I love this “behind the scenes” TV stuff. I just wish they asked them about The Golden Palace (the spin-off/sequel to the original show).
It’s hard working, having a baby, seeing family and friends, and trying to write. I have to work it in more, I know, but blurbs of 140 characters or less is often the best I can do.
This blog will get more attention soon, but in the meantime, follow me on Twitter @NeoMyers for just a taste.
Cameron from “Obnoxious & Anonymous” and I go “Geek Deep” on the “Star Wars” prequels.
This review is late, but no less valid now than when Creed came out two weeks ago. If I’ve seen you in person since I saw the movie, I know I’ve told you how good it is. If I don’t see you in person all that often, well: Listen Up.
Creed is a spin-off/sequel/restart (?) in the Rocky series. It’s hard to pin down exactly what it is because it follows everything we’ve seen in the previous six Rocky movies, yet follows a new character, Adonis Johnson/Creed (the fantastic Michael B. Jordan aka Vince from Friday Night Lights and Wallace from The Wire), Apollo Creed’s bastard son from an affair. Yet, Rocky Balboa (Sylvester Stallone, for the one person out there who doesn’t know that) is the film’s co-star and his character arc is the next chapter in his life as if this were a strict Rocky sequel.
I spend a lot of time defending and justifying sequels, re-imaginings, reboots, shared universes, and all other kinds of franchise building efforts. Creed is, quite possibly, the best example of what a sequel (or whatever it is) should be.
The plot is no secret and is pretty plain from all of the advertising leading up to Creed’s release. Adonis Johnson is Apollo Creed’s son by another mother and like his famous boxing father, he wants to fight, but no one will train him. As his last hope, Adonis seeks out his father’s equally famous friend, Rocky Balboa, to train him. Based on the plot concept, this movie had the potential to be cheesy and not very good.
Writer and Director Ryan Coogler punched that idea right in the face, Ivan Drago-style. This isn’t just a good Rocky movie, it’s a good film in its own right. I can’t remember the last time a movie so satisfied everything I wanted it to be. Coogler made exactly the movie that this needed to be given its hybrid story and origins.
You can never overstate how important music is to a film. Creed’s composer, Ludwig Goransson, has made magic by weaving the Rocky films’ score in and out of a beautiful new arrangement, defined by a badass theme for Adonis that I think will become just as memorable as Rocky’s. Even the degree to which Rocky’s theme music is soft and emotional (for the most part…) compared to the dominant bass and trumpets of Adonis’s theme is right on the money—this is Adonis’s movie, but Rocky is his heart and his spirit. It’s just an incredible arrangement.
Now I won’t go into extreme detail, but I’m a big fan of the Rocky series. Even at its goofiest moments in Rocky III (Thunderlips) and Rocky IV (James Brown and Paulie’s robot), the films all have genuine emotional heart. And they’re inspiring, all about spirit triumphing over seemingly impossible odds. As a short man, with limited physical gifts, I identify with that message.
Director Ryan Coogler shares writing credit with Aaron Covington and these two have captured Rocky’s universe as perfectly as if they extracted it right out of Stallone’s brain. But what’s so good about what they have done here is nothing feels ripped off or copied. Every reference to what has come before, both in Rocky’s life and in Adonis’s relation to Apollo Creed, doesn’t feel like pandering; it feels like necessary, organic parts of this story, which only make them more satisfying. Too often it seems like sequels and reboots run away from what made the original film(s) they are based upon so great. Creed doesn’t do that at all. And it’s so much stronger for embracing its roots in the Rocky story and forging a new path ahead of Adonis, who is no Rocky clone, but does share Rocky’s determination and heart.
It would be a disservice to review this film without commenting on the boxing. It’s fast, brutal, and easily the most realistic of the Rocky films. Plus, Ryan Coogler sets up some imaginative shots that really put the viewer in the ring with Adonis. Most of the fighting is shot over Adonis’s shoulder except in a few cases the camera works to jolt you along with him.
I’m a fan of Michael B. Jordan’s work on The Wire and Friday Night Lights, so I’m probably not the most objective person to evaluate him. Jordan’s portrayal of Adonis Johnson (Creed) is simply great. He imbues the character with history, with pain, with sadness, with strength. It’s not inaccurate to compare Adonis here to Rocky in the original movie, but Adonis is wholly a different character. Even as Adonis courts Bianca (Tessa Thompson), it’s clear he’s got a lot more game than good ol’ Rocky had. But that’s OK.
