It Came from Beneath My Mind!

2011: A Few Favorites from a Mediocre Year

2011-12-30T11:09:00.000-06:00

2011 was a weak year for entertainment. Sure, I enjoyed my fair share of movies, television, music and books/comic books, but I find myself hard-pressed to choose favorites in some of these formats. Nevertheless, it's the end of the year, so I'm compelled to try.

Either I have become too critical to enjoy most theatrical releases, or it was a horrible year at the movies. Using my long-established rating system on the Internet Movie Database, I gave no movies a perfect 10 in 2011, and I gave only six movies a near-perfect 9. I'd award each of these a "Favorite" designation in one of six different categories:

Favorite Comedy – Bridesmaids
Favorite Movie I Really Wanted to Hate – The Help
Favorite Horror Movie – Scream 4
Favorite Guilty Pleasure – Sucker Punch
Favorite Superhero Movie – Thor
Favorite Movie (Period) – Moneyball

By the way, the movie I absolutely hated in 2011 was In Time. I couldn't tell you why now; I've blessedly blocked it from my memory. But I remember that sitting through it made me very, very angry.

If it was a horrible year at the box office, all those responsible can be grateful that television had it worse. The networks' fall seasons were some of the worst I've ever seen. My two favorite new series were on cable: American Horror Story and Homeland. But my favorite drama episode of 2011 was the mid-season finale of The Walking Dead: Pretty Much Dead Already. There were a lot of complaints about the second season, but if you stuck with it, you were rewarded at the end with a brilliant convergence of everything that previously happened.

And while I watch many (too many) sitcoms, all it takes is watching one episode of Modern Family to realize it continues to belong in a different league altogether. Even so, my favorite sitcom episode of 2011 was from the new season of Community: Remedial Chaos Theory. When Troy and Abed throw a party in their apartment, several alternative timelines evolve from different decisions the characters make. It was not only clever, but also hilarious.

In 2011, I got the most entertainment bang for my buck in the print format. I've already written about the brilliant Flashpoint miniseries from DC Comics, but I also discovered a new favorite ongoing comic book series, Morning Glories. (If Lost were a comic book, it would be Morning Glories.) However, my favorite single comic book issue was Ultimate Comics Spider-Man #160, featuring the death of Peter Parker (Spider-Man). For real. I think that was the first time I have ever cried reading a comic book. It read like a relentless action movie that built to an emotionally cathartic climax.

I don't read too many novels these days, but I read anything Stephen King writes. And I cannot express how much I enjoyed his new book, 11-22-63. I sped through its 849 pages in only six days! It's something different for King, a non-stop, time-travel thriller with a heart-breaking twist. 11-22-63 is amazingly compelling and infinitely entertaining.

I don't write much about music, but I noticed one week when I was driving the car everyday that many of today's "hits" offer great dance beats. I didn't mind the frequently repetitive playlists that the local stations broadcast with songs like Without You by David Guetta, We Found Love by Rihanna and Good Feeling by Flo Rida. I'd love to be spilling a little blood on the dance floor right now, if I was ever awake late enough to do so.

Now that I've written this, I guess 2011 wasn't so bad. At least there were a handful of things I really liked. It just seems that selecting my favorites is normally more difficult. As I continue to embrace the Nerdist Way, allow me to use this metaphor: if 2011 was a swamp of mediocrity, let's hope that 2012 can triumphantly rise from it like Luke Skywalker's X-Wing...

The most-respected name in news? David Letterman!

2011-10-08T10:51:00.000-05:00

My relationship with David Letterman began in college when he hosted his first late-night show on NBC. I immediately fell in love with his sense of humor. I will never forget favorite moments, such as:

Christmas with the Letterman family
Catch-phrase tryouts (“They pelted me with rocks and garbage.”)
Dave telling Billy Idol that his parents must be awfully proud of him
Anything with Larry “Bud” Melman

After graduation, I recorded his show every night and watched it the next morning as I got ready for work. Cincy and I got tickets during a trip to New York in 1991. Before the show, when Dave came out to greet the studio audience, my hand shot up in response to his soliciation for questions about the show. I knew what I wanted to ask, but fumbled it badly. Pregnant with Kate, I meant to ask if everything would be OK for Cincy during the show. Dave turned it into a joke during the monologue. “I’m no medical man, but it generally takes 9 months (to have a baby),” he said, as the camera focused on Cincy.

