- Klingons speak in hilarious parodic hip-hop lingo; "this looks like a cool place to kick it!"
- Extended cameo by Kal Penn as strangely mellow alien ambassador escorted by Sulu
- Controversial lens flares from first film replaced with relentless, Star Wars-style screen wipes
- Benedict Cumberbatch's character John Harrison revealed to be cockney actor hired by film's true villain, Janice Lester
- Chekov killed moments after donning red uniform, in one of many whimsical references to classic Star Trek sure to delight fans
- Original Series character Richard Daystrom played by actress Grace Park
- One, mercifully brief scene of Simon Pegg in kilt
- Android crewmember representing product sponsorship deal with Android operating system
- Andrew W.K.'s "Party Hard" played during chase scene
- More reaction shots. Many, many more.
- Keenser turns out to be Khan
Friday, 10 May 2013
Revelations from Star Trek Into Darkness
J.J. Abrams' hotly anticipated Star Trek sequel finally opens this month. Among the thrills fans can expect from Into Darkness:
Monday, 11 February 2013
Justice Be Done
A recent interview with Mark Millar has got a lot of people talking. I skimmed the printed version in the last issue of Sci-Fi Now. Needless to say, it made my blood boil.
http://www.scifinow.co.uk/news/33956/justice-league-film-is-an-excellent-way-of-losing-200-million/
Let's go through this step by step.
First of all, I'd like to point out that Mark Millar is a smug and odious bullshitter whose massively overrated work output amounts to the South Park of modern comics: vicious juvenilia masquerading as caustic satire. We can readily dismiss him as an authority on the comics industry, let alone Hollywood. He's a trash talker, plain and simple, and as for these latest comments about the DC pantheon- well, I have no doubt he'd be saying the exact same about the Marvel characters if the tables were turned.
Millar says: “I actually think the big problem for them is the characters are just too out of date...The characters were created 75 years ago, even the newest major character was created 68 years ago, so they’re in a really weird time.”
Uh-huh. And Captain America was created- this may shock you- all the way back in the 1940's! It was, like, the War or something. Most of the other famous Marvel characters debuted in the 60's, so they're not exactly 'current' either. I think what he's getting at here is his belief that DC's heroes are too old to be relevant.
We will come back to that.
Millar says: "Green Lantern... his power is that he manifests green plasma from his imagination and uses them as weapons against someone? Even that in itself if you just imagine then watching a fight scene with a guy who’s like a hundred feet away making plasma manifestations fight someone – it’s not exactly raucous, getting up close and personal."
You could make the same argument about almost any superpowered character. Whether or not a fight scene works is entirely down to choreography and direction, it has fuck all to do with nature of a particular hero's powers.
Millar says: "The Flash has door handles on the side of his mask..."
And? Cap has wings on the sides of his mask. Gee, however could they pull that off in live action?
Nope, not gonna work, tell the studio the Captain America movie is cancelled. We'd be a laughing stock.
Millar says: "If you’ve got a guy who moves at the speed of light up against the Weather Wizard and Captain Cold or whatever, then your movie’s over in two seconds"
As opposed to Spider-Man fighting Doctor Octopus?
Millar says: "Aquaman can’t even talk under water. If you think about it in comics it’s fine, you just have a speech balloon, but how do you have Atlantis and people talking under water? Are they gonna talking telepathically? Is it going to be body forms?"
Wow, such profound insight. On the other hand, you could ask someone who has actually read and knows stuff about Aquaman, beyond shit Super Friends jokes in The Big Bang Theory. Next he'll be telling us how they'll never get away with all that "BIFF! BAM! POW!" if they try to make a Batman movie.
Millar says: "The actual logistics of each member of the Justice League is disastrous, and you put them all together and I think you get an excellent way of losing $200 million"
Well, we kind of know Superman and Batman work in live action, as does Green Lantern, even if the movie he was in failed. The Flash runs fast, Wonder Woman flies... I think they can manage it.
This is actually a variation of that old chestnut 'DC superheroes are too powerful'. Well, the Hulk's physical strength is basically limitless, Thor is an actual, literal God. Nobody is questioning their screen credibility. That is to say, they aren't now, with over a billion dollars under Marvel's belt from The Avengers alone.
Millar's points are not only wrong, they're basically what pundits were saying about all comic book properties before the modern superhero movie renaissance. As with Singer's X-Men, Raimi's Spider-Man and Nolan's Batman movies, it's all a question of the having the right people behind the camera, people who understand tone and timbre, people who get it. Once those producers and writers and directors are in place, issues like this cease to be issues at all. These movies almost never lose money, even so-called flops like Hulk or Elektra cleaned up, as did those that were patently dogs (both Fantastic Four movies, quite a few others).
