Dorian Peace Joins SAoC

simpleartofcrime:

You may have noticed that we’ve got a new addition to Simple Art of Crime. I’d like to welcome Dorian Peace to the SAoC family.

So far he’s written two great pieces on a two completely different comic books, the anthology of best crime stories that has a little bit of everthing and the true crime story Union Station.

Union Station is one of the most interesting stories, as it has so much to do with J. Edgar Hoover’s war on crime as it does with anything else.

After reading Dorian’s excellent review, he’s made me want to talk a bit about James Ellroy’s American Tabloid - which is really about America’s corruption.

So expect that quite soon, other wise stay tuned as I’m sure Dorian is going to have a shit-ton of other great stuff to write about!

Thank you, sir!  I appreciate it.  I’m not entirely sure how often I’ll post but I’ll try to get a new piece up once every few days to a week, if possible.  I really like pontificating on this stuff.  And I look forward to your bit about James Ellroy.

Anyone so inclined should follow The Simple Art Of Crime tout de suite.


simpleartofcrime:

REVIEW: Union Station written by Ande Parks with art by Eduardo Barreto.  Published by Oni Press.
Originally published in 2003, with a new edition having been released in the summer of 2009, Union Station is a fantastic entry into the historical-fiction-but-not-really-fiction subgenre of crime fiction - like Bendis and Andreyko’s Torso, Union Station dramatizes actual events and the actual people involved with just a pinch of speculation filling in some gaps.
In June of 1933, the transportation of a criminal named Frank Nash to Leavenworth went tits-up when his police escort was gunned down in a massive shoot-out in Kansas City’s Union Station.  The crux of this story and this solid graphic novel on which its based is that nobody knows WHO exactly pulled the first trigger and why.  Heavily implicated is Nash’s associate Vern Miller and rumored connections to Pretty Boy Floyd.  Leading the federal investigation is an agent named Reed Vetterli who is clearly in over his head - as facts begin to present themselves, he is confronted by Hoover’s office who wants the ballistic evidence hushed up.  Acting as first-person eye witness is a reporter and wholesome family man Charles Thompson, who has uncovered some damning evidence of his own.
The thing that makes this such a meaningful and relevant work, a much deeper and more thought-provoking comic than most crime stories, is that the consequences run deeper and harder questions are being asked of the principles.  The fact that this could well be an inside job on the part of the FBI as easily as it could be a simple criminal escape haunts our main characters.  They are plagued by the question that people even today are forced to ask of themselves:  Is it better to shut up and maintain a status quo or do you throw everything away for the truth?  Can you trust the status quo so explicitly?  The only man who was ever punished for the incident was Floyd’s guy Adam Richetti, who died in the gas chamber.  By most accounts, Richetti and in fact, Floyd’s direct involvement was dubious at best but Hoover’s FBI wanted to blame SOMEONE and, as is the case in most incidents where SOMEONE must NECESSARILY be blamed and penalized so that the powers of good may claim triumph, whoever is most readily available must take the fall.
Underneath the surface exterior of a rock-solid crime caper (for which it’s worth a purchase anyway) there beats a very human heart.  Vetterli is just trying to do the right thing and seeing his balancing act makes his struggle more poignant.  Thompson may actually be the piece’s most human character, a good-hearted and loving family man whose soul could be tarnished and who might be willing to sacrifice his soul for the love and health of his wife anyway.  Their moments together define the book for me.  Even Vern Miller, himself a criminal, is painted with a nuanced brush - his tragedy is heartbreaking and his wife’s confession under the pressure of FBI agent August is another key moment.
To say this book is well crafted might be an understatement.  Very rarely do you find books, particularly comics, so impeccably researched and documented.  A thorough footnotes section in the back answers a lot of questions you might have about how much of this comic is true (surprisingly, most of it) and a bibliography of resources might have you making a trip to the library.  Parks understands pacing and rhythm, along with strong and well-developed characterization.  Unlike so many lesser entries into hardboiled crime fiction, which feature stock characters that rarely amount to more than two-dimensional “tough guy” stereotypes, Union Station is a gangster piece with a human heart and a thoughtful mind, insisting that the events of history were once a very real part of the lives of the people experiencing them and the lessons of history resonate today.
The artwork is ably handled by veteran Eduardo Barreto who I remember from some issues of Detective Comics back in the late 80’s and 90’s and I’m sure you yourself remember from one of his many, many comic book credits across a wide range of publishers.  He’s one of the industry’s MVP’s for a reason: his storytelling ability is quality and his character design is very good, indeed.  This isn’t the flashiest comic you’ll ever see but it doesn’t need to be.  The cleanly-rendered characters, period-correct designs and eye for detail make this eminently readable.  The art serves the story and it’s much better for it.  The comic-strip aesthetic with relatively few visual flourishes may seem plain or even dated but I think it’s gorgeous - tastefully beautiful with a sincerity that brings the mid-20th-century style (my personal favorite) to life.
While it’s pretty obvious that this book is indispensable reading for true crime junkies, as well as anyone who happens to enjoy an Untouchables-era gangster story, I would go so far as to recommend it to anyone who just appreciates good, down-to-earth story-telling and particularly that which has a genuine human spirit.  Go read it.
- Dorian Peace

This is another piece I wrote for The Simple Art Of Crime, a tumblr you should Follow if you have such an inclination.

simpleartofcrime:

REVIEW: Union Station written by Ande Parks with art by Eduardo Barreto.  Published by Oni Press.

Originally published in 2003, with a new edition having been released in the summer of 2009, Union Station is a fantastic entry into the historical-fiction-but-not-really-fiction subgenre of crime fiction - like Bendis and Andreyko’s Torso, Union Station dramatizes actual events and the actual people involved with just a pinch of speculation filling in some gaps.

In June of 1933, the transportation of a criminal named Frank Nash to Leavenworth went tits-up when his police escort was gunned down in a massive shoot-out in Kansas City’s Union Station.  The crux of this story and this solid graphic novel on which its based is that nobody knows WHO exactly pulled the first trigger and why.  Heavily implicated is Nash’s associate Vern Miller and rumored connections to Pretty Boy Floyd.  Leading the federal investigation is an agent named Reed Vetterli who is clearly in over his head - as facts begin to present themselves, he is confronted by Hoover’s office who wants the ballistic evidence hushed up.  Acting as first-person eye witness is a reporter and wholesome family man Charles Thompson, who has uncovered some damning evidence of his own.

The thing that makes this such a meaningful and relevant work, a much deeper and more thought-provoking comic than most crime stories, is that the consequences run deeper and harder questions are being asked of the principles.  The fact that this could well be an inside job on the part of the FBI as easily as it could be a simple criminal escape haunts our main characters.  They are plagued by the question that people even today are forced to ask of themselves:  Is it better to shut up and maintain a status quo or do you throw everything away for the truth?  Can you trust the status quo so explicitly?  The only man who was ever punished for the incident was Floyd’s guy Adam Richetti, who died in the gas chamber.  By most accounts, Richetti and in fact, Floyd’s direct involvement was dubious at best but Hoover’s FBI wanted to blame SOMEONE and, as is the case in most incidents where SOMEONE must NECESSARILY be blamed and penalized so that the powers of good may claim triumph, whoever is most readily available must take the fall.

Underneath the surface exterior of a rock-solid crime caper (for which it’s worth a purchase anyway) there beats a very human heart.  Vetterli is just trying to do the right thing and seeing his balancing act makes his struggle more poignant.  Thompson may actually be the piece’s most human character, a good-hearted and loving family man whose soul could be tarnished and who might be willing to sacrifice his soul for the love and health of his wife anyway.  Their moments together define the book for me.  Even Vern Miller, himself a criminal, is painted with a nuanced brush - his tragedy is heartbreaking and his wife’s confession under the pressure of FBI agent August is another key moment.

To say this book is well crafted might be an understatement.  Very rarely do you find books, particularly comics, so impeccably researched and documented.  A thorough footnotes section in the back answers a lot of questions you might have about how much of this comic is true (surprisingly, most of it) and a bibliography of resources might have you making a trip to the library.  Parks understands pacing and rhythm, along with strong and well-developed characterization.  Unlike so many lesser entries into hardboiled crime fiction, which feature stock characters that rarely amount to more than two-dimensional “tough guy” stereotypes, Union Station is a gangster piece with a human heart and a thoughtful mind, insisting that the events of history were once a very real part of the lives of the people experiencing them and the lessons of history resonate today.

The artwork is ably handled by veteran Eduardo Barreto who I remember from some issues of Detective Comics back in the late 80’s and 90’s and I’m sure you yourself remember from one of his many, many comic book credits across a wide range of publishers.  He’s one of the industry’s MVP’s for a reason: his storytelling ability is quality and his character design is very good, indeed.  This isn’t the flashiest comic you’ll ever see but it doesn’t need to be.  The cleanly-rendered characters, period-correct designs and eye for detail make this eminently readable.  The art serves the story and it’s much better for it.  The comic-strip aesthetic with relatively few visual flourishes may seem plain or even dated but I think it’s gorgeous - tastefully beautiful with a sincerity that brings the mid-20th-century style (my personal favorite) to life.

While it’s pretty obvious that this book is indispensable reading for true crime junkies, as well as anyone who happens to enjoy an Untouchables-era gangster story, I would go so far as to recommend it to anyone who just appreciates good, down-to-earth story-telling and particularly that which has a genuine human spirit.  Go read it.