In 1993, I championed Dave’s move to CBS and developed a hatred for Jay Leno that has grown exponentially since then. Michael and I got tickets for January of 2000, just as Dave was rushed to surgery for his famous quintuple bypass. Thinking there wouldn’t be a show, I received a telephone call from a Late Show intern while we were in New York asking if we would at the last minute be able to attend the taping of his return show. Absolutely! It was a historic show for a long-time fan like myself and I have a treasured souvenir t-shirt from the event.

I still record Dave every night, on DVR now, though, instead of VHS (or Beta). But I seem to have less time to watch complete episodes. I now fast-forward to the Top Ten List, a feature I used to despise (because I thought he was losing his edge) but now find comfortable, and any guests that I find interesting. I can “watch” an episode in less than five minutes, or when I get behind, as I did recently, 11 episodes in under an hour.

While I will always consider Dave to be the King of “Late Night TV”, I must admit he hasn't outgrown his propensity for hammering a joke into the ground. It’s never turned me off because with my sense of humor, I also tend to beat a dead horse or two. But it’s much easier these days to catch only a few minutes and know exactly what Dave is going to say.

There’s something going on with Dave lately, though. Part cranky old man, part “just doesn’t seem to care anymore”, Dave is absolutely fascinating to watch when his guests are from the news media. I’ve always gotten my news from Dave instead of watching an acutal newscast or reading it from a “respectable” source, so I always watch guests like Dan Rather and Tom Brokaw. And I’ve seen an evolution in Dave in recent years.

I first noticed it when his son, Harry, was born. Dave suddenly seemed very interested in environmental issues, expressing what seemed to be a genuine concern for the future of the planet. He frequently hosted “no-name” guests to talk about global warming and other concerns.

Then, somewhere along the way, he started asking the tough questions; the ones everybody thinks, but won’t really speak. He has grown increasingly persistent, refusing to let anyone off the hook, rephrasing his questions until he either gets a response or is interrupted by a commercial break. The thing is, they are mostly rhetorical questions for which there are no concrete answers, yet by asking them so passionately, he highlights the nonsense and hypocrisy. Dave may appear left-wing in his rants, but he doesn’t retreat from being critical of the current administration and really speaks common sense for all of us.

Here’s one recent example, where Dave discusses the whereabouts of Moammar Gaddafi with Anderson Cooper. This is a perfect example of how he’s not willing to accept the standard “line” from Washington; watch how he uses Bin Laden as a comparison:

And here’s a longer clip with Brian Williams where they discuss the folly of the Republican primary debates. Notice how he’s not being personal; he doesn’t blame any one person for what happened. Instead, he cries out, was there not ANYBODY on that stage who had the balls to defend the gay soldier who was booed? It gets really good at about 4:30:

I will admit that David Letterman too often relies on “Chris Christie is so fat” jokes (although who cannot laugh at a supposed clip of him speaking when the character appearing onscreen is really Jabba the Hutt), but you’re not likely to find a better common sense analysis of the futility of politics than in his grilling of news media (and political) guests. If you haven’t watched Dave lately, you’ve got to give him another try!

And, just so you don't think he's gone all-serious, here's a terrific clip that makes me laugh every time I see it:

I love you, Dave. Long live the King!

Everything you know has changed in a flash!

2011-08-27T17:53:00.000-05:00

The media blitz from DC Comics has been so intense the last few weeks that you don't have to be a comic book fan to know something big is happening. However, if you have been living in a Bat-cave, I will tell you that on Wednesday, August 31, with the release of Justice League #1, every one of DC's current titles will be cancelled and 52 new titles with #1 issues will begin rolling out.

This is significant for several reasons, not the least of which is the fact that for the first time in its history, DC will at the same time release digital versions of every one of these comics. Readers will now have a choice every Wednesday: make the regular trip to their favorite comic shop to pick up their comics or download them to their computers or mobile devices. I am declaring this event the advent of the "Digital Age of Comics".