A final word on Superman; as Grant Morrison quite rightly pointed out, the perception that Man of Steel is no longer popular/ relevent with Joe Public is a fanboy issue, due largely to their disappointment with Superman Returns. However we the fans may regard them, the television series Superboy, Lois and Clark and Smallville were all hugely popular and successful, and Returns was by no means a flop- bear in mind the overall budget for the movie includes the many millions blown on aborted projects like Superman Lives. Returns was a solid success, financially if nothing else. The audience is there, it's all a question of presenting a bold, new vision of the character, a truly 21st century Superman.
Personally, I'm more than ready for Man of Steel to save us all.
http://www.scifinow.co.uk/news/33956/justice-league-film-is-an-excellent-way-of-losing-200-million/
Let's go through this step by step.
First of all, I'd like to point out that Mark Millar is a smug and odious bullshitter whose massively overrated work output amounts to the South Park of modern comics: vicious juvenilia masquerading as caustic satire. We can readily dismiss him as an authority on the comics industry, let alone Hollywood. He's a trash talker, plain and simple, and as for these latest comments about the DC pantheon- well, I have no doubt he'd be saying the exact same about the Marvel characters if the tables were turned.
Millar says: “I actually think the big problem for them is the characters are just too out of date...The characters were created 75 years ago, even the newest major character was created 68 years ago, so they’re in a really weird time.”
Uh-huh. And Captain America was created- this may shock you- all the way back in the 1940's! It was, like, the War or something. Most of the other famous Marvel characters debuted in the 60's, so they're not exactly 'current' either. I think what he's getting at here is his belief that DC's heroes are too old to be relevant.
We will come back to that.
Millar says: "Green Lantern... his power is that he manifests green plasma from his imagination and uses them as weapons against someone? Even that in itself if you just imagine then watching a fight scene with a guy who’s like a hundred feet away making plasma manifestations fight someone – it’s not exactly raucous, getting up close and personal."
You could make the same argument about almost any superpowered character. Whether or not a fight scene works is entirely down to choreography and direction, it has fuck all to do with nature of a particular hero's powers.
Millar says: "The Flash has door handles on the side of his mask..."
And? Cap has wings on the sides of his mask. Gee, however could they pull that off in live action?
Nope, not gonna work, tell the studio the Captain America movie is cancelled. We'd be a laughing stock.
Millar says: "If you’ve got a guy who moves at the speed of light up against the Weather Wizard and Captain Cold or whatever, then your movie’s over in two seconds"
As opposed to Spider-Man fighting Doctor Octopus?
Millar says: "Aquaman can’t even talk under water. If you think about it in comics it’s fine, you just have a speech balloon, but how do you have Atlantis and people talking under water? Are they gonna talking telepathically? Is it going to be body forms?"
Wow, such profound insight. On the other hand, you could ask someone who has actually read and knows stuff about Aquaman, beyond shit Super Friends jokes in The Big Bang Theory. Next he'll be telling us how they'll never get away with all that "BIFF! BAM! POW!" if they try to make a Batman movie.
Millar says: "The actual logistics of each member of the Justice League is disastrous, and you put them all together and I think you get an excellent way of losing $200 million"
Well, we kind of know Superman and Batman work in live action, as does Green Lantern, even if the movie he was in failed. The Flash runs fast, Wonder Woman flies... I think they can manage it.
This is actually a variation of that old chestnut 'DC superheroes are too powerful'. Well, the Hulk's physical strength is basically limitless, Thor is an actual, literal God. Nobody is questioning their screen credibility. That is to say, they aren't now, with over a billion dollars under Marvel's belt from The Avengers alone.
Millar's points are not only wrong, they're basically what pundits were saying about all comic book properties before the modern superhero movie renaissance. As with Singer's X-Men, Raimi's Spider-Man and Nolan's Batman movies, it's all a question of the having the right people behind the camera, people who understand tone and timbre, people who get it. Once those producers and writers and directors are in place, issues like this cease to be issues at all. These movies almost never lose money, even so-called flops like Hulk or Elektra cleaned up, as did those that were patently dogs (both Fantastic Four movies, quite a few others).
A final word on Superman; as Grant Morrison quite rightly pointed out, the perception that Man of Steel is no longer popular/ relevent with Joe Public is a fanboy issue, due largely to their disappointment with Superman Returns. However we the fans may regard them, the television series Superboy, Lois and Clark and Smallville were all hugely popular and successful, and Returns was by no means a flop- bear in mind the overall budget for the movie includes the many millions blown on aborted projects like Superman Lives. Returns was a solid success, financially if nothing else. The audience is there, it's all a question of presenting a bold, new vision of the character, a truly 21st century Superman.
