Son of Batman - Review

There really isn’t any reason at this stage in The Game for a major studio to put out so awful a movie, especially on one of its leading brands. Despite how well established BATMAN is, and how well DC has done with previous animated features (see Under The Red Hood and Flashpoint), Son of Batman manages to screw up nearly everything. The lead-up seemed good! I watched the behind-the-scenes trailer. Every single person on there was passionate and knowledgeable. So… did none of them have anything to do with this film? I noticed the credits didn’t make any mention of Bruce Timm. Is there really no second in all of Warner Bros. to handle this?

I’m all for reinterpretations of characters. But Deathstroke, master assassin / strategist can’t be transformed into an overly talkative, supremely incompetent, whiny, loser. The rest of the cast doesn’t suffer as bad but they each have scenes of acting contrary to their core ideals. It’s not a case of this character doing things “differently”, it’s that they act so blindingly stupid it defies any characterization.

Worse than my favorite people getting mishandled is the wooden everything. It kicks off with a big battle between ninjas with guns and ninjas with swords. Where, for the most part, they stare at each other. Yes, the swordsman square off and then cry out in surprise and pain when they’re shot. The ninjas with guns forget how to use them as soon as they touch ground. They have automatic weapons yet only fire (once) when some moron lunges for them. Not even a ninja lunge. The guy just leaps, sword up, knowing he’ll never bring it down. It’s that level of action throughout. Batman and Robin surrounded by ninja Man-Bats? Everyone pause to think through the situation. Pull out grapple gun. Aim. Shoot. Zip away. Man-Bats track. Take off in pursuit at their leisure. Thrilling.

Deathstroke deserves special mention for being one of the worst voice actors out there. He is the keystone of Wooden in this stale, “would swear it was made decades ago”, mess. Everyone else has forgettable dialogue. A blessing for Damien. Honorary Mention to Talia for the worst seduction scene in any medium. “I missed you… beloved (lifts leg like Captain Morgan)”.

I need to vent. It doesn’t make any fucking sense for Ras’ to be able to deflect bullets with a sword but lose a sword fight because he’s not fast enough. It doesn’t make any fucking sense for an eight year old boy to match strikes with a grown man, WHO IS ALSO ENCHANCED. It doesn’t make any fucking sense for Deathstroke to dodge under Damien’s sword slash. The kid is maybe five feet. Doing that limbo garbage was easier than hopping? No.

The behind-the-scenes trailer discussed, in-depth, the complex interpersonal relationships each of the main characters has to each other. On screen they opted to explore none of it. There’s a quick “this is weird” exchange between Damien, son of Bruce Wayne that he didn’t know about, and father. I’m sure more can be said. I’m sure more was said in the fucking graphic novel this was based on. How hard would it be to lift dialogue directly and plant it into one of the many scenes of awkward no talking? NOT HARD AT ALL.

I felt, after watching this, the only Justice to come from it would be if the Director and all the Producers were fired from story-telling forever. 

The Berlin'ing

It’s the unified character that is the most unsettling for an outside observer. Berlin seems to have been built with a single aesthetic choice in mind. Well, save the historical works. Everything modern is right angles and gray, though.  Each building vying to be more subdued than the last. Subdued from the point of a view of an American, where ostentatious sounds like an oxymoron. I cruised down grand sidewalks, easily double the size I’m used to, letting my eye bounce around, noting where it fell. But it did not fall. Storefronts had their signs and flair, but held well back from any level of intrusive. It feels like Berlin is a city for people who know it. My instincts to choose, at any intersection, the bright, the curved, the noisy were flustered.  At most turns were gray, straight, corridors. You should know the city said. (Special note: I am awful at taking pictures. I usually give myself about three seconds. Sometimes I don't stop walking. People looking at me will negatively impact my ability. You will, however, see exactly what I was looking at. Which is fun.)

How little I understood of the German people comes out with my descriptions lazily reduced to “not this”. I did not see people staring at small screens. Bright colors may be a crime. Sneakers far and away too vulgar. There was no snow but boots were the order of the day for all persons. Nice boots, I mean. Not Uggs or Timberlands. I thought of them as Italian because the only people I knew of who wore “nice” boots regardless of the season were Italians. I suppose I’ll need to broaden that to Europeans. It seemed unthinkable to Not be in excellent physical shape. The people were gorgeous. Striking because of my experience but not in their own expression. A simple outfit, hair tied back, clean face. It must be down in the bones. A perfect foundation. Not just the shine of youth or the payout of the genetic lottery.

