Mari Ness

New York Times decides that "strain" is starting to show in superhero flicks.

*****************

From a purely financial point of view, this is a strange argument to make at the moment, coming right after record breaking box office receipts for The Dark Knight and Iron Man. But, to restate the obvious: this summer has featured a lot of superhero flicks, leading some people to greet the arrival of Hancock and Batman with an agonized auugh! can't Hollywood do anything other than superhero flicks?????? (Of course, this led to one of you then deciding to skip Batman thanks to superhero overload and see Mamma Mia instead, only to be apparently overloaded and sickened from Pierce Brosnan singing overload,* meaning that pain comes in all guises). So I think we can agree that five superhero flicks (six if you are including Wanted) might be putting a significant strain on the audience. (And quite possibly lowering the box office receipts for a few films -- movie watchers deciding that they could only handle one or two superhero films at the most per year possibly decided to restrict themselves to just Iron Man and The Dark Knight, a speculation based solely on box office receipts.)

But that audience strain doesn't necessarily translate to film strain, which is where I think A.O. Scott, who I usually like, goes off the mark here, in a couple of different ways. For one, he's picked a bad comparison: the Western genre. I keep hearing, over and over and over again of the "death" of the Western, only to see yet another Western (last year's 3:10 to Yuma) pop up again and again and again, and although the most recent batch of Westerns focus on "thoughtful" (read, let's chat about the meaning of violence, kids!) reinterpretations of that genre, that's hardly a new approach to Westerns -- think, for instance, of High Noon. (On a mild note, A.O. Scott's protestation that superhero flicks are under unusual financial pressure is also wrong -- Hollywood was just as interested in making money in the 1950s, and those Westerns were expected to bring in heavy profits.) Two, as A.O. Scott admits, all Hollywood flicks are governed by conventions: if you are complaining that superhero films must have a climatic fight between villain and superhero, you have to complain that romantic comedies must have a misunderstanding between hero and heroine. It's not the conventions, it's what a film does with them. Three, true, Hollywood, in general, is not known for the creativity -- or indeed, particularly interested in the creativity -- the goal is money. (Which, according to BoxOfficeMojo, all of the superhero flicks, except Hellboy II (so far) amply provided.) Hollywood rehashes old ideas, flicks, and TV shows (hello to the non-superhero flicks Sex and the City, Get Smart and the upcoming X-Files), but in some ways, superhero flicks -- especially those like Hancock and Hellboy II not as tied to audience preconceptions of the character -- can actually revel in more creativity than some other films. After all, the praise for The Dark Knight isn't because it's the all time ultimate portrayal of Batman, but because the film had something to say about law, terror and morality, combined with a pretty damn good car chase.

In other words, instead of discovering the limits of the superhero genre, as A.O. Scott suggests, I think that these particular films have shown just how much these limits can be stretched -- suggesting that quite possibly, the genre doesn't have limitations at all. I may, of course, be reacting from a long term fondness for comic books and superheroes, or I may be reacting the same way I react to any statement that any genre or art form has died. (Outside of, say, sillouettes, which probably won't be making a major popular comeback any time soon.) Because that suggests that as artists, we are restricted by the pathways carved by previous artists -- rather than finding hints of what we can do next, of how we can stretch those conventions a little bit more, and maybe, along the way, produce something original -- or if not wholly original, at least a dazzling new take on the old. Kinda the way Shakespeare did.)

Or maybe I'm just being optimistic, and from here on out, every superhero movie will be utter crap.

* I haven't seen Mamma Mia, but I have been assured by its viewers that Meryl Streep should sing, and Pierce Brosnan should not.

...and because everyone's morning (or evening) should start with an exploding violin at least once:

Beaker's Ode to Joy:



Thanks to devinjay for the link.

A bit of morning silliness for everybody:

OK. I gave all of you a few days to see this film. (Translation: I actually waited myself so I could see it in IMAX, but I'm trying to pretend I'm being nice here.)

Now it's time to discuss. ( Major, major spoilers. If you haven't seen the film, I strongly suggest not clicking – one strength of this film is its twists. )

If for any reason, you haven't seen it, which seemingly applies to about 5% of you at the moment, go, go, go, remembering that it's only available for free until tomorrow, and then ( come back for two spoilery reactions. )

So last night my parents and I headed out to the Enzian Theatre, a rather nice little art moviehouse with marvelously round and comfy seats (although not, alas, overly stadium setup, with the result that short people like me sitting in the back saw a lot of heads), casual dining while you watch the film, booze, and tiramisu. I immediately wanted to bring coldecho there. Alas, I found out about the tiramisu only after I came home, with the result that this was a decidedly tiramisu free evening.

