Happy Halloween From Someone Who Lives In A Country That Completely Ignores It

First of all, I apologise for the lack of updates. I’ve been — no, seriously, I have a good excuse this time — I’ve been busy writing a children’s play and — DON’T GO AWAY FUCKING LISTEN I seriously wrote a fucking children’s play and even added some musical bits because I am an insane jackass.

I have an upcoming review for “UP” and a new flash fiction that should be published on Weaponizer soon (probably all my fiction will be there from now on, with a link here — oh stop whining, hypothetical-reader-who-actually-gives-a-shit-about-my-fiction, it’s only a click away).

Regular updating shall return in a day or so. Until then, a happy Halloween to you. Enjoy yourself.

(And kick some kids for me. Hey, they’re dressed as scary things, you can tell the police they startled you and you kicked them by accident)

Logical Next Step

The Music Of James Macfadzean

The consistency of James’ seven available songs and the talent in them are amazing. My favorite is “Better Uses”, and all of them can be listened here. Enjoy.

Browsers

Comic Review – Punisher: Frank Castle #75, The Walking Dead #66 and Gravel #14

So. Apparently, this is the end of Punisher Max, or Punisher: Frank Castle, or Punisher: vol. 23 or whatever it is Marvel is calling this comic these days. On Garth Ennis’ run, I think it was Punisher Max, but they decided to add the “Frank Castle” on the title for no good reason. And apparently, the new “Punisher” title will be reset to issue one and will be called…

“Punisher Max.”

I quit this shit.

Anyway. Issue 75. Five writers, five artists, five stories, acceptable results. None of the stories are great — some are good, some are overly sappy. Let’s go one by one:

The first story, “Dolls”, is written by Tom Piccirilli with art by Laurence Campbell and colors by Lee Loughridge. The premise is interesting — Frank Castle is interrupted when he’s about to execute someone with a sniper rifle. The interruption consists of a little girl who got lost in the streets and needs help finding her father. Castle decides to help her before carrying out the execution, to avoid doing it in front of her.

Not that that would have been a real obstacle. He could have simply asked her to close her eyes. Then he’d kill the bastard with the silenced rifle and help her. Instead, he decides to do it after finding her dad — and upon doing this, he uses his shoulder as a support for the rifle and kills the bastard anyway. Which kind of invalidates the whole point of the story, which, nevertheless, has some good moments — like a poignant flashback shot of a doll fallen on grass. Still, in a certain moment of the story, Castle says, “All little girls should have wonderful birthday parties.”

Let’s put it this way:

“All little girls should have wonderful birthday parties” – Frank Castle, aka The Punisher.

Doesn’t really work, does it?

Still, Laurence Campbell’s art is vastly superior to his previous efforts (Punisher #61 – #65, a horrendous arc written by Gregg Hurwitz), and has some memorable panels and very good coloring by Lee Loughridge, so visually, at least, the story works well.

The second story, “Gateway”, is written by Gregg Hurwitz, with art entirely by Das Pastoras. Surprisingly — considering Hurwitz is responsible for the worst arc in this series — the story is very well balanced. It deals with a “middleman” who believes himself to be nothing but a tool, despite knowing perfectly well he’s helping known criminals comission hits. I especially like the one-way conversation between Frank and a friend, with Frank lying on a hospital bed. It gets the point across without being melodramatic.

Das Pastoras’ art has several highlights, but his art is far too colorful, almost appropriate for a children’s book. That, and some panels are plain mediocre (like the last one, which has a very badly drawn Punisher). Still, all in all, his art is pleasing to the eye.

The third story, “Ghoul”, is by Duane Swierczinsky, with art by Tomm Coker and colors by Dan Freedman. The idea is excellent — a man has gotten hold of the Castle family’s possessions on the day they were attacked during the picnic which Frank was the only survivor of. This same man is selling this stuff online for outrageous prices — until Castle finds out and decides to do something about it. But unlike the first story, “Dolls” — which is a good idea badly-executed — Swierczinsky develops the plot very well, his only moment of weakness being the scene the man says “Oh, God” and Castle replies with a cliche, “It’s not God”. Despite this brief flaw, the story is good and Tomm Coker’s heavily shadowed art, darkly-colored by Dan Freedman, is very suitable and aesthetically efficient.

The fourth story, “Father’s Day”, is by Peter Milligan with art by Goran Parlov and colors by Lee Loughridge. It’s basically the highlights of Garth Ennis’ run, with a caption reading a letter from Castle’s daughter, Lisa, to him. This could have worked very well if it wasn’t for the letter — which is not convincing as the work of a little girl. In some moments, she displays childish writing, in others she uses metaphors (her references to what’s “in the dark”). Also, Milligan tries too hard to touch the reader’s heart strings — something the last page, in my case, accomplished, but this is because of Goran Parlov’s art.

