Ta Ta For Now

Dear Imaginary Reader:

I don't know who Atus is, but time to welcome him. Hi, Atus!



There's a few good reasons and perhaps the easiest to understand is that I am moving and my life is bound to be in total disarray for a while. The second is that I was thinking about the Smashing Pumpkins, which I used to quite enjoy in high school. I remember watching their last network TV performance before (first) break-up, perhaps on Leno or Letterman. After a typically perfunctory show, they were presented with action figures of themselves as a goodbye gift, and Billy Corgan, looking at his plastic miniature rocking self, quietly said: "He looks like he's having a lot more fun than I am."

Well, yeah. If there was an action figure of me blogging away excitedly, I might have to look at it and say: "He looks like he's having more fun than I am." I need to re-charge.

"2020 Visions" - Jamie Delano

When writing your visionary sci-fi dystopias, always make sure to put them at least 50 years in the future. If you've got marauding rape-robots roaming the streets of New Neon York in 2013, you've also got a story that's embarrassingly dated before the paperback even comes out. Not that there's much embarrassing in Jamie Delano's quartet of future tales, "2020 Visions": if some of these possibilities already seem shut off, no one said comics had to be prophecies. Delano, best known for his work on "Hellblazer" and "Animal Man," can over-bake his prose a little, but the sheer range of invention in display here is as intoxicating as the viral disease that threatens Manhattan in the opening (and best) story. Frank Quitely, Warren Pleece, James Romberger and Steve Pugh each illustrate a story. Warning: the collected edition available for purchase is in b&w instead of the original mood-setting colors, which is an ugly shame.

"Restrepo" - Sebastian Junger and Tim Hetherington

In "Restrepo," you never see where the shooting is coming from. It falls down from the Afghan mountains that surround the Korengal Valley, where American soldiers have built the titular military outpost. The men, (kids, really, some with pimples in their haunted, startlingly young faces) might as well be fighting ghosts.



Sebastian Junger (perhaps best known for his best-sellers "War" and "The Perfect Storm") and director Tim Hetherington (who was recently killed while covering Lybian conflict) spent most of a year embedded with a platoon in Afghanistan, reporting for Vanity Fair. What emerged is a document that puts you as close as you'll ever want to be to the sheer confusion of fighting against foes you can't even find, for a cause you can't quite articulate. Junger and Hetherington make an apolitical film, (thank God): the futility of the soldiers' efforts need no commentary. You'll never figure out WHAT they're trying to accomplish from their missions. The best answer is they're trying to stay alive while being constantly shot at. No, you don't get the side of the valley villagers, that's beyond the scope of the camera for reasons that should be obvious: if you can't supply your own context, that's a failure of your education and/or imagination. And yes, you may want to sneer at the soldiers and their naive talk of "bad guys" and "revenge" and "making them pay," but again, these are kids, not political philosophers; they say exactly what you would say in their situation- if you were daring or foolish enough to ever wind up where they are. "Restrepo" collected plenty of awards and adulation during its initial release, and although it's hardly DRAMATIC or COOL-LOOKING- why isn't war like in the movies?- it's a GO WATCH NOW film, if only because you need to know what it's like to be caught in an ambush. After you see these tough men, the toughest you'll meet, break down in hysterics at the sight of their fallen comrade, you'll appreciate their sacrifice anew and hate war all the more. Whatever you feel about the absurdity of our war machinery, never forget that soldiers are not machines, but human beings. And, frankly, much braver than you or me.

Girls - "Father, Son, Holy Ghost"

One of the many reasons I avoid in-depth music reviews, (area where I freely admit my worthlessness) is because I think that, for me, time is more of a factor in music than in any other artistic field. I react to a movie as I watch it, to a book as I read it, to a painting as I crane my neck before it; a short while after I'm done, I've processed enough to speak about it with some authority. Music moves in a bigger stretch of time for me, though. The first time I hear a piece of music I rarely even HEAR it; even when it becomes a friend after repeated encounters, it's still not enough. As with any relationship, it takes some years to see what is truly worthy, to separate a party-time infatuation from true company or consolation. I say this because at the time Girls' "Album" came out and I wrote about it, I liked it fine, what with its "Beach Boys gone fuzzy from pills" aesthetic, but it is only NOW, years later, that I can listen to it and be transported to the fall of 2009, and feel truly moved by it. I wasn't nostalgic before, see? But memories have stuck to it, like fuzz sticking to a lollipop left neglected under a couch. You lick that lollipop, it's a much messier experience. This song means things now it didn't mean then.