And I'm using this event to launch the Comic Books tab on my blog. I'm starting out with a history of comic book publishing as seen through my eyes as a lifelong reader of DC comics. In this history, you will read about the eras of comic book publishing from the Golden Age of Comics through the Modern Age of Comics… and beyond. I'm also providing a link to the public inventory of my comic book collection, courtesy of Stash My Comics (so you'll always know what's in my long box) as well as my Wish List. I don' t know the practical purpose of doing this right now, but perhaps in the future it will become a forum for buying, selling and/or trading.

As potentially exciting as all this may be, the hype for the "New 52" has overshadowed what is going on right now, and that's some terrific storytelling within the pages of DC's current miniseries event, Flashpoint. This is one of those "alternative timeline" tales that are tremendously entertaining, while simultaneously head-scratching. Barry Allen (aka The Flash) awakens to find the world has changed… and he is the only one who remembers how things are supposed to be.

This is a world where the lives of our favorite superheroes have been dramatically altered:

· When Superman crashed to Earth as a baby, he was taken to a research facility where he grew up without exposure to the yellow sunlight to gave him powers. Therefore, he is currently a scrawny specimen, locked up and unknown to the rest of the world.

· When the Wayne family was held-up in a back alley of Gotham City, it was not Thomas and Martha who were killed; rather, it was their child, Bruce. The parents reacted in two different, extreme ways: Thomas became Batman and Martha became… I can't spoil it; it's too delicious!

· When Abin Sur crashed to Earth, he did not die and remained Green Lantern. Therefore, Hal Jordan never inherited his ring. Can an ordinary man still become a hero?

· Aquaman and Wonder Woman were to be married in a political maneuver to unite their kingdoms of Atlantis and Themyscaria. However, traitors on both sides sabotaged the proceedings and started a war, the results of which have the world in chaos and ruin.

It's not clear yet if the conclusion of Flashpoint will specifically set up DCs "New 52", but it has nevertheless provided a rollicking ride and acted as the last hurrah at the end of an era. Writer Geoff Johns is a genius, taking familiar characters and not just showing them in a different light, but completely turning inside-out the entire concept of "superhero".

Flashpoint, and its obligatory spin-off miniseries, have been both thought-provoking and exciting to read. It concludes on August 31, the same day as the new Justice League begins.

DC warned us about Flashpoint, and it wasn't just talk:

Everything you know has changed in a flash. The history of the DC Universe was altered due to the events of Flashpoint, and nothing is exactly the same.

Therefore, I have no reason to doubt DC now when its co-publishers, Jim Lee and Dan DiDio say:

This September, DC Comics explodes with 52 new #1 issues! The entire line of comic books is being renumbered, with new, innovative storylines featuring our most iconic characters helmed by some of the most creative minds in the industry.

Not only will this initiative be compelling for existing readers, it will give new readers a precise entry point into our universe.

I must admit that one person's entry point might be considered another's exit. I've always claimed I can't stop collecting comic books because I'm too invested in the ongoing storylines with characters for whom I care. So, is this the perfect opportunity to quit comics? I bet you know the answer to that one! No way; I've got to see what happens next.

The Live-Action Adventures of Captain America: 1944-2011

2011-07-23T09:18:00.000-05:00

Most people probably don't realize that Captain America has nearly as long a history as a live-action film and television character as he does as a two-dimensional comic book superhero. Chris Evans may be the most buff Captain America to hit the screen, but he's not the first. Although they could hardly be called an inspiration for his movie, Captain America: The First Avenger, three previous efforts certainly provide some suggestions toward what not to aspire.

Appearing less than three years after the comic book debut of Captain America, the 15–part Republic serial, Captain America (1944), takes many liberties with the character and story. For example, instead of fighting Nazis, Cap (Dick Purcell) tries to thwart the plans of "The Scarab" (Dr. Cyrus Maldor, played by Lionel Atwill) to acquire two devices that could be used as super-weapons. Also:

· Cap is really District Attorney Grant Gardner, not U.S. Army Private Steve Rogers

· The "Super-Soldier Serum" origin is not used

· Instead of a shield, Captain America carries a gun

· Sidekick Bucky does not appear

Although the serial is filmed in black and white, his costume appears in stark contrast to Cap's normal red, white and blue. In reality, it was grey, white and dark blue.