But we were not there for the tiramisu, but rather to see Mongol, a film explaining why Genghis Khan grew up to be Genghis Khan, which appears to be because several people were very, very mean to him when he was a kid and end up hitting him a lot, so, naturally, his lifetime goal became world conquest and unification, which you can kind of see. (I'm not worrying about too many spoilers here, since, after all, we all kinda know what happened to Genghis Khan, and to most people that ran into his armies, eventually.) Also, a wolf is involved somehow, but the movie doesn't make that part clear. Indeed, probably because of the sheer complexity of the subject matter, the film does choose to skip over several parts of Genghis Khan's life, leading to quite a few "Huh? Where exactly did he get that army again?" moments, particularly at the end, when what appears to be about ten years army building (my guess – I know pretty much zilch about the life of Genghis Khan prior to the whole invading of central Asia part, so if I'm wrong, feel free to correct me) is kinda squished into about 45 seconds of film – and we still have two more films to go, since he's barely started the whole "I'm so gonna rule the world and kick everyone's butt for hitting me" bit. (A rather overdeveloped sense of revenge, I suppose, but if I'd been sold into slavery as many times as Genghis had, I'd probably get some delusions of world grandeur as well.)

Fascinatingly, for a film focused on exploring the roots of Mongolian history and tradition, and the life of the traditional Mongolian hero, the film also spends an extraordinary amount of time showing how many things go seriously, seriously wrong every time someone follows these traditions (lots of people end up dead.) And Genghis appears to win, in the end, partly because he learns to defy one sensible Mongolian tradition: fear thunder. Yes, we're celebrating the life of the man who created Mongolian traditions, says the film, but to really kick butt, don't follow any of them.

Later today, another little revenge flick – bring on the Batman! Who-hoo!

Rising up to point you to this article:

Apparently to shield health workers objecting to abortion, Bush administration proposing conditions on federal aid for health programs.

I have no objections to the federal government putting strings on federal money -- indeed, I rather wish that more strings had been attached to the massive bailouts happening over at Fannie and Freddie Mae (like, for instance, stating that since their executives have clearly not done the best jobs of running those two places, they should see salary reductions as a consequence. But I digress.) I also, in principle, agree with any statement arguing for less discrimination in hiring cases.

What concerns me here, though, is this bit, the definition of abortion:

"any of the various procedures — including the prescription, dispensing and administration of any drug or the performance of any procedure or any other action — that results in the termination of the life of a human being in utero between conception and natural birth, whether before or after implantation."

This includes, in many minds, IUDs and the pill -- which the majority of women use primarily so that they won't have an abortion, but that isn't the point.

The two points are this: 1) by this definition, a blastocyst (the initial state of embryonic development in all vertebrates, including humans) is a human being, which I have severe biological questions on; 2) the greater issue, of course, is that this forces hospitals and other health care providers to hire people that can legally refuse to dispense prescribed medication.

As I've stated before, not everybody goes on the pill or Depo-Provera or the Nuvo Ring or whatever to prevent pregnancy: many women go on these medications to prevent major, debilitating cramps, anemia, and other health problems. I was one of these women, and it's not an exaggeration to say that Norplant allowed me to keep my job and my life.

The world is a mess, and I just need to rule it.

-Dr. Horrible

I woke up this morning to Dr. Horrible's Sing A Long Blog. The long term effects of this have yet to be determined.

I can, however, say that we are all about to be deeply grateful, or deeply regret, ever praising Joss Whedon for "Once More With Feeling" and Firefly.

Scientific American says Batman could exist...for like, two years, tops.

This is why, seriously, mutation is easier, even if Batman gets all the money. Though I still think his greatest flaw is not so much that he can only be on top for a couple years (if you believe Scientific American, and we probably should) but that he keeps freaking telling people, especially temporary girlfriends, who he really is.

(Apologies in advance for torturing mdg1 with this entry.)

So I woke up this morning expecting to be greeeted by delightful sunlight; the cries of birds; and warm, fuzzy emails assuring me of the wonders of the weekend.

Those warm, fuzzy emails?

Three. Separate. Emails. announcing a change in phone number because you now have iPhones. (And adding to the fun, as far as I know, at least, the three of you don't even know each other.)

The madness continues. Any chance of this bringing down the price of an iTouch sometime soon?

"Ohmigodohmigodohmigod you have to come here!"

"Here?"

"HERE!"

"Outside of my current transportation problems, where's here, exactly?"

"The APPLE STORE!"

Pause.

"Ok. I realize that about half the people I know are outside or inside an Apple store right now, salivating, but you were about the last --"

"Dude. I am telling you. I've already MET THE HOTTEST NEUROSURGEON EVER. Just make sure you aren't wearing much."

*****************

And there you have it -- Apple's marketing in action.

******************

In related news, I still don't have an iPhone.

More legal questions regarding McCain's constitutional eligibility to be president.

Look, I'm not a particular fan of McCain, and I can think of many, many good reasons not to vote for him. But as I've said before, this is a ludicrously stupid argument. McCain wasn't just born overseas; he was born on a U.S. military base; his parents were both U.S. citizens; Congress stated that children born to U.S. citizens in the Canal Zone were citizens.