Goran Parlov is one of this series’ best artists, a genius regarding visual storytelling and facial expressions. In the last page of this story, he and Lee Loughridge simply own. Castle is riddled by bullets, badly-injured and near-death, but his face, instead of expressing despair or pain, shows simply disillusionment — like Castle is slowly realizing that a long, normal life with his family was, after all, simply too good to be true. That is a beautiful page, and while it’s mostly Parlov, Milligan deserves credit too, even though the rest of the story is weak (except, of course, for Parlov and Loughridge’s beautiful art).

And finally, there’s “Smallest Bit Of This”, by Charlie Huston, with art by Ken Lashley, inks by Rob Stull and colors by Edgar Delgado. Utter waste of time. Huston simply shows Castle fighting a guy after a long firefight, adding some pseudo-meaningful captions. Ken Lashley’s art is terrible (the only example of bad art in this issue), so there isn’t much Stull and Delgado can do. The only truly bad story in this issue.

Also — I know it’s a sneak peek, but I have to comment on the Punisher Max #1 preview — Steve Dillon’s art is beautiful as always, and it’s wonderful to see it colored by the excellent Matt Hollingsworth — not only because he’s a brilliant colorist, but because it brings me warm memories of “Preacher” (my all-time favorite comic and blah blah blah you know the drill by now).

What bothered me here is that writer Jason Aaron is apparently going for a Max version of the Kingpin. I’ll save my final thoughts for the complete story, obviously, but so far? Pathetic. I hate this shortcut: using established characters and changing them to adequate the mood of your story, instead of creating your own character. And the idea behind Aaron’s plot (the creation of a fake target for the Punisher) would have been good enough to work without the Kingpin. But hey… too early to judge.

“Punisher: Frank blah-blah-whatever #75″ has its ups and downs, but on average, it’s worth a read. The art is more consistent than the writing, but the writing itself, except for Huston, is not bad — at most, it’s flawed, and at best, it’s fine. The whole thing is very efficiently lettered by the competent Cory Petit — especially the caligraphy used in Lisa’s letter, on “Father’s Day”, which looks handmade but is still very readable.

(an extra note — each story’s individual credits should have included the colorist, and it’s ridiculous their work has been neglected despite being vital for the visual of the stories. In order to see who colored each one, you have to go back to the first page and check the credits — and meanwhile, the writer and the artist are credited in each story)

“The Walking Dead #66″ wraps up this arc quite well, despite one recurring problem in Kirkman’s writing — overusing splash pages. In this case, double page spreads, one of them used simply to show Rick giving an order. And in that same panel, Adlard decides to go Eduardo Risso on us and signs the panel, something I always found ruins the immersion.

Despite the exaggeration, though, the story is well-written. It wasn’t exactly clear what they do to the villain, though — apparently they torture him, which is inconsistent with Rick saying they did not like doing that. If they didn’t, they could have just shot him dead. The rest of the plot has several good moments, however — I especially like how Kirkman inverted expectations regarding the conversation between Dale and Rick. I really don’t have much else to say, though — “The Walking Dead” remains on the same writing standard of the last issues. As I’ve already stated, this series is lacking impact, and this issue has not changed my opinion. The way Kirkman uses double-page spreads twice just on this episode hints at the possibility of him being aware of this, but trying to solve it the wrong way — trying to force impact on something that isn’t that impactful.

Despite signing his artwork twice in this issue (I don’t like when Risso does it either), Charlie Adlard’s art is beautiful as always. He’s especially successful at shadowing, and even though the double page spreads are unnecessary, Adlard renders them amazingly well. Cliff Rathburn’s grey tones add visual depth to Adlard’s work, but I wonder how well his art would stand on pure black-and-white. However, letterer Rus Wooton has ups and downs — I like the font he uses, but I don’t like how he makes the balloons jagged to denote shouting, instead of increasing the font size — a much more efficient method.

“Gravel #14″ wraps up a “meh” story arc. This has been a formulaic plot, schematic and most of all, unremarkable. The previous issue left so little impression in me I thought, upon reading this one, that I had missed it.

This one, though, has some highlights, since it’s a climactic conclusion. I like how Gravel turns the entire city against his enemies, and Mike Wolfer and Warren Ellis’ dialogue is always interesting enough, but I’m afraid that’s it. I know it sounds like I’m too tired to write a proper review, but the truth is I found “The Walking Dead #66″ to be more of the same (which is not necessarily bad, considering it’s a good series) and “Gravel #14″ is simply the end of a frankly boring story arc. It’s just “alright”. All I’ve said about previous issues, from the writing, to the art, to the colors — is still valid, so I’m afraid repeating everything would be an exercise in pointlessness.

Movie Review – Inglourious Basterds

Quentin Tarantino is one of my favorite filmmakers, not only because his filmography, despite short, is so competent, but because he defends the same thing I do when it comes to filmmaking: he’s watched how people used to do movies, he plucked the good bits and incorporated them into his own style. He’s an old-school filmmaker, and considering new-school basically consists of a million cuts per second and shaky cameras, I’ll stick with Tarantino, thanks.

