and it had the pleasing art of Ezquerra, with his Spanish brand of futurism and grime I'd come to love from reading 2000AD in my formative comic book years. However, the five issues of this story never quite hit the same high marks of previous Ennis work.

'Eight years after the burn.' That's a good line, and gives you all you need to know; a post-apocalyptic world in five words. But then, a boy runs out into the middle of a firefight to look for his diary – how implausible is that?

The Pilgrim is a nice design, mixing a simple approach with a hint of superhero motif, with the cross over the eye, the large coat and hat of the cowboy (to which Ennis admits), and the Bible angle allows for an unusual approach (after shooting an annoying, yappy dog for no reason, he explains: 'Devil got into him.')

However, the story of a group of people heading out to a promised land with the Pilgrim as a guide seems like a mix of western and a leftover Judge Dredd story where he wanders out to Cursed Earth. Castenado might have sounded funny in Ennis's head, but is just the wrong side of silly for the story, especially when mixed with the unpleasantness of some of the deaths.

Ezquerra is his reliable self, bringing his Dredd licks to the US market, and he draws a good weirdo. Ennis can tell a story, but this one doesn't hold much to it. The cannibalism/soldier/finding Jesus seems to be stretching in order to justify this thin piece of silliness. A down-ending leaves you with a feeling of, 'So what?', which is not the emotion I want to have after reading my comics. I mean, not all stories should have a point, but there should be some reason for reading it in the first place, other than for Ennis to use an idea he had of mixing Pale Rider, Mad Max and Judge Dredd (as he talks about in the letter column). Perhaps I was expecting too much, because I know he can do better.

Film review: MirrorMask

MirrorMask is what I imagine it is like inside the head of Dave McKean. It feels like the three-dimensional realisation of what goes on inside the mind of a gifted artist, who sees the world ever so slightly different to the rest of the world.

Helena (Stephanie Leonidas) is a 15-year-old who reluctantly appears in her parents' struggling circus as a juggler. After an explosive row with her mother (Gina McKee), her mum falls very ill, requiring hospitalisation and exploratory surgery, leaving Helena feeling extremely guilty.

Helena is a very good artist, her work (fortunately done in exactly the same style as Dave McKean) adorning every inch of her bedroom walls. In her troubled sleep about her mother, she enters a dreamworld based on the drawings, where she meets a friend, Harlequin, who wears a mask, like everyone in this place, as well as her father (Rob Brydon) in the form of the prime minister, and her mother in the form of the White Queen, who is in a deep sleep after the princess of the Black Queen, also her mother, visited the city of light. Helena vows to find the MirrorMask which will help everybody in this strange city, as she also comes to realise that the princess has taken her place in the real world, and is threatening to lock her away in her place forever.

Most importantly, this film is visually stunning, as would be expected from such a great design stylist as McKean. The eerie oddness of the MirrorMask world feels like a dream made real, with sphinxes and cats with human heads and soldiers who seem to be on stilts. To think they only had a few million to create the visuals makes it even more impressive. The story, perhaps surprisingly, isn't as strong; the young girl making the choices in her growth to womanhood through a quest seems somehow familiar, not filled with narrative intricacies that might be expected from Gaiman, whose written work (both comic book and prose) I admire. I don't know if this is deliberate, evoking all those stories and ideas into a tale that feels old and well-told, but where it might work in a book, it seems not enough to justify a film, which is a different medium.

The actors feel right for their parts, and the Britishness of it all is emphasised by the familiar voices of Stephen Fry, Robert Llewellyn and Lenny Henry. But it is Leonidas who shines, a naturalness to her acting that roots the surreal in something believable, that allows MirrorMask to be as bizarre as possible without seeming silly. Not a perfect film by any means, it is enjoyable and beautiful to look at, and leaves you to wonder at what they could produce with a decent budget.

Rating: VID

Oscar thoughts

Well, I may have wished to see the show live, but it doesn’t appear I missed anything, based on the always-funny minute-by-minute blogging by Tom, the lovely folks at Empire magazine and dear old BBC. It also meant I didn’t stay up late fruitlessly, which would’ve fucked me up for the rest of the week, so it’s good news all round.