Meanwhile, while Rocky’s boxing fights are behind him, his character still has a fight ahead of him. And I dare you to keep those eyes dry while Rocky confronts the toughest opponent he’s ever faced. I’ve heard talk that Sylvester Stallone might get an Oscar nod for this performance. I hope he does because it’s really meaty stuff and it’s proof that, while Stallone made his career out of bulletproof action heroes, Rocky Balboa is in his heart. This is why the film doesn’t solely belong to Michael B. Jordan.
I thought I had seen the last of Rocky Balboa’s world with 2006’s Rocky Balboa, a fitting conclusion (I thought) to this series of films. But I didn’t realize how much I missed that character and his world. Or maybe it’s just that Ryan Coogler has told such a compelling, emotional story that it breathes new life into the whole franchise. Creed is over two hours, but it flew by and I want more.
Go see this movie and try not to jump to your feet at the start of the last round. I dare you.
There’s a great YouTube channel, and Facebook page (!), called “Obnoxious and Anonymous” that populates great entertainment news and opinion. I’ve recently joined as a contributor and I’m fortunate enough to appear on some of the weekly podcasts. It’s exactly my taste (in that we talk about nonsense), so if you enjoy my blog, you’ll probably enjoy the podcasts too.
This week’s podcast includes two members of the YouTube group “The Sausage Factory,” Cole and Orc. They have some great film discussions and “live watches” on their channel. They’re also big 80’s slasher film fans and I’m also a mega fan. TSF has a new episode premiering tonight, so check it out.
But this latest “O&A” video is one of the best and Cole and Orc are a couple of smart, funny guys so we have a pretty good discussion. I hope you enjoy and, if it floats your boat, subscribe to the channel! And this one!
If you know anything about me, it’s that I’m not hyper-critical about sequels and spin-offs. I usually like them.
If I like the source material, I’m generally excited to see more adventures with the characters or see new angles of the universe through new characters and situations. If the creators of the “main” show, or original movie, are doing their jobs they’ve constructed a living, breathing world where all kinds of things can happen.
The Walking Dead does its job. Other than some logical and pacing missteps in its second season (rife with behind the scenes turnover and drama), TWD is a rich, fully realized world with a number of potential story paths to follow with our original cast and to explore away from them if they so choose. Unfortunately, Fear the Walking Dead mines the missteps from TWD season two as its concept—domestic drama.
The spinoff takes place in L.A., 3,000 miles away from where Sheriff Rick Grimes rests in a coma in Georgia. By all appearances, the new show takes place in the time when Rick was out of the loop. Society still exists. Kids go to school. Drug addicts get high. You get it.
The pilot introduces our main characters, a mixed-race family featuring Cliff Curtis (Travis), Kim Dickens (Madison), Alycia-Debnam-Carey (Alicia*), and Frank Dillane (Nick), in the midst of turmoil of the domestic variety – Nick is a drug addict and is in the hospital following a car accident precipitated by a proto-zombie attack. Of course, no one believes him because that’s crazy. This is another mistake FTWD makes – much of the show’s drama is based around the fact that the audience knows what’s happening and the characters don’t. In interviews, creators and cast cite this as a strength, but I think it’s a weakness. The show should stand on its own and create stakes based upon this story, not source cheap scares and suspense from the fact that we already watch The (superior) Walking Dead. What’s interesting about this story? Why should we invest in these people?
It’s unfair, but I have to compare the FTWD pilot to TWD pilot. When you do that, you see there’s no comparison at all. TWD pilot is cinematic, evocative, and tells a whole story in of itself – like a good pilot should. Rick Grimes is shot and goes into a coma; when he wakes up, he is alone and the hospital is abandoned. We enter this world with Rick as he discovers barricaded doors covered with a scribbled warning “Dead Inside.” The viewer is Rick’s companion as he stumbles deeper into a barren, empty, frightening world where the dead “live” and the only safety he finds is with a lone man and his son surviving in the abandoned suburbs near his empty house.
That pilot is highly visual, too. Rick riding down the highway in his sheriff’s uniform on a horse towards an apocalyptic Atlanta horizon, Rick weeping over an almost dissolved zombie body that still lives in unending torment, Rick shooting a zombified little girl in the head, and more! There’s hardly any dialogue, but the pilot communicates everything you need to know with powerful cinematography and crisp scripting.
Fear the Walking Dead’s pilot is nowhere near as strong. There’s nothing powerful happening here. Creator Robert Kirkman emphasized how this was going to be a story about a family and, man, he wasn’t kidding. Variety’s review suggested that FTWD is like Parenthood with zombies. The only problem with this is Kirkman and his co-writer, Dave Erickson, are not nearly as sharp as Jason Katims at crafting engaging family drama. But the question remains: why do we care about this family’s drama at all when we know there’s a zombie holocaust underway? One of the most fascinating episodes of the original show is “TS-19,” the first season finale where Rick and company arrive at the CDC and encounter the last surviving scientist who doled out tantalizing nuggets of mythology. I wasn’t asking for a show about chemistry, but some exploration of an outbreak that reanimates the dead might have been interesting.
