Everything Old is New Again (Mostly)

Strangely, this political satire from the 2012 Presidential election
cycle is still relevant... so much for new ideas.

The 1980 United States presidential election was the first political clash of which I was even moderately aware. Through the filter of my eleven year-old mind, the contest for the job of guiding the free world could be distilled down to a competition between "the odd guy with the southern accent" (I lived in Western New York) versus "the actor guy with the one liners." Now, 36 years later. not much really seems to have changed. Given the even smaller time-frame between this current presidential election cycle and the previous one, it is probably not surprising then that many of the characters flooding the airwaves look very similar to those who shone brightly just four years ago.

This past weekend, while going through one of the pile of books stacked around my home, I came across a paper doll collection given to me by a former student. If I recall correctly, I had been given it after he returned from Washington, DC, where he had attended one of the Presidential Ball's following the re-election of Barack Obama in 2012. Flipping though the pages, it became clear that little changes in our political landscape, as many of the players have remained the same. The aptly titled 2012 Political Inaction Figures by Tim Foley remains oddly prescient in its commentary. Both of the current party front-runners were present (with he Donald warranting a YUGE spot on the back cover), and a number of the forgotten "insurgents" of yesteryear such as Herman Caine(?) are there too, soon to be joined by the current roster of never-to-be-heard-from-agains.

Who'd a thunk the back cover might predict the Republic
Party's candidate for 2016?

Maybe you've heard of this brash new political star?

Tim Foley's contribution to the Marco Rubio playbook.

The "dynamic" campaign of Herman Cain lives on as a
flat paper doll.

Don't look for him on Meet the Press... David Gregory, too,
appears to be sitting this cycle out.

Governor Huckabee's campaigns get shorter every four
years... see you in 2020!

Comic Bookshelf: Queen Crab (2012)

Part horror, part romance and part sci-fi, Queen Crab by Palmiotti and
artist Artiz Eiguren is an all-engaging mature graphic novel.

With crab-handed characters making a comeback of sorts with the popularity of actor Evan Peters' Jimmy Darling on American Horror Story: Freak Show, now seems like a good time to briefly revisit the awesomeness of Jimmy Palmiotti's 2012 offering, Queen Crab.

Released as a slim, hard-covered graphic novel in 2012 by Image Comics, Queen Crab represents long time collaborative writer Palmiotti's initial foray into solo writing. After having been a long time fan of his work on the two most recent Jonah Hex series from DC (among other titles on which he's written), investing on a very reasonably priced $12.99 graphic novel was not much of a leap.

With thematic beats from sources ranging from Kafka's Metamorphosis to any number of jilted-lover romance novels, Queen Crab tells of the figurative and very literal transformation of protagonist Ginger. If the premise rings of your standard comic book origin story, the execution reflects a much more grounded and mature introduction to a promising character. While adjectives "grounded" and "mature" as comic book/movie descriptors have lost their luster in a time when nearly every such product attempts to be more grounded, and mature and financially successful than Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy, here the smaller, more personal scope of the conflict keeps the story from being overwrought with its own sense of self-importance.

The suggestive cover and titillating pin-ups included as extras by other artists not withstanding, Artiz Eiguren's artwork stays away from the cheesecake. Employing a visual style that veers away from a more traditional comic-book characterization of both Ginger's figure and transformation, Eiguren's art effectively evokes a horror vibe. With a color palette reminiscent of Richard Corben's recent Poe adaptations for Dark Horse Publishing, and with an overall style similar to that of Avatar Press star Jacen Burrows (The Courtyard and Neonomicon), the artwork blends three genres (romance/horror/sci-fi) into a single well-constructed tale.

The story is familiar: Ginger is getting married, and (surprise, surprise!) she is marrying the wrong guy. So wrong, in fact, that on their honeymoon, he attempts to murder Ginger by casting her overboard the cruise ship they are celebrating on. As her body sinks to the briny depths, something happens...