Personally, I'm more than ready for Man of Steel to save us all.
Monday, 25 June 2012
Friday, 15 June 2012
A little rant about class and the individual
It's not often my posts are topical, but the second part of Grayson Perry's All in the Best Possible Taste, shown recently on Channel 4, made me livid.
Perry, a Turner Prize-winning artist (that is to say his stuff is ghastly) and self-conscious 'eccentric', purports to examine the tastes of the social strata making up Britain today. Well, arguably the very format is based on a false assumption, that the populace still divides neatly into three socio-economic classes but I'll come back to that.
Perry casts a supposedly uncritical eye over the families and neighbourhoods he tours, weaving his encounters into bluntly satirical cartoons on an enormous, gaudy tapestry unveiled and the programme's end. Quite apart from the fact that Perry, for all his dabbling in Monty Python-style cross-dressing looks more like an Emo Phillips impersonator than anything else, and has half as much charisma as narrator Stephen Mangan (the most charmless and boring man ever to achieve fame as a comic actor in Britain), there's no mistaking his condescension towards the "middle-class" (deliberate quotation marks) people and surroundings that comprise so much of today's Britain, and where Perry himself has roots. This becomes quite explicit in his grotesque tapestry, combining every ugly sofa and ill-judged wallpaper pattern Perry has seen, with the usual iconography of suburban blandness: the cafetiere, Jamie Oliver, and so on. Worst of all, the very people Perry are sneering at are invited to view his work, reacting exactly as they're expected to; politely amused, shyly flattered. It's all painfully English.
Tellingly, Perry opines that much of the faux-sophisticated or whimsical clutter found in people's homes is an expression of 'individuality' by people who may or may not realise that they are doing the exact same thing as their equally insecure neighbours, so actually following a trend. What I think he fails to appreciate is that in an evermore homogenised society, even token attempts to resist conformity are significant and should not be so quickly dismissed.
I've long felt a deep anxiety over this subject, that of striving to be a distinct and self-determined individual without defining myself by exactly the same standards as lots of other 'unique' people. I avoided branded clothes, for instance, partly for this reason, never feeling comfortable wearing someone else’s logo. I wouldn't even wear band t-shirts or hoodies when I was in high school, as they were the uniform of 'Moshers', the interchangeable parade of gloomy kids with piercings, dyed-black hair and crisscrossed scars on their forearms. I was adamant that I wouldn't belong to one 'type', and consequently ended up with no friends. That pretty well sums up the pressures of conformity and the consequences of refusing to blend quietly into your demographic.
Today I feel much the same, albeit a tad more relaxed. I still won't be caught dead in 'name' clothing, and though I'll happily wear my Batman t-shirt, I avoid slogans and the like. There are enough ads in the world as it is.
On the subject of class, gone are the days when everyone fell into one of three categories, upper (wealthy)-, middle (comfortably off)-, or lower (dirt poor)-class. Think about the British people today: Living conditions for those on the very bottom rung of society are far higher than they were 30 years ago, and certainly wouldn't be classed as 'poverty' by those living in less developed countries. Warmth, shelter, electricity, hot and cold running water, and a large variety of foods are taken totally for granted. Once upon a time, poor people starved to death. Today, obesity is our number 1 health concern. The old standards of Rich and Poor simply do not apply to us anymore.
Whereas once the majority worked for enough to live on, whilst only the truly rich people enjoyed luxuries, now luxuries are assumed as a basic right. Broadband and TV channels in their hundreds certainly don't come under the rubric of 'essential to survival'. Furthermore, once the conveniences and gadgets are secured in our homes, they're usually there to stay. Reckless borrowing may leave millions with the threat of repossession hanging over their every purchase, but someone who runs a car is unlikely ever to give up their vehicle in favour of cheaper travel on public transport, anymore than one would opt for water instead of milk on their cereal, purely because one costs less than the other. There's no real sense that the material riches the post-War generation dreamed of will be taken away any time soon. This culture of consumerism and credit for all means that the most lavish lifestyles are within reach of the poorest people, and this is what has led many commentators to remark that, today, everybody is middle-class (I should pause here to point out that I am not actually criticising any of this. As someone who regularly enjoys disposable income, I'm actually far happier with this state of affairs than someone of the Left probably should be).