FTWD’s focus on the family feels like a tease. I know Kirkman is dedicated to telling “ground-level” stories in his zombie universe, but he’s at a disadvantage here. After spending years with Rick Grimes and his motley crew, I have many questions about the zombie outbreak, the government response, what people knew and when, and so on. Since that show just threw us into the world after zombies, when we occasionally took a break to explore what family and friendships mean in this environment it was interesting (sometimes… I’m looking at you, Season Two). But FTWD has inverted that formula. We start with a family and, presumably, we will follow them into the apocalypse and see what that means for them. But there’s no hook. I have no reason to keep watching other than my foreknowledge about what’s coming. Kirkman’s insistence that he will give no answers or insight on the zombie virus (?) or sickness (?) is maddening. That’s the hook. That’s what would invest us in this story. Simply dropping us in a story of another group of people at a different point in time is just not a compelling reason for this show to exist.
Finally, if you forget the fact that The Walking Dead exists and evaluate this show on its merits, it’s OK. It’s not great. But if this had been the first show, I don’t think it would have done nearly as well. Again, what’s the hook? The measure of any great spin-off needs to be whether or not that show can be its own thing. FTWD would not have shattered ratings records if not for the fandom of the original show. I can’t begrudge the show for having a successful predecessor, but I can try to look at it objectively. If I do that, what was remarkable? Name a memorable scene. Name a character other than Nick and don’t cheat by going back in this post.
I’ll watch next week and, odds are, I’ll watch all the way up to The Walking Dead’s season six premiere. But, honestly, I’ll do so to pass the time until the exciting show I want to watch comes back. Maybe Fear the Walking Dead will grab me in the meantime.
*It’s distracting that Alycia Debnam-Carey is “Alicia.” Feels lazy even though I’m sure the name was set in the script before Debnam-Carey was cast.
I know I said I would stop apologizing about not writing enough, but I feel bad that I’m not more up to date. It’s this annoying fatherhood… I mean, like “Change your own diaper!”
I’ve been aching to take on the persistent, knee-jerk cynicism about sequels, reboots, and the relatively new phenomenon of shared movie universes.
On the surface, I get it.
As the writer of my own original independent work (works), I would like room to break in and show people something new as opposed to a 3rd Spider-Man reboot within 15 years of the original film – to say nothing of the fact that the character has been in production for about fifty years of comics and cartoons (let’s not speak of the live action 70s show…). New characters and new stories are necessary. We can’t keep rehashing the same things over and over.
And, more to the point, I think what I, as a fan, sometimes hate about sequels or reboots is how bad they can be, which can spoil the memories and connections I’ve made to the original work. Two examples that illustrate this perfectly for me are the original Sam Raimi Spider-Man films and The X-Men films. Both series started out with decent first films and then debuted stronger, more complex—more awesome—sequels. Then each series turned out bad second sequels that were not only pretty bad films, but they soured the stories and my memories of the first two films. I would point out, too, that it was largely studio interference or behind the scenes problems that tanked these movies. Not that it makes it better, but it’s not like the ideas were flawed from the start.
But the geek in me—the passionate fan—wants more content about the things I love. More good content. I want these films—or TV shows—to succeed. Sometimes I think I come off as a contrarian when it comes to these things because there seems to be so much vitriol online against sequels that I feel the need to balance the scales and defend them.
It’s not just that, though. The truth is: we don’t hate sequels. Some of our favorite films are sequels. There are the obvious ones: Godfather 2, Aliens, Terminator 2… these movies are not only good by their own rights, but they grew the worlds of the original films and gave us extra dimensions of the characters and situations that only improve the original movies in context.
I would add Beverly Hills Cop 2 and Lethal Weapon 2 to that list as well, by the way.
I have less patience for so-called reboots, but even there I think there is something interesting in taking an established property and playing with our expectation of it. It may seem like an odd example, but the Friday the 13th reboot is one of the best. The writers clearly had a love for the original material and the film is like a spiritual remix of the first four movies in the “original” series. They even took the opportunity to make sense of the original series disjointed mythology related to Jason’s original drowning and return. More than anything, they got the character of Jason right. He’s not necessarily a complex character, but Jason Goes To Hell is an example of how wrong you can portray Jason Voorhees (including misspelling his last name like JGTH does).