- Dorian Peace

This is another piece I wrote for The Simple Art Of Crime, a tumblr you should Follow if you have such an inclination.


simpleartofcrime:

REVIEW: The Mammoth Book Of Best Crime Comics by Various, Edited by Paul Gravett and designed by Peter Stanbury.  Published in the US by Running Press and in the UK by Robinson Publishing
How best to encapsulate this brilliant anthology by comics journalist and historian Paul Gravett?  Perhaps simply to say that it’s literally essential reading for anyone who is a fan of of crime comics in any capacity.  There is rare and hard-to-find material that would make the jaded and well-read aficionado satisfied.  There are examples of some of the classic and celebrated crime comics that will serve as a great introduction to new fans.  There are strips from the American Golden Age as well as more contemporary work from Europe’s finest cartoonists.  There are writers and artists so highly celebrated (and some not necessarily for their work in this particular genre) that their names transcend the world of comics and there are people whose very deserving work you’ve never heard of.  There are works of deep, heart-rending emotion and comics of complete absurdity.  This is simply the best cross-section of crime comics ever collected in a single edition and your collection is empty without it.
Represented herein are Alan Moore, whose Warrior-era short is a gritty song about gangster life set to gorgeous Lloyd Thatcher artwork, Simon & Kirby’s post-war story about counterfeiters, and a classic Spirit strip by Eisner that nearly makes it worth the price of admission alone.  Also represented are absolute masters of the form who are sometimes tragically neglected by modern-era superhero fans:  the himself-tragic Jack Cole tells a hideous cautionary fable about drug abuse, the brilliant Bernie Krigstein tells a tough-to-swallow but intensely conveyed story about a blind painting savant, and Alex Toth is typically stunning, his clean, angular 1950’s style on full display.  Fantagraphics mainstay Charles Burns contributes the most bizarre and surreal entry, a Lynchian story of a wrestler-detective uncovering a smalltown insemination scandal.  Tried-and-true genre standbys Max Allan Collins and Terry Beatty offer a Ms. Tree story, Neil Gamian and Warren Pleece tell a creepy and unsettling story about an underground society and Paul Grist does a welcome and solid Kane comic.  And I couldn’t even picture a comprehensive collection of crime comics that didn’t include the genre-defining, Comics Code-defying work of Johnny Craig.
Obviously, a big strength of this anthology is the variety of material and styles.  “Crime comics” is a label that is far broader than it’s given credit for.  You will almost certainly wind up learning about new cartoonists that you weren’t familiar with.  As shamed as I am to say it, I am not as familiar with European cartoonists as I’d like to be.  Since purchasing this book, I have discovered many names whose works I now follow and love.  Jordi Bernet, whose artwork adorns the cover, is represented in a Torpedo 1936 story scripted by Sanchez Abuli that will absolutely make you a fan of their acclaimed Depression-era gangster series  (please also look forward to the newly collected English-language edition of Torpedo, published by IDW).  Bernet, who has recently done artwork for DC’s Jonah Hex, is now an indispensable part of my comics collection, as he should be yours.  Gianluigi Gonano scripts a very human and street-level story about his character Commissario Spada which is rendered in remarkable realism by Gianni De Luca.  Carlos Sampayo and Jose Munoz bring a sketchy, Tothian quality to a story about their character Alack Sinner, whose New York is beautifully realized, especially by two Spaniards originally from Argentina.  And I scarcely feel the need to mention Tardi, whose West Coast Blues was recently published by Fantagraphics.  I genuinely feel sorry for American readers unfamiliar with these incredible talents.
There could never be a collection of crime comics that didn’t acknowledge American Golden Age newspapers strips.  In addition to the aforementioned and indispensable Spirit, novelist Mickey Spillane contributes not one but two entries, his Mike Hammer being a near-guaranteed inclusion.  Speaking of novelists working in comics, I might have to choose Dashiell Hammett’s Agent X-9 strip as my single favorite thing in this whole book, both because I am a diehard Hammett fan and also for the undeniably superlative artwork of Alex Raymond.  After the publication of his last novel but before he went to Hollywood, Hammett had a stint in the funny pages - his Agent X-9, certainly a detective but also an FBI agent? enjoyed a memorable run, featuring his trademark stark and powerful scripting, sparse and muscular characterization and myriad plot twists.  But let’s talk about X-9’s greatest trait, the gorgeous artwork.  Raymond, probably best known for Flash Gordon, is at the top of his game here.  Every detail is stunningly and realistically rendered, his era-defining aesthetic completely realized.  Raymond had a talent for drawing with incredible style and beauty, everyone looking like a model, impeccably dressed and capable of strong facial expressions and sincerity, never mind that every scene is another chance for a glamorous pose.  If you love the aesthetic of 1930’s and ‘40’s prose and film, you will love Alex Raymond, whose work embodies everything classy and sexy about the era and that’s the bottom line.  You could very well feel compelled to pick up IDW’s compilation of Rip Kirby comics, as well, Rip Kirby being a detective character Raymond created and worked on exclusively for many years (sadly, not represented in this particular anthology).
What’s left to say except that this is a perfectly realized anthology of crime comics that, while not entirely exhaustive, is as close as anyone could possibly ask for, compiled by a gentleman with obvious good taste and a long history studying the artform.  If you value crime stories, for their intensity, for their bleak humor, for their desperation and struggle, you owe it to yourself to pick it up.
- Dorian Peace

This is a review I wrote and posted on Simple Art Of Crime, a blog of crime fiction I’ve been invited to contribute to.  If you have any inclination at all, please Follow!  And big thanks to Pete, who is awesome for starting this blog, even if it was just to get people to give him recommendations.

simpleartofcrime:

REVIEW: The Mammoth Book Of Best Crime Comics by Various, Edited by Paul Gravett and designed by Peter Stanbury.  Published in the US by Running Press and in the UK by Robinson Publishing

How best to encapsulate this brilliant anthology by comics journalist and historian Paul Gravett?  Perhaps simply to say that it’s literally essential reading for anyone who is a fan of of crime comics in any capacity.  There is rare and hard-to-find material that would make the jaded and well-read aficionado satisfied.  There are examples of some of the classic and celebrated crime comics that will serve as a great introduction to new fans.  There are strips from the American Golden Age as well as more contemporary work from Europe’s finest cartoonists.  There are writers and artists so highly celebrated (and some not necessarily for their work in this particular genre) that their names transcend the world of comics and there are people whose very deserving work you’ve never heard of.  There are works of deep, heart-rending emotion and comics of complete absurdity.  This is simply the best cross-section of crime comics ever collected in a single edition and your collection is empty without it.

Represented herein are Alan Moore, whose Warrior-era short is a gritty song about gangster life set to gorgeous Lloyd Thatcher artwork, Simon & Kirby’s post-war story about counterfeiters, and a classic Spirit strip by Eisner that nearly makes it worth the price of admission alone.  Also represented are absolute masters of the form who are sometimes tragically neglected by modern-era superhero fans:  the himself-tragic Jack Cole tells a hideous cautionary fable about drug abuse, the brilliant Bernie Krigstein tells a tough-to-swallow but intensely conveyed story about a blind painting savant, and Alex Toth is typically stunning, his clean, angular 1950’s style on full display.  Fantagraphics mainstay Charles Burns contributes the most bizarre and surreal entry, a Lynchian story of a wrestler-detective uncovering a smalltown insemination scandal.  Tried-and-true genre standbys Max Allan Collins and Terry Beatty offer a Ms. Tree story, Neil Gamian and Warren Pleece tell a creepy and unsettling story about an underground society and Paul Grist does a welcome and solid Kane comic.  And I couldn’t even picture a comprehensive collection of crime comics that didn’t include the genre-defining, Comics Code-defying work of Johnny Craig.

Obviously, a big strength of this anthology is the variety of material and styles.  “Crime comics” is a label that is far broader than it’s given credit for.  You will almost certainly wind up learning about new cartoonists that you weren’t familiar with.  As shamed as I am to say it, I am not as familiar with European cartoonists as I’d like to be.  Since purchasing this book, I have discovered many names whose works I now follow and love.  Jordi Bernet, whose artwork adorns the cover, is represented in a Torpedo 1936 story scripted by Sanchez Abuli that will absolutely make you a fan of their acclaimed Depression-era gangster series  (please also look forward to the newly collected English-language edition of Torpedo, published by IDW).  Bernet, who has recently done artwork for DC’s Jonah Hex, is now an indispensable part of my comics collection, as he should be yours.  Gianluigi Gonano scripts a very human and street-level story about his character Commissario Spada which is rendered in remarkable realism by Gianni De Luca.  Carlos Sampayo and Jose Munoz bring a sketchy, Tothian quality to a story about their character Alack Sinner, whose New York is beautifully realized, especially by two Spaniards originally from Argentina.  And I scarcely feel the need to mention Tardi, whose West Coast Blues was recently published by Fantagraphics.  I genuinely feel sorry for American readers unfamiliar with these incredible talents.

