I could say a lot about DC doing a Black Hammer crossover, but I won’t bother. Instead, just look at the cool covers for it.
I could say a lot about DC doing a Black Hammer crossover, but I won’t bother. Instead, just look at the cool covers for it.
Room; A24; 2015; 118m; on home video.
Room is the story of a woman (Brie Larson) and her son (Jacob Tremblay) who, after seven years in captivity by rapist Sean Bridgers (Tremblay being born as a result of one of those rapes), escape and have to adjust to the outside world. The film is from Tremblay’s perspective, with some occasional narration. Though never when the film actually needs narration. Screenwriter Emma Donoghue adapted her own novel, which kind of explains why the perspective is so unchanging, even when it’s not working on film. There are these scenes with Tremblay without narration where his behavior begs explanation. Instead, Donoghue and director Abrahamson just let the audience ponder. Abrahamson actually ignores the presence of the narration because he’s concentrating on Larson. Room wants to be both through Tremblay’s perspective but really be Larson’s movie.
It doesn’t work out in either department. Larson gets this amazing character and character arc, but then when the movie needs her to go away, she’s gone. Only the movie then sticks with Tremblay, which makes sense if it’s a first person novel, but not the movie because just because child Tremblay doesn’t understand what’s going on, the audience does. It’s a dodge. But then the film doesn’t really go deep on Tremblay, instead it just shifts that perspective to Joan Allen and William H. Macy as the grandparents. Of the two, Allen gets the better part but Macy gets the better scenes. There’s never enough with Larson and either of them, since it’s all got to be tethered to Tremblay.
However, outside its problems with perspective—both in the direction and on a fundamental level with the screenwriting–Room is outstanding. Abrahamson and editor Nathan Nugent work up this harrowing pace for the captivity sequence. Again, there are the nitpicky perspective things, but the film effectively and immediately drops the audience into this extraordinarily confined existence with Larson and Tremblay. The opening present action isn’t too long. The film starts on or just before Tremblay’s fifth birthday. The rest of the action plays out in the next week. For that section. The second half’s present action appears to take months but doesn’t really matter once Larson’s no longer narratively relevant.
So while Abrahamson never wows for thriller sequences or sublime ones, he also never tries for a wow only to miss. His direction is confident and deliberate, which the film does need. Room has so many ways it could go wrong and can’t really afford any missteps because they’d mess up the momentum of Larson’s performance. Because even though Tremblay has the bigger adjustment—she been telling him the real world was just something on the TV until the middle of the first act—Larson’s got a lot more repercussions. Though, again, both Larson and Tremblay get cheated out of dealing with those repercussions on screen.
Basically there needs to be a dramatic stylistic shift somewhere in the second half and there isn’t. Abrahamson never gives the impression of guiding the film. He’s always sticking to the script and doing well directing it, getting some amazing moments from his entire cast, but Room never quite feels organic. It feels raw—though the occasionally too smooth digital video hurts that impression rather than helping it. Oh. And the wide Panavision aspect ratio, which… just… no.
Larson’s performance is spectacular. She’s got a lot of big, dramatic moments and she nails them all. Even when the script doesn’t stick with her. In fact, Larson sort of sums of the problem with Room. Abrahamson knows the movie needs to be all about Larson’s performance and how her character arc affects Tremblay. Meanwhile, Room is actually from the perspective of Tremblay. The script doesn’t care what Abrahamson or Larson come up with.
But the script’s also excellent. It’s just… got a perspective problem.
Tremblay’s quite good. It’s impossible to imagine Room without Tremblay, but it’s also impossible to imagine a Room where Tremblay’s the protagonist and not the erstwhile subject of the picture. Because it’s not his movie, his part has nowhere near the possibility of Larson’s.
Allen’s good, Macy’s good. Tom McCamus is good. Bridgers is terrifying. Amanda Brugel has a great scene as a cop (with Joe Pingue as her “holy shit, men are useless” partner).
Stephen Rennicks’s music is effective.
Room’s story is bold. Not ostentatious, just bold. It’s a bold story, with a bold performance from Larson. It’s just not a bold film. It’s not a boldly produced film. It’s safe. It’s quite good, often spectacular, but it’s way too safe.
Who doesn’t want to see Jaime Hernandez draw DC superheroes? Besides DC Comics.
