Superman: Birthright and Superman for All Seasons: A Tale of Two Takes on an Icon

Author's Note: I am holding off on my long-promised post on the Air Nomads and Religious Vegetarianism, for the sake of obtaining more in-depth information about the subject. Until then, please enjoy this post about Superman.

I've written about Superman movies before, but I've never really written about Superman himself, let alone Superman comics. But over the last week or so, I've finally gotten around to reading Superman: Birthright and Superman for All Seasons, a pair of pretty notable Superman stories. The former was written by the esteemed Mark Waid, while the latter was written and illustrated by the equally esteemed team of Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale, respectively. This latter pair was also behind Batman: The Long Halloween and Batman: Dark Victory, the former being one of my favorite Batman stories. Meanwhile, Waid has written or co-written such great stories as Kingdom Come and 52, as well as acclaimed runs on The Flash, JLA, and also Daredevil over at Marvel.

Getting back to Superman, these two stories both helped to define Superman in comics in ways that were both hugely significant and hugely differing. Today, we will examine the differences between Birthright and Seasons as stories, as well as their respective takes on the world's most iconic superhero.

Right off the bat, Superman: Birthright is very different from Superman for all Seasons. Birthright was spawned in the early 2000's and ran for 12 issues. It was, at the time, meant to be the definitive superhero origin story for Superman, a concept which even then had been done literally dozens of time. Comics scholar Chris Sims notes that even before Birthright, Superman: Secret Origin, and Superman: Earth One all came about, both he and a friend agreed that the last thing they wanted to see in comics was yet another Superman origin story. Exactly why he believes this is beyond the scope of this post, but you can read all about it here. (A word of warning: I'll be citing Mr. Sims a lot in this article.)

Birthright's take on Superman's origin story seeks to capture the feel of Superman is a more "toned-down" and "realistic" way, which is generally code for our hero constantly expressing angst at his predicament. The edition I read stated that Birthright was specifically designed to mirror the approach that the odious Smallville was taking, which is never a good sign. Even the art has that weird, edgy, penciled look that was common in its day, leftover from the exaggeratedly grim and gritty feel that nearly all 90s comics had.

In the hands of a lesser talent, this might lead to what happened with Man of Steel. Not Mark Waid though, oh no. He manages to successfully present a version of Superman that is largely true to the character, yet at the same time mess it up just enough to make is significantly imperfect. Birthright's main problem in this regard is that it keeps looking for explanations and justifications for details that don't or shouldn't need to be explained or justified. The classic example, as indicated by Sims, is the rationale behind putting a giant red "S" on Superman's costume. There's a lot of ballyhoo about it being some kind of Kryptonian crest or a symbol of hope or whatever stupid crud they routinely pull out of their butts at the DC editorial offices, but Sims has a simpler explanation: He wears an "S" on his chest because "S" stands for Superman. There. Done. Mystery solved.

One thing that I actually did like that Waid elaborated on more fully was his explanation of how Superman's Clark Kent disguise manages to fool his coworkers, who are all reporters. It's brilliantly done, with Clark putting a lot of effort into it and nearly blowing it more than once. However, it leads to the one thing which I really don't like about Birthright, and it's not even in the story itself, but in the afterword: Waid goes out and states flatly that Clark Kent is the "mask" and Superman is the real man.

Bullcrap.

Aside from the obvious play for the appeal of Batman, a strategy makes minimal sense for reasons that we won't go into right now, the idea of Clark Kent being the "mask" and Superman being the "real man" is plainly flawed. It all boils down to Superman and Clark Kent being two sides of the same person who acts differently around different people, ditto for Batman and everyone else. The fact that Mark Waid of all people bought into it is beyond me.

Birthright itself is workable, enjoyable even, but still flawed. It focuses on how Superman would supposedly be found scary by the denizens of our oh-so-scared-and-paranoid post-9/11 world, and ever so trusting of a bald, corporate elitist like Luthor. I quickly debunked this idea when I asked my mom, no comic book aficionado, if she would be freaked out if Superman touched down in our backyard. The answer: Not if he looked like the Christopher Reeve version. Bingo! Guess what Birthright's Superman looks like? Sure, the folks in the military might be a bit spooked, but who's going to be scared by a guy with no mask flying around wearing a big red cape helping people?

Which brings us to Superman for All Seasons.

Seasons isn't so much an origin story as it is a summation of who Superman is and how he came to be. Everything from the narrative structure to the art is focused on producing a story which does this. The logical result of this methodology is that Seasons is nothing at all like Waid's pseudo-dour Birthright. We see Superman through the eyes of his family, friends, and that one bald guy who's his biggest enemy. Loeb and Sale specifically note that they wanted the art to be reminiscent of Norman Rockwell paintings, which gives us an incredible effect. It's homely, warm, inviting, emotional, and poignant. Heck, it's even fun!

