Review: Sherlock - Series 1

At last, a Sherlock Holmes adaptation that's actually good.

As longtime readers of my blog will know, all of the Sherlock Holmes film adaptations or public domain spin-offs that I have reviewed  have been sorely lacking, to say the least. I will not go into the specifics here, but I will say that each and every one of the ones that I have viewed or read did not, I believe, succeed in depicting a version of the Great Detective that was at all true to the original Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stories. I confess that I myself have not actually gotten around to reading those stories, but I have it on good authority from someone who has read them that the adaptations that I mentioned were infinitely inadequate, and, might I add, sensationally stupid.

BBC's Sherlock, however, is a different story.

Set in 21st century London, this adaptation features a modern Dr. John Watson recently returned from a tour of duty in Afghanistan, just like he was in the original stories. He's limping through life, perfectly miserable because, as he says, "Nothing happens to me." Then, through a mutual friend, John meets a truly strange person, who immediately discerns his whole life's story just from a look at the good doctor's cell phone. Before he knows it, this new acquaintance has invited him to become his new flatmate. The man's name? Do I even have to say it? ...Fine. Sherlock Holmes!

Sherlock and John, played by Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, respectively, are featured in a series of three 90-minute installments in this, Series 1 of Sherlock. From helping the police track down a serial killer to fighting a ruthless Chinese Triad to racing the clock against a mysterious malefactor, with it all being overshadowed by an enigmatic mastermind, Sherlock and John have all sorts of daring adventures. John is with confidence able to say to Sherlock's brother Mycroft, "I'm never bored."

Sherlock gets practically everything right. The cast and writers are, as I understand it, the cream of the crop in British Telly. Though all of the actors and actresses are top-notch, of particular note are the two leads, Cumberbatch (or "Benny" as some of my sister's fangirl friends are fond of calling him) and Freeman. The are undeniably the foremost of the cast, along with Rupert Graves as Lestrade and Mark Gatiss as Mycroft. Cumberbatch portrays a Sherlock Holmes who is cold and efficient, a self-described sociopath who is slowly learning empathy and humility. This is marked contrast to Robert Downey, Jr.'s clownish, half-baked performance. I remember hearing somewhere that if these two depictions could be met somewhere in the middle, we'd have a perfect Sherlock Holmes. As it is, I believe that Cumberbatch is the superior Sherlock Holmes, giving us a charismatic, memorable execution which continues to impress me as I re-watch this show in preparation for finally viewing Series 3. (No spoilers, please!)

Much also should be said for Martin Freeman's John Watson. Freeman is one of my favorite actors, up there with James Frain and Liam Neeson. I loved him as Arthur Dent in Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I loved him as Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, and I love him here as John. The thing about Martin Freeman is that he's an incredibly versatile actor, handling a wide range of roles, both comedic and dramatic. He manages to bring the full force of both of those propensities into his acting on this show, pulling off hilarious punchlines and sobering drama. It's fortunate that we have such a talented actor such as Freeman in the role of the viewpoint character of Dr. John Watson, perhaps equally as important that we have as incredible an actor as Benedict Cumberbatch in the role of Sherlock Holmes.

Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are the two creative minds behind Sherlock. Though I am still a relative novice in the world of British Telly, being only vaguely familiar with Doctor Who (I'm still bogged down in Season 1) and the like, I do know this: These people genuinely love the Sherlock Holmes stories. They are dedicated to making the coolest, greatest, best Sherlock Holmes adaptation that all the might of the BBC can produce. This is present in everything from the characters to the plot details, with small tidbits like a text message that Sherlock sends John in the first episode having the same text as a telegram that Holmes sends Watson in one of the stories. Speaking of texting, this is very much a modern update of Sherlock Holmes, with key facets of the plot hinging on things like cell phones and the internet. Where Holmes smoked a pipe, Sherlock uses nicotine patches. In the hands of lesser talent, such an adaptation would be gimmicky at best and hamfisted at worst, but Moffat, Gatiss, and their compatriots are not by any means lesser talent.

Moffat in particular has a brilliant sense of suspense and mystery, as seen in the first episode of the series, "A Study in Pink." The mood is set perfectly right off the bat. It is very noirish, very stylish and techie. It kind of hearkens back to the '60s acid trips that you might see in the early episodes of Columbo. The most prominent feature of the show, however, transcends its stylish facade. Sherlock has a special brand of fast-paced humor and fun which makes you smile and gets you excited about what's going on in a way that few televisions shows manage do do. Above all, however, it's very intelligent, smart fun.What I'm saying here is that Sherlock is unusually cerebral for a television show, for in the end, any Sherlock Holmes story should be highly cerebral. I normally believe that television is a pretty watered down form of entertainment which cultivates dimwitted thinking in its viewers, but Sherlock is one of the few exceptions. This is one of those TV shows that makes you think.

The series' only con, however, is just what I pointed out as it's greatest strength: Being cerebral. Sometimes the mysteries presented in this show are a bit difficult to wrap my mind around, especially in "The Great Game", where you have multiple mysteries interwoven with each other with complicated solutions. As the old saying goes, "The devil's in the details." Sherlock is just so dadblamed smart that sometimes even I can't keep up with it. This is, I think, my third viewing of Series 1 and only now have I managed to understand who killed Connie Prince and why.

In summary, Sherlock is easily the best active Sherlock Holmes adaptation on the market today. Indeed, it is fitting that a classic work of English literature is being adapted by the BBC in a modern, tightly plotted update of the Great Detective, who, as it happens, is the most adapted literary figure in history. With awesome acting, cool characters, fantastic humor, and dynamic drama, it is not only the best Sherlock Holmes adaptation out there, but also one of the best adaptations period. Heck, it's one of the best TV shows out there period. A word of warning, however: Being a mystery crime drama, it is a bit intense for younger audiences, with a smattering of bad language and some blood and violence. Better to reserve this for viewers 15 and up.

RATING: 10/10

Image courtesy of wukaifeng.com

The Theatre and I

My history with the stage is... complicated.

I used to go with my family all the time to Story Book Theatre's musical productions as the Carco Theatre. I remember enjoying those shows immensely, and I've occasionally gone there with my family in recent years. The theatre there is a bit silly to me now, but I still have good memories of it.

When I was in elementary school, I was part of my church's children's choir, KWAM (Kids With A Mission). We put on small musical productions for our church. I sang in the choir, played a few parts, and said a few lines. I have a lot of good memories from there. I even got KWAM Kid of the Year in my final year there. I can't say that I learned much about the finer points of acting and singing, or the finer points of anything theatre related, but I still had a fairly good time.

My next experience with the theatre was my Musical Theatre class in Junior High. There I began acting and singing in earnest, if not particularly well. It was a pretty fun class, and I made some good friends there. I wound up playing the Wolf in Into the Woods, Jr. I pretty much made a complete fool of myself both on and off the stage, for in those days of youthful folly, I saw fit to play the buffoon. As I was stuck in my uncomfortable Wolf costume backstage most of the time and could not get a hold of a video recording of the play, I have no idea whether the play itself was good or bad. But I do know that we players put a lot of effort into the production and that our teacher was just as enthusiastic and dedicated as we were. In sum, I consider that class to have been a positive experience overall.

Since then, I have not participated in any theatrical production whatsoever. However, there is no end to the amount of such productions that I have attended, none of which were particularly good.

Aside from the Story Book Theatre productions that I have occasionally gone to, I have seen several of my youngest sister's church musicals (now called Agape Kid's Choir as opposed to KWAM). I hate to speak ill of anything done with a good heart and a sincere spirit, especially from my own church, but these children's church musicals aren't exactly high class entertainment. In case it helps, however, I have been to plenty of non-church theatrical productions which can be described the same way. There were a couple of school musicals involving friends of my aforementioned youngest sister, such as Honk! Jr. and Narnia: The Musical. (The latter is a sad case of a great idea stunted by a poor script.)

The only "professional" theatre productions I've attended, other than Story Book Theatre, of course, are a few productions put on by the Renton Civic Theatre. I once went to a 70's musical version of Shakespeare's Two Gentlemen from Verona. Seriously. My dad and I scored some tickets and thought it might be fun. It actually quite stupid, silly, and dull, not being so ridiculous as to qualify as charmingly goofy, but going completely over the top. Needless to say, my dad and I left during the intermission, after which we went to the only late-night movie I've ever been to, The Last Airbender, which was arguably equally awful, if not more so. But that's another post.

Just two Sundays ago, my dad and I went to see another production from the Renton Civic Theatre. To be specific, it was their Summer Teen Musical, starring High School and college age actors from around the area. I was very excited to go to this play, as I believed that it would be a fun experience. What was it called? The Wedding Singer, that's what. If I had done my research, I would known that The Wedding Singer is the name of a 1998 Adam Sandler movie, on which the play was plainly based. This alone should have been enough to deter me, as Adam Sandler is the only actor whom I genuinely loathe. At least, he is now. I now thank the most high God that I failed to persuade the rest of my family to attend the play with my father and me.

