Wonder Woman (2017): Mike's Review

A couple (or maybe a few) years ago, I wrote an article for Kate about the Flaws of Wonder Woman as a character. And in many regards I still stand by the points I made. However, I feel that I was struggling to simply state the main problem: that Wonder Woman, as she existed, did not work, and would not work without a major overhaul of some sort. And my concern about that happening came down to two things:

1. After a major overhaul, would she still be Wonder Woman?  
2. Would the fans accept these changes?

And the answer to both, it seems, is a qualified yes. Wonder Woman has recently been changed quite a bit, and people largely seem to be enjoying it.

DC comics continuity has become famous for being something of a patchwork quilt draped over a moving target. The writers and the publishers are continually taking things apart, stitching them back together, and rearranging things in order to appease and attract both new audiences and longtime fans. As a result, DC continuity has seen at least five “reboots” in the last thirty years (Crisis on Multiple Earths, Zero Hour, Infinite Crisis, Flashpoint/New 52, and Rebirth). And in the years since my original post, Wonder Woman has been “overhauled” or “retconned” (a comic term here meaning retro-active continuity) at least three times…. Or two. Again, it’s how you measure it.

The Strazinski reboot that I mention in the previous article attempted to address many of my original points… and was met with hatred and scorn. Then Flashpoint/New 52 happened, and Wonder Woman found herself almost back to normal; but with a few twists, which were met with critical acclaim. Most of these changes were seen in the new movie, which despite my, uh, tangent, is what I’m supposed to be talking about. The film has succeeded in taking both new and old elements of Wonder Woman and fusing them in a way that works. And the current comic version of Diana is not far off from the one we see in the film.

Batman v. Superman

For a movie review, I understand I’m putting forth a lot of background information, but I want readers to understand that I went into this movie with two overriding concerns. The first was that Wonder Woman has traditionally been a difficult character to do well; the second was that despite Wonder Woman’s appearance being the best single moment of Batman v Superman, that film was overwhelmingly terrible. Man of Steel, while not nearly as terrible, still severely misinterpreted Superman and demonstrated the filmmakers' complete misunderstanding of what makes the character tick. And while Suicide Squad was fun, its lack of interior logic or believable motivations, combined with shoehorned world building, did little to reassure me that DC and WB knew what they were doing with their fledgling universe.

Wonder Woman is the savior that DC/WB has been searching for. While far from a perfect film, it avoids many of the pitfalls of previous DCEU films, and sidesteps or merely ignores so many of the things that made Wonder Woman so difficult a character to write.

As a film, WW avoids the dark and heavy tones of the previous DC films, and largely ditches their

Due to her background, it never occurs to Diana not to trust

Etta with her sword.

dark, gloomy and CGI-riddled aesthetics. The film is bright and colorful, genuinely happy and funny at times, and surprisingly moving. Aside from the villains, the characters are well-written and acted, and their motivations are pure and clear. Despite all of this, Wonder Woman’s true success is its treatment of Diana as a character and a hero, and the film’s decision to address the “girl power” aspect by nearly ignoring it altogether. Diana has no chip on her shoulder about being a repressed woman. She’s not out to prove herself to anyone, and frankly wouldn’t even understand why a man might question her abilities. The film uses Diana’s background as strength. She isn’t bothered by sexism, because for her it doesn’t exist. And she’s often able to show her worth before it has a chance to reach her.

That the film is able to do this while still taking place in a time period of reduced woman’s rights is even more extraordinary. I never felt that the film was trying to teach me that woman were equal to men, or preach to me about the evils of sexism. Instead, the film, much like Diana, seemed unaware that these were issues at all. They merely went about the business of telling the story of a hero, gender be damned.

With the introduction of Steve Trevor and his romance with Diana, I was worried about how things would proceed. Diana is essentially this statuesque Greek goddess who comes very close to embodying the male fantasy--a naive virgin eager to learn about the world from the first man she meets. I was a little afraid the movie makers would feel compelled to make Steve the assertive one in the relationship, making Diana submissive, and then try to show this in some sort of love scene.

Their relationship, however, is refreshingly even. They fall in love with each other for their own reasons. Traditional Steve was always kind of a jerk, I felt, kind of cocky. But this Steve is kind and always in awe of Diana. Their eventual love scene is handled with more class and respect than I've seen in a movie in ages (i.e., they don't show it).

I really enjoyed how the film handled Steve Trevor. While he tried to protect Diana at first, he ends up kind of chasing her around trying to talk her out of stuff.... Just to end up watching her do it and then backing her up unconditionally.

There is also an action scene at the midpoint of the movie, in which Diana first fully reveals herself as Wonder Woman, which is hands-down phenomenal. Not only was it everything I wanted from a Wonder Woman movie, it was everything I wanted from a Captain America movie. Wonder Woman’s theme music, an electric guitar and drum driven jungle rock riff, makes an impression as the best superhero theme in decades, and helps drive the action scenes expertly.

As I mentioned, however, the film isn’t perfect. The use and quality of CGI in the film is glaringly inconsistent. While at times it seems to blend beautifully, at others it is so obvious and poorly done it nearly pulled me out of the film. Diana’s powers and abilities, as well as Ares’, were equally inconsistent and ill-defined. While Diana’s new origin as a demi-god is from the comics, her powers of reflecting lightening, making a shock wave, and stopping bullets with some sort of invisible force field are all original to the film, and make little sense when thought about. And while Wonder Woman can fly in the comics, I left the film still unsure if she learned to fly or not. While these powers don’t necessarily bother me, the lack of any explanation does.

After my first viewing, I honestly considered the possibility that Wonder Woman may be the best superhero film I’d seen. However, after some thought I realized I was simply so relieved that the film was decent, and that the character was presented in a way truthful to the spirit of the source material, that I was giving the film a little more credit than it was probably due. In the end, Wonder Woman is a decent, and maybe even great superhero movie. And it may have been the shot in the arm the DC movie universe needed. But the film’s real success is found in its treatment of the main character not as an empowered woman but as a hero and, despite her origins, a human being.

Coming Next: Kate's Review

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses 10 Fundamental Flaws of Wonder Woman

Re-post in preparation for a (mostly) positive review of the latest Wonder Woman movie (2017).

Not too long ago, Kate asked me to recommend some good Wonder Woman stories. As an avid comics fan, I can usually recommend dozens of different comics/graphic novels for either the hard core fan or the interested newcomer. Despite this, Kate caught me at a loss. Perhaps the most surprising thing about my inability to fulfill her request was that I was unaware of it! I believe my answer was "Oh, sure! Umm--" Right about then I realized I was in trouble.

I received a similar response from many comics fan friends. Not only were we unable to think of a defining WW run, none of us even realized it until we were asked. As we looked into the matter further, we found there is no defining WW story. For the most part, she just is, much like background noise in a phone call.

I believe, as Kate has suggested, that WW’s success really stems from the Lynda Carter television show. With a toned-down origin and clever acting, the character resonated with women of the time, enduring to this day. The resemblance of this character to the comics portrayal, however, is minimal. As she exists in the comics, WW has continually failed to be a character that fans can relate to and care about, despite having some very strong writers through the years.

Following are 10 reasons Wonder Woman in the comics has often proved inaccessible to a larger audience. Understand that these are the views of a thirty-something married man who has read comics most of his life and not a sexist teenager flipping through comics for skin and tight costumes.

Speaking of costumes . . .

Lynda Carter and Gal Gadot can pull

off the original costume. Many modern

graphic novels cover her up more.