One thing that makes Seasons such a classic is that it doesn't fall prey to the trap of obsessing over details which ultimately have little relevance to the story. Instead, its story and visuals primarily focus on developing the characters, creating memorable scenes, and communicating a rich narrative. As a result, the small details that fill up the background in these 4 issues give it a richness that Birthright could barely accomplish in 12. Every character from the Man of Steel himself to Smallville's local minister all stick in your mind and are beautifully rendered. Every panel gives us something visually worthwhile to look at. The stories this four-issue series tells us are breathtakingly engaging and a pleasure to read. There's no fretting about how Clark got his journalism degree or why he decided to be a superhero. Why he did it is decided in 2 pages -heck, I doubt it was that many- more effectively than Birthright's 2 or 3 issues devoted to the subject.

Most of all, there's a sharp contrast given between Superman and Lex Luthor. We're not given a totally solid explanation about why Superman and Luthor are at odds (we rarely are), but it's made clear that Luthor's an evil bad guy who firmly believes himself to be the good guy, and there's no tragic backstory given to justify what a jerkhole he is. He's just like that, and because of him, Metropolis is initially a fairly disagreeable place to live. That is, until Superman shows up.

To be fair to Birthright, elements of that story sort of leak into Geoff Johns' Superman: Secret Origin, which I believe is the best Superman origin story which I have yet read, though there are many out there. In truth, Secret Origin combines a lot of aspects from both Birthright and Seasons, such as Clark and Luthor knowing each other as children, or Superman's behavior as Clark Kent being at least partly natural and genuine, respectively. This results is a story which is decidedly above par, but not quite on the level of a classic like Seasons.

In the end, while Birthright does have some things going for it, I'll definitely choose Seasons any day of the week as my choice interpretation of Superman. It just has so much more life and energy that Birthright only dreams of having. They're both good, but only Superman for all Seasons is a truly great interpretation of an American icon. I'm just glad that I finally read it.

Image 1 courtesy amazon.com. Image 2 courtesy samquixote.blogspot.com

The Legend of Korra - Book 3: Change: Zaheer and Moral Syncretism

I'm not gonna lie, Book 3 of The Legend of Korra is easily the best season of the show that I've seen yet. I haven't seen Book 4, however, so I'll have to wait until then to judge whether or not this is in fact the best season yet. A word of warning though: Due to the nature of the post's content, some substantial spoilers regarding Zaheer's motivations will be mentioned.

The Legend of Korra - Book 3: Change is everything that this sequel series to Avatar: The Last Airbender was hyped to be from the start: bigger, better, and more beautiful than we've seen yet. Taking place a couple weeks after the events of the sadly mediocre Book 2: Spirits, we see that Harmonic Convergence (long story) left dozens of random non-benders across the world -including Tenzin's brother Bumi- with the ability to airbend. This prompts Korra, Mako, Bolin, Tenzin, Asami, Bumi, and Jinora to embark on a quest to gather the new airbenders and rebuild the Air Nomads from the ground up. Unbeknownst to them, however, a mysterious warrior poet named Zaheer (voiced by Henry Rollins) has broken out of prison under the watch of the strangely incompetent White Lotus, with airbending abilities of his own. He pulls together his own team of elite benders to strike at Team Avatar for enigmatic purposes. Will Korra and company succeed in their quest before Zaheer achieves his mysterious plan? (Good grief, I'm beginning to sound like Shiro Shinobi.)

Aside from the intense emotion, high drama, funny dialogue, stunning visuals, great voice acting, and cool action that is by now par for the course on this show, Book 3 boasts what is quite easily the best villain we've seen yet. Unalaq and Vaatu were just two more generic evil bad guys at the end of the day, and Amon, while getting an awesome build-up, was the victim of a lousy payoff. It didn't help that he and Tarrlok went out kind of stupidly, and don't even get me started on Hiroshi Saito. Zaheer though, Zaheer is a whole different animal. Zaheer is quite easily one of the best TV villains I've seen yet, and the best I've ever seen in an animated series. I'd even say that he's one of the best villains we've seen in the entire Avatar-franchise, up there with Azula, Long Feng, and Ozai. What makes Zaheer such a great villain? Simple: He has the most complex, well-developed, interesting, and well-executed motivation we've ever seen on this entire show, and in my book is tied with Zuko for that category in the entire franchise.

But what is that motivation, and why is it so important to Zaheer's character?