In other words, maybe two years from now I can honestly talk about what their full-length follow-up, "Father, Son, Holy Ghost" REALLY means to me. (But by then, who cares?) First impression is that "FSHG," like a summer romance, is best at its simplest, and at its most awkward when it tries too hard. While I gather my thoughts, enjoy "Honey Bunny" (simple) and Vomit" (tries hard.)

"X-Men: First Class" - Matthew Vaughn

I kid myself I'm a grown-up. Then something like "X-Men: First Class" comes along and if you're unfortunate enough to watch it with me you'll be exposed to this kind of excited patter:

"Well, see, Mystique (Jennifer Lawrence)? And Azazel? That bad guy that looks like the Devil? They're Nightcrawler's parents! And hehehe, Moira McTaggart (Rose Byrne)? She's not REALLY with the CIA! She's a geneticist! Are they smoking crack? However, she was TOTALLY married to Xavier (James McAvoy)! But in the Ultimates continuity, so I'm not sure if they're going to pursue that. Oh, look it's the kid from 'Skins' playing Beast! And, ugh, January Jones as Emma Frost? I guess January Jones does sound like a super-heroine with the power to be really cold in bed. Oh, man, this is sooooo awesome! Magneto (Michael Fassbender) is going to Cuba! Hmmm, I'm not sure I truly believe in Banshee's flying system, it seems to me like he would have to be screaming a lot more consistently to bounce off his sonic waves. Alex Summers is actually Cyclops' older brother, it's odd that they don't really hint at it. Hmmm, HELLOOOO, everyone knows Xavier is crippled by Lucifer! This is NOT how it happens! Hey, Kevin Bacon as Sebastian Shaw? *snort snort* I guess now we can play Six Degrees with the Marvel Universe!"

Usually around that point someone just shoots me in the stomach hoping to cause a painful demise.



X-MEN TO THE X-TREME! BEST X-MEN MOVIE EVAH!

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Here's a cute picture of Rose Byrne because why not?

"Air" - G. Willow Wilson and M. K. Perker

ABOVE: Here is flighty Blythe, unable to decide if it's day or night. That's not the only thing she'll be indecisive about.

Blythe is a stewardess who's afraid of heights. Wrong profession for someone who's afraid of heights, you may think. Maybe, but Blythe is completely nuts. It's a very reasonable fear considering a group of vigilantes calling themselves the Etesians are trying to save the post-9/11 skies from terrorists... by indulging in some high-altitude violence all their own.

It was not love at first flight for me and G. Willow Wilson's series "Air." The plot, as it first revealed itself, played like a mile-high-club Harlequin roamnce with some "Lost" ambitions. While the Etesians trade cryptic gang signs and talk of an all-powerful "device" that can CHANGE EVERYTHING, Blythe is busy falling for a tall, dark, handsome and possible terrorist-y stranger called Zayn. Because nothing is easy for today's empowered heroines, we know Blythe is not really going to hook up with Zayn for good until the tale ends spinning, Instead we're treated to endless bouts of pouting and whining and moaning, endless games of "I Love You I Love You Not," all suggesting Blythe has serious mental issues. A typical page of "Air" goes like this:

Panel #1: Blythe leans against Zayn's manly, protective chest. She says: "It feels so good here. It feels like home."
Panel #2: Suddenly she pushes away from him : "But that's what you want, isn't it? To barge in my life and act like we belong together and everything is fine?"
Panel #3: Just as suddenly she kisses him: "And yet... I DO feel everything is wonderful when I'm with you."
Panel #4: Now she slaps him: "No! NO! You think it can all be fixed with your sweet kisses? It's all over between us!" (She runs off in tears.)
Panel #5: Zayn (scratches his head) "What the...? I should have taken that 'Archie Comics' gig instead."

Bitches be crazy, but Blythe is riding first class on the crazy plane.


ABOVE: Here be the corpses of all the relationships Blythe has killed with the sheer power of her deadly mood swings.

But as it happens, "Air" gets considerably better in latter issues. True, most of the characters remain one-note, while Blythe has so many notes she might as well be a neurotic symphony, but eventually I fell for an inventive story that reminded me of Alan Moore's "Promethea." "Air" has myth, history, (New Agey) philosophy, and a pretty good answer to the question: "Whatever DID happen to Amelia Earhart"? If only artist M. K. Perker had been a little better at drawing airplanes, and G. Willow Wilson a little less indulgent of her character's bipolar tantrums, the series might not have been cancelled after only 24 issues.


ABOVE: Here is Blythe, finally put away in a nice room with cloudy padded walls.

"You Make Me Real" - Brandt Brauer Frick

Brandt Brauer Frick is not a law firm, but a German trio of music geeks who try to push John Cage into the dance floor. Their debut, "You Make Me Real," takes organic orchestra sounds and tries to adapt them to a club setting: minimalism is in the house. Does it work? Not for rug-cutters, but if you need heavy, hypnotic, authentic instrumentals for your headphones, try a track like "Bop."