This version of Captain America is actually quite enjoyable, even though the character could easily have been replaced by any number of 1940s serial adventurers or superheroes. Apparently, it is highly acclaimed among cliffhanger enthusiasts for the story and action, not necessarily the character.

Thirty-five years later, Cap was the subject of two live-action TV movies airing on CBS, Captain America (1-19-1979) and Captain America II: Death Too Soon (11-23-1979). Again, many liberties are taken with the character and story. For example, although his father was a government agent in the 1940's, Cap (Reb Brown) exists in modern times as a former Marine who makes his living as an artist. After a potentially fatal accident, he is given an experimental formula (FLAG, Full Latent Ability Gain) that not only saves his life, but also gives him heightened strength and reflexes. His costume is based on a drawing of a superhero inspired by his father's story.

In these movies, Cap's shield is a detachable windshield from his motorcycle and is made of "Jet-Age plastics". The motorcycle itself can be launched from the rear of a modified van. The body of his costume (at the end of the first movie and into the second) is reminiscent of the comic books; however, he wears a weird helmet with painted wings on it.

These movies are silly and true curiosities from the late-70s. If anything, they remind me of The Six Million Dollar Man (1974-1978) complete with a musical metallic sound as Captain America performs his feats. I guess the first one was received well enough to make the second, but they are horribly dated when watching today.

Note: The best thing about Captain America II: Death Too Soon is that the villain (terrorist General Miguel) is played by Christopher Lee! Even though he spends most of his time behind either a desk or the steering wheel of the station wagon he's using as a getaway car, his stunt double does have a tussle with Cap in the climax.

In 1990, a movie finally attempted to adapt Cap's comic book history. Captain America was directed by Albert Pyun (Van Damme's Cyborg), but never released theatrically in the United States. In this version, Steve Rogers (Matt Salinger) cannot go to war because he has polo. Injected with the supersoldier formula, he becomes Captain America and goes to Italy to fight Nazi villain, Red Skull. Losing the fight, though, Cap is strapped to a missile that crash-lands in Alaska where he will remain frozen until thawed out as a modern crime fighter.

Sounds exciting and action-packed, doesn't it? Unfortunately, it's boring and poorly-made. This is largely due to two subplots which, on paper, are intriguing ideas for beefing up the plot, but in reality are badly-executed attempts to add drama. First, Cap's struggle in accepting that he now lives in 1990 causes him to act in a decidedly un-superheroic manner, fooling people so that he can drive off in their cars… not once, but twice. Second, a child in 1943 snaps a photo of Cap as he flies above him on the missle. This child will grow up to be President of the United States, an only-in-the-movies twist that fails to add depth to the fact that Cap must rescue him 47 years later… especially when the President (Ronny Cox) throws more punches than Cap.

This movie has the full uniform; however, it seems to be made of rubber and is not very form-fitting. The shield is used as depicted in the comics, but special effects of the time did not seem to be up to the task, even though many other movies before had done many greater things. That may be the key to Captain America's big screen failure: it's budget. Or lack thereof.

In 2011, filmmakers seem to have figured out all the problems in adapting Captain America. Somehow, in just over two hours, they squeeze in the complete lore of his origin plus a full-fledged adventure plus a multi-generational subplot that connects it all to next year's The Avengers. This is only Captain America: The First Avenger, but it certainly gets us excited for the other ones to join him.

The screenplay by Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely is not only structured perfectly, but adds depth to a familiar story while remaining remarkably loyal to it. Character development exceeds that of most superhero movies, not only providing ample reason for Steve Rogers to be chosen for the super soldier experiment, but also justifying his decisions and behavior as Captain America.

A good story must still be supported by good actors, and Captain America: The First Avenger has them in abundance: Tommy Lee Jones, Hugo Weaving, Stanley Tucci and Toby Jones all support the less heavy-hitting lead, Chris Evans. However, Evans does a great job turning his usual cockiness into patriotic earnestness. Also, Hayley Atwell is a fun addition as Peggy Carter, a woman who can see action on the battlefield, facilitate secret Army experiments and still find time to fall in love.