“Inglourious Basterds”, though, is not his magnum opus. In fact, this is the first film in Tarantino’s career where Tarantino actually becomes his own enemy. Oh, don’t get me wrong: “Inglourious Basterds” is GOOD. But in all of Tarantino’s previous films, I could watch them and later think to myself “This was a great film”, while this one came with a footnote: “except for a few Tarantino-esque problems”.

The film follows three storylines: the Basterds, an American squad famous for wearing Nazi uniforms (and for their Nazi-killing methods) and currently infiltrated behind enemy lines; Shosanna, a young French girl who survived the massacre of her family and now owns a theatre in Nazi-occupied Paris; and SS Colonel Hans Landa, who carried out the massacre — and many others, which is why he owns the nickname “The Jew Hunter”. These narratives intertwine when Shosanna’s theatre is chosen to host the premiére of Goebbels’ new movie — an event the Nazi high-command will be attending, making the theatre one big fat target for the Basterds and one big fat revenge opportunity for Shosanna. Only it might be a serious problem to both of them, because it’s Landa who’s responsible for the theatre’s security.

Let’s start with Landa, who is, hands down, the best thing in the movie and one of the best — perhaps the best — character in Tarantino’s career, which is saying a lot. An almost disturbingly well-mannered Nazi, elegant and pleasant until he’s got you by the balls. Christoph Waltz (in his first role in an American film) plays him to absolute perfection, from his louder moments (his insane laugh) to much subtler ones (the careful, meticulous way he eats a dessert). The scene where he meets the Basterds during the premiére actually had me choking out of laughter, and fortunately this isn’t the only inspired moment in the film. The meeting between a Gestapo officer and three of the Basterds in a bar is superbly-written and filmed, and it contains an absolutely brilliant moment regarding “King Kong”. And of course, any scene Landa is in fails to disappoint.

Brad Pitt also deserves applause for understanding so well what Tarantino was going for and embracing it bravely: caricature. Lt. Aldo Raine is a total redneck, something Pitt manages to portray even when speaking other languages (something hilariously shown during the premiére scene) but without ever overacting or trying to be funny — he just turns into Aldo Raine, simple as that. Til Schweiger, playing yet another Nazi* (he is a Nazi before he is recruited by the Basterds), doesn’t do a lot of talking, but does shine in the Gestapo scene (in fact, everyone in that scene puts on a show). And as much as I detest Eli Roth as a filmmaker, I have to hand it to the guy: the moment he tries to convince someone he’s Italian by making an extremely cliche Italian gesture makes his appearance in this film worth it. As Fredrich Zoller, Daniel Bruhl does a great job in making the character annoying even in his moments of humanity — which is actually the point. Diane Kruger wisely distances herself from her inexpressive role (if I can actually call that guest appearance a “role”) as Helen in “Troy” by playing Bridget Von Hammersmark with intensity, and Mélanie Laurent — I might be biased because I fell in love with her but she’s very good as well, especially after she accidentally meets with Landa and, after he leaves, it’s like she’s breathing for the first time since he arrived.

* October 18th update: I am not sure how I accomplished this, but I seem to have confused Til Schweiger with Thomas Kretschmann, the latter being the one who has played a lot of nazis in his career. Sorry about this. For reference, Til Schweiger played the protagonist of Uwe Boll’s “Far Cry” — not a good reference, no.

With such an excellent cast and a brilliant script, what actually stops “Inglourious Basterds” from being Tarantino’s best film — aside from the sheer difficulty of topping “Reservoir Dogs” and “Pulp Fiction” — is Tarantino’s job as director. While he is careful to make sure most of his trademarks (like a fixation for feet, which I, mm, also have) are vital for the story and not just pointless self-reference, some of his habits do slip through. In this case, the use of existing music. This is a film that needed a composer, because Tarantino does not hesitate to punctuate some scenes with music that is some times well-used (the scene where Shosanna escapes from Colonel Landa) or badly-used (the scene between Shosanna and Zoller in a projection room). And while “Inglourious Basterds” is never a dull film, some scenes do stretch for too long and needed a more dynamic pace, which might be due to Tarantino falling too much in love with his dialogue — which is excellent, yes, but not a reason to make a two-minute conversation into a ten-minute one. Also, this is the second time I’ve seen Tarantino go for the melodramatic, in the aforementioned scene between Zoller and Shosanna in the projection room — aside from the music, Tarantino also uses slow-motion — to very good aesthetic result, but emotionally it just falls flat, and the scene had all the potential in the world not to.

(The first time I’ve seen Tarantino go for the melodramatic was in Jackie Brown, in the scene Max Cherry sees her for the first time and romantic music plays in the background)

However, Tarantino is becoming, more and more, a brilliant visual storyteller and flawless in the composition of his shots. There is a particularly beautiful frame that shows Shosanna running away, seen through an open door — which Colonel Landa passes through, obscuring the view in an accurate symbol of what he would mean to her for the rest of her life. And Tarantino’s conversation scenes aren’t just interesting because of the dialogue and the actors, but because the editing is precise (despite the slow pacing) and the shots well-framed. But what Tarantino is really good at is humor, and “Inglourious Basterds” is a histerically funny film at times — it never strikes the same high note emotionally, but when it comes to comedy the movie is pure win. Whenever I think of the scene between Landa and the Basterds in the premiére I start chuckling, and Brad Pitt himself, an actor with excellent comic timing, never misses a joke (I especially like his short monologue about fighting in basements). Tarantino also deserves credit for incorporating so many languages into the film, and even having characters speaking on different languages to confuse each other.

