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Archive for August, 2009
This Week in Normality (Saturday Edition) — Bring the Pain
Aug 29th
Good day to you, faithful reader, on this last Saturday in August, in the year of our lord two thousand and nine.
I won’t go into all the horrid details about my Friday…the first day of the fall semester for me, in fact, and how everything that could possibly conspire against me posting this week’s articles did, in fact, conspire against me. I mean, I guess a comet didn’t crash into my car and I didn’t lose a limb in a lumber mill accident…but aside from those two things, everything that could conspire against me did. Suffice it to say, by the time I got home last night and had the kids fed and asleep I had just enough energy to stumble into bed.
So here we are…
But aren’t you glad you had to wait?
Isn’t the anticipation of what this week’s Normality Restored would bring you even better now that you have had to marshal the reserve to wait a full day more?
Just go with me on this.
And, you know what? It’s fitting, having to make you all wait so long. The waiting, no doubt, pained you faithful Normalinauts endlessly. I imagine you all suffered from severe cramps and headaches all night, unable to sleep, wondering when…dear god when!…you would find the weekly succor you so crave on Fridays.
It was, of course, cruel of us to have unleashed such wanting on our adoring fans. But such is the fate of the faithful on this week in which we Bring the Pain!
And this week’s theme was inspired by the newly released Tarantino film Inglorious Basterds, of which Stoker has written a…dare I say, glowing?…I dare…GLOWING review.
Tengu takes us back to his childhood to reminisce fondly, and not so fondly, about the work of filmmaker Paul Verhoeven.
Mustardseed, in his continuing attempts to prove he is the most literary of NR contributors, highlights Blood Meridian, the oft overlooked debut novel from now Pulitzer Prize winner, Cormac McCarthy.
What I have learned about, if not people at large, at least those associated with this website is that you tell them the theme is blood and violence, then they come out of the woodwork.
Stoker, for instance, was not content to just review a movie, oh no! He also felt compelled to give us all a taste of the, definitely not for the squeamish, Bendis graphic novel Torso.
And lastly, though certainly not least, a new guest contributor shares with us all both, the joy of Peter Jackson’s early work, and the savory taste of gore in general.
Glorious Basterds
Aug 29th
“Once upon a time in Nazi occupied France…” a group of bad asses led by Lt. Aldo Rain (Brad Pitt) throw down the gauntlet and scalp a shit load of Nazis. At least that is what the trailer for Quentin Tarantino’s, “Inglorious Basterds” wants you to think the film is about but Basterds is so much more than a simple bloody war movie. The film is an homage to the C war movies of the past and a love letter to film as a whole. The movie’s main story line actually centers around a Nazi propaganda film and a plot to blow up or burn down the theater that is premiering it, taking out every member of the Nazi high command in one fell swoop.
I am one of those who believe that there are very few directors who do talking and excessive violence quite as well as Tarantino and he is in rare form with this new release. I cannot even begin to describe the scene in which two of the Basterds, and a British soldier, are meant to meet with a German film star in a Nazi filled bar, because the speeches contained within that scene are so brilliant. Let’s face it, though, a writer can write the best scene in the world but without the right actor to deliver the lines it all goes to hell anyway. In this case, the man who delivers those lines best is Christoph Waltz as Col. Hans “The Jew Hunter” Landa. Every scene that this man is in is mesmerizing, he utilizes four different languages in the film (German, French, English and Italian) and manages to be terrifying and yet oddly charismatic in all of them. I have never hated a villain while simultaneously being drawn to him every second he is on screen as much as with Landa (if he is not nominated for an academy award this year it will be a complete and utter debacle).
There are, however, two very important things that anyone going to see this film should know. One; the Basterds are only on screen about half the time, splitting the movie with Shosanna the undercover Jewish girl who owns the theater where the Nazis are planning to premier their film. Two; the majority of the film is subtitled so if you aren’t willing to read your entertainment then don’t bother going (and if you choose to go, don’t bitch about it later).
What really made me love this film was the way in which Tarantino dealt with his Jewish characters. I have grown very tired of the way in which Jews are portrayed in film. It is rare to find a movie in which the Jewish characters are not some absurd stereotype. We often see Jewish characters with long beards, dressed all in black, wearing hats and having peyote while Klezmer music plays in the background. The Basterds are not stereotypes. Not once do we see them engaging in any type of stereotypical behavior; they are first and foremost soldiers. Each is representative of where he is from and so, collectively, they do not continue the absurd idea that all Jews are the same. I do not have the time to heap all of the praise I wish on this film so, “Inglorious Basterds” I give you…
5/5 - Punched in the face by AWESOME!
To War Against The Decline Of His Meridian
Aug 29th
The Phantom Cart by Salvador Dali (1933), used as the cover image for the first edition of Blood Meridian, Or The Evening Redness In The West.
Blood Meridian could have been nothing more than a catalog of violence, rather than a terrifying meditation on the atrocities committed by the Glanton Gang. Save for one, its characters revel in the murders they commit, and while writer Cormac McCarthy imbues their acts with a certain warped eloquence through his use of beautiful and highly descriptive prose that reflects this macabre celebration, he does not do so to merely glorify the violence. Nor does he judge it as a mindless act. His central proponent for violence, Judge Holden, informs us that war is the only true game, for risking death, it is the only game that “swallows up game, player, and all.” His meditations and explanations of the methodology he uses to vindicate himself and the rest of the scalp hunters’ acts, thereby liberating them from any apprehension they might have in committing them, is perhaps the most terrifying part of the book.
