Banes of My Existence: Kevin Smith

I suppose it was inevitable that something would set me off to rant about Kevin Smith here. It's probably a surprise it's taken this long; after all, I've been ranting about him for years. It's fair to say that I hate his work, in that I've hated every movie of his I've ever seen or comic book that I've ever read. I've often wondered if I'd hate him personally if our paths were ever to cross. He seems like a nice enough fellow. We'd certainly have plenty to talk about. I also wonder if it's possible to be friends with someone if you despise their work; I guess it's like dating a girl even though you think she's a twit. And I did once chase after a girl that thought there should be a Constitutional amendment passed requiring every American to see Pearl Harbor. She, though, was a helluva lot hotter then Kevin Smith.

I'm going to go on a quick tangent (or continue the tangent) here and tell a story about my friend Travis. He was talking to some girl once at a party, and she was telling him about her boyfriend, and how they have such a great connection, like all the same things, ect. And she said something like "he likes ice cream and puppies, just like me!" And Travis, bless him, told her how stupid that was, because every body likes ice cream and puppies. And she got mad at him and, I think, tossed his hat in the pool. But what impressed me was that Travis did something that men in our twenties never do, which is call out a girl we're hoping to pick up on something inane she said. I have the utmost respect for him for that.

I want to make one thing clear here: I'm not one of those Johnny-come-lately Kevin Smith haters. I've always hated his work. No, I did not think Clerks was funny, or keenly observant, and I was, in fact, working at a convenience store at the time. Mallrats I did not see, but I did see Chasing Amy, oh so many times. I was working at the Ritz Five in Philly, the art house chain, and Chasing Amy must have played there for about seven years. By the end of its' run I couldn't even bring myself to walk into the theater while it was playing. I've gone around and around with people on this, but what I always come back to in criticizing the film is that it is so ineptly made. Let me give you an example: there's a scene at the end of the movie where Jason Lee is talking to a fan at a comic book convention. The scene basically cuts between shots of the two of them, with the fan's monologue running uninterrupted between shots. Except that the background audio is different between each shot. This might not seem like a big deal; but, for a guy making his third film, it's inexcusable.

And then there's Dogma, the last Kevin Smith film I've ever seen. Against my better judgment, I allowed my brother to talk me into watching it, with promises that it was a very smart deconstruction of organized religion. No, it is not. It's a shambles of a film, confirming that Smith still, after now four feature films, does not understand the first thing about storytelling, and has no ability as a director to illicit a compelling performance from an actor. So after that I swore that I'd never give the guy another chance, and that was it. And, really, it hasn't been that hard to avoid him. Sure, the Jay and Silent Bob movie *shudder* was a hit, but Jersey Girl pretty much exposed his limitations, and he's never really recovered. Certainly, the bloom is off the Kevin Smith: filmmaker rose.

And then... there's comics. I guess that, if Kevin Smith is a terrible filmmaker, he's at least only a very bad comic book writer. His dialogue doesn't read quite so stilted as it sounds coming out of an actor's mouth. And he certainly knows comics, unlike some of the other Hollywood bigshots that slum it up for Marvel, DC or Image now and then. I certainly feel, as a comics fan, that we're expected to be thrilled when even the most minor of celebrities does comics, because even the most minor of celebrities is bigger then anyone in comics. So Seth Green's comic is about frat boys with super powers? Who cares, it's by Seth Green! From Austin Powers!

You get the idea. Smith, at least, really did seem to be committed to being a part of the comics industry-- at first. He did successfully relaunch both Daredevil and Green Arrow, though, so I suppose that's something, even if the former did result in the death of a longtime supporting character at the hands of a minor villain, and the plot of the latter revolved around a grandfather raping his grandson. Yes, you read that right.

But his own inability to complete projects soon destroyed his reputation. There was his Spider Man/ Black Cat mini- series that had a literal wait of years between issues. Then there was the Daredevil mini- series that only saw one issue released before Smith just stopped writing it (that one issue, by the way, is among the worst comics I've ever read). And that, really, was it, until DC Comics decided a few years ago to cash in on whatever remaining cred Smith's name has by letting the guy write some Batman. And the first series, Cacophony, was relatively well received.
Well enough, at least, for Smith to do a sequel, The Widening Gyre, originally intended for six issues, but now apparently to be twelve.

