Happy New Year

Comic Review – The Walking Dead #56, Punisher: Warzone #3, Unknown Soldier #3, Doktor Sleepless #10 and Batman #683

(issue 56 of “Preacher” has the same kind of cover. Coincidence or homage?)

The Walking Dead #56

Written by Robert Kirkman

Art by Charlie Adlard

Gray Tones by Cliff Rathburn

Lettering by Rus Wooton

Published by Image Comics

In a nutshell: Kirkman seems to find some ground and adds an interesting subplot to what has been a terribly irregular arc. Adlard’s art and Cliffburn’s tones are as efficient as usual.

Again, I’m hoping this issue means Robert Kirkman finally found a subplot that can get this title moving again. Recently, the writer has used unlikely coincidences and events to do so, almost reducing the characters to stereotypes. In this issue, however, he introduces a new, tense problem that not only is character-driven, but also original – something difficult for an ongoing series that’s almost at sixty issues, equivalent to, not counting the delays, five years of publishing.

In the previous episode, Maggie hanged herself. I questioned the probability of Maggie actually doing that and filed it under “shock value”, but in this issue, Kirkman builds an excellent scene around the event, which serves as a base to the aforementioned tense subplot. It’s refreshing to see Rick being himself for the first time in a long time, as Michonne put it. Also, Kirkman shrouds Maggie’s decision in mystery, which indicates he has a plausible explanation (I hope) for what she did. I will say no more about this or about Maggie, because I’m coming very close to revealing a spoiler around which the first scene depends in order to be appropriately striking.

What’s important is Abraham, the new character Kirkman introduced and who seems straight out of “Gears of War”: big, manly and blunt, he’s clearly a control freak who likes to believe nobody knows as much about the situation than he does. Therefore, his face when he turns out to be so horribly wrong in a certain moment is, to Charlie Adlard’s credit, perfect. And to Kirkman’s credit, so is his behavior for the rest of the issue, right up until the final page that summarizes basically what’s wrong with the character.

Pretty much nailing the characterization and dialogue this time, Kirkman also gets the pacing right – unlike the previous issue, which was a disappointingly quick read on top of being a mediocre one as well. So once again, I repeat: I hope the writer keeps it up this time, going back to the character-driven style that made all the issues up to #51 must-reads.

As for Charlie Adlard, his art continues as consistent and narratively excellent as usual, but I did notice some carelessness. An almost hilarious example is when Rick is confronting Abraham and his gun is holstered on the right side of his waist – and Rick doesn’t have a right hand, which would make for a quite funny scene if a zombie happened to show up. But when Rick is walking away in the same scene, the holster is back on the left side. Aside from that, facial expressions and panel composition are as professional as I’ve come to expect from Adlard, and Cliff Rathburn’s grey tones cleans everything up nicely. Rus Wooton’s lettering keeps the same high standards from previous issues.

“The Walking Dead #56″ is a good read, but it doesn’t convince me the next issue will be as good. I am, however, reassured.

(couldn’t find issue three’s cover on Google Images, so that’s  issue one’s)

Punisher: Warzone #3

Written by Garth Ennis

Art by Steve Dillon

Colors by Matt Hollingsworth

(I think I just squealed out of sheer awesome – it’s the “Preacher” team!)

Lettering by VC’s Cory Petit

Published by Marvel Knights

In a nutshell: Ennis, Dillon and Hollingsworth. Do I really need to say more?

This mini-series came as a complete surprise to me. I had no idea Ennis and Dillon were briefly returning to their darkly hilarious Marvel Knights’ Punisher ongoing. For a second, I thought it was a half-assed adaptation of the film until I saw their names on the cover, and Matt Hollingsworth to boot. Obviously, I smiled like an idiot at that sight. Although I most definitely prefer the Max version of the character, Ennis’ previous Punisher was still one of the best dark comedy ongoings in the industry – I’ll never, ever forget the classic scene Frank Castle runs over Wolverine with a steamroller (“This’ll do the trick”), or uses Spider-Man as a human shield against The Russian (who, by the way, has a huge pair of tits in that very scene).

