“Hey! Superbitch!”

The brilliant Robin LeBlanc (writer of this great little article) linked this.

(Encapsulated) Comic Review – Punisher War Zone #06, Crossed #03, Unknown Soldier #4 and Final Crisis #07

Not feeling too well, so this week’s reviews will be dramatically trimmed down to one paragraph each. Sorry.

Punisher War Zone #06: extremely entertaining and quite funny, it also has Steve Dillon’s stellar art – in this issue, him and Ennis absolutely rock out with amazing action scenes and splash pages — greatly-coloured by Matt Hollingsworth and lettered by Cory Petit. Brilliant mini-series.

Crossed #03: This one focuses more on the characters and the loss of morality in an apocalyptic world. Ennis and Burrows take a step back from the carnage to offer a depressing look at a new world order, one even children aren’t safe from. Burrows’ art is beautiful, although Juanmar’s colours are way too bright – contradicting the appropriate cold tones of the previous issues. Excellent episode.

Unknown Soldier #04: it continues on its way to becoming a new Vertigo masterpiece. Carefully scripted with balanced amounts of intrigue, shock and character development, it suffers only from Alberto Ponticelli’s subpar art (although he improved from previous issues) and Oscar Celestini’s simplistic colouring. Clem Robins’ lettering, however, stands out thanks to its incredible intensity and his exotic designs, along with perfect balloon placement.

Final Crisis #07: Basically convinces me this is all a ridiculous joke. Pathetic, expositional dialogue, unclear plot (plot?), plot devices (again, plot?), despite the excellent visuals.

The Wonders Of The Universe

Flash Fic #8 – Pause For Lunch

Robbie and Carl met right outside the pizza place and shook hands, trading the typical greetings and walking in as an employee opened the doors for them. They didn’t need to order beer – being regular clients, the waiters brought it almost as soon as they sat at their usual table.

“So,” Robbie said, punctuating it with a slight tap on the table. “What have you been doing?”

Carl shrugged. “The usual. Working.”

Robbie nodded. “How many?” To which Carl raised four fingers. Robbie raised his eyebrows. “In a week?”

“Yeah.” Carl confirmed with a self-satisfied smile. “I’ve been a busy boy. You?”

Robbie looked down. “One.”

Carl stared at him with sympathy. “Was it good?”

“Standard. It’s been going downhill, Carl.”

Carl sipped his beer. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He thought for a moment. “Do you need money? Work? I can help you with that.”

“Nah.” Robbie said, distractingly drumming his fingers on the table. “I’ll manage. But thanks.”

“You’ve never been one to accept charity.” Carl said with a slight smile.

“I don’t ever want to be.” Robbie stated firmly, picking up the menu. “Four.” He muttered. “Wow. Four.”

Carl smiled wider. “Busy busy busy.”

“Did you buy anything?”

“No, I have all the stuff I need. But I have been thinking of getting my kid something.”

Robbie was satisfied by the change of subject. “How’s the family, by the way?”

“Oh, they’re nice.”

“Last week you told me your wife was suspicious of you.”

Carl waved his hand, dismissive. “It’s nothing. I was a bit paranoid last week.”

“I’m not surprised, with all the work you’ve been doing. You need some rest. Take a week off.”

Carl frowned. “Can’t. I stop now, it goes downhill.” He realized what he just said. “Sorry. No offence.”

“Tch, none taken.” Robbie lied. Carl noticed.

“I can assign some work for you, man.” He insisted. “I have too many.”

Robbie shook his head. “You have too many and you owe that all to yourself.”

“You can owe me one, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Robbie smiled, thankful, but decided. “I appreciate it. But no.”

Carl shrugged again. “Just let me know.” He turned and raised his hand to the waiter, who came immediately. “Pizza. Mozzarella, big. And two beers.” The waiter nodded and left.

“How was the one job?” Carl asked.

Robbie hesitated. “Let’s eat first.”

Carl frowned. “That bad?”

“Yeah. Gun jammed. I had to use the knife and I hit the target’s carotid.”

“Oh, damn.”

“Let’s just say his blue wallpaper isn’t blue anymore.”

“I keep telling you to buy a Colt.”

“As I said, let’s eat first.”

Neil Gaiman’s Blog

Neil Gaiman has a blog. Did you know that? You most certainly do, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m actually pretending to be indicating you toward it when all I want is to talk about the blog and whoops I seem to have uncovered my own shady intentions there what a crappy liar.

Anyway.