I was brushing my teeth when Radio 4 announced that Crash had won best picture; I nearly did that overreacting-spitting-out-contents-of-mouth double-take that is so popular in comedy films. How did that happen? My thoughts then were the same as other people: the Academy doesn’t have the balls to vote a gay film best picture; there are a lot of actors in the academy who like seeing a lot of actors in their best picture; and a lot of actors (who make up the majority of the academy) live in LA, so I guess they thought that Crash ‘spoke’ to them, in some deep and meaningful way we non-actor types wouldn’t understand. Ah, well, who cares? Apart from the producers of Brokeback Mountain, that is …

I’m no Oscar expert, but my predictions were pretty good, which makes me feel like a smug bastard for no sound reason.

The only other upset in my tally was George Clooney getting the supporting statue; I really wasn’t expecting that, although I really wanted him to win it, based on what a decent and smart chap he is and the films he makes (and it’s not just me; Warren Ellis feels the same too …)

I may be a Brit, but it wasn’t patriotism that stirred when Wallace & Gromit won best animated picture; the short films are a British institution and works of staggering genius, so it’s nice to see excellence rewarded. Cracking decision, Academy!

Jon Stewart seems to have acquitted himself well but hasn’t guaranteed himself the slot next year. I think he’s the right man for the job, as he knows how to handle this sort of thing, he’s a comedian as well as an anchor, and he’s even done the acting thing. It appears that people were expecting him to be more political, but that’s not the point of the Oscars, and Stewart knows that; sly digs and sharp one-liners are the order of the night, not cheap jokes about Bush. I’d like to see him back for next year.

And so, the silly season is over for another year, and we can get back to watching brain-free action flicks and adaptations of television programmes and bland comedies to appeal to as many money-paying demographics as possible for the rest of the year …

From a Library: Superman Secret Identity

Superman: Secret Identity
Kurt Busiek & Stuart Immonen

Although this story is based on an obscure tale from DC Comics Presents #87 by Elliot S Maggin and Curt Swan about the Superboy of Earth-Prime, this is a wonderfully moving and beautiful tale about what it’s like to be human, told through the eyes of the most powerful man on the planet.

In ‘our’ world, a boy called Clark Kent has to suffer constant teasing at school and mocking birthday presents because he shares his name with a cultural icon, without the benefits of the powers or the friends. He lives in a small town in Kansas and likes to write but feels solitary and alienated; even the comic book geeks mock him. This could apply to most teenagers, as they begin the process of growing into themselves, but it is complicated when Clark gains Superman’s powers for real and he wonders what he should do with them.

After a set of meetings with a reporter (in order to find out more about himself) leads to disaster, he decides to remain a secret but help people anyway. He becomes a reporter for the New Yorker, and meets a Lois of his own, finding true love. But the question remains: should he tell her his secret? Will she accept him for who he is? The heart of the struggle for true love, being loved unequivocally in return by someone you love, is beautifully highlighted by the simple fact of the ability to fly. Of course, this is complicated by Clark’s capture by a government eager to experiment on him; he manages to escape, but not before seeing some sights that make him angry.

Clark and Lois marry and have kids, leading Clark to re-evaluate his Superman role in the light of becoming a father, leading to him developing an uneasy truce with a government agency. Again, Busiek reflects on the real world dilemmas faced by people becoming parents by placing Clark in more dynamic version of the same situation. The final chapter deals with the feelings of becoming old, the losing of youth and accepting your children after years of worrying how they will turn out. The poignancy that is evoked by the interactions and emotions involved are a delight, as Busiek is able to take this story through from beginning to end. Of course, the story wouldn’t be as powerful if it didn’t have sublime art to tell the tale in a visual fashion, so it’s a pleasure to see Immonen deliver spectacular art. Able to capture the real life and the dynamism of superheroics, each page is a joy to admire, with a soft-tinted feel to the work that makes it feel so close and yet just out of reach. Secret Identity is a wonderful story, rightfully deserving all the critical acclaim it acquired. Highly recommended.

From a Library: Teen Titans A Kid's Game

Teen Titans: A Kid’s Game (collecting #1–7)
Geoff Johns & Mike McKone

Before I start, I just wanted to mention the Turner cover and the butt shot of Starfire, along with her unfathomable breasts, yet still being able to see her ribs poking out. That Turner needs help. He has a problem. (Although he draws a good tiger.)

