geekent’s stuff’n things

People go on and on about The Sopranos, The Wire, Battlestar Galactica and other modern, epic series in genre storytelling as the best show ever made for TV. To them I would without hesitation put The Venture Bros. up against them in competition. While handily the aforementioned could win their title for best Mobster, Cop Drama, or Sci-Fi show, The Venture Bros would take best cartoon, best superhero, best adventure, and go mano y mano with Arrested Development or Seinfeld as best comedy. All my opinion of course, but I sincerely believe that this show is absolutely one of the best series ever created.

Season Three debuts with nary an appearance from the titular characters, instead it focuses on The Monarch and his new bride, Doctor Girlfriend, as they are given a thorough brow beating by their superiors in the League of Calamitous Intent. In fact, the machinations of the League is the focal point of this season, with plenty of episodes dealing with the requirements to be an Arch Villain and the rules surrounding the engaging of the Protagonist. It’s applying logic to absurdity, and it’s brilliant.

If it wasn’t obvious before, it is now that the show is about much more than the adventures of Hank, Dean, Rusty and Brock and it’s initial impetus as satire of Johnny Quest. Instead it’s weaving a intricate history around all the characters in the series, as they relate to one another. Dr. Venture Sr. and Team Venture of old are highlighted a number of times, as are the previous generation of villains that he faced. Themes of legacy are strewn throughout. The Monarch has to deal with the fact that he’s no longer allowed to “arch” his hated nemesis Dr. Venture, and his new neighbor Sgt. Hatred gets the gig. Origin stories for Phantom Limb, The Monarch, Quizboy Billy and even (briefly) Baron Underbite all surface, while Rusty’s boyhood traumas and fantasies bubble to the surface. Hank and Dean each manage to grow up in their own way, while Brock manages to avoid finding out he has a son (or so we’re led to believe) and gets himself canned by the OSI. The rich tapestry of characters already introduced come back for more, including Col. Gentleman, Richard Impossible, Johnny Quest, 21 and 24, while also introducing more new characters, including some previously mentioned but never seen (like Truckules). One episode even takes the show back another generation, to the days of Rusty’s grandfather and the gestation for the League.

Yes, the show is dense, but each episode manages to stand on its own, as an adventure piece, an action piece, or a superhero/villain piece, but it’s always an askew take on the genres, loaded with humour and particularly ingenious insight into the absurd workings of genre storytelling. Beautifully animated with a great voice cast (though with the expanding roster of characters involved, some of the vocal talent are taking on too many) and some of the sharpest dialogue ever written for TV, I find myself constantly wide-eyed and smiling wide whenever I have the show on, and no matter how many times I watch an episode I only seem to enjoy it more.

The DVD set of season three is thinner than previous with deleted scenes (recorded audio but storyboard visuals) and audio commentary. The most notable thing about this season’s release is it’s uncensored, which means all the swears are heard loud and clear (and it seems more profound this season than previously) as well there’s quite a bit of mantackle on display. Frankly, and my only quibble, I find it funnier when it is censored.

Steven Soderbergh, ever the stylistic chameleon, takes on Humphrey Bogart-style 1940’s wartime noir. Set in battered Berlin a short time after the Nazis surrendered, the climate is one of change, of opportunity, of greed and of loss. Jacob Geismer (George Clooney) is a journalist, returning to Berlin after an indeterminate absence. He’s greeted by his driver, an uncharismatic, cocky soldier named Tully (Tobey Maguire) who thinks he has his finger on the pulse of the city and it’s inhabitants, from ex-Nazis, to concentration camp survivors, to Russian and American Generals. Tully finds himself infatuated with Lena Brandt (Cate Blanchett), his mistress and a prostitute with more than her fair share of secrets and sadness.

That Tully, a wholly unpleasant character, winds up dead is not a surprise, and even less so that during peacetime talks nobody wants his murder investigated. But Jacob decides to investigate the mystery, despite the fact that Tully had stolen his wallet, beaten him up and taken advantage of his ex-mistress Lena. What begins to unfurl is a cascade of secrets linking recent atrocities to potential future ones, all of it surrounding Lena. There’s justice to be served, but Jacob, either for his own satisfaction or for the greater good, cant decide whether he’s going to be the one to deliver it.