The thing is, he has a blog. Why is that so interesting? Because, dear reader, Neil Gaiman happens to be an excellent blogger on top of being an excellent author of graphic novels, novels and Scary Things. He writes with a wit and charm I can only dream of, me being still an eighteen-year-old unexperienced, unpublished and rarely-criticized-by-someone-other-than-his-own-mother writer of fiction and rants. And Gaiman just won a Newbery Award for The Graveyard Book, which is in my reading queue as soon as I finish the spectacular World War Z and the electrifying Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

His reaction to winning the Newbery on Twitter was surprising, since he abandoned his usual wit and charm in favor of several four-letter-words I also happen to be very fond of, and this sudden contrast cracked me up. And making me laugh loudly on a Monday is quite a challenge, since it’s — well — Monday. 

When it comes to his novels, I’ve read “Anansi Boys”, which I unconditionally loved for its wit and comedy alone. Funny and charming, it’s a heartfelt book that hooked me to its very end. Gaiman’s work in comic books precedes him, him being the writer of Sandman and all. He’s got a Batman book coming, if I’m not mistaken, and that should be quite interesting. Neil Gaiman’s Batman has a good sound to it. Actually, most things have a good sound to them when you add “Neil Gaiman’s”. Not just because of his work, but because Neil Gaiman is one hell of a name.

…

I seem to have got a bit carried away. *Looks at the title of the post* Ah, yes, his blog! Anyway, he has a blog. No, I’m not hyperlinking it again, wordpress.com doesn’t make this an easy task. Or maybe I still haven’t learned to meddle with wordpress.com properly. No idea. 

…

The blog. Right. You’re still reading, so this implies you haven’t scrolled back up yet to click on the link? Okay, okay, I’ll link it again.

There.

Forgive me, I am quite sleep-deprived and when you’re sleep-deprived, any urge – like Blogging About Things I Like, in this case – is joyfully indulged.

Flash Fic #7 – Relationship Crisis

“Camera 1, you’re cutting off their heads, wake up. Camera 2, pan slightly right. Camera 3 — where is camera 3, for fuck’s sake?”

The director was pacing around the studio frantically, shouting instructions at anyone who crossed his way. The anchors, William and Linda Gordon, sat at the counter in front of the green screen. 

“Stop touching your hair, Linda!” the make-up artist insisted from behind camera 1. “I spent half an hour getting it right!”

“I’m not gonna ruin it, Paul, relax” she said impatiently, stroking her fringe with care.

“Your hair looks fine, honey” William said, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t know, I think the volume is too scandalous –”

“I wouldn’t be worried about the hair if I was you.”

She froze, midway through stroking the top.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

William glared at her, as though it was obvious. “You’ve been blinking too much.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve been blinking too much?”

“Yeah. While reading the –” he motioned. “– thingie –”

“The teleprompter.”

“Yeah, that.” He saw the expression on her face. “What?”

“You’re criticizing my job and you don’t know that’s a freaking teleprompter?”

He groped for words. “I — I — I just forgot, my mind blanked out –”

“And yesterday I just happened to have an eye itch.” she said bitterly. “But thanks for asking before bashing me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He muttered, rolling his eyes again, not willing to admit defeat. He expected his wife to drag the argument along as usual, but to his surprise, she was concentrated on her notes, like nothing happened.

The director seemed on the verge of a heart attack, slapping camera 2 as if the inanimate object was somehow to blame for the operator’s incompetence. “Ms. Gordon. You film Ms. Gordon. You film only Ms. Gordon. And Mr. Gordon’s shoulder is on the frame. What do you do, then?”

“I — uh — I–”

“You zoom in, you amateur cumstain. Press this button and zoom the fuck in.”

“S — sorry, sir.”

The director pressed his piece against the ear. “How’s your feed?”

The image editor’s voice came through. “Could you tell camera one to zoom out just a bit –”

“CAMERA ONE, DAMN YOU! GET THAT FUCKING ANGLE RIGHT!”

” — thanks, Mortimer. Yeah, we’re go for transmission in five minutes.”

The director clapped as loudly as he could – which was really fucking loud.

“FIVE MINUTES, EVERYONE!!” he announced even louder.

William glanced at Linda, still reading her notes. “You ain’t pissed off, right?”

Linda smiled. “Nah, don’t be silly.”

William smiled back, proceeding to stretch his neck a bit.

“Bill, be careful!” the make-up artist cried, appearing out of nowhere. “Your hair is –”

“My hair is fine, Paul, don’t worry.”

Paul looked at William disapprovingly. “Sure, but if the newspapers say tomorrow your hair looked goofy, I’m the one who’s screwed.”

“You seriously think a newspaper’s going to bother to –” before he could finish, Paul stormed off, muttering something like “nobody understands a true artist” to himself.

“ONE MINUTE!!” The director announced. “Shut up now, folks! Concentrate!”

The studio went gradually silent. The only voice was the occasional whisper and the director keeping up with the image editor. Finally, he counted loudly:

“Ten seconds… five seconds… three… two…”

And in this final second, Linda whispered while scratching her mouth to hide her lips from the cameras: “I’ve been fucking someone else for six months.”

“… one, and we’re on!”