1. Wonder Woman's costume is impractical.

I know many women protest it because they feel it’s sexist. Many men support it because it’s sexy. I, however, find it completely impractical. First, it’s a glorified swimsuit. While WW is super-powered, her costume should still be designed to provide some sort of protection and cover. If she’s going to bother with boots, surely she feels SOME leg covering is needed? The breastplate itself is metal. If a hero is going to bother with armor, surely she would wear it in more than one place?

Also, the color scheme makes no sense. While this has been explained a thousand different ways, the costume was originally designed to sell comics to patriotic comics fans. But story-wise, no matter HOW you explain it, there is no reason an Amazon warrior from Greek mythology would be wearing the stars and stripes. In addition, WW’s look is not even consistent with what the other Amazons wear in the comics. All of WW’s friends wear armor and Greek-inspired dress. Surely she would too?

2. Wonder Woman lacks an understandable motive.

Wonder Women is a Greek warrior molded from clay, given life by the gods of Greek myth, and raised on an island inhabited by nothing but women. While she has been known to have a private life in "the world of man," she divides most of her time between Themyscira and whatever Justice League headquarters are being used at the time. In other words, WW is completely cut off from mortal men and women and has no relationship or understanding of them. Why would she defend them or risk exposure of her people and the existence of the Greek gods when they have gone to such lengths to be hidden for so long? Especially for a race of beings that WW has every reason to believe is beneath her?

[Original Note from Kate: I think a series devoted to just this problem would be very interesting! Wonder Woman has to decide between isolationism/secrecy and humanity/exposure, between demi-god aristocracy and of-the-people mediocrity/meritocracy. However, it could end with her turning her back on her origins...

New Note from Kate: See upcoming preview.]

3. Wonder Woman lacks connection with humanity.

Likewise, with WW so cut off from humanity and all the cares and concerns of a mortal life, how are everyday fans expected to relate and connect to her? To be fair, some efforts have been made to give WW a secret identity and to involve her in the mortal world, but all these efforts reek of the "new girl in town" mentality and fail to really establish a connection between WW and humanity.

Lyle Waggoner: The most boring superhero's special-someone

in the history of superheroes' special-someones.

Wonder Women has a perfect physique, no need to work or pay the bills, and hangs out with arguably the most perfect and noble men on the planet. The closest thing to children she has is a sidekick (Wonder Girl) who operates almost completely independent of WW. As a reader, there is no "hook," nothing to make me care about the character or relate to her.

[Note from Kate: I argue that one reason Lois & Clark works is that the protagonist's human persona, Clark, is more real and important to him than his superhero persona. Diana Prince as Steve Trevor's lackey is simply a superhero in disguise.]

4. Wonder Woman lacks a good rival.

Wonder Women’s rogues gallery consists of Greek Gods and monsters, magic-powered villains, and totemic-powered individuals (like the Cheetah) who usually have no real reason to be robbing banks, meddling in politics, or really even trying to destroy the world. In fact, many of them share the same distance from humanity that WW herself has. Not only are none of them truly compelling, none of them provide a convincing or emotionally-fueled rivalry with WW.

5. Wonder Woman's combination of powers makes no sense.

Wonder Woman has super-strength, the enhanced senses of animals, nearly invulnerable skin, the ability to fly, and the Aphrodite-given gift of beauty (really). She also has a tiara that can be used as a boomerang-like throwing weapon, indestructible bracelets, and the lasso of truth.

I don’t even know where to start! WW being close to invulnerable would explain the skimpy costume…but if she doesn’t need armor, why does she need the bracelets? The lasso would seem to indicate that WW needs some trick to capture villains, yet she can’t leave them tied up with the lasso (it is gold, after all), and since she’s already beat them with her super strength before tying them up, why would she need a truth spell on men who already know she can kick their ass? I’m at a loss.

Not to mention, the tiara hardly seems like an accessory of someone trying to embody female empowerment.

[Note from Kate: There is a brand of feminism which touts girl-power: pinkness, Barbie, and make-up. However, WW doesn't really belong to this school of thought. Her rather odd creator was somewhat more fascinated with WW's dominatrix skills rather than her Barbie-like attributes. Still, making her a proponent of this brand of feminism would be a possible solution! If it was allowed, that is . . . see Mike's notes under 7 & 8 below.]

6. Wonder Woman’s role in the superhero community is redundant.

Black Widow: Successful Superheroine

She’s not as strong as Superman, Super Girl, or Power Girl, and while she can be a brilliant tactician, Batman still has her beat. Although she does have a connection to magic through the Greek Gods, this is easily rivaled by Captain Marvel (SHAZAM!) or Zatana. Even as the holder of the lasso of truth, questioning prisoners for information is far easier if you just have Martian Manhunter read the villain’s mind. Essentially WW is on the team because she’s been around for a LONG time. Even as the token female on the team, there are dozens of female characters better developed, more powerful, and easier to relate to for fans than WW.

7. Wonder Women is kept from the possibility of a romance.

Most graphic novels that don't pair Wonder Woman with

Steve Trevor pair her with the only man who can actually

literally handle a goddess: Superman.

Writing romantic relationships for Wonder Woman is so fraught with complications, the relationships often end up either jokes or controversy. I get annoyed by the idea that a strong female must either be gay or single. Yet, I also don’t believe that a woman MUST be in a relationship to define herself. However, Wonder Woman's untouchability (as both a hero and an icon) has so politically charged her love life, there is no possible relationship that would not end with fans marching on DC Comics’ headquarters. Consequently, WW is often without a romantic interest, robbing her of yet another thing that would provide depth and humanity to the character.

8. Wonder Woman isn't allowed to change.

tremary.deviantart.com

While DC Comics and most writers understand that Wonder Woman is flawed, the fans fight any suggestion of change. Changes need to be made, but die-hard fans become defensive at the slightest alteration and often lash out so strongly that any long term changes to the character are usually reversed within a year or less. In the last five years, Wonder Woman has been blind, worn a cape and a sword, become a secret agent in her free time, murdered a super-villain on live television, and lost her powers and role of Wonder Woman. Yet all of these plot points were soon reversed, bringing WW back to her traditional status quo.

9. Wonder Woman can never escape being Wonder Woman.

The idea of Wonder Woman proving herself to be just as good as men continually affects the quality of her books. The extent to which this issue is explored varies with the writer. However, if a writer chooses to tone down the issue, he or she draws attention to the fact, often with a line like "Oh, I don’t have to prove I’m as good as you guys. I’m worried about doing my job!" which is still a very verbal political statement about the argument! There’s no way to escape it; it’s tied to the character.

10. Ultimately, Wonder Woman's is a mass of contradictions.

She is a well-endowed, beautiful princess who runs around in a swimsuit (that barely fits her), yet the character [or some of her fans] resents the derogatory idea of being viewed as a sex symbol. She is an Amazonian Warrior that actively fights crime, sometimes with a sword, even going so far as to kill, yet she is on a mission of peace to humanity (a humanity that she has little to nothing to do with). She is a model of female empowerment in an industry where the majority of the customer base is men. She was sent to protect and care for man, yet she does not trust mankind and has little to no interaction with the everyday person. She is presented as an American Icon, wearing the red, white, and blue, yet she was raised in a religious and political culture bearing no resemblance to the American system or its religious roots as "one nation under God." Ultimately, Wonder Woman has no consistent or relevant reason for existing, no mission statement that guides the character.

While any of these reasons alone would signal trouble for a character, combined they form a picture of an outdated and poorly constructed character that is so far removed from its readers that no real bond of affection can be formed. There is, however, some good news.