It was strange the city did not try to rob me. Being a Major One. I’m used to meals being a minimum of $12. For a single, no frills, portion. Sure, most places will also offer half a sandwich for $8, but I’m not going to count that as a meal. It was all reasonable. Even the Fassbender & Rausch Chocolatiers am Gendarmenmarkt, fancy chocolate shop (it had a volcano!), appreciated the concept of a budget. There is a sightseeing tour for €20 that travels to many of the major landmarks, all day long, and it’s hop-on hop-off. Busses swing by every 10mins. An extra €4 to make it a two day pass? Shut-up. In comparison, there’s an amphibious (ok, extra points for that) tour that’s $28 for an hour and a half. The difference is that the Ducks promise an experience. Germans would have none of this “performance”. The sightseeing bus offered an extremely bored woman listing off the year each building was started / finished and designed by whom, in 17 languages (sometimes an interesting bit of history). And a map. Which, as a traveler, is fantastic. I studied the guidebook the hotel gave, for probably an hour total, and felt certain at the end of that time the map was not actually for Berlin. I could not find the hotel on it. I collected three maps by the end of my short stay, each one offered a piece of the whole picture. I would consult each to get a rough idea of my location, than narrow it down, then widen it again to find my destination, then fine tune it again. I’m absolutely positive had I been traveling alone I would have lost myself to despair and ran screaming through the streets, begging out of this madness, this maze. The pioneer spirit can only last so long. My companion had no qualms about hailing a taxi to which I owe my continued sanity. What pushes the psyche so hard is the monstrous size of the blocks. A decent walking pace yields a block per minute in my city. I felt it was closer to five minutes per in Berlin. You should know the city said. There won’t be a fun little check every sixty seconds, does this look right?

Things Have A Place. That’s a rule and everybody follows it. Advertisements go on these gray (of course) pillars that are situated every so often. Bikes are locked up (or not; unfathomable) on racks. There’s a tiny bit of trash. Dining on the sidewalk is huge (on tables and chairs, ‘natch). For me it was the coolest novelty mixed with the height of luxury. The blankets were colorful. That was allowed. And nobody stole them! It was communal without being forced. As if the mood was why not chat with passersby? Why not be part of the city still? The ubiquitous of it erased any pretention. The seats were not trendy little black and silver pieces. Very comfortable and matched the décor (and had blankets). What is this satisfaction of human desire? Not tarted up fantasy. Keep It Simple a lesson digested nationally, practiced at all times. Except for the traffic. Traffic in England was a ride, to me. Narrow streets driven by men who hauled ass regardless of their vehicle, or turns, or pedestrians. The Germans love to draw lines. As though to catalogue every possible position a vehicle may find itself on the road. Crosswalk signs were not on every street. You should know.

I missed so much. The best piece of art I saw was in the bathroom at a gay café. Which is no disrespect to city or café. My bad for not going to every gallery I possibly could in four days. I missed Currywurst! Though I did not rent a bike, the roads were bewildering enough I don’t really regret it. May I offer this bit of advice? Elevator rides to the top of giant towers should have windows. Bravo on every single person knowing at least two language. That's impressive.

Vicious, Book Review

VICIOUS, by V. E. Schwab.

This one was mislabeled. It should be considered Young Adult. Then I wouldn’t be so mad at the shitty characters or “what’s a second draft?” plot. It fits the teen crap category better anyway. Every inch of it screams “poorly thought out” with a vibe like this is all a high school club. The particulars:

Story: The one thing I won’t disparage about this “story” was the creation of EOs (ExtraOrdinary) but not because it was well-done, only because I know it’s a tough proposition. Here, the kids commit suicide and if they come back then get some power related to what they were thinking about at the time. Whatever, I haven’t heard that one before so it gets a pass.

The “story” is either in the past, going over how the two Mains got be feuding, or present, which styles itself a revenge tale but is going to feel like some snotty brat having a hissy. Good news: each chapter is short enough that if you do have really bad ADD then there’s not worry about not completing one.

The two guys, Victor & Eliot, start off as barely likeable assholes. They’re arrogant and take themselves way too serious. They’re friends even though neither trusts the other or really values them. You’re meant to believe they’re both perfect specimens of wit and physique without anything they ever do or say to back that up. Writer’s Tip! If you have to tell the reader how to feel about someone, you're not doing your job.