On the other hand, I have a seething hatred for Rob Zombie’s Halloween reboot. That’s an example of how not to reboot something. Zombie fundamentally does not understand the characters of the original Halloween least of all Michael Myers and Dr. Loomis, who are pretty important to get right. Zombie said once that Dr. Loomis must have been the worst psychiatrist in the world, which to me is one of the most brain dead things I have ever heard. The point in Carpenter’s Halloween was that Michael Myers was pure evil. No amount of psychiatric treatment would have helped him because he’s not a person. He’s a force. But I digress… I could devote a whole blog to my hatred of that film.
Meanwhile, Chris Nolan’s Batman Begins is another example of how to properly reboot a property. In that case, it almost seems easy in retrospect. After Batman and Robin, there was no way it could be worse. But Nolan didn’t settle for average—Nolan and screenwriter David Goyer crafted a story that explored the character of Bruce Wayne and Batman, which, oddly enough, wasn’t really done in the previous four Batman films; the previous directors put the focus on Batman’s rogues as opposed to the Dark Knight. Bruce Wayne, in costume as Batman, doesn’t even show up until around the 40 minute mark of Batman Begins. It’s a strong film and, by the way, followed by the amazing sequel The Dark Knight.
Finally, while sequels and reboots aren’t exactly new, the concept of a “shared movie universe” is less than 10 years old. Birthed by our good friends at Marvel, for those of you living under a rock since 2008, this is when more than one movie franchise exists in the same “universe.” Basically, Tony Stark (Iron Man) can go have coffee with Bruce Banner (The Hulk). What happens in one film happens for all the films in that shared universe.
It makes the most sense with comic book properties because that’s how comic books work. As Spider-Man web-slings around the city he might pass Iron Man or Johnny Storm (Human Torch) flying in the other direction. Crossovers are plentiful. But the standard of believability and reality in a feature film (or TV show) is different from a comic book. Marvel’s shared universe gambit was so bold because of the logistics involved with meshing, say, Thor with Iron Man. Iron Man wears a high-tech suit that flies. While it’s fantastical, it’s grounded in a kind of realism that makes it believable. Meanwhile, Thor is a musclebound god who flies and hits people with a magic hammer that only he* can lift. In retrospect, we shouldn’t have been worried, but you can see how there was cause for concern.
But criticisms of the shared universe concept go beyond movie logic. Marketing, particularly by Marvel, has been problematic. Last summer Marvel announced every movie slated for release through 2019. While it was interesting to see the new properties that would debut, like Dr. Strange, Black Panther, and Captain Marvel, new entries in existing character franchises were announced as well—not to mention the next two Avengers entries. It’s been argued that this robbed Avengers: Age of Ultron of some drama because if we know that Captain America is coming out next year, then we know he survives the film and is OK. Same with Thor, who also had a new entry announced.
This criticism is fair. But my response is simple. Who actually thinks Marvel would kill off a marquee character like Thor or Captain America when the actors still have films left on their contracts? Besides, death with comic book characters is about as permanent as the Hulk’s shirt.
I love the idea. But I have two gripes. One, studios are tried to do shared movie universes with everything whether it makes sense or not. Universal is working on a classic monster shared universe with Dracula, the Mummy, the Wolfman, etc. Paramount is working on a Transformers universe with spinoff films centered on different characters like Bumblebee. Meanwhile, one shared universe I’m excited about is a Stephen King universe and this is mostly because there is a shared King book universe connected by The Dark Tower series.
My second gripe is aimed at Marvel and DC. Marvel built up to 2012’s The Avengers where all of our established heroes, Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, Hulk, Black Widow, and Hawkeye teamed up with S.H.I.E.L.D. to fight aliens. Awesome! Then Iron Man 3 threw it all out the window. After establishing all of these characters and the connectivity in the greater world, Iron Man effectively faces off against Al Qaeda by another name and he does so alone. One might wonder why S.H.I.E.L.D., the overarching intelligence apparatus that seems to know everything, didn’t appear. I did! The movie never addresses this issue. After S.H.I.E.L.D. was up Tony Stark’s butt for two independent films and then a team-up film why would it suddenly disappear when terrorists fly up to Iron Man’s house and blow it up? Why weren’t they involved in combatting the terrorists up to that point? The movie could have had one line that fixed this and I would have stayed mum: “Oh man, S.H.I.E.L.D. is so busy cleaning up New York they’re undermanned…” or whatever. Problem solved. But the movie doesn’t bother to address it.