Suffice it to say, the play was vulgar and base, substituting profanity for wit and sexual innuendo for punchlines. If what I witnessed was capable of staining the suit I wore, it would never have come out. As it is, the horrid stain upon my memory remains. I'm sure it doesn't help that the movie the play was adapted from wasn't exactly the best source material, but surely whoever was responsible for that monstrosity of a play was intelligent enough to understand that it was complete pigswill. What kind of person who works with High School students honestly wants them to parade in front of their parents, friends, and relatives belting out song lyrics which are awash in obscenities? I honestly don't know, though if the enthusiastic applause of my fellow audience members was anything to go by, I was evidently the only one who cared about this rather disconcerting implication. (As a side note, I must say that as appalled as I was by the crass jokes that gushed forth from the actors' mouths, I was even more shocked at the laughter that was coming from mine.) I do not mean to disparage the acting and singing talent of the cast, but the play's libretto was fantastically foul.

I am now at a crossroads regarding theatre. All of my experience with theatre has been substandard at best and outrageously tasteless at worst. Should I seek out better examples of theatre and the stage, or should I give it all up and stick with movies and books? Are my experiences a survey of the whole of modern theatre, or is it only an unfortunate dip into a muddy portion of the pond? Am I a theatre person? Is theatre for me?

To answer my own questions, I don't know. I'd have to go see more plays, do better preliminary research, and spend more money. Until then, I earnestly reach out to you, gentle reader, for a bit of help. Are there any books on theatre you could recommend? Have any of you experience with professional theatre? Is all theatre as bowdlerized as disco Shakespeare was, or as profane and bawdy as The Wedding Singer was? I certainly hope not. Until then, "So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.”(Puck, A Midsummer Night's Dream.)

Fun fact: Into the Woods is set to be made into a movie by Disney, to be released this December. Considering what the full, unabridged play actually was like, I'd be cautious. It's not exactly Into the Woods Jr.

Image courtesy of theguardian.com

Review: The Bucket List

The Bucket List is quite unlike any other film that I have ever seen before. What I really mean by this, however, is that it's a feel-good movie. I have never in my own memory watched or reviewed a feel-good movie. I had heard of The Bucket List before, and thought that it sounded interesting. My curiosity was partially piqued due to the two leads, Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman, who had previously starred as the Joker in Batman '89 and Lucius Fox in The Dark Knight Saga, respectively. So, here we have two A-list actors who both have experience acting in Batman films, starring together in a feel-good movie. The question, however, is "Does this movie 'feel good' at all, and should it?"


The basic premise of the movie is that two old, terminally ill men, a rich guy named Edward Cole (Nicholson) and a history buff auto mechanic named Carter Chambers (Freeman) wind up in the same hospital room, become friends, and decide to use their limited remaining time to go around the world doing cool and fun stuff. Inspired by Carter's "bucket list," Edward uses his insurmountable resources to ferry him and Carter everywhere from some place in the desert to the Himalayas to Hong Kong. In between skydiving and camping out in the savannah, Edward and Carter talk about weighty subjects such as family and the meaning of life.

First and foremost, I want to be clear that even though this movie was treated pretty roughly by the critics, including the late Roger Ebert, I actually liked it a lot. It was funny, well acted, and actually pretty touching. I understand that Mr. Ebert, who also suffers from cancer, had complaints about the realism of the movie, such as hospitals generally making a lot of money offering private rooms for a fee, or Carter's wife being "remarkably restrained" at him going gallivanting around the world, and the unfortunate implications of Freeman, a black actor, spending all these movies (such as The Shawshank Redemption and Million Dollar Baby) praising characters portrayed by white actors, or the apparently selfish nature of Edward's entirely selfless attempt to spend time enjoying life with a good friend. I admit that the former accusation is definitely well-founded, though I must point out that one does not watch a feel-good movie for the tight plot. In addition, there is actually a great scene where Nicholson's character does exactly what Mr. Ebert says never happens in the movie: He praises Freeman's character. I admit that the movie probably isn't the best depiction of terminal illness around, but not every movie can be The Fault in our Stars.

Mr. Ebert's admittedly credible and esteemed opinions aside, I still found this movie enjoyable, if not particularly memorable. The gags are enough to make you double over with laughter, laughing out loud, uproariously, and gladly. Nicholson and Freeman put on their best performances here, being great foils to each other, with a dynamic which is both comedic and dramatic. In fact, every actor is noteworthy in this film. I can't think of single one that did a sub-par job. And like any feel-good movie, it actually succeeds in making the viewer feel good. I don't doubt Mr. Ebert's assertions that the movie doesn't portray cancer as realistically as is could have, but I wouldn't call in insensitive. It would only be insensitive if the movie made a joke out of the issue, the movie actually making cancer the crux of the film's dramatic side.

On the whole, The Bucket List isn't exactly worthy of Frank Capra or Martin Scorsese, but it does succeed in what it sets out to do: Present an uplifting, tear-worthy flick that is easily likeable and really funny. I must warn, however, that there is a smattering of severe expletives (Edward is the main offender), one obscene gesture, and some sexual innuendo. This may be a real good feel-good movie, but I wouldn't advise that you watch it with your kids. For those of you out there who have an opinion on this sort of thing and have seen The Bucket List, what do you think of the cancer issue? Was it too lighthearted? What do you think? Feel free to let me know in the comments section.

RATING: 7.5/10

Image courtesy of wikipedia.org

Review: The Book Thief

The German poet Heinrich Heine once wrote, "Them that begin by burning books, end by burning men." (Kudos to Indiana Jones for that quote!) By the end of The Book Thief, written by Australian author Markus Zusak, Liesel Meminger probably understands this better than some college professors. She should know. Being the titular character, she makes a career of petty theft throughout the story, specializing in stealing books. Beginning in 1939, ten year old Liesel arrives in a poor neighborhood of a small town near Munich, brought in by a foster family after her biological mother can no longer support her. Her brother dies of disease on the train ride there, leaving Liesel deeply shaken, but also leading her to begin her career in book theft. Suffice it to say, she steals a manual on grave digging from the cemetery where her brother is buried, but doesn't begin her book thieving career in earnest until later, where she steals a book from a Nazi party book burning.

From there, everything changes.

Liesel, initially illiterate, is taught to read by her loving foster father, the accordion playing, cigarette smoking Hans Hubermann. She becomes best friends with the incorrigible boy next door, Rudy Steiner. She becomes the heavyweight champion of the local schoolyard. She is drafted into the Hitler Youth. She befriends the young Jewish boxer that her foster family takes in. She accompanies Arthur Berg and Rudy on apple stealing expeditions. And she keeps stealing books.

What is particularly notable about this book is that, unlike so many other popular young adult novels, such as The Hunger Games and Divergent, it is not written in first person per se. It's a mixture of first, second, and third person in the form of an omniscient narrator, identified both within the novel and specifically by Zusak in interviews as Death. While I contest on theological grounds the anthropomorphic portrayal of Death as a sentient, thinking being, I have to admit that Zusak's choice of Death as the narrator of a book set in Germany during the Second World War is a stroke of brilliance. In the book, Death is a wearied, put-upon being who yearns for a vacation and is amused by human conceptions of him. (At one point, he notes that he does not carry a scythe and that he only wears big black cloaks on cold days.) He is not a sadist, but rather a disinterested, even compassionate being. He goes so far as to directly contest the assertion that "War is death's best friend." In The Book Thief, Death is literally as much a main character as Liesel Meminger.

Speaking of characters, Zukas manages to successfully work with a large cast and make them all stand out in their own way. They all feel well rounded and realistic, like they're really living and breathing on the other side of the fourth wall. Everyone from Liesel, Rudy, and Max Vandenburg (the aforementioned young Jewish boxer) to Ilsa Hermann, Tommy Mueller, and Frau Diller have a clear cut motivation and characterization, all of which work together like a well trained orchestra, producing an equally grand result. The most interesting character in the book, I think, is Hans Hubermann (my personal favorite is Max). In him are wrapped up many of the prevailing themes of this book. Courage versus cowardice. Survivor's guilt. The power of love. Those are just a few of the many powerful themes present in this book, but we'll discuss those later.

Of course, with great characters that you can relate to and love, that also means that they are characters who you will be crushed to read about when their unfortunate fates are mentioned. I won't go into detail for risk of spoilers, but let's just say that you're going to come away from this book very, very sad. I sure did. But the sadness and emotion generated in the reader is only a payoff for the suspense built up throughout the whole book. The reader is constantly kept guessing at just what will happen, how this plot thread will unravel, who does what, what happens to whom. If nothing else, The Book Thief is unpredictable. Most of the time, that's a good thing. This is one of those times.

Oddly enough, the least interesting character in this book is probably Liesel herself, though that's not necessarily a bad thing. Though the story is ostensibly about her, most of the focus is on the events and people going on and about around her as she perceives it. How she reacts to it is generally how the reader reacts to it. She's still a well-rounded, complex character, but not to the degree that a lot of the others, such as Rudy, Max, Hans, or even Rosa Hubermann (Liesel's foster mother) are. She is, in a word, a viewpoint character, and a darn good one at that. I actually learned in my creative writing class last year that the main character shouldn't necessarily always be the most interesting, for the sake of telling a good story. If they are the most interesting character in the cast, then it's usually harder to write a good story, something only the best writers can usually pull off. Again, this is not a bad thing, and the book actually benefited from it in the end.