There could never be a collection of crime comics that didn’t acknowledge American Golden Age newspapers strips.  In addition to the aforementioned and indispensable Spirit, novelist Mickey Spillane contributes not one but two entries, his Mike Hammer being a near-guaranteed inclusion.  Speaking of novelists working in comics, I might have to choose Dashiell Hammett’s Agent X-9 strip as my single favorite thing in this whole book, both because I am a diehard Hammett fan and also for the undeniably superlative artwork of Alex Raymond.  After the publication of his last novel but before he went to Hollywood, Hammett had a stint in the funny pages - his Agent X-9, certainly a detective but also an FBI agent? enjoyed a memorable run, featuring his trademark stark and powerful scripting, sparse and muscular characterization and myriad plot twists.  But let’s talk about X-9’s greatest trait, the gorgeous artwork.  Raymond, probably best known for Flash Gordon, is at the top of his game here.  Every detail is stunningly and realistically rendered, his era-defining aesthetic completely realized.  Raymond had a talent for drawing with incredible style and beauty, everyone looking like a model, impeccably dressed and capable of strong facial expressions and sincerity, never mind that every scene is another chance for a glamorous pose.  If you love the aesthetic of 1930’s and ‘40’s prose and film, you will love Alex Raymond, whose work embodies everything classy and sexy about the era and that’s the bottom line.  You could very well feel compelled to pick up IDW’s compilation of Rip Kirby comics, as well, Rip Kirby being a detective character Raymond created and worked on exclusively for many years (sadly, not represented in this particular anthology).

What’s left to say except that this is a perfectly realized anthology of crime comics that, while not entirely exhaustive, is as close as anyone could possibly ask for, compiled by a gentleman with obvious good taste and a long history studying the artform.  If you value crime stories, for their intensity, for their bleak humor, for their desperation and struggle, you owe it to yourself to pick it up.

- Dorian Peace

This is a review I wrote and posted on Simple Art Of Crime, a blog of crime fiction I’ve been invited to contribute to.  If you have any inclination at all, please Follow!  And big thanks to Pete, who is awesome for starting this blog, even if it was just to get people to give him recommendations.


I know I’m the only person on the planet who feels this way but DISTRICT 9 is overrated

What are the most awful things you could put in a film?  1)  Ugly depictions of racial subjugation and not even sensitively or intelligently portrayed… just ham-fisted, obvious, patronizing, lazy allegory and 2)  Cronenberg-style venereal horror, where we are forced to watch a man slowly mutate as his body falls victim to a harrowing plague.

That’s District 9 in a nutshell.  I guess it has a couple good things going for it:  it handles the whole “shaky digital handycam” aesthetic more ably than Cloverfield and it’s one of the few sci-fi movies that ISN’T based on an established work in some form of print media (that I know of) so I give it points in those two areas.  But, overall, it’s not worth the loads of praise that it’s getting and, as much as I love the new “all-inclusive” Best Picture category, definitely not worth an Oscar.  The action scenes are videogame bombast that make Starship Troopers look subtle by comparison and the rest of the movie is basically just Apartheid meets Gregor Samsa.  It’s a bitch to sit through and, whatever you do, don’t watch it while you’re eating as they’re deliberately trying to make you vom.


The reason Clint keeps coughing up blood in GRAN TORINO is because he won’t stop talking like Batman

It’s tearing his vocal chords to shreds.  Seriously.  That’s going to be Christian Bale in 40 years.

What a brilliant movie.  I wish more films were like this - no special effects or pretense, just genuine stories about actual human interaction.  I think Clint has become a lot more heartfelt and sincere in his age without losing any of his intensity and he’s better for it.  And saying Gran Torino is “racist” would be like saying Schindler’s List is “fascist”.

Another movie I watched while I was sequestered in my snowy prison:  Leatherheads.  Hardly the best movie I’ve ever seen but mildly entertaining.  If you’re wondering how to instantly win me over, no questions asked, make a 20’s period film and put dry, snappy, period-correct dialogue in it.  I’m a sucker for that stuff.  Also, the costume design and general aesthetic of the film was gorgeous… I will never get sick of looking at that.  Also, Jim Halpert got his all-American, pretty-boy ass handed to him which made me snicker.


Another thing about Wonka

What the hell is the purpose of Oompa-Loompas, anyway?  They appear to be cheap slave labor (another unspeakable blemish on Wonka’s already irrevocably poor character) but their little musical sketches bug the hell out of me.  Alright, as if it’s not bad enough that he just killed you and your corpse was sucked into a system of pneumatic tubes or dropped down a garbage shaft or what-the-fuck-ever, now they have to mock your tragic passing by chanting a merry song about HOW MUCH YOU DESERVED IT.

Imagine if someone killed you, desecrated your remains and then, just to top it off, danced around singing a happy tune about how you got what was coming to you just because you happened to like chocolate bars.  That goes beyond simply being sick and evil and horrible to being something that’s shockingly perverse, as if they get a strange enjoyment out of what they do.  Those little title cards that pop up and the on-screen text give the impression that the Oompa-Loompas are creating their own music videos to commemorate and celebrate your grisly demise.

Rule of thumb:  Don’t trust horribly-dressed orange midgets with freakish haircuts and that includes the cast of Jersey Shore.


You know what always disturbed me about Willy Wonka?  We never find out what happened to those kids who WEREN’T Charlie.  Given their complete disappearance and the physical and psychological torture they were subjected to, they are probably dead, which makes Willy Wonka a murderer of children for no reason other than the most minor and insignificant character flaws.  Seriously, capital punishment for watching television?  Or chewing gum?  I’d hate to see what would happen to the kid who picks his nose or masturbates too much.
Willy Wonka kind of reminds me of Kevin Spacey’s character in Se7en, acting as vengeful moral arbiter and killing his victims in hideously ironic ways in accordance with their perceived sin.  Except that Wonka is way worse because he’s only hurting minors.
The really creepy part is that Charlie seems to be cool with all of it.  Upon receiving the news that he will be inheriting this “candy factory” (and that term must be used loosely, as it’s less a candy factory than a living abattoir for slightly absent-minded but virtually innocent kids) he’s thrilled!  He’s just watched four other children meet a fate so gruesome it boggles the mind and not only does he NOT leap screaming out of the glass elevator but he wants to join in the fun.  For shame.
And why such whimsy and idyllic feelings for this movie in general?  I think it’s plain old nightmare-fuel but that’s just me.

You know what always disturbed me about Willy Wonka?  We never find out what happened to those kids who WEREN’T Charlie.  Given their complete disappearance and the physical and psychological torture they were subjected to, they are probably dead, which makes Willy Wonka a murderer of children for no reason other than the most minor and insignificant character flaws.  Seriously, capital punishment for watching television?  Or chewing gum?  I’d hate to see what would happen to the kid who picks his nose or masturbates too much.

Willy Wonka kind of reminds me of Kevin Spacey’s character in Se7en, acting as vengeful moral arbiter and killing his victims in hideously ironic ways in accordance with their perceived sin.  Except that Wonka is way worse because he’s only hurting minors.

The really creepy part is that Charlie seems to be cool with all of it.  Upon receiving the news that he will be inheriting this “candy factory” (and that term must be used loosely, as it’s less a candy factory than a living abattoir for slightly absent-minded but virtually innocent kids) he’s thrilled!  He’s just watched four other children meet a fate so gruesome it boggles the mind and not only does he NOT leap screaming out of the glass elevator but he wants to join in the fun.  For shame.

And why such whimsy and idyllic feelings for this movie in general?  I think it’s plain old nightmare-fuel but that’s just me.


If you had asked me what would make a fucking awesome movie, I probably would have said “a fast-paced mystery/action/humor film about a charmingly schizophrenic Victorian detective who knows kung-fu and has snappy repartee with his straightman sidekick and also it’s Robert Downey Jr and also Guy Ritchie directed it” even before Sherlock Holmes was ever announced.  In fact, I’m now going to have to curb a screenplay I was working on called Schizophrenic Victorian Kung-Fu Detective because it would be completely redundant.
It’s probably a bit unfair seeing this movie right after seeing Avatar because, yes, Avatar is objectively a better film that is probably more relevant and will be remembered longer but, to be honest, I think I almost had a better time seeing Holmes because it was hella cool.  The mediocre reviews sometimes claimed a muddled plot but I actually thought the story, which is a nice nod to the classic Hound of the Baskervilles “debunking a supernatural scare with slightly wacky steampunk science” trope, made sense in a movie-ish kind of way.  I also liked that the look of the film was gritty and dirty and unmistakably Victorian.
The elephant in the room is that THIS version of Holmes is nothing like your Basil Rathbones or whatever but who cares?  If Sherlock Holmes actually existed, he’d have to be a madman/genius and nobody is better at making that madman/genius blend funny and charming and likable and cool than RDJ and I would challenge anyone to do a better job casting this movie.  The idea of Watson being the less smart but more capable straightman to Holmes’ lunatic is inspired and makes for better buddy-cop-style banter than the more stereotypical Watson, who was a fat, bumbling boob.  Like with everything else in this movie, I approve.
The Ritchie-isms we would expect are there, too.  Slow-mo, intense fight scenes, rapid-cut editing used for effect, GREAT fucking music, and cheeky dialogue done in pitch-perfect “how dirty IS England, anyway?” accents are all on full display.
Come to think of it, nothing about this movie disappointed me.  I’ll see it again, I’m sure.

If you had asked me what would make a fucking awesome movie, I probably would have said “a fast-paced mystery/action/humor film about a charmingly schizophrenic Victorian detective who knows kung-fu and has snappy repartee with his straightman sidekick and also it’s Robert Downey Jr and also Guy Ritchie directed it” even before Sherlock Holmes was ever announced.  In fact, I’m now going to have to curb a screenplay I was working on called Schizophrenic Victorian Kung-Fu Detective because it would be completely redundant.