Similarly, in Captain America: The Winter Soldier when Steve Rogers and Black Widow are on the run, they go to Falcon’s house and say everyone they know is trying to kill them. What about Tony Stark? They were even in New Jersey at one point, which brought them close to NYC where Tony and THE HULK were chilling in their Science Bros lab. Again, not really addressed. I would have been happy with a line that explained S.H.I.E.L.D. was monitoring Tony’s phones or Tony wouldn’t respond. Something. Anything! The movie clearly knew that Iron Man exists because “Anthony Stark” is targeted by “Project Insight” at the movie’s climax. I get that each character needs their own films and stories, but if you’re going to go to the trouble of building a shared universe you have to maintain it and acknowledge what you’ve built.
I’ve made my feelings about DC clear in other pieces so I won’t belabor them here. I will only note that the inner-connectivity between Arrow and The Flash is a perfect example of how to do it right. My complaints about DC are more about how they won’t unify all of their TV properties and have separated their films from TV.
Basically, my position is simple. Sequels, reboots, shared universes – make them! But make them well. And if you’re going to develop a shared universe, you need to respect the audience’s intelligence – don’t ignore the fact these characters exist in each other’s’ lives. Otherwise, why are you doing it?
I have tried to remain non-political on the blog. And it will mostly remain a non-political place. I mean, c’mon, talking about Ghostbusters or Lost or The Avengers is way better than wading into that crap. In fact, let’s not even call this one “political.” Let’s call it “philosophy.”
It’s not that I don’t have opinions, I most certainly do. But I find—and studies have borne this out—the proliferation of media has given us the freedom to consume the content we want and ignore what we don’t; and most of us don’t want to discuss politics or philosophy that may challenge us. “Conservatives”* consume content that reflects that ideology and “liberals”* do the same. On the surface, I understand this perspective. We all work. We all commute. We’re living our lives and just making it through the day is hard enough sometimes without needing to get worked up in political conversations that shake us or make us uncomfortable.
But I can’t stay silent. The truth is we are not as different as MSNBC or Fox News tells us we are. I have many friends of various political stripes and 9 times out of 10, in our day-to-day lives, we agree or, at least, we can compromise on important subjects. If nothing else, we can have a discussion. But the reason things seem polarized, when viewed through the media’s filter, is because they only juxtapose issues between two points. Liberal or conservative. Democrat or republican. Wrong or right. But there is almost never a situation in our lives that comes down to just two choices. We’re faced with a spectrum of options at any given moment and so too are we representative of a spectrum of opinions, positions, and philosophies.
Just in case you think this is going to be an argument for “centrism,” let me stop you right there. I’m not a centrist. But my overall point is that I don’t think centrism is real because I don’t think there are only two positions between which there is a middle ground into which some people fall. But if you’re married to existing terminology if I’m arguing anything it’s that most people are “centrists” in the traditional sense. We simply get pulled into choosing one side over another when we would probably choose neither one if that was a legitimate option (and some do this, incidentally).
Since we’re forced to choose between two positions we often twist ourselves into argumentative knots to fit our complex views into the most compatible position. I won’t use an arbitrary example; I’ll use myself. I believe in a small government of specified and limited powers. I believe that’s the surest way to prevent the abuse of power by our elected leadership. What should the government’s specified powers be? Let that be a debate for another day. Let’s stay general here. I’ve said that I believed this for many years, going all the way back to high school. But I didn’t. I was like many people; I was partisan and really just parroting my parents’ values.
You see, when I was in high school, the US was attacked by Islamic fundamentalist terrorists who knocked down the Twin Towers in New York City and crashed a plane into the Pentagon. I, like everyone else it seemed, was shocked, horrified, scared, and angry. As the government grinded into action with a military response, I cheered them on. When Congress passed the Patriot Act, billed as a way to unify our intelligence efforts and make it easier to pursue terrorists, I cheered. Someone was doing something.
The problem, and it took me years to realize this, was that we compromised our principles to address this threat. What’s the saying? “We had to burn down the village to save it?” It’s melodramatic, but my point, and again I’m only talking about myself, is that I said I supported a small government of specified, limited powers except in certain circumstances. There it is. A lack of consistency.
If I had been consistent with my beliefs, I would not have supported many provisions in the Patriot Act. I believe in the philosophical basis that formed our country and supported documents like the Declaration of Independence. That declaration notes that all men are created equal and have certain fundamental, inalienable rights that come from our creator. Whether or not you believe in God is immaterial, if you’re alive, you have the right to live and all the others. Those rights belong to you simply by existing. I believe that with sincerity. Therefore, how could I support treating some people, in this case “enemy combatants,” as less than people? How could I support holding people indefinitely without trial and without representation? If I am being consistent, I cannot.