I fell in love with the action sequences in Captain America: The First Avenger. Although he doesn't often throw his shield for the boomerang effect, he wields it as an incredibly effective weapon. His battles are fun to watch; they're like the fights that are stereotypically presented in slow motion, but the fact that they're happening in regular speed now makes them seem fresh.

This is not a perfect movie, mind you, but it is an extremely competent one that masterfully translates the fantastic world of comic books into a realistic cinematic war adventure. (For a perfect example of this, watch how they modify his costume, while paying homage to the "old" one.) I didn't like it quite as much as Thor because it's missing the innocence that I found so charming in this summer's first Marvel comic book superhero movie. However, I enjoyed it much more than X-Men: First Class, to which this movie compares as a masterpiece.

The only failure in Captain America: The First Avenger is its score. As much as it pains me to say about Alan Silvestri, composer for my favorite movie of all time, Back to the Future, the music is awful. No theme for Cap?!? I realize that not every big budget adventure needs to be full of bombastic melodies, but whatever happened to the John Williams school of soundtrack composing? Pay attention when you watch the movie. Then imagine what a difference a more dynamic score might have made. For me, it could have elicited an emotional reaction which is ultimately missing.

Why did it take so long for Hollywood to get Captain America right? Perhaps it's because Cap has always been more a symbol than a real person, especially in the years preceding the Modern Age of Comics. (For more on this thought, please refer to my article at Downright Creepy, "The Bastard Stepchildren of Captain America") Lo and behold, when you get good writers to beef up the story, both in comics and in movies, you can take a good character and make him great… a 70-year old concept and make it relevant.

To take a look at them all in action, watch this video:

Classic Vincent Price on TV, Part 5

2011-07-21T18:17:00.002-05:00

Classic Vincent Price on TV, Part 4

2011-07-10T12:00:00.000-05:00

Confessions of a Collector

2011-06-25T11:57:00.000-05:00

My friend David started the first phase of an "estate sale" this weekend, thinning out his massive collection of approximately 40 years of pop culture treasures. My friend Cathy has decided it's time to purge her home of the "stuff" she's amassed over the years. Is something in the air? Have people been watching too many episodes of Hoarders?

David quotes Lao Tzu, "The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." Certainly, there's a percentage of people who feel that material goods hold them back and getting rid of their belongings is liberating. I don't disagree, but is it possible for some people to have a healthy, non-restricting relationship with their "things"?

I've been collecting since I was a child. My bedroom dresser drawers and cabinets were filled, not only with clothes, but also comic books, magazines, toys and trading cards. I'm the only person I know who as a teenager had a filing cabinet in his closet to store newspaper clippings of celebrity articles and movie reviews. Does this sound abnormal? I made straight-As in high school, never drank or did drugs, and had a close circle of friends. That seems more abnormal to me.

My mother enabled me. On one trip to find Wacky Packages at a 7-11, she asked me why I didn't just buy the entire box instead of collecting the individual packages. That way, she said, I would be sure to have the entire set. (However, she also reminded me how quickly it could all disappear, once throwing a Farrah Fawcett-Majors poster out the car window because I would not stop bothering my little brother and sister by poking them with it.)

The fact is, I've always enjoyed collecting. Not just having things, but organizing them. The physical process of putting comic books into bags or trading cards into plastic sleeves is relaxing for me. I love cataloguing everything, whether it be in the form of a handwritten, typed or computerized list. The only thing I ever did on the Commodore computer in my mother's sewing room was make a catalogue of all our Betamax movies and tapes. Today, I enjoy nothing more than discovering a new way to track a collection, even if it requires entering everything one more time.

Magazines & Comic Books

When that happens, I get to look at everything again. Right now, I'm working on my comic book collection for some articles I want to write. Every book that moves through my hands brings back a memory. I'll never have time to go back and read all of them, but that doesn't matter. I know that I have them in case I want to go back and read them. (That's the same reason I have so many movies: I may not watch them, much less ever unwrap them, but when the mood strikes me, they'll be there.)