And when I think about how the movie had emotional potential that is never pulled off, I think of the movie’s ending and realize this wasn’t really the point. Tarantino just wanted to kill some nazis. To have fun portraying Hitler as a caricature that is based more on Chaplin’s Adenoyd Hynkel than on the real man, to do a war movie in Tarantino fashion, and for it to be enjoyable. And he pulled that off. “Inglourious Basterds” is a memorable film. It could have been memorable as a whole, not just for a few scenes and a great character, but as it is, it’s a memorable film nonetheless.

PS: I have the habit of reading trivia and goofs in imdb.com. Here’s a bit from this film’s goof section. “Revealing mistakes: At the beginning of the film the Gentile’s daughter is hanging sheets on the line to dry; however, the sheet she is securing to the line is already dry (it isn’t wet).”

Wow! Thank fuck for the thoughtful addition in parenthesis, eh?

Weaponizer

I have had a flash fic published in Weaponizer. It’s called “Here We Go Again” and I intend for it to be the first submission of many. My all-time favorite story being “Preacher”, of course my first story for Weaponizer had to be about poking fun at Christian beliefs.

Due to lack of time, I am not into the habit of reading online fiction myself (ironic, yes, I know), but the website is so well-designed, so comfortable and the fiction seems so genuinely good I’ll find myself some free time for it.

Thanks to Bram E. Gieben (aka Texture) for publishing the story.

Hope you like it.

Interrogation – Final Part

Comic Review – (Oh fuck…!) The Boys #35, Crossed #07, Chronicles Of Wormwood: The Last Battle #01, Absolution #02, Astonishing X-Men 31, Planetary #27

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Well, there had to be a downside to this great week of comics — that being the fact I’ll start writing now and finish in four hours if I’m lucky.

Darick Robertson has apparently been found and chained back to his desk, and hopefully they won’t let him have the key this time. His art, which on its usual level is superior to Carlos Ezquerra’s and John McCrea’s, in this issue is simply stellar. And ironically, this episode barely has any action — it’s basically a long piece about Mother’s Milk’s life, which explains why he’s called Mother’s Milk.

To be honest, I had figured it out way back, on the issue that shows him getting on a cab after meeting his mother, and needing to stop so he could vomit. And Ennis, wisely, does not go for the gross-out factor here. The revelation of Mother’s Milk’s problem is sober and actually makes a lot of sense (aside from giving the character a potentially bad future — or, to put it better, no future at all).

But what really makes this issue stand out is that part of it is very compelling courtroom drama — in twenty-two pages, Ennis manages to introduce several characters, have them leave a strong impression (I particularly liked Milk’s father) and then end their participation in the story. Even though this arc will be continued next issue, Ennis covers a lot of Milk’s life here, and does so brilliantly, with his tipically excellent dialogue — one line that is especially great is said by Mother’s Milk himself: “Fuckin’ war cry of every goddamn corporation on the planet: you’re right, we’re wrong, so sue us.” Ennis’ ability with dialogue is vital for the story, considering it’s mostly just that — balloons and more balloons of dialogue. Fortunately, very good dialogue.

But Mother’s Milk is not narrating his life story to Hughie just for the sake of it: his life’s events clearly interlace with Vought American’s to incriminating degrees, which is important considering Hughie has been losing faith in The Boys and needs a reminder of what they’re up against. At the same time, Mother’s Milk and Billy Butcher, intelligence men through and through, refuse to let Hughie know everything right away, saving the information for when it’ll be most useful. Which is why Hughie’s question about Mallory is practically ignored.

Completing Ennis’ writing to the point of perfection, Darick Robertson delivers beautiful art I’m not sure he’ll manage to keep up. His work has always been at the very least good, but very inconsistent and especially problematic when other artists came to join a hand — which will always be a problem considering I’m so used to Robertson’s art at this point. I still think he would do very well to partner up with Rodney Ramos, who makes his work shine even more — as two or three Ramos-inked pages of issue 11 (if I’m not mistaken) proved.

Regardless of the future, Robertson’s art in “The Boys #35″ is not only brilliant from a visual storytelling standpoint — and really, Robertson is always good at that — but it’s especially exceptional at depicting facial expressions. The fact Milk wears sunglasses does not diminish his visual displays of emotion, and his shocked face after he punches someone in a flashback is pitch-perfect. And although the scenery in Robertson’s art is always sketchier than characters, the initial page of this issue, depicting the bridge being re-built, is breathtaking in a strangely serene way.