Major themes in this book other than those previously mentioned include death (obviously), war, friendship, family, love, compassion, loss, grief, different perspectives in a conflict, and hope. A lot of heavy stuff. The most pervasive and obvious theme, however, is the power of words. Liesel, Max, and Death both note that words have great power, and can be used for either good or evil. That's a lesson that needs to be taught a little more often in this day and age.

A word of warning, however. This book is quite plainly enough a young adult book, mainly because of the ubiquitous profanity, both German and English. I'd think that for someone who reads a lot, Liesel would have a larger vocabulary, though she does by the end of the book. As it is, all of the characters, except Ilsa Hermann, swear at least a little, but the primary offender is Rosa Hubermann, so take what you will from that. There's also a lot of, well, death, and destruction, and some other nasty things that I dare not mention in polite company. Moreover, The Book Thief doesn't seem to condemn the eponymous character's actions so much as it observes them, but I can't help but note that stealing, whatever the reason, is stealing, specifically prohibited by the eighth commandment. I do hope that Liesel, noted by Death to be a Lutheran, paid heed to Ephesians 4:28 in her later years.

Nevertheless, The Book Thief is without a doubt one of the greatest books that I have ever read, with a style and excellence in writing that reminds me of Louis Sachar, Jeanne DuPrau, and even Eoin Colfer. I therefore see fit to award this book with the highest rating which I can bestow upon it. I also look forward to reading another of Markus Zusak's award-winning books, I Am the Messenger. It sounds quite good. I also hope to view The Book Thief's recent film adaption of the same name, though I've been told that it's "so-so." Ah well. Worth a shot, right?

RATING: 10/10

Image courtesy of barnesandnoble.com

The Chronicles of Narnia: Renowned for a Reason

I remember my dear mother introducing me to the works of C.S. Lewis in a small, Christian book store. She took the liberty of purchasing all seven books of The Chronicles of Narnia for me when I was seven, promising that I would be provided with the acclaimed radio dramas produced by Focus on the Family Radio Theatre based on that series. I read through the whole series in a year, with the exception of The Silver Chair. I cannot of course say that I fully appreciated the greatness of this series at such a young age, but even then I was undoubtedly enthralled by them, and returned to them for many years afterward.

The Chronicles of Narnia is a high fantasy adventure series, telling of the adventures of a group of humans from our world, living in the first half of the twentieth century, and their adventures in the fantastical land of Narnia. Narnia is a land of magic, mythical beasts, and talking animals, ruled by the noble lion, Aslan. The first of the seven books written and published in the series was The Lion, the Witch, and The Wardrobe, and the last published was The Last Battle. However, Lewis worked with an eager fan to have the series organized in chronological order, so that they began with The Magician's Nephew and ended with The Last Battle, having Wardrobe coming second. To make matters even more complicated, the books actually written in yet another different order.

The thing about all of Lewis' fiction, insofar as I have read, is that he manages to successfully combine Rule of Fun with Rule of Symbolism. Each of the books in the Narnia saga manages to present an allegory of some sort, and Lewis loved allegory. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was an allegory about Christ's sacrifice. The fifth book, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, is an allegory about the walk of a Christian's life. The Last Battle, clearly enough, is an allegory about the end times. Even Prince Caspian, the least popular book in the series, though one of my personal favorites, has themes about restoration of true faith after a period of spiritual hibernation.

Other, more overarching themes present in all the books are faith, forgiveness, love, patriotism, friendship, creation, corruption, sacrifice, and redemption. To put it another way, every book has something to say about something important, while at the same time telling a great story. The conversational, Lemony narration present throughout the books draws the reader in, making her hang on to the last period. Of course, Lewis' writing style in this series matures as time goes on, but retains that unique flavor that all great authors have. This is particularly evident if you read the books in publication order, though I myself have only read them in chronological order. Perhaps I will try the former pattern next time I read the series.

My favorite book in the series is most certainly The Horse and His Boy. Although it has been criticized by some fans due to its standalone nature, this installment in the Narnia saga is very near and dear to me. I like it because it is not only a wonderful adventure story, but because of the allegory it contains. That allegory is of a person's journey from being an unbeliever to being a Christian. This is represented not only in the literal journey to Narnia as depicted in the book, but also in the book's three central characters, Shasta, Bree, and Aravis, as they change and develop throughout the story. It also plays host to one of my favorite female characters in all of literature, Aravis, and also one of the most memorable characters in the whole Narnia series, a talking warhorse named Bree. It may be the odd-man out in the series, but it's probably the most memorable.

Due to being very, very good books, The Chronicles of Narnia are also incredibly popular, having been translated into 47 languages, with more than 100 million copies sold. They have all been in print continuously since their original publication in the 1950s, and they don't look like they'll be running out of steam any time soon. In addition, Focus on the Family Radio Theatre made a series of audio dramas based on the books in the early 2000s, and they even aired on BBC Radio in 2005. They are all excellent, if slightly abridged, productions which I absolutely loved. I highly recommend them.

There are also the various Narnia film adaptations. I haven't seen the BBC adaptations, and I therefore will reserve judgement until I do. In the meantime, the more recent film adaptations done by Walden Media, Disney, and 20th Century Fox, are a more complex case. Their adaptation of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe was quite good, without a doubt the best of those made. I originally was pretty hostile to the adaptation of Prince Caspian due to the film's flagrant deviations from the source material, not mention a few glaring plot holes. However, it was still a fairly good film. The adaptation of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, however, is a sad case. To cut a long story short, it deviated from the source material even more than the previous film, and wasn't even a good movie, for a variety reasons which we won't go into here. True, there were some good things about it, but it was mostly bad. There is an adaptation of The Silver Chair currently in the works, and I hope that it will redeem the series. Until then, my experience with the cinematic Narnia has been sadly stunted.

In short, The Chronicles of Narnia are a remarkable series which everyone should read. That's right, everyone. Douglas Gresham, Lewis' stepson, has said that those who believe that these books are for children only are "sadly mistaken." These books speak to people of all ages, and will be found entertaining for different reasons by children and adults alike. They contain great wisdom, great storytelling, and great writing. Narnia is something I have loved since childhood, and hope to continue loving well into my adulthood, where I will share them with the younger generation. Until then, Lewis' most famous work is the primary reason that Lewis is among the most prominent of my influences, and for that, I once again salute him.

Image courtesy of vintagenovels.com

Review: Road to Marvel's the Avengers

Note: After a week-long vacation in an undisclosed location, I have now returned to blogging. Please return to enjoy this blog post. Also, congratulations to my grandparents, Pat and Jeanne Sweeney, on their 50th wedding anniversary! Also, congratulations to the blog for this, the 275th post!

----- 

This book is bad.

I just wanted to get that out there. Not only is it bad, it's boring, unoriginal, predictable, and stupid. To be totally accurate, it is precisely because of these latter deficiencies that it is bad. I originally put this collection on my graphic novel to-read list because I wanted to get the whole story on The Avengers. What I read only cemented my belief that everything we saw in the films leading up to that glorious cinematic spectacle was more than enough. I'm sure that whoever was writing this carp was just doing their job, but the least Marvel could do is get some actually good writers to put out actually good promotion material meant to represent and advertise their actually good movies.

Road to Marvel's the Avengers collects all of the cheap-as-Hades tie-in comic books that were put out to generate buzz for Phase 1 of the Marvel Cinematic Universe... as if they needed anymore. We're treated to a full on, word-for-word comic book rendition of Iron Man, and background and backstory on Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Dr. Abraham Erskine, and Johann Schmidt. We're also told exactly how Black Widow infiltrated Stark International in order to become Tony's new personal assistant.

If any or all of this sounds even remotely exciting and compelling, let me assure you, it's not.

The Iron Man stuff takes up roughly half of the book, and is basically a poorly rendered version of the film of the same name, plus some stuff showing Iron Man doing his thing in-between Iron Man and Iron Man 2. This latter part is particularly dull, depicting Tony fighting... people with guns in the Congo, I guess, and Tony using his Iron Man armor to impress the ladies. At the very least, it guest stars General Ross from The Incredible Hulk, and I just love that guy.

The problem with the Iron Man stuff is that it tries too hard to be the movie. The comic book rendition of the film (titled "I Am Iron Man!") is word-for-word, scene-for-scene, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was shot-for-shot too. "I Am Iron Man!" manages to capture the basic skeletal structure of the film, but has none of its substance or style. This, I think, is the problem with book-of-the-film tie-ins, or comic-book-of-the-film tie-ins, or any kind of tie-in which recycles the film for that matter: It often leaves the writer with no room for originality, essentially copying the script. As a result, this comic feels nothing like the movie, despite all of its effort to do so.