In the present, it’s said they’ve aged ten years but they act exactly the same. The ten years was thrown out there because it sounds heavy. By now the “drama” is a thick viscous coating the pages. Schwab favors short sentences meant to punch the reader with layers of meaning. Shit like “The morning was cold. And so was the look on Eli’s face when he pulled the gun. Sydney shivered”. I cringe to think if Schwab ever gave a reading of this garbage. But maybe they got Shatner to really give the prose its due.

Key points hinge on the reader not knowing who the police are or what they do. Main character got arrested for murder? Circumstantial evidence from an unreliable “friend” with an obvious axe to grind who didn’t actually witness it will put him away for ten. In fact, it might be best if the reader never referred to their own common sense. Wanted fugitives checking into an up-scale hotel? Cause Victor’s so smooth! Wanted fugitives walking around a town at all hours? Yeah, because the hacker guy HACKED their pictures out of all the databases on the whole planet. Driving the same stolen vehicle around for a couple days? No way anybody would be looking for it! Oh man Vic, you just told your enemy to meet you at midnight (so Tough Guy), do you have a plan? No. I’ll wait for the contrived plot to catch up. You know an author is writing by the seat of their pants when they have to spend a page explaining why, even though a character could do something that perfectly aligns with their goals, they won’t. Because my plot is falling apart after a hundred pages and I need to make it to three hundred.

Other “characters” have one power / ability, one obvious use, with little reason to be doing what they’re doing. Schwab struggles to hang any other details on their naked archetype builds. The hacker guy is really strong and likes chocolate milk. I mean, it’s getting there…

For Victor and Eli, most of their characterization, and emoting, is done through various smiles. Odds are good their first and final reaction to something is a smile that Schwab reads way too much into. Wolfish, menacing, with an intangible secret quality, a hint of rebellion, kinda sexy, little odd, and maybe dark if the light is right. It’s like Schwab’s character notes are just pasted into the story. Normally such ideas are developed. Schwab prefers just repeating them.

The dialogue is some version of Ultra Generic ad lib. I had a lot of trouble not glazing over anything contained in quotes. Laughably bad.

Normally, when I read something this bad, I just want to beat the author with their own book. This is pathetically bad. It made me want to scream “THERE ARE COMMUNITY COLLEGES IN YOUR AREA. THEY WILL HAVE BEGINNER WRITING CLASSES. EITHER TAKE THEM OR STOP WRITING.”

This book should have never been written. 

Green, Book Review

I'm more concerned with understanding craft and technique than hashing out if this particular book is worth anyone's time or money. I figure with all the other resources to find the plot or get a sample, it's a subjective and easily controlled decision. That said, the damn thing should still be enjoyable. Here's what I got from Green by Jay Lake. 

Green is a difficult character to like. It’s very easy to be sympathetic to her plight or fears, but she’s the type that can never get out of her own way. The story is told entirely in her own voice, and for better or worse, the author really got lost in the character. Most of the world revolving around Green remains mysterious, though not always detrimentally so, as she obsesses endlessly on her own problems. But the repetition she brings to those issues doesn’t yield a more thorough understanding. Instead of retracing her life, expanding on key moments, Green treats her life as though it were a list. There’s a lot of What but little of Why. It creates an odd disconnect between the reader’s perception of her and how everyone else sees her. I was thrown on the several occasions she’s exiled from her closest friends for reasons she gives little space to recognizing, much less understanding. Similarly, the other characters flit through the narrative, denied any sense of development within Green’s head. Which fits Green’s character remarkably well. Just isn’t so satisfying to read.

The world, the bits that Green will focus and devote some thought too, are well done. Every place and people have a distinct culture. And I don’t mean just broad strokes, like the “maggots” from the North have stone cities and the desert folk lives in tents. A sense of identity and history are as real as the places. Even someone as uninterested as Green can’t ignore the layered intricacies, how each strata of social life has been imagined, from the mundane to the high celebrations. It’s so easy to see a thousand other stories taking place in this world.  