Now, please make no mistake: one of government’s express powers is national defense. And fighting a war takes commitment and certainty. If you’re going to do it, name your enemy and define victory. I supported, and still do, our response to attack Afghanistan which housed the Al Qaeda terrorist leadership. But I cannot support the invasion of Iraq if I am being consistent with my principles. Iraq was a dictatorship run by a madman. Is the world a better place without Saddam Hussein? Unequivocally so. But it’s also a more complicated place. And simply because Hussein was a bad person, does not mean that invading his country was the right policy decision for the United States. Despite what some may think, the question is still open on Iraq’s weapon caches, which was our justification for waging that war. The NY Times reported on the thousands of chemical weapons found over the course of our engagement there and some suspect that more of the active weaponry ultimately ended up in the hands of the Syrians. But you know what, this is immaterial to my larger point.
I supported something in which I didn’t believe because my philosophy mostly aligned with the stated policy objectives of those driving it forward. But over time, I realized that the political party pushing that agenda forward, for all its talk of small government and responsible foreign policy, merely wanted big government to advance its interests and reward its political allies. And sadly, the only other legitimate political alternative is doing the same thing with a different set of big government objectives.
I eventually came to a place where I couldn’t honestly defend my personal philosophy and support some of the public policy choices made by representatives in the party I traditionally supported. I’m suspicious of overreaching government power. I took to heart the chief lesson learned by the Founders of the United States of America – unchecked power can and will be abused. So, they designed a system where no one entity of government could act without the cooperation—and compromise—of the other entities. But that system is gone now. When the President of the United States takes unilateral action and half the country cheers him because he’s a member of their political party, and they would jeer if a President from the other party tried the same thing, it’s hard to believe in the process. The process has been replaced by parties.
And it’s frustrating because, like I noted near the beginning, I find tremendous agreement with friends and colleagues on important issues that affect our day-to-day lives. A government represented by people like us, not entrenched ideologues, would be something indeed. My wife and I just had a baby and as we prepare for the future, I’m drowning in the details of our finances. My wife and I (seem to) make a good living, but when I look at the costs ahead I’m worried. And no one is talking about that. No one is working to address the problem in our tax code that doesn’t take enough taxes out of a married couple’s income so that they owe money during tax season. That issue, and many others like it, isn’t sexy, so it’s rarely addressed.
So… I don’t know where to turn. The only thing I know how to do is be true to what I believe. I stand by my principles. To anyone reading this, I would simply ask that you be consistent. If you think it’s wrong for the government to stick its nose into the parenting style of people who let their kids walk, alone, to the park, then it should also be wrong for the government to stick its nose into the consensual relationship between two adults be they a man and a woman or two men or two women.
And if you think it’s wrong for the President to exercise too much unchecked power when he’s a democrat, then I hope you feel the same way when he’s a republican. And vice versa. I think we would get better representation if we were more consistent like that.
Now that we have that out of the way, how about that Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice trailer??
I’m late to the party on this, but I’ve wanted to address the rising criticism of superhero properties and storytelling for some time. Life interfered. Fortunately (or unfortunately), these criticisms keep coming so it’s just as relevant now as it was a month or two ago when these pieces began to propagate.
The first piece I saw that really struck a chord with me was one in which Simon Pegg said superhero movies are “dumbing us down.” He said they deal with “childish” subjects and take away from “real world issues.” Other than the irony of “Scotty,” from J.J. Abrams’ dumbed down Star Trek films (especially …Into Darkness…) saying this, I think he’s merely jumping aboard a popular train of criticism.
Superhero films are a genre like “action” or “comedy.” Criticizing superhero films for dealing with “childish” subjects is akin to criticizing comedies for making dick jokes. And to that I would say, a good dick joke is funny. So it is with superhero movies, too. X-Men: The Last Stand is a bad superhero movie. The Dark Knight is a good superhero movie (dare I say film). Or apples-to-apples, X-Men 2 is a good superhero movie.
The point is criticizing all superhero movies as “childish” is generalizing. It would be like criticizing Jaws as a “shallow” monster movie. It has popcorn moments to be sure, but the theme of Jaws is “man vs. nature.” It’s about a man with a fear of the water forced to confront a literal monster that lives in the water that threatens his home and his family. So, yes, there is a “monster” in Jaws, but it’s so much more than a monster movie.
More than anything I’m arguing that superhero films, like any other genre, have good ones and bad ones. Criticizing them all as childish—as the same thing—is simply inaccurate. It’s also conveniently forgetting the time before 2000 when Batman and Robin was the only kind of superhero movie we got. We should celebrate the serious and reverent way these properties are adapting to live action. We should even celebrate the quirky, fresh re-imaginings that we get like Guardians of the Galaxy.
We should be thankful that we now get movies like The Dark Knight and Captain America: The Winter Soldier. TDK was a movie with a guy who dresses up like a bat, yes, but it was also about self-sacrifice and what it takes to do the right thing. It was about chaos and savagery vs. humanity. TWS was about a guy who wears stars and stripes, yes, but it was also about unchecked government power and the surveillance state. It was about an individual who always believed in the system learning that the system was wrong. Of course, there was a lot of punching and kicking in the midst of these heady themes, but that doesn’t negate the fact these were good movies independent of the fact their protagonists wore outrageous costumes.
But superhero movies don’t need to confront serious issues to be taken seriously. The Avengers was two hours of fun. It’s exciting to see the disparate characters from separate franchises get together and fight a war. And what’s wrong with that? So what if the summer of 2012’s best movie moment was a giant green muscle monster punching a humungous flying alien worm in the face? It was a rousing moment that excited and galvanized the audience.
Superheroes are the Greek gods of the modern era. They tell larger than life stories about issues that matter. Spider-Man teaches us about power and responsibility. The X-Men teach us about discrimination and unfair judgment. Batman teaches us about the difference one man can make and about justice. It goes on and on.
More than anything I think these criticisms are elitism of the worst kind. The content contains costumes and superpowers so it couldn’t possibly have something substantial to say about government surveillance or corrupt institutions, etc. I wouldn’t describe Simon Pegg as an elitist, but I would call him a hypocrite. He’s made his money with comedies about zombies and aliens and super-spy thrillers and I don’t see how that material is any less childish than Iron Man or Batman. In fact, I would juxtapose The Dark Knight against Mission: Impossible 3 (or any of the slew of sequels in which he’s taken part) and argue there is less “childish” content in TDK than in those films.
But you know what? It shouldn’t matter. This shouldn’t be a pissing contest over what movie is less “childish.” When we get into the business of criticizing content based on superficial values rather than what those films are saying or how well the story is told, we go down a dangerous path.
Movies and TV are escapism, but they’re art, too. It’s hard to admit that about something like CHiPs or CSI: Miami, but it’s storytelling at the very least. But Game of Thrones is art. It’s about dragons and giant wolves, but it’s art. The people that put that show together take great care to present a highly visual, dense, visceral show that challenges the viewer. To bring it back to superheroes, specifically, Daredevil on Netflix goes to great pains to present a world of visual and figurative beauty where characters are motivated by their demons as much as their better angels. And yeah, the hero is a blind guy whose other senses are superhuman and he’s kind of a ninja.
If we’re going to criticize superhero films and media, let’s criticize them for when they don’t rise to the high standard that we’ve earned with The Dark Knight or Daredevil. Let’s not criticize them simply for existing based on some arbitrary standard of what’s “childish” and what’s not.
First off, I can’t apologize anymore for letting the blog go without updates for some time. It’s going to happen. I need to write and when I don’t do it, I feel bad, but it is what it is. I was writing – I was finishing my latest book and seeing it through to publishing – so it’s all about priorities. I’ll try to do better.
Something else also popped up, which kept me away from the blog…
I was never a huge fan of having kids. My wife wanted kids. She wanted them hard. But I never felt comfortable around kids and having them seemed like a huge hassle. I didn’t get to travel when I was young or do a lot of fun and exciting things because my parents poured everything they had into my education and my sister’s care. I love them for it, but it wasn’t a sacrifice I was in a huge rush to make. I’ve seen people around me have kids and it changes their whole lives. They’re happy about the change, but instead I wanted to do the things I never got to do growing up.
Well, let me tell you about my last few weeks.
On June 5th, I took my wife to the emergency room just before midnight. She was in agony, screaming. For a little more than a month prior, she had been suffering bad abdominal pain near the top of her stomach, below her chest. She also had sharp back pain. Her feet swelled sporadically.
My wife has an autoimmune disease that affects her thyroid as well as Celiac’s Disease, which makes it painful to eat gluten (yes, she has the actual disease and is not joining the fad diet). Before that month of pain and discomfort, we dismissed her fluctuating weight and health as problems with her medications’ dosages. This may be TMI, but my wife hasn’t had a menstrual cycle in years as a result of taking birth control and her thyroid issue.
In any case, she had finally gone to the doctor at my not-so-gentle-urging and he found troubling issues with her kidneys. He referred her to a nephrologist for further study. I was trying to keep a cool head, but began to worry that maybe she had a significant problem like cancer or one of many horrible sounding kidney diseases. Her appointment was for June 8th. We didn’t make it there.
On June 5th, we had settled into bed and were watching The X-Files on Netflix before sleep. My wife couldn’t settle. She was very uncomfortable. Finally, she began to feel real pain. It wasn’t long before she was screaming. Radiating pain settled into her mid-abdomen and wouldn’t go away. She could barely stand. My wife is a bit of a baby when it comes to pain, but I realized this was something else. I took her to the ER.
In my panic, I actually drove past a perfectly good hospital to go to another one. It ultimately didn’t matter, but it was late and I wasn’t thinking clearly with the moaning, occasionally yelping lady beside me. The ER wasn’t too busy, but somehow it still took 2 hours before my wife got help for her pain. The other waiting room attendees didn’t really seem to be there for “emergencies.” No one was doubled over in pain like my wife was anyway.
After waiting for the longest two hours ever (longer for my wife, I’m sure) the nurses finally took some blood and the doctor evaluated her. We sat in an ER patient room with the lights off when around 2:30 AM the doctor came back with a silver bullet diagnosis (almost Housein because it explained everything): my wife was pregnant.
I’m pretty sure when he said that I felt blood well up in my face. I felt hot and disconnected. My reaction was exactly the reaction I got for the next 48 hours as I told more people: “WHAT??” My wife had been on birth control the whole time, too.
My wife’s reaction was muted. She had just been given Dilaudid, so she was pretty cool with it. She was cool with everything. The doctor sent us to get an ultrasound, but he was pretty sure that the pregnancy was far along. Basically, my wife had a condition called preeclampsia, which is high blood pressure for pregnant women. Unfortunately, she had the worst form of it and it was impacting her liver and kidney functions. And, just for laughs, the extreme pain she had felt was the result of gallstones that were inflamed by her screwed up liver functions (the gall bladder and liver are right next to each other, apparently), but it wasn’t really a result of the pregnancy although that can exacerbate gallstone development.
An ultrasound technician took us down lonely, dark hallways to her rig. She took a lot of pictures of my wife’s abdomen, on the inside of course. The first batch were of things like her liver and gall bladder and kidneys. Then she moved onto the uterus. That’s when I saw my daughter for the first time.
I didn’t know exactly what I was seeing at first. I knew it was the baby, but when the technician took a freeze frame and labeled “eyes,” “nose,” and “lips” on the monitor I realized she was fairly old. But it didn’t matter how old she was because I realized that I wanted her. I felt guilty that we didn’t know she was in there and I wanted to hold her. It wasn’t guilt that made me want her though. Honestly, I can’t say it was anything rational. I just saw her in there and realized I was her dad.
But wait, there’s more fun. My wife’s preeclampsia was so severe they said she would need to deliver soon. What’s soon, you ask? How about an emergency C-section that same night? So, yeah, I got to hold the baby sooner than I thought. Turns out the baby was approximately seven and a half months old (28 weeks, 5 days).
At about five in the morning, I finally had all of the information I needed to make cogent calls to our parents. I was quick to point out that everyone was OK, but explained the pregnancy and my wife’s stable, but dangerous medical condition. All of the parents arrived soon after and everyone was in good spirits, generally happy about the surprising news. Some held it together better than others around the patient with the high blood pressure, but everything turned out OK.
I can only describe the experience as “whiplash.” We went from a late night visit to the ER, to learning my wife was pregnant, to learning she had a severe condition, to learning how old the baby was, to transferring hospitals, and then to sitting beside my wife a little more than twelve hours later during her C-section as they took the baby out. Our lives changed so dramatically in such a short amount of time that I’m still reeling almost 3 weeks later. My wife is doing great, much improved. The baby is in the NICU and will be for a while longer.
We had to cancel a trip to Seattle and Snoqualmie, WA (Twin Peaks!). I was/am pretty bummed about that since the new show will film there in the fall and I secretly hoped I would run into David Lynch or his crew scouting locations ahead of time. Maybe they’d ask me to be part of the show… I dunno.
A lot of our plans and thoughts about the future are up in the air. My wife was adamant about making sure I keep writing and focusing on my books. I haven’t written much as of late, but it’s been crazy, as I’m sure you can imagine. This is actually my first long form attempt since the baby.
I still want to travel. I still want to do the things I didn’t get to do when I was younger. Maybe I’ll take everyone up to Snoqualmie when the baby can travel or maybe when she’s a little bit older. But I feel comfortable around my little girl. I’m glad when I see her kick and move and even when she cries, since she’s a willful, firecracker – even trapped in her little islet. I think she’s going to be a redhead, from what we can tell with what little hair she has, and you know how temperamental they are.