There’s some great stuff at the link; I think I’ve seen the “Maggie as Robin” thing before in a Love and Rockets sketchbook section. The era of being excited about an indie creator–or indie-minded creator–doing mainstream work is, quite unfortunately, over. I used to be thrilled whenever someone conned Michael Lark into doing superheroes (Gotham Central, be still my beating heart) and such, but seeing eighties Jaime DC art? Still awesome.
I need to email that Namor and Aquaman one to the post author. You can never have too much Jaime.
Back in 1989, DC Comics scrapped an issue of Swamp Thing where Swampy met Jesus. Writer Rick Veitch quit DC Comics for a time, Doug Wheeler took over the series and led it into a shallow period. DC has never published the comic, even though pretty much everyone agrees the Wheeler run is one of the series low points.
Everyone who’s read it, anyway. It doesn’t seem like many did.
Fast forward thirty years and once again DC is scared of Jesus. Mark Russell–who wrote Flintstones and Snagglepuss for DC–has a new book, Second Coming, all about Jesus returning and bunking with a Superman stand-in.
DC greenlit the concept, greenlit the book, then totally wussed out once again when it comes to getting Jesus into the funny pages. It’s not a surprise. DC’s a mostly feckless sewer, but come on… stand by your greenlighting decisions. There have been plenty of good Jesus comics over the years–particularly Garth Ennis’s Wormwood but also Mark Millar’s Chosen. Chosen would’ve given DC/Vertigo a real shot in the arm when it desperately needed one. But no. I’ll bet Millar and Ennis never even bothered pitching their books to DC because, well, DC is a wuss.
And, once again, they wussed out. Zero surprise.
Now, the comic has ended up at Ahoy Comics, which has been around about six months, and has books from creators like Tom Peyer and Stuart Moore… who used to be DC guys, until DC stopped paying people in money and switched over to WB Shop gift certificates.
Frank Miller's Robocop; Avatar Press; issues 1-9 (of 9); 2003-06; $3.50 to $3.99, 36 pgs ea.; collection (2007), $29.99.
Like most media with a Frank Miller credit on it, Frank Miller’s Robocop does not aged well. More accurately, as far as Robocop goes anyway, it doesn’t improve with age or maturity. It was always as bad as it is now, every reading another bloody stab at nostalgia. Frank Miller’s Robocop is an adaptation of Miller’s original Robocop 2 script. It’s a pseudo-infamous script—Miller, hot off Dark Knight loves Robocop and writes the sequel. There’s a writer’s strike in there somewhere. When the sequel finally does get made, Miller’s script has been rewritten by Walon Green (who wrote some of The Wild Bunch script). The sequel doesn’t get a good reaction, everyone starts thinking it’s because Miller’s script got rewritten. But then Miller’s back for Robocop 3, which should seem weird but actually makes perfect sense because they’re really just using his Robocop 2 script ideas.
So Frank Miller’s Robocop initially comes off more like a Robocop 3 adaptation than a Robocop 2. The first three issues are just Robocop 3, then with 2 elements, but still with a bunch of 3 going on. If only adapter Steven Grant could unravel all these threads….
And he doesn’t. He leaves Robocop entirely jumbled, with Juan Jose Ryp’s highly detailed, precisely messy, very busy art not doing anything to save the comic. Ryp’s art never really hurts it—whoever gives him too many pages for action scenes, for example, is the one who hurts it. Ryp does well with fast paced action. He doesn’t do well slowing down to go through a throw-by-throw. Especially not with the comic’s version of “Robocop 2,” the big villain (sort of) in the finale. It usually feels like Grant’s never seen Ryp’s art, otherwise no one would plot out the scene the way Grant does.
Editing matters. Though with Frank Miller’s Robocop you probably don’t get to tell Frank Miller how his ideas are so bad, even a franchise-desperate movie studio could improve on them.
I’ve read this series something like three times now. Maybe four. Definitely three. I’ve read it as published (often delayed), I’ve read it slowly, I’ve binged it. It never gets any better. There’s never enough story for the issues or even the series. The first three have something like an arc, which suggests Grant might do something similar with the back six, but he doesn’t. Once the big action set pieces start, the comic rushes to get out of there way so Ryp can have too many pages to do boring action.