The crux of Green’s struggle is finding individual freedom in a complicated world and retaining some sense of self after a traumatic childhood. The second plays more upon the first as Green clings, desperately, to her past, mistaking childish ignorance with a full identity. It also means, that despite being very well educated, she still thinks in simple, black & white, terms. It leads to eternal disappointment and frustration. Which isn’t totally the fault of Green’s abrasive personality. Her wants are simple and she goes after them with a child’s “well why not just go for it?” common sense. Constantly being slapped down eventually takes a toll, with Green developing (a very adult) ambivalence towards everything except her bells before parlaying that into a death wish. Killing comes fairly easy to her but there’s a high reluctance to use it. Green doesn’t want to be rich, feared, or renowned, just left alone. Normally, I find such qualities in a character tedious on the larger narrative and offensive on principle since I’m attempting to read an entertaining story. But the oppressiveness of authority is so rank in this world, I find myself more sympathetic. There are moments I really wanted her to cut the throat out of every speaking character, even if it wouldn’t fix anything, or make Green feel any better. The inevitable exile seems to indicate Green and I are in synch, emotionally at least. Her steady erosion of sanity is always periphery, which is a shame. It gets to the point Green carries around a wooden bell that reminds her of home and safety as yet another physical attempt to anchor herself mentally. These moments can come across as superficial at first, just a scared girl trying to reclaim heritage or hope or identity. Until the realization dawns she actually doesn’t give a shit about anything else. Her world is just sewing bells to her scarf / dress. Never mind the undead Duke guy. The city can rot. It’s unsettling and funny at the same time.

In the end, I think the first person narration caused more problems than it solved. A lot of the strengths of the novel are given cursory examination while Green’s lifeless voice drones on and on. She’s set up as a witty character but there are few (if any) passages that’ll bring a smile or some fun to the book. I could definitely go for a sequel if it was told in a different way. 

(Image credit to somebody else)

Riddick

I expect more from a comeback movie. After The Chronicles of Riddick, it seemed the character was going to remain a good idea that never got itself together. Riddick (the movie) is a self-described ‘back to basics’ for the series. Offering long-time fans little new to see and new comers no reason to like this generic action hero.

The trailers would have you believe this is all just a retread of Pitch Black. Where Riddick gets caught by mercs but then scary monsters come out at night to kill everything. That’s only true for the third act of the movie. The first two are disappointing for different reasons, though. I won’t spoil those acts but suffice to say, there’s good reason they weren’t featured much in the trailer.

In general, Riddick is too overindulgent. There is zero sense of urgency to the action or characters. Riddick is going to take his damn time finding his animal side. The bounty hunters know Riddick has to come to them so set up camp and wait. And even minor events or details are fully played out as though they were critical the plot. Yet weirdly, this doesn’t extend to the fighting, which is short and unimpressive. Riddick built his reputation on flashy, cool, stunts. He’s given few moments here to really show off.

I’ve always appreciated the Riddick’s series sense of ‘show don’t tell’ style. The major workings of the universe have been left unexplained or unknown, yet clues and bits of conversation drop regularly enough to give a functional understanding. The problem with this new Riddick is not recognizing many of its core elements aren’t unique or fleshed out enough to hold interest. A rag tag bunch of mercenaries can’t support an entire second act because everybody has seen these same guys before. Ditto the snarling aliens. There just isn’t enough new insight into the universe or character. And overall, this storyline is a needless detour. Recycled plot points and an unconvincing notion that Riddick got soft can’t justify another hour and a half on another lifeless, desert planet. 

The Wolverine

I don’t think of Wolverine in terms of how the story played out or how the action came across; I was captivated by how the film imparts the essence of Wolverine to the audience. It has only intermittently come through in other X-Men films. Wolverine is crassly characterized as a rough, violent, man with a short temper. Sure, he pops his claws here, but now it isn’t fetishized. The camera doesn’t zoom-in and follow the claws around while Jackman screams in the background. I think that’s a superficial understanding of the character. More compelling, richer, and more rewarding is the idea that Wolverine represents the apex of fearlessness, confidence, is an utterly self-reliant individual. It’s what makes me excited to see Wolverine doing things other than gutting a faceless thug in half a second.

The scene I keep coming back to and replaying in my mind (doesn’t spoil anything) is where Logan is trekking back into town from the forest with a giant bear keeping pace with him. To read all the details of scene you have to keep swapping perspectives until the two characters are indistinguishable. It’s not a simple statement that Logan is as strong as a bear and cows them with his presence. It’s that they share the same instincts; knowing the bear is assessing Logan and reading that he’s doing the same off Jackman’s face. Seeing how relaxed Logan is in this element, mirroring the naturalness of a bear in a forest. Wolverine is fantastic because it allows moments like this. It isn’t fate of the world crap all the time.