The book is based on the true story of a group of men led by John Joel Glanton, a former member of the U.S. Army during the mid-19th century, who was hired by Mexican governors to kill and scalp Indians on the borders of the United States and Mexico during 1849 and 1850. It follows a nameless protagonist only referred to as ‘the kid’ after he runs away from rural Tennessee at the age of fourteen, meeting up with the Glanton Gang two years later. McCarthy tells us that the kid can “neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless violence,” something we see in the second page as he has nightly fights with sailors in a bar until he’s shot in the back, just below his heart. He is essentially the perfect initiate for Judge Holden’s philosophy. Yet, that is the central conflict of the book, for while the kid rides and murders with the gang, his conscience is not completely free when he performs these acts. When given the duty of killing an injured member of the gang after everyone else has left, he cannot bring himself to do so. His reluctance undermines everything the Judge believes in.
Judge Holden is described as being about seven feet tall, lacking any hair growth and with the complexion of an albino and the face of an infant. He has traveled the world, speaks numerous languages, including an understanding for ancient and cryptic ones. An accomplished fiddler and dancer, it appears there isn’t anything he cannot subjugate and nor master; even time, as he hasn’t appeared to age when years have passed. He carries notebooks into which he sketches and makes notes of a variety of things he finds along the gang’s journey—a piece of armor, birds, insects—and after he’s done with them he destroys them. When asked why he does so, he explains that he wishes to remove the existence of these things from the “memory of man.” Only the Judge will hold the knowledge and understanding of their existence. As he explains later on, “Whatever in creation exists without my knowledge exists without my consent.” His desire is to be suzerain, or overlord, of the world. Nature is the only thing that can undermine him, because it is the only thing that exists independent of man’s will and desire. Nature, and as McCarthy demonstrates, the kid’s refusal to be seduced by Holden’s views and be carried off like a bride, as one of the characters remarks. Since it’s implied that the Judge rapes children, this is perhaps not to be taken as a flippant remark.
If you wish to be disturbed, then in the spirit of our “bring the pain” theme, here is a book whose characters not only “bring the pain,” but are also acutely aware of why they do so. Of some who enjoy it, and of some who are faintly disturbed by the prospect of it. A conversation with violence, so to speak.
5/5 - Punched in the face by AWESOME!
Verhoeven’s Double Feature of Violence
Aug 29th
As a male adult in my early-30’s who was born and raised in the United States, I have seen/been subjected to (take your pick) a large array of movies that, according to the MPAA “…may include adult themes, adult activity, hard language, intense or persistent violence, sexually-oriented nudity, drug abuse or other elements, so that parents are counseled to take this rating very seriously.” For me, the master of this type of film is none other than director, Paul Verhoeven who is not even a US native, but a son of the Netherlands! With this weeks NR theme being, “Bring the Pain” I thought it appropriate to highlight two of Verhoeven’s “best” (and I use the term loosely and more in reference to box office dollars versus actual content) films.
In 1987, Verhoeven hit the cinema with the over the top, ultra-violent “Robocop” Part man. Part machine. All cop. I recall with clarity seeing the commercials and posters at the local theatre for this film and was determined to figure out how to watch it. It wasn’t until a year later, however, when it came out on video that I was able to take a gander without my parent’s interference. My 10 year old mind was (upon reflection) not ready to watch Alex Murphy get brutally shot up and dismembered by a bunch of crazed hooligans. It left quite the impression and the thought that “Wow, they can do some crazy make-up effects these days.” You might think that Murphy’s horrific death was the most violent part of the movie, but from that scene forward, Verhoeven just ratches up the violence meter. Who can forget the scene where Robocop takes down the would-be rapist by putting a round in the assailants breadbasket?! Or when one of Alex Murphy’s original killers gets tossed into some toxic waste and starts to melt? As violent and bloody as Robocop was, Verhoeven was just priming the pump for his next Hollywood endeavor that would feature our very own “Governator.”
1990 brought with it not only “Hammer Pants” but also Verhoeven’s sci-fi life on Mar’s epic “Total Recall” starring Arnold Schwarzenegger which taught us, if nothing else, that that trying to live on Mars sucks…unless you’re looking for an irradiated, martian hooker. Why does life suck on the red planet? Because the government will go with the lowest bidding contractor when making your atmosphere bubbles, thus allowing radiation to disfigure you. Also, the government will cover up the existence of an alien artifact that will actually allow the planet to have a breathable atmosphere. But like a porn movie, we’re not here to talk about the plot. We’re here to talk about the body count, and boy does Verhoeven deliver! Immeasurable amounts of Mars cops get taken out. A rat, sentient cab and various sundry scientist get to meet the reaper. Plus a random goon gets used as a handy meat shield. Don’t believe me?
Despite all of Verhoeven’s hard work during this time, in the end, it is Charlie Sheen who ends starring in “the bloodiest movie of all time.”
Robocop gets an NR rating of:
3/5 - Might be worth a try...
Whereas Total Recall gets an NR rating of:
1/5 - Basic shite.