Hope for Wonder Woman

In recent months, the Wonder Woman franchise has been handed to J. Michael Straczynski, the writer of Babylon 5 and the mind behind the recent comeback of Thor as well as a hugely successful Spiderman run that ran for several years. Whenever Starczynski is handed a project, his trademark is moving the character into the present, using classic and new elements to create something accessible to everyone. His Thor run is a perfect example of how well he can pull this off.

With Wonder Woman, he had A LOT of work to do. And while the public is still reeling from many of the changes, which are drastic, I can tell you the changes have addressed nearly every concern listed above. In the New Wonder Women series, time has been altered and Paradise Island has been destroyed. Diana (Wonder Woman) has been raised by refugees of the Amazon culture in the underbelly of New York. WW has become a street-wise warrior, searching to fulfill her destiny to save her people and defeat the evil that has changed her world.

My hope is that these changes will be long lasting, avoiding the normal cycle of changing things up and returning back to status quo. Wonder Woman needed some serious retooling, and it seems that it has finally happened. Here’s hoping it lasts.

Guest Blogger: Mike Reviews the Latest Star Wars

Let’s be honest. As a Star Wars fan, I’ve been hurt before. When the Prequels first appeared, I was as happy as everyone else, and I clung to the fantasy that those movies were good perhaps a little longer than other people. Soon, however, reality snuck up, and with Episode 3, I had to admit that Lucas had, in fact, let us down.

And so, I rejoiced when George finally decided to hand over the rights. Finally! We had a chance at redemption! The inclusion of JJ Abrams was also a positive. I’ve been an on and off fan of his as well. If JJ could rein in some of his tendencies, then we might just have a chance. (For the unaware, JJ Abrams loves mysteries . . . but he doesn’t like solving them or explaining them; as a result, many of his revelations are either absent or disappointing).

But then word started to leak. Sure, the old cast would be back, but so would the Empire. And the Rebellion. And, oh yeah, peace hasn’t come to the galaxy. This worried me, because more than anything else in the original series, the thing I loved the most was the happy ending. The bad guys were beaten, the heroes had found love or closure, and some characters even found redemption. It was perfect (well, perfect enough).

The Star Wars kid in all of us.

With this stark news, I couldn’t get excited. I refused. I was a tense, angry, frustrated fan that was still going to see it opening day . . . but there was no way I would be fooled again. I drew a line in the sand and swore that if the new movie crossed it, I would reject it and storm out of the theater. Some friends pointed out that I might be going about things the wrong way. And they were probably right.

Regardless, opening day I was there with my son. The opening scroll started, and I was a kid again, against my will. And to my surprise, I found myself happily laughing, clapping, and even cheering along with the film. As the film wound towards the final scenes, I found myself loving it dearly. But then . . . something happened.

It’s been months, so chances are you already know what happened. But just in case, SPOILERS lie ahead, young Padawan.

*SPOILER ALERT*

One of Star Wars' many Prerequisite Bottomless Pits

Throughout the film we discover that the new villain, a whiny emo clone of Darth Vader (who is oddly fun to watch), is actually the son of heroes Han and Leia. As the heroes rush towards the final battle, Han decides to try and save his son with an ill-advised heart to heart on a narrow bridge over the prerequisite bottomless pit. Things don’t go as planned, however, and the almost touching moment ends with Han being stabbed through the heart with a light-saber and then dropping into the conveniently located pit below.

I was mortified. This film, which had so skillfully coaxed out the young and exuberant Star Wars fan inside this man, suddenly, ruthlessly and traumatically murdered his childhood hero before his eyes. It’s like getting a beautifully wrapped present on your birthday just to find a decapitated head inside. My son was equally horrified. I was numb throughout the rest of the movie. Sure, there were some cool moments; I vaguely remember a light-saber fight, a big celebratory ending, and even some swelling music at some point. But my mind kept going back to that one horrifying moment, as Han tried to connect with his son, just to get a badly designed light-saber in the chest for his trouble.

The rest of the movie was a dull, emotionless blur for me. I was devastated, horrified, and angry. This wasn’t how Han decided to go out. He was a hero, dammit! He had earned a happy ending! At very least, as a rogue, hero, and true friend, he deserved to go out in a blaze of glory defending his friends: a kamikaze run for the ages. Instead we get a badly lit lifetime moment followed by millions of Star Wars fans crying out.

It’s hard to get past this moment. I’ve seen the film 3 times now, and all in all, I think my feelings for it lean positive. I like the new characters, though their pasts are all shrouded in Abrams' usual fog of mystery. The existence, motivations, and even structure of the villain is shady and unclear as is the need for the new rebellion. I’m confused why the galaxy would need a non-government run “Resistance” to fight what appears to be a rogue terrorist group. Rey, the new main character, is strong and compelling though it’s hard to imagine that the answers to her past will be as interesting as the mystery itself.

Abrams and THE star of Star Wars

The return of practical effects was welcome, and the return of old characters was wonderful. The film, on the whole, is a love letter to the old films. It’s when Abrams tries to move the Star Wars universe toward his vision that the movie struggles; not so much that his vision betrays the old films, but in that this new direction lacks the logic, reasoning, and emotion that served as foundation of the original trilogy.

In the end, it’s the death of Han and the method in which the film chose to do it that feels the most out of place. While I feel I understand the choices and what function the event serves in the story, the method in which it was carried out felt excessive and cruel. The film was looking for a shocking moment to sell it, and it found one; unfortunately, it may have lost some of the more sensitive fans along the way.

So, if you’re looking for a fun romp in the Star Wars universe, the new film may just be for you. But if the happy ending of Jedi means anything to you, you might want to stop there.

You can read more reviews by Mike (and about Star Wars) here. 

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses Laying the Bait--The Disconnect Between Movies and Trailers

A couple years ago, I caught wind of an announcement of what I suspected was a very bad idea: Fox had decided to remake--or in modern terms, “reboot”--the Spider-man franchise. While the first two movies had been pretty successful and pretty well received by comic fans such as myself (fans, I should point out, just entering the Geek Golden Age), the third movie was something of a disaster. While it made money, the movie was panned critically (especially by fans, who took the movie, as a whole, as a personal insult), threatening to end the franchise.

Sensing there was still money buried in the franchise, Fox followed the lead of two recent superhero franchises that had started from scratch: Batman Begins and The Incredible Hulk. Hoping to appeal to the sore and angry fans (who get far more service than they probably deserve), the studio decided to rename the franchise, going with the traditional adjective-toting title of the comics.

And thus, The Amazing Spider-man was made and has been widely advertised for nearly a year with footage, clips, TV spots, and trailers. While many fans feared a rehash of the story seen in the Raimi movies, the new director, writers, and actors of the reboot all promised a take on Peter Parker’s origin story that explored the disappearance and death of his parents.

The second trailer from the film sells the new premise with vigor. The two minute preview features several clips from the film that not only emphasize Peter’s search for answers regarding his parents but the villain’s ability to grant these answers. Featuring such phrases as “If you want the truth about your parents, Peter, come and get it,” and “Do you think this was an accident, Peter?” the trailer aims to reduce nearly every comic geek who sees it into a driveling, drooling pile of excitement.

That the trailer nearly succeeds is saying a lot, especially considering the general pessimism that most fans felt towards the reboot (and, yes, I was among them). No comic fan can resist the promise of revealed secrets and hidden histories. The trailers promised this and more.

(Beware: mild spoilers ahead!)
 
The only trouble is, when the film was released, those of us who were successfully tempted into seeing the film for these reasons came away completely empty-handed.