It’s probably a bit unfair seeing this movie right after seeing Avatar because, yes, Avatar is objectively a better film that is probably more relevant and will be remembered longer but, to be honest, I think I almost had a better time seeing Holmes because it was hella cool.  The mediocre reviews sometimes claimed a muddled plot but I actually thought the story, which is a nice nod to the classic Hound of the Baskervilles “debunking a supernatural scare with slightly wacky steampunk science” trope, made sense in a movie-ish kind of way.  I also liked that the look of the film was gritty and dirty and unmistakably Victorian.

The elephant in the room is that THIS version of Holmes is nothing like your Basil Rathbones or whatever but who cares?  If Sherlock Holmes actually existed, he’d have to be a madman/genius and nobody is better at making that madman/genius blend funny and charming and likable and cool than RDJ and I would challenge anyone to do a better job casting this movie.  The idea of Watson being the less smart but more capable straightman to Holmes’ lunatic is inspired and makes for better buddy-cop-style banter than the more stereotypical Watson, who was a fat, bumbling boob.  Like with everything else in this movie, I approve.

The Ritchie-isms we would expect are there, too.  Slow-mo, intense fight scenes, rapid-cut editing used for effect, GREAT fucking music, and cheeky dialogue done in pitch-perfect “how dirty IS England, anyway?” accents are all on full display.

Come to think of it, nothing about this movie disappointed me.  I’ll see it again, I’m sure.


I just saw Avatar.  It was not a good movie.  It was the BEST movie.
Coming out of the theater, I felt sort of the same way I did after I saw The Empire Strikes Back when I was 14 or when I saw The Return of the King when I was 20, just in that it occurred to me I had experienced something that made me glad people made movies.  It wasn’t merely a way to spend two hours, it was something you can carry with you when you go.  You shouldn’t wait until it’s out on DVD, you shouldn’t wait until it’s the in-flight movie somewhere, you should see it on a big screen in 3D and, if you’re lucky enough to live near a fantastic theater which I am, in IMAX.
To start off with, all the hype about the visuals is worth it and, to be honest, then some.  You won’t SEE a movie with stronger visuals anywhere.  It is somehow completely immersive and brilliantly designed and conceived.  It conveys FLIGHT better than, I believe, any movie ever released… you should watch it for the Banshee scenes alone.  It’s hard to fathom the time and effort that must have gone into creating an entire civilization, an entire PLANET, complete with proprietary flora and fauna.  It’s a glorious thing to behold.  The bar for CGI characters has been raised to an incredible level.  The constant and usually warranted criticism has always been that CGI characters in live action movies do not convey human emotion and do not feel naturalistic… they are cartoons awkwardly shoe-horned into a flesh-and-blood world.  Not so with the Na’vi characters.  You will probably be surprised how naturalistic their integration into the movie is.  The avatars themselves even look like the actors playing them, which took me by surprise.
Visuals alone could never make a movie.  The film’s true strong suit is the depth and breadth of the human experience they manage to communicate in just a couple hours.  This is a movie about love and betrayal, war and peace, jingoism and humanism, race and identity and the ever-present struggle between optimistic idealism and cynicism.  People sometimes mis-categorize this movie because it has a simple plot.  While that’s true, there’s no shortage of thematic depth.  I felt genuinely choked up a couple times during the movie.  Similarly, there are times that will make your heart soar.  It’s pretty amazing how deeply this movie can affect you.
Addressing some of the criticisms I hear:  The politics might be a bit ham-fisted and obvious but I actually don’t care that much.  I am so relieved that a movie even attempts to be substantial, I won’t dock it points for lacking subtlety.  “Look cool, shoot people, get laid, look cool, shoot people, get laid” is Hollywood’s mantra and it’s tiring and pointless.  As for the criticisms that the plot is purely a ripoff, you will find in ANY movie a plot structure and themes that are similar to other movies.  This does not plagiarism constitute.  Consider THIS.
Ahh… such a good movie.  I can’t wait to see it again.  Like I said, do yourself a favor and catch it NOW before it’s no longer in the theaters.

I just saw Avatar.  It was not a good movie.  It was the BEST movie.

Coming out of the theater, I felt sort of the same way I did after I saw The Empire Strikes Back when I was 14 or when I saw The Return of the King when I was 20, just in that it occurred to me I had experienced something that made me glad people made movies.  It wasn’t merely a way to spend two hours, it was something you can carry with you when you go.  You shouldn’t wait until it’s out on DVD, you shouldn’t wait until it’s the in-flight movie somewhere, you should see it on a big screen in 3D and, if you’re lucky enough to live near a fantastic theater which I am, in IMAX.

To start off with, all the hype about the visuals is worth it and, to be honest, then some.  You won’t SEE a movie with stronger visuals anywhere.  It is somehow completely immersive and brilliantly designed and conceived.  It conveys FLIGHT better than, I believe, any movie ever released… you should watch it for the Banshee scenes alone.  It’s hard to fathom the time and effort that must have gone into creating an entire civilization, an entire PLANET, complete with proprietary flora and fauna.  It’s a glorious thing to behold.  The bar for CGI characters has been raised to an incredible level.  The constant and usually warranted criticism has always been that CGI characters in live action movies do not convey human emotion and do not feel naturalistic… they are cartoons awkwardly shoe-horned into a flesh-and-blood world.  Not so with the Na’vi characters.  You will probably be surprised how naturalistic their integration into the movie is.  The avatars themselves even look like the actors playing them, which took me by surprise.

Visuals alone could never make a movie.  The film’s true strong suit is the depth and breadth of the human experience they manage to communicate in just a couple hours.  This is a movie about love and betrayal, war and peace, jingoism and humanism, race and identity and the ever-present struggle between optimistic idealism and cynicism.  People sometimes mis-categorize this movie because it has a simple plot.  While that’s true, there’s no shortage of thematic depth.  I felt genuinely choked up a couple times during the movie.  Similarly, there are times that will make your heart soar.  It’s pretty amazing how deeply this movie can affect you.

Addressing some of the criticisms I hear:  The politics might be a bit ham-fisted and obvious but I actually don’t care that much.  I am so relieved that a movie even attempts to be substantial, I won’t dock it points for lacking subtlety.  “Look cool, shoot people, get laid, look cool, shoot people, get laid” is Hollywood’s mantra and it’s tiring and pointless.  As for the criticisms that the plot is purely a ripoff, you will find in ANY movie a plot structure and themes that are similar to other movies.  This does not plagiarism constitute.  Consider THIS.

Ahh… such a good movie.  I can’t wait to see it again.  Like I said, do yourself a favor and catch it NOW before it’s no longer in the theaters.


I do not care for the news.

fireinyoureyes:

blissed:

The other day it was a 15 year old girl slicing up a sweet little 9 year old ‘just to see what it felt like’. Yesterday it was a 17 year old girl putting a cat in a 500 degree oven and then leaving, with her 14 year old accomplice. Today, it’s some dude killing his ex girlfriends, and both of his toddlers (one daughter with each girlfriend) to avoid child support and a 17 year old beating his 10 year old brother to death.

I swear, this is why I keep Firefox on Tumblr most of the time.

Exactly.

People become depressed because they see this twisted horror freakshow on the news and, since the news is SUPPOSED to be an objective reflection of reality, they assume that this is a fair representation of society.  IT’S NOT.  The news hasn’t been an objective reflection of reality since corporate takeover decided they can make more money turning it into this hideous carnival sideshow of all that is depraved and awful about humanity.  Granted, they may be telling the truth in that this stuff DID happen but it’s distortion via omission… they’ll deliberately ignore the interesting, relevant, and truly human stories that happen everyday and focus on something disturbing, all the while telling you THIS IS YOUR WORLD.

This helps them sell panic and fear and misanthropy which causes you to tune back in the next night, hoping that something will change or that they’ll be able to make sense of it but they never do.  They’re just cherry-picking the ugliest shit they can find and forcing you to look at it, hoping you’ll be afraid to turn away.  This is even more prominent in the world of political commentary where these shock-jock “pundits” create this horrible illusion that they sky is falling and that people who disagree with you are your enemy and that the only solution is to tune in again tomorrow where they’ll give you THE TRUTH.  No, they won’t.  They’re making everything a catastrophe just to get you to come back.

I once listened to Michael Savage, out of sheer morbid curiosity and because I was bored.  It was absolutely inane.  He was discussing how swine flu was going to ravage the land and we’d all die and, of course, using some sort of mobius-strip of circular reasoning, turned the whole thing into a partisan issue, which is what the “news” always does.  His political enemies were going to DESTROY YOU using their insidious combination of socialism and globalism and DISEASE!  DISEASE!  I’ve also watched Glenn Beck, again not for any purpose other than my own curiosity and insistence on remaining clued-in, despite all evidence that I should forget it and it was the circus sideshow you’d expect.  This was when he was on CNN Headline News and his utter lunacy was still relatively novel rather than a given.  I jokingly called it “The Apocalypse Report” because any given episode was to warn you of these Harbingers of the End Times.  And, in fairness, my guys have their sensationalist streak.  Fact:  Keith Olbermann is wrong and George W. Bush was never a literal Nazi.

So just turn it off.  Here’s actual news for you:  You’re going to wake up and your life will just be whatever it is and whatever you make it into.  That’s all.  If people understood this, then Rupert Murdoch’s empire of bullshit would die and nobody would ever read another one of his yellow rags again but it’s TRUE and it’s YOUR NEWS.  The end.


cover art by Dave Gibbons

cover art by Dave Gibbons

interior art by Dave Gibbons

interior art by Dave Gibbons

STUFF I DIGThe Originals by Dave Gibbons

Published by Vertigo Comics

Most know Gibbons as the artist who illustrated writer Alan Moore’s groundbreaking Watchmen.  This is a completely different animal altogether, something perhaps less revolutionary but with a lot more verve and style.  Handling both scripting and illustration, Gibbons displays his full talents as a storyteller in this original graphic novel about groups of teenage gangs in the future.