Ness’s Mess
Aug 29th
Anyone familiar with any portion of the life of Eliot Ness most likely knows about his time as the head of The Untouchables. The Untouchables were a group of police officers who made a huge splash during the days of Prohibition. Few people, though, know what became of Ness post Chicago. It is Ness’s time in Cleveland Ohio investigating a series of grizzly murders that Brian Michael Bendis tackles in his award winning graphic novel “Torso.” Bendis is best known for his work on marvel comics superhero books but his true strength lies in the crime tales he told oh so many years ago.
Torso is a roller coaster of a ride as we follow Ness, and two other detectives, trying to solve the killings that have been plaguing Cleveland. Bendis utilizes many unique techniques to tell his story including spiraling panels and news clips from the time. The most shocking and valuable of his techniques, and also the most bloody and terrifying, is the utilization of actual crime scene photos in the pages to the comic. This book is not for the squeamish and I have warned people in the past that if you cannot handle photos of decapitation and decay that this is not the book for you…but if you can stomach it I full recommend this comic.
Torso gives the reader insight into what drives a man like Ness. Torso also gives a unique perspective on the beliefs about homosexuality at the time. The tale deals with corruption like no other book I have ever seen. The reader gets to witness the unraveling of a once powerful man as a killer slips through his fingers over and over again.
It is also important to note that Torso is a graphic novel in black and white so if you are one of those people who needs vibrant colors to read a comic; this isn’t the book for you. If, however, you are the kind of person who is ready to have chills run down your spine, if you are the kind of person who loves police procedurals, if you are the kind of person ready to expand your graphic novel reading prowess, this is the place to begin.
I do not want to give away too much of the plot because it simply would be unfair so I am going to stop here but this is my bloody valentine to all you out there in NR world. Oh, and I hope that the Torso (now called Ness) film comes to fruition soon.
4/5 - Nearly classic!
For the Love of Gore
Aug 28th
Hey there faithful Normalinauts. Kilian here and, for the second week in a row, we at Normality Restored are pleased to welcome a guest contributor. He has requested that we call him “D. Composition” and I fully honor that request. As a slight, personally advantageous, aside I will say that I am enjoying the guest contributors as it means I do less writing (though more editing) and so we get a wider array of voices here on the ol’ NR.
So without further ado, I present to you…
If I were to walk up to an average movie fan and ask him if he remembered such films as “Deep Blue Sea” or “Resident Evil”, I imagine his response to the latter would be “Not really, but I do remember that guy getting diced by those lasers! That was awesome!” and to the former “Not really, but I do remember the shark jumping up and eating Sam Jackson! That was awesome!”
Sorry for the spoiler, but if you haven’t already seen Deep Blue Sea, chances are high that you either don’t want to see it or you already know about it because of Dave Chapelle.
Dave Chapelle: Samuel L. Jackson’s
I find this to be a commonality with a lot of movies, even when the movie is pretty good (I personally enjoyed Deep Blue Sea very much). We all know the reason for its everpresence. It’s the same reason people love rollercoasters. It’s a shocking thrill rolled in fun. Better the fictional movie characters deal with it than us, of course. It’s a fun way to have all the characters we hate get offed in a film. It works the opposite way with our heroes though (There were too many good times with Chef from South Park before his grisly demise. Gore is like taking a wound, or a death, in a story and turning it up full blast, much to the chagrin or delight of the prospective viewer. The gore can be a little much for some people, but that can be enjoyable too. I always find myself smiling at gore moments if I notice that someone else is cringing while watching. I think anything in a movie that can get a reaction like that is doing something right. I suppose I’ve personally been desensitized to the majority of the gore out there, though. I got started at an early age with a certain stripe-sweatered melty boogeyman with knives for fingers. Who could get these images out of a 7 year old’s mind (or a 27 year old’s mind for that matter)?
Few films, however, can match the feeling one gets when watching Dead Alive (Braindead). Back in the late 80’s-early 90’s Peter Jackson (you know the one…he directed the Lord of the Rings movies, for all you non-existent non-nerds reading this) made a couple of really funny and really gory little movies. Dead Alive is the best of these (according to myself and some friends). A few stragglers aside, it seems to be the undisputed “goriest fright film of all time.” If you’re not familiar with Dead Alive, you’ll either be really happy or really pissed off you’ve missed out for so long.
The movie is about a young man who lives with his old abusive mother. The films opens with the mother getting bitten by a rat-monkey at the zoo and, of course, contracting a zombie-like disease. The ball starts tumbling from there. The protagonist does his best to take care of his zombie-mom despite the infection of more and more, who also end up getting kept in his house. There is zombie sex, a zombie baby, a kung fu priest, a lawnmower scene, and a bunch of gross out stuff that even had me squirming.
If you do decide you want to see this movie, make sure to get the unrated version, because the “safe” version has so much cut out it really isn’t the same movie.
Needless to say, gore is and has been a great joy of mine for all kinds of reasons. It’s always fun to see where the filmmaker is going to take the viewer to get to some new level of shock or creativity. This is why people always talk about the “curb scene” in American History X or the “pen trick scene” in Dark Knight or the “eye splinter scene” from Zombi or the “tooth-pulling scene” from Oldboy. These are the standout moments in film for many because they are so shocking and so memorable.
