Spider-Geddon-It? Are You Geddon It?

Remember when only DC Comics did alternate universe stories? Yeah, me, too. Now it's all this.

Spider-Geddon is a five issue series from Marvel 'We're All About Alternate Universes Now' Comics. Once again, there is a crisis that requires several alternate universe versions of Spider-Man to team up and punch at said crisis. And punch they do. And make quips. And hang out with one another. Even for a Spider-Man comic, there is a lot of hanging out.

The crisis this time is (once again) the Inheritors, a collection of goth douchebag vampires that subsist on incarnations of the Spider-Totem. Brought back to life accidentally by Otto Octavius (who is now the Superior Spider-Man), they are ready to feed once more.

I love alternate universe stories. I also love Spider-Man. I may not have loved this, but I did really enjoy it. Just as long as I didn't think about it too much.

What I liked: all the various versions of Spider-Man. From all the variations on a theme that exist on Earth 616 alone (Scarlet Spider, Miles Morales Spider-Man, Silk, Spider-Girl, Spider-Woman, Superior Spider-Man) to the alternate Earths that are apparently slacking and only provide one Spider-Man, (for the most part--there is a husband and wife team of Spider-Family, and an uncle and nephew version, and, oh, you get the idea), I enjoy them all.

The story is ridiculous. If the all the alternate Spider-Men weren't enough to draw you in---(the Japanese Spider-Man and his giant robot? Check. The hero from the recent Sony video game? Double check.) the story also digs deep into Marvel lore, pulling something that premiered way back in Micronauts to help with the final battle. I'm surprised that a kitchen sink wasn't seen flying in the background at some point.

Spider-Geddon also quietly lets you know that if you want THE FULL STORY you should pick up all the additional titles that spun out of this. So, even though I passed on picking up the tie in issues of Peter Parker, The Spectacular Spider-Man, Spider-Girls, Spider-Force, and Vault of Spiders, I did pick  up one issue of Spider-Gwen: Ghost Spider. It was fun, but didn't really add much to what was going in the main title. I don't think my enjoyment of the main story suffered that much by exercising financial restraint.

The only thing I remain ambivalent about, really, is just this multiversal approach to Spider-Man. I liked the idea that a one in a million thing happened to some nerdy student, and that he decided to use his newfound powers for good. The idea that this is a universal constant takes away a lot of that magic. The idea that all across the uncounted dimensions different versions of the same person all gain spider-powers and lose a loved one--and usually have names and relatives that correspond to Parker and his family's names--is something I applaud for its sheer comic book dumbness. But when you consider this part of the Spider-Man mythos--along with Webs of Destiny tied to the workings of the cosmos-I'm not sure that it really hangs together that well. The Spider-Man narrative framework can't hold that much weight.

And I think the writers may realize that. At the end of Spider-Geddon, when all the dimension hopping has come to an end, Spider-Gwen says:

"To be honest, it's probably better to put some brakes on it for awhile."

Then she adds:

"Unless there's a crisis."

I smiled at that.

Spider-Geddon was good at providing smiles. Overall, it was a fun comic, but like Gwen says, it's best to leave this idea alone for a while.

Zombies, Manga, and Body Horror: I Am A Hero

One of the tropes of zombie stories I had never noticed before was that the main protagonists in most of these stories are sane.

Part of the narrative arc of many zombie stories is just how the main character--usually an everyday person with a dull job and comfortable life--deals with the horror and unreality of the dead rising and feasting on the living. From Resident Evil, the remake of Dawn of The Dead and the small, rarely heard about comic and television show The Walking Dead, the trope remains the same.

But imagine if the hero wasn't sane? Kengo Hanazawa did,  and illustrated that idea with the lead character in the thrilling and very disturbing I Am A Hero.

Hideo Suzuki is a failed manga artist who messed up his one chance at the spotlight and now gets by doing support work on another artist's manga.  He suffers from a cacophony of mental disturbances, including OCD and auditory and visual hallucinations. He's in a troubled relationship with another artist, living in a cramped bachelor apartment and putting in long hours on another creator's work. He can barely get through a single day without a crisis. Every single hour for him is a struggle.

And then the dead begin to rise.

Dark Horse has collected two Japanese collections for this initial volume, and it's a wise decision, since Hanazawa spends several chapters detailing Suzuki's life without any undead horror. Which isn't to say there isn't plenty of horror in those chapters. Aside from the internal tribulations Suzuki endures, he's surrounded by people who seem just as mentally precarious as he is. In fact, everyone in this story is dealing with something.