So to see a sequel to the classic Punisher maxisseries that pretty much ressurrected the character from his disastrous “Angelic Avenger” portrayal is really satisfying, especially when it (sort of) brings back a great villain: Ma Gnucci. In the previous issues, Frank saw the return of the wretched bitch, whom he had crippled – leaving only a head and a torso, but still alive – and posteriorly kicked into a mansion on fire, watching until he was sure she’d died. So it came as a bit of a surprise when, in the first issue, she appeared in a Gnucci reunion. Once again proving why he’s the best Punisher writer ever, Ennis promptly made Frank bazooka the fuck out of her and everyone around her, killing her instantly – Frank Castle was never one to let surprise cloud his judgement. But apparently, she had been seen again another location afterwards. Confused, Castle tries to get to the bottom of this as he works with an informant who’s undercover in the Gnucci family in exchange for his life when the job’s done. Meanwhile, the son of aristocrat vigilante Elite is determined to carry on his father’s work: assassinating the Punisher.

Establishing the light, cruelly funny tone of the book right in the first page that recollects everything that happened up to this point, Ennis is clearly just having fun here doing his trip down memory lane, and he’s ever so happy to let us in on the ride. The dialogue is sharp as you’d expect from him and the characterizations are, as usual, the story’s main strenght – since The Punisher himself is not exactly the deepest guy in the world, the supporting characters need to be interesting so we’ll care about the story. Case in point, the undercover agent Frank’s using, Schitti, is immediately likable – and the nagging doubt on whether the Punisher will let him live or not is always present. While the unforgettable lieutenant Martin Soap is not present, the lesbian detective Von Richthofen is, and her personal struggles with her bissexual girlfriend is one of the book’s highlights. The new Elite is as funny as the previous one, and his captions are priceless in their spoiled little aristocratic rants. It’s impressive how Ennis easily goes back to the style of his MK Punisher series, which ended about five years ago.

And then we have Steve Dillon, a brilliant artist whose style I’ve come to nearly worship. Some say his characters all look alike, but that’s just pointless nitpicking – if you pay attention, most artists who don’t use reference have characters that look alike – even the phenomenal John Cassaday suffers from this. What really matters about Dillon’s art is the perfect visual narrative – clear angles, excellent facial expressions, an immediate compatibility with Ennis’ writing. I thought he was severely underestimated for his “Wolverine: Origins” work – he was one of the few good things in that title. Also, I always liked Dillon’s clean lines. In this mini-series, he’s particularly inspired and comfortable with the action scenes and especially, the humor.

Finally, Matt Hollingsworth, a hugely talented color artist who is clearly satisfied to be working with Dillon again. Notice how he nails the lighting in the graveyard scene, and the blur he adds when someone shoots in order to simulate the gun’s recoil. Dillon, too, gets Castle’s shooting stance perfectly – it’s not easy to draw a machinegun shooting stance due to it’s complex nature: butt of the gun on shoulder, one hand on the trigger, the other on the grip, eyes lined up with ironsights – tricky. But he does it. I’m just unsure whether it’s correct to close one eye while shooting – I hear it’s wrong not to aim with both eyes open.

Entertaining and nostalgic, “Punisher: Warzone #3″ is a fun trip. When it comes to me – as must know by now – the more Ennis, the better. And it’s weekly, too.

(couldn’t find issue three’s cover, would you believe. So that one is… dunno. One of the covers.)

Unknown Soldier #3

Written by Joshua Dysart

Art by Alberto Ponticelli

Colors by Oscar Celestini

Lettering by Clem Robins

Published by DC\Vertigo

In a nutshell: One of the best single issues of 2008. Holy SHIT.

“Unknown Soldier #3″ can already be considered one of the best single issues of 2008.  Despite Alberto Ponticelli’s weak artwork, the narrative is strong and relentless, not afraid of showing children being murdered and the complex nature of Uganda’s war. It dissects the nature of the country’s violence via the eyes of an apparently psychotic man, Lwanga Moses – the new Unknown Soldier.

In this issue, Moses fails to pull the trigger when necessary and is captured by the L.R.A. (Lord’s Resistance Army) and sees, up close, how disgusting and rotten it all is when he meets with the leader of the particular cell he’s been captured by – a man who casually says he’s a friend of Jesus Christ, but sees no problem in brainwashing children and using them as soldiers – or little girls as wives for these soldiers. It’s, at the same time, painful to witness how Moses is starting to depend on the dark side of his personality – the one who, so far inexplicably, guides him in battle. Reaching a perfect balance, Dysart exposes the rotten nature of religion while he shows some of the goodness it may inspire, like sister Sharon’s struggle to save the children.