Nights on Mary Street: Summer 1997-Spring 1998
Aug 21st
The seating capacity is listed at three-hundred and twenty five, and even if only half of that attended that night, there were still plenty of witnesses. A little over one-hundred people, if not more, who remained silent. There had probably been that many the week before who watched a seventeen year old boy whose leg was trembling in his jeans as he stared beyond the stage lights and into that void from which he was drawing laughter every few moments. I had prepared the material for that previous week.
I had a notebook with the spiral binding smashed down. I poured ideas into this notebook at school, on the bus in the mornings and afternoons. I would try out the material by slipping it in to conversations with friends, strangers. I would make note of what worked and try to understand why the rest didn’t work. Would a slight change in phrasing clarify the punch line?
SUMMER-FALL 1997
I sat outside of the Improv Comedy Club Miami every Monday night for about two months when they hosted Open Mic Night. I don’t remember going home after school. I don’t even remember eating dinner. I would get off the Metro-Rail at the Coconut Grove or Douglas Road stations, then board a smaller bus that went back and forth between the two stations, dropping off passengers on the sidewalks of Coconut Grove.
There had been an opportunity before the waiting, and before the club owner and the event coordinator for the open mic night discoverer I was seventeen. I had heard about an open mic night event and after talking about doing something like that for a while I decided to go to this club and reserve a spot. I arrived early, I gave my name and the young lady at the counter at the front of the club put me down. Then I entered the club and I could see the small stage and the crowd seated at their tables. My group and I found a table at the other end of the club and we sat and waited. Performers started going on and I waited my turn. How would they know to find me? Performers went on, and some received laughs while others found reasons never to come back. I don’t know which would feel worse when you’re standing up there and the material isn’t working: silence or booing? When the last performer left the stage and the host for the night announced the winner of the open mic night, I realized I had missed my opportunity. Don’t think it passed me by, now, because it didn’t. I didn’t once see any of the performers stand up from any table and walk up to the stage. I could have stood up and walked back to the front and asked if Iwas right to wait for my turn out in the audience as I watched each performers’ set. I was afraid. I sat at my table while my friend Idolka held my hand, and the numbing feeling in my stomach spread through the rest of my body. Then the night was over, and the two month wait outside of the club every Monday night began. They had found out how old I was and wouldn’t let me back in. There was even one night where the event coordinator, as a calm as he could remain, told me to leave as I was interfering with the patrons. My two months ended when neither the owner of the club nor the event coordinator were present, and I was allowed to go on. I didn’t get booed off the stage. There were giggles and a few small laughs, and then I was off the stage. While it wasn’t a spectacular set, I didn’t faint, I didn’t freeze up, and I wanted more.
SPRING 1998
My Mom and my brothers took a trip to Disneyworld during springbreak in April. I had already been to Disneyworld, and I wanted some time to myself, therefore I chose to stay behind. This is something I did a few times whenever the family took trips, and it took quite an effort the first few times to convince my Mom to let me stay.
I’m not sure what my exact thought process was that led me to get dressed and grab my bus card to stand outside on Le Jeune Road and catch the bus to the Douglas Road station, there to transfer to the bus into the Grove. It was one of those moments where I wanted something and had wanted it for a very long time, and I failed to see any reason why I shouldn’t try one more time. The timing felt right. I was on my own away from my family, I would be turning eighteen in about three weeks. This needed to be done. I couldn’t have just one brief interlude on that stage.
I think it was one of my friends who called my name for me to come to the stage that night. I had pieced together a rough set over all of those months. It was all rough material, one of the bits being about talking about President Bill Clinton entering Congress as if he was walking to the BeeGees “Staying Alive” while Al Gore and Hillary Clinton stood behind him providing the chorus. I remember looking down at my leg and being surprised that I couldn’t see it visibly shaking as I could I feel it doing exactly that. I remember the man they told me was an FBI Agent, who would sit in the front tables close to the stage and heckle the performers. I remember being surprised when some of the material received a good laugh.
Then I remember the next week. I had used up all of the material in my notebook the previous week, but I wanted to go back again. I figured I could put something together quickly. That was vey naive, as I didn’t have the experience to do something like that. Professional Stand-Up Comedians gather a large body of material from which they can draw from at a moment’s notice and piece together a quick set. I was not a professional.
There’s a sense of hyperawareness when an audience is quiet and there are lights blinding you. It’s almost like a zen experience. I remember walking up to the stage, excited, and walking up to the microphone. I remember the silence of the audience after I said my opening bit (which I refuse to recount to anyone who wasn’t there that night). In that silence came the realization that I was in trouble, and there proceeded a strange calm over my body as I accepted there was nothing I could come up with at that very moment that would save me. My friends tried to console me afterwards. They performed there on a regular basis. They understood.
Newstastic or Craptastic…its Newsies!
Aug 21st
Greetings to all faithful Normalinauts. This week, we are lucky to have a guest contributor. She may or may not become a permanent fixture here at NR. I certainly would be in favor of seeing her contribute more so if you enjoy the following piece of writing please let her know. She has asked that the moniker “Oedipa Wheeler” be attributed to her and I consciously decided to NOT try and figure out what that means.
And yes, she is a female. If my memory can be relied upon at all, this is the first article we’ve posted actually written by a female. First women get the right to vote and now this! Truly females are now set to rule the world.