Don’t let the “in the future” tag fool you.  Although this is obviously supposed to take place in an undisclosed era in the future, this setting is more just an excuse to draw hover-scooters instead of vespas and experiment with bizarre fashion that hasn’t been invented yet.  It’s not pure sci-fi and it’s better off that way.  This is actually the comic book equivalent of Quadrophenia, about the lives that get caught up in gang wars between The Originals, this world’s stand-in for the Mods, and The Dirt, the opposing Rockers.  It’s also a teenage coming-of-age story about sex, violence, friendship and betrayal.

The main character, Lel and his best friend, Bok, are desperate to join The Originals, who are, in their opinion, the coolest gang.  In typical Mod style, they ride around on scooters, pop a lot of pills and dance to hip and trendy music.  Their clothes are sharp, all suits and skirts and their hair, just like everything else in this comic, is an homage to the 60’s.  They manage to win Ronnie, the Originals’ leader over with their superior graffiti skills.  Soon, they are selling drugs for money to save up for their own Hovers.  Lel falls in love with Viv, an Originals girl that would like to see him get away from the pills but he’s in too deep.  Their hated opposition, of course, are The Dirt, greasy, pompadoured bikers with a nasty violent streak.  Things go very wrong when Lel is mistaken for an Original who knifes a Dirt to death during a skirmish and revenge is ugly.  (The Originals’ zipped-up overcoats and heavy black shades conceal their faces, making the identity confusion easy).

This is an extremely simplistic and straightforward comic but it beautifully incorporates nearly every trope of teen melodrama and weaves it together with more style and tongue-in-cheek cool than you’re used to.  The friendship that will NEVER be torn apart except by a girl, the turf wars, the obsession with popularity and coolness via materialism, the music, the drugs, the crush evolving into cheap sex evolving into a sense of commitment, the fear of age, the fear of abandonment, the desperation of wanting to belong, the violent hatred of opposing social cliques… everything you’d associate with youth culture is perfectly realized in this comic, which sums up the prevailing zeitgeist of the mid-to-late 20th century.  That era was the era of the teenager; more than any other time in history, coolness and money and sex took precedent over basic survival and an entire generation defined themselves by it.  The book opens with a manifesto that is somehow the most definitively teenage sentiment ever written:  “Us youngsters ought to be grateful to live in this world, they told us.  Grateful our fathers had fought a war.  Grateful they’d won.  Grateful that all the guns had been put away.  Well fucking thanks, Dad.  But we want to live in our own world, not yours.”

Like A Clockwork Orange, this comic gives us not just a brilliant snapshot of youth culture, as it is, as it was, as it ever shall be, wrapped up in good looks, senseless sex, senseless violence, senseless style and rock and roll, but also the notion of youth culture as metaphor for the human condition in larger terms.  Like all teenagers, Lel wants everything to be new and cool and forward-thinking but like all teenagers, Lel grows up when he realizes that the hard decisions never go away… the climax of his story is only realized at the muzzle of a gun, so how much has really changed?  How unlike his dad could he even be?

The artwork is typical Gibbons, which is to say that it’s beautiful, clear and a joy to read.  Gibbons’ artwork does READ… instead of being an excuse for self-indulgence or random experimentation, Gibbons is a storytellers’ storyteller.  In a comic by this man, plainly-rendered does not equal boring.  There is enough detail and style and eye-candy to keep things electric and interesting but never at the expense of character and plot, which is an increasing rarity lately.  Gibbons, like Frank Quitely or Frank Miller, has a real taste for design and creation… the clothes and vehicles and general atmosphere of The Originals are a real work of art, creating a retro-future style that speaks to the 60’s Mod culture without being a direct ripoff.  Checkerboard suits, checkerboard skirts, skinny ties and other gorgeous touches are perfectly appropriate and are putting me in the mood to listen to the Kinks and the Jam (as if I’m ever not in that mood).  Speaking of The Jam, the first Dirt-vs-Originals dust-up is on Weller Street, which I thought was cute.

Rather than dated, The Originals is one of the most timeless comics available.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.  Pick this up.

- Dorian Peace


STUFF I DIG:  Pan’s Labyrinth dir. by Guillermo del Toro
I first discovered this movie in the strangest of places:  on Metacritic.  Being basically an arthouse movie and my being so out of touch with the movie scene in general, I don’t often hear about movies that don’t have a big, in-your-face advertising bonanza and rarely a foreign-language indie film but this stood out for a very obvious reason: it was the single most well-received and critically lauded film of 2006.  THAT made me stand up and take notice.
It’s definitely worthy of critical success.  It is the absolute rarest of things:  a wholly original fantasy film written and directed purposefully toward an intelligent audience… it puts the story and its world a priority above marketability and it’s so much better for it.  To be honest, I’ve never seen a movie like it.  It’s entirely unique in theme, execution, and tone.  It would probably be easy to misconstrue the “fairy tale for adults” label as a hip way of marketing an R-rated version of Little Red Riding Hood or something but this is completely legitimate, a very valid original story that threads elements of classical mythology into a modern (read: 20th century) world with very real modern elements at play and, surprisingly, it’s more seamless and organic than you’d think.
The story is about a little girl, Ofelia, whose family is caught up in the Spanish Civil War… her mother has re-married a Falangist fascist named Captain Vidal who has moved the girl and her now-pregnant mother to a new home.  Meanwhile, a fantasy world is missing a princess who has gone lost when she entered the material world.  The film’s titular faun knows that Ofelia is the reincarnation of this Princess Moanna and sends her on three trials to see if she’s worthy of reclaiming her crown.  The Captain is a cruel and sadistic husband and man in general and his domineering is weighing heavily on Ofelia’s mother who is ill and having labor complications.  Ofelia herself bungles one of the trials and the two stories begin to coalesce as the movie progresses.  The end of the film is bittersweet as some sort of karmic justice is achieved but not without consequence.
There are a couple things that really make this movie go above and beyond anything a more traditional and frankly, boring, filmmaker could have created: the brilliant use of allegory to talk sincerely about politics and the nature of violence and war and, secondly, a heartfelt examination of the difference between fantasy and material reality and how the two meet and have a relationship with one another (a trait shared by my all-time favorite book, Promethea, which I may discuss in-depth someday).
Ofelia relies on fantasy books to escape the harsh world of her war-torn nation.  To her, these worlds are much more “real” than the numbing lie that is her family life.  I find it interesting that it’s never specifically revealed if the entire experience with the faun and the labyrinth is happening to her or a product of her overactive imagination, manifesting a story that she read in an attempt to escape the nightmare of her material reality.  This material reality only intersects with her dream world in small, peripheral ways that would be easy to fabricate:  think of the Captain reaching under the bed to grab the mandrake.  This could have been any common plant, just placed there by Ofelia.  The chalk doorways could have been completely imagined.  None of it actually had to take place anywhere but in Ofelia’s head… this possible disconnect from the “real” narrative is fascinating to me because it implies that Ofelia’s imagination is so powerful, it need never have actually happened to still be her destiny.
If the audio commentary tracks are any indication, Guillermo del Toro is vocally against war and tries to thread allegory into his films, even Hellboy 2.  This is most obvious and powerful in The Devil’s Backbone and Pan’s Labyrinth, however.  That said, it’s not a heavy-handed partisanship but a thoughtful questioning of what was wrong with the Spanish Civil War to begin with.  The director seems to sympathize with the rebels hiding in the woods and fighting for their lives but, make no mistake, they are complicit in the violence as well.  The housekeeper, Mercedes, has to abandon her sworn allegiance to the Captain in order to help her brother and it’s extremely poignant and heart-breaking… making this certainly one of the best war movies you’ll see, an uncommon praise for a fantasy movie.  The violence displayed fascinates me because, unlike almost every war movie outside of Saving Private Ryan, the violence is always cold and harsh and disconnected from any sense of comic-booky fun.  This is the anti-Star Wars… instead of reveling in some kind of joyous burst of explosions and silly pow-pow-pow gunplay, every shot is a brutal hit to the viscera, a painful experience you don’t want to relive.  In that way, it’s one of the more honest films you’ll ever see.
It’s really shocking how much mileage this director can get out of a relatively small budget (relative to the astronomical budgets of most major films lately).  This movie has an absolutely amazing aesthetic that has, of late, characterized del Toro’s work.  If you can watch this movie alongside Hellboy 2 and also The Devil’s Backbone and NOT list Guillermo del Toro as one of the most noteworthy filmmakers currently working, you’re not paying attention and possibly blind (and you’re not Peter Jackson).  I’m particularly impressed by the use of practical effects as opposed to CGI.  CGI has its time and place and definitely isn’t unheard of in a move by this director but that we attempt to integrate entire CGI characters into live action movies is pretty absurd and only works very, very rarely.  The monsters you see in this movie are a dude in a suit and it couldn’t possibly be more impressive, visually speaking.  Del Toro is working with Doug Jones again, who is expert at an aspect of acting that often goes unnoticed or under-appreciated: creating a character entirely out of physical performance.  Movement, posture, and body language are essential aspects to any character and Jones is so gifted as a physical actor he makes you believe in these monsters… they are as valid and integral to the movie as any flesh-and-blood human.
Del Toro is also preoccupied with symbolism and the use of recurring motifs and color patterns as storytelling mechanisms.  Listening to the director’s audio commentary track will really open your eyes to how thoroughly this has all been thought-out… the phrase “color palette” is probably used a couple dozen times as the director explains how he creates mood and even subtle shading of characters using set pieces and color schemes.  Everything ties together and there is enough to absorb visually that a few viewings only help the experience.
This film hardly needs more promotion and I’m not really “getting the word out” on any movie that people haven’t seen but it’s really worth reiterating what makes this movie so stand-out.  It’s one of my all-time favorites (vying for the top spot, easily) and will almost definitely surprise you, move you and make you think in the chance you haven’t seen it yet and want to watch it for the first time.
- Dorian Peace

STUFF I DIGPan’s Labyrinth dir. by Guillermo del Toro

I first discovered this movie in the strangest of places:  on Metacritic.  Being basically an arthouse movie and my being so out of touch with the movie scene in general, I don’t often hear about movies that don’t have a big, in-your-face advertising bonanza and rarely a foreign-language indie film but this stood out for a very obvious reason: it was the single most well-received and critically lauded film of 2006.  THAT made me stand up and take notice.