Camera 1 made a establishing shot of both anchors, and the image editor switched the feed to Camera 3, focusing only William – who was staring at Linda in absolute disbelief.

The image editor pressed a button connecting to William’s earpiece. “You’re on, man!”

William blinked, confused, then faced the teleprompter. “Yes. Good evening. Eeeerr — five youths were arrested yesterday as prime suspects of the brutal murder of a –” he suddenly turned to Linda. “Okay, who?”

The director grabbed his own hair. “What the fuck — ?”

“Who what?” Linda asked innocently. “William, we’re on!”

“Who have you been fucking? Tell me!”

The entire studio gasped. The director pressed his earpiece so hard he almost sank it into his skull. “Commercial! Cut to commercial!”

“No fucking way” said the image editor. “This is making YouTube.”

The director stormed off the studio toward the image editing room while Linda stared at William with indignation. “How… how can you imply…”

“You just told me you’ve been fucking someone else for six damn months!”

Another collective gasp. Linda started shouting. “Are you insane?! You’re accusing me of adultery on national television?!”

“You started it, you bitch!”

More gasps. Someone dropped a cup of coffee.

“You’re delusional. Can we go back to the transmission — ?”

“Not until you tell me! Is it Paul?!”

All the eyes in the set turned to a bewildered make-up artist as the director literally kicked the image editing room’s door open. “You fucking prick!!” he yelled at the image editor. “You fucking cut to commercial before I cave your brainless head in!”

The image editor grinned amiably. “C’mon, Mort, this is the funniest thing in –” the director raised his fist. “Okay okay I’ll cut shit fuck okay!”

With the transmission cut off, the director left the room and ran back to the studio only to see William punching the shit out of the make-up artist while two cameramen tried to restrain him.

“WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!” he bellowed, running toward them and kicking William off the make-up artist’s bloody face. 

“Whehe’s mah teeph –” the make-up artist moaned. “he punphed mah teeph off –”

“Get him out of here!!” the director told the cameramen who now had William by the armpits.

“WHY LINDA WHYYYYYYY –” William cried as he was dragged off the place.

Linda, meanwhile, was off-camera and muttering to herself.

“I blink too much, that fucking asshole…”

Anderson’s English Skills

Someone get this guy an interpreter.

Movie Review – Gran Torino

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1205489/

Walt Kowalski (Clint Eastwood) is an old-school old man who dislikes the “youth nowadays” and despises immigrants, to the point of asking a Hmungo girl (or “chink”, as he respectfully calls them) why they moved over to the USA. Grumpy but honored, Kowalski is a man of routine who doesn’t have a good relationship with his son, who treats him as if he’s crippled. That’s when his neighbors, the “chinks”, start getting in trouble with a Hmungo gang and Kowalski ends up involved.

This is the typical “grumpy fuck loosens up gradually” movie, much like “As Good As It Gets” – only Walt Kowalski is a very different character from Jack Nicholson’s. A good but dissastisfied man, he just wants to be left alone with his Gran Torino car and his memories – but the recent passing of his wife made this even more difficult, as his ungrateful relatives won’t stop “subtly” bugging him for his stuff after he dies or suggesting he goes to live in an asylum.

The thing is, Kowalski is by no means a bad man – and I liked him from the moment the movie started. If the intention was to make you hope he’d “get better”, well, I didn’t. In fact, I thought Kowalski was actually kinda reasonable. Grumpy and prejudiced, yes, but quiet. It’s easy to admire him thanks to his sense of honor and his old but fair ways. It’s other people who keep being idiots to him for the entire film. I was kinda feeling, “Yeah, just leave him alone”. It’s almost like EVERYONE in the film is a prick — except Kowalski and two supporting characters, the “chinks” Thao and Sue.

I try not to get too worried about a film’s message — a lot of people tend to overinterpret films and end up creating a huge mess over a single scene. But I can’t help feeling “Gran Torino” tries to get a message across, it just doesn’t know what it IS. The kind of impression I got was “Welcome immigrants to America and help them by any means necessary, for their original countries are Mean and Wrong and America is Good and Fair”. Is that the message? No fucking idea, the movie seems scared to just SAY it, if it is. Also, the script shoehorns a priest into the plot for — no apparent reason, actually. Kowalski tells the priest what he thinks of him — and the words he used were in my opinion accurate — and, well, later he indulges the priest, as if the priest is right after all. But then the PRIEST speaks as if Kowalski is right and well I’m lost. Moving on…

The film is funny. Kowalski is amusing and some of his lines are quite good. And Clint Eastwood, groaning so hard I was worried his throat would just split open, is very suited for the character. As director, he also uses camera angles and movements to portray Kowalski’s feelings, like when his son is trying to convince him to go to a asylum or something and the camera slowly zooms in Kowalski’s face as he grows gradually angrier. The rest of the cast, however, doesn’t keep up with Eastwood – they just limit themselves to being either unlikable or very likable. And Bee Vang – who plays Thao – is staggeringly awful. His intonations, even at quiet scenes, are all wrong – so you can have an idea at the disaster it is when he tries to portray anger or desperation.