OK, I’ll shut up now…
The beauty of a truly horrific, yet pleasurable, train wreck, metaphorically speaking, of course, given that I don’t harbor any Crash-esque fantasies, is that it brings all those perched upon the upper echelons of our society down to the level of our mediocre and downright embarrassing bourgeois lives. Movie stars are, of course, the usual “victims,” …just a moment while I brush that single, solitary tear off my cheek…of this desire to destroy the ideal. Take Christian “You’re Unprofessional!” Bale as one such victim of the tabloids. This gut-wrenchingly funny tantrum perpetrated by Bale could, in fact, be tossed off as just a part of his artistic temperament, not to overshadow his theatrical abilities. Yet, just visit your local video store and walk directly to the “musicals” section. There, my friends, you will find a film that demonstrates the true range of Bale’s acting abilities; Newsies. And yes, Bale does do all of his own singing and dancing…no stunt doubles for this Renaissance man. Or better yet visit the bookmines so I can escort you myself to this brilliant piece of movie making, giggling all the way.
The popularity of Disney’s live action musicals, à la High School Musical, apparently had not yet found its niche when Newsies made its inauspicious debut in 1992. Yet again, maybe this musical that recreates the 1899 strike of newspaper boys in New York is just pure, unadulterated crap. Bale is quoted as saying of his stellar performance, “Time healed those wounds. But it took awhile.” Time heals all wounds sooner or later, unless it’s the bruise you’ll inevitably get from literally falling off your chair laughing; that’ll take a week or two to heal. Yet, as I sit here rewatching Newsies (yes I own it…it’s hidden between Masculine, Feminine and Citizen Kane in true film major guilty pleasure fashion), I question what was the clincher that lead Bale to look back so shamefully upon this role. Was it singing catchy lyrics like, “If the life don’t seem to suit ya how ‘bout a change of scene, far from the lousy headlines and the deadlines in between!” with the ever elegant heavy New York accent. Or maybe it was the impressive bit of soft shoe he did in unison with about twenty other young men, a veritable precursor to the likes of ‘Nsync or Backstreet Boys. Whatever it was, I hold fast to the cruel pleasure I get from watching Bale’s embarrassing performance.
This pleasure, needless to say, begets some shame for finding so much enjoyment in another man’s humiliation. I gracefully reference you back to my admission that I work at the bookmines as a pretext to my forthcoming rationalization for this shameful pleasure. There is a special kind of enjoyment for a film major who has done nothing with the degree (or any person for that matter who decided to join the Humanities department much to the chagrin of his or her parents) to watch someone successful in the film industry fail so utterly. It gives hope to the wretches like us who will never watch our films light up the silver screen of Sundance, never find our brilliantly penned essays in the New Yorker, or never hear our musical opus on KCRW’s Morning Becomes Eclectic. We want to know that those established in the arts are not necessarily there because of their superior talent. They are, in fact, us with better looks and/or a bit more luck. Their failures bring them back down to us, still searching for a bit of the lime light. Thus, for the time being, I, along with my fellow unsuccessful artistically leaning compatriots, will get our kicks from these simple, disreputable pleasures.
Crazy Like Lightning….Thunderbolts
Aug 21st
Can a trainwreck be entertaining and fun? Yes it can!!! I present to you, Thunderbolts, a team headed by a psycho and filled with other psychos.
Let’s start with a little back story on the team. Originally, the team consisted of villians posing as heroes in order to further their nefarious plans. Then they decided the hero bit wasn’t so bad and became a group of reformed villians.
Fast forward to the Civil War mega event. A schism exists between superheroes that agree to register with the government and those that won’t. The government decides to create a team to hunt down unregistered heroes. Now who could you get to do such a questionable job? Enter the new Thunderbolts. Now instead of villians looking for redemption. You have a team of villians working for the government on the promise of money and a one way ticket to anywhere outside of the United States.
Who are these villians?
- Songbird – member of the original team. She has sonic powers and is one of only two members who are not insane. She acts like the heart of the team.
- Radioactive man – also an original member. He is radioactive and is just hoping to get back to his homeland of China. He is the other non-crazy member.
- Moonstone – last of the originals. While not traditionally crazy, highly manipulative and a master of psychology.
At this point you may be asking, “Where’s the crazy? Why should I read this book at all? Not so trainwreck-like.” Well you’d be right if this was all there was to it. So let’s bring on the crazy:
- Venom – not Eddie Brock, but Mac Gargan (orginally, the Scorpion). Regardless of who is wearing the symbiote, Venom is a bloodthirsty monster. Mostly uncontrollable and likes to eat people.
- Swordsman – has powers but can only use them when touching his twin sister. The problem being that his sister is dead so he wields a sword whose hilt is wrapped in the skin of his dead sister. Oh yeah and he was promised a clone of his sister in lieu of payment. Plus it’s inferred that he and his sister are closer than most siblings (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).
- Penance – was the mutant who was part of the team that started the whole civil war. Blames himself for all of it. The only way he can access his powers is when he is in physical pain.
- Bullseye – all around homicidal maniac. Can kill anyone with anything and enjoys doing it.
And the cherry on this crazy sundae, their leader is Norman Osborne, aka the Green Goblin. Supposedly cured of his sickness, he is put in control of the team.
The first two arcs of this team were phenomenal train wrecks. You have one of the most dysfunctional teams ever taking on c- and d-list heroes. The team does get the job done but they tended to leave the places they visited a little worse for wear…and Venom was always trying to eat innocent bystanders. Every issue the team would fall a little more apart. In truth, one of the main reasons I continued to read it was to see just how bad it could get. I was never disappointed.