And this, finally, is what brings me here today. Because, frankly, Smith had fallen so far off my radar that I was only vaguely aware this thing was even coming out. But this review here really does a nice job bringing me up to speed. And, please, go read it for yourself, because I really don't want to spoil any of the awesome, awesome twists described there. You should have the same thrill of discovery I did when you learn that Kevin Smith had Batman tell a story about... no, no, see for yourself.

But I would really like to share with you a quote from this interview with Smith, that I think explains a lot: " I’m not telling you anything new…I’m far more creative now, you know. I’ve been writing this Batman: The Widening Gyre miniseries, and I’m stoned all the time when I’m writing it. And, I swear, I’ll write it, and then, it’s not so much blackout, but forget, so much so that the next morning, I go to read what I wrote, and it’s, like, I’m that fuckin’ little cobbler and elves came and fuckin' wrote it in the night, because I’m, like, "This is better than anything I’ve ever written before." I mean, like, I’ve done comics, but this is way better."

That really wraps it up nicely, doesn't it?

Jonah Hex Makes Me Sad

I didn't see Jonah Hex, which, judging from the box office totals, makes me just like each and every one of you. In five weeks it's barely made $10 million dollars, and is now only playing on 65 screens nationwide. With a budget of $47 million dollars, that's a pretty awful return. It's the type of movie that gets people fired, and will, hopefully, keep director Jimmy Hayward from ever working again. And here's something interesting: I just looked at this guy's Wikipedia page, and he used to work for Pixar. Guess he didn't learn much about storytelling there....

None of that matters so much, except now the character of Jonah Hex will be forever tainted by this mess. And that's a terrible shame, because Jonah Hex is a terrific character, probably the preeminent western character in comics. Moreover, the current Jonah Hex series, by writers Jimmy Palmiotti and Justin Gray and illustrated by a host of artists, is fantastic, probably my favorite comic book currently being published. It's also a fairly low-selling comic, and it's long been assumed that the book was safe because DC wanted to have a Jonah Hex comic on the stands when the movie came out. That certainly worked out well.

I have no doubt that Jonah Hex would make for a great movie; he's a gritty, complex anti-hero that carries death with him wherever he goes. Hex (especially in the current comic) is basically just a Clint Eastwood spaghetti western; it should translate to the screen seamlessly. Heck, given the character's tragic past and brooding nature, a more serious tone akin to Eastwood's Unforgiven would not be inappropriate.

What is inappropriate is to give Hex some kind of wonky power to reanimate the dead, a Morgan Freeman-style weapons smith, a superweapon right out of Wild Wild West, and, of course, Megan Fox. It's a Jonah Hex movie in name, and scars, only.

What really boggles my mind is how poorly DC Comics have allowed their properties to translate into movies. Even ignoring the success blood rival Marvel has had, DC's track record is astonishingly poor. Seriously, excepting the Batman movies (and even they have the two Joel Schumacher films), what's a good movie based on a DC Comic? The first two Superman movies are fine (and I'm of the camp that liked Superman Returns, mostly). Beyond that... what? V for Vendetta? Well, it was better then Watchmen. Conversely, look at the absolute disasters based on DC Comics' characters that have shamefully made their way into Razzie contention: Catwoman, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, and, now, Jonah Hex.

It's particularly appalling because DC is owned by a movie studio, Warner Brothers. Please, don't give me that old "right hand doesn't know what the left is doing in a big company" song- and- dance. DC and Time Warner should want to make the very best films possible, based on the characters that they own, because it's an investment. Now, DC has had success in generating interest in the comics source material (a lot more then Marvel), which is great. But what they don't seem to get is that a poor translation will permanently stain the property. If a movie comes out based on anything- be it a comic, book, video game, whatever- and it's incoherent and asinine, people will assume that the source material is incoherent and asinine. Don't believe me? Here's what Roger Ebert wrote about Jonah Hex: "It's based on some DC Comics characters, which may explain the way the plot jumps around. We hear a lot about graphic novels, but this is more of a graphic anthology of strange occult ideas."

Thanks to Frank Miller, it's going to take years before Will Eisner's work on The Spirit will ever be viewed with anything but skepticism by the general public, and Jonah Hex will probably end up getting the comic canceled and sending the character back into hibernation. Mommas, don't let your cowboys grow up to be in bad movies.

There's Too Much to Talk About

There's like four things that I want to write about, but none with any kind of depth, so I'm just going to throw them all together.