But his story isn’t mere propaganda – it’s strongly based and written, with excellent dialogue and brilliant use of violence to cause necessary shock. And the last page is heartbreaking, even in Ponticelli’s under-developed pencils, for what it portrays alone.

Ponticelli is, as already mentioned, lost. His narrative is comprehensible, but his lines are sketchy and indecisive, without the necessary weight a story like this requires. Colorist Oscar Celestini gets the tones right, but his simplistic palette doesn’t help Ponticelli’s art in the slightest – this is a book someone like Goran Parlov would be immensely comfortable drawing, and I hope the next arc brings a better-suited artist to handle it.

Brave and poignant, “Unknown Soldier #3″ establishes Joshua Dysart as a very, very promising graphic novellist. If this arc continues on this path, it will even surpass Ennis’ Unknown Soldier mini-series – and that is pretty much the highest compliment I can offer.

Doktor Sleepless #10

Written by Warren Ellis

Art by Ivan Rodriguez

Colors by Andrew Dalhouse

Published by Avatar Press

In a nutshell: Even if Warren Ellis hasn’t been as sharp as usual, Dok Sleepless continues to be an intriguing and well-written ongoing – especially in this excellent issue.

In order to build the mythology around his titular character, Warren Ellis (aka Internet Jesus, Love Swami and other nicknames used by the people on his criminally fun social network) has taken a step back from the protagonist and is now portraying Heavenside, the city he lives in – or haunts, depending on who you are. As he does that, he also builds the central mystery of the book: who the fuck IS Doktor Sleepless? Is he good? Is he evil? What’s his ultimate plan? Who’s he using?

In issue #10, we are introduced to Alex Singer, a dirty-mouthed detective who mantains an unpolite (but playful) relationship with her superior – a subtle touch in characterization that adds to the characters’ individuality, an aspect I’ve been giving Ellis shit about in my reviews of late, saying his characters sound too much like the man himself (check out his Astonishing X-Men run, for an example). So it’s nice to see people who seem less like Ellis’ creations and more like… well, people. This detective in particular ends up with Dr. Albert Cannon, who just attempted to shank a reporter called Sarah Berlin. As she interrogates him, she finds out surprising truths about the man – and a final, horrible truth surrounding him and the captain of the police, the all-powerful Preston Stoker – so powerful, in fact, he can afford to talk about himself in the third person without being called on it.

The dialogue is priceless this time around. I especially like when a policeman says Cannon has been getting treatment for his burns, Alex asks what kind of treatment and he answers “Pointing and laughing, mostly”. But the winning line is most definitely when Alex asks Cannon: “You were going to stab Sarah Berlin with the same knife you used to stab Gregory Shale. Why?” and he replies “Well, it was the only knife I had”. THIS is the Warren Ellis I love reading. Clever and sharp without losing sight of characterization. A especially brilliant moment is when a character slaps another – something that comes unexpectedly and conveys the gravity of the situation.

Ivan Rodriguez improves with each issue. His visual narrative is stylish and his characters have interesting design. In an issue that consists mostly of indoor settngs, he captures the feel just right, choosing good angles and shadowing to keep the scene interesting, as if the dialogue alone wasn’t enough. Andrew Dalhouse’s coloring is appropriate and pretty.

Intriguing and well-written, “Doktor Sleepless #10″ raises the standards of this series. It’s not a great ongoing yet, but most definitely a solid one.

Okay, okay. I’ll behave.

Batman #683

Written by (sigh) Grant Morrison

Art by Lee Garb -- oh, c’mon.

“Soul-killing shells”. I admired the structure of the previous issue, but this one is just more of the same with absolutely horrible, expositional dialogue and it hammers the same point: Batman is awesome. He’s the strongest, the smartest, he thinks of EVERYTHING yeah yeah I know. Anyway, I’m glad it’s over. Morrison’s run was a fucking disaster for the character – all it added of new sucked, with the only exception being the Joker’s new visual, which is interesting and less goofy.

I’m not going to waste any more time saying the same things I’ve been saying for the last five reviews or so.

Prematurity

Reminiscences

Movie Review – Burn After Reading

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0887883/fullcredits#cast

Joel and Ethan Coen are amazing story-tellers, capable of making the simplest situation become interesting to their audience. And what happens in “Burn After Reading” is exactly that – a hugely complicated conflict that boils down to nothing important in the end of the day – which is what makes the movie funnier, since the main characters seem to believe they’re in the middle of something immense.