The story is told in three acts, the focus of each on one of the three main characters, with Tully providing the set-up, Jacob unravelling the mystery, and Lena providing the resolution. Directed in black and white and dealing wholly in characters shaded in grey, the film is mocked up with olde fashioned set pieces and a vintage make-up style. With the exception of the rawness of the dialogue (but the inflection and delivery aren’t too far off) the film fully evokes a classic cinema feel, carried home by Thomas Newman’s faithful homage to the scores of the era.

An enjoyable experiment, involving and intriguing story that roots around in the darker corners of World War II and events that would follow. For lovers of classic cinema, this might prove a little too raw, or the various homages might prove distracting (the ending scene is perhaps too obvious riff off Casablanca, maybe?), but invariably it is a fascinating post-modern work.

This highly praised 2007 Sidney Lumet film is a crime film wrapped in a family drama, or vice versa. Two brothers of middle to upper class status both find themselves in desperate financial straights. When eldest brother Andy (Philip Seymore Hoffman) convinces the baby of the family Hank (Ethan Hawke) to commit a perceivably easy robbery, Hank enlists outside help and the caper goes horribly wrong, throwing both of their lives and family lives into incredible turmoil. The film sharply tackles the set-up, the execution and the fallout in rich depth via multiple characters, but does so in a non-linear fashion. The non-linear aspect isn’t necessarily a misstep, but the way it transitions between each POV is awkward and jarring, as if Lumet was going for a Guy Ritchie-esque technique, terribly out of place within the tone of the film. The climax of the film spirals wildly out of control into further and further extremes, invariably removing you from relating to the characters, which weakens the film. In tone it’s not too dissimilar to No Country For Old Men but it’s more methodically paced, and not as profound a story, especially given the ending. A really good, but not quite great film.

You know it can’t be a good sign when a book’s publisher takes the bulk of his two page introduction praising the creator but panning the characters he’s developed. “This is shit. It’s awful, nobody is going to want to read it.” That’s a direct quote from SLG publisher Dan Vado with respect to the SLG published Skelebunnies by Tommy Kovac.

To be fair, Vado, in his intro, does state that he came around and eventually came to enjoy the living dead abominations that populated the three one-shots that are collected here with additional bonus features. I wish I could say the same.

I like irreverent, oblique, and silly humour, I also can enjoy scatological dick and fart jokes with the next Kevin Smith/Judd Apatow patron, and even violence as comedy I can chortle at. Skelebunnies has all these styles of comedy, and yet very little of it amused me. I wasn’t put off by it, I wasn’t offended, and though Vado is right and it is “wrong on every other level”, I didn’t find it so audacious as to be admired. Most of the buttons Kovac is trying to push have been pushed before, and and with far more skilled fingers. This is not to say Kovac isn’t talented, his recent, utterly fantastic Wonderland is a prime example that Kovac can tell a story, and even here his cartooning is wonderfully rendered in a variety of styles, showing incredible flexibility. I guess it just comes down to I don’t find his creations funny.

To be honest, here’s why: this sort of stream-of-consciousness, punchline-free humour which sometimes takes dead ends or really has no purpose is exactly my sense of humour about 15 years ago. I’m not saying I was as talented as Kovac (my cartooning skills weren’t even close to being as sharp) but I can see the cogs moving in the background, I can see the wizard behind the curtain, and I know how flimsy the foundation is. It’s not trying too hard, it’s just not trying hard enough. The lack of cohesion is one part of it, but general berserk, fourth-wall breaking, semi-self aware pointless mayhem is the bigger issue. There’s a lack of craft to the comedy, it’s missing refinement. Put Skelebunnies up against Milk and Cheese or Arsenic Lullaby and the difference is tangible.