I sometimes tell myself that if I'm ever bedridden or have absolutely no money, I'll have all these things to entertain me and will want for nothing. I secretly hope that if I'm ever alone and in a nursing home, I'll have enough of my wits about me to enjoy everything one last time.

Does any of this sound unhealthy to you? If so, let me assure you that my collections don't run my life. I work 40 hours a week, have a loving partner and an active family and social life. Collecting is my hobby and my therapy. It gives me something to always anticipate, because there's always something new.

My father and I had a joke when I was growing up. I would justify a new item by saying to him, "But, Dad, it's going to be a collector's item!" For a long time, I told myself that all my collections were an investment in the future. Truly, I have some items that are worth "something" today, but I believe two things about selling them:

1) They're only worth as much as someone else is willing to pay for them, and

2) They're only worth something if or when I ever decide to sell them.

From time to time, I have sold parts of my collection. But you know, I never really sold them for what they were worth; to me, anyway. And for every set of men's magazines I sell on eBay, I'm simultaneously regretting that instead of keeping an entire magazine from another set, I simply tore out the article and placed it inside the removed cover and filed it, throwing what was left into the trash.

It may sound like I live in a cluttered house among stacks and stacks of boxes, barely able to navigate the narrow hallways. While I do have many boxes in the basement, I can assure you that there are no animals, living or dead, buried beneath them. (Neither do I have a room for performing "surgery" on my dolls.) Unless you enter my office, you probably wouldn't even know I'm a collector. And I've never had so many boxes that I couldn't physically take them with me when I moved (counting four years of college as one time, I've moved at least 11 times since 1981).

My Library

I sometimes regret that I don't have an area to display my collections; my friend David had a "toy room" for a lot of his. But some day, we might upgrade to a larger house with an extra bedroom and I have some fabulous ideas for turning it into my museum. For now, my items will have to rest comfortably in their cardboard boxes, coming out for air as I occasionally make a new list and transport them to a newer, sturdier plastic box.

Boxes Needing Reorganization

The biggest regret about my collection is that it mirrors the aimlessness of much of my life. I've written before that I'm a jack of all trades, master of none. So is my collection. I have a little bit of everything. I sometimes wonder if I had decided I really, really liked one or two things, I could have gone about collecting everything for those one or two things. Instead, I have a little Star Trek, a little Star Wars, a little Charlie's Angels, etc. Partial collections are probably not worth as much as complete ones, except to me, of course.

A lot of people and things in my life give me joy; my collections are just one of them. Although aspects of what you've read may sound scary, I do not believe I could technically be considered a hoarder. A&E is not going to be filming at my house and there's no need for an intervention. I'm not doing myself or anyone else harm. I'll let other people have their epiphanies and do what they need to do to be happy. For now, I actually think I'm good. My only purging will be these thoughts as I unashamedly attempt to express them.

Classic Vincent Price on TV, Part 3

2011-06-24T07:51:00.003-05:00

Classic Vincent Price on TV, Part 2

2011-06-19T17:15:00.000-05:00

Super 8? I'm sorry; it's not great.

2011-06-16T06:17:00.000-05:00

I'm not a kid anymore, but I'm still learning lessons, sometimes over and over again. You'd think I might proceed with caution upon hearing that the movie Steven Spielberg was producing and J.J. Abrams was writing and directing was a loving homage to THE best movies of my lifetime. You'd think I would hold my expectations in check because I've been burned in the past when I've blindly submitted to movie hype. However, you'd be wrong. With Super 8, I neither proceeded with caution nor held my expectations in check. And guess what? I got burned.

In my defense, I'm the person who once said, after sitting in a theater weeping during the "Kick the Can" segment of Twilight Zone: The Movie, "Steven Spielberg can do no wrong." As it turned out, the truth was that he could indeed do wrong and, in my opinion, has done wrong many times since then. But at that time in his career, with Duel, Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and E.T. behind him, I don't think I was making an unrealistic statement.