So then, if most of us, regardless of social class, are driving cars, living well, enjoying foreign holidays, and using top of the line computers and mobile phones, have we not reached a point where, for all intents and purposes, we are all the same? Those monstrous corporations really couldn't care less who buys their products, as long as they get the money. How can any of us hope to stand out in this vast, moneyed crowd? For some, the answer lies in getting Back to Basics, returning to the land and all that. The media is full of tousle-haired types espousing the joys of bucolic pursuits, of country life among the crops and livestock. People living in urban areas are growing their own vegetables or keeping chickens. The Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's and Alex James's witter endlessly about how getting away from it all made everything better. The problem there is obvious: both of them are celebrities, who had plenty of money to fund these rustic mini-utopias. They kissed oppressive urban living goodbye because they could afford it. Those of us with ordinary jobs to go to, shopping to do, kids to take here and there don't have that option, and it's getting to the point where returning to the Green and Pleasant olde England will reveal nothing but vast estates owned by rich people off the telly. In celebrity circles, this type of thing is just another expression of privilege, and so not really 'eccentric' at all, but then most wealthy people don't fret about conformity. The real beauty of money is that it allows you to make your own rules, and that, ultimately, is what we all want.
Perry, a Turner Prize-winning artist (that is to say his stuff is ghastly) and self-conscious 'eccentric', purports to examine the tastes of the social strata making up Britain today. Well, arguably the very format is based on a false assumption, that the populace still divides neatly into three socio-economic classes but I'll come back to that.
Perry casts a supposedly uncritical eye over the families and neighbourhoods he tours, weaving his encounters into bluntly satirical cartoons on an enormous, gaudy tapestry unveiled and the programme's end. Quite apart from the fact that Perry, for all his dabbling in Monty Python-style cross-dressing looks more like an Emo Phillips impersonator than anything else, and has half as much charisma as narrator Stephen Mangan (the most charmless and boring man ever to achieve fame as a comic actor in Britain), there's no mistaking his condescension towards the "middle-class" (deliberate quotation marks) people and surroundings that comprise so much of today's Britain, and where Perry himself has roots. This becomes quite explicit in his grotesque tapestry, combining every ugly sofa and ill-judged wallpaper pattern Perry has seen, with the usual iconography of suburban blandness: the cafetiere, Jamie Oliver, and so on. Worst of all, the very people Perry are sneering at are invited to view his work, reacting exactly as they're expected to; politely amused, shyly flattered. It's all painfully English.
Tellingly, Perry opines that much of the faux-sophisticated or whimsical clutter found in people's homes is an expression of 'individuality' by people who may or may not realise that they are doing the exact same thing as their equally insecure neighbours, so actually following a trend. What I think he fails to appreciate is that in an evermore homogenised society, even token attempts to resist conformity are significant and should not be so quickly dismissed.
I've long felt a deep anxiety over this subject, that of striving to be a distinct and self-determined individual without defining myself by exactly the same standards as lots of other 'unique' people. I avoided branded clothes, for instance, partly for this reason, never feeling comfortable wearing someone else’s logo. I wouldn't even wear band t-shirts or hoodies when I was in high school, as they were the uniform of 'Moshers', the interchangeable parade of gloomy kids with piercings, dyed-black hair and crisscrossed scars on their forearms. I was adamant that I wouldn't belong to one 'type', and consequently ended up with no friends. That pretty well sums up the pressures of conformity and the consequences of refusing to blend quietly into your demographic.
Today I feel much the same, albeit a tad more relaxed. I still won't be caught dead in 'name' clothing, and though I'll happily wear my Batman t-shirt, I avoid slogans and the like. There are enough ads in the world as it is.
On the subject of class, gone are the days when everyone fell into one of three categories, upper (wealthy)-, middle (comfortably off)-, or lower (dirt poor)-class. Think about the British people today: Living conditions for those on the very bottom rung of society are far higher than they were 30 years ago, and certainly wouldn't be classed as 'poverty' by those living in less developed countries. Warmth, shelter, electricity, hot and cold running water, and a large variety of foods are taken totally for granted. Once upon a time, poor people starved to death. Today, obesity is our number 1 health concern. The old standards of Rich and Poor simply do not apply to us anymore.
Whereas once the majority worked for enough to live on, whilst only the truly rich people enjoyed luxuries, now luxuries are assumed as a basic right. Broadband and TV channels in their hundreds certainly don't come under the rubric of 'essential to survival'. Furthermore, once the conveniences and gadgets are secured in our homes, they're usually there to stay. Reckless borrowing may leave millions with the threat of repossession hanging over their every purchase, but someone who runs a car is unlikely ever to give up their vehicle in favour of cheaper travel on public transport, anymore than one would opt for water instead of milk on their cereal, purely because one costs less than the other. There's no real sense that the material riches the post-War generation dreamed of will be taken away any time soon. This culture of consumerism and credit for all means that the most lavish lifestyles are within reach of the poorest people, and this is what has led many commentators to remark that, today, everybody is middle-class (I should pause here to point out that I am not actually criticising any of this. As someone who regularly enjoys disposable income, I'm actually far happier with this state of affairs than someone of the Left probably should be).