In the end, all Frank Miller’s Robocop does is raise questions not particularly worth having answered—did Miller write any of these characters any better, did he really have such bad plotting or was Grant trying to make it fit the nine issues (it feels like there’s one missing, though who’d want to read another one).
Robocop 2, the movie, is far from great shakes, but seeing notes on Miller’s script from the studio execs? Seeing those might be interesting, if only because there’s so much to “fix.”
(It’s also strange how few of the “regular” cast show up in the script. Makes you wonder what Miller liked about the first movie).
Funny story (I mean, relatively). As a big fan of the film The Year of the Comet, I got the Twilight Time Blu-ray (which I still haven’t watched). On opening the box, I read the back of the Blu-ray, curious about the critics’ quotes for such an undeservedly ignored light, competent comedy. There was one quote about Tim Daly, which I appreciated and agreed with, then realized it was from my post on Stop Button.
Glad I agreed with myself.
But when I saw Lara Witt had written about Captain Marvel, I was a little torn about reading the post. I love Witt’s work, but… I really liked Captain Marvel, was her post going to make me think differently about the film. Especially since I’ve had friends say hearing/reading me talk about movies ruins the movie for them.
Which I always take to mean I’m right.
But what was Witt going to say about Captain Marvel, especially since I’m a forty year-old cishet white male and she’s… not.
So… basically we have the same take. Stuff I didn’t talk about in my post at length because I wouldn’t do it justice. Witt does it justice.
Today I decided to also fold Summing Up into Visual Reflux. Until today, it hadn’t really occurred to me. One about the seven to ten blogs I’ve started after starting The Stop Button in 2004? I didn’t name the most successful one. Comics Fondle . I didn’t name it. I didn’t name Visual Reflux. I collaborated on the Visual Reflux name but the idea wasn’t mine. Only Stop Button, Summing Up, and Televisual Feast were my names. And that carried over, initially, to how possessive I was going to be of Visual Reflux. However, after going back and forth on where to host the site, on how to host the site, on how to get SSL to work, and now how to get the RSS feed secure enough, I’ve gotten possessive of Visual Reflux.
And so into the fold goes Summing Up. Leaving The Stop Button and my Micro.blog. The Stop Button will not be a direct mirror on Visual Reflux. I’m not sure today what kind of mirror it will be. It might be the best movies I watch, might be the contemporary movies, might be recently released on home video movies, might just be a post I enjoyed writing, probably be some kind of combination of those categories. Though it was hard to talk about Captain Marvel, which I posted on Reflux early. It’s gotten hard to talk about the Marvel movies if only because the concept of soulless franchise movies succeeding is very strange. Thanks, Disney, I guess.
Depending on how the cross-posting works, I may litter the Internet over on Televisual Feast. Comics Fondle will have cross-posting for the foreseeable future. It makes the most sense for what I’m doing right now… Conglomerating. Now I just need to figure out what my word count targets for Reflux.
I think, as far as movie posts go, I’ll be only doing positive cross-posts. I’ve been thinking about maybe doing “flashback” posts to old movie posts, but moving all the sites’ histories over opens a can of worms best left closed. Every time I’ve done an archive or a post collection, I’ve gone through those first year or so posts of Stop Button when it was on jablog and it just doesn’t fit with what comes afterwards. While Visual Reflux isn’t going to be so worried about “fitting,” it is going to be my 2019 writing project. Principally.
Now I have the RSS feed working, anyway.
Alien: Isolation; IGN; seven episodes, approx. 10 minutes ea.; 2019; streaming on YouTube.
Anything I write about “Alien: Isolation: The Digital Series” is going to have some bit of explanation for why I would subject myself to such a viewing experience. So I might as well just get it out of the way now.
I’m an Alien sucker. Always have been. The franchise is like 2001 just with action. Sort of. You get grandiose space visuals, you get sci-fi action, you get slimy monsters. And “Isolation” is a curiosity. Ostensibly a low time investment one. It’s not a comic book, it’s not a mobile game, it’s a video game’s cutscenes assembled not into a movie but into a series of ten minute episodes. Seven of them.
The story to “Isolation”—the game and series—is Sigourney Weaver’s daughter who we only ever saw in a photograph as an old lady in Aliens, possibly holding a cat but maybe not, goes on an adventure when she’s a hot young video game lead to find the Nostromo’s flight recorder. Because it can’t mess up continuity. Though, who really cares since they didn’t get Sigourney Weaver to do a voiceover in the game and instead replaced her with some generic person. Weaver did return to do a voice for some of the game’s DLC, so… clearly she was willing to cash the video game check. But whatever.