Despite my fears and pessimism, I did see the film. And while the purpose of this writing is NOT to present a review, I will say that I found it satisfying on some levels, though it never reached the level of the originals (even considering how dated they feel to me these days) though it does rehash earlier ideas.

The biggest disappointment of the movie, however, is not the quality or even the inevitable revisiting of many plot points from the original films. The main disappointment is the film’s failure to explore the mystery promised in the previews. In fact, many of the scenes and lines featured in the trailer, all of which addressed the mystery directly, are missing from the theatrical release altogether.

While this is certainly disappointing, the sad reality is that modern previews and trailers do this ALL THE TIME. While there have been some famous missing scenes in the past (Twister has long been mocked for a scene of a flying tire hitting a windshield that was seen in the trailer but not the film), the last several years have seen an increase of these incidents.

Even Avengers, the only summer release I’ve seen this year that wasn’t a disappointment, featured a couple trailer moments that were either cut from the film or replaced by a different take (the “billionaire playboy philanthropist” line being the most notable replaced scene).

While many will argue that this is par for the course for Hollywood, I feel it’s a genuine problem.

I am a movie news junkie. I have several websites that I visit several times a day, eagerly scoping for news on upcoming films, new scenes, and trailers. And Hollywood, in its goal to make money, desperately tries to appease me. The fear, however, is that while we fans love these tastes, no one will want to watch the final product (which we've mostly seen through bits and pieces by the time it comes out). As a result, studios are being put in a difficult position by their customers. We movie fans may partly have ourselves to blame when studios oversell a film.

Partly to blame. Studios aren't just overselling; they are making false promises to their audience, and we as consumers shouldn’t just accept that. A couple years ago, the film Drive was sued by consumers, claiming false advertising, as the trailers of the film made what was a slow, violent drama seem like an action-oriented Fast and the Furious rip-off.

While a lawsuit may seem a bit melodramatic, this needs to happen more often. A piece of art (which, despite some strong arguments to the contrary, I still believe film to be) should be sold on its own merits, not for what it pretends to be. If a studio suspects that a film is not what an audience wants, it will advertise the film as the desired product rather than change the film itself. I’m all for artistic integrity; money or not, studios should deliver the product they promised!

The sad truth is that things probably won’t change. The “bait and switch” is an age old concept of sales and trade and will be a part of humanity for a long time to come. But when untruth is prevalent, it’s hard to take pleasure in much of anything, especially those things we SHOULD enjoy, like a trip to the movies. I’m not giving up yet, but if The Dark Knight Rises turns out to be a romantic comedy, my next stop will be the library.

Mike can be reached at his Facebook page and at the Mike-Kate Video Club.

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses The Problem With Comic Books

When first introduced to comic books, I fell in love when Marvel Comics. The series that hooked me was called "What If?" It always explored a variation on the events that had transpired in the Marvel Universe. Story-lines, such as "What if the Avengers had fought Galactus?" or "What if Wolverine became Lord of the Vampires?" were regularly explored and followed to an often tragic end. What thrilled me about these comics was how they played with an established, concrete history. I didn’t know it at the time, but what I really loved about the Marvel Universe was its incredible sense of continuity.

You would often see a character from another comic passing someone like Peter Parker or Tony Stark on the sidewalk. A little footnote below would exclaim "What is the Human Torch doing in Queens? Check out this month’s Fantastic Four for the scoop!" These characters lived in a connected world. Often a character would not be present in the book he guest-starred in because he was busy in his own comic or off teaming up with another hero. The writers seemed to realize and care about continuity, about what was happening, and when, in the world of Marvel Comics. And I was an addict.

In the last few years, this has all changed. The current head of Marvel Comics, who was hired around 10 years ago now, issued a new decree for the formerly continuity- heavy Marvel Comics: "Continuity can be ignored for the purpose of a good story." It was, for Marvel at least, a revolutionary concept. Suddenly, Spider-Man and Wolverine were EVERYWHERE. The problem is that while it worked for sales, the overall quality of the writing suffered once continuity was no longer respected. "A good story" seemed to be confused for "A story that sells like hotcakes."

Along with this sudden freedom, the comic industry also learned something evil. They realized that any time they changed the status quo, their sales picked up. Phrases like "The end of an Era!" or "The beginning of a new legacy!" began gracing the covers of more and more comics. You had Team and Roster changes, heroes donning new names and costumes, heroes dying in big, publicized events and then returning, triumphantly resurrected, having fought their way back from the grave to defend their homes. These days, heroes die all the time, and their resurrection may only be months hence.

When Captain America died a few years ago, it was a pretty big deal. The entire Marvel Universe was shaken, with every hero talking about it, going to the funeral, and dealing with the reality of emotional loss. There was an incredible mini-series published at the time--Fallen Son: The Death of Captain America--which shows different heroes, such as Iron Man, Spider-Man, and Wolverine, each dealing with a different aspect of the grieving process. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance are explored in a single issue, and it’s truly an emotional and moving book.

About a year after Cap’s death, Thor used his great power to summon the spirit of Steve Rogers and visit with him. Moved by the Captain’s sadness at the use of his death for political agendas, Thor flies into high orbit, and uses lightning to silence every satellite broadcasting coverage of the anniversary of Cap’s death for one minute. One full minute of peace for his fallen friend. Again, the story was emotionally fulfilling and moving. It brought real weight to events of a fictional world. These comics not only made me miss the Captain, but also truly appreciate what the world had become after his loss.

And then, they brought him back. "Cap isn’t dead!" they told us. "He was just lost in time! See his return in the new mini-series, 'Captain America Reborn!'"

And suddenly, those wonderful, emotionally moving, and incredibly well-written books reflecting the death of Captain America lost all significance. They were rendered obsolete. Why would someone read a reflective piece on the life and death of an individual that’s still alive?

Death in comics has become a revolving door that nearly every character will pass through, disappearing for a short time before returning completely unscathed. It’s hard for a reader such as myself to really care much these days when a traumatic event comes to pass for a beloved character. They died? Aw, they’ll be back in a few months. No big deal. The most glaring example of just how bad things are in the world of comics is that even Spider-Man’s Aunt May and Batman’s butler Alfred have both died and returned. Let’s consider this. Aunt May. Really.

I think the main problem is this: If an event has no lasting impact on the life of a character, then it is of no importance to the reader either. Continuity must not only exist, it must be respected. If an event takes place, its consequences must be real and lasting. When you remove the consequences, you remove the meaning of the event.

For continuity to truly work, and for the life, adventures, and tragedies of a character to truly matter, there must be a clear beginning, middle, and end. Not only must the end be clearly defined in relationship to events,  it must be defined in time as well. When that cycle comes to an end, you can begin another. Maybe it’s a new character; perhaps it’s the child of the hero. But the life of a fictional character, especially that of a comic character, cannot continue indefinitely as it has in the past and have any credibility or structural stability.

One of my favorite comic runs in the last few years was Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men. Completely free of the continuity of the X-Men comics that were being printed at the time, Whedon's comic explored a wonderful story that touched on many classic moments of the X-Men’s past. The series, while amazing, exemplifies both the problem and the solution to Marvel's continuity chaos. The series did rely on the pasts of the X-Men featured, but while there was a clear beginning, middle and end,  it did not have a clear place in the overall continuity of the X-Men timeline.

Furthermore, while the comic featured emotional growth for many of the characters, some events were spoiled by story-line ramifications appearing in other comics published before those events happened in the main series. Many events featured in the series, such as a long awaited relationship between two characters and the "death" of a hero, have since been undone; the relationship ended, the dead resurrected. Again. Perhaps most problematic is that the series actually featured the resurrection of a long missing character. (However, the character had been out of print for some time, and his resurrection did not undo what his death had accomplished.)