“What’s the point?” the back cover copy asks. “To giggle, my friends. To giggle.” If only. Vado has higher praise in his introduction for two other Kovac series, Autumn and Wonderland, I’d recommend you start there instead.

With the economy the way it is today, and the general status of the comic book marketplace, it’s getting difficult to find value in comics. $3.99 for 22 pages of story (or even 30 pages of story + back-up story) just isn’t very attractive for even the wealthiest of comic enthusiasts for even the best of stories. Gone are the days of picking up a handful different books on Wednesday, when five books would cost you 50 cents or five bucks. It seems that people are, or soon will be, willing to shell out for a collected edition or original graphic novel rather than a monthly periodical. On occasion, publishers are willing to dole out their wares in bulkier forms at bargain prices… Marvel’s “Essential” series, DC’s “Showcase” line, Dark Horse, Oni and here, with Peter David’s Fallen Angel series, IDW’s Omnibuses.

The Fallen Angel Omnibus collects the first 21 issues of the title’s second series, a gargantuan 500+ page softcover for $24.99. The first series, also 21 issues long, was published by DC, and as David explains in his introduction, was originally supposed to dovetail into the mythology of the Supergirl series. The axe fell before he could do that, which allowed David to wrangle the book as a creator-owned series instead of part of DCU architecture, thus transporting it to IDW and breathing new life into the title. The publishing past of Fallen Angel is only important in knowing that there are preceding chapters to this series (the first 12 issues were collected in two volumes from DC, oddly the second volume of which came out well after the first two trades of series two were already published by IDW) and that they are referenced marginally in the second series, but the second series picks up quite some time after the first, forging a fresh new path.

Bete Noir is known as “the city that shapes the world”, and it’s a rotting, stinking cesspool of crime, corruption and sin. It’s operated by the Magistrate, whom the city speaks to, whom it protects, but the Magistrate isn’t almighty, he still answers to the Hierarchy. A king, a demi-god of town, the Magistrate rules with delicate operation, everyone serves his will it seems, all but the Fallen Angel. Lee is indeed a fallen guardian angel, cast down from heaven to live amongst the humans for her failures under the boss. Where the Magistrate rules, Lee gets drunk, picks fights and takes requests.

Time seems to almost stand still in Bete Noir, out of step with the rest of the world, but still as people don’t necessarily look older, some can feel the years, and the current Magistrate is looking to pass along the title to his firstborn son, who happens to be the offspring he produced with Lee (both his greatest love and his greatest nemesis), the child whom he thought was aborted, the child who was given to a nun, raised in a church and is now a priest.

In this volumes, many secrets about Lee’s past, the nature of Bete Noir and its corrupting effect on not just its citizens but also the world’s are explored. It’s rich supporting cast is expanded, including Sachs and Violens (which David created with George Perez for Marvel Epic in the early 1990s), Lee’s predecessor, and, obviously Lee’s son. There’s also a multi-part tale featuring Billy Tucci’s Shi, which takes place in one of the two hidden sister cities to Bete Noir, Yellow Springs.

Fallen Angel is a book that believes in religion, but it’s using it more in a fantasy/superhero vein than as a tool for conversion. Without spoiling it, David’s crafted a rather amusing non-scientific rationale behind global warming. Religious idealists might find the book blasphemous, but David ably takes religious stories, superstitions and misconceptions and weaves them together into a highly enjoyable book that’s into being philosophical when it’s not about kicking ass.

There’s a roster of artists over the 21 issues, although the bulk of the chores are handled by J.K. Woodward. Woodward opens the initial story arc with fully (digitally?) painted work which is effective at delivering some of the more awe-inspiring moments of the story. Subsequent issues, which Woodward handles with more conventional illustration and coloring techniques show more prominently the flaws in his work. There’s often a lack of consistency to a character’s appearance with an occasional look of distortion. There’s also an obvious tendency to either photo reference or photo manipulate (or both) leaving many of the panels feeling stiff and unnatural. But overall, Woodward handles the storytelling aspects well, with good flow along the panels. As well, he’s not afraid to experiment with storytelling styles and techniques which allows him to really punch up some sequences and differentiate the stories through illustration style.