The other Iron Man stuff has a similar problem, combined with a hackneyed and stale plot. It's obviously trying to ape the pseudo-cleverness of Iron Man 2, and unlike "I Am Iron Man!", it actually succeeds in emulating the film. Considering considering that Iron Man 2 is widely considered to be the weakest film in the MCU, however, that's a patently terrible strategy, if only in hindsight. I can only imagine how fans who were gearing up for Iron Man 2 felt when they read this monstrosity. If I were in their shoes back then, however, I would have prayed to the most high God with all my heart that the movie was nothing like this comic. Paradoxically, the tone of this comic was spot on in regards to its reflection of the movie, yet somehow much, much worse. (For the record, I found Iron Man 2 to be an enjoyable flick, though admittedly not as good as its fellow MCU films. I hope to complete my Iron Man set of reviews and review it sometime.) At any rate, the only good thing about it was its exploration of the dynamic between Tony and his father, but while that was an oasis of good stuff in a wasteland of mediocrity and awfulness, it is far overshadowed by what we actually saw in the dadblamed movie.

The final bit of stuff related to Iron Man 2 promotion is a story with Black Widow. This story's tone shift early on is jarring, to say the least, going from crazy Mission Impossible/Die Hard/James Bond-esque stuff to a drama version of The Office. What I mean is, we literally see Black Widow jumping out of an exploding plane before going to apply at the Stark International corporate office. The whole time, she's using this awful, grating inner dialogue where she complains about "American inefficiency" (Clearly, the writer did not do his research when writing a defector from Soviet Russia) and the idiosyncrasies of office work. I imagine that under a different, actually competent writer, it would have been pretty darn funny to see Black Widow trying to navigate office politics without seriously injuring someone, but no, that's not what happens. What happens is a dry, humorless story which should have been very entertaining, maybe even interesting. But it is instead very boring, and only succeeds in persuading us that we really did not need to know the answer to the question it poses, that question being, "How did Black Widow infiltrate Stark International?" It's a perfect example of wasting a perfectly good plot.

As if things couldn't get any worse, we are then treated to a similar fill-in-the-blanks plot with the stuff for Captain America: The First Avenger. The story constantly shifts between a generic Cap-fighting-in-World-War-Two stuff and pre-Captain America Steve Rogers training with Bucky. Ordinarily, this would be fantastic stuff, showing Steve and Bucky growing up together. However, it's stifled by the stupid generic Cap-fighting-in-World-War-Two stuff and showing Johann Schmidt's story. (It's not that I have a problem with stuff showing Cap fighting in World War Two, but it's because it's so generic and careless in presentation that I found it to be intolerable.) The basic premise of this comic, in the same vein as televised tripe such as Smallville and perhaps even the upcoming Gotham is to show how our heroes and villains came to be the way they are. There's just one problem: Devoting a whole series, or even a miniseries, to answering that question gets really old really fast. I mean, how many times do you really want to see Steve getting pounded on in an alley before Bucky shows up to be a street fighting badbutt? (And remember, Bucky's supposed to be the sidekick.) Steve's story is basically what this series is, and while it's fairly compelling, it's not the stuff of great comics, because we already know what's going to happen. That's why we have origin stories, not origin series.

The stuff with the Red Skull and Dr. Erskine also had tons of potential, but whoever is writing this carp failed to capitalize on it. The Red Skull is shown in his days as plain old Johann Schmidt, who was apparently some random Hitler-groupie who got noticed by Heinrich Himmler and landed a position in the Waffen SS. The Red Skull's role in the plot is particularly interesting because he was so underdeveloped in the flipping movie. This comic could have been a chance to greatly redeem him as a character, delving into exactly why he wants to take over the world while parading about in an all black leather wardrobe. Unfortunately, despite one or two pretty great scenes with Johann Schmidt, we're mostly left in the dark (again) about these details. There's also a few scenes where Dr. Abraham Erskine is show trying and failing to escape to Switzerland with his family, and that really showed Dr. Erskine's selfless nature. He gets captured by Schmidt, but his manner of escape is blatantly ripped off from the Hong Kong scene in The Dark Knight of all things. And he gets put in his place in the hierarchy of morality by Peggy Carter of all people. Once again, plenty of potential, but poor execution.

Finally, there are a handful of stories focusing on people like Nick Fury and Agent Phil Coulson. These stories should have been awesome, but they failed spectacularly, thanks in part to ugly, ill-suited art, but mostly in part due to crudely put together story. None of the characters sound like their movie selves. Heck, they barely even look like their movie selves. What's particularly galling, however, is that these are the characters who, like Rhodey, Pepper, Bucky, and Dr. Erskine, would have benefited the most from tie-in comics. Instead, they all get this half-baked super-spy nonsense. A terrible shame, really.

In sum, I checked out Road to Marvel's the Avengers in an effort to enhance my appreciation of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I was disappointed by what I found, and am now reconsidering my plans to check out Fury's Big Week, another lead-up to The Avengers. What I found in this wholly ill-conceived trade paperback was bland characterizations, contorted dialogue, and a worse plot, which, combined with several details contradicted by the films, make for an altogether dull, uninspired story. Please don't add this to your personal library. It's bad enough that it made it into my local public one.

RATING: 5/10

Image courtesy of wired.com

The Big Seven - Introduction & Part 1: Lee Strobel

Introduction

This is the first in a biweekly series on seven of the biggest names in modern Christian thought: Lee Strobel, Matt Slick, S. Michael Houdman, Ray Comfort, William Lane Craig, Ken Ham, and Josh McDowell. These are people who are not only strong voices in the Evangelical Christian movement and Christian apologetics, but who also have had a strong influence on me. Some of them you may have heard of, others may be a little more obscure than others. However, I believe that each of them has contributed greatly to helping spread the gospel  and discerning truths from falsehoods. The collective wisdom of these seven great men has been insurmountable in shaping my core beliefs, and I now humbly embark on this series for the purpose of their commemoration.

----------

I must confess, of all the people who will be covered in this series, Lee Strobel is the first and foremost among them all (thus far) in my ever-continuing study of God's word. He is also the only one I have ever met face-to-face. I remember him coming to our church a few years ago, and I actually got to meet him and shake his hand. My words turned to nothing as I completely geeked out. I finally managed to string together a coherent enough sentence in order to ask him to sign my copy of The Case for Christ. He happily did so. He seemed like a nice guy.

Before he became a Christian, however, Lee Strobel was, by his own admission, a self-absorbed drunkard who lived only for his own self-gratification. His background as an investigative journalist brought him in front of a lot of different people, some good, some bad. But he didn't think much of God or Christianity, believing that he knew all the answers. That is, until his wife became a Christian. Mr. Strobel was at first bemused at his wife's conversion, but later began to notice how she changed her behavior, and found her change in behavior "winsome." So, when his wife invited him to church for, he went with her, notepad in hand, totally prepared to utterly dissect and roast the sermon.

He was in for a surprise.

The long and short of it is that Mr. Strobel got thinking about the big questions about Christianity. How could the Bible be thought to be true? Wasn't it full of contradictions? Who was Jesus? Did he really claim to be God? Was he out of his mind? Did evolution explain away the need for any kind of religion anyway? These answers were suddenly brought to the forefront of Mr. Strobel's mind, and he used his skills as an investigative journalist to embark on a quest to use  to find the answers. He found his answers, and his personal quest to find those answers, culminating in his conversion to Christianity, are recorded in The Case for Christ, published in 1998. That fine tome was followed up by several other similarly named and structured books, such as The Case for Faith, The Case for a Creator, and The Case for the Real Jesus. He has also published several other books related to apologetics, such as What Jesus Would Say, God's Outrageous Claims, and a foray into crime fiction, The Ambition. I look forward to reading the first and the last of these latter three.

Lee Strobel is the first Christian author whose apologetics books I ever read. I fondly remember my fifth grade Sunday School teacher, Mr. Don Joss, giving me a copy of The Case for Christ for Kids, a little, eighty-six page book which I cherish today as a prized possession. (On a side note, I can't seem to find my autographed copy of The Case for Christ in my house. It's probably tucked away on a shelf somewhere, but I wish I could find it so I could show it off to my friends.) That engrossing little book got me interested in seriously studying my faith, so much so that it eventually lead me to read the adult versions of Mr. Strobel's books. Those, in turn, eventually led me to combine my love of Mr. Strobel's work with my love of the works of C.S. Lewis, leading me to read The Screwtape Letters. The rest is history, but it can all be traced back to Mr. Joss and that little green-and-white, eighty-six page book. To go on a brief tangent, I am as much indebted to Mr. Joss (and to my parents) as I am to Mr. Strobel in regards to becoming serious about my faith.