Unfortunately, when continuity does appear in the Marvel Universe these days, it has no real weight. Sure, if it will help sell a comic; a hero might cross over into the big company-wide story. But often, events are written and then ignored or undone according to what the sales figures dictate.

Any event that happens in the life of a character must be true to what he has experienced before and effect what he does in the future. The story must be the most important consideration. What does this story say? What did the character learn? How did he learn or grow? Once the sales of a series outweigh the importance of the story itself, the reader suffers, and the work suffers. Strong characters deserve not only strong stories, but a strong history and complete timeline. Without these things, comics will continue as literary garbage heaps, continually piling and piling yp until the audience is drowned in useless waste.

It’s time for Marvel Comics to change. And not just another reboot like DC’s "New 52" that graced shelves in the last couple months. Restarting continuity from scratch may resolve past problems, but it will still leave writers open to future problems. Soon this new, fresh slate will become as muddled and confusing as it was before. The future of comics, and other continuity-based entertainment, lies not in it's perpetuity, but rather in its end. By introducing complete character timelines (ending with death/retirement), and perhaps redesigning each story arc to function as its own graphic novel, the integrity of the characters and the stories being told would be strengthened and reinvigorated. Instead of following a character doing the same thing over and over for years without end, future comic readers can have complete epics featuring heroes whose lives are worth caring about, remembering, and, who knows, inspiring others.

Guest Blogger: The Finale of Smallville

Mike writes about the finale of Smallville:

I just watched the Smallville finale (despite not seeing any episode of the entire current season). It was . . . okay. (Lois and Clark ALMOST get married; the wedding is interrupted by evil, of course). Yet, somehow, with ten years to prepare, the ending still felt rushed. The two hours spent so much time wrapping up different relationships (talk talk talk) that the "Big Fight" at the end was compressed into 30 seconds that you don't even really get to see!

One things that bugs me about shows with continuity is how often the budget hinders the quality, and the quality thus affects the storytelling. For instance, it would have made sense for many of the people Clark Kent helped, loved, and worked with through the years to attend his wedding. Instead, presumably due to budget, the entire attendance of the wedding is made up of extras. Only six actors in the chapel are familiar to the viewer, and TWO of them are the wedding couple!

And while there are a few great guest appearances (the returns of Lex, Lionel, and Jonathan Kent are all great), many other people would have been logical additions. Any of the dozens of heroes Clark has met are really missed.

Perhaps the most embarrassing budget-inspired cheat is the suit. Introduced at the end of last year, the Superman suit was "borrowed" from Superman Returns. (I understand it was used mostly as a set piece over the past two seasons). While Clark officially dons it in the finale, it seems that Tom Welling doesn't. This is only speculation, but it seems the producers didn't want to make a new suit for the episode (movie suits cost THOUSANDS), and since Tom Welling didn't fit the one used for the movie, well . . . they faked it: back shots of a computer-animated Superman and close-up head shot with a CGI cape behind. No actual full body Superman shot. I felt bad for poor Tom.

The finale does finally allow Clark to fly but the moment feels . . . rushed. Almost like an after thought.

Another thing that bugged me, although I appreciated the attempt, is how the finale made a point of finishing the storyline but then chickened out on several things in order to please the "die hard fans" of Superman. For instance, the shows ends 7 years in the future with Lois and Clark only then deciding to reattempt marriage. Lex, resurrected and fully aware of Clark and his powers, conveniently gets his memory erased.

Despite both Superman and Smallville fans, one of the funniest things is just how little background knowledge the finale needed. I've only seen half of season 9 and nothing of 10, and the two minute summary before the episode was enough to fill me in. This highlights perhaps my biggest complaint about Smallville: The sheer amount of time the show wasted treading water instead of moving forward. It's infuriating! The writers never seemed to understand the slow growth of plot and development. Instead the show was a series of starts and stops. It would move forward a bit, then stop and drag its feet, afraid to move too quickly to the ending everyone was waiting TEN years for.

Smallville decided to go its own way retelling a lot of Superman history, but it even waffled staying true to that! In the end, I'm kinda glad the show is finally over; it could have ended a LONG time ago.

Guest Blogger: Gummi Bears Remembered

Arriving home late from work the other day, I walked in my door and saw something that warmed the winter chill. My son, Benji, was sitting still (a rarity!) staring intently at the television. And coming from the speakers was one of the most cherished sounds of my childhood; and it wasn’t the theme of Star Wars! I had to grin as I watched my son totally hypnotized by the favorite cartoon of my youth, giggling as the Gummi Bears bounced here and there and everywhere.

Disney’s Adventures of The Gummi Bears (VERY loosely based on the candy) was responsible for the Disney television carton boom of the late eighties and early nineties. With its success, Disney launched several franchises based on their established characters, including Tailspin (Jungle book), Duck Tails (Donald Duck’s family), Chip & Dale’s Rescue Rangers, Darkwing Duck (Ducktails spin-off), Goof Troop (Goofy), and many others. It’s amazing that the genesis of this boom was also the only show not based on a previous property.

Gummi Bears tells the story of the small remnant of a once great civilization of bears possessed of advanced technology and magical knowledge. Jealous of the Gummis, humanity chases the bears from their lands, banishing them to the islands of the sea. Some stay behind to watch and observe, but as time goes by, the descendants of these survivors forget many secrets of Gummi history. Deciding to rediscover Gummi history, the group of bears begins a quest of knowledge. A pretty impressive plot for a kid’s show!

I don’t remember my first exposure to Gummi Bears, but I do remember that I loved it. The mystery of a magical past, ancient tunnels and devices, secret rooms and passages: I lived for that stuff. Gummi Bears had such a rich back story, it made for wonderful storytelling and presented some really unique and new ideas. Based in a fantasy setting, but with real sci-fi elements, Gummi Bears was the perfect chew toy for a teething Geek. All the great stereotypes and elements were there: monsters, a ruthless (though stupid) bad guy, magic, knights, ancient technology of a lost civilization, and a super cool secret base for the heroes.

Above all though, the Gummis were a family and a group of heroes. They fought to save the local humans constantly, and befriended several. Each Gummi had a distinct personality, and all served their roles. While the 80’s did have their influence, Gummi Bears was a strong, well-written, and extremely positive cartoon, especially for its time.

When I saw it on DVD a few years ago, I grabbed it purely out of nostalgia. When I rewatched it, I realized that I apparently had really great taste as a kid because the show was just as good as I remembered. So to see my son watching it now, absolutely transfixed, despite the technology and highly refined shows of today, made me want to leap with joy. Sure, every parent wants to share their interests and loves with their children, but for me, this was something more.

Gummi Bears is one of those truly wonderful relics from my youth, and I believe one of the most influential. Gummi Bears taught me that imagination was powerful, each individual was special, and the past is a fantastic source of knowledge. It was my gateway to a world of imagination and wonder that has held me captive to this very day. While there are parts of my life I’d never wish on my son (such as being a geek in high school… brrrr), I’m excited for him at the same time. He’s discovering something precious, and he’s in a place where he can savor it. And, he’s getting it from a source that I trust and return to every so often myself.

--Mike Cherniske

Guest Blogger: Mike Discusses Westerns Re-Imagined

Recently, probably after watching the new 3:10 to Yuma, I became kinda/sorta obsessed with Westerns.  As a kid I found them long and boring, and my tolerance for older looking movies was even lower than it is now.  But now that I'm older, I find I appreciate the slower pace and the greater importance of character in the story.  In a Western, nearly EVERYTHING is character driven--which is really cool after the last few years of big budget special effect juggernaut movies.