Now a disclaimer, currently, the Thunderbolts are made up of a different group of characters and their mission is slightly altered. I much prefer the crazy team.
The first two arcs by Warren Ellis are collected in 2 volumes: Faith in Monsters and Caged Angels. I highly recommend them if you enjoy a good trainwreck.
4/5 - Nearly classic!
The Lucas Factor
Aug 21st
Oh how the mighty do fall.
Ok, so here we go talking about our favorite, or least favorite, train wrecks. There have been a few in recent memory that have stood out. I mean where to begin, “Indian Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” (I try to pretend it didn’t happen), “Beowulf” (I love the poem and to say that there are going to be a lot of students who are about to fail tests because of the lack of fidelity in this is a huge understatement), “All Star Batman and Robin” (Mr. Miller I love your old stuff but not everyone is Marv and Jim Lee if you make a commitment to turn in pages you should do just that).
You know what? I’m going to go back to the first thing on the above list. My biggest train wreck is not a thing, it isn’t a film or a television show, not a comic or a gadget. No ladies and gents my biggest train wreck, the thing that I find the most repulsive in recent history, is a person and that person is…
(drum roll please)
And why is he my biggest train wreck, you may ask. Quite simply, as we were discussing a few weeks ago, George Lucas raped my childhood.
Let us begin with the holy trilogy. To start out Han shoots first god damn it, HAN ALWAYS SHOOTS FIRST!!!! That is what makes Han a bad ass; he is all about the preemptive strike. Greedo is a lame character and to allow him to even get a shot off lowers Han. Oh let’s see what else. When was the last time you heard a Jedi scream like a little bitch when he was falling…never! Jedi are intergalactic samurai and samurai do not scream like little bitches. Plus, what the hell are you doing taking Sebastian Shaw out and replacing him with Hayden Christensen (the guy has all the acting chops of a rock) in Return of the Jedi?
Then there is the total debacle that are Episodes 1, 2, and 3; microscopic organisms in the blood stream, Anakin is a little girl man. Jar Jar Binks (need I say more).
It was only after the end of “Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull” that I finally got it. George Lucas is laughing at us. He sits in his throne of power over at Skywalker ranch and says to himself “George, how can I get into the fans pockets today and then make them depressed about something they once loved? Oh I know! How about I create a movie in which one of cinemas most beloved heroes survives a nuclear blast at ground zero, then finds his long lost son who forces him to ride on the back of a motorcycle like a little bitch (my Indy would have said “Move over kid, I’m driving”) then throw in some intelligent ants, a man swinging through trees like a monkey, and a shit load of aliens.”
To thee George Lucas, I say nay. No longer shall I be duped into spending my hard earned cash on your garbage. No longer will I get my hopes up for something that should be awesome but clearly is no more than a joke to its creator. I scream to the heavens, NO MORE GEORGE LUCAS! I have never before rated a person on a scale of o to five before but let it be known that Lucas only receives a grade high because of my fond child hood memories before he ruined everything…
1/5 - Basic shite.
This Week In Normality — Train Wrecks!
Aug 21st
Is this how they envisioned their lives?
This week’s theme was inspired by a…let’s say sad…state of affairs. No doubt you are all familiar with the TLC show Jon and Kate Plus 8. In recent months the visibility of the show has increased exponentially, as stories of infidelity are fodder for the media. It occurred to me not too long ago, however, just what a depressing story the whole thing makes.
My wife and I actually watched the original special (Surviving Sextuplets and Twins) that Jon and Kate (and their kids) were on and have watched the show since somewhere near the end of season one. So, for us, it was pretty disheartening to see how everything has turned out for the Gosselin family in recent months. I imagine that the decision to do the show, originally, was a financial one. Raising eight very young kids on one income seems…what’s more difficult than impossible?. So I’m sure that Jon and Kate saw the show as a way of providing, not only for their kid’s present, but also for their futures.
Fame and money, as they have a tendency to do, no doubt changed both Jon and Kate. I’m not going to assign blame or call out either of them for percieved character flaws. I only know them insofar as the camera portrayed them and that has to be a false portrayal.
But the situation is extremely depressing because of the children. Not only are the kid’s parents now headed for divorce, but their seperation has been heavily documented by the media. Even if the kids had wanted to ignore certain facts about their parents’ behavior, they will no doubt have it shoved in their faces for decades to come.
And the children (particularly the sextuplets) are the ones that we (the viewing audience) might actually know well. Having been so young when the show started they had not yet developed the awesome adult ability to “pretend to be somone you’re not.”
So that’s depressing.
But what I want to focus on here is the absolute train wreck that has become the parents.
Look, when someone embarks on a career in film acting or music, that person makes an understood contract with the public that, given ridiculous amounts of money and fame, that person inevitably gives up a large amount of privacy. Like it or not (I’m not defending or condoning) that’s the way celebrity works. And, more or less, actors and rock stars know this and accept it.
How useless are you when you appear in Playboy and aren't nude?
Back to my point about why Jon and Kate first did the show, though, I doubt either of them thought it would make them tabloid cover stars. Remember, too, that for the first two years the show was shown on something called Discovery Health. Not exactly E.