Of the books that Mr. Strobel has written that I have thus far read, my favorite of them is probably The Case for Faith. I will always have a special place in my heart for The Case for Christ, as it was the first one I read, and it appeals to my personal preference for facts, information, and logical investigation. The Case for Faith, however, resonates with me because it seeks out to answer hard-hitting philosophical questions in an in-depth manner, such as why a loving God could send people to Hell, or why there can't be more than one way to heaven. Granted, the answers presented within aren't quite as good as answers presented in certain other books, but it's still a darn good read, and I like it. In addition, Mr. Strobel's writing style is very engaging, and that aspect of his work makes me all the more eager to read The Ambition. I think it would be fun to see his take on a crime story.

Lee Strobel has had a profound influence on my knowledge of both the Bible and my faith, not to mention my personal philosophy. He was willing to seek out and ask hard hitting questions from the best representatives available, including thrice consulting William Lane Craig, a preeminent figure in modern apologetics who will be discussed later in this series. His example is one that should be followed by seekers everywhere. It's because of Lee Strobel and people like him, such as J. Warner Wallace, that I became such an avid student of the holy scriptures. The only thing I disagree with Mr. Strobel on is related to a point made by William Lane Craig concerning the Big Bang. (More on that in our installment on Ken Ham.) But on the whole, I humbly give his work the praise that it so richly deserves. I also would direct interested readers to check out the trio of documentaries based on his three main works, The Case for Christ, The Case for Faith, and The Case for a Creator.

Image courtesy of thechristianclinic.org

Review: Batman and Psychology: A Dark and Stormy Knight

As someone with a vested interest in the plight of the mentally ill, I am routinely disgusted with the portrayal of supposedly "insane" persons in various media, most notably the Batman comics. Batman's rogues gallery, while the best in comics, is almost entirely composed of people who are routinely labeled as "insane." The problem here is that "insane" is a legal term, not a medical one. The Joker may be psychopathic, in that he has no empathy for his fellow human beings, but he is not psychotic, in that he can indeed comprehend the criminality of his actions. He therefore belongs in Blackgate Penitentiary, not Arkham Aslylum. As a side note, "asylum" is a highly dated and outmoded term which should be replaced by something else. How about "Elizabeth Arkham Memorial Psychiatric Hospital"?

But I'm getting a bit off track...

Batman and Psychology: A Dark and Stormy Knight by Travis Langley is a book on various issues relating to psychology in the world of Batman. It touches on both the above issue and many more, such has the Robins, Batman's father figures, the villains, the various lovely ladies in Batman's life, and what exactly makes Batman tick. It examines not only the primary comic version of Batman, but also the versions presented the various films and television shows. With a forward by Michael Uslan, the executive producer of most of the Batman films, and an introduction by acclaimed Bat-editor Denny O'Neil, this book has a lot of big names associated with it. It helps that the author is a psychology professor and a huge Batman fan. Therefore, it seems only natural that this would be a terrific book.

Happily, it is.

Batman and Psychology belongs to that class of books which examine subjects that were never designed to be studied particularly in-depth. There's the Wiley's Blackwell Philosophy and Pop Culture series which produced, among many others, Batman and Philosophy: The Dark Knight of the Soul, along with James Daily and Ryan Davidson's The Law of Superheroes. In this case, Batman and Psychology studies the psyche of a 75 year old comic book character. And golly, for a huge geek like me, it is a boatload of fun.

Reading about how the birth order theory might explain the varying temperaments of the Robins, or why exactly Gotham City is filled with all these weird costumed criminals is absolutely fascinating to me. Reading books like this combines my love for scholarly subjects with my love for comic books and superheroes, blending them all into a smoothie of coolness. I think it also appeals to me because the lighthearted but scholarly nature of the book grants a sort of legitimacy to comic books, a legitimacy which is not widely shared by certain others.

What makes the book really shine, aside from its great content, is the way that content is presented. Langley's writing style is very natural and relaxed, and not stiff or stuffy. This allows for the various complex ideas to be expressed clearly and understandably. It's not overly technical or involved, but expertly refined and finely expounded. This may be due to Langley's background as a professor, which would require him to be able to explain things effectively, but all I know is that he writes very well.

Batman and Psychology: A Dark and Stormy Knight is a must read for both Batman-fans and Batman-writers. It gave me a new perspective on Batman and a renewed understanding of the character. Incoming Bat-scribes would do well to check out this book and learn what they can from it. I am also glad that the book devoted a whole chapter to discussing Arkham Asylum and its obvious faults, as well as addressing the false premise that most if not all of Batman's villains are mentally ill. My only complaint with this book is that it did not cover the case of Jean-Paul Valley, the first Azrael, a mentally ill hero in the Bat-family. That, I believe, would have made for an interesting entry. Perhaps a later edition will include an appendix on him, and possibly one on Michael Lane, the second Azrael.

RATING: 10/10

Image courtesy of goodreads.com

The Space Trilogy: Outstanding in Obscurity

"Everybody and their dog knows about Narnia and has probably read it. They also probably know about the likes of Mere Christianity or The Screwtape Letters. But if you ask them whether they realized that C. S. Lewis wrote science fiction, they'll look at you like you're from another planet."

This quote from TVTropes.org's page on C.S. Lewis' Space Trilogy is a fitting description of one of that great author's more obscure works. The Space Trilogy is one of those book series that you would hardly believe existed, and if you did, you might scoff at. As is par for the course in Lewis' writings, it is a Christian allegory, blending the genres of science fiction and fantasy, resulting in a throwback to the genre of Planetary Romance. (I didn't even know that such a genre existed until after I began researching for this article). The result? A pretty fine set of literature.

The Space Trilogy, also known as The Cosmic Trilogy, consists of three books written between 1938 and 1945, detailing the misadventures of Dr. Elwin Ransom. A Cambridge philologist, Ransom begins the series in Out of the Silent Planet while on a walking tour of northern England, when he becomes entangled in a interstellar voyage after being kidnapped by sinister scientists Dick Devine and Professor Weston. The long and short of it is that he winds up on Mars, where he meets the friendly inhabitants and goes on an adventure. The second book, Perelandra, describes Ransom's voyage to Venus (the titular location, but in the constructed language of Old Solar), where he must ward off a demonically possessed Weston from corrupting this planet's version of Eve. The third and final book, That Hideous Strength, in addition to being longer than the previous two books, is also of an entirely different genre. Subtitled "A Modern Fairy-Tale for Grown-Ups", this third book focuses on Mark Studdock and his wife Jane as they experience both sides of a battle between the literally diabolical N.I.C.E. and Ransom's seemingly passive partisans, respectively. Dick Devine returns in this book in a less prominent but still villainous role, now styled Lord Feverstone. Ransom's role is also less magnified, though he is the de facto leader of the good guys in this book.

Like I said, The Space Trilogy begins as a throwback to old school Planetary Romance and ends as a modernized fantasy story. Though my experience with science fiction with a Christian philosophy has been limited and sordid, C.S. Lewis, through his unique genre-blending and trope-defying ways, manages to pen a genuinely good series of books. The books originated when he was chatting with his good friend (and merciless critic} J.R.R. Tolkien. Noting the sharp decline of science fiction literature in their day, they made a sort of bet: Tolkien would write a time travel story, and Lewis would write a space travel story, which eventually became The Space Trilogy. Tolkien, the cad, never held up on his end of the bargain, apart from some half-finished scrap in The Lost Road and Other Writings or some such place.

To get to the point, what makes The Space Trilogy unique is demonstrated in two parts. First, it is decidedly more adult. For one thing, here's harsher swearing than you'll ever find in The Chronicles of Narnia, and the themes and theological allegories are much more overlapping and direct, though not more eloquently expressed, than Narnia ever was. Second, it is a very intelligent science fiction series, a description which I'm sure hasn't been applied to a story of that genre since Isaac Asimov was around. Just look at half-baked tripe like Across the Universe and you'll see what I mean. Then again, perhaps that's a little unfair, as I haven't read Ender's Game yet. However, I have read a lot of Star Wars books, and I know that nearly all of them were barely passable, and few were particularly memorable, that is, if they even count as sci-fi at all. The Space Trilogy, on the other hand, plays with the genre in Lewis' unique style, discussing standard sci-fi tropes such as Planet of Hats and Single Biome Planet. It's stuff like that that makes me admire this series to no end.

If for no other reason, C.S. Lewis writing a science fiction series is appealing because it gives us that esteemed author's direct insight into various philosophies typically and popularly aligned with science today, such as transcendentalism, humanism, and materialism. To say the least, Lewis had a very dim view of all of these ideologies, and deconstructed them thoroughly in The Space Trilogy, particularly in the first and third books. In Out of the Silent Planet, my personal favorite of the three, Lewis takes the character of Weston, a staunch humanist who wants to wipe out the native Hrossa and their neighbors to make room for humanity, and shows us a fundamentally flawed worldview. Lewis does this partially in the form of a hilarious sequence in which Ransom attempts to translate a speech given by Weston to the ruler of Malacandra (that is, Mars) into Old Solar. The result, due to being lost in translation, is so funny that I invite the reader to go over to Out of the Silent Planet's Wikipedia page and see its entry on Weston's speech.