In the last couple of months, I've broadened my experience with Westerns, and I've realized something I never really knew: I've always loved Westerns. Some of my favorite movies, books, comics, and even the odd video game or two, are Westerns.  They’ve just been disguised so well you would never know.  

The Western isn't dead--it has adapted. The "Old West" doesn't exist anymore, so the Western now looks either back or forward.  And forward, especially in post-apocalyptic settings, is where the ground is most fertile. 

Here are five movies you might never suspect of being Westerns:

Serenity:  Based on Joss Whedon’s Firefly, Serenity was written and shot as a Western in space.  One can be distracted by the very prevalent sci-fi elements.   Despite these elements, Serenity would not be a very different movie if you removed them completely. 

Many of the Western staples are there: the ruthless man for hire, the out-of-place big city doctor, and the spiritually disillusioned Civil War veteran (who served on the losing side, of course).  The costumes are VERY Western as is the choice of weaponry: bullet-shooting guns (charmingly reminiscent of the Old West) instead of blasters or lasers.  The television series went out of its way to create Western scenery and situations with set design and costumes so accurate, if you watch a few minutes at a time, you’d have no idea there was a spaceship parked out back.

Serenity, however, did put the sci-fi first, bringing together all the action and adventure that such a movie can offer. But that didn’t stop the crew of Serenity starting the movie with an old-fashioned bank heist. The theme of the movie itself also works on both the Western and sci-fi levels: Freedom. Freedom to live, to work, to exist without being controlled, or monitored, which was the point of the Old West after all. 

Kill Bill Vol. 2: The second and final part of what is in reality a four hour movie, Vol. 2 shares a little more backstory of the Bride, revealing her training, her name, the moment her friends betrayed her, and her final confrontation with Bill. 

While the first movie is a bloody, violent homage to samurai movies, Vol. 2 is a tribute to Spaghetti Westerns, even sporting music reminiscent of the “Dollars Trilogy.”  Most of the dialog and plot of the bigger story is contained in this second part, helping to create a slower-paced, more character-driven story. 

The Bride is your classic “man with no name” character, back seemingly from the dead to have her revenge.  She must hunt down and kill each member of her old crew, and each confrontation is memorable and wonderfully paid off.  The movie even moves the action to Western locales with the Bride visiting El Paso and Mexico. The musical moments, I think, are the biggest element stolen from Spaghetti Westerns:  the long pause in action and dialog as two characters stare one another down with the music delivering the lines of word and emotion.  Powerful stuff.   Add to that David Carradine playing Bill, and well, you’ve got an amazing movie.

Harry Brown: Starring the wonderful Michael Caine, Harry Brown is the story of a retired veteran living in a gang-controlled neighborhood.  When his best friend is killed senselessly, Harry decides that someone has to make a stand. The tension in this movie gets so thick at times, you can barely see the screen.  As Harry slowly begins to bring justice to the streets, you see a man acting out of desperation.  The authorities can’t, or won’t, help, so Harry must do it himself.

A dangerous man out for justice may seem obvious for a Western but put him into a British slum, and you’ll understand why people might not catch on at first.

Book of Eli:  A post-apocalyptic road film, Eli stars Denzel Washington as an enigmatic traveller with a mission and a sacred book.  When he ventures into a small town run by the ego-maniacal Gary Oldman, Eli’s book makes him a hunted man.

The setting of this movie--the stark, barren desert of a war-torn country--creates a tone and atmosphere that SCREAMS Western.  The main characters are all takes on classic Westerns motifs, and Eli’s mission and the focus on faith all work as Western themes.   Not only a great movie, Book of Eli is a great Western. It’s even got a shoot out!

Water World: The most expensive movie ever made, until Titanic that is, Waterworld is about another post-apocalyptic world, this time covered in, well, water.  The hero, played by Kevin Costner, is again nameless.  Happily living on his own, the trouble starts when the hero ventures into a small town.  Soon he’s on a quest to find the last piece of dry land on the planet, all the while fighting hungry scavengers for the key to finding it: a tattooed little girl.

Waterworld again explores Western ideas in a sci-fi setting:  the wickedness of civilization, the fear of people living on the frontier, and one very pissed off and dangerous hero working to save his friend.   

Summary

I think I love Westerns because the main character is so vital to the story.  All of the movies above feature a very strong, silent hero that must fight the world to make a difference.  While the hero's moral standing might be a little ambiguous, the hero fights for what he feels is right, even if the law doesn’t agree.  Sparks fly when the hero faces a villain who also believes he is right: that’s the main draw Westerns have for me.

Guest Review: Mike Cherniske Takes On The Last Airbender

M. Night Shyamalan’s The Last Airbender was so badly made, I find myself sitting here at the computer at 12:15 a.m., a full 3 days after seeing it, in an attempt to bring some sense of closure to what may have been the most disappointing movie experience of my life.

Now, there are some movies adapted from shows or comics that, while poor, are still worth a hoot or two and worth collecting--if only to show to my kids one day, so we can laugh at them together (I’m looking at you, Ghost Rider). Airbender, however, is something best forgotten. It is so bad, in fact, I’m predicting $5 movie bin within one year of this date.

To be honest, I am a fan of the cartoon upon which the movie is based. However, in the past, I also considered myself a fan of Shyamalan’s work (though now, sadly, ONLY in the past). So, while it is possible that my opinion is influenced by my affection for the cartoon, I consider the movie just as much a disappointment for any fan of Shyamalan.

In reality, Airbender failed in four major areas, three of which are crucial in ANY film: acting/direction, writing/dialog, writing/story, plus respect for the source material. Though the source material handling was an issue, the rest of the movie elements (found in every movie) were handled so poorly that nearly any movie viewer would be disappointed.

Acting/Direction--While the delivery of a line is really up to an actor, the director is the one who tells the actor what kind of a performance he wants. While the child actor who played Aang, err, “Ong” (more on this later) was trying his best, his performance was stilted, disjointed, and very wooden. At one point, after a very badly delivered line, I turned to my friend and declared “Wow, sure was lucky he had the script page right there to read off of!”

While I wish this young newcomer was the only example, in truth the entire cast suffered from the same problems. The actor who played Zuko gave what was perhaps the strongest performance. However, the poor boy is so lop-sided and wide-eyed throughout the movie that he looks just plain silly and comes across as just short of ridiculous.

Furthermore, the fights, while occasionally visually impressive, are often slow and labored to the point that Han Solo could wander in, shoot both combatants, and wander out before the first punch is thrown. Consequently, the audience feels no concern, no sense of danger, for the characters. Not only do the characters talk funny, but they fight so slow, they could just lazily dodge the next blow!

Writing/Dialog--While the acting was terrible, especially in line delivery, the truth was that very few actors, if any, could overcome the vast problems with the script. While watching the movie, I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of words and dialog repeated by numerous characters only minutes from each other. Characters would awkwardly fit in plot summaries, repeat what was just said to them, and recite long factual statements at the most awkward of times. One frightening example follows:

General: “We do not need to worry about the ocean and moon spirits.”
Uncle Iroh: “Why do we not need to worry about the ocean and moon spirits?”
General: “I have found a way to neutralize the ocean and moon spirits.”