In some respects, I find the title character to be the book’s weakest link, but also its greatest strength. Her character, when put up against what we typically view stories involving spiritual beings, is way off type. The rather bitter, drunk, vindictive former angel with a sailor’s mouth is not what we’ve come to expect from fictional angels, way off type from Michael Landon and Della Reese, and even Christopher Walken and Peter Stormaire’s dark portrayals of angels would seem heavenly compared to Lee. I guess it’s because Lee doesn’t act as a stranger to humanity, she doesn’t act above human impulse, but also she acts so… crassly American that makes her unusual. But then again, it makes you think, about what she knows, and how she is, and why she is that way.

Lee does take a side-seat in the second half of the omnibus, however, with stories about her predecessor, her son’s role as Magistrate and Shi taking the spotlight in the crossover, by the end of this first massive volume you become aware that it’s not just about the Fallen Angel, but about the world she inhabits that David enjoys exploring. Like Bete Noir, the book is dark and flawed, but there’s certainly more than enough to enjoy to keep coming back. At less than 5 cents a page, it’s at the very least an affordable vacation from the norm.

It would have been so terribly easy to make this film about a repressed 20-something man who buys a “Real Doll” off the internet for companionship as a comedy. Well much credit to screenwriter Nancy Oliver and director Craig Gillespie for delivering instead a beautifully human movie about community, compassion and understanding, avoiding at every turn expected Hollywood cliches.

Lars, as inhabited by Ryan Gosling, lives in the garage behind his family house which his brother, Gus, and sister-in-law, Karin, now inhabit. They don’t see much of him, and almost all of Karin’s efforts to get him to come inside are rejected. Lars is a bit of a loner, though he has a job, attends church and is congenial with its parishioners and his coworkers. It becomes evident though that he doesn’t like physical contact and that he has a difficult time facing women, including the new girl at work, Margo, who is obviously smitten with him.

Lars is shown a website by his cubical-mate that makes life-like sex/companion dolls, but he tries to ignore it. Six months later “Bianca” arrives at the garage, and Lars is overjoyed, telling a now pregnant Karin that he would like to bring his “girlfriend” over to dinner. “We met on the internet,” he says, stating that she’s from Brazil and doesn’t speak English very well. Gus and Karin are rightfully taken aback by Lars’ new friend, he has conversations with her, and relays what she has to say back to others around her. Concerned, they coax Lars (by saying Bianca should get a check-up) into going to see Dagmar, a general practitioner and psychologist down at the hospital. Dagmar reveals that Lars is not crazy but has a delusion, and that Bianca is a serving some purpose in his life, and also that the best thing for him would be for others to go along with it.

Gus objects at first, but is helpless to think of any alternatives, while Karin takes great effort to alert the people around town to the arrival of Lars’ new friend. The film doesn’t shy away from the humour of the situation, but it doesn’t exacerbate it. People’s reactions to the Bianca are natural, but their understanding of her purpose is even greater. The sense of community that rallies around Lars, helping him out with his affliction, is intensely powerful and it’s the heart of the film. The town starts treating Bianca as a real person, because Lars needs her to be. They take her shopping in her wheelchair, they take her to the beauty parlor, they volunteer her at the hospital, they give her a life, which in turn teaches Lars that women aren’t a man’s property.

Through sessions with Dagmar, Lars learns to be more comfortable with physical communication, and with Bianca as a security blanket he learns how to socialize. There’s no leaps and bounds here, though, Lars doesn’t just turn around and start hugging people. It’s subtle gestures like a handshake, or his making eye contact with women that reveals his growth. Similarly we discover the source of Lars’ trauma, and Gus, a defiantly different brother character, experiencing guilt and sympathy towards Lars, rather than being bullish an brash. Like a big brother should, he becomes a bit of a role model for Lars, even though he doesn’t understand it.

From start to finish, it’s a warm and charming film, wonderfully acted and perfectly executed.