Beware blue underwater light shows!

The result of Ginger's underwater face-to-face with a blue light show are some impressive and unusual body modifications, as well as a desire for revenge. Soon after catching up with her husband the story jumps two years ahead when Ginger's former best friend and romantic friend-with-benefits from early on finally catch up with her in Florida. Rather than going the superhero route with her new talents, Ginger chooses to blend in, joining an aquatic show, in an effort to lead a semi-regular life. While not quite in a freak show, Ginger's occupation does seem permissible in the real world setting, as one that would allow her to exist without drawing undue attention to her situation.

I've reread Queen Crab a number of times since it found it's way to my comic bookshelf, and, as mentioned earlier, as a character worthy of further exploration, Ginger has promise. I also hope Palmiotti does not write a sequel. Not because I wouldn't buy, and very likely enjoy, it, but the themes and open-ended possibilities are better reflected by a natural next step for the character that remains only inn our imagination. We, the reader, don't know what comes next, though we do realize that Ginger has embarked on a great adventure. It would be just too obvious (and traditional) for us to be privy to where that adventure takes her. Sometimes a single experience with a strong character who's arc is completed by being incomplete just rings truer than the over the top explanations that would come along with more background and a sequel.

Comic Bookshelf: The Influencing Machine (2012)

 From "The Golden Age of Objectivity,"
page 115.

Too many books, too little time. Despite having a number of literary irons in the fire (The Lone Ranger Goes North, Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher, to name a few), the final book I read as my summer break drew to a close over a month ago was one which was recommended to me by a former star student, Tom. The Influencing Machine (2012), written by Brooke Gladstone and illustrated by Josh Neufeld, was assigned as his freshman read prior to arriving at American University in September. His suggestion was based in equal parts on both my prior role as his AP Composition and Language teacher and appreciation of comic books graphic novels.

Illustrated in clean black-and-white (with baby blue accents) panels drawn by Josh Neufeld, The Influencing Machine is an engaging graphic novel detailing the ever-evolving ways in which information flows. The emphasis here is on information as "news," though concepts are applicable to broader arenas. Using balanced evidence, and an impartial voice, author (and NPR journalist) Gladstone deftly moves chronologically from ancient Guatemala to award-winning journalist Robert Wright, filling in gaps with a who's who of journalism including Dan Rather, Edward R. Murrow and Albert Camus.

Through examples from a variety of historic touchstones in which communication, or lack thereof, plays a role in impacting the American perception of events, Gladstone demonstrates how those in control of information's flow are capable of shaping the message in an effort to have it reflect there own best interests. The majority of scenarios shared by Gladstone are large scale efforts that are fairly common to anyone with even a superficial understanding of history, most notably (and perhaps obviously) the Vietnam and Iraq Wars. Gladstone reinforces the familiar with anecdotes from scientists (like those at the Max Planck Institute), journalists (George Seldes) and others that offer a variety of perspectives on the "machine."

From "The Goldilocks Number," page 51.

Along the way, Gladstone and Neufeld lay out concepts, such as the Goldilocks Number (left), that aid the reader's comprehension of numerous abstract theories in concrete use. As I read, I found myself post-it noting numerous pages worthy of further review. I also found myself wishing that the authors had taken some of these impressive ideas regarding communication and reduced the scale of consideration to a more personal level. It occurred to me that many of the fascinating concepts regarding the modern transmission of news are also worthy of consideration as they relate to interpersonal communication. It was these ideas that I set aside for later cherry-picking in future classes.

A thought came to me as I read: each year, educators at our school will suggest the offering of a media literacy course. Whether due to a lack of awareness of potential resources such as The Influencing Machine, or because there are secondary agendas at play, in application, these "courses" often become opportunities to inform on the evils of social networking. One of the things Gladstone and Neufeld do very well with their tome is illustrate (ugh!) the roles we has senders and receivers of information have in either objectively pursuing our own answers to questions or in questioning the answer we are given. If this doesn't get to the heart of media literacy, or rhetoric, than I'm unsure what does.