Perelandra is something of the odd man out in The Space Trilogy. In between the whimsical, leisurely adventure story of Out of the Silent Planet and the hard-hitting, philosophical commentary of That Hideous Strength, we have a story which is largely a theological treatise. This treatise is in turn sandwiched in between the old Planetary Romance stuff and your not-so-standard epic battle between good and evil. In truth, I personally did not enjoy reading Perelandra as much as I did Out of the Silent Planet or even That Hideous Strength, but interestingly enough, it was Lewis' favorite thing to have written. (His least favorite was The Screwtape Letters, but that's another post.) A lot of it is complicated theological musing, and while that's all well in good in some cases, here the allegory was a bit too on the nose. This seems odd, as C.S. Lewis is the master of allegory, but even the best authors slip sometimes. Perelandra may be a bit more complicated than the others, but it is no less beautiful.

If Lewis attacked humanistic materialism in Out of the Silent Planet, he declared war on transcendentalism and its ilk in That Hideous Strength. The primary antagonists of this book, the National Institute for Coordinated Experiments (the N.I.C.E.), is actually a front for demonic activity. Its members outside of the inner circle which Mark Studdock so desperately yearns for, however, are fringe scientists who range from dupes like Dr. Filostrato to Horace Jules, a dimwitted populist who in reality knows little about science. Interestingly, Wikipedia describes him as a pastiche of H.G. Wells, who apparently advocated for the active persecution of all religions in his book The Shape of Things to Come. Lewis' disdain for the elevation of science, pseudo or otherwise, in conjunction with the aforementioned philosophies, above faith is vividly and expertly demonstrated. Above all, however, these books possess wit as well as wisdom, the distinguishing hallmark of all of Lewis' works.
 
I was Facebook chatting with my dear friend Caleb yesterday, and we were discussing a petition on Change.org to get the Lewis estate to get on the road to making a film series about The Space Trilogy.  While I doubt that this petition will get much of anything done (I signed it anyway), it's still a cool idea. If The Space Trilogy were made as film series, we'd need producers and writers who loved the books as much as fans like Caleb and I do, plus a director who would be willing to honor the source material. As the old cliche goes (courtesy of the New  York Film Academy website), you can make a bad movie with a good screenplay, but you can't make a good movie with a bad screenplay. Who would direct? I honestly don't know. I'm not as big of a movie buff as Caleb, and even he doesn't know for sure. He suggested J.J. Abrams, but that's kind of a long shot. I do know, however, who I wouldn't want directing a Space Trilogy movie series. My nightmare director is M. Night Shyamalan. With Tim Burton as producer. I hope I don't give anybody bad dreams. I could, however, settle for a radio drama adaptation by Focus on the Family. They did outstandingly with Narnia and Screwtape. In the meantime, however, The Space Trilogy truly remains outstanding in obscurity.

Who do you readers think would make a good director for The Space Trilogy film series? Does that Change.org petition have a snowball's chance in Hades? If you've read The Space Trilogy, which of the books is your favorite? Leave a comment and let me know!

Image courtesy of narniafans.com

Review: Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian

Before we begin, I just want to get this out of the way: I have read the book and still don't have a single clue about who this "last guardian" is. Is it Bruin Fadda? Artemis Fowl himself maybe? Heck, even Butler or Holly could have been it. I just don't know.

The final installment of the acclaimed Artemis Fowl series, Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian tells of our heroes' final battle against Opal Koboi, swiftly resolves the plot of the previous book, and that's about it. It's also nothing like what Colfer said it would be like. According to one interview, Colfer said that this book would be about Artemis having to choose between doing the right thing or obtaining a suitcase with a million dollars in it, and in the end, he'd choose to do the right thing. Artemis does do the right thing, but he's been doing the right thing since The Lost Colony, so what's new, Mr. Colfer? And where's the suitcase?

What's the actual plot of this novel? Basically, way back in the day, this elven warlock named Bruin Fadda used black magic to put in place a magical curse meant to destroy all humans should it be unlocked by some powerful fairy. It's a bit involved, going back to when fairies and humans were at war on the Earth's surface. in the present, Opal Koboi tricks the heroes into releasing her, and now she's on the loose with a bunch of zombie-fairy-ghost-pirates in tow, trying to unlock Fadda's curse to wipe out all of humanity so that she'll become queen of the fairies. Artemis, Holly, and Butler, and later Mulch, have to stop her, as the ghost-fairies have also possessed Artemis' brothers and Butler's sister.

Believe it or not, it's not nearly as stupid as it sounds. It is Artemis Fowl, after all.

As much as I like to bash Eoin Colfer for losing his edge in the more recent Artemis Fowl books, I've got to say that his style has really matured over the years. A brief perusal of the first book, Artemis Fowl, published in 2001, really demonstrated that. In hindsight, Artemis Fowl reads like a cross between RoboCop, National Geographic, and a Microsoft commercial. Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian flows smoother, possesses all of the great emotion that makes Colfer's books so great, and tells a great story. It has its flaws, but it's still really, really good.

It's actually rather fitting that Colfer's style has matured as the character of Artemis has matured. Gone is the self-absorbed, greedy, lying thief. What we have here is a fine young man who, while imperfect, is selfless, considerate, charitable, loving, even heroic. He strives tirelessly to do good, and his friends with him. Holly and Butler haven't changed quite as much since 2001, but in the areas they have changed, it's pretty darn significant. Holly is a decidedly more level-headed, mature young... elf. Butler, while still steadfastly loyal to Artemis, has settled into his role as the voice of reason in their little band. I wish they had done more with Butler's brief expression of pent-up frustration. If Colfer would only capitalize on those rare moments of brilliance, we might have a genuinely great book, but more on that later.

And then there's Mulch.

Mulch Diggums, a dwarf thief first introduced in Artemis Fowl as a boxed crook, went, like Artemis, from self-centered criminal to irrepressible private investigator. And now... he's a criminal again. To be truthful, Mulch hasn't been wearing the private eye hat since The Lost Colony, but we saw him in The Time Paradox, which mostly took place eight years in the past, and we saw him again in The Atlantis Complex as cowboy-like swashbuckler who liked to hang around with criminals and didn't even mention his private eye business. And now, he's a criminal again. Why? Because, apparently, he likes being a criminal better.

This is highly out of character for Mulch. Back in The Lost Colony, there was a lot of text devoted to explaining why Mulch had decided to go straight, namely because someone who Mulch respected had been murdered by the main villain in the previous book. That Mulch would forget so easily why he had decided to embrace lawfulness just doesn't ring true to me. That he would turn his back on that ideal and go back to his old ways, an idea that he considered disrespectful to the memory of Mr. Dead Guy (you Fowl fans know who I'm talking about), makes no sense at all. And yet, here he is, setting up to rob our hero's house. What really galls me about this plot point is that it not only further illustrates how lazy and sloppy Colfer's writing has gotten, but that he did it with one of his most beloved and memorable characters. It's pathetic, sad, and totally unnecessary. At least Mulch ends the book as a good guy, but what happens after that? We'll talk about that in a minute.

Getting back to what Colfer got right, if there's one thing that he can still do, it's make everything seem absolutely hopeless for our heroes. He really knows how to raise the stakes, get the reader's attention, and make you feel for the characters. All other things aside, you will read this book and not want to put it down. I remember reading this book, desperately thinking, "There's still a few pages left... they're going to survive... I already had it spoiled for me so I know how it ends..." That's exactly the sort of feeling that any good book should inspire in the reader, and at that, Colfer remains a master.

But nevertheless, this book has its flaws, and there are many. Aside from my issues with the characterization of Mulch, Colfer's style, while having matured and developed heavily over the years, still reeks of one principal fault that was present in the last book: He still writes like he's trying to ape Douglas Adams. For the uninitiated, Colfer was assigned to write the sixth book for Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, titled And Another Thing. Ever since then, and my dear friend Nate agrees with me, Colfer's writing has never been the same. Every other line is a joke is some kind, and absurdism is rampant. Artemis Fowl was never supposed to be asbsurdist. It's supposed to be an urban fantasy crime story, for heaven's sake! Humor is a big part of it, but it was never the overlying premise. Whatever happened to "Die Hard with fairies"?

The other major problem with this book is that it doesn't have a particularly satisfying conclusion. It felt like Colfer was rushing it because he had a word or page limit. Colfer ends the book without resolving the major plot points or addressing significant storyline issues. How are Artemis' parents going to react to all of this? What will be the result of the romantic tension between Artemis and Holly? What was their "long talk" like? Butler is finished as a bodyguard, so what will he be doing now? Is Juliet going to get more character development? Whatever happened to Doodah Day? Will Colfer finally realize that the fans were tired of Opal Koboi after The Opal Deception? Will Jason Statham be cast as Butler in the Artemis Fowl movie?

I kid, I kid, but still, I have issues with this book. I am willing to forgive them all, however, for the sake of one little nugget that Colfer snuck in. In this book, Colfer writes that Commander Trouble Kelp got together with Lily Frond. To others, this is a seemingly innocuous throwaway joke. To me, it is a source of supreme hilarity which made laugh so, so hard when I read the line. Why? Because that is exactly what happened in a certain well written yet admittedly inappropriate Artemis Fowl fanfic which will not be named here. If someone told me that Colfer actually stumbled upon this fanfic and said, "Hey! That's not a bad idea!" and went with it, I wouldn't be surprised in the least. That element alone would be enough for me to approve of this book.