As any seasoned writer who might be reading this blog would know, in a story, character motivation is everything. Without a motivation, a character is just a random blip on the screen with no purpose and no place in the story. They're just there, doing nothing, affecting nothing, and that makes for a pretty boring story. Believe it or not, making up a character motivation is a lot harder than it sounds if you're a writer. I can't begin to tell you of the ribbings I endured in an old creative writing class I took a few years ago that stemmed from my characters having terrible, poorly thought out motivations. Simply put, the better motivation a character has, the better odds he (or she!) has of being a great character. And remember what Zaheer has?

That's the thing about Zaheer though: His motivation is so complex and mysterious that even Korra and the rest of Team Avatar doesn't know what's driving him and his pals until about halfway through the season, and even then it blows their minds even more than it does the audience's. The long and short of it is that the guiding philosophy of Zaheer's group is that the natural order of the world is, in fact, disorder, and that they are on a righteous mission to topple all the world's governments and throw the world into anarchy. Throw in a smattering of humanism, and you've got what amounts to Zen Anarchism, which is probably the most bizarre philosophical label I've ever seen, discussed, or otherwise conceived of.

It's also inherently unworkable.

I don't know exactly what the show's illustrious creators (Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko) were trying to do when they introduced Zaheer, but Zen Anarchism as a practical philosophy is fundamentally irreconcilable with its very self. Zen, insofar as I understand it, is the attainment of wisdom through meditation, which in Eastern philosophical thought is basically thinking really, really hard. Anarchism, on the other hand, advocates for a stateless society where no government exists, based on the premise that any kind of governance only leads to more suffering, which is right where Zaheer stands. But the entities that cherish the obtaining of knowledge and wisdom, such as institutions of higher learning and many religious bodies, are historically shown to be byproducts of an established society in which there exists some sort of governing authority. The environment of peace and safety required to pursue a Zen-like lifestyle is unattainable in an environment of anarchy. As James Madison wrote in The Federalist No. 51, "If men were angels, no government would be necessary." 


If men were angels. The key problem with with Zaheer's outlook is that he's got all backwards. Men aren't angels because of bad governments; certain governments are bad because men aren't angels. One particularly memorable scene from episode 3 of Book 3: Change ("The Earth Queen") features Team Avatar arriving at Ba Sing Se. In an obvious parallel to a similar scene in Book 2: Earth of Airbender, they come into the city, only to find that it's a old, broken down cesspit of poverty and pestilence, ruled over by a despotic dragon-lady of a monarch who bleeds the people of their tax-money and then leaves them to rot. The message: Things haven't changed at all. If anything, they've gotten worse. In universe, the Ba Sing Se of 75-plus years prior was, in Troper parlance, a Crapsaccharine World. At least there was a semblance of order, and things were relatively safe and peaceful. Now, it's a full-on kleptocracy, where the kingdom and its citizens are the chattels of the Earth Queen. 

Does this mean that all government is inherently bad? Not quite. While any human effort to erect a lasting authority based on its own principles, borrowed or invented, is doomed to fail, almost any government is worse than no government. An every-man-for-himself mentality, where the rule of law is defined by who carries the biggest stick, is unquestionably a chaotic nightmare that only a shortsighted fool would really want. Look no further than Somalia. Is Zaheer such a shortsighted fool? He's no dummy, but I think we'll have to wait until Book 4 to find out the real answer to that question, owing to the inevitable consequences of the back half of Book 3: Change.

In short, man was never meant to live apart from his neighbor, a situation which Anarchism cannot resolve. You can talk all you want about mutual cooperation without government, but again, men are not angels. A mirror of the ultimate authority is needed if the ends of God are to be met, that is, if mercy, justice, peace, love, and gentleness are to be the ruling attributes of a society. The common refrain in the book of Judges was, "In those days there was no king in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes." Scary, huh? In the book of Romans, Paul wrote, "Let every person be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God." Jesus Christ himself said in the book of Luke, concerning taxes, “Then render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's.” Zaheer may think he knows what's best for the world, but Korra and company would be happy to know that he's wrong, rightfully rejecting Zaheer's worldview.

In sum, Zaheer has great appeal as a villain. He's smart, cunning, cool, has a complex and compelling motivation, and feels like a flesh-and-blood person. He's not a megalomaniac like Ozai, nor is he a destructive tyrant like Unalaq. He has a lot more in common with Amon than anyone else, even though they fall on two opposite extremes of the ideological spectrum. He even has a girlfriend, for Pete's sake! (Incidentally, I think that "The Earth Queen" features the franchise's first onscreen lip-lock between two consenting adults.) I love how he quotes poetry and airbends like a boss, because he's just that awesome. It helps that he has some real badbutt friends. His "philosophical mumbo-jumbo," as Korra put it, may be unsound, but he's nonetheless a very charismatic villain.