I didn’t read the Titans growing up. I have the crossover with the X-Men because I was a geek with a hard on for the muties, and that’s it. I might have seen some of the stuff, but it didn’t enter my radar. I thought I’d give this a try. It looks like I don’t need to read the old books, because Johns obviously just wants to tell the same stories again, but with some new characters.

I’ve not read much Johns because he seems to be a DC fanboy and I am not. His writing is competent and he gives the people what they want: the same superhero comics, but slightly different, but not too different so they might complain that it isn’t the same as it used to be. This version is basically the same Teen Titans as Wolfman and Perez, but with updating to the new permutations of the heroes (Robin for Nightwing, Impulse for Kid Flash). So, it appears modern and fresh, but it feels like the old stuff, giving the fanboy more of the same.

McKone’s art is just the job for this sort of book; he’s a good, solid superhero artist, drawing good muscles and actions and poses, dynamic camera angles and moving the story along, even if his faces have a certain oddness to them that I can’t put my finger on but feels a little disconcerting at time. Most importantly, he draws the Teen Titans as teens, i.e. they look younger than the adult superheroes. You’d be surprised how many artists don’t get that.

The story is nothing wildly original. This is a gathering of the team for no other reason than DC wants a Teen Titans book on the market. Under the auspices of Cyborg, teenage superheroes are given a weekend training camp, something the adults don’t want, because adults are mean and horrible to da kidz, yo. There is a lot of talking, but then they are given a reason to fight by the timely arrival of Deathstroke, who kneecaps Impulse. This is a tad jarring; the tone strived for is enjoyable, light superheroics, so seeing a close-up of someone’s patella being blown off by a shotgun is incongruous. This leads to a visit to the Titan memorial, which is really rather creepy, with lifelike statues of the poor bastards who’ve died while in the Titans. That’s pretty morbid, dude.

The adults still don’t understand, so we get a throwdown with the JLA, which seems a little over the top, but what do I know? Impulse has now decided to become Kid Flash because Johns wants a Kid Flash on the team, and gives him the power to remember everything he reads, which arrives with no prior warning. Wonder what Waid has to say about that? It’s all part of Johns getting things his way, back to the old group, by having Jericho still alive within his father, Deathstroke, and having Raven resurrected so that she can be the deus ex machina for the Jericho fight. Ho-hum.

The final issue was the straw that broke the camel’s back regarding accessibility. If you don’t have a PhD in Titan-lore, you would have no idea what is going on. But it is made worse by the introduction of Krypto, the canine from Krypton. Dear God, what the hell is going on? Why? No offence to Krypto lovers but it is a stupid idea that only works in Silver Age and Alan Moore’s Supreme. Otherwise, it’s just plain embarrassing, as I’m sure the da hip kidz could tell him.

Q&A: Uatu the Watcher

Q&A: Uatu, the Watcher

Uatu is a Watcher, a member of a powerful species of immortals who have sworn to passive observation of the universe. Uatu watches our solar system, from his home on the Moon, only occasionally breaking his code of strict non-interference. He would like to reinforce the fact that he is NOT a pervert.

What is your perfect idea of happiness?
Guilt-free voyeurism.

Which living person do you most admire?
Reed Richards. He’s just ... fantastic.

What is your greatest regret?
I have a few, as detailed in the court case with my people, but the settlement means I’m not allowed to discuss it, I’m afraid.

What is your most treasured possession?
A replica of the Ultimate Nullifier, signed by Reed Richards and Galactus.

Where would you like to live?
The Baxter Building, but the Blue Area suits me just fine.

What makes you depressed?
The fact that togas are no longer fashionable.

Who would play you in a movie of your life?
Michael Chiklis.

What is your favourite book?
The CIA World Factbook

What is your guiltiest pleasure?
Bald Head Shine

What do you owe your parents?
My troublesome altruism and an overwhelming urge to meddle in things.

Which living person do you most despise?
I know people might expect me to say Galactus, but I have to go with Rupert Murdoch, for putting far too many channels of dross on television – how am I supposed to watch it all?

When and where were you happiest?
Narrating the What If..? series.

What single thing would improve the quality of your life?
TiVo for the universe.

What is the most important lesson life has taught you?
It is easier to get forgiveness than permission.