All the time spent showing Suzuki's life makes the impact of the zombie aspect of the story all the more horrifying. Since Suzuki is so introverted--and the people he works with are equally so--the realization that something is wrong is slow to dawn on them. From small snippets on quickly ignored newscasts to strange figures glimpsed at night,  it's clear that the supernatural horror is present from the first chapter, but no one really notices until it's far, far too late.

As for the zombies, Hanazawa changes the expected trope here as well. Yes, they attack the living, but there is another degree of horror, one that gives each confrontation an added  depth of sadness. These are not anonymous monsters, but horrifically ravaged victims.

I Am A Hero Volume One is disturbing and horrific, but with a hero that makes you just sit back and go, "Oh, no. Not him." The sad truth is that Hideo Suzuki was a hero long before this story began, simply because he got through a single day.

My Favourite Film of 2018

Always late to any game, I felt the need to post the films I enjoyed the most in 2018. Which was almost two weeks ago, so my adherence to deadlines continues.

Random thoughts on those I saw:

Aquaman was pretty and technically impressive, but had a script that felt so stupid it had to be deliberate. It was the second James Wan film I saw last year--the other being The Conjuring 2--which again showed Wan's technical prowess with spinning cameras and methodically thought out scenes, but also had a script that seemed more functional than emotionally engaging. 

The Ritual was another horror film that started off so well, focusing on the after effects of a man's cowardice and the impact it had on his friendships before quickly degrading into a Viking cover of The Hills Have Eyes. It's almost as if there's a studio memo that says films can start off original and thought provoking, but they'd better heel over to something audiences have seen a thousand times before by the time the movie hits the seventy minute mark.

The Girl With All The Gifts was a good take on the please-let-it-end zombie genre that stayed true to its themes and didn't lie to the audience with a happy ending. 

Happy Death Day was a superb low budget horror movie, taking the premise of Groundhog Day and applying a serial (?) killer storyline to it. It had an engaging heroine (Jessica Rothe) and a script that allowed her to figure things out fairly quickly. A minimum of gore, a fun script, and a low budget can still make a very good horror film. Here's the proof.

Annihilation may have come across as a more powerful film if I hadn't read the novel it was based on. As it was, I still enjoyed this film very much, outside of the ending. It's not so much based on the Jeff Vandermeer novel as it picks and chooses what elements to take from it and from the second novel in the Southern Reach Trilogy, Authority. I like Natalie Portman, and she is very good in this. I think I would have enjoyed a second film in this universe if Hollywood wasn't so determined to smother intelligent films.

Mission Impossible: Fallout was just exhausting. I am a genuine fan of Tom Cruise and of this series, and this is clearly the most bold and challenging in the franchise. I still think Ghost Protocol is my favourite, but Fallout does it's damnedest to push it from the dais. Cruise just never stops in this film, and the stunts and chases are so magnificent the studio should have provided an intermission and a cool drink to let the audience gather itself before the next onslaught. A well crafted film with a script that assumes you're paying attention--when you're not wincing at the ordeals Cruise is enduring for your entertainment dollar.

Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse is that rarest of things--a superhero film that acknowledges that someone in the audience may have read the comics. There are so many well placed nods towards comic book fans in this film that they made me smile as much as the movie did. Even despite legal contracts, Sony placing this story in an alternate universe where other alternate universe versions of Spider-Man arrive was bold, as was making Spider-Gwen the main supporting character, if not shared lead. This was a well written, well crafted, just damn fun movie that glories in the joy of the Spider-Man character. 

Bohemian Rhapsody had a bravado performance by Rami Malek and a family friendly history of one of rock's greatest bands. I enjoyed it, but it was not the cinematic masterpiece that awards shows seems to think it was. It was serviceable and gave audiences a great night out and a chance to hum along to some beloved music. 

So having said all that,  my favourite film of 2018 was Mandy.

Mandy felt like a spiritual sequel to 1981's Heavy Metal, kinda. It was also a strange movie that exists in a universe where weird, horrific supernatural shit just happens, where cults drive around dark woods in vans, and where taking revenge first means making an axe that looks like it belongs on the cover of a Dungeons and Dragons manual. Mandy was just so weird and disturbing and sad that I simply could not look away. It was such a rare creature that not to celebrate it is to let something precious fade away. It is definitely not for everyone, and that isn't to say I have some higher cultural appreciation, because I surely don't. It just hit me like no other film did this year, and that's why it's my favourite film of the year.