Color artist Tony Avina matches Robertson’s work with his competent coloring — the only complaint I have is how Hughie’s hair rarely differs too much from his shaven skin. Okay, Hughie is almost bald, but he’s not completely bald and this should be adressed but oh fuck it the colors are so pretty regardless. Avina doesn’t even go for the typical cliche of changing the color palette in flashback scenes because he knows Ennis’ neat narrative eliminates the need for that.

And finally, letterer Simon Bowland deals with the large number of balloons in this story without a single problem, doing a decent job of changing font sizes and not interfering with Robertson’s art, although it must be said Robertson is extremely mindful of balloon placement and, without sacrificing the visual composition, always leaves some dead space on his panels to make the letterer’s job possible.

At this point I’m not sure I can even call “The Boys” a superhero story. It grew out of it and it’s become a drama about corporate power with a touch of dark humor that happens to have superheroes in it.

And oh God I’m 770 words in and I’ve still got five books to review –

The main group is now being actively pursued by a gang of Crossed whose leader, called Horsecock because that’s his choice of weaponry, has harbored a grudge against them. This particular gang is not as aimless as the others and are capable of using their intelligence within their own uncontrollable urges to be as brutal and evil as they possibly can. Which makes them particularly threatening: throughout the series, the Crossed have been an extremely dangerous enemy — and now, they’re an organized enemy with a grudge.

“Crossed” has been a very straightforward series, which is one of its many strengths. A considerable amount of time passes between every issue, something reflected by the seasons and the visual of the main characters, especially Stan, the series’ protagonist and narrator. The fact so much time has passed since issue one only augments the power of the scene when the main characters finally go on the offensive instead of the defensive, and revel in the cathartic slaughter.

However, this comes at an incredibly expensive price. What happens in this issue was far from unpredictable, but the way Ennis writes the scene hits an excellent balance — he avoids gratuitous gruesomeness while not sparing the reader from the brutality of the moment. A scene which once again shows the impressive consistency of the characters — especially the one who is affected the most by the event that takes place in this episode.

All characters are coherent within their personalities, but never unidimensional. I was particularly pleased at the way Brett is a prick when talking to Stan, but mostly reasonable when talking to everyone else. Kitrick also steals the scene on the latter half of the issue, and it’s very believable, how Stan and Cindy are practically reading each other’s minds at this point.

The art by Jacen Burrows is — pretty much the same from all previous issues. Which is to say magnificent. It’s interesting how all three of the Ennis’ books I’m reviewing this week are not only beautifully-drawn, but especially good at facial expressions. And the look on the face of a character as they do what is no doubt the most painful thing they’ve ever done is nothing short of superb: it manages to express pain and disgust in a single, heartbreaking look. Burrows’ ability at drawing scenery remains absolutely impressive, and I could care less about the fact he rarely uses shadows — his style doesn’t need it. Juanmar’s colours are, however, no more than passable, and the way night-time scenes are colored is dull to say the least. There’s also a mistake: on a panel, Stan’s half-open mouth is colored in a brown tone instead of teeth-white.

Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” is a clear influence for Garth Ennis (who is a fan of McCarthy, after all), and he’s putting it to good use. “Crossed” is a beautifully bleak tale so far, one that, like everything Ennis writes somehow, I’m always looking forward to the next issue.

1270 words, another four books, keep it up, Andre, keep it up…

Ah, this is good.

This might be exceedingly obvious to anyone who reads my reviews regularly (which is to say no-one, and I think I should be grateful for that), but I loved “Chronicles of Wormwood”, and I liked the sequel “The Last Enemy” despite Rob Steen’s artwork, which was so, so horrendous he probably made it by sticking the butt of the pencil in his eyeball and moving it around the paper.

But “The Last Battle” not only keeps up the excellent writing standards of the series, it also brings in the very talented Oscar Jimenez, whose art could use LESS details, but he’s far from being a Juan Jose “let’s draw five tons of debris flying out from a punch on someone’s face” Ryp. His visual storytelling, scenery and (you guessed it) facial expressions are impeccable, especially the moment Wormwood receives some shocking news — the look on his face is perfect to the point of causing laughter, and I love the angle Jimenez chooses to depict it (the same angle he chooses for the person who delivers said news, which is a great narrative rhyme). And strangely, in this comic, Juanmar’s colours are fucking excellent, especially the just-mentioned scene about Wormwood receiving the news — while the person who delivers the news is covered in bright sunlight, Wormwood is covered in shadows, which perfectly symbolizes the very distinct meanings those news have for each of them.

As for Ennis, well, this is Ennis on his adorable “dark humor” mode, which prioritizes comedy and succeeds. The talking bunny is as great as it’s always been, and the dialogue is priceless (the talk show with Carnovitz’s wife is absolutely hilarious). And I love how Wormwood, during a particularly difficult moment, uses his typical introduction “I am Danny Wormwood, blah blah blah” to convey just how fucked he is, although here the lettering screws up by not joining caption and balloon properly (I rarely mention lettering in Avatar books since it’s usually decent and consistent, plus it’s an uncredited group effort, but this was too noticeable a mistake not to notice).