Sure, some people go on “reality” shows to try and parlay that into some sort of career…even when these people have no appreciable talent for anything other than being a douche. Maybe I’m gullible, but I never got that type of feeling from Jon and Kate during those first two seasons.
Yes, it was certainly possible that they were headed for a divorce even before the inception of the show. Eight kids before the age of 30 could do that to the best of couples. Hell, I only have two kids and I’m stressed to my eyeballs every day. But eight…fuck! Still, I wonder if they had the opportunity, would they both choose to do the show again?
So this week is all about the (figurative) train wreck.
Stoker recounts just how far George Lucas has fallen.
Jezmon presents for us a decidedly enjoyable train wreck from the world of comics (with overtures of an incestuous relationship).
A guest contributor asks us all to consider the deeper meaning of Newsies.
My Wife Will Tell You…I Do, In Fact, Enjoy Butts
Aug 15th
There was a time that I could sing Baby Got Back in its entirety without missing a syllable. I haven’t kept up with my freestyle “skillz” in recent years but I’d say I can still get through about 85% of it without fail.
Baby Got Back, of course, is a song familiar to many. Probably not so familiar, however, are the rest of the songs that appear on Sir Mix a Lot’s 1992 release Mack Daddy.
For instance, the first single off that particular album was the first track, One Time’s Got No Case.
And that link will take you to the video, which I would have embedded but either I am stupid (entirely possible) or Spike won’t allow that video to be embedded (also possible, but less likely).
Now that’s a decent song. It’s not NWA or Public Enemy, but as far as early 90’s hip hop goes, it’s strong. Most of the album is solid, in fact, but there’s one jem on there that never got its due…I’m Your New God.
As far as I know a video was never made for the song, below is just the song playing to a picture of the album cover, but go ahead and listen to it in any event.
I bring up Sir Mix a Lot because I loved this album when it came out in 1992. At that time (I was 14) I listened exclusively to punk…or so I claimed.
I went a long time decrying any music that wasn’t punk, or political, as weak and not worth listening to. I was young and stupid and thought that everything I enjoyed (music and books, especially) had to be charged with ideals or “artistic”…whatever that means.
In any event, it took many years for me to admit it but, damnit, I like pop music.
OK, I like some pop music.
I mean, I don’t roll around blaring The Jonas Brothers.
I know I mentioned this one some time ago, but it’s so good it deserves a second go round…Shake It by Metro Station.
Around the same time that I was falling in love with big butts I also played drums in a short lived (I think we lasted a month) band called Boogie Shoes. We took our moniker from the KC and the Sunshine band song of the same name and the premise was that we covered disco songs but played them like a punk band. We never played a single show. I wanted to be in that band not for the punk, but for the disco…Let’s Get Down Tonight is still one of my all time favorite songs.
In case you are curious, here’s the song that inspired us.
Now imagine that song 3 times faster and out of tune. See why we never played a single show?
So, there you have it. For all my talk about bands no one has ever heard of I still enjoy some top 40ish stuff. I think, honestly, it comes down to the fact that, regardless of genre (and this is true of all creative outlets, I think) solid craftsmanship (for lack of a better word) shines. Do I think Metro Station is the next Beatles…of course not. On that one song, though, they really did capture something infectious and fun. I’m adult enough now to admit that I enjoy it…
But I can’t leave without sharing something with a bit of an edge…
Or something a bit odd…
This Week in Normality — My Love is Inexplicable
Aug 14th
Please enjoy this excerpt of a conversation my wife and I had a few days ago as we were brainstorming ideas for this week’s theme:
Wife: I have a lot of guilty pleasures, like Footloose.
Me: Yeah, that’s true. You ever see Quicksilver? That movie where Kevin Bacon is a bike racer.
Wife: Uh, no! He was a bike messenger, god!
Now please enjoy this awesome(?) Quicksilver trailer:
If Kevin Bacon is my wife’s penultimate guilty pleasure then her ultimate also stems from her childhood and continues on to this day….Rick Springfield.
She still has a Rick Springfield shirt from when she was five that our daughter will be wearing any day now. That’s not a joke, she showed me the shirt on Tuesday.
This theme was inspired by last week’s, in fact, in that yeah, we all love things that aren’t popular, but we also all love things that we should be ashamed of…or not.
Mustardseed considers, for your consideration, the film In the Loop that, much to my surprise, is not about hoolahoops or organized hoolahoop competition.
Not to be outdone, Stoker reviews A Perfect Getaway, which should have been pleasurable but merely left him feeling guilty…see what I did there?
I give to you, faithful Normalinauts, a list of musical guilty pleasures I’m sure will frighten and amaze and humbly suggest that the nerds of the world adopt Football (real football) as our official sport.
A Not So Perfect Get Away
Aug 14th
So this last weekend, in a fit of boredom, a friend and I decided that it would be fun to go see a movie. He went to see “G.I. Joe” the night before so that was ruled out and, let’s face it, two guys are not going to go see the other major release of the weekend “Julie and Julia” so we chose instead to go see the new Rogue Pictures thriller, “A Perfect Get Away.” Unfortunately, the film is a far cry from its title. I went into the movie thinking “hey this could be fun.” I was wrong.