Next time, we'll be talking about another interesting faucet of The Legend of Korra: The Metal Clan.

Images courtesy of avatar.wikia.com

Firefly: The 'Verse According to Mal

I was first introduced to Firefly in 2011 while researching for a paper on the comparative merits of science fiction and fantasy. In hindsight, I believe that this particular subject was too subjective to warrant serious debate in an academic paper, amount to little more than an opinion piece followed by a comparison of box office numbers and accolades. However, researching for this paper allowed my dear friend Nathan (a different Nathan; not the one who believes that the 1978 Superman film is the greatest superhero film ever made, and yes Nate, I will never stop bugging you about that, old pal) to help me start watching Firefly. I remember liking the show then, and I recently re-watched the whole series on a whim, and I was blown away by how good it actually was to my older eyes. A combination of witty dialogue, fun action, engaging stories, excellent acting and production design, and a ingeniously creative plot made for what could potentially have been the greatest sci-fi TV show ever made.

For those who don't know, Firefly was a short-lived television series created by Joss Whedon, the man behind Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and The Avengers. Firefly fell into the sort of unique genre-splicing category that Whedon is known for, being best described as space western. You have a nine guys and gals flying through space in a ship called Serenity in the years following a galactic civil war. Serenity is captained by Malcolm "Mal" Reynolds (Nathan Fillion), a veteran of the losing side of the war, the Independents. The winner of that war, the Alliance, is depicted as a callous, draconian regime which Mal states is intent on everyone being "interfered with or ignored equally." After re-watching these 14 episodes in preparation for finally watching the big-screen sequel Serentiy, I came to conclude that Malcolm Reynolds is probably best described as a libertarian.

Don't ask me what Whedon's personal political views are, but I believe that this series is probably the most balanced and compelling portrayal of a political viewpoint which I remotely agree with. Mal cherishes what freedom and livelihood is left for him and his compatriots as smugglers, prowling the edges of "civilized" space looking for work, legal or illegal. He and his crew know that their business is a dangerous one, but Mal firmly wants to avoid being caught up in the society of the government he loathes, be it "make-work" jobs provided by the Alliance or even a semblance of legitimacy under the same oppressive system. In other words, he's a disaffected man of principle who doesn't like to admit that he still has principles.

And he truly is disaffected; before the end of the war, Mal was a religious man who fought for his comrades and his cause, ready to charge into battle at a moment's notice. When we see him in the series in the present day, he has no love for God, having an awkward, sometimes tense relationship with Shepherd Book (Ron Glass), a preacher who finds himself traveling aboard Serenity. On the surface, Mal hasn't changed much since before and after the war, still being generally affable and honest, aside from the occasional illegal activity that he and his crew engage in. But underneath, he's plainly much more cynical and dour than he was before, and remains that way throughout the series. I haven't seen Serenity (the movie) yet, but I understand that this might change a little. And there's still all the Serenity comics that I have to read...

The main point, however, is that in a fictional world plainly meant to resemble post-Civil War America, Mal is a clear analogue to the Confederate soldier who honestly believed that he was fighting for a just cause when he signed up for the Confederate army, and then wondering why their just cause hadn't won the day. Unfortunately, that's where the similarities end. The Union is not the Alliance, and the Alliance is not the Union. There's no Lincoln here, no Robert E. Lee, no Grant, no Jefferson Davis. As much of a parallel it's meant to be, the context simply doesn't allow for any great analogy between the two situation than on a primarily superficial level.

Insofar as I know, there hasn't been much detail given about the exact nature of the Independents' idea of good government, if any, so it's obviously difficult to give a fair evaluation between the broad swathes of a despotic federated entity and a libertarian resistance movement. If what I've heard about the Alliance from other sources is anything to go by, however, I think that it's more than fair to say that they're obviously really bad guys. Until I watch Serenity and read the comics, I confess that I might not be able to produce as well-rounded an analysis on this subject as I could, but I believe that at the moment, I'm pretty sure this will do. Besides, when I finally do watch Serenity, I'll have someone else to write about: Shepherd Book.

Fun Fact: Alen Tudyk, who played Wash in Firefly, also voiced Mickey in Halo 3: ODST and Krei is Big Hero 6. Tudyk wasn't the only Firefly actor to voice a character in ODST. Nathan Fillion voiced Buck, and Adam Baldwin, who played Jayne in Firefly, voiced Dutch.

Image courtesy of moviepilot.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 Abolition of Man

The Abolition of Man is not a title of C.S. Lewis' I was initially familiar with when I picked it up in a bookstore in Cannon Beach last month. Like so many other things, I had heard of it, but I didn't know much about it. After reading it, I was glad to have read it and found the subject matter relevant even now, but I do not believe that it was as powerful as some of his other works.