In an educational climate that promises to seek making high school students "college and career ready," you need look no further than the author's own reasoning as to why The Influencing Machine as suggested in an interview with NPR: "I wrote a 2,000-year history of the media and a manifesto as to why it is the way it is and what one needs to do to make it be the way we want it to be — all in panels, about 160 pages, 2,000 years and tons and tons and tons of end notes. And I think it's because it's so compressed. It's a useful book, because every chapter, rather than completing the discussion, is kind of a launch for discussion, because you really have to say things in very, very few words."

An accessible read recommended for news junkies, educators and those hoping to see the message both shaped and authentic.

Comic Bookshelf: Doctor Strange Season One

Things get serious for Stephen Strange. Words by Greg Pak and stunning artwork from Emma Rios.

"I'm not evil. Just a little bit selfish. Just like you." 

Dr. Stephen Strange to fellow student Wong in Season One.

Though I have read quite a few back issues featuring Stephen Strange's Master of the Mystic Arts, Dr. Strange has never really been a headliner for Marvel Comics. With a Marvel movie in development, it is a safe bet that interest in Dr. Strange is likely to increase, and that whatever direction is taken with the character's origin will become the accepted standard.

Cover by
Julian Totino Tedesco. 

Marvel's hardcover Doctor Strange Season One, written by writer Greg Pak (Planet Hulk among others) and rising star Emma Rios (Osborn and Pretty Deadly), is one of the publisher's more recent attempts to introduce the character in a dynamic way that sticks with readers. Published in 2012, eight years after J. Michael Straczynski and Sara Barnes' 2004 more grounded take take on the origin story, Doctor Strange Season One again takes a pass at establishing a modern, cinematic view of the story. As heralded on the back cover, this was intended to modernize "the formative first days of Marvel's Master of the Mystic Arts." Unlike other characters that received the Season One treatment, such as the Fantastic Four, Iron Man and Spider-Man, Dr. Strange has always seemed to function on the periphery of superhero-dom, a fact that for me actually increases his appeal.

Consistent with early
Marvel tropes, green is
the color of evil, in
this case Baron Mordo's
magic.

Pak wisely jumps into Strange's origin at the entrance to the Temple of the Ancient One in the Himalayas, electing to recount the events that led our protagonist to this point in his life via flashback. A successful surgeon who has lost the use of his hands to a car accident, Strange is seeking the Ancient One's special "techniques" (at this point he cannot even bring himself to say "magic") in an effort to return to the selfish life of wealth and adulation he lived previously as an American doctor of medicine. It is from this point, and within the context of a search for "three rings of tremendous power," that the reader is introduced to the most common characters and elements of Strange's backstory: the evil Baron Mordo, his future servant/partner Wong, and his true flaw (which in classic Marvel-style is mental/psychological rather than purely physical), hi won hubris.

Usually portrayed as serious and somewhat humorless, here, the characterization of Stephen Strange is more glib. As a cinematic retelling of the origin, it is difficult not to look at it in light of Marvel's most popular onscreen re-imaging in recent memory, Iron Man. While the character has always had something of a physical resemblance to Iron Man's alter ego, Tony Stark, in Season One it is hard not to see much of Robert Downey Jr.'s goateed (in the early days both Stark and Strange were mustached), wise-ass in Stephen Strange. The characterization plays much like a magic-based analog to Stark's tech based character arc, though Strange's access to power is earned while Stark's is the product of his own innate intelligence. Not surprisingly, this theme of "earned power" or "earned worthiness of power" is echoed throughout Pak's retelling and is key to avoiding too great a similarity with Stark.