I can’t really say more because I am just blatantly sucking Ennis’ cock at this point. I think you get it. Three very, very good books. Buy them.

Aaaaaah 1660 words aaaaaaah still three books left aaaaAAAAAAAAAH–

– Aaaaabsolution #02. Haha, see what I did there? Why, yes, I AM very tired.

This series started off promising, despite being a double cliche (cop with mental issues, also a superhero). I’m happy to say it has raised its quality standard in this issue, already starting with a brilliant splash page, drawn magnificently well by Roberto Viacava (who has improved immensely too). The story intelligently makes it difficult to agree or disagree with the protagonist’s methods — he’s turning into a monster, but to put down other monsters the law can’t touch, and Christos Gage is portraying his mental downfall very well by not having him completely realize what he’s doing. It’s disturbing how easily he lies about it, and his increasingly cruel methods of execution.

And execution is the strength of “Absolution”. As I said, no matter how many spins you apply, this story isn’t original by any stretch, but it is, so far, well-told. A particularly excellent scene is when Gage and Viacava illustrate how many super-powered beings could be responsible for the “bullet-less hole” method of execution the protagonist has been using. And while religious subplots tipically annoy me, here it’s introduced as a half-assed excuse he uses to justify his own actions.

The dialogue and the characters are believable, if not original or even too interesting — but there’s still plenty of room for that in future issues.

Viacava’s art, as I already mentioned, has gone from “decent” to “just short of spectacular”. For most of the issue, it’s excellent. On splash pages, it’s fantastic. There is a double page spread that is simply flawless: dynamic, intense and detailed without using action lines or any other cheap techniques. Viacava also shows great ability for visual storytelling, and an even greater ability for action scenes. He should make sure that regardless of where “Absolution” goes, it’ll be a pretty book. The colours by Juanm — er, Digikore Studios are efficient, but not impressive.

“Absolution” is well on its way to explore its full potential, even if it’s limited by an unoriginal premise.

2000 words, two books to go, bed has developed a voice and is calling me incessantly –

It’s interesting, how this week has showed Warren Ellis at his worst and at his absolute best. Let’s start by the former. “Astonishing X-Men 31″ has the typical Ellis problem I mentioned in previous issues of this series — overly clever dialogue that sounds way more concerned about entertaining the reader than actually being coherent. There’s several examples: Abigail Brand wisecrackingly talking to herself, Henry McCoy making a very trivial comment about the possibility of losing his girlfriend (while she’s still in danger), Emma Frost dropping one-liners –it’s just Ellis talking. He’s not worried about making each character sound like themselves and this is a serious problem.

Another problem is that this whole issue is pretty much a prologue for the actual story, since it deals entirely with the X-Men trying to rescue Brand as she enters the Earth’s atmosphere in an uncontrolled vehicle. And that wouldn’t be a problem if the rescue was believable, which it isn’t, even for a superhero book. I do not think Storm can fly at Mach Fucking-Hell alongside a falling spaceship with no trouble at all, and Wolverine’s and Armor’s high-altitude acrobatics aren’t less exaggerated.

Don’t get me wrong: it’s an entertaining issue. But the writing is shallow at best and not what I expect from Ellis.

Phil Jimenez’s art, on the other hand, is beautiful and inventive, and richly inked by Andy Lanning. In fact, if it wasn’t for the great artwork, this issue would probably be very dull. Frank D’Armata’s colouring manages to be as good as Jimenez and Lanning, making for a visually fantastic issue, at least. Joe Caramagna’s lettering is decent, despite having one instance of confusing balloon placement (the one after “She says it’s not enough…”, although you can’t tell which one comes after it at first — hence the bad balloon placement).

Dull writing, great art, acceptable issue, but instantly forgettable.

My fingers might be going numb, but fuck it — the next book is a book I’ve been wanting to read and review for a long time, so I won’t even lower the image size much:

Fuck. Yes.

“Planetary” is Warren Ellis at his best. It’s a series very close to my heart. It’s superbly written, drawn and colored. Issue #25 — read while listening to Pink Floyd’s “The Great Gig In The Sky” — sparked the mental image that inspired the novel I’m currently writing. And issue #18 is one of the best single issues of any comic I’ve ever read, a beautiful, nostalgic piece.

Shame issue #27 is such a disappointment.

…

I’m fucking joking, you idiot. It’s magnificent.

It concerns the last loose end in the story — Ambrose, the Planetary operative with physics-bending powers who seemingly froze time around himself when he was about to die from gunshot wounds. In order to set up his rescue, Elijah Snow, Jakita Wagner and The Drummer must get around the complicated theories regarding time travel and find a way to bring him back from the frozen time bubble — which will resume time and bleed him out from the wounds if he’s not treated immediately.