It’s definitely worthy of critical success.  It is the absolute rarest of things:  a wholly original fantasy film written and directed purposefully toward an intelligent audience… it puts the story and its world a priority above marketability and it’s so much better for it.  To be honest, I’ve never seen a movie like it.  It’s entirely unique in theme, execution, and tone.  It would probably be easy to misconstrue the “fairy tale for adults” label as a hip way of marketing an R-rated version of Little Red Riding Hood or something but this is completely legitimate, a very valid original story that threads elements of classical mythology into a modern (read: 20th century) world with very real modern elements at play and, surprisingly, it’s more seamless and organic than you’d think.

The story is about a little girl, Ofelia, whose family is caught up in the Spanish Civil War… her mother has re-married a Falangist fascist named Captain Vidal who has moved the girl and her now-pregnant mother to a new home.  Meanwhile, a fantasy world is missing a princess who has gone lost when she entered the material world.  The film’s titular faun knows that Ofelia is the reincarnation of this Princess Moanna and sends her on three trials to see if she’s worthy of reclaiming her crown.  The Captain is a cruel and sadistic husband and man in general and his domineering is weighing heavily on Ofelia’s mother who is ill and having labor complications.  Ofelia herself bungles one of the trials and the two stories begin to coalesce as the movie progresses.  The end of the film is bittersweet as some sort of karmic justice is achieved but not without consequence.

There are a couple things that really make this movie go above and beyond anything a more traditional and frankly, boring, filmmaker could have created: the brilliant use of allegory to talk sincerely about politics and the nature of violence and war and, secondly, a heartfelt examination of the difference between fantasy and material reality and how the two meet and have a relationship with one another (a trait shared by my all-time favorite book, Promethea, which I may discuss in-depth someday).

Ofelia relies on fantasy books to escape the harsh world of her war-torn nation.  To her, these worlds are much more “real” than the numbing lie that is her family life.  I find it interesting that it’s never specifically revealed if the entire experience with the faun and the labyrinth is happening to her or a product of her overactive imagination, manifesting a story that she read in an attempt to escape the nightmare of her material reality.  This material reality only intersects with her dream world in small, peripheral ways that would be easy to fabricate:  think of the Captain reaching under the bed to grab the mandrake.  This could have been any common plant, just placed there by Ofelia.  The chalk doorways could have been completely imagined.  None of it actually had to take place anywhere but in Ofelia’s head… this possible disconnect from the “real” narrative is fascinating to me because it implies that Ofelia’s imagination is so powerful, it need never have actually happened to still be her destiny.

If the audio commentary tracks are any indication, Guillermo del Toro is vocally against war and tries to thread allegory into his films, even Hellboy 2.  This is most obvious and powerful in The Devil’s Backbone and Pan’s Labyrinth, however.  That said, it’s not a heavy-handed partisanship but a thoughtful questioning of what was wrong with the Spanish Civil War to begin with.  The director seems to sympathize with the rebels hiding in the woods and fighting for their lives but, make no mistake, they are complicit in the violence as well.  The housekeeper, Mercedes, has to abandon her sworn allegiance to the Captain in order to help her brother and it’s extremely poignant and heart-breaking… making this certainly one of the best war movies you’ll see, an uncommon praise for a fantasy movie.  The violence displayed fascinates me because, unlike almost every war movie outside of Saving Private Ryan, the violence is always cold and harsh and disconnected from any sense of comic-booky fun.  This is the anti-Star Wars… instead of reveling in some kind of joyous burst of explosions and silly pow-pow-pow gunplay, every shot is a brutal hit to the viscera, a painful experience you don’t want to relive.  In that way, it’s one of the more honest films you’ll ever see.

It’s really shocking how much mileage this director can get out of a relatively small budget (relative to the astronomical budgets of most major films lately).  This movie has an absolutely amazing aesthetic that has, of late, characterized del Toro’s work.  If you can watch this movie alongside Hellboy 2 and also The Devil’s Backbone and NOT list Guillermo del Toro as one of the most noteworthy filmmakers currently working, you’re not paying attention and possibly blind (and you’re not Peter Jackson).  I’m particularly impressed by the use of practical effects as opposed to CGI.  CGI has its time and place and definitely isn’t unheard of in a move by this director but that we attempt to integrate entire CGI characters into live action movies is pretty absurd and only works very, very rarely.  The monsters you see in this movie are a dude in a suit and it couldn’t possibly be more impressive, visually speaking.  Del Toro is working with Doug Jones again, who is expert at an aspect of acting that often goes unnoticed or under-appreciated: creating a character entirely out of physical performance.  Movement, posture, and body language are essential aspects to any character and Jones is so gifted as a physical actor he makes you believe in these monsters… they are as valid and integral to the movie as any flesh-and-blood human.

Del Toro is also preoccupied with symbolism and the use of recurring motifs and color patterns as storytelling mechanisms.  Listening to the director’s audio commentary track will really open your eyes to how thoroughly this has all been thought-out… the phrase “color palette” is probably used a couple dozen times as the director explains how he creates mood and even subtle shading of characters using set pieces and color schemes.  Everything ties together and there is enough to absorb visually that a few viewings only help the experience.

This film hardly needs more promotion and I’m not really “getting the word out” on any movie that people haven’t seen but it’s really worth reiterating what makes this movie so stand-out.  It’s one of my all-time favorites (vying for the top spot, easily) and will almost definitely surprise you, move you and make you think in the chance you haven’t seen it yet and want to watch it for the first time.

- Dorian Peace


cover art by Tom Scioli

cover art by Tom Scioli

interior art by Tom Scioli

interior art by Tom Scioli

interior art by Tom Scioli

interior art by Tom Scioli

interior art by Tom Scioli

interior art by Tom Scioli

STUFF I DIGGødland Volume 1: Hello, Cosmic! written by Joe Casey with art by Tom Scioli

Published by Image Comics

First, a brief apology.  I always prefer that the stuff I review and recommend be purchased in a single volume, stand-alone format just for the ease of recommending it to anyone who doesn’t want to dive headlong into a lengthy, ongoing series.  But, unfortunately, I have to disobey my own rule and talk about comics that are part of a larger saga.  Gødland is a creator-owned sci-fi/superhero/pop-culture-oddity that took off in 2005 and was immediately received as one of the most brilliant and unique new comics published in recent years and yet remains criminally under-read, at least in my own opinion.  Featuring artwork by Tom Scioli and a script written by Joe Casey, the series has been collected in a string of trade paperback volumes, the first of which, Hello, Cosmic! I’ll discuss now.

The reason this book stands as such an anomaly in today’s comic book marketplace is that it refuses to be hamstrung by the ridiculous notion that comics need to be more “realistic,” a term that usually equates to bland attempts at primetime melodrama.  In its wild abandon, Gødland actually shares the thematic qualities and general vibe of the classic Silver Age DC and Marvel comics that fused the superhero genre with cosmic fantasy in a way that reverberates with pop-culture junkies to this day.  Just pick it up and notice the way the art, dialogue and characterization feel retro and futuristic at the same time and you’ll see what I mean.  This is weird, trippy, mid-to-late twentieth century pop art at its finest while at the same time reinventing that mode for a twenty first century audience.

The story of Gødland is exactly as bizarre as you’d love it to be.  Adam Archer is an astronaut who crashed on Mars four years ago and stumbled upon a strange alien collective, a cosmic godhead who grants him superpowers in an attempt to push humanity to the next stages of evolution.  Upon returning home, Archer is co-opted by the US Government, given a home in a Manhattan skyscraper/scientific testing facility and put to work saving mankind, along with his three sisters, Stella, the cold and calculating group mastermind, Neela, an enterprising cosmonaut more than a little jealous of her brother and Angie, a shiftless punk rock layabout.

Hello, Cosmic! introduces the cast and backstory by way of flashbacks and character moments that are interwoven into the current stories which are, frankly, utterly demented.  In our opening story, a peace-seeking interplanetary alien named Maxim who is on an exploratory mission crashes into the Great Wall of China and is subsequently kidnapped by Basil Cronus, a comic book villain in the purest sense who needs Maxim’s blood to capture the ultimate high.  A head (in the figurative sense, a drug addict, in the literal sense, a sentient skull floating in a jar affixed to a cybernetic body) interested only in hallucinogenic mind expansion, Cronus is ultimately undone and winds up in the clutches of a rival supervillain.  Maxim, who possesses some greater knowledge of the universe and Archer’s connection to the evolutionary hive-mind that created him, takes up residence in the team’s Manhattan skyscraper and promises to figure prominently in the future.