The actors in the movie are a veritable whose who of B and C listers and I’ll give you some other films they’ve all been in that were actually good. The First couple that we are introduced to is comprised of Steve Zahn (“That Thing You Do”, “Happy Texas”) and Milla Jovovich (“Zoolander”, “The Fifth Element”). These two play Cliff and Cydney, a newlywed couple out in Hawaii for a honeymoon. During their time in the islands they encounter Chris Hemsworth (Star Trek) and Marley Shelton’s (“Planet Terror”, “Sugar and Spice”) Kale and Cleo, a very off putting couple who may very well be the killers who have been hopping from island to island (by the way Hemsworth is almost unrecognizable in this film and huge, likely bulking up for his role in the upcoming Thor). The last couple is Timothy Olyphant (“Go”, “Catch and Release”) and Kiele Sanchez’s (? I haven’t seen anything she has been in), Nick and Gina, also possible killers. The actors do their very best and are the only real reason to see this flick. They are all, quite simpl,y great at what they do and deserve every bit of work that they get.
The problem with the film really lies in the script. For me there was absolutely no suspense whatsoever. We watch the characters as they move across Hawaii, their destination a secluded beach, in scene after scene of boring attempts to startle. Kale is an enraged ex Military man with a history who seems to be stalking Zahn. Nick has a collapsed bow and arrow set which he uses to hunt goat and people alike. Cydney almost falls to her doom only to be saved by Nick, it just goes on and on. From about ten minutes into the film I knew exactly who the killers were, I knew how it was all going to play out and I knew who would survive and who would meet his or her untimely end. The movie suffers from being a thriller with no thrills. I enjoy camp, as you can tell from my previous posts, (and even some of my above suggestions) but, if you are going to be campy commit to it…and if you are going to be scary, be really scary.
There are more Red Herrings in this movie than anything I have seen in a while and, yet, none of them pulled me away from the truth.
SPOILER ALERT Chris Hemsworth character is too crazy to be the killer and Tim Olyphant makes mention of a Red Herring meaning that it can’t possibly be him. The speech patterns of Zahn and Jovovich give them away. Too much of their dialogue has double meanings. END SPOILER.
In the end just don’t waste your time and your money. Save your cash to see “Inglorious Basterds” or simply eat it to provide yourself with some sustenance.
1/5 - Basic shite.
What would you do with a shinbone? – Thoughts on “IN THE LOOP”
Aug 14th
Peter Capaldi and Chris Addison as Malcom Tucker and Toby Wright in Armando Iannuci's "IN THE LOOP."
The characters in Armando Iannucci’s IN THE LOOP eventually talk about war, though always as something distant that they have either read about in books or seen movies of. It’s even implied that the United States’ General Miller (James Gandolfini) doesn’t really have the amount of war experience he claims to have. No one is even sure if he’s ever even killed a man, much less seen any combat. Yet there is talking, as I mentioned. I can’t recall a pause for silence in this film that lasted for more than a few moments. Most of the conversations center around who will look bad and what not to say and what should be said to keep careers afloat. Or even sex. Or a tumbling wall in Northhamptonshire. When someone decides to have a serious conversation about the logistics of going to war in the Middle East, it doesn’t occur in any of the government facilities we see. Instead, it happens in a child’s bedroom, with General Miller using the child’s talking calculator to sum up how many troops are available to send in. 12,000. And that’s just how many they would send in to initially die. You still need a few around afterwards so you can say you won.
There are two sides to the debate on whether or not to go to war led by the British Prime Minister and U.S. officials. On the U.S. side for war, there is Linton Barwick (David Rasche), who keeps a live grenade on his desk as a paper weight. He plays squash and is followed around by his assistant who “hopes to play squash one day.” When Barwick sees statements he doesn’t like in a colleague’s minutes, he changes the statements in the minutes. That colleague would be the other side of the debate, Karen Clarke (Mimi Kennedy) who worries about dental problems and sits in a bathroom as her assistant Liza (Anna Chlumsky) helps her stuff tissues in her mouth to stop her bleeding gums. Liza is also ambitious. She wrote a report detailing the pros and cons of going to war.
Then there is Simon Foster (Tom Hollander) , the British Secretary of State for International Development, and his newly hired assistant Toby (Chris Addison), who find themselves in the middle of this conflict after Simon inadvertently told a news outlet that war was “unforeseeable.” Simon means well, but is ineffectual. Thr Americans refer to him as a “meat puppet.” When things get hard for Simon, he retreats to a box of mints. As the Prime Minister’s Communications Chief Malcom Tucker (Peter Cappaldi) who tries to keep Simon’s statements in line tells him, it’s best if he not speak.
Tucker is a man who works so hard he claims at one point to sweat spinal fluid. As played by Peter Cappaldi, I laughed because I actually expected said fluids to start pouring out of his body. Tucker performs his duties on behalf of the Prime Minister with a combination of tenacity and verbal abuse that includes threats to stab someone to death with their own shinbone, which he would of course pull from their body himself.
While the current war in Iraq is never mentioned directly, only a war in the Middle East, the movie clearly draws parallels with events leading up to the Iraq conflict, down to an interesting manifestation of reliable intelligence to lead the nations into a conflict. The humor in each character’s lines works because they naturally come out of each characters’ clearly defined personality, from Simon who is terrified of taking a stand and constantly fumbles his words in public, to Tucker, who is like a freight train of fertilizer about to run down a school bus full of nuns.
My opinion on the war in the movie? Send Tucker in to the war zone with a megaphone for two days.
4/5 - Nearly classic!