1. Hey, the Grammys happened. Everyone wave your little flags for the Grammys. This just reminds me how blissfully ignorant I am about contemporary music these days. I didn't even know that Beyonce had a new album out. Unless they were celebrating I am...Sasha Fierce! I don't know if she writes it with the exclamation point at the end, but it looks like it belongs there, doesn't it? I just love it when pop stars publicly admit to having secret fantasy identities with preposterous names. What is she, eight?

Anyway, I'm sure that everyone that won a Grammy sucks. They always do.

2. Speaking of awards shows, the Oscar noms came out today. Just in time for DVD cover printing season! I don't like this whole "nominating ten movies for best picture" thing. It waters down the whole thing. It's like adding an extra round to the playoffs. Precious: Based on the Novel ‘Push’ by Sapphire is the cinimatic equivilent of the 8-8 team that backs into the playoffs.

To me, the wild card is Inglorious Bastards. Perhaps I'll post more about it later, but I think it's the most frustrating movie to come out in ages. Parts are brilliant. As gripping as anything I've seen on screen. And parts are just no damn good; basically, all the parts that actually feature the Bastards. If you were to sit down with this movie and edit out every scene Brad Pitt's in, it would be a masterpiece, or at least closer to a masterpiece.

But it should probably win, because it was a weak year for movies and there's really nothing remotely close. Keeping the playoffs analogy from above going, Inglorious Bastards is the cinimatic equivalent of the seeming juggernaut that shows lots of flaws, but no one else is good enough to take advantage, so they win the title.

Couple more quick predictions: George Clooney should win Best Actor. Tarentino should not win Best Director, no matter what IB does in the Best Picture category, but Christoph Waltz simply must win. And if Sandra Bullock wins Best Actress for The Blind Side, the Kodak Theater should collapse upon itself into a sigularity.

3. Lost. Is. Back. Tonight. I'll get to that. If you really can't wait, you can read what my buddy James wrote. Though I'll warn you: it's long. I haven't even read the damn thing yet.

But first, I want to talk about 24. It seems that my worst fears have come true, and that the Curse of the Even Seasons is in full effect. This season has just been lame beyond words. The main plot feels like it still hasn't gotten started. The big bad guy, Arab Jason Schwartzman, has spent the last two hours offscreen in some kind of Russo-Islamic orgy. Every thing going on in the big peace negotiations with President Bulldog Face and Arab Joe Pesci is tremendously boring. Now, Arab Joe Pesci is acting all crazy because Arab Jason Schwartzman betrayed him, so the British and Germans might pull out! What a crazy twist!

And then there's the Starbuck Subplot. Oh, the Starbuck Subplot. It's so bad, I don't even know where to begin. Look, I just don't care that Dana Thrace's real name is actually Jenny Craig. I've no connection to her, and just because she's played by an actress that was on a show in which I did care about her, doesn't mean I care about her here. It's not a transitive property.

And this whole plotline is so distracting from the main story. It basically says "hey, even the CTU agents aren't really focused on what's going on with the Russians, so why should you be?" It might have worked, if the show were starting cold, with just some intel to work, but there's already been a terrorist attack. Shouldn't people seem a little, I dunno, motivated? Anyone?

I do like burnt-out Renee Walker, though. She's, like, a billion times hotter and more interesting then normal Renee Walker. And, see, her storyline is working because we care about her. Why is it so !@#$ hard for the 24 braintrust to figure this out?

So. Lost. Is back. I said that already. But it bears repeating. Lost. Tonight. And there are enough spoilers out there so that we have some idea of what's going on, and the Lindleoff and Cuse have said that by the end of tonight we'll finally have enough information to make accurate theories. All that is good.

I don't have too much to say right now; I'm sure I will tomorrow. But I just want to put this in print right now: The Island is not actually an island. It's a sophisticated time machine designed to look like an island. That's why it can be "moved", and that's why it has a mechanism built into its' center. And Jacob and his enemy aren't gods, they're time travelers. For some reason, they can't hurt each other directly; that's why Jacob's enemy had to find a loophole.

At least, that's my two cents. We'll see, right?

Stuff We Watched: Whatever Works

We just finished watching this about an hour ago, and I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep until I sit down and get this goddamn blog post out of my head. I'll just toss and turn for a few hours, going over the things I would say about it, if I had a forum with which to make my voice heard. Which now I do, so at least I can get this all out and maybe get a little sleep like a normal person.