The second story centers around Neela’s attempt to rescue a captured superhero character named Crashman from the clutches of a sadistic torture-terrorist who, upon being captured, is subject to a media-scrutinized trial.  These stories are truly the stuff of capital-C capital-B Comic Books and not a paper-and-ink version of a standard Jerry Bruckheimer action movie.  At no point are we left with the feeling that Gødland wants to be anything other than what it is.  Yes, pop culture references abound but it doesn’t feel like a desperate attempt to be a pitch for a Michael Bay flick.

No, Gødland is refreshingly absurd, fun and somewhat thought-provoking all at the same, which is what good comics should be.  Comics should also be cool and confident enough in their own gleeful lunacy to merit the rockstar strut that seems somehow always born into Casey’s scripts.  Casey is one the few American comic book writers (I count Gerard Way and Matt Fraction in this group as well) who sees a bold new vision for superhero comics that lies in reinventing the imaginative, four-color insanity of the Jack Kirby era and injecting it with new, yet-more-fucked-up goodness.

Speaking of Kirby, we have to talk about Kirby.  Everyone who reads or reviews this comic has to make mention of the fact that the script bears a striking similarity to the King’s now-classic Marvel stories, or, to be even more appropriate, his Fourth World cycle from DC.  In terms of dialogue, characterization and pacing, yes, this is true.  Also must be made mention is the fact that the ART bears EVEN MORE of a striking similarity to Kirby’s now-classic oeuvre, with the blocky but artfully nuanced characters, heavy black linework, chunky, blocky sci-fi costumes, vivid colors and the ubiquitous “Kirby Krackle” the energy dots that are found throughout.  So, yes, compare it to Kirby.  My question: Since when is that a bad thing?

For starters, these guys do enough to distinguish themselves from Kirby that you could never call it a rip-off.  Beautifully executed homage, yes, but not a rip-off.  This is firmly set in our modern world, or a hyper-surrealistic derivation thereof, and not Kirby’s 1960’s.  There is a general twenty first century edge that makes it slightly less wholesome than any of Kirby’s creations. Secondly, nobody else is doing Kirby comics and if they are, I promise it’s not with such style, intelligence and general aplomb.   The comic book market NEEEEDS this shit like a drought needs a rainstorm so I welcome it with open arms.  Joe Casey himself once said that he views Kirby as his own genre, which is a brilliant and entirely correct thing to say, not to mention a fantastic fucking angle from which to approach the art of comic book creation.

One of the things that Kirby seemed focused on, that we all seem focused on, that is probably the most central theme for good, “big-picture” fiction, is the notion of human evolution.  The thing that elevates this comic from merely a genuinely fun read to something with depth and tremendous potential is the same thing that elevated the classic Silver Age comics to the same status: its preoccupation with mankind’s place in the cosmos and how we’re arriving.  Adam Archer has been granted the gift of superhumanity and he’s not sure how or why.  Through the wise and peace-seeking character of Maxim, we are introduced to the concept of a universal space-god called Iboga who will almost certainly turn out to be the crux of the story entire.  Iboga is also the name of a rainforest-grown hallucinogen.  The concept of expanding one’s consciousness through drugs is also embodied by the super-junkie Basil Cronus who has lost his way more than a little bit.  These threads seem to be leading to a much larger statement that also incorporates the idea of a collective subconsciousness, as represented by the alien hive-mind Archer first met four years prior to the opening of the book.

Gødland, simply put, sums up the reasons to read comics at all.  It’s weird, cool, funny, surprising, high-minded yet accessible, goofy, enjoyable, smart, and stylish all at the same time.  This, like the very best comics, is something that you either get, in which case you love the fuck out of it, or you don’t, in which case you’re probably not cool enough to.  Gødland is just one of those tasty pop-culture masterpieces that we need more of and, in these twenty first century days of the dark and brooding zeitgeist, I’m glad to have any of at all.

Do pick it up.

- Dorian Peace

Also, if you’re interested in Joe Casey’s thoughts on comics in general, I highly recommend The Basement Tapes, a column he and Matt Fraction wrote between July 2004 and December 2005 for Comic Book Resources, as well as THIS INTERVIEW with Tom Spurgeon and THIS INTERVIEW with Jonathan Ellis.  He is a fascinating guy.


STUFF I DIG:  Batman: Gothic by Grant Morrison and Klaus Janson
Published by DC Comics
I haven’t reviewed a Batman comic… or a Grant Morrison comic… or anything creepy and therefore Halloween related so now is the perfect time to talk about Gothic, one of my favorite Batman stories and definitely one of the more underrated.
Originally published as a five-issue story arc in Legends of the Dark Knight way back in 1990, this represents one of Morrison’s earliest Batman stories, next to the masterful and bizarre Arkham Asylum, of course.  Unlike the very high-concept Arkham, Gothic is designed to be a slightly more straightforward and traditional Batman story.  That doesn’t mean, however, it’s lacking any of the layers and twists typically categorizing Morrison’s writing.
The story begins with a mysterious serial killer offing Gotham City’s mob bosses.  Gangsters are being knocked off and when Batman goes to intercept this decidedly unusual serial murderer first-hand he recognizes him as one of Bruce Wayne’s schoolmasters from his private school days.  Making the situation even creepier is that he hasn’t aged in the decades since he last saw him.  The supernatural continues to be intertwined into the story as Batman digs into this character’s past, learning of his connection to an Austrian cult that traces its roots back to the era of the Black Plague and a Satanic pact that… I can’t give everything away but it’s the kind of surreal page-turner that layers abstract weirdness into what would be a standard mystery, were it written by a more boring writer.
Speaking of the writer, I have to say that Gothic struck me as the most Gaiman-esque story NOT written by Gaiman himself.  If it didn’t have Morrison’s name on the cover, I’d have guessed it was penned by Neil himself.  The story’s mix of modern characters and setting with romantic themes and literary styles, the suggestion of magic and the supernatural, the plot revolving around arcane history - a plot better appreciated by people who read books from musty library stacks instead of four-color superhero books, the American urban life that seems just a degree off, being written by a European, an obvious love for natural beauty and poetry (again, both links to Romanticism) and a distinctly 80’s flavor embodied by distinctly 80’s artwork done by a true master of the sketchy, inky style - Klaus Janson.  ALL of these traits are typically characteristic of Gaiman and in abundance in this very literate and well-written Batman comic.
There are other qualities that remind me of Gaiman, as well.  The villain being a creepy schoolmaster and the twist ending being the Mephistopheles to Mr. Whisper’s Faust is a cute girl seem Gaiman-esque.  What’s my point?  I’m not saying that Morrison was attempting a Gaiman tone or that either is better or worse than the other.  I’m just noticing tonal and thematic qualities for the purpose of this recommendation.  While I’m on the topic, dreams play a heavy role and so does that hazy in-between time in life known as adolescence - both themes characteristic of Neil.
The art, as I mentioned above, feels a bit dated and of its era but that’s not a bad thing if you’re as much a fan of the late 80’s, early 90’s Veritgo “house-style” as I am.  A dark, inky, scratchy, Miller-inspired tone is the order of the day in this book and Janson is really adept at it.  The characters and locales are conveyed beautifully, the story never being hindered by an overabundance of clutter or on-panel detritus.  This is the style that would eventually be termed “gritty” before such a thing was cliche.  It’s used to really good effect here, every panel looking sharp and eminently readable which was probably a great break from whatever Marvel was publishing that same year.
Although, as I mentioned before, this really isn’t Morrison’s signature work, as it doesn’t do as good a job as, let’s say, Doom Patrol at capturing Morrison’s trademark qualities and themes, it is a really smart and well thought-out Batman story that is truly entertaining and surprising when it’s harder and harder to do that with a character that has seen so many stories published over the years.  It’s a nice representation of the transition Grant Morrison made from British comics to American superhero work.  The title is also well-earned as it reiterates a lot of standard themes associated with Gothic horror, including the Faustian bargain with the devil, nod to Gnostic magic, and an obsession with the past.
Available as a newly re-released cheap and quick trade paperback, this is a great Halloween read, also.
- Dorian Peace

STUFF I DIGBatman: Gothic by Grant Morrison and Klaus Janson

Published by DC Comics

I haven’t reviewed a Batman comic… or a Grant Morrison comic… or anything creepy and therefore Halloween related so now is the perfect time to talk about Gothic, one of my favorite Batman stories and definitely one of the more underrated.

Originally published as a five-issue story arc in Legends of the Dark Knight way back in 1990, this represents one of Morrison’s earliest Batman stories, next to the masterful and bizarre Arkham Asylum, of course.  Unlike the very high-concept Arkham, Gothic is designed to be a slightly more straightforward and traditional Batman story.  That doesn’t mean, however, it’s lacking any of the layers and twists typically categorizing Morrison’s writing.

The story begins with a mysterious serial killer offing Gotham City’s mob bosses.  Gangsters are being knocked off and when Batman goes to intercept this decidedly unusual serial murderer first-hand he recognizes him as one of Bruce Wayne’s schoolmasters from his private school days.  Making the situation even creepier is that he hasn’t aged in the decades since he last saw him.  The supernatural continues to be intertwined into the story as Batman digs into this character’s past, learning of his connection to an Austrian cult that traces its roots back to the era of the Black Plague and a Satanic pact that… I can’t give everything away but it’s the kind of surreal page-turner that layers abstract weirdness into what would be a standard mystery, were it written by a more boring writer.