Really and truly. How I wish I was exaggerating. I have read a few reviews to see if anyone agrees with me and have been surprised at the sheer number of people who feel the same way. One critic described the dialog in a way I had also considered: it was as though the script had been translated into Japanese and back into English, creating the feel of a badly dubbed Godzilla movie. And he couldn’t be more right; that’s exactly how it feels. The most frightening part of this realization is the thought that perhaps the dialog was not an accident of an inept writer but rather a stylistic choice! [Kate, who hasn't seen the movie but has seen most of Shyamalan's films, thinks this probable. See her comment below.] The mere idea is ludicrous but after watching the movie, one has to wonder if a person could create something so horrifically terrible by mere accident.

Surely M. Night saw the dialog wasn’t working! Why didn’t he change it!?!?!?!

Writing/Story--The story of Aang is an epic tale that stretches over three seasons. While there is a lot of story there, there are also a lot of stand-alone episodes and mini-arcs that, while they add character development and background to the world, have little impact on the main storyline and outcome of that story. And so, in theory, one could shave off a lot of the “fat” from the series and come up with a much tighter story.

While it seems that M. Night tried to do this to a point, he messed it up something awful. Instead of trying to link key events from the seasons together into a cohesive whole, the director (referred to hereafter as “Sir Stupid Head”) tried his best to summarize the entire season in the first 2/3rds of the movie. And the movie was only 90 minutes long! As a result, some stuff didn’t make it in. The most surprising part was what hit the cutting room floor. Sir Stupid Head has confirmed that the kyoshi warriors were filmed but were cut. It’s heartbreaking to think of what other major things also went missing in order to fit the film into such a short running time. Though one has to wonder if making this movie any longer would have done anyone any good.

Because of the vastness of the material covered, the movie zips along at an absolutely insane pace, taking a break for badly timed flashbacks and monologues. The movie moves so fast, in fact, that major parts of any successful movie, such as character moments, character development, and bonding moments, are completely abandoned. The movie moves so fast, in fact, that no one thinks to wonder why the characters don’t learn each others' names until they have already traveled THOUSANDS of miles together! Seriously, watch the movie. The trio leaves the South Pole, travels to Aang’s home temple (which seems to be in India), waiting till they are there to learn each others' names! Without character building moments, the audience cannot connect with the characters, and thus does not care what their eventual fate is!

While some treasured moments from the show do make it into the movie, like the blue spirit, they are inserted with almost no structure or explanation, so much so that newcomers to the mythology will be completely confused by the events. While fan service is appreciated, you simply cannot portray an event in which a main antagonist behaves against his character without explaining how he did it (How did the prince learn that Aang was captured?!?!) and why he did it (Wait, doesn’t he want him captured?!?!? Why is he helping him escape?).

Respect for the source material--Sir Stupid Head, in several interviews, stated that the movie was an opportunity to correct mistakes in the show and insert “deeper ideas” into a big budget picture. Unfortunately, for an ADAPTATION, correcting the “mistakes” of the source material will not be seen as a favor, only tampering by a self-indulgent, egotistical narcissist. For example, the aforementioned “ONG” as opposed to the show’s “Ayng.” Sir Stupid Head cites that it is impossible for an Asian to pronounce the name AANG as “ayng” with that spelling . . . completely forgetting the fact that the source material is a SHOW, not a novel!!!! As I was sitting in the theater, you could hear a slow groan from every audience member when the narrator first said, “Ong”.

I understand that for the source material to be adapted, some things had to change. I even agree with some of the changes. I felt the way Zuko’s origin story was worked in was very clever, however badly shoe-horned into place. But other changes, such as changes to the rules and mechanics of the world, were just mind-numbingly stupid.

The most blatant of these changes was the bending, which was altered in two major ways. First off, the movie changed the rules of fire bending, so benders needed a source of fire. This is a change that affected some major plot points; if Zuko couldn’t make his own fire, how did he melt the ice that encased him, or the ice covering where he was swimming? While I do understand the thought--to put fire benders on the same playing field as everyone else--by doing so, the movie removed the thing that made the fire benders so powerful and so frightening: they could create their own fire! It burned from within! By removing this characteristic, the movie also removed the one major aspect that allows the viewer to believe that the fire nation has the power to dominate the entire world!

The second big change to bending was the process itself: instead of the elements bending to the will and movements of the characters, the benders had to perform a long series of perfectly executed steps to get the slightest reaction from the element. It reminded me of performing a finishing move on Mortal Kombat! Because of this, the bending never seemed organic, or natural; it also created a labored sense of slowness to the fights. All the fights seemed more like casual demonstrations of power than actual struggles for survival!

The truly sad part about all of this is that I could continue. While I have dealt with four major problems, the truth is that Airbender failed on almost every level a movie can fail on. Even the casting was awful, though not for the reasons that the racial equality people claim. A true tragedy is that the movie did have some good points. But they were so thoroughly overpowered and obscured by the bad that they are easily ignored and forgotten.

What could have been a fun, action-packed epic was instead a dreadful, plodding, hurried mess of a movie that squandered the potential of the source material in order to serve the whims and motives of a man whose career this disastrous movie has most likely ended.

Iron Man and the Hulk: Conversation Between Mike and Kate

I recently saw Iron Man and The Incredible Hulk. I liked Iron Man, so much I saw it twice! I didn't care for The Incredible Hulk. I referred this conflict to Mike who presents the following explanations. (Mike's wife also prefer Iron Man to The Incredible Hulk, so this could just be a guy-gal thing. Mike tackles this posssibility as well as others.)

MIKE: The Incredible Hulk was fun for me because it, far more than Iron Man, really wove together and created the Marvel Universe on the screen. This is important because Iron Man and Hulk were the first two steps of a multi-movie franchise that will culminate in a couple years with the "Avengers" movie.

But it's not fair for a movie to be only accessible to the fans.

I think the main problem that exists with bringing the Hulk to the screen is that they keep trying for superhero when they should be going for more man-on-the-run western. The TV show got it right on some points, but many of the areas where the TV show got it wrong are the areas that the films also get wrong.

In truth, the Hulk is not and never was originally a hero. Jekyll and Hyde weren't heroes either.

KATE: This is an interesting point, Mike! I think it is notable how often the creation or alternate ego takes over in terms of interest. Frankenstein, for example, is actually the doctor, not the monster. The Beast is more interesting than the Prince. Dracula--who hardly appears in the original novel--gets more attention than the scoobie gang. The list goes on . . .

MIKE: The tragedy of Bruce Banner is that the Hulk is the consequence of his genius, and the price he paid to save a life. In the comics, there was no lab accident. Bruce Banner had created a bomb, a very powerful bomb. And when they were about to test it, a teenager wandered into the testing ground. Banner went and saved the kid, but he was almost too late: the blast went off, showering Banner in radiation, turning him into the Hulk.

I think the film does a better job than the Ang Lee Hulk (which is awful). A Hulk movie should, absolutely, be a chase movie. I think the film also does a great job of finding the humor in the circumstances. And, as I said, it really lays the foundation for the world that the next few Marvel films are going to exist in.

But marketing the film as a superhero flick is a mistake. While Banner has done good things, and is a hero in some ways, this is not a man out to save the world; he is seeking to save himself. And the Hulk, as an entity, is also not heroic. The Hulk can't be a hero because he embodies the worst of Banner: his rage, his guilt, his desire to be alone. Banner is seeking to reconcile himself: to bridge and repair his shattered psyche.

KATE: Speaking of heroes (what makes a hero, etc.), in my folklore class, I have used three traditional folklore images to explain modern superheroes:

1. The strong, down-to-earth countryman: Bill Bunyan, Superman
2. The wise-cracking Yankee: "The Yankee Peddler," Tony Stark
3. The backwoodsman or vigilante: George Magoon (famous Maine poacher), Batman

In all three cases, the hero is larger than life and, even if burdened by personal concerns, has some other larger objective.