Said theories are presented by Ellis in a way that is easy to understand without insulting our intelligence, and they’re fascinating. I especially love how The Drummer mentions a time machine can only go back to the past until the point it was switched on — because before then, the time machine didn’t exist (this being a time machine that does not teleport itself with the person inside it, but only the person inside it). But Ellis does not introduce all those theories only to show off — they all play a part in building up to the superb ending, which is so well-written and epic I could practically hear a Howard Shore-esque score in my head.

It’s science-gasm, and very well-written science-gasm. But Ellis doesn’t overlook his characters, and gives Jakita Wagner a brief moment of insecurity regarding her future. And the discussions between Elijah and Drums regarding the dangerous activation of a time machine (to put it simplistically, every time traveler from the future coming to take a look and collapsing all dimensional realities) not only are vital for the story, but are written in a way that show the respect they’ve grown for one another over time.

John Cassaday works so well with Ellis that saying he’s practically an extension of Ellis’ brain would be… terribly unfair. Cassaday shines by his own. The beauty of his composition, shadowing, his unique style — all of that is unparalleled. He’s a genius with subtleties, especially, something particularly noticeable by the panels showing reactions from Elijah, Jakita and Drummer simultaneously — while Jakita and Drummer are visibly shocked or impressed, Elijah is quieter, like he knows something they don’t. This is very clear on the panel after they finally manage to get a visual on the bubble Ambrose is inside of — Elijah’s face expresses not only concern, but quiet awe at what he’s seeing.

And the splash pages, well — Cassaday’s unbelievable talent for them is pretty well established at this point, and he doesn’t come even close to disappointing here. Laura Martin, this series’ wonderful colorist, delivers a brilliant palette of golden tones that are both beautiful and evocative. The splash page showing someone walking out of the light is a clear example of How To Fucking Colour A Comic — and it’s ironic that the colours on that page are simple — which is the reason it works so well.

It’s over. And what an ending. I take my hat off to Warren Ellis, John Cassaday and Laura Martin, and thank them for one of the most well-plotted, beautiful-looking and downright clever series I’ve had the pleasure of reading. “Planetary” utterly captures that feeling of awe and wonder I like so much.

It’s a strange world indeed.

And now, time for me to pass out bfore i cam no long er typ oh sht ho sht fukc dmnit

Movie Review – District 9

(This review might refer to a few plot points that you might prefer not to know until you watch the film, although it tries to avoid explicit spoilers, so if you want to stop here, let me sum up: I did not like “District 9″)

A huge spaceship has appeared in Johannesburg, floating over the city. Human beings board it and find incredibly generic-looking aliens who must have taken about five minutes of work from this movie’s design department. They look like prawns, so the humans start calling them, of course, prawns. They’re malnourished and in need of refuge until they can return to their home planet. However, this proves to be a difficult task for… some reason the movie doesn’t bother answering, and if it did it was amidst so much other exposition I couldn’t catch it. I think it has to do with the Prawns being an advanced civilization who has mastered interestellar (or possibly intergalactic) travel but are not above acting like obnoxious cavemen when interacting with human beings. So, the aliens start living on District 9, which over the course of the next twenty years, becomes a slum.

All of this is depicted through a documentary style that the movie uses not as a clever narrative device, but as an easy way of dropping tons of exposition on the viewer without having to bother with things like “subtlety”, “narrative economy” or “immersion”. In fact, one character tries to convince us of this film’s originality by saying (I’m paraphrasing) “this spaceship has appeared not in New York, but in Johannesburg”. Director Neill Blomkamp might as well have included a shot of himself winking to the audience and saying “See what I did there?”

This documentary style could have worked as an introduction, but the entire film uses it — whenever there is a camera, no matter if it’s a camera a character is using, a security camera or a camera mounted on someone’s gun, director Neill Blomkamp cuts to it, no matter how ridiculous or out-of-place it looks — which is particularly painful when it comes to the gun-mounted cameras.

In fact, Blomkamp’s camerawork makes Peter Berg look like a genius. He’s apparently not aware there’s such revolutionary techniques like tripods and steadicams and instead he uses Parkinson’s-Disease-camera for the entire film. Even when the protagonist is talking on a cellphone, sitting down, completely still, simply quiet, not moving at all — Blomkamp films from a distance, with a zoom — and the camera shakes so bad the protagonist goes from the center of the shot to having half his body cropped by the right side of the frame and then back to the center of the shot again. Hell, in the scene the restrained protagonist is refusing to kill an alien, an actor actually obstructs the fucking frame and Blomkamp takes his time cutting to another angle.

The director is also completely lost when it comes to timing — the movie just speeds forward like Blomkamp is afraid the theater will explode if something intense doesn’t happen onscreen for two or three minutes. And I already mentioned subtlety isn’t his strength either, but a more specific example is still needed: on the same cellphone scene I just mentioned, the protagonist’s reaction to being rejected by a character is trying to cut his own arm off, which, even under his extraordinary circumstances, is excessive to say the least.

Mind you, the protagonist is a total idiot, and the movie knows this — after all, he’s being hunted by the authorities and yet he keeps using his cellphone (he does refrain from answering the question “where are you?”, but I think this is because he did not actually know where he was). However, he is also unlikeable and inconsistent. In the beginning of the film, he’s being a dick to the Prawns, but in the middle of it he’s shocked by the notion of killing one.