I watched the whole series. Even if it did take about a week because I lost interest in it after the first two episodes. See, the animation is crap on a bunch of it. Alien: Isolation, the video game, is first person so they added a model of—the daughter’s name is Amanda, who is mediocrely (at best) voiced by Andrea Deck.
It says on IMDb Sigourney Weaver did the voice of Ripley Ripley in the game, so the guys who made the “Digital Series” mustn’t have wanted to pay her again.
Cheap on so many levels.
(Unless it is Sigourney Weaver and her voiceover work is that bad, in which case she should retire immediately).
Anyway, some of the animation is fine. Some of it is crap. See the examples.
The direction—credited to Fabien Dubois—is lousy, ditto the editing from Romain Rioult, and whatever writing Jeff Juhasz does. They added new material, which is probably whenever the cutscene stuff runs out and there’s just lousy animation with bad detail, bad dubbing, and awful walking animation.
When I first read about “The Digital Series,” I was vaguely intrigued. There’s a lot of cutscene content out there. If you rendered it special, could you easily turn video games into streaming shows?
Not if “Isolation” is any example, but it’s so lazy it’s almost like the question is still open.
I’d also heard Isolation is a good game. Wasting the brain cells watching the series, I know not to bother playing it. As time goes on—it’s the fortieth anniversary of Alien so there are various cash-in attempts (including a so far so good comic book adaptation of Gibson’s Alien 3 script)—but as we get further away from Alien (mostly Aliens) the clearer it’s becoming anything after Aliens was a mistake. Every effort since has been, if not half-assed, at least compromised.
Or just plain crappy.
Though I do suppose “Isolation”’s godawful alien movement—the actual movement of the creature—could lead to some funny GIFs.
Scott Mendelson gives a behind-the-scenes on what it’s like to be a Rotten Tomatoes contributing critic. I wouldn’t know because RT never let me in, even back when Stop Button was arguably getting enough traffic to support that entry.
It doesn’t get that much traffic anymore, of course. And I don’t read Rotten Tomatoes, but if it’s going to be on DVD and Blu-ray covers and probably some theatrical posters as advertising? People should at least understand how it works. I understood how it worked, but it’d been a while since I’d read anything on it and Scott Mendelson’s got a fantastic way of breaking it down.
Captain Marvel; Marvel Studios (Walt Disney Pictures); 2019; 124m; in theaters.
Captain Marvel is difficult to incapsulate. Its successes are many, some of its achievements truly singular (the CG-de-aging of Sam Jackson, combined with Jackson’s “youthful” performance, is spectacular), and there’s always something else. Even when you get past all the major things—first female Marvel superhero movie, franchise prequel, “period piece,” inverted character arcs, big plot twists—there’s something else you can find in the plotting or how directors Boden and Fleck stick with a joke. If they make a joke work, they don’t let up on it. Ever. They turn it into character development. Even when it ought to be absurd, they make it work.
But most of all there’s lead Brie Larson, who gets some big moments in the film—sometimes through the grandiose handling, direction-wise, but also sometimes in her performance. Marvel is a fast movie—once Larson crash-lands on Earth, the present action is around a day. And Larson’s got a lot to do in those twenty-four hours. The film doesn’t start on Earth, it starts off on a highly advanced alien planet, where Larson is living and working for Jude Law in a kind of space special forces unit. Larson’s from somewhere else (Earth) but doesn’t remember it (Earth). Larson’s aliens are warring with a different species of alien; this other alien species can shape-shift, which is a problem because they invade planets and take them over and they’ve just followed Larson to Earth.
Where she fairly quickly realizes she’s from Earth, sending on her a quest to find herself, with sidekick Jackson in tow. Jackson’s simultaneously the comic relief and the audience’s view into the action, but only for tying in the latter (sorry, earlier) Marvel movies. Who knows what he actually looked like when acting the scenes, but Jackson’s performance is awesome. He does great with the “aliens are real” thing, he does great as the sidekick. He and Larson are wonderful together, even though it’s mostly just for the smiles and laughs. Boden and Fleck take all the smiles they can get. Not every laugh, but definitely all the smiles. Captain Marvel, even with its harshness, is fun.