So then, if most of us, regardless of social class, are driving cars, living well, enjoying foreign holidays, and using top of the line computers and mobile phones, have we not reached a point where, for all intents and purposes, we are all the same? Those monstrous corporations really couldn't care less who buys their products, as long as they get the money. How can any of us hope to stand out in this vast, moneyed crowd? For some, the answer lies in getting Back to Basics, returning to the land and all that. The media is full of tousle-haired types espousing the joys of bucolic pursuits, of country life among the crops and livestock. People living in urban areas are growing their own vegetables or keeping chickens. The Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's and Alex James's witter endlessly about how getting away from it all made everything better. The problem there is obvious: both of them are celebrities, who had plenty of money to fund these rustic mini-utopias. They kissed oppressive urban living goodbye because they could afford it. Those of us with ordinary jobs to go to, shopping to do, kids to take here and there don't have that option, and it's getting to the point where returning to the Green and Pleasant olde England will reveal nothing but vast estates owned by rich people off the telly. In celebrity circles, this type of thing is just another expression of privilege, and so not really 'eccentric' at all, but then most wealthy people don't fret about conformity. The real beauty of money is that it allows you to make your own rules, and that, ultimately, is what we all want.
Saturday, 31 December 2011
New Year's Resolutions (Why They're a Waste of Time)
1. Have more sex.
With eventual aim of becoming good at it. But realistically, that's like devoting my time and energy to getting hit by fewer meteors.
2. Get a new (well-paid, non retail) job.
Actually any job that I'm not ready to chuck within 8 months, with colleagues that aren't total flakes, would make a nice change. The problem is, I've spent my whole working life up to this point in dead end shop jobs because those are pretty much my only option. Finding an actual vocational position somewhere would mean going back to school, and I'd rather still be wearing the polo shirt and namebadge ensemble and filling shelves when I'm in my 80's (entirely plausible, if the Tory's have their way) than set foot in another place of learning. So this one doesn't wash either.
3. Get a place of my own to live.
No dice without that fat salary from that fantasy job. In the current financial climate, a retail worker needs to be grafting a good 50 or 60 hours a week to maintain a comfortable living standard and run their own home. Yes, lots of people manage- my mother and I included- with benefits, but again, we've a Conservative government and their very real and active plans to dismantle the welfare state to consider. In fact, scrub this one and go with 'Don't count on benefits ever again'.
4. Make new friends.
Hmm, and maybe once I've mastered this I'll solve my financial problems by selling the secret to other lonely, disaffected people with blogs.
5. Actually meet some of my current (online) friends.
Those in the US and Finland, not very likely, however there is a chance of meeting two others at the SFX Weekender this February (won't actually be attending the event; the prohibitive cost was a large factor in the dissatisfaction with SFX that lead me to abandon the online forum and eventually the magazine itself). That's assuming I actually have the petty cash to afford the trip to Pontins in Prestatyn. If so, it'll be the closest thing to an actual holiday I've had in years, and certainly the most glamorous!
6. Take less shit from people in general.
In the last 24 months, I've actually been regularly treated like shit by co-workers, customers and even a few 'friends', and most of the time I've barely questioned it. I've been far too accepting of very shoddy treatment from my fellow creatures and badly need to stop listening to the little voices in the back of my mind telling me not to expect any better.
7. Learn to play the piano.
I could say guitar, but that'd really be flattering myself.
8. Start writing again... Make serious effort to turn occassional hobby into a career.
This would entail convincing myself once and for all that I do have some modicum of talent, and of somehow honing my craft to the point where not every sentence is grueling uphill struggle, so that my work output is a tad higher than one short story every 6 years. Also probably wouldn't hurt to brush up on that punctuation thing.
9. Girlfriend.
Not managed to make this one happen for any of the last twenty-five years, but I've got a good feelin' about 2012!
10. Blog more.
Possibly just commit my thoughts to paper aeroplanes and launch them from the roof, thus in all likelihood significantly boosting my readership.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind..."
With eventual aim of becoming good at it. But realistically, that's like devoting my time and energy to getting hit by fewer meteors.