In the end, Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian is a deeply flawed book. It is, however, better than The Atlantis Complex. It isn't half as good as the first four books, or one third as good as The Opal Deception. But it is the last book, and it deserves recognition for that, if nothing else. Is it a great book? No. Is it a good book? Yes. Is it a good Artemis Fowl book? I'd say yes. For all it's faults, Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian still manages to pull off the signature Fowl caper, even without the exotic locations, a cool, interesting new villain, or resolved plot points. It may not be the best, but it's definitely not the worst either. Still better than the graphic novels. But I still don't know who this "last guardian" is.

RATING: 7.5/10

Image courtesy of goodreads.com

Review: Destination Tokyo

Back in the day, and I'm talking way back in the day, during the Second World War, Hollywood was
pumping out patriotic movies by the dozen. They weren't all blockbusters or Oscar-bait, to be sure, especially when the movie market was saturated with them. As one studio executive said, "I don't want it good, I want it Tuesday!" I have yet to see a particularly bad motion picture from that era of film history, but I'm sure that even some of the lesser ones were a bit more above par than some of the stuff we have today. A lot of stuff then was better than the stuff of today.

Destination Tokyo is, happily enough, one such film.

I watched this film way back in January, so that's just a brief testament to my review backlog on my side of the internet. Anyway, Destination Tokyo chronicles the journey of a lone submarine across the Pacific into Japanese waters on a vital scouting mission. It stars the famed Cary Grant in the lead role as Captain Cassidy, a father to his men and a altogether agreeable sounding fellow. The rest of the submarine crew include the macho guy Wolf (John Garfield), the naive newcomer Tommy (Robert Hutton), who's a regular Billy Budd, plus affable Cookie Wainwright (Alan Hale), the, uh, cook, and Pills (William Prince), an atheist pharmacist's mate, the closest thing the crew has to a doctor. Together, this crew of American sailors is determined to get to Tokyo and complete their mission, braving all the dangers along the way.

First of all, I've gotta say that for an old movie, this flick is intense. Submarine movies usually are, but man, Destination Tokyo hits the nail right on the head. Everything about this film is done with a subtle intensity, from the performances to the character arcs to the effects. The acting is very well done, with Grant and Hutton doing their jobs particularly well. Hutton provides a fine performance as the naive, inexperienced newcomer Tommy, who, like I said, is a regular Billy Budd. Hutton plays the roll with a sincerity and authenticity that rivals that of even Cary Grant, who masterfully portrays the role of the tough but good captain. He's something of a nicer version of Gregory Peck's Frank Savage from Twelve O'Clock High, except that his crew actually likes him the whole way through. It's a well oiled machine we see here, and while that doesn't provide for much internal conflict, it does provide us with an entertaining and fun team dynamic.

Another thing which makes this movie better than most others is the presence of actual character arcs. That is to say, over the course of this movie, people change. Tommy, the most relatable character in the cast, becomes more experienced. Pills abandons his atheism. Wolf becomes less of a macho man and more of a real man. Even Cookie and Cassidy both develop, if not as overtly and obviously as the others. In short, the whole cast develops somehow by weathering the difficult, dangerous situations they are thrust into. Speaking of the whole cast, there is a large cast, including a bunch of guys who I didn't mention. The thing here, however, is that the characters all manage to be very individualized and memorable, so that you can pick one out from the other. In a monochromatic film, this is a pretty big accomplishment. The characters are all well fleshed out, and that's good, because there are a lot of heavy themes in this picture, and in order to pull of heavy themes well, you need to have well developed characters.

What are these heavy themes, you ask? First and foremost there's camaraderie among fire forged friends. When you have hundred or so guys cooped up on a confined space on a dangerous enterprise for a long time, you're bound to create some lasting friendships. Another big theme that Destination Tokyo deals with is fear in the face of danger. During a depth charge attack, everybody on the sub is scared, and Cassidy says as much. They're scared, but that shouldn't stop them from doing their job. And it doesn't. One of the biggest and most apparent themes in this movie, however, is why the U.S. needs to defeat Japan. There are several instances in which the crewmen comment on and discuss the mindset and society of the "Japs." It sounds pretty blatant and even racist to our modern ears, but back in the day, a portrayal like this was pretty fair for its time. The enemy Japanese aren't demonized or condemned; rather, they're humanized and pitied. As Captain Cassidy says, "There's lots of Mikes dying right now. And a lot more Mikes will die. Until we wipe out a system that puts daggers in the hands of five-year-old children." In other words, a primary lesson that people should learn from this movie is that bad guys have gotta go, or people on both sides are going to suffer.

With all this talk of heavy themes and stuff, the reader might think that this film is all doom and gloom. Far from it! It's actually pretty humorous at many points. At the same time, however, it is very suspenseful, such as when Pills has to perform an appendix operation in the sub on the sea floor of Tokyo Bay. It's all done with some pretty clever cinematography which I'm sure my film making friend Caleb would appreciate. In short, the movie will make you laugh, it will make you sit on the edge of your seat, and it might even make you cry. It's a beautiful film, and it's an engaging, entertaining piece of cinema. It's not explicitly grim and gritty like, say, Das Boot, but it's still pretty darn good. For all of you history buffs out there, you'll love it. If you like submarines and ships and what not, you'll adore it. My dad sure did.

RATING: 9/10

Image courtesy of thegloriousninth.blogspot.com

Review: Mr. Holland's Opus

If there's one movie genre that I'm an absolute sucker for, it's late twentieth century period dramas. Second Hand Lions. Forrest Gump. The Help. October Sky. Apollo 13. I think it's because they all take a interesting concept and put it in a visually engaging historical setting. The point is, I love all of these films, and now I've added another one to the list: Mr. Holland's Opus. It stars Academy Award winner Richard Dreyfuss in the title role.

Glenn Holland is a struggling composer and musician who desperately wants to compose full time. He and his wife, Iris (Glenne Headly) find themselves living in an Oregon town where Holland gets a job as a High School music teacher. At first, Holland views the position as a short term gig, a mere stepping stone on his way to becoming a famous composer. But things happen, as they always do, and he stays on. The years go by, and Holland makes lifelong friendships, touches and influences the lives of many of his young students, and welcomes a son into his family, all the while going through the trials and tribulations that inevitably accompany life. At the same time, we get to see the major events of the 60s, 70s, and 80s through his eyes.

Mr. Holland's Opus is one of those movies that is very effective at what it tries to communicate. In this case, it succeeds in communicating raw, unadulterated emotion. It's not schmaltzy or sappy, and it's by no means a feel-good movie, but it totally sells the feeling and mood its going for. From the opening to the conclusion, and everywhere in between, this movie will put a smile on your face, and it will make your eyes water when it wants to. It all hinges on the characters, really. We see Holland's trials, we see his friendships develop, we see his mundane exploits. These range from the hilarious to the sad to the heartwarming. Mr. Holland's Opus manages to be all of these things simultaneously while not feeling like a tonal train wreck, just like all great dramas.

It helps that Richard Dreyfuss totally sells it as Glenn Holland. And really, he overshadows all of the other actors in this picture. First of all, we're given a rich, complex character like Holland. He starts out as a slightly jerkish person, but evolves and matures into a caring, almost fatherly figure to his students, and eventually to his biological son, Cole, with whom he initially has a strained relationship due to a very important reason. Then we get an A-list character actor like Dreyfuss, who proceeds to act the heck out of the role, to the point where he gets nominated for yet another Academy Award. I'm telling you, the sheer subtlety, the sheer talent, the sheer emotion he puts into it far outshines any and all of the other undoubtedly talented actors in this film.

In a movie about music throughout the late twentieth century, there is, of course, good music. We've got stuff from John Lennon, Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Beethoven, and many others. Additionally, it is marked by other virtues, such as being pretty darn funny, and while it does focus primarily on Holland, all of the other characters have a clear-cut motivation. Principal Helen Jacobs (Olympia Dukakis) wants to give her students a good education, while later Principal Gene Wolters (William H. Macy) wants to run an efficient school. Hard to blame him for coming off as a bad guy, in view of how messed up schools are these days, but even then he's played well enough that we can sympathize with him, thought not as much as we can sympathize with Holland. Iris wants to help her husband and raise a family, and Bill Meister (Jay Thomas) the gym teacher (and later, Holland's best friend) wants to do for the jocks what Holland is doing for the music students. Even Cole (played by various actors, including Joseph Anderson and Anthony Natale) wants to be understood and accepted by his father, a good motivation as any.