Often that fun comes from Larson’s wiseass lead, who might not remember anything about her life on Earth but still remembers how to be a good Earth movie wiseass. The wiseass stuff is never to deflect from the emotion either. It informs the character and performance; there’s no avoidance, not even when the film could get away with it thanks to the amnesia angle. Marvel takes the right parts of itself seriously.
Like the friendship between Larson and Lashana Lynch. There’s a lot left unsaid in the film, which is fine as it’s an action-packed superhero movie with warring aliens and not a character drama, but Larson and Lynch quickly work up a great onscreen rapport. It’s not as fun as Larson’s interactions with Jackson, but it’s part of where the film finds its emotional sincerity. Captain Marvel never leverages the emotional sincerity; for example, when there’s danger, Boden and Fleck will defuse it (quickly) with a laugh instead. The defusing doesn’t get rid of the emotional sincerity either, though some of that emotional sincerity is the only way the filmmakers can get away with the plot twists. It helps Larson is, you know, a seemingly indestructible superhero.
Lynch has a daughter, Akira Akbar, who used to know Larson too. Lynch and Akbar come into the film in the middle, so it’s a surprise how much influence Akbar’s going to have on Larson’s character arc (and performance). Because until the big interstellar finale, there’s a lot of focus on Larson’s reaction to recent events. Often for laughs, sometimes for narrative, but her character is fairly static. Sure, she’s on a quest for information but she’s got no idea the relevance of that information. Just it has something to do with Annette Bening.
Bening is—for the most part—just the personification of this alien A.I. god when it communicates with Larson. Everyone sees something different when synced with the A.I. god. Larson sees a Bening avatar and eventually tracks down the real Bening. Bening is both clue and solution to Larson’s puzzle. Larson doesn’t have all the pieces or the box to guide her putting them together—and the puzzle’s fairly simple (again, it’s an action-packed superhero movie with space aliens) but Larson brings more than enough in the performance department. Pretty much everyone brings the necessary gravitas then takes it up a notch.
Marvel is always an effective film, in no small part thanks to its cast and the direction of that cast. Bening and Law are quite good (though Bening’s far better with even less “character” than Law), Lynch and Akbar are good, Ben Mendelsohn is awesome as the leader of the bad aliens (the shape-shifters). His performance—despite constant special effects and makeup—is understated, reserved. Even with the constant element of surprise—he’s a shape-shifter, after all—Mendelsohn’s performance is tight. Plus he gets some laughs, usually at Jackson’s expense.
Larson’s really good. Plot-wise, nothing Marvel throws at her slows her down. Larson’s able to find the sincerity in the broad dramatic strokes. Like the books, sincere performances… they do a lot. Larson’s particularly great with both Lynch and Akbar, implying a forgotten familiarity counter to her overt behaviors in a moment.
And the supporting cast of ragtag aliens and Men in Black (including a de-aged Clark Gregg in a fine shoe-in) is all effective. They don’t need to do much. Larson, Jackson, Mendelsohn, Lynch… they’ve got it covered.
Technically, the film’s just as strong. The CG is all excellent, the photography (from Ben Davis) is good, ditto Debbie Berman and Elliot Graham’s editing. Andy Nicholson’s production design—of nineties Earth in particular—is good. Basically everything except Pinar Toprak’s score, which often feels too small for such a big film. It’s not bad music, sometimes it’s really effective, but it’s also yet another indistinct Marvel superhero movie score. It’s all about accompanying the action, not guiding it, which is a whole other discussion. Occasionally it’s really spot on, but mostly it’s just there.
Kind of like the nineties pop music. It sort of works—having grunge-y songs for the 1994-set act—but it seems like a big miss Boden and Fleck never explore, you know, what kind of music Larson would’ve liked when she was on Earth and not just whatever is time-period appropriate.
Doesn’t Marvel czar and Marvel producer Kevin Feige like music?
Captain Marvel. It sets out to do a lot of things and succeeds in all of them. The film puts the galaxy on Larson’s shoulders; she deadlifts with it. Boden and Fleck have a wonderful way of making it fun for the audience when they take a moment to check a requisite plot point box. They—Larson, Boden, and Fleck–and the hundred animators who made Samuel L. Jackson, well, Sam Jackson again—do something special with Captain Marvel.