By no means am I decrying C.S. Lewis' work here, oh, far from it. Published in 1943, The Abolition of Man seeks to criticize and deconstruct the view that "old fashioned" values such as courage and loyalty are precisely that: "old fashioned." The main thrust of the argument amounts to a defense of what we today call Natural Law, that is, universal moral standards, and also a strong blow against subjectivism. The contents of the book are adapted from a three part lecture series given by Lewis at the King's College. Also found within the book are Lewis' thoughts on certain aspects of modern educational materials, the extent of science's usefulness in ascertaining truth, and other subjects.

I readily admit that this is the first of Lewis' books that I have read which was purely academic in nature. That said, it's a bit harder to wrap my mind around than the familiar direct-and-to-the-point theological instruction than can be found in The Screwtape Letters or Mere Christianity. Of course, perhaps it's not quite accurate to refer to Lewis' writing as "direct-and-to-the-point" insomuch as it is eloquent and witty, yet comprehensible. Here, Lewis does write well, explaining the topic in a manner which demonstrates his good understanding of the subject. His prose communicates his point excellently, and I agree with this overall conclusion, but there's just one problem: It's kind of hard to understand just what that overall conclusion is.

I known I explained it already in the second paragraph, but I had to mull it over for a while and read around to piece it all together. I understand that Lewis is basically saying, concerning traditional moral values, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." It just took a while for me personally to digest the whole thing. It doesn't help that Lewis is constantly straying into Natural Law theory and referencing the Chinese Tao, which only serves to muddle his message even more. It's a good book and it teaches a good thing, and reading it sure made me feel smart, and I came away feeling like I'd learned something, and I totally agree with what Lewis is saying, but it's still super complicated.

One thing that did stand out for me, however, was the following quote from the end of chapter one: “We make men without chests and expect from them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honor and are shocked to find traitors in our midst.” Now that is the sort of thing I like to hear from C.S. Lewis; wise, witty, and wonderfully insightful, remaining as relevant now as it was back in 1943, perhaps even more so. In the end, while I can't say that The Abolition of Man is my favorite of C.S. Lewis' works, I can neither say in good conscience that I disliked it. It was a fine read during my vacation and I wouldn't mind rereading it sometime in the future.

RATING: 7.5/10

Image courtesy of slasherpastor.wordpress.com

Review: Batman: Knight and Squire

Due to my review backlog, it's been a while since I actually read the work I am about to review. Thankfully enough, it was pretty memorable. Batman: Knight and Squire, written by Paul Cornell with art by Jimmy Broxton, is a six-issue miniseries telling of the adventures of Batman and Robin's British counterparts. You've got Knight, a.k.a. Sir Cyril Sheldrake, and his lovely sidekick Squire, a.k.a. Beryl Hutchinson. Both are legacy characters, in that Cyril's father and grandfather both previously bore the title of Knight, and Squire inherited her own title from Cyril and Cyril's father. As a side-note, the only place that Batman appears in this book is on the front page- in the title. Otherwise, despite getting the umbrella title, the Dark Knight is nowhere in sight in this book. But a certain other character in the Batman mythos shows his face in the latter stages of the story.

Superhero shenanigans in England are a bit more off-kilter than they are on our side of the pond. Firstly, you've got a bar where both English superheroes and supervillains meet to shoot the breeze, guaranteed by "truce magic." Then there's the Morris Men, portrayed as ninja-like troublemakers, and Jarvis Poker, the British Joker, and the various other superheroes who patrol England. These include Salt of the Earth, Milkman, and Squire's new boyfriend, reformed villain Shrike. At first, all seems well in merry England... but not for long.

Batman: Knight and Squire is built largely on humor and zany action-adventure. Every other panel has a throwaway gag involving some obscure British pop-cultural reference, helpfully explained at the end of each issue. Most of the stories don't take themselves too seriously. As it progresses, however, the series slowly eases out of humorous antics into more serious territory, with everything coming to a crescendo at the end of the second-to-last issue. The whole series is a homage to and reconstruction of goofy Silver Age yarns, before doing a 180 into a grim-and-gritty, high-stakes crime thriller. If this sounds jarring and abrupt, fear not, gentle reader. While there is a significant tone shift after issue five, the characters maintain their personalities, communicating to the audience (metaphorically, of course) that they're just as surprised and confused about the sudden turn of events as they are.