Aquaman

In this age of media blizzards surrounding us at all times, it's difficult to approach anything without a least some preconceived notion. So I came to Aquaman having heard from Esquire Magazine that, compared to most of the other DC movies, this was a 'fucking masterpiece'.

As glorious a line as that is, Aquaman is not a masterpiece. It is visually arresting and often very beautiful, all of which can be laid at the exhausted feet of the costume designers, the CGI animators, and director James Wan. These elements did not need to be as good as they were to get asses in seats. There are a handful of shots that must have been a nightmare to craft, and I sat there in the theatre taken aback by the care in evidence on-screen.

The script isn't as good, unfortunately. It rambles along like an amusement park ride, putting words on the screen to get us from one spectacle to another. There was an interaction between Aquaman and Mera early on that was genuinely funny, but for the most part,  the script relies too much on crowd pleasing one liners and shouting about this and that.

Jason Momoa is fine in this version of Aquaman, which owes very little to the comics and a lot to Marvel's take on Thor. He's a cheerful bro, eager to have a drink and not too great on the uptake. Momoa has as much charisma as he does muscles and hair, so he does a superb job of winning the audience over.  Amber Heard gives us a stern and angry Mera,  a woman who seems to be constantly teetering on the edge of Fed Up and Dismissive.  The scenes between her and Momoa sometimes run a little flat, and their inevitable falling in love feels enforced and ridiculous. (There's an entire section that takes in the Sahara--yes, a movie about water kingdoms has a major section in a desert--where Heard and Momoa have to carry the entire segment, and unfortunately don't.)

But despite the script and the acting stumbles, I really quite enjoyed Aquaman. It's gloriously dumb, and knows it. It amps the stupid so well. Everyone buys into the film, and plays it straight, which is the only way to make gloriously dumb work.  There is a solid attempt at world building here, so much so that I was actually interested in the genesis of Atlantis and its politics, which is something the comics have never done for me.

I am genuinely exhausted with superhero films, but I still find myself curious about them. As such, Aquaman entertained me, partly because it doesn't really feel like a superhero movie. Wan takes a very fantasy approach to the genre, which works well for a character many people have never cared about.  Without someone like Wan at the helm, this could have been a Razzie level shitshow. It's also great that there are no connections to the on life support DCU movie-verse, aside from one line regarding the Justice League film. This is a fun standalone, which is perhaps the approach Warner Brothers should take with future films. Leave the trash heap of a shared universe burning in the dumpster, and just dazzle us with fun and stupid.

Ubik

Mindfuck would be the first word I'd use to describe this, followed closely by brilliant. After a pause of a few seconds, horrific would come trotting along the path of contemplation of this novel.

Ubik shows us an alternate world where telepaths are such a threat to privacy that money can be made combating their unwanted intrusions. The people who can nullify telepaths are called inertials, and one such 'prudence organization' composed of inertials takes a job to deal with telepaths pestering a business on the moon. Things do not go well.

And that's as far as I'll go explaining Ubik. Even though it's a 50 year old novel, Ubik is partly a mystery, and discovering the depths of that mystery are part of the enjoyment. I will say that this novel gave me nightmares for the better part of a week. It wasn't so much any scenes in particular, just the feelings of dread and growing horror that took hold in me.

So, the perfect Christmas book, then!

A Maniac, Maniac On The Netflix Floor

At least Maniac tried.

Based on a Norwegian television series, this brave Netflix adaptation really deserves nothing but congratulations. It is anathema to challenge viewers these days with anything that isn't a family drama or biography about people being framed for crimes by lazy policemen.  And because it tried to be different, Maniac gets my respect. I just wish it had tried a wee bit harder.

Maniac is set in alternate present/future where technology gets its chief inspiration from the 1970s. Computers are large and chunky, and the design aesthetic  of all tech should come with its own Earth, Wind and Fire soundtrack. Advertising has metastasized to the point where living people follow you around telling you about products you should buy.  Hacking personal records isn't something done by shady operatives in dark rooms--you can have this done by going to seedy storefronts. Robots exist, but only to clean up dog shit.