Speaking of the writer, I have to say that Gothic struck me as the most Gaiman-esque story NOT written by Gaiman himself.  If it didn’t have Morrison’s name on the cover, I’d have guessed it was penned by Neil himself.  The story’s mix of modern characters and setting with romantic themes and literary styles, the suggestion of magic and the supernatural, the plot revolving around arcane history - a plot better appreciated by people who read books from musty library stacks instead of four-color superhero books, the American urban life that seems just a degree off, being written by a European, an obvious love for natural beauty and poetry (again, both links to Romanticism) and a distinctly 80’s flavor embodied by distinctly 80’s artwork done by a true master of the sketchy, inky style - Klaus Janson.  ALL of these traits are typically characteristic of Gaiman and in abundance in this very literate and well-written Batman comic.

There are other qualities that remind me of Gaiman, as well.  The villain being a creepy schoolmaster and the twist ending being the Mephistopheles to Mr. Whisper’s Faust is a cute girl seem Gaiman-esque.  What’s my point?  I’m not saying that Morrison was attempting a Gaiman tone or that either is better or worse than the other.  I’m just noticing tonal and thematic qualities for the purpose of this recommendation.  While I’m on the topic, dreams play a heavy role and so does that hazy in-between time in life known as adolescence - both themes characteristic of Neil.

The art, as I mentioned above, feels a bit dated and of its era but that’s not a bad thing if you’re as much a fan of the late 80’s, early 90’s Veritgo “house-style” as I am.  A dark, inky, scratchy, Miller-inspired tone is the order of the day in this book and Janson is really adept at it.  The characters and locales are conveyed beautifully, the story never being hindered by an overabundance of clutter or on-panel detritus.  This is the style that would eventually be termed “gritty” before such a thing was cliche.  It’s used to really good effect here, every panel looking sharp and eminently readable which was probably a great break from whatever Marvel was publishing that same year.

Although, as I mentioned before, this really isn’t Morrison’s signature work, as it doesn’t do as good a job as, let’s say, Doom Patrol at capturing Morrison’s trademark qualities and themes, it is a really smart and well thought-out Batman story that is truly entertaining and surprising when it’s harder and harder to do that with a character that has seen so many stories published over the years.  It’s a nice representation of the transition Grant Morrison made from British comics to American superhero work.  The title is also well-earned as it reiterates a lot of standard themes associated with Gothic horror, including the Faustian bargain with the devil, nod to Gnostic magic, and an obsession with the past.

Available as a newly re-released cheap and quick trade paperback, this is a great Halloween read, also.

- Dorian Peace


STUFF I DIG:  Grey Britain by Gallows
Sire/Reprise/Warner Bros.
Holy hell, this band blows my mind.  This is almost definitely the most raw punk rock record since… I don’t know, an entire generation, almost certainly.  The very valid criticism that punk rock or whatever passes for punk rock these days has become a toothless, watered-down, mainstream corporate shadow of the original class of ‘77 does not apply to this band.
When their first record was released on Epitaph, Mr. Brett himself raved about how they’re the saviors of nasty, balls-out punk and he’s not wrong.  The music here is an absolutely brutal assault of guitars, bass, and drum with occasional keys for creepy effect.  The vocals are a scorched, harsh wail of agony delivered with the most gloriously distinctive British accent imaginable.  The lyrics are like nothing the current generation of parentally-approved pop-punk mallrats could envision in their darkest nightmares - an absolutely hideous stream-of-consciousness conjuring images of plague-bearing vermin, rivers of blood, and biblical apocalypse.
I’m told in reviews that this is a “concept album” and that there is some sort of connecting theme or narrative but I didn’t even notice, too thoroughly bowled over by sheer intensity.  Every second is bathed in inky black nihilism that has me thinking Gallows is like some sort of 21st century version of the Sex Pistols.  Who has been that punk since?  There are moments when I question if they haven’t out-Pistoled the Pistols, they’re actually that over-the-top.  And, of course, the intensity is married to strong melodic hooks in the way that makes punk so much more insidious and so much better than metal.
Christ on a crutch, did I mention the lyrics?
“London Is The Reason” gives us arguably the punkest chorus I’ve ever heard in one of the punkest songs I’ve ever heard:
We are the rats and we run this town / We are the black plague bearing down / We have no fear and we have no pity / We hate you and we hate this city /
How fucking perfect is that?  So simple - the bare essence of punk distilled in four lines with pitch-perfect malice and intensity.
More venom:
Every mistake you ever made / The bodies you thought would never need graves / They pave the gutters of London Towne / Until the streets become a feeding ground /  London is the reason / The river Thames is running dry / The bodies have been piled high / All the corpses up on the shore / We’ll drag them out because they’re yours
London is the reason / When it burns down, we’ll be tried for treason
You can read between the lines and see political indictment, the death and rebirth of Britannia seem to be the album’s chief theme but why bother?  This is just unfettered aggression and saddling it with analysis feels artificial and in complete contrast with the real point of this record.
Too cheery for you?  “Death Voices” is a vivid homage to the End Times:
Drag your crosses through the ground / Throw the carcass to the hounds / The ship we wrecked is going down / The river is a bitch and tonight she howls
Remember me as you pass by / As you are now, so once was I / As I am now, so you will be / Prepare for death and follow me
Four nails, four corners / Four riders, four horses / Bring me famine, bring me death / Bring me war & pestilence 
Throw your fists into the ground / Beat by beat as the blows rain down / This is a cold, grey world we’ve made ourselves / The bed we’ve made is a grave in hell
The sky tears open and it pours with blood / The moon turns red and the streets will flood / Dig out your casket and fill it with stone / This is the end of the world and we are bringing it home
Sorry for indulging my inner 15-year-old but it’s pretty rare that a band so thoroughly overwhelms me with force that I forsake any other criteria for liking them, but Gallows is just the essence of punk, never mind the bollocks.
- Dorian Peace

STUFF I DIGGrey Britain by Gallows

Sire/Reprise/Warner Bros.

Holy hell, this band blows my mind.  This is almost definitely the most raw punk rock record since… I don’t know, an entire generation, almost certainly.  The very valid criticism that punk rock or whatever passes for punk rock these days has become a toothless, watered-down, mainstream corporate shadow of the original class of ‘77 does not apply to this band.

When their first record was released on Epitaph, Mr. Brett himself raved about how they’re the saviors of nasty, balls-out punk and he’s not wrong.  The music here is an absolutely brutal assault of guitars, bass, and drum with occasional keys for creepy effect.  The vocals are a scorched, harsh wail of agony delivered with the most gloriously distinctive British accent imaginable.  The lyrics are like nothing the current generation of parentally-approved pop-punk mallrats could envision in their darkest nightmares - an absolutely hideous stream-of-consciousness conjuring images of plague-bearing vermin, rivers of blood, and biblical apocalypse.

I’m told in reviews that this is a “concept album” and that there is some sort of connecting theme or narrative but I didn’t even notice, too thoroughly bowled over by sheer intensity.  Every second is bathed in inky black nihilism that has me thinking Gallows is like some sort of 21st century version of the Sex Pistols.  Who has been that punk since?  There are moments when I question if they haven’t out-Pistoled the Pistols, they’re actually that over-the-top.  And, of course, the intensity is married to strong melodic hooks in the way that makes punk so much more insidious and so much better than metal.

Christ on a crutch, did I mention the lyrics?

“London Is The Reason” gives us arguably the punkest chorus I’ve ever heard in one of the punkest songs I’ve ever heard:

We are the rats and we run this town / We are the black plague bearing down / We have no fear and we have no pity / We hate you and we hate this city /

How fucking perfect is that?  So simple - the bare essence of punk distilled in four lines with pitch-perfect malice and intensity.

More venom:

Every mistake you ever made / The bodies you thought would never need graves / They pave the gutters of London Towne / Until the streets become a feeding ground /  London is the reason / The river Thames is running dry / The bodies have been piled high / All the corpses up on the shore / We’ll drag them out because they’re yours

London is the reason / When it burns down, we’ll be tried for treason

You can read between the lines and see political indictment, the death and rebirth of Britannia seem to be the album’s chief theme but why bother?  This is just unfettered aggression and saddling it with analysis feels artificial and in complete contrast with the real point of this record.

Too cheery for you?  “Death Voices” is a vivid homage to the End Times:

Drag your crosses through the ground / Throw the carcass to the hounds / The ship we wrecked is going down / The river is a bitch and tonight she howls

Remember me as you pass by / As you are now, so once was I / As I am now, so you will be / Prepare for death and follow me

Four nails, four corners / Four riders, four horses / Bring me famine, bring me death / Bring me war & pestilence

Throw your fists into the ground / Beat by beat as the blows rain down / This is a cold, grey world we’ve made ourselves / The bed we’ve made is a grave in hell

The sky tears open and it pours with blood / The moon turns red and the streets will flood / Dig out your casket and fill it with stone / This is the end of the world and we are bringing it home

Sorry for indulging my inner 15-year-old but it’s pretty rare that a band so thoroughly overwhelms me with force that I forsake any other criteria for liking them, but Gallows is just the essence of punk, never mind the bollocks.

- Dorian Peace