Pain don't hurt none.

I'm stuck in BG an extra night this week, since I'm attending the Jackson Lears seminar tomorrow morning. This has been a pretty hectic week, so I'm just now getting some thoughts from earlier posted:

1) About a month ago, I posted my thoughts on the revival of serial narratives on network television. Clearly, I've influenced Geoff Klock, who made similar points when talking about last week's kick-ass LOST episode. I'll admit to having a nerd-crush on Klock, who's one of the better comic book scholars out there, even if he is hung up on Lacanian psychobabble.

2) Even though I've all but given up on The Onion's actual satire - it's sort of funny, but just not cutting it anymore - their A.V. Club is totally bitchcakes. Noel Murray has put together one of the funniest (and most insightful) looks at the philosophy of the other guy from Point Break. Thus, I give unto you, the Tao of Swayze.

3) Also via the A.V. Club, someone pretty much summed up the real meaning behind 300. I watched this today after complaining with Jen A. about how terrible the movie was during our weekly meeting. Jen rocks, and encouraged me to tell Frank Miller's biographer exactly where to stick it next week (the one-year anniversary of me pissing off a bald Australian by calling a bald American a fascist).

4) While I first found this awesome page via other comics blogs, it's also posted on the A.V. Club, so I guess they should just get all the credit for writing this post.

5) I leave you with yet another example of Reed Richards, the smartest man alive:

[INSERT LOINCLOTH JOKE HERE]

I decided to take a break from writing my papers today and went to see 300 up at the fancy Levis Commons Showcase. I'm still under its adrenaline boosting-influence, so here are some thoughts:

-When the ambassador and guards are pushed down the well/big hole, how freaking deep is that thing? Are you telling me that a bronze age city has dug so deep that we not only can't see the bottom, but can't even hear something hit it? If so, WHY? What possible function can this serve to the city-state of Sparta?

-If all of the slow-motion scenes were played at regular speed, I don't think the movie would have lasted an hour. This doesn't seem bad until you remember that 300 is 117 minutes long.

-After looking at so many toned abs, I think I really need to work out more.

-Who is Gerard Butler's agent? How do you go from Dracula 2000 and the made-for-TV Attila the Hun to not only 300, but last year's excellent Beowulf and Grendel? By the way, if you watch Butler's subtle, nuanced work as Beowulf alongside his (appropriate) one-dimensional Leonidas, you've got to admit he's pretty sweet.

Now that I think about it, I'm not sure I really liked the movie. I can't believe I'm saying it, but Zach Snyder managed to make a movie was was less subtle than Frank Miller's book, which stops just short of actually smacking the reader in the face with its symbolism. The added stuff was entirely unnecessary, and the "happy ending" was ridiculous. If you want the perfect cinematic version of Miller's 300, I point you to Samurai Jack. Nobody does Frank Miller better than a cartoon.

What really struck me during the movie was the preview for Blades of Glory, the new Will Ferrell movie. I realized that Will Ferrell has put together this bizarre series of films that present a look at masculinity under threat: Old School, Anchorman, Talladega Nights, and now
Blades. Each one shows the "typical American guy," and each of the three so far emphasize the masculinity of the character, surrounding by traditional signs of success - but these are hollow. For Frank the Tank, marriage and home ownership are unsatisfactory; Ron Burgundy is threatened by traditional feminine empowerment in the workplace; and Ricky Bobby's iconic nature is derailed at least in part by the appearance of a homosexual European into an American-controlled sport. Here's what I've already seen in Blades of Glory's trailer:

• Will Ferrell is successful, famous, and sexually virile
• This character is dependent on public/media exposure
• People don't like homoeroticism, even in figure skating

Suddenly, [PROTAGONIST] noticed darting shadows in the corner of the ballroom. Ninjas!

[Stupid Blogger lost my first version of this post, so stuff's missing, and I'm not in the mood to re-type the entire thing]

Back by popular demand, I'm gonna hit it old school style, with my review of the greatest Bible-based film I've seen in the last year...

Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter

Synopsis - Jesus fights vampires, saves Canadian lesbians, and buys a new shirt. The legendary luchadore Santos helps.

Review - This movie makes the crap I filmed in high school on a Hi-8 recorder seem infinitely classier. I understand that JCVH is trying to be parodic, referencing exploitation films, kung-fu, and 70s moviemaking in general. The problem is when it crosses the line from imitation to serious attempts at humor (and falls on its face).

Nevertheless, it was still a damn enjoyable hundred minutes, and it made me want to visit Ottawa and go on the JCVH reality tour, which I can only assume includes the blessed waters of Lake Ontario. Of course, I would be wearing a Lucha Libre mask the whole time.

Trivia
- Peter Caracas has been described as "a 5'2" Ronald Reagan" by Jerry Falwell; Nancy Reagan refuses to accept Caracas as her illegitimate child.

- A review on IMDB classifies the film as "Gay Liberation Theology." I assume this is because the film was shot in Ottawa.

Happy now, Ege?

You know someone named Arsenio Billingsworth?

Well, apologies for the delay in posting. Apparently, my readership has grown to 4! (that's counting me) I didn't feel like posting during break, as I was busy laying on the couch using the dog as a pillow. When I tried to post last week, Blogger wasn't working.



I promise to post a full review of Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter later today, but first I need to do a quickie review of the problems with comic books lately.



First is the explosion of pathos that is Marvel's Civil War crossover. Thanks to Johnnycakes (I'm going to make that nickname stick), I was able to read through the final parts over Spring Break. In summation for my non-comic-fan-readers:

-Captain America is dead (maybe)

-a 60-foot tall black dude is dead

-each state has its own official state-sanctioned superhero team; I can only hope that Ohio gets Colossus.

-Reed Richards is a douchebag

(Thanks to Near-Mint Heroes, who did a whole series of posters)

I also used the Break to to some random half-assed work around the house. I hooked up cable in the basement (so I can sit on the floor and watch a 9-inch TV with no remote), and supervised the installation of a garage-door code thingy. Plus (the important thing), I made sure my sister reduced her public stupidness.

I spent St. Patty's day finishing my tax return (didn't even get credit for the Toronado) and watching basketball in my pajama pants. I did get to see a fairly cool parade Sunday, and drank my obligatory green-colored Coors Lite. And then spent most of the day keeping the dog from attacking my neice and nephew. By attacking, I mean jumping around while the kids scream.

School has been exceptionally shitty, since pretty much all of the papers are due in the two weeks following break. That, and I think my ENG students are actually getting worse (with a few exceptions) - by the end of the semester, maybe they'll forget how to dress themselves.