Mr. Holland's Opus deserved an Oscar, pure and simple. I guess it was enough that it was nominated for one, but still, it totally deserved it. Dreyfuss lost out to flipping Nicolas Cage, for goodness sake. But nevertheless, I am glad to have watched this film, and I happily grant it the highest esteem I can afford to it. The only reservations I have are with a smattering of bad language, so parents, please be discerning. In the meantime, we have a wonderful, moving film with great acting and awesome emotion, and a beautiful, rhythmic premise. I think Mr. Holland would appreciate that.

RATING: 10/10

Fun fact: Terrence Howard, who would later play Rhodey in Iron Man, played a student of Holland's named Louis Russ! Man, he looked young. I wonder what Don Cheadle was doing in 1995...

Image courtesy of wikipedia.org

Spider-Man: The Greatest Superhero in Comics

Web-slinger. Spidey. Web-head. "Masked menace." Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.

We all know the story. Or at least, we all should know. It was plastered on the big screen on no less than two occasions, plus all the comics and TV shows. Peter Parker was an Ordinary High School Student. But when he went to that science lab and got bitten by a radioactive spider, he gained the proportionate strength, speed, and agility of a spider, plus a sort of sixth-sense that allows him to detect danger (dubbed "spider sense"). At first, he did what any real teenager would do: He used his powers to make money. But when his Uncle Ben was murdered by some random jerkhole whom Peter could have stopped earlier, Peter decided to take his Uncle Ben's admonition that "With great power there must also come great responsibility," and use his powers to help people. Thus, Spider-Man was born!

My bold declaration in the title of this post may have many of you wondering. Surely the lowly Spider-Man is not the world's greatest superhero? Does not that title belong to Superman? What about Captain America, or even Batman? Let me assure you that I stand firm in my conviction. Superman may be the world's most well known ("iconic") superhero, and Batman and his associates may be my personal favorites, but Spider-Man is still the best. Why? If you want a really good reason, go to Comics Alliance and find Chris Sims' article on the subject. My take, however, is a bit different. The thing about Spider-Man, about Peter Parker, is the whole "With great power comes great responsibility" thing. It may sound clichéd, but it is in fact pretty original. Spider-Man was the first real superhero that Stan Lee and co. actually wrote. The Fantastic Four were more like a team of adventurers, and the Hulk was just a rampaging monster, but Spider-Man was genuine superhero, when the superhero comic was still relatively young. I could go on about how this reflected Marvel and DC's differing modus operandi, but I'll leave that to Mr. Sims. The point here is that Spider-Man was specifically setting out to help people. Not to ruthlessly target crime like Batman, or to routinely save the world and circumvent disaster like Superman, though he has done that. He doesn't even do it to fight supervillains, though he does that a lot. Spider-Man's core purpose is to use his powers responsibly, and to him, that means helping people and doing the right thing, no matter what.

Of course, this trait alone is not enough to make Spider-Man the greatest superhero in comics. At least, not without elaboration. When Spider-Man was created, he was, as mentioned, an ordinary high school student. A teenager. Back in the day (that is, 1962), it was a pretty novel idea to have a teenage superhero headlining his own book. Before that, teenagers and other younger characters were seen as only worthy of being sidekicks. (Stan Lee, for the record, hated sidekicks.) When Spider-Man became unexpectedly and outrageously popular after first appearing in Amazing Fantasy #15, pop culture became awash in teenaged heroes, so much so that the character has become even more clichéd than "With great power comes great responsibility." (On a side note, it was also a pretty novel idea to have the story being set specifically in New York City, as opposed to some generic, made up metropolitan area.) The point is that Spider-Man does what he does, the right thing, no matter what, in the context of having to deal with all the normal problems that teenagers have. And by normal problems, I mean the feeling that everyone reading this got as a teen that the world's out to get them. The genius here, however, is that for Peter Parker, he has actual life-threatening situations to counterbalance perceived life-threatening situations. He's got midterms, girl trouble, an ailing aunt, adults who hate him for some reason, money problems, the whole nine yards, plus criminals, killers, supervillains who have a personal fixation on killing him, the media, and the general public, who all hate him.

The thing is, though, the things going on in his personal life are generally a lot more stressful and angst inducing for Peter than Kraven the Hunter trying to drive a spear through his torso. Just like a real teenager would. A real teenager, if granted the power of Spider-Man, would get cocky and have fun, like Spider-Man does. Chris Sims notes that Peter Parker's activities as Spider-Man is a way for him to "cut loose" and relax. That's why he cracks jokes, makes fun of his enemies, and relishes in hand-to-hand combat with unabashed glee. This is made abundantly clear in Ultimate Spider-Man when Peter decides to quit being Peter Parker, having come to the conclusion that everything's fine when he's Spider-Man, and that it's his personal life that's giving him all the trouble. Of course, this leads to an imbalance in his life as Spider-Man, nearly leading to disastrous consequences from neglecting his personal life. All of this makes it even more important to remember that whenever Spider-Man is despairing over a battle with his villains, stuff just got real. Because normally, an episode of Spider-Man's crime fighting adventures is another exciting interlude in the personal drama of Peter Parker's hapless mundane life. He doesn't have Batman or Iron Man's lax, luxurious secret identity, or the sheer, raw power and charisma of Superman. Peter doesn't even have a team of super-powered buddies to help him out every now and then (except when he does, such as when he's serving with the Avengers). And yet... he does the right thing. Because of all of this, Spider-Man is the first superhero to ever achieve something that all previous superheroes had not: He was able to make the reader relate to him.

Most importantly of all, however, is that Peter Parker does not stay an angsty teenager. He grows up. He matures. He lives life. He falls in love. He gets married. (See One More Day) He doesn't grow older than, say, 30, this being comic books, but he does go from boy to man. Peter Parker goes from insecure, petulant child to noble, strong, heroic young man. And he is a man, because, say it with me, "With great power, there must also come great responsibility." Similarly, Winston Churchill said, "A man does what he must - in spite of personal consequences, in spite of obstacles and dangers and pressures - and that is the basis of all human morality." In light of this, if there ever was a man, it is Spider-Man.

Spider-Man's greatness is also helped by the fact that he has, as Mr. Sims has observed, the best supporting cast in comics. Aunt May, Mary Jane Watson, J. Jonah Jameson, Harry Osborn, Gwen Stacy, Captain George Stacy, Flash Thompson, Robbie Robertson, and all the rest of them. And while not having the best rogues gallery around (that honor goes to Batman), he does have a quite memorable set of villains, including the Green Goblin, Doctor Octupus, Venom, Sandman, and the Vulture. I'd go on, but it's a bit beyond the scope of this post.

As hard to believe as it may seem, I've actually been into Spider-Man a lot longer than I've been into Batman. I remember borrowing the 2002 Sam Raimi Spider-Man movie from my Aunt when I was a kid, though my parents wouldn't let me watch it until a couple of years later. I still have fond memories of that movie, the original Raimi film holding a special place in my heart, kind of like Jean-Paul Valley. I remember pouring over Spider-Man: The Ultimate Guide, which, I'm sad to say, is the only exposure to the original comics that I've really had. (The originals are on my list, don't worry!) This in turn led me to read Ultimate Spider-Man, which I read faithfully until Prelude to Death of Spider-Man. I intend to return to it later, but I was thrown for a loop by certain plotting decisions that the esteemed Brian Michael Bendis made. On the other hand, it's worth noting that TVTropes refers to Ultimate Spider-Man #1 as the beginning of the Modern Age of Comics. I just find it difficult to believe that 10+ years worth of comics happened in a little over 1 year. They didn't even show the seasons changing! But I'm getting off track...

I've only read a little bit of the main continuity Spider-Man (such as the woefully messy Spider-Island crossover.), and I don't think much of the new stuff. I've been wanting to check out Scarlet Spider and the original stories, plus The Superior Spider-Man, which I heard was good, but I haven't had much interest in reading post-One More Day stuff. Then again, Chris Sims has gone on record saying that Brand New Day initiated a long overdue shake up in Spider-Man's status quo, but we'll get back to that later.

Spider-Man has appeared in many other media besides the many comic book series, with two movie series, multiple animated series (one of which I wrote a review on in the early history of this blog, The Spectacular Spider-Man), a short-lived live action television series, and even a Broadway musical! For the record, Marc Webb's The Amazing Spider-Man was decidedly underwhelming, and I haven't heard good things about its sequel, leaving me hesitant to embrace it.

A final question must be addressed concerning the topic of Spider-Man: If Spider-Man is, in fact, the greatest superhero in comics, then why do I prefer Batman and associates? I guess it's because the Batman mythos harbors another character similar to yet very different from Spider-Man: Tim Drake. I'm primarily a DC man, and I'll always cast my sword with Batman and his associates in that regard. I like Batman, Tim Drake's Robin, and Jean-Paul Valley's Azrael because they've got this edge to them, this "cool" factor. Spider-Man may be more fun, but Batman is more cool. Nevertheless, I'd like to make clear that Spider-Man is really the only Marvel hero that I've ever particularly liked. I intend to get into Thor later, and maybe Captain America, but for now, Spider-Man is my only hero at Marvel. But perhaps that will change someday. In the meantime, Thwip!

Image courtesy of designyoutrust.com