I can't remember any political campaign taking such an interest in candidates' birthplaces before, but here's a thought: can we focus our attention on what Obama, McCain, and Barr are doing and saying, instead of where they were born?

I was going to attempt to write an intelligent, thoughtful entry about the latest kerflumpus flying about the internet, or at least, that small section of the internet devoted to/excited about speculative fiction editors, writing, rejections and so on. And then I found that Tobias Buckell and ktempest and many many others had beaten me to it.

On an unrelated to racism and language note, you'd think that this sort of thing, which happens all the time, would teach all of us, especially me, to be more careful about the emails we write -- and yet, the very ease of emailing and instant messaging and Facebooking and Twittering and so on just seems to make all of us, including me, continually careless - though I'm working on controlling that impulse to hit send before I think or post.

Edit: For the record, I enjoy reading HelixSF, and both editors have a good eye for fiction -- this is less a commentary on the zine, and more an observation about email.

And having written the above, I'll note that careless, hasty writing that later becomes embarassing public is hardly an internet phenomenon -- but that barrier of needing to physically carry that writing to another place for publication/reading has gotten much thinner.

Fixing a ceiling is a more complicated procedure than I thought. It involves:

1. Not fixing the ceiling
2. Stating that you have fixed the ceiling
3. Staring at the unfixed ceiling in surprise and stating that you must have fixed an entirely different ceiling the day before
4. Unexpectedly and coincidentally having a piece of the ceiling fall on you during this conversation, perhaps to exemplify the unfixed nature of the ceiling
5. Fixing the air conditioning unit
6. Not removing the wall unit which incidentally leaks when it rains
7. Announcing that for this, you need help
8. Staring at the ceiling
9. Noting that ceiling is pulling up.
10. Finding someone to help with the ceiling
11. Having the second person stare up hopefully at the ceiling, as if, perhaps, the weight of the stare will cause the ceiling to feel very, very bad about the way it's starting to drip down, down down and fall on people, and perhaps fix itself.
12. Announce that you must find ladders.
13. Vanish, for a time.
14. Bring ladders into the bedroom. Realize that this will only work if you move the bed.
15. Move the bed, to the hellish distress of a small grey cat who LOVED it under the bed, thank you very much, and feels the need to demonstrate this love with a high pitched wail and several well aimed claws (I try not to irritate this cat for this very reason: she may be shy and retiring, but when roused, she will not hesitate to express her extreme displeasure physically)
16. Spend time cleaning up cat injuries.
17. Have apartment dweller attempt to calm down small grey cat.
18. Made of fail.
19. Have apartment dweller pass out cat treats to the two other cats, who are not, as it turns out, upset in the least by this, but do like the cat treats.
20. Nail in wooden boards above the ceiling.
21. Screw ceiling into the wooden boards, incidentally leaving multiple black spots all over the ceiling instead of the nice white popcorn surface previously there.
22. Depart for a couple of hours while everything dries.
23. Return to steam clean the carpet, making everything wet again.
24. Replaster the ceiling.
25. Replace bed.
26. Realize, to your horror, that tgregory's things have been moved all around and you have no idea where they were to begin with. Fail to look forward to the moment when he will return home.
27. Also realize that the ceiling is still Not Done, and needs additional work tomorrow morning.

Today's goal was, I thought, simple: supervise the fixing of the AC and the ceiling in tgregoryt's room. I can do this, I thought. Sure, I'm still dizzy, but even I can lie down on the floor and look at a ceiling.

The first clue that All Might Not Be Well came with Step One, the AC unit, which was repaired again this morning (for those keeping track, which is as far as I can tell none of you, this would be its third repair within one week) and again not exactly fixed. "The part doesn't work," said the repair guy gloomily as we felt the rush of nice, hot air push out of the AC unit towards us. The repair guy has, as you might guess, a fondness for the obvious.

But, he assured me, the ceiling was completely and utterly fixable, and he would absolutely and unquestionably be back that afternoon to fix the ceiling, even if he had said pretty much the same thing yesterday and not actually shown up.

TO my surprise, he did appear, to tell me again that the AC was broken -- which I'd worked out on my own -- and that they were here to fix the ceiling, which would be done promptly. And it was -- too promptly -- since about ten minutes after they took off, the ceiling was dangling again.

Oh well. They'll be back tomorrow.

If bits of the ceiling are still hanging down, and I can see bits of the insulation through cracks on the ceiling, this would be, by definition, not fixed, right?

A not remotely safe for work posting on Craigslist. (Text only, but unsafe text. Also, may destroy your peaceful, innocent visions of the classic Nintendo system, assuming you have such visions.)

Thanks to tryss for the link. I think.

So, well after the rest of you, I finally got around to watching Doctor Who: Journey's End. My ( spoilery comments: )