Knight and Squire's London is much more equivalent to the Gotham City of Batman '66 than to anything else. The titular characters of the book are local celebrities who routinely appear on TV talk shows and are featured in the tabloids. Likewise, supervillains do little in the way of actual crime, with even the most preeminent among them, such as Jarvis Poker, pulling little more than harmless pranks. Supervillains can be found hanging out in convenience stores while Beryl grabs a magazine. Cyril dates pop stars, consulting with his American butler Hank after a breakup. It may sound a bit surreal, but on reading it, it is actually quite amusing.

My favorite installment in the series was definitely issue three, in which scientists use cloning technology to resurrect Richard III, who promptly starts speaking in iambic pentameter before embarking on a plot to conquer England through... Twitter? Well, they don't actually call it "Twitter," but still, it's pretty funny. It's madcap fun like this that reminds me of what Booster Gold needs to be more like, or of what I'm sure Justice League International was like, or even of what Silver Age Superman was like. Honestly, I'm surprised that Chris Sims isn't all over this book. This particular brand of comic book adventure is just the sort of thing that will appeal to fans of Doctor Who and the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Incidentally, Paul Cornell actually wrote a few episodes of Doctor Who.

To summarize, Batman: Knight and Squire is an eccentric, fun-filled romp through British pop-culture which any anglophile will appreciate. Oddly enough, however, one of my only two real complaints is that it relies on its British pop-culture references a little too much. My other complaint is that the ending is a bit too abrupt and unresolved, like they were trying as quickly as possible to wrap the story up. Even one more issue to stretch things out would have made things a bit better. But as it is, it's a fun little story which showcases two of my favorite minor comic book characters. Tally ho, gents!

RATING: 7.5/10

Image courtesy of amazon.com

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

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!

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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

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

Review: Booster Gold: The Tomorrow Memory

A while back, I reviewed Booster Gold: Day of Death. In hindsight, I think I gave too high a rating, as it was, in truth, pretty mediocre. Indeed, Booster Gold's eponymous series was never particularly outstanding, but it was one thing that made it stand head and shoulders above the rest: It was fun. In a world surrounded by joyless, ultra-serious grim-and-grittiness, we have a fun, irreverent, silly book which plays with the idea of time travel in a superhero shared universe. The stories in this title are sometimes a bit involved, and require the reader to have some knowledge of the fictional history of the DC Universe, but the comic usually fills the reader in so that they know enough to enjoy the story.

For instance, the primary story arc of this book, "The Tomorrow Memory", heavily involves that time when Cyborg-Superman and Mongul teamed up to destroy Coast City and turn it into a giant engine for a new War World. (Told you so.) The basic plot is that 75 or so years in the future, the government has developed crude time travel abilities and sends an agent back in time to avert the disaster. Booster Gold, being the protector of the integrity of the time stream with Rip Hunter, has to make sure that history happens as it did, including resulting in Coast City being wiped off the map. The aforementioned agent isn't too happy about this, but neither is Booster.

The other story in this book precedes "The Tomorrow Memory," and is a two-parter focusing on what Booster Gold was doing during the Blackest Night crisis crossover back in 2009. Man, has it already been five years? Anyway, this story features Booster and Blue Beetle (Jaime Reyes) being forced to fight a reanimated Blue Beetle (Ted Kord), Booster's dead best friend. It's appropriately titled "Dead Ted."

The thing about this title is that is plays with the concept of time travel without trying to sound too clever about it. There's not a whole lot of time spent discussing how exactly the mechanics of time travel work, with the main focus being on how Booster and co. deal with having to protect history- even when it means letting terrible things happen. This trade paperback also toys around with the idea that there are people outside of Booster and Rip's little group who can travel in time and want to "help" by averting big disasters. At the same time, I'm kind of disappointed that The Tomorrow Memory wasn't gutsy enough to apply the idea to real life catastrophes, like the First and Second World Wars. On the other hand, it may have been a good idea to show some respect for real life tragedies and stick to metatextual commentary on fictional events. I guess it all depends on personal preference, and I suppose it wasn't such a bad way to go.

Another particularly great thing in this book is the emotion. In "Dead Ted", Booster is forced to fight the reanimated corpse of his dead best friend, who has Ted's voice, memories, gadgets, etc. Booster's initial response to the situation is actually kind of funny, in a weird, twisted sort of way. In this story, however, Booster is seen dealing with Ted's death at Ted's funeral in the past. It's some really heart-pounding stuff, and the end of this story is pretty touching.