Likely in part due to both the characters she's been asked to draw and the dynamic staging of action panels, Rios's work has often been deemed "Ditko-esque". (For non-fanboys, artist Steve Ditko was the original artist for Spider-man and co-creator if Doctor Strange.) Rios does had a fantastic eye for filling in the panel completely with detail and action, squeezing as much out of each moment as possible. As drawn by Rios, at the onset, Strange is a weary and broken man. As he slowly begins to regain his humanity as he makes progress on his mystical path, there is a lightness to his presence on the page that reinforces the growth suggested in Pak's dialogue.

One minor drawback (depending on your personal cash flow) to Dr. Strange Season One, and for that matter the entire series of hardcover Season One books, is the cover price. Yes, the hard cover presentation and binding is gorgeous, but for your $24.99, there are only about 100 or so new pages of content. Additionally, this particular volume, there is also a 20 page reprint of the most recent effort to restart the Dr. Strange led team book, Defenders as well as a nine page sketchbook by Rios. My own willingness to purchase the hardcover upon its initial release was based on two factors: my desire to see Dr. Strange given the "star treatment" by his publisher and the creative pairing of Rios' artwork and Pak's writing. To its credit, Doctor Strange Season One is a highly entertaining reintroduction to a character whose presence in the Marvel Universes continues to grow. It also maintains a high level of readability value, thereby making its purchase price easier to accept, and my recommendation of it as very worthwhile.

Cthulhu Theater: Grabbers (2012)

Recently I have begun to gain a strong appreciation for horror films produced in other countries such as France, Korea and Finland. I also continue to be a sucker for tentacled-cult-elder-gods movies in the spirit of H.P. Lovecraft's popular fiction. Though Lovecraft's unique vision has yet to have been fully realized in any big budget straight adaptations of his own work, Lovecraft's influence is all over a number of horror movies, some with an explicit connection to his source material, and others with simply a visual nod to his creature designs and Cthulhu mythos. In most cases when movies are said to be "Lovecraftian," it is a reference to either the creature designs or the setting. Horror-comedy Grabbers (2012) directed by Jon Wright and written by Kevin Lehane meets those limited criteria in addition to possessing enough Lovecraftian tropes to suggest a strong influence by some of his literary works as well.

Come for the satire, stray for the
formulaic monster flick?

Set on a remote Irish island, the setting does indeed get dark, wet and suitably moody and the creatures are "tentacly" in design, but the film shares much more in spirit and pacing with Tremors (1990) or any number of the Nick Frost/Simon Pegg/Edgar Wright horror-action comedies of the past decade. Thanks in large part to the effective effects, a game ensemble cast of actors doing their best to enliven standard small town stereotypes (weird-old-timer, goofy-but-handsome-doctor type, grizzled detective and attractive newbie in town) and fine cinematography of the Irish coast, Grabbers does serve as an adequate snowy day distraction.

The one place the filmmakers would have seemed to have missed the boat is in product placement. Given its importance as a plot point (as well as carrying significance to the characterization of nearly every character in the film), Grabbers would have seemed natural for the pervasive alcohol use throughout have been sponsored by someone. If not for the fact that this film was made by Irish filmmakers (using partial funding from both the Irish Film Board and UK Film Council), it would be easy to dismiss the film's alcohol consumption as deus ex machina all too stereotypical jab at the Irish. But on some level, especially when one sees the promotional posters for the film's European theatrical release (above, left), Wright and Lehane do seem to be aspiring to some sort of satire with their film. The balance between humor, action, ad social commentary never seems natural or well developed enough in one direction.

Like many horror-comedies, its frustrating to realize halfway through that had a more focused approach been taken, say purely a horror one, the resulting film could have been infinitely more entertaining. This is evidenced by the handling of the creatures. The initial reveals of the tentacled creatures in a variety of stages (whether hiding in the corner of a licencing, or hatching from eggs) are very well realized and creepy. The drunk shtick (a town full of Irish folks--including the town priest--has just got to be funny, right?) and romance between the two characters (you just know will hook up by film's end) serve to dissipate the building tension and ameliorate the few scares that are here.