In fact, all characters in this movie are unlikeable, and the ones Blomkamp means for us not to like, he really means, going as far as to have them laugh cruelly. The most extreme example is when Blomkamp focuses on two of them eating a Prawn’s body part and chewing wildly like gorillas on amphetamines.

Because, as it must be clear by now, “District 9″ is a very badly-written film. The dialogue is simplistic (“I’m not fucking like them.”) and the film’s attempts at humor are out-of-place and simply bad — the scene the protagonist finds out he’s been accused of having sex with a Prawn is illustrated by a still shot during a news program, showing him fucking a Prawn out in the open — and if this is a satire of Fox News or something, it should have taken a backseat to the movie’s tone and story.

But it’s not just that — when the protagonist is captured and becomes a test subject, the scientists are incredibly cruel to him, even though they need his cooperation. And for the love of sheer common sense, how did they expect to perform complicated surgery on him without an anaesthetic? Did they think he’d stay still while they opened his chest? And why didn’t they restrain him properly, knowing he is going through a change that makes him significantly stronger? And for fuck’s sake, why is it that after the protagonist is contaminated, the other characters act like this was always the plan? And why don’t they go visit the place where he was contaminated, if they’re so interested in it? There were witnesses who saw him being contaminated and where that happened, there’s even footage of it. And if the protagonist is such an idiot, why was he promoted? Because his boss is his father-in-law? The same father-in-law who, later in the movie, wants him dead?

“District 9″ isn’t original either. As mentioned, the aliens are ridiculously generic, a simplistic hybrid of arthropod and human being. That, and the film is full of cliches, with several predictable plot points being introduced in the beginning (the squad leader who will later be trouble, the gang leader who will later be trouble, the alien who will later be trouble, then help, then trouble again). Blomkamp even goes for the cliche of the child-alien liking the protagonist, despite the protagonist being a dick to him all the time. Not to mention the moment the protagonist is about to abandon someone, then regrets it and goes back for the rescue.

Despite Blomkamp’s bad craftsmanship, the film’s editing is at least competent — well, okay, it isn’t, it cuts sloppily to several unnecessary camera angles, but in the action scenes it works, making them clear and understandable. But once again, the film sabotages itself with preposterousness, like the painfully stupid moment an alien uses a thin sheet of metal that barely covers half his body to shield himself from a constant stream of bullets — and it works for him. In fact, Blomkamp thinks that showing bullets hitting the metal all the time makes it more believable, when all it does is to prove the people shooting have a good aim and could easily shoot the alien’s unprotected legs from under him. And even more hilariously, when the alien drops the sheet of metal and makes a run for it — suddenly everyone forgets how to shoot properly! This same alien, in a certain moment of the film, says “I have an idea”, channels McGyver and assembles a bomb in under two seconds.

Even the mecha-armor introduced in the film has been seen before in better sci-fi movies, like “Aliens”. And again, they only make the film’s paradox even bigger: the Prawns have advanced technology but are not above acting like trailer park rednecks. And even though the huge spaceship floats above Johannesburg for twenty years, literally rotting up there with no way of returning to its home planet, then I fail to understand how the movie’s ending is coherent. Do you expect me to believe that McGuffin (the little tube of fluid) is the solution to everything? The ending, by the way, after portraying all its characters as cunts, expects us to feel emotional at the way the film’s conflicts are resolved.

Sharlto Copley is intense as the protagonist Wikus Van De Merwe, but that’s all the fast-paced, over-edited movie allows him to be. The rest of the cast is either cartoonishly evil or simply unremarkable. The aliens themselves are well-animated most of the time, failing only when they need to express more subtle emotions — but in this instance, this movie’s cheap budget of thirty million dollars actually works as an excuse, and in all fairness the special effects are mostly convincing. The cinematography, sound effects and the music are efficient as well, making for a technically decent film, at least.

But really, “District 9″ has been widely-regarded as brilliant — you might think my hopes were too high, and I’ll admit I was looking forward to watching it, but no matter how my hopes were, the issues I’ve been practically listing since the beginning of this review would not have been overlooked. I feel that in order for me to like this film, I’d have to lower my standards. It has failed to make me laugh, tried to use cliches to make me cry (there’s even the “Go, save yourself!” cliche), has unimaginative art design, simplistic dialogue, cartoonish villains, preposterous action scenes, an unlikeable protagonist who is stupid AND a prick too, schematic plot structure, badly-paced and disjointed storytelling, poor direction, derivative ideas, several instances of “deux ex machina” — and it’s being considered a classic, apparently. Why? Because it’s in Johannesburg, not in New York? Because it was made for 30 million? Because it’s produced by Peter Jackson? Because it’s Blomkamp’s first film?

It’s a mindless, derivative and unimpressive sci-fi flick that in certain moments looks like “Blood Diamond” with a human and an alien.