The action itself was too disinterested in showcasing Logan’s talent. The stabbing is always just out of frame. Maybe that’s so the film isn’t just a montage of people getting skewered. Maybe that footage is being saved for the, rumored, R Rated cut to be included on the DVD. I’ve always felt the brutality of Wolverine, quite apart from most other members of the Marvel Universe, distinguished him as someone more grounded, realistic even. Whereas other characters could spout off their moral qualifications and get away with a tame, kid friendly, blast of energy to defeat a foe, Logan had to be intimate. He doesn’t have the option of hiding behind powers. He’s forced to sees their face, feel their bodies give way beneath his claws, to know exactly how they died when he cuts them, ect. That’s the rationale behind the gruff attitude. He’s earned it. The absence hurts the overall understanding of who Wolverine is.

Viper was sensational. Sauntering back and forth between vulnerable and powerful with perfect confidence. Her powers cross from cool to creepy / gross with similar grace. She is assuredly evil, but isn’t comfortably so. At times it’s hard to consolidate her outlandish attire with the tone and setting of the narrative but if she wants to be a crazy, flamboyant, mutant than I’ll let her have it.

Yukio (the one sent to find Logan) has a silly introduction but gets a rebirth in Japan. She, thankfully, doesn’t try to play a “me too” Wolverine, or act as the comic foil to Logan’s acclamation. Wolverine is so good at letting characters just be themselves. Yukio’s character gradually unfolds. I can’t say exactly when or why but after a while I started missing her. She always brought her own something to a scene. It seems an impossible position to manage being Wolverine’s sidekick but she went beyond by fighting for and winning a partnership with him.

Mariko (the love interest) breaths a lot of life into simple gestures. That’s how she supported the quieter moments of the film. It balloons the limited time she and Logan have together into feeling like an honest piece of life.

Logan’s mutation is too often thought of as a commodity. It isn’t helped when Logan sees his berserker self as somehow implanted. As though there is a Weapon X stored in his body. Able to be healed, cured, or removed. No. Logan is Weapon X. That is a legitimate part of Wolverine’s character arc, though. But there can’t be an actual machine to suck the mutation out of Wolverine. Genetics doesn’t work like that. The plot throwing that out in all seriousness just renders an antiquated quality to the proceedings.

It will sound like a backhanded compliment but I’ll say it anyway: except for the story and action, Wolverine was a good movie, almost a great one.  It survives on excellent characters not being preoccupied with the weaker elements of the film.

Killing Them Softly

I’m talking about that most arrogant of self-centered people. The guy who cops a dated style but wears it like he invented it. His whole attitude a transparent grab for attention. And when he talks, every subject leads back to him. Sure, you hate him, everyone does. But there’s a small bit of respect for the conviction put into the whole charade. It being hideous may be part of the intent and definitely part of the charm.

I’m not sure I can call Killing Them Softly a good or bad movie. I can say I couldn’t help but stare and appreciate. The main reason I kept watching was that each character felt whole and independent. Instead of characters moving in to press a theme or plot further along, it felt that the narrative gets waylaid by these people. The audience gets a mini-character study while ideas / concepts trace through them. But the power came from each of these people not caring at all what came before them. It became their movie as soon they got the camera. Really, it was so arresting that had I been told how the whole thing ended, I would have kept watching to see these characters.

As for these ideas / concepts / themes, Killing Them Softly comes out really over-the-top. I cringed at the naked stretch towards “art house”. It screams “I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY”, but then leaves the audience alone after that to supply the “what”. Brad Pit has a fun monologue at the end to summarize the one undeniable message of the piece. You know, in case everything that came before was too subtle for you (it won’t be).It’s tough not to see the willful self-destruction of every character and the demonization of corporate America / corporate culture. The idea is fun to turn over in your head, “organized crime has gone to the dogs”. It reminds me a quote from my father (I don’t know where he got it), that  “___ could screw up a dumpster”.  Citing corporate America as the source of all the nation’s ills isn’t new, but tracing it this far down is. Or like the mobster who robs his own games of poker, there’s this wink Killing Them keeps giving out. How serious / self-aware is the movie? Because robbing your own game of poker that is entirely attended by gangsters is both the most clever and dumbest thing a person could do. It’s a mind-game you play with yourself. (I recognize how stupid that sentence can sound. That’s the point)

It’s way too easy to throw this film out based on a surface understanding. The opening invites it, but then the acting is so good. You can take one glance at that self-absorbed person and know everything, maybe, but for me the idea keeps lingering… Is it a play on expectations or just willful blindness?

This film felt no need to justify itself. It simply did what it wanted. I approve.