The best stuff, however, is in "The Tomorrow Memory" where Booster is reunited with his sister, Michelle, who got ticked off at him in the previous book and lost herself a few years in the past. There's a whole final issue devoted to Booster mending fences with Michelle over what happened during this story arc. We get to really dig into Booster's feelings about his hero career, and how much he hates his job, but goes on doing it anyway. Rip Hunter also gets some character development in a very spoileriffic way which I won't discuss here. I will say, however, that Rip is more than just Booster Gold's mentor: He's a superhero in his own right. And I've got to say, I like Rip almost as much as I like Booster. That last issue is probably my favorite in the whole series, next to the Batman-secret-keeper one.

In short, Booster Gold: The Tomorrow Memory isn't the best comic book story around, or even the best Booster Gold story, but it's still quite good. Despite my better rating of the previous trade, I actually liked this one better, and I think it is better. The only particular flaws were more annoyances than anything else. For instance, at the beginning of almost every issue, Booster takes some time to explain via inner monologue his basic origin story, which kind of got on my nerves. I understand that there's a lot of pressure on these writers to cater to new readers who are cold calling on these issues, but it does so at the expense of loyal, longtime readers and fans. I was like, "I know this already. Get on with it!" There's also the art, which looks great, but the fight scenes just look a little uncoordinated and goofy. Other than these few complaints, I recommend this books for all Booster Gold fans, and happily direct such readers to Justice League International, 52, and Justice League: Generation Lost, the last being one of my favorite comic book series.

RATING: 7.5/10

Image courtesy of collectededition.blogspot.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: The Legend of Korra – Book 2: Spirits

Book 3: Change of The Legend of Korra just began airing this week, so it's only fitting that I have finally gotten around to reviewing Book 2: Spirits. In this second season of the sequel series to Avatar: The Last Airbender, Korra and company are doing fine. Mako has joined the police force, Korra is working on Airbending full time, and Bolin... well, things kind of blow for Bolin, because he's stuck with a now much reduced pro-bending team. Tenzin has been relieved of his duties as a councilman following the establishment of a presidency in the United Republic of Nations, and now gets to spend more time with his family. His brother and sister, Bumi and Kya, are hanging around with him too, much to the airbender's chagrin. So, I suppose that everything is fine and dandy in the world of Korra... Yeah, ha ha, no. Korra and company decide to go to the South Pole on vacation, when Unalaq, Chieftain of the Northern Water Tribe, shows up and decides to mentor Korra in spiritbending. Korra, who for some reason is acting like a self-absorbed jerk like she was at the beginning of the last season, rejects Tenzin as her teacher and decides to train under Unalaq. Meanwhile, her father, Tanroq, is none to happy with any of this. What's the point of all this? I'll give you a hint: Unalaq isn't exactly a good guy, and he's got designs on getting power through opening a portal to the Spirit World. In a word, yeesh.

In the previous season and in Avatar: The Last Airbender, the Spirit World was something of a mystery. There wasn't much clarity on how exactly it worked, or how to get to it. Aang usually went to it in moments of crisis or on the eve of important battles (as brilliantly lampshaded by Sokka in "Sozin's Comet Part 1: The Phoenix King"), but it was never really explored in depth. It's not easy to say whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, retaining the Spirit World as a source of mystery and suspense to be milked for a long time is the easy way out, but it's not the best way. Greg Farshtey of Bionicle once spoke of what he called the "Sizzle and Steak" rule. He said that presenting a really cool concept like Bionicle or the Spirit World made for a good attention-grabber, and also for a great story. However, the "sizzle" could only be maintained for so long before you had to produce the steak, that is, the fulfillment of the story. If you kept the sizzle going for too long, you could potentially burn the steak. In this case, the Spirit World is taken off the metaphorical grill a little haphazardly. It's not burnt per se, but it's about to fall off the plate. What I mean is that the topic of the Spirit World isn't treated with the mystery or reverence it deserves, with little time being devoted to exactly why what's going on is what's going on now. By that, I mean random spirit-monsters showing up to randomly fight Korra and company. Don't get me wrong, the Spirit World sequences have lots of the pop kung fu wisdom we've come to expect from this show and its predecessor, not to mention mystery and suspense, but it wasn't done in quite the way Airbender did it.

Another problem with Book 2: Spirits is the large cast. In Avatar: The Last Airbender, we had the power trio of Aang, Katara, and Sokka, with the supporting characters and nominal villains of Zuko and Iroh. Toph and Azula were introduced later, not to mention the large ring of supporting characters. Here, we have Korra, Mako, Bolin, Asami, Tenzin, Pema, Tenzin's kids, Unalaq, Bumi, Kya,  Eska and Desna, and Varrick, plus Tonraq, Vaatu, Raava, Wan, and a handful of others. The regular cast has been doubled, but there's not nearly enough time to flesh them out more, and characters that totally deserve more screen time are kicked to the periphery, such as Lin Bei Fong, Iroh II, and old Katara.