"Duets II" - Tony Bennett

Tony Bennett is so awesome. 98 and STILL putting absolutely no effort into his "Duets" albums.



Tony: "What's that? Lady Gagger collaboration? Sure, why not? Swell gal, swell gal. Judy's great-grand-daughter or something, right? Does the broad know 'The Lady is a Tramp"? We'll do that."
Producer: "Tony, that may be a little on the nose."
Tony: "I'll tell you what's on the nose!!!" *takes sudden power nap that lasts three days.*

"Bridesmaids" - Paul Feig

Oh hey, look! It's "Bridesmaids"! The courageous feminist movie manifesto! The one that was boldly going to establish a woman's equal rights to shitting on screen!

Kristen Wiig is the "quirky if you're feeling kind/ irredeemable selfish if you're feeling mean" Annie. Annie's bakery business has crumbled and she's feeling less than appreciated by her sex-buddy (a breezy cad played by Jon Hamm, in a role that I swear must have been written for Paul Rudd.) To top off her misfortunes, her best friend Lillian, (Maya Rudolph) is getting HAPPILY MARRIED leaving her alone to singledom! Lillian has even gotten a new biffle in hyper-perfect Helen (Rose Byrne, purty as usual). Naturally, Annie can barely contain her need to murder Helen and Lillian and take a dump on top of the wedding cake. Instead she lets her self-involvement subtly sabotage her relationships, (including a love affair with a cop played by Chris O'Dowd from "The IT Crowd.")



Paul Feig's (and Judd Apatow's, I suppose) "Bridesmaids" is the answer to years of people complaining their movies never passed the Bechdel Test, (you know, the one that says that movies were written by rapists unless they contain two women attending a lesbian film festival without male accompaniment.)*

"Bridesmaids" passes the test in that the cast is heavily female and the male characters are unimportant at best, and at worst reduced to the male version of the Madonna/Whore complex (which I hereby baptize as either the Eunuch/Stud Complex, the Harmless Puppy/Rabid Dog Complex, or the Long-Suffering-Borderline-Gay-Guy/The-Asshole-who-Gets-All-the-Girls Complex. You pick the catchiest one.)

Unfortunately, it fails the test in that the leads are STILL largely basing their happiness on how a MAN makes them feel, and being absolute c-words to each other. It's about bitchy bridesmaids at a WEDDING! This is NOT "The Hangover" for women. It's "27 Dresses" for women who appreciate a good vomit joke.

So now that I said all that boring "social significance" bull Universal Studios paid me to say: was "Bridesmaids" funny? I sure thought so, particularly for Melissa McCarthy's movie-stealing performance.



It was about 40 minutes too long, though. It used to be comedies knew their place: barefoot, pregnant, in the kitchen, and lasting no longer than an hour and a half. Two hours was for serious dramas. Anything longer than that had better be a historical epic described with the words "lavish" and "sprawling." "Bridesmaids" is nearly 2 hours and a half and yet it is not, as far as I can tell, about the Holocaust or the Fall of the Roman Empire. Faux pas.

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*KIDDING, KIDDING, menstruating monsters! Put the claws away! I love Alison Bechdel! I was a huge fan of "Dykes to Watch Out For" even before I realized I wasn't technically a dyke! "Fun Home" is one of my top 10 graphic novels all time! Ok, fine, top 50.



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Here's a cute picture of Rose Byrne because why not?

"Paul" - Greg Mottola

"E.T." was lacking in dick jokes. "Alien" was lacking in Jason Bateman cameos. We can all agree on this.



What we can't agree on is "Paul." Greg Mottola's first-contact parody has the dick jokes and the Jason Bateman, (and the contributions of funny types like Bill Hader, Joe Lo Truglio, Kirsten Wiig and Jane Lynch) but it's lacking on effort: this is a rusty spaceship lazily landing with a thud. Simon Pegg and Nick Frost, (now practically symbiotic) are Brits on a sci-fi, Comic-Con inspired road trip through America's UFO hot spots. Soon enough they run into an obnoxiously familiar alien voiced by Seth Rogen, (obnoxious/Set Rogen... I know, I'm being redundant.) Half as uproarious as the Simon Pegg/Nick Frost/Edgar Wright comedies, ("Shaun of the Dead" and "Hot Fuzz"), half as genuine as Mottola's own movies ("Adventureland" and "Superbad"), "Paul" just checks off alien cliches to mock: if you add nothing, then you end up with an anthology of cliches. Not an unpleasant diversion- Pegg and Frost have the easy chemistry of eternal roommates- but nothing to phone home about.