It begins when Osborne Cox (John Malkovich), a small-time CIA analyst, is fired and decides to write a memoir book. Problem is, the classified information ends up in the hands of two morons, Chad (Brad Pitt) – a fuckwit who refers to everything as “shit” (“Man, look at this ’shit’” or “I just got this ’shit’”) due to his obvious lack of vocabulary – and Linda (Frances McDormand), a woman obsessed with her appearance who needs money to pay for four plastic surgeries. They decide to blackmail Cox, who’s got a serious temper. Meanwhile, Harry (George Clooney), who works at the treasury and has online dating as one of his hobbies, is fucking Cox’s wife.

That’s the main premise. And then everyone fucks up at some point or another, a fuckup piles on top of the previous fuckup and eventually it’s a clusterfuck of relatively epic proportions – and I mean relatively because the CIA doesn’t actually give a shit about the files, which makes the characters’ self-importance all the funnier.

“Burn After Reading” is supposed to be the third film in a trilogy comprised of “O Brother Where Art Thou” and “Intolerable Cruelty” – I dislike the former and haven’t watched the latter, so I’m happy the final film is actually very good. It’s incredibly entertaining to watch the characters’ lives intertwining into a huge mess, especially since they’re very distinct among themselves – which makes their interaction much more interesting. Just watch the scenes where Brad Pitt and John Malkovich share the screen.

Malkovich, by the way, stands out thanks to his ability to be histrionically hilarious. His outbursts are some of the best scenes in the film. Pitt, who has done retarded and eccentric characters before, is wholly convincing as Chad: his attempts to be smarter than he actually is are brilliant (I love the voice he makes when trying to sound intimidating). Frances McDormand, though, seems determined to be funny, which obviously causes the opposite effect – she’s terrible in her first scene, which is something I most definitely don’t expect from McDormand. Fortunately, that’s (almost) counter-balanced by her well-written character. George Clooney is in complete control of his role and clearly having fun, the bastard. That’s clear in the scene he slices carrots.

Impossible not to mention J. K. Simmons who, as ALWAYS, is phenomenal in every frame. And he shows up only twice. Someone give this guy his own movie, he’s too talented to be a supporting character, although he always works wonders as that. Richard Jenkins cleverly avoids trying to be funny, and instead plays his character seriously – with a touch of tragedy, even – , which just makes his fate even more hilarious. Tilda Swinton plays a cold, stuck-up bitch and she’s so convincing I wonder if she’s not like that in real life.

With a cast where the only weak link is – I cannot believe I’m saying this – Frances McDormand, the Coens tipically do an excellent job as directors (as well as screenwriters – the dialogue is pure gold, as I’ve come to expect from their films). Also responsible for the brilliant editing, they compose their frames with tremendous care (something visible in the room Osbourne Cox is told he’s being fired, when the camera focuses on four characters with perfect balance) and even play with some spy movie conventions, like satellite vision and the music composed by Carter Burwell, which is hilariously solemn and mysterious, intending to reflect an atmosphere of intrigue and mystery that boils down to just a bunch of assholes having trouble. To make things better, the Coens also use the kind of humor I’m a fan of – black humor. They always do, yes, I’m just glad they’re still doing it and I hope they continue.

Proving once again the Coens’ versatility – this movie comes after “No Country For Old Men”, after all – “Burn After Reading” is a clever comedy of errors, well put together and with a great cast. It’s good to see that even after the tremendous success of their previous movie, the Coens are keeping their heads upright and away from their asses.

PS: The chair Clooney’s character invents is pure fucking gold.

Attention Deficit

Movie Review – [REC]

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1038988/fullcredits#cast

“Subjective Horror”. That’s how I call this new subgenre that’s been taking over horror movies, filmed with a single camera that’s not only acknowledged by the characters but filmed by one of them. I liked “Blair’s Witch”, I really liked “Cloverfield” (horror movie in epic scale) and I was most definitely impressed by this Spanish “[REC]“, in which irresistibly beautiful reporter Angela Vidal (Manuela Velasco) is trying to get a fireman’s night on tape with her cameraman Pablo (Pablo Rosso, director of photography as well) for her show “While You Sleep”. Interviewing the firemen as she waits for something to happen, the alarm finally rings and she follows them into a domestic call – an old woman apparently trapped in her apartment, screaming. Once they get there, the call turns out to be much more serious when granny injures a policeman with her teeth in a fit of inexplicable rage – and to make things worse, government agents seal the entire building off, not letting anyone outside, claiming it’s to protect against an infection.

Trapped inside their own building, the denizens obviously dislike the situation and behave accordingly – which is one of “[REC]“’s strenghts: nobody acts like an utter imbecile. The characters do exactly as you would expect from anyone in their situation: some freak out, some try keeping it together, Angela attempts to understand what’s going on and get it on tape. They all act like human beings – ocasionally that means doing stupid things, yes, ocasionally it means doing noble things. A moment that exemplifies the movie’s tridimensional characters is the scene in which a policeman points his gun to the people in order to quiet them down and proceeds to apologise, ashamed, afterwards.

This effect is achieved also thanks to the excellent actors – and while all of them do a great job (especially the elderly couple), it’s Manuela Velasco who stands out – thanks not only to her nice b — er, beauty, but also the realism of her performance – she actually LOOKS scared, ACTS scared. This is very clear in a sequence that happens in the dark and is seen in nightvision – her reaction to the pitch-black darkness is absolutely perfect.

Directors Jaume Balagueró and Paco Plaza, along with director of photography Pablo Rosso, do a terrific job of making the footage sound natural and spur-of-the-moment. “Cloverfield” did have some exaggeratedly clear takes – not to mention the guy handling the camera wasn’t a professional, so his talent in focusing the action was a mystery. In “[REC]“, the camera behaves with surprising realism to the events – i.e. with a lot of confusion and zooming – and Pablo being a professional cinematographer forgives the way he always captures what’s happening, no matter how shakily or blurredly.

The movie also deserves credit for not sparing children – in fact, one of the best scenes involves a child and her mother. Always aiming for realism, this film shows blood, wounds and gore without giving a fuck, something I most definitely admire. Not to mention the lack of any kind of soundtrack: instead, the sound editing is phenomenally good.

There’s a scene that tries to explain what happened – a scene that might sound excessively expositional, but actually it’s used to build up the ending – which is one of the scariest sequences I’ve seen in horror films. After a particularly well-filmed escape (involving a staircase), “[REC]” creates the spookiest situation it can think of and doesn’t hold back filming it. Shame that right after the ending, an ill-placed heavy rock song plays in the credits – no sound at all would be much more appropriate – or maybe sound effects of screams and gore – in order to allow the spectator to absorb what he’s just seen.

This “Subjective Horror” subgenre can be used in other genres as well to good effect – the motion-sickness-sensitive audience won’t appreciate it much, but the rest probably will. Subjective camera or not, “[REC]” is a shining example of a good horror movie. Yes, the script trips here or there with a convenient stroke of luck (the key to the penthouse) or something similar, but mostly it portrays the terrifying situation with extreme realism and horror.

PS: I fell in love with actress Jennifer Carpenter in the show “Dexter”, so that’s the only reason I’ll watch the absolutely useless remake “Quarantine”. “[REC]“’s only reason to get a remake is not being in English, and that’s not reason enough.

James Cameron Is Back

James Cameron saying something to Sam Worthington in the sets of “Avatar”, his new sci-fi scheduled for December 2009.

Twelve years after “Titanic”. Goddamn, James, you took your time. Welcome back.

Movie Review – Le Scaphandre et le Papillon (The Diving Bell and the Butterfly)

(December 21st 2009 observation: while I stick to the points made in this review, the anger in the writing itself is admittedly excessive, although it adequately portrays my feelings upon finding out how horribly the real story had been distorted. Still, this review should have been written more professionally, with less words in capital letters, for example. In fact, I’d re-write it, but that would force me to watch this film again, so…)

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0401383/

The cinematic version of Jean-Dominique Bauby’s struggle against locked-in syndrome is a lie. A pretty lie decorated with beautiful cinematography and an amazing performance by Mathieu Amalric, but a lie nonetheless. And not just a little lie, like the ones seen in excellent movies like “Donnie Brasco” – small lies that can be forgiven. It’s a huge, disgusting lie that, much like “Cinderella Man” did with Max Baer, portrays a person in a completely different way from her true self – and thinks changing that person’s name is enough.