I knew, when I put this sucker at the top of my Netflix queue, that it had not been very well received. But I was intrigued enough by the thought of Larry David walking around in a Woody Allen movie that figured, what the hell. I have to admit that I am something of a Larry David mark; he has a... well, presence isn't the right word. It's more that there's never been anyone else on camera remotely like him, not even Woody Allen himself. In the words of Mel Brooks, there's something about that middle-aged bald guy that thrilling.

Here's the thing you should know about Woody Allen movies, though, and keep this in mind the next time you think about seeing one: he makes a movie about once a year. That's a pretty rapid pace. Think about how long it takes to make a movie. And sure, Woody Allen movies don't take as long to film, and there sure as hell isn't a lot of post-producion done on them, but still. A movie a year. And he's been doing this for a long time, meaning he's made A LOT of movies.

And not all will be good. I often wonder if even the most creative of us have a finite source of creativity from which to draw from; yes, like a well, and remember that wells run dry. Woody Allen, I think, doesn't go through the normal process most of us go through in developing an idea, finding out if it's worthwhile. No, he just turns them right into movies. At that pace, how can he not? And who is going to tell him that maybe this one isn't so hot, and should stay in the desk drawer?

Whatever Works is the story of a middle-age New York Jew that falls for a woman much younger then himself. Manhatten it is not. David's character, Boris Yetzen-something, is supposedly a genius-level physicist that almost won a Nobel Prize once upon a time, though frankly the movie really doesn't do anything with this background. We never learn anything about the work Boris did that brought him to the top of his field, and David sure doesn't do a lot to sell that he's an expert in Quantum Mechanics. Really, the movie would be better off if he just thought he was smarter then everybody else, without having ever achieved anything more then made children cry playing chess.

The movie would be better off. That's a phrase that goes through my head a lot as I think about it. Because there are so many things that could have happened, that you expect to happen, that wouldn't have made the movie any better, probably, but would have made it less infuriating. Mainly, the ingenuine, played by Even Rachel Wood, who used to be on a show I have a certain fondness for called Once & Again that should really only have been watched by middle-age women. But I digress. She plays a young woman, fresh off the bus (or something) from Mississippi, with hardly a brain in her head but a heart on her sleeve.

But here's the thing about this girl, and I suppose I should say *SPOILER WARNING* here, although I beseech you to not see this movie, and just read what I'm about to type instead: I was sure she was a con artist. Her performance was so bad, her character so phony, that I was sure it was going to turn out that she was a junkie on the run from Queens that had found an easy mark and a comfortable place to lay low. Well, perhaps not that drastic. But surely- surely- we could not be meant to take this character seriously, not with her catfish and beauty pagents and story of her first time... you know *blush*. This can not be a real character.

When her mother shows up out of the blue, fresh from having left her father, I thought: here we go. This is her partner, mayber really her mother, and Boris actually has money stashed away, I mean look at how he's living. He's clearly not spending anything. But she'll have real feelings for him, not love but feelings nonetheless, and in the end she'll tell him the truth, leaving him heartbroken but a little wiser. Learning that even he, as brilliant as he knows himself to be, wants to believe that people are whom they say they are. Maybe, just maybe, he learns a little something about life.

This is not what happens. Her mother, it turns out, it something of an idiot savant photographer, and becomes an avant- garde artist, and shacks up with two men, and then her father shows up and- I kid you not- realizes that he's been gay all his life. See, because everybody that lives in the Red States is actually a repressed free spirit, and if they could just somehow find their way to Manhatten, they could discover their real selves, and everything would work out in the end. See, Republicans, see?

Woody Allen's career goes through this funny little cycle where he makes several lousy movies in a row, and everyone thinks he's lost it, and then he goes and makes something brilliant and everyone thinks he's back. It was only a few years ago that he made Match Point, which is one of the five best films he ever made. If he could just find a way to not make these movies in between, just say "no, that's a stupid idea, and anyway, I've already covered that theme like seven times in my career" we'd all be better for it. Thing is, everything he does has an audience. When I worked at the Ritz Theater in Philadelphia a decade ago, we would get a new Woody Allen movie every year, like clockwork. And the same senior citizens would come out for it; they wouldn't even adk for the movie by name, just say "one for Woody". I always wondered why he even bothered going to the trouble of naming his movies, when he could have just gone with My New Movie by W. Allen and been equally successful. Of course, most of that audience is probably dead by now.....

Whatever Works is probably the worst Woody Allen movie I've ever seen. It's definitely the worst episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm.