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Saturday, December 06, 2003 ( 12/06/2003 08:08:00 AM ) Bill S. EVIL WILLIE – Watched a taping of Bravo's Celebrity Poker Showdown last night: the net's been hyping it as the next big thing since Queer Eye, but I don't see it. At root, the show shares the same problem that those annual weeks of Celebrity Jeopardy do. Because the celebs are playing for charity (and each charity's guaranteed a minimum something), there's little sense of risk to the game. If there's any small pleasure to gained from the opening entry (lord knows that the quip quotient was pretty damn low), it's from watching a who-the-hell-is-that? level actor whup a big name star. And so we got to see Willie Garson (Carrie's gay friend from Sex And the City, though I better remember him as a weaselly recurring character on the Jimmy Smits era NYPD Blue) go one-on-one against Ben Affleck – and trounce him through pure dumb luck betting. Show m-c Kevin Pollack (who I recall appearing years ago in a Comedy Channel stand-up poker challenge that was marginally more amusing than this) kept referring to Garson as "Evil Willie" due to his odds-defyin' good luck. Me, I kept thinking: I play with guys like that. # | Friday, December 05, 2003 ( 12/05/2003 06:53:00 AM ) Bill S. YOU CAN'T HIDE YOUR MANGA EYES – After this week's less-than-satisfied look at The Ring graphic novel (note John Jakala's comment for a similar sentiment), I was ready to be directed to Margaret O'Connell's Sequential Tart piece on why manga and anime characters look the way they do. Doesn't make the Dark Horse GN any scarier, but it does provide a cultural context for all the big-eyed ladies and willowy boy/men in modern manga. # | ( 12/05/2003 06:30:00 AM ) Bill S. JUST WHEN I WAS CONSIDERING A TIP JAR – Biggest blog related laff of the week: Ruben Bolling's quickie "Blog-O-Comic" in this week's "Super-Fun-Pak Comix." (The strip is running on Salon this week, but if you don't wanna bother with the opening ad, wait a week and it'll show on uComics.) It's funny because it's true. # | Thursday, December 04, 2003 ( 12/04/2003 07:02:00 AM ) Bill S. MORE BITS & PIECES – It's mid-week (assuming you start yer week on the same day I do, of course), and I've got a pile of half-thoughts undeserving of their own full postings. So let's just bullet point!
# | Wednesday, December 03, 2003 ( 12/03/2003 12:02:00 PM ) Bill S. BLIMP-ISM – I don't comment on size acceptance issues too often on this blog, though regular readers probably know that it is an ongoing concern of mine. But I noted with interest this Move On alert related to the recent police-related death of a 300-plus pound black man in Cincinnati. The posting quotes conservative radio talkman Bill Cunningham's recent appearance on Hannity & Colmes where the airwave pundit denies that the death was caused by a beating at the hands of four white city cops – but rather by the man's obesity. "At the end of the day," Cunningham states, "this man died of heart failure because he was a blimp and a poor imitation of Notorious B.I.G." Oh, and the four cops whacking on his ass weren't a factor? Move On, befitting its liberal PoV, is looking at Cunningham's performance as an instance of race-baiting, and while there are elements of this in the guy's Fox TV performance, the telling meme for me in this piece is the way Cunningham relies on the audience's certainty that obesity is an automatic death sentence to place an advance spin on this story. At the time the guy was pontificating on Fox, after all, the coroner had not yet released a report citing the exact cause of victim Nathaniel Jones' death. Yet, hey, we all know the real reason that Jones snuffed it: he was, in Cunningham's words, a 350-pound "refrigerator." I don't know how this story will ultimately play out: whether blame for Jones' death will be laid on the four policemen accused of beating him or on the dead man himself. Betcha if the cops are found to be responsible, though, some blowhard'll make a point of declaring that Jones' fatness made him a walking corpse, anyway. When received "truths" are used to obfuscate a story like this, it points out how even "harmless" stereotypes can be pernicious. Occasionally, when I find myself reacting to a size-based slam in the media, I find myself wondering if I'm being pointlessly p.c. After I read dillweeds like Cunningham, though, I don't feel so reflexively over-sensitive. . . # | ( 12/03/2003 11:25:00 AM ) Bill S. SIXTY MINUTE MANGA – (Episode Seven: Water play and a killer video.) I don't want to give the impression that I have any kind of grand scheme here – by and large this series of manga samplings has proceeded on a whim by whim basis – but The Ring was not the book I originally planned to review this week. I'd already purchased and begun the first volume of Paradise Kiss when I happened on this Dark Horse edition at my local comics shop. Bought it, put it aside with the intention of getting into it later, but something kept drawing back to the book: perhaps it was the striking red cover. With Ai Yasawa's punk/glam fashion romance still unfinished, I turned to Hiroshi Takahashi & Misao Inagaki's adaptation of this hot property story and quickly immersed myself in it. Mr. Impulse Blogger, that's me. I'm told that this manga version is primarily based on the Hideo Nakta-directed film Ringu (though Dark Horse's cover blurb obscures the point, reading as if the work is an adaptation of the source novel by Koji Suzuki). Manga scripter Takahashi is also the scriptwriter for the movie, though, so this makes sense. At this point, I've viewed neither movie nor read the novel, so the point is probably moot. But I can't help wondering about the way that Dark Horse sells it as a book adaptation. Is a book manga-ization more legitimate than a movie adaptation? Is Classics Illustrated classier than an old Dell movie retelling? This edition appears to be combining two graphic paperbacks – midway into it, at page 154, the pagination starts over again for another 154 pages. I find the format editorially lazy (c'mon, Dark Horse, you're translating the numbers, anyway, so why not maintain the first pagination?), but 300-plus pages of pb-sized manga for $14.95 remains a decent bargain. Not as good a deal as an issue of Shonen Jump, say, but at least the paper's more durable. So what about the actual contents?  First element that strikes me, when I start in the book's opening chapter, is Inagaki's art. The artist makes his adult figures big-headed and childlike, a look I've associated with more kid-friendly fare, not horror manga. When, after opening with a scene between two teenaged victims-in-waiting, the story shifts focus to reporter heroine Reiko, for the space of a few panels I don't recognize her as any different age-wise from the two teen-girls. It's like watching a remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre being played out by Hummel figurines.Without giving away too much plot, manga Ring revolves around Reiko, the aunt of one of our opening page victims. First time we meet her, she's listening to three of her niece's high school classmates recount the rumor that's circulating about the girl's death: that she was one of five teens to watch a "cursed video." Reiko is drawn into investigating the girl's death, which leads her to an isolated cabin with a TV and VCR. Of course she finds the mysterious video, and of course she watches it. Said tape turns out to be packed with oblique imagery and ends with the wordy warning: "The person who watches this will die one week later at this time of day." Our heroine is immediately caught up by the video's message. Eyes wide open, sweat dripping down her face, she sees a figure in the cabin mirror reflection that appears to be either a longhaired or black hooded girl. When she turns, the figure has vanished. From here on, the focus turns twoard solving the mystery of the unknown video. Reiko enlists the aid of her ex-husband, Ryiuji, a college prof who treats the whole thing as a lark. ("It's fun to have a deadline," he jokes in reference to the videotape's one-week sentence.) Ryiuji is often depicted leaning back and nonchalantly holding a cigarette, so we're pretty sure he's gonna get it for underestimating the power of the evil they're facing. Ryiuji views the video himself, attempting to pick apart the images and look for clues to its meaning. As the two begin their investigation, yet a third character watches the deadly video; after she dreams of being visited by her dead niece Tomoko (creepily rendered with blood dripping from her eyes), Reiko wakes to find her young son in front of the set. "Tomoko told me to watch," the saucer-eyed kid explains. Now Reiko's race to solve the mystery has an even greater urgency. Takahashi's script works to regularly remind us the clock is ticking: heroine Reiko periodically tells herself how little time she has. Where modern American genre comics have largely abandoned the convention of thought balloons, they're used effectively in this book, black lines radiating from the text in place of the cloud-like constructions American comics readers know. Throughout the story, Reiko is shown both thinking and talking to herself aloud to get across story points. The thought balloons are a more convincing tactic. A good portion of the book's first half is devoted to characterization: we learn, for instance, that Reiko has periodic pangs of guilt for spending more time at work than with her son – and that care-free professor Ryiuji may be having an affair with his teaching assistant. The first point works to layer an additional level of anxiety onto Reiko's need to solve the mystery (has her negligence as a single parent doomed her son?) The second feels more like a plot detail more elaborately addressed in the book or movie. Despite the distancing look of his figures, Inagaki's art has its darkly evocative moments: Reiko's visitation, a scene where Ryiuji seems to see his ex-wife being stalked by a barefoot bleeding figure, an effectively rendered murder by a well and our duo's attempt at recovering a body from that self-same well. That last scene, which comprises over twenty pages, is almost enough to make me ignore the artwork (the page where a rotting corpse rises from the water is a real Tales from the Crypt moment) – as is a scene where wiseacre Ryiuji sees a menacing figure shambling from within a TV screen toward him. Still can't help thinking that it all would be more effective if an artist like Junji (Uzumaki) Ito were handling the artwork, though. Would I recommend The Ring to other manga dabblers as their first full introduction to this story? Probably not. The presentation doesn't convey the same sense of growing dread that I suspect is maintained in both the original pic and its American remake. Instead, it alternates between brightly lit scenes of characters talking to each other – and dark gray scenes of scary spectres stalking 'em. Perhaps manga Ring isn't so removed from those old hokey Dell movie comics, after all. . . # | Tuesday, December 02, 2003 ( 12/02/2003 09:56:00 AM ) Bill S. WHO SEZ THIS ISN'T THE MARVEL AGE OF MESSED-UP MASTERWORKS? – Received a copy of Marvel Masterworks: Amazing Spider-Man - Volume Three in the mail yesterday. The hardbound, part of the company's push to re-release a full series of archival reprints from the original Marvel Age (the first run is way out of print and commanding eBay collector prices), contains the 1965 Lee & Ditko comics from AS-M #20-30, plus the second Amazing Spider-Man Annual. I own copies of the first two volumes in this series, though each is from a different abortive attempt at reprinting the original Masterworks series with snazzier covers. My volume one is the second edition with a more garish "comic booky" dust cover; two is a second edition with a silvery cover frame. Both volumes have appeared in third editions with the current cover scheme. The new volume three opens, as I noted, with the story contents from issue #20 ("The Coming of the Scorpion!") Unfortunately, the second edition volume two also contains that same issue. The most recent edition stops with issue #19 and adds the first Spider-Man Annual, which was MIA in the hardbound I own. Kind of irritating, actually: buying another edition of volume two is budgetarily imprudent, particularly just to re-read that first annual story. (Am I right in remembering that this was a story involving Peter Parker's parents?) Perhaps I need head to Barnes & Noble for one of their budget B&N imprint Masterwork paperbacks. Marvel's management of its hardback archive line has consistently been inconsistent: for all the company's ballyhoo about its landmark role in changing the face of genre comics, it's been pretty loose about keeping its full-color legacy available. Contrast this with DC's Archives series, which has remained constant and harmonically formatted, and Marvel comes up even shorter. I recognize that from a company perspective, archival material is more of a sideline than the primary business focus (which is selling movie properties, right?) But if you're gonna go to the effort of assaying an archival Masterworks series, then quit screwing around with it! NOTE: Per Neilalien's recommendation, I decided to utilize a "cite" tag on the book title above. It shows as italicized text on Internet Explorer - are there any browsers where it doesn't? ADDENDUM: Alan David Doane reminds me via email that the first Annual was a Sinister Six slugfest. Soon as I read the name of Spidey’s nemeses, I could instantly recall Dikto's cover to that issue. Annual #2 features the first Spider-Man/Doctor Strange team-up, incidentally, which makes for a nice contrast against the most recent Amazing Spider-Man team-up by Straczynski & Romita Jr. # | Monday, December 01, 2003 ( 12/01/2003 03:35:00 PM ) Bill S. DUST BOWL STURM UND DRANG – First season of HBO's Carnivale wrapped last night: with a fire and seeming suicide, two apparent murders, the resurrection of Adrienne Barbeau and a lotta religio-ranting from demon minister Brother Justin (Clancy Brown). If this – as midget carnival boss Samson (Michael J. Anderson) told us in the opener – is about the apocalyptic battle 'tween good and evil, then much of the intent behind this opening season sees to've been to get viewers wondering, "Who the hell are the forces for Good?" Young carnie neophyte Ben Hawkins (Nick Stahl) turns out to be a fugitive for murder – and none too pleasant besides – while his seeming opposite Justin has revealed levels of self-doubt and a deep-rooted need for real spirituality that we never would've guessed was in him when we first met the guy. As one of HBO's Sunday night series, Carnivale hasn't gotten the same critical hosannas that fare like The Sopranos, Oz or even Six Feet Under have received: too removed from "contemporary reality" and self-serious, I suspect, a bit too deliberate in its Lynchian pacing. There were times, admittedly, when all the series seemed to be about was delivering portentous visions and pronouncements about what was gonna happen. I liked the show's stubborn insistence on moving at its own speed, though I might've been less patient if I wasn't so enamored with its carnival setting. Don't know if the Depression Era fantasy has been renewed by HBO yet. While I'd like it to be, I have to acknowledge that my life won't be ruined if the show stops dead in its tracks. Unlike the final fate of Twin Peaks' agent Cooper, none of the series' characters bloomed enough over the first season to make me worry that much about 'em. (Stahl's Hawkins actively resisted character development, which put the bulk of the forward movement on Clea Duvall's sad psychic’s daughter, Sofie.) Anderson's Samson has admittedly been a lot of fun, though: stripped of symbolic restraints, the guy turns out to be an entertaining actor. I'd gladly watch another season just for the chance to hear him speak more carnie lingo. . . NOTE: Johnny B offers his own smart take on the season finale. # | |
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