In 1995, the powerful editor of “Elle” magazine, Jean-Dominique Bauby, suffered a monumental stroke that stripped him of all bodily movement with the exception of his left eye. While his mental faculties were intact, he was completely at the mercy of other people, and needed to develop a way to communicate with the help of his fonoaudiologist. While incarcerated in his own body, Bauby wrote a whole fucking BOOK using his EYELID. That takes enormous patience, and while I haven’t read the book, I certainly plan to. It’s commendable that a man who, at least in my opinion, had every right in the world to request an euthanasia, endured his condition, learned to live with it for the rest of his life (another two years) and registered his experience for all to read. His lover, Florence (in the movie, named “Inès”), stayed by his side until his death, while the mother of his two children, Sylvia (in the movie, named “Céline”) was with a boyfriend, in New York, by the time of his death. I don’t blame her for this. She visited Bauby in the hospital, even if rarely, and their relationship was dissolved by the time he had the stroke. She had a right to move on.

That was what happened. But not according to this film, and this is what pisses me off the most. Not only Bauby’s lover Florence\Inés never visits him ONCE in the hospital, Céline\Sylvia\whatevertheFUCK sticks with him to the end and is portrayed as a saint. It goes as far as director Julian Schnabel changing the NUMBER OF CHILDREN BAUBY HAD to three instead of two. Why? Because Schnabel couldn’t bring himself to tell one of the kids he’d cast to bugger off. But he certainly could bring himself to portray a woman as a heartless bitch to the entire planet when, in real life, she suffered like hell for Bauby. Very noble, you fuck. I’m sure Jean-Dominique would have liked to see the woman he loved being treated like that.

And these are not the only changes. According to Florence, Bauby NEVER said to someone that he wanted to die, which he does in the film. To add this is just a stupid attempt to create a hollywood-esque emotional arc that goes from “defeat” to “victory”. Why in the name of fuck screenwriters (in this case, Ronald Harwood from “The Pianist”) believe their fiction can be more interesting than what actually happened? You want to write your fiction? Then write it IN A WORK OF FICTION. Don’t change a man’s life just because you can’t work with the real facts. Not to mention Bauby was far from being the “perfect human being” this film describes – tolerant (I expected him to be angry at many of the people who came to visit him, but there were no internal monologues most of the time), not a religious fanatic (a good thing in my book), great sense of humour. And according to the article linked above, he criticized Florence’s choice of clothes and make-up when she came to visit him in real life – something the movie could have easily portrayed. But nooooooo, having a stroke turns everyone into Jesus Christ, I guess.

Problem is, this movie isn’t a piece of shit, at least not technically. Janusz Kaminsky’s cinematography is, as usual when he’s in charge, absolutely beautiful. Bauby’s POV camera is incredibly efficient, simulating tears, blinks and focus with realism. Mathieu Amalric’s performance is impecabble – the way he conveys emotion while barely able to move his face is amazing to say the least. The cast, in general, works very well. Julian Schnabel’s direction is excellent and blah blah blah blah oh fuck this…

… it’s a LIE. Sorry. All that stops mattering at this point. I don’t give a fine fuck to the previous paragraph in face to the ridiculous changes they made to such a precious, powerful story. The movie is touching and well-narrated, but it’s a lie and I cannot possibly approve of something that completely discredits a real person from a beautiful thing she did – to stay at the side of the man she loved, even when – phisically – he was reduced to a blinking eyelid. And what is the point of the religious scenes seen in the movie? What do they matter? What do they mean? Is Schnabel implying Bauby was “punished” for his lack of faith or that religion is useless? No idea, since the movie never actually elaborates on this. Maybe the latter… well, I certainly hope for the latter, because the former would be enough of an excuse to punch Schnabel and Harwood in their noses, once they pull their heads out of their own asses.

I hate “dramatic changes”, as you probably noticed by now. They’re not “dramatic changes”, they’re “changes made because the screenwriter is too much of an incompetent to work with the actual facts”. I can understand a change or two that affects mainly the plot, not the characters (since they represent real people). But to downright alter the personality of a real human being in a mainstream movie to be watched by millions of people is immoral and pointless. Now millions of people hate Florence because Schnabel and Harwood were a pair of pussies that couldn’t handle the truth.

Bauby deserved better than this. So did his lover.

Jingle Bell Bollocks

My new flash animation. Took me a week to finish this fucker. Enjoy.