In this world we meet Annie Landsberg (Emma Stone) and Owen Milgrim (Jonah Hill), who both sign up for a pharmaceutical test of a new therapeutic drug. Both have different reasons for doing so--Anna is addicted to one of the drugs associated with the test and needs a fix, and Owen needs to make some money. It's important to note that both suffer psychological issues: Anna is anti-social and grieving, while Owen is schizophrenic, has severe issues with determining what is real,  and is dealing with potentially harmful family drama.

Along with other testees, Owen and Anna undergo the effects of the new drug, which propel users into dream worlds to help deal with their issues. These dream worlds vary, from opulent decadence mystery nights, soul dead suburbia, all the way to third rate fantasy worlds.  Owen and Anna start meeting up in these worlds, which is thought to be impossible. As the tests continue, both Anna and Owen have to deal with the things they encounter, while outside the pharmaceutical company deals with a breakdown of its own.

Like The  Haunting of  Hill House, Maniac starts off telling one story and ends up finishing with another.

The world set forth in Maniac is fascinating. It's very much THE FUTURE as seen from the late Seventies. The little bits we see of it as Annie goes about trying to get more of the therapy drug shows a crass dystopia that feels very PKD. But whereas something like Blade Runner dealt with larger issues of their respective worlds, Maniac eschews the world it created to focus on the emotional journeys of Annie and Owen.

Unfortunately, only Annie's story felt interesting and felt tied to this world. Owen's story didn't need to be in a science fiction universe, and as such, feels unnecessary. Perhaps this is down to Emma Stone's performance, which at some points makes you laugh and at others makes your eyes do that weird watering thing, especially regarding the grief tearing her life apart. Hill's performance is much more subdued, for whatever reason. You feel sorry for Owen, but you feel for Annie.

As well, there is an unctuous subplot regarding the pharmaceutical company that should have been left on the cutting room floor. It veers like a drunken driver from scenery chewing hamminess to clumsy satire, if one understands satire to involve lots of shouting.

Maniac begins as an interesting science fiction story, wobbles around, shouts a bit, and finally ends as feel good drama about feelings. It's worth watching, especially for Emma Stone's performance and the world seen in the early episodes. Maniac made me think of The OA, which was a glorious, metal spewing car wreck, but it at least had the courage to be that glorious, metal spewing car wreck.

Maniac seems to lose its car wreck courage at the half way point. But at least it tried.

Kick Ass The New Girl

I always feel a bit guilty buying a Mark Millar comic. Partly it's because much of the work I've read from him relies heavily on shock value, and shouldn't I be above such things at my age? And partly it's because shouldn't I be supporting struggling creators and endeavours?  (Says the man who drops a small fortune on Marvel and DC Comics every month, ahem). 

Emotions and reasoning rarely walk hand in hand.

So I did lay down my hard earned cash and purchased this collection. And, unsurprisingly, I enjoyed it quite a bit.

This time around, Kick Ass is an ex-soldier called Patience Lee, who returns home from a tour of Afghanistan to find her life has gone to shit: her husband has left her for a bimbo, she has no child support and two kids to feed. She lands a job as a waitress and tries to get her degree, but it's a losing battle. So she decides to use her rather extensive military training to rob local criminals, dressing up as the hero Kick Ass.

Millar's script follows the safe path of a solid movie pitch. This version is extremely movie/ Netflix friendly, with none of the superhero parody of the first Kick-Ass series, focusing instead on Patience's vigilante actions and its consequences. As movies go, it's inexpensive. In fact, hearing that this may be the focus of the next Kick-Ass movie comes as no surprise to me. Kick-Ass: The New Girl feels to have been written to allay the fears of producers and money-men who quiver at the gazillion dollar budgets of Marvel blockbusters.

But that doesn't mean The New Girl is not an enjoyable comic. Patience is an interesting character in that at no point does she come across as a victim. In fact, she reminds me quite a bit of Jack Reacher in her ability to assess situations and formulate the proper response. This badassery is juxtaposed with scenes of her as a loving mother that oddly don't ring false. Patience is both a mother and mean fucking killing machine, a sort of New Mexico female version of Liam Neeson from the Taken films.

And yes, there is the expected Millar scenes of shock and extreme violence. Eyes don't fare very well in this series. And for a story that relies on a higher degree of realism to add weight to those shocks,I'm not sure just how many punches to the head a human being can take and still function.

My only real complaint with this series, though,  is that it ends rather too quickly. Millar and Romita apparently are not doing the second series, which is unfortunate. It would be interesting to see where Patience goes after the conclusion of this collection, but I'm not sure I want to see anyone else create it.