Spielberg started out in TV, you know. And in that arena, J.J. Abrams could also do no wrong. Felicity, Alias and Lost were all favorite shows of mine, before I even realized that Abrams was their guiding force. (Fringe continues to be a favorite.) Then he made Star Trek, not only the best big screen franchise reboot I've ever seen, but also one of the most exciting movies I've ever seen. Surely the team of Spielberg and Abrams would be a match made in cinematic heaven. How could Super 8 possibly fail?

While not a disaster on the scale of Hook (Spielberg) or Undercovers (Abrams), Super 8 is nevertheless a disappointment. When did a producer's/director's intentions for making a movie become such a big part of its marketing campaign? I can't help but feel I would have appreciated Super 8 more if I was the one who decided it was a throwback to my favorite movies instead of someone telling me that's what it was. I would like to have experienced the wonder myself rather than being told that I was going to feel it.

A perfect tone is set from the very first note of Michael Giacchino's score as the Paramount stars swirl around their mountain top. And much of Super 8 is indeed perfect, starting with an introduction that succinctly tells us everything we need to know (and will hope to learn) about our young protagonist, Joe Lamb (Joel Courtney). It's not a spoiler to reveal here that when his mother is killed in an accident at the local steel mill, Joe is left with his father, Jackson (Kyle Chandler), neither boy nor man ready to cope with their new life. (However, it would be a spoiler to reveal the identity of the blonde man who Jackson promptly escorts to jail when he appears at his house after the funeral and the significance of the locket that Joe clutches in his small hand.)

Four months later, in the summer of 1979, Joe has the distraction of helping his friends make an 8mm movie for a regional contest. While filming late one night, the gang is witness to a horrific train crash. When they run for cover, their tripod topples and the camera continues shooting, capturing on film what will later reveal the "secret" of Super 8. And here, the seeds of the movie's disappointment are planted.

Up to this point, Super 8 is a wonderful family and coming of age drama. I don't recall a movie that so subtly, yet so completely, paints a picture of the joys and sorrows of growing up, the laughter and the heartbreak. The cast is excellent, the moments are sweet. THIS is a movie I would watch over and over again. But then a funny thing happens, and it's something that would normally be the icing on the cake for me: a monster appears. And this cake suddenly becomes stale.

Perhaps because the drama part of Super 8 is so strong, the first monster appearances are a distraction. And don't confuse my use of the word "appear" as an indication that we EVER get a good look at this monster. Sure, at the end we get glimpses, but they are fleeting. Until then, we only see bits and pieces of it, as well as the violent results of its handiwork. What's missing is a great payoff, but that moment never comes. Super 8 tries, but its biggest failing in attempting to pay homage is that it instead becomes unoriginal.

Why, oh why, does it fail? A movie where Lillian, Ohio IS my hometown of Enid, Oklahoma, where I remember riding my bike downtown to the camera shop, just like the kids in Super 8… a movie where the boy has a Halloween poster hanging on his wall and a TIE fighter hanging from his ceiling… a movie where the clicking together of tiny square jars of model paint is a familiar sound… a movie where the middle school students probably make Super 8 films for extra credit… Super 8 is not just about nostalgia for my childhood; heck, it's about ME! (And it's not only because a monster never appeared in Enid that I began disliking Super 8 when one appeared in the movie.)

I think the biggest misstep of Super 8 is that it squanders the execution of its "hook": the 8mm film that reveals what crawled out of the wreckage of the train. That's a great concept and certainly one to build a movie around, but there's absolutely no suspense in using it here. When told that a "rush" job to develop the film will take three days, we should feel every agonizing hour in anticipation. Instead, it's merely forgotten. The problem is that the kids don't KNOW what's on the film, so it's usefulness as a plot device is practically negated.

When they do discover what's on the film, Super 8 goes to fast-forward. Its careful, thoughtful pace is left in the dust of a frantic "rescue-the-girl-from-the-monster" adventure. But it is completely standard; there is nothing special remaining. It is here that I think most of the comparisons to early Spielberg are made.

It's Spielberg-lite, though. I mean, in E.T., you'll never forget Elliott's long bicycle ride through town, being chased by the bad guys… the music builds… there's a roadblock… you feel like you're going to scream from the suspense… and then John Williams' score explodes… and the bicycle flies! The release of emotion every time I've seen it returns to me now as I write this; I literally have chills. Super 8 has no such moment, and it's desperately needed for the characters we now care so much about.

It tries, but its climax is – SPOILER - strictly Close Encounters of the Third Kind. (Lite, though, of course.) In robbing from the real classic, Super 8 doesn’t even take time to milk the ending for what it's worth. Instead, it lingers on a shot so heavy-handed that it nearly tears down the perfection of everything so lovingly built in the first part of the movie. I don't want to ruin the image for you in case you're buying into it, but for me it's a metaphor so obvious I'm actually offended it's used.

While I recognize aspects of E.T. and Close Encounters in Super 8, the comparison I've heard most often is to The Goonies. As much as I loved the movies of that era, I've never cared for The Goonies. Super 8 is not The Goonies… and that's a GOOD thing. Much more grounded in reality with more believable situations and fewer annoying characters, it turns out that Super 8 is perfect from start to finish when compared to The Goonies.

Standing on its own, though, it's only half-perfect. The monster in Super 8 isn't the only beast Spielberg and Abrams had to wrestle; it was also the combined might of their legacies. Instead of working together to create something fresh and new, they've only borrowed from themselves to remind us of better times. It almost works; I mean, they've borrowed from the best. And because of that, Super 8 is a good movie. But, for me, it really should have been great.

Classic Vincent Price on TV, Part 1

2011-06-09T21:16:00.000-05:00

Origins

2011-05-31T20:46:00.020-05:00

About this time last year, I wrote a lovely sentiment about “pride” and remember wishing I had a blog on which to post it.

A year has passed. I realized this morning that it was Pride week again in Kansas City. And I still had no blog.

In an attempt to force myself into action, I am going to procrastinate no longer! While this is ~~probably~~ definitely not the way I want my blog to ultimately look (it's awfully... black), it’s a start and will give me a direction in which to head.

I think the primary reason for delay was (and is) that I am a man of too many interests. The label “Jack of all trades, master of none” is sort of my life story and is likely what has prevented me from ever knowing what I want to be when I grow up. Like a dying Spock, the needs of the many have outweighed the needs of the few.

But Spock returned, and so can I... reborn with more focused interests, about which I will use this space to write.

Until now, I have been overwhelmed by everything I wanted to accomplish in a blog, with a grand vision for an all-inclusive, universe-spanning catalog of all things Jeff. But following some quality “me” time the last couple of weeks, it now seems more manageable for me to go back to the basics and focus on the interests that have always been with me.

It’s the interests I collected early in life that remain close to my heart and the things I discovered on my own without influence of others that seem most authentic to me. So I’ll write about how my father took me to buy comic books after weekend haircuts, how the werewolf from Dark Shadows terrified me after school (even while I continued to watch), how I used to set my alarm clock for late Friday night/early Saturday morning so I could wake up to watch Count Gregore and the old Universal Monsters on TV, and how I threw a such a bloody fit about seeing the latest Planet of the Apes movie that my parents dropped me off at the theater alone.

Although I have already referenced Star Trek, I probably won’t write about it again. That was an interest I latched onto; it was never really my own and has not remained consistent since junior high. But I will write about the reboot movie from 2009, because I loved it. And if there’s anything I will always write about, it’s movies.

And TV. Because I remember the day we first got cable and how my parents surprised us with it, having to be home on Saturday nights to watch Mary Tyler Moore, Bob Newhart and Carol Burnett, and the first thing I recorded on our brand new Betamax (the 2^nd season premiere of Charlie’s Angels).

That leaves me to reconcile just one thing. It’s something that is really nobody’s business, yet is nevertheless part of who I am. We’ll see how it develops, but I think for now (and except for right now) I will not necessarily draw your attention to the fact that I am a gay man; instead, try to weave it seamlessly into my blog. I’d be a hypocrite to do otherwise.

So I invite you to join me on a trip. With our route mapped, expecting a few inevitable detours, let’s start by reviewing my thoughts from last year about pride. Because, if anything else, I hope that this blog is something of which I can one day be proud.

Click to read: My Pride Email from 2010