2. Get a new (well-paid, non retail) job.
Actually any job that I'm not ready to chuck within 8 months, with colleagues that aren't total flakes, would make a nice change. The problem is, I've spent my whole working life up to this point in dead end shop jobs because those are pretty much my only option. Finding an actual vocational position somewhere would mean going back to school, and I'd rather still be wearing the polo shirt and namebadge ensemble and filling shelves when I'm in my 80's (entirely plausible, if the Tory's have their way) than set foot in another place of learning. So this one doesn't wash either.
3. Get a place of my own to live.
No dice without that fat salary from that fantasy job. In the current financial climate, a retail worker needs to be grafting a good 50 or 60 hours a week to maintain a comfortable living standard and run their own home. Yes, lots of people manage- my mother and I included- with benefits, but again, we've a Conservative government and their very real and active plans to dismantle the welfare state to consider. In fact, scrub this one and go with 'Don't count on benefits ever again'.
4. Make new friends.
Hmm, and maybe once I've mastered this I'll solve my financial problems by selling the secret to other lonely, disaffected people with blogs.
5. Actually meet some of my current (online) friends.
Those in the US and Finland, not very likely, however there is a chance of meeting two others at the SFX Weekender this February (won't actually be attending the event; the prohibitive cost was a large factor in the dissatisfaction with SFX that lead me to abandon the online forum and eventually the magazine itself). That's assuming I actually have the petty cash to afford the trip to Pontins in Prestatyn. If so, it'll be the closest thing to an actual holiday I've had in years, and certainly the most glamorous!
6. Take less shit from people in general.
In the last 24 months, I've actually been regularly treated like shit by co-workers, customers and even a few 'friends', and most of the time I've barely questioned it. I've been far too accepting of very shoddy treatment from my fellow creatures and badly need to stop listening to the little voices in the back of my mind telling me not to expect any better.
7. Learn to play the piano.
I could say guitar, but that'd really be flattering myself.
8. Start writing again... Make serious effort to turn occassional hobby into a career.
This would entail convincing myself once and for all that I do have some modicum of talent, and of somehow honing my craft to the point where not every sentence is grueling uphill struggle, so that my work output is a tad higher than one short story every 6 years. Also probably wouldn't hurt to brush up on that punctuation thing.
9. Girlfriend.
Not managed to make this one happen for any of the last twenty-five years, but I've got a good feelin' about 2012!
10. Blog more.
Possibly just commit my thoughts to paper aeroplanes and launch them from the roof, thus in all likelihood significantly boosting my readership.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind..."
Thursday, 1 September 2011
Decision time
(L-to-R) Top row: Yes*, no, maybe, won't last 6 months so who cares, yes, yes, no.
Second row: No, yes, grudgingly yes, might be good, About Fucking Time, probably not, no, pointless without Oracle, yes.
Third row: No, yes, no, cautiously yes, don't be stupid, no, maybe, maybe, maybe.
Fourth row: Probably not, Who??, who are they trying to kid?, no, no, I'll give it 2 more issues, maybe, yes, no.
Fifth row: No, no, yes, yes, no, maybe, yes, no, no.
Bottom row: Probably not, yes, yes, no, God no, yes but only for Martian Manhunter, maybe, no, I'd love to want to say yes, but... No.
*Only as long as Morrison's writing it.
UPDATE Summer 2012: Current pull list is Action Comics (enjoyable if irksome), Animal Man (an honest-to-goodness horror book that's really impressed me), Aquaman (amazingly well-handled, streamlined take on the character and his history, which kicks lots of ass and looks gorgeous, month in, month out), Batgirl (like everyone, I miss Oracle, but at least Gail Simone is still writing Babs), Batman/ Batman and Robin/ Detective Comics/ Batman Inc. (all have been consistently gripping and very enjoyable. Bat-history barely seems effected at all, although Stephanie and Cassandra inexplicably get the shitty end of the stick once again), Batwing (really entertaining and compelling book that so easily could have been a bland Bat-wannabe. Rumours are that it's headed for cancellation, which I fervently hope are untrue), Batwoman (same creative team as before the reboot, so it's every bit as good), The Flash (good, but not rocking anybodies' world just now. Badly need to up their game with this one), Green Lantern (basically Sinestro's book these days, but another title that's benefitted greatly from the hands-off approach. Great stuff), Justice League International (on its final issue *sniff*. Booster is supposedly getting his own solo book again soon), Nightwing (great to have it back, but could do better), Red Lanterns (lots of people dislike it for some reason. I find the exploits of Attrocitus and co. fun and satisfying), Supergirl (well written, but Kara was reintroduced to mainstream DC so recently, it can't help but jar. And I hate that costume), Superman (rapidly losing patience with it, too), Wonder Woman (Brian Azzarello can write Wonder Woman!- who knew? Story arc is dragging a bit though) and the new Smallville: Season 11 series.