It doesn't help that the characterization of these people is all over the map. Korra seems to have gotten Iron Man 2 Syndrome, in which the character, at the beginning of the second installment, totally rescinds her previous character development. She's an arrogant, self-absorbed jerkaholic. Small wonder she likes Mako so much. Thankfully, character (re)development kicks in about halfway through, and she's once again new and improved. Also notable in the area of character development are Tenzin and Bolin. Tenzin spends the entire season struggling with dredged up sibling rivalry issues with Bumi and Kya, while at the same time trying to live up to the legacy of his father, Avatar Aang. His arc manages to to come to a more satisfying conclusion than that of last season, which includes a deepened understanding of his relationship with Korra. Meanwhile, Bolin finds himself shoved to the sidelines as Korra is busy PMSing, Mako is brooding, Asami is engaging in shady business deals, and Tenzin is... on vacation? (Seriously, Tenzin could not have picked a worse time to tour the four Air Temples. They just had the first free elections in a world occupied by four hereditary monarchies, for goodness sake.) This allows Bolin to strike out on his own and be a hero in his own right, culminating in the pretty cool "Night of a Thousand Stars."

What does this season get right? Obviously, the show is visually gorgeous. Studio Mir and Studio Pierrot did a fantastic job animating the series, though of particular note is "Beginnings" Parts 1 & 2. These episodes show the origins of Wan, the first Avatar, and demonstrates a whole different artistic style. It's a very inventive tactic which harkens back to a similar effect used in the flashback portions of the dismal Avatar: The Last Airbender Book 1 episode "The Great Divide," only this time it was used on a much larger scale, with better execution, and a far greater result. In addition, the voice acting is superbly done, with Janet Varney, J.K. Simmons and the rest bringing out the characters and emotions in a worthy manner. I could go on to praise the sound, cinematic style, music, and other such things, but I will refrain, having no real, trained knowledge of such topics anyway. What I'm trying to say is that, technically speaking, much like the 1989 Batman film, there is nothing wrong with this show.

However, as visually beautiful as this particular season of Korra is, I still have some complaints about it. Sure, it's entertaining, but it is imperfect, falling far short of the standard set by Avatar: The Last Airbender, and even by Book 1: Air. My two main problems with Book 2: Spirits, similar in nature to the problems with aforementioned 1989 Batman film, are with the plotting and the villain. The plotting is a bit strained mainly because of the aforementioned spotty characterizations, but there are other factors. The plotting itself is torn in too many directions in the first half, and too few in the second half. We've got the Unalaq's Evil Plan plot, the Tenzin family vacation plot, the Korra and Company's Spirit World Adventures plot, the Asami and Varrick shady business deals plot, Jinora's Spirit World Adventures plot, the Tonraq's rebellion plot, and the terrorist bombing plot. All of these are resolved or blended together by "Night of a Thousand Stars," but then the second half tries to balance all of these characters doing one thing at once, and inevitably a few get left out, namely poor old Asami.

In the context of all this, we run into an even bigger problem: Unalaq. Bruce Willis once said that a story is only as smart as its villain. A story requires conflict to be interesting, even if there is no plot (see Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain). Therefore, the conflict, and thereby the plot, comes from the villain. This principle is called the Law of Bruce. In regards to this principle, Unalaq does fine, in that there's plenty of conflict. However, when we finally are given the scope of his plan, we aren't really given the whys and what-for's of his plan. Why does he want to unlock the spirit portals? Why does he want to merge with Vaatu? Why does he want to plunge the world into darkness and chaos? Why?! In a sense, Unalaq is just another crazed dictator who wants to rule the world who also wants to be Heath Ledger's Joker, and that's been done to death, resurrected, cloned, and then slaughtered all over again. At least Firelord Ozai was menacing and cool. Unalaq is just another villain, and Vaatu is almost as bad, though only less so because his entire shtick is based on being the manifestation of evil and chaos, so there's motivation for you.

In sum, while The Legend of Korra - Book 2: Spirits is admittedly entertaining and action-packed, it needs a bit of work. It's visually stunning and still pretty darn good for its genre, that genre being children's cartoons, but it's barely half as good as its counterpart from the original series, Book 2: Earth. The character arcs are sloppily arranged, the plotting is clumsily done, and the entire reason for the season's secondary villain doing his thing has a lot in common with a real life conspiracy theory which posits that a coalition of arms dealers worked to initiate the First World War. This is only fitting, given the historical tone the series is striving for, but I do wish they would have gone with real history. Korra continues to please, and I have high hopes for the next season, but I can't help but wonder if we could be getting something better. It was fairly good, but also disappointing.

RATING: 7.5/10

Image courtesy of amazon.com