MIKE: Now, in the film, when Banner is able to finally control the beast, to bend the Hulk to his will, THAT is when he becomes a hero. Not because he saves the city, not because he takes down a beast that his work unleashed. But, rather, because he is able finally to take the anger, fear, and other emotions that are raging beneath the surface and direct them; he is able to be constructive, instead of destructive.

Controlling our emotions and impulses can sometimes take heroic effort, and Bruce Banner's struggle controlling the Hulk is an amazing, though exaggerated, illustration of that struggle.

The problem with superhero movies is that, for most people, they are only compelling when the character is obviously human, like Spider Man or Iron Man. Superman or the Hulk are both difficult because they cannot go through the same things as a human hero. They can't always be hurt or screw up. The last Superman movie disappointed a lot of people, but that should not have been a superhero movie; it was more of a disaster movie, since Superman is more of a force of nature.

KATE: I think my dissatisfation comes in here. It isn't so much that I demand human characteristics, but that I prize cleverness over brute strength. I quite enjoyed the last Superman movie but what I enjoyed, when it came to the battle/action scenes, was Superman's choices. He makes quite active choices about who he will help next and how and when and where. You can see him thinking through the problem. This is true of Iron Man as well. Tony Stark is--in his blithe, capitalistic way--always thinking through his options.

In The Incredible Hulk, the action sequences were just . . . the Hulk throwing stuff. It was, I hate to say this, boring. (To be fair, I did enjoy the beginning of the movie: the chase stuff.) It reminded me of the critique of The Phantom Menace where the critic explains how much more satisfying the fight scene between old Obi-Wan and Darth is compared to the fight scene between their younger selfs. The fight scene between their younger selfs goes on and on and on and on and where's the emotional resonance? On the other hand, the fight scene between the older dudes is short and to-the-point and filled with emotional resonance.

That's how I felt watching The Incredible Hulk. He wasn't making choices, so I didn't care how many cars he ripped up. But when Superman decides to go back and lift Lex Luthor's island out of the ocean: THAT was cool.

MIKE: The strength of the Hulk concept is that through Banner, you have the protagonist and antagonist wrapped together in one person. A true Hulk movie would make the Hulk the villian with Banner and a close friend the heroes, working to overcome the Hulk and use him, when they can, for higher purposes.

The trouble, though, is that people want violence and action, and parents want their children cheering for the good guys. Which may be why Godzilla eventually went from Godzilla destroying the city to protecting it from other monsters.

KATE: There's a great philosophical problem here! The Hulk could struggle with whether the damage he unleashes as the Hulk is worth the good he could do if the power was controlled.

Mike also addresses the guy-gal issue:

MIKE: I think the Hulk resonates more strongly with men because rage, anger, guilt, stress are all emotions that a lot of men struggle controlling regularly. The Hulk is the end result of losing control: he is rage and emotion unleashed. To lose control, to fear cracking and having the emotions escape is something that all men feel to some extent.

KATE: I think this is an interesting point! And much more honest than the politically correct mantra that men and women are the same (I think women can do as much damage as men but not physically. It's a matter of straight-forward mechanics: the strongest woman in the world will never be as strong as the strongest man.)

I have had a few male students write essays on "Why the Hulk would win against Wolverine" or "against Superman," etc. In general, these male students are burly football types. I wonder, sometimes, how frustrated they feel--sitting cramped behind tables having a 5'2" 110 pound woman yap "Essay writing is fun!" at them--and if the Hulk speaks to them in some way. (By the way, they are also almost always my sweetest students.)

Mike gets the last word:

MIKE: But you are right: Hulk doesn't work as a hero. But I believe it's because Hollywood is trying too hard to make him one.

Guest Blogger, Mike Cherniske, Talks About the Purpose of Story!

Mike expounds on the purpose of story. I am going to present his overall comments first followed by some of his specific points:

Where the Wild Things Are was, for me, too weird and intense to be enjoyable. When I mentioned that to a friend, he said, "Well, I love the movie. It's not meant to be enjoyed."

Which BLEW my mind. In my opinion, media is supposed to be enjoyable. If it wasn't, we'd spend our leisure time doing something productive. But it fascinates me how often I've been told that I have to suffer through a non-enjoyable part of a movie or videogame to get a reward. Shouldn't all of a work be fun and enjoyable and rewarding, not just the end? It seems that more and more we are being asked to suffer through things that are supposed to be fun.

More and more I'm hearing, "Oh, that movie was cool, but the story was crap," which is odd to me because the story, for me, IS the movie. Sure, there are things that can augment the story and make up for faults, but if, in the end, the story is complete crap, nothing can make up for that.

I guess I've just been pondering the perceived purpose of media and what people expect it to convey. I guess your [Kate's] post on LOTR also got me thinking about this again because that is one book that for me is absolute TORTURE to get through. It is not fun at all to read. But the story is cool.

In the end, I feel that media should be fun; that doesn't necessarily mean explosions and action. It means that the journey to the point should be enjoyable. Not many endings can justify a long and painful trip. The difficulty of the journey--whether in a video game, movie, or book--can change the level of enjoyment for some people; whether it increases or diminishes the fun depends on the person.

More examples from Mike:

Regarding Grant Morrison's Batman: R.I.P. and Joe the Barbarian: I do like Morrison's ideas. I mean, OF COURSE, Batman would be prepared for mind control. He's Batman. But it's Morrison's writing that is the most frustrating for me. His style of writing, in my opinion, does not suit monthly installments. He's a guy that has the picture figured out ahead, but only gives you pieces until the end (even then sometimes he leaves the point a mystery), which works great in a single, whole work. But this does not always transfer well to a serial format as the reader often forgets the clues and pieces presented before the next installment. This may explain why the only positive experience I've had with the man has been in trade format.

It's also very hard to form a cohesive and clearly communicated narrative or story when the pieces are so scattered and delivered at such long intervals. Morrison strikes me as a man who, when arguing, would jump to and fro from explanation to evidence to point and back again rather than presenting a point, then evidence and an explanation of that evidence.

Break and note from Kate: I feel like I spend entire semesters trying to pound this one simple concept into my students' heads: present a point, then evidence, then explain that evidence.

Back to Mike:

It's interesting because the very characteristic about his writing that I feel is his weakness is often hailed as his strength. I feel Morrison has little sense of direction, moving from idea to idea with no sense of flow or transition, until he finally runs out of ideas and tacks on the ending. Most people disagree. I suppose it's like Picasso. As long as all the pieces are there, it doesn't matter what order they're in. While I love that in art and visuals, I don't always appreciate that in writing.

As for Joe, it's classic Morrison in that you won't understand what's happening until he reveals the back story, but the back story won't be revealed (most likely) until the end of the comic, so not much is going to make sense until then. For me, that's frustrating, as I'd have to read the thing over after it's done to understand. While some people feel that having to read a work multiple times to understand it indicates depth, I feel it indicates poor communication.

The true sign of depth is when you can read something, fully understand the main story or argument, then discover more meaning and symbolism upon rereading. Some people may feel Morrison fits this definition. I would theorize that many of those people have mainly read his work in collections, which, as I said before, is a better venue (a single, self-contained and complete work) for his style of writing.

In general though, his writing is like someone giving a lecture in Hebrew to a room of English-speaking people, and, upon concluding, handing out an English-Hebrew dictionary. While the audience now has the tools to understand what the speaker lectured on, not many have the time or inclination to invest the effort it would take.

I respond in the first comment.