Dropped like a stone were: DC Universe Presents (Deadman arc was enjoyable enough, nothing since has interested me in the slightest), Green Lantern New Guardians (not enough to hold my interest, and I didn't appreciate the retelling of Kyle's origin), Justice League (I so wanted to love this, but it's awkward, shallow and Jim Lee's art bugs me almost as much as seeing Martian Manhunter's place usurped by Token- sorry, Cyborg. The horrible Shazam back-up strip was the last straw for me), Justice League Dark (cool concept, but the first issue was dull and I hate the New 52 version of Zatanna), Mister Terrific (a character I love, so a big disappointment. Predictably cancelled), Red Hood and the Outlaws (that first issue... Christ, I haven't felt so sullied by a comic since All-Star Batman and Robin. I felt like writing to Starfire to apologise. Ghastly), Stormwatch (read it for Martian Manhunter, who was hardly in it and poorly handled, and indeed is soon to be written out. God knows who thought giving this to Paul Cornell was a good idea) and Teen Titans (rebooted versions of all the characters I cared about, in hideous new costumes. Just shit). Also Earth 2 (after 1 issue) and World's Finest (after 3), as reading James Robinson's horrible, Ultimates take on the Justice Society does nothing for my blood pressure, and Paul Levitz's writing sends me to sleep.
What's your sex?
Some months ago I wrote a bit about my sexual outlook and my ambivalence towards pornography. Looking back, I feel a little bit of a hypocrite: for one thing, I'm still a regular and unapologetic porn consumer, even if 9 out of every 10 clips I view (I won't lie to you or myself by calling them 'movies') are erotically bankrupt dreck. I said before I don't actually hate porn, but I should have specified that actually I love it- one the rare occasion it's any good.
Anyway... Jadis, endless source of inspiration that she is, recently posted a blog on the various concepts of sexual identity, and invited her friends to contribute their thoughts. My 'comment' turned out to be more of a mini essay, which I reproduce here. This is the first time I've written about my own sexual identity in such detail.
* * *
One bisexual male's P.O.V: As a teenager, I found the same private, hormone-fired fascination with other males as did a lot of lads my age (although I never knew this then). It was puberty, plain and simple; wanting to know just how far the storm of new sensory experiences could take me. I wondered about sex with other males, sure- I wondered about sex! I certainly wasn’t having any. It was, truly, a whole new level of perception: I knew very little about it, I couldn’t really imagine how it’d feel, but it had become the most important thing in the universe. I quickly got used to adults telling me it was all just a phase, that I’d calm right down as I got older. That seemed a bizarre suggestion then, it seems bloody ridiculous to me now.
Yes, my interest in other boys was fleeting. Girls were softer, easier on the eyes and a thousand times more complex. In fact, it was my first introduction to women, and I’ve been hopelessly in love ever since.
Flashforward to my late teens and I’m thinking about other males again. I’m still a virgin, still painfully gauche, but I’m familiar enough with at least the mechanics of sex to realise it’s not so narrow and limited as to be closed of to those of us without girlfriends.
Since that time, I’ve been with men and I’ve been with women. I’ve sat and looked at myself and thought how my feelings make no sense. I’ve thought, when enjoying the company of a man, that I could live the rest of my life without women and be perfectly happy. At other times, I’ve been with a woman and seriously wondered what on earth ever drew me to other men in the first place. The problem was, I kept expecting my inner self to figure out what shaped peg it was and drop into the appropriate hole (so to speak).
We live in a world that demands we categorise and label ourselves on every level: we like what we can recognise and identify. We often feel at our safest knowing we are one of many. It’s an instinctive anxiety, but it doesn’t make much sense. Life itself thrives on diversity, and those that don’t devise new levels of being, be they individuals or species, are doomed to stagnate and die.
Are you straight or gay? If you’re bisexual, which gender do you like better? I was forever asking these questions of myself. But honestly, sexual and romantic passion for the opposite gender and the same passion for your own are entirely different. What I desire and enjoy in men is nothing like what I desire and enjoy with women- it seems so obvious now!
It’s been suggested that bisexuals are simply sexual omnivores, addicts who’ll say yes to everything, with bisexual men in particular having just watched too much porn. Some say that porn conditions straight men to associate the naked male bodies they see with the pleasure they derive from watching women, and thus they start to think of themselves of bi. I have a little sympathy for these theories, certainly there will always be some men with the ‘any hole’s a goal’ attitude, and God knows any man who turns to fellow males seeking simply a substitute woman is doomed to end up more frustrated and depressed than ever. In the end, regardless of stated orientation, if you can’t love men for being male, or women for being female, you’re barking up the wrong tree.