With an unlikely ending that drowns the audience in cheap religious symbolism (the position of a body sprawled across the grass), “Gran Torino” is entertaining but doesn’t know what to say. So it says something sloppy and unclear, makes you laugh a bit and ends with Clint Eastwood singing. Despite the latter – a reasonable film.

Movie Review – In Bruges

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0780536/fullcredits#cast

A child being shot in the head is a scene many filmmakers would steer clear from. A child being shot in the head as a dark comedy JOKE is a scene not a single filmmaker I know of would be comfortable with filming. And debut director Martin McDonagh kicked this taboo right in the arse with “In Bruges”, basing the whole plot around a disastrous assassination attempt that causes the collateral death of a kid. The hitman, Ray (Colin Farrell), and his partner-in-crime, Ken (Brendan Gleeson), travel to Bruges, Belgium to keep a low profile while they wait for a call from their tremendously bad-tempered boss (Ralph Fiennes). 

A dark comedy flick with surprisingly poignant scenes, “In Bruges” is funny thanks especially to its characters. Despite being hitmen, Ray and Ken are far from the cold-minded stereotype. Ray is brutally shaken by what he did, while Ken tries keeping him steady – but the fact Ray hates Bruges doesn’t help. In fact, I wonder what Martin McDonagh told Bruges’ government this film would be about in order to convince them to film in it, since the movie fucks so much with the city and the entire country that by the time they saw the flick it must’ve already been in theatres, as a satisfied Martin McDonagh waved a hand full of money at them and shouted “Tossers!”.

For example, when Ray tells a girl he met in Bruges a joke about Belgium: “What’s the relationship between Belgian chocolate and the kid abuse? They only invented the chocolate so they could get to the kids.” So, either Bruges’ government has a pretty fucking sporting sense of humor…

Anyway, it’s not just Bruges McDonagh pokes fun at, oh no. The movies’ best scenes involve American tourists (“This is for John Lennon, you Yankee fucking cunt!”) and a midget – no, not even them escape McDonagh’s aim. And I applaud him for skullfucking the ridiculous concept of “politically correct” – the director doesn’t give a shit what offends you. This is a dark comedy flick that never tries softening its own morbid jokes and that’s what makes it so brilliant, right down to the SUBLIME ending (“The… little… boy!”).

Another aspect of “In Bruges” McDonagh nails is the dialogue, which is full of priceless gems like Fiennes’ rant about “how could someone not like being in Bruges?”. And it’s surprising, how the film manages to be funny and, at the same time, successfully dramatic. It was a joy to see this film being nominated for Best Original Screenplay in the Academy Awards – it’s too brave and brilliant not to be.

As director, McDonagh is efficient and avoids showing off, despite this being his first feature film. He keeps the focus on the characters and on the city, exploiting the location as much as possible thanks also to director of photography Eigil Bryld’s competent job. Much like the script, McDonagh doesn’t hold back from showing violence and even making fun of it, like on the scene the kid is shot: he just stands there, looking up in disbelief at the bullethole in his head, and then falls over.

The cast was brilliantly chosen and directed – Colin Farrell is at his best as Ray. Never TRYING to be funny, Farrell instead plays the character with enormous weight and grimness – which is exactly why his outbursts are hilarious. Brendan Gleeson is equally brilliant, sharing a scene with Ralph Fiennes in a restaurant that had me laughing uncontrollably (“Yeah, I fucking GOT that.”). And it’s him, Fiennes, who stands out with his bad temper. Playing a character very different from others he’s interpreted in the past, he is completely comfortable as the boss – his face when a guard repeatedly pokes his forehead is priceless. The supporting cast is no less talented. Jordan Prentice is impeccable as the midget Jimmy and the beautiful Clémence Poésy is likeable and cute. 

I’m biased, I admit: I’m a fan of dark comedy. But still, how I wish more films would be as brave as “In Bruges”.

Joaquin Phoenix Is A Rapper Now, Starts Career By Falling Off Stage

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/thedishrag/2009/01/joaquin-phoenix.html

I know this is CELEBRITY NEWS, which I horrendously dislike — but I like Joaquin Phoenix, I think he’s a good actor. So, what the fuck is THIS?

And down he goes…

I understand this is what he likes. I know he says he likes the storytelling aspect of hip-hop. But where does it say he likes the hopping-like-a-bunny-on-crack aspect or the walking-like-he’s-just-been-cornholed aspect?

Well… best of luck, Joaquin. But I can’t help wishing you’ll go back to movies. As soon as possible.