The very definition of sexuality is the most nebulous, most hard to quantify in the whole sphere of human experience. There are those who see it purely as a question of which gender you prefer, while others see ‘sexuality’ as beginning and ending simply with whatever gets you off- fantasies, fetishes, etc. Neither definition is adequate. Sex is a vast, fluid continuum of perception, experience, intensity. The variables are infinite. One’s sexuality is as complex and individual as one’s fingerprints.
I call myself bisexual for the sake of conversational clairty, but the older I get, the more I think of these labels as essentially meaningless.
I am a sexual being. I am me.
One final thing: Cardiff's LGBT Mardi Gras is this weekend. I'll be going along this year, for the first time ever. Hope it's nice!
Anyway... Jadis, endless source of inspiration that she is, recently posted a blog on the various concepts of sexual identity, and invited her friends to contribute their thoughts. My 'comment' turned out to be more of a mini essay, which I reproduce here. This is the first time I've written about my own sexual identity in such detail.
* * *
One bisexual male's P.O.V: As a teenager, I found the same private, hormone-fired fascination with other males as did a lot of lads my age (although I never knew this then). It was puberty, plain and simple; wanting to know just how far the storm of new sensory experiences could take me. I wondered about sex with other males, sure- I wondered about sex! I certainly wasn’t having any. It was, truly, a whole new level of perception: I knew very little about it, I couldn’t really imagine how it’d feel, but it had become the most important thing in the universe. I quickly got used to adults telling me it was all just a phase, that I’d calm right down as I got older. That seemed a bizarre suggestion then, it seems bloody ridiculous to me now.
Yes, my interest in other boys was fleeting. Girls were softer, easier on the eyes and a thousand times more complex. In fact, it was my first introduction to women, and I’ve been hopelessly in love ever since.
Flashforward to my late teens and I’m thinking about other males again. I’m still a virgin, still painfully gauche, but I’m familiar enough with at least the mechanics of sex to realise it’s not so narrow and limited as to be closed of to those of us without girlfriends.
Since that time, I’ve been with men and I’ve been with women. I’ve sat and looked at myself and thought how my feelings make no sense. I’ve thought, when enjoying the company of a man, that I could live the rest of my life without women and be perfectly happy. At other times, I’ve been with a woman and seriously wondered what on earth ever drew me to other men in the first place. The problem was, I kept expecting my inner self to figure out what shaped peg it was and drop into the appropriate hole (so to speak).
We live in a world that demands we categorise and label ourselves on every level: we like what we can recognise and identify. We often feel at our safest knowing we are one of many. It’s an instinctive anxiety, but it doesn’t make much sense. Life itself thrives on diversity, and those that don’t devise new levels of being, be they individuals or species, are doomed to stagnate and die.
Are you straight or gay? If you’re bisexual, which gender do you like better? I was forever asking these questions of myself. But honestly, sexual and romantic passion for the opposite gender and the same passion for your own are entirely different. What I desire and enjoy in men is nothing like what I desire and enjoy with women- it seems so obvious now!
It’s been suggested that bisexuals are simply sexual omnivores, addicts who’ll say yes to everything, with bisexual men in particular having just watched too much porn. Some say that porn conditions straight men to associate the naked male bodies they see with the pleasure they derive from watching women, and thus they start to think of themselves of bi. I have a little sympathy for these theories, certainly there will always be some men with the ‘any hole’s a goal’ attitude, and God knows any man who turns to fellow males seeking simply a substitute woman is doomed to end up more frustrated and depressed than ever. In the end, regardless of stated orientation, if you can’t love men for being male, or women for being female, you’re barking up the wrong tree.
The very definition of sexuality is the most nebulous, most hard to quantify in the whole sphere of human experience. There are those who see it purely as a question of which gender you prefer, while others see ‘sexuality’ as beginning and ending simply with whatever gets you off- fantasies, fetishes, etc. Neither definition is adequate. Sex is a vast, fluid continuum of perception, experience, intensity. The variables are infinite. One’s sexuality is as complex and individual as one’s fingerprints.
I call myself bisexual for the sake of conversational clairty, but the older I get, the more I think of these labels as essentially meaningless.
I am a sexual being. I am me.
One final thing: Cardiff's LGBT Mardi Gras is this weekend. I'll be going along this year, for the first time ever. Hope it's nice!
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