Entertaining, but with almost no rewatchability value, Grabbers (2012) is a completely satisfactory, ultimately forgettable, direct stream Netflix offering.

Standing in the middle of the street when our town is under attack
by large tentacled creatures is never a good idea.

Seen It: Come Out and Play (2012)

Having exhausted most of the "Killer Hillbilly" horror movie options available for streaming on Netflix, I've recently taken to viewing films from the "Vacation Horror" sub-genre. As is the case with any genre, you have to view a few turds (Pig Hunt, anyone?) before coming across something worthy of comment.

Another case of a terrible title and DVD
cover for quality horror film.

This morning I turned to the 2012 Makinov film, Come Out and Play starring Vinessa Shaw and Ebon Moss-Bachrach as a vacationing couple who come across a little trouble. Actually, quite a few little troubles that require a moral leap to initiate any resolution to the problem. In fact, the question at the heart of the film is also the title of a movie which many online suggest Come Out and Play is a remake of, Who Can Kill a Child? (1976). Of Both films are adaptations of the same source novel, Juan José Plan's El Juego de los Niños (The Children's Game). In addition to the shared source material though, a quick comparison between the 2012 film's trailer (posted above), and the trailer for Who Can Kill a Child (1976) suggest some shot-by-shot truth to the remake accusation.

The most common likely modern content comparison would be to any of the Children of the Corn (the original short story was published a year after Who Can...Child's release) or even The Village of the Damned (1960), as the threat to our "heroes" are children. In the case of Come Out and Play, while both leads and the director were unfamiliar to me prior to viewing, I found the premise and the setting of a small resort island near Mexico of interest. The interesting camera work, color palette and performances (especially that of male lead, Ebon Moss-Bachrach) was engrossing enough to spend the hour and twenty minutes run time.

The most jarring and controversial aspect to the movie is the manner in which children and adults resort to eliminating one another. To his credit, director Makinov (who must really want "credit" as the single name moniker is shown in HUGE letters at the beginning and end of the film) does rely on a slow burn style of building tension, and does not, at least until the end, resort to over-the-top gore. Surprisingly, the most off-putting element of the film is its title. The promotional image and title as it appears on the Netflix dashboard (also the Blur-Ray cover) both seem to suggest a direct to television movie. The quality of the film is most definitely beyond those destined for SyFy airing. (NOTE: sadly, as of 10/26/17 this film is no longer available for direct viewing on Netflix.)

I recommend this film for those who enjoy tense, well-executed and produced horror, and especially those who have NOT seen Who Can Kill a Child? This suggestion is based solely on the divided commentary and reviews online which fall into one of two camps: those who saw the original adaptation thought it redundant and unnecessary while those who came to the movie with fresh eyes found some entertainment value.

Happy horror-ible viewing!

Seen It: Painted Skin: The Resurrection (2012)

With nicer weather around the corner, my days of watching movies on weekends may soon be drawing to a close. Hoping to go out with something a little adventurous, I came across the oddly titled Painted Skin: The Resurrection (2012) on Netflix this morning and completely on a lark made the decision to check it out, based upon to the aesthetic similarities to the previously reviewed Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Secret Flame (2010).

Chinese poster (2012).

Prior to viewing, I must confess to having no idea what the title is meant to imply. Reportedly a sequel of sorts to 2008's Painted Skin, I suspect the title may have something to do with Chinese folklore (on which some of the characters and story are based), but to my Western mind it made little sense. I would also suspect that the seemingly unrelated title might limit the likelihood of Netflix trollers who happen to give the film a chance, which is unfortunate given its fairly strong entertainment value. Especially those who are leary of subtitles and Chinese cinema. The  meaning of the movie's title is clearer  at the conlcusion though the us of the descripteor word "Painted" seems unnecessarily off-putting.

Directed by Chinese director Wuershan, Painted Skin: The Resurrection is an action-adventure-romance starring a number of prominent Chinese actors, none of who have achieved as much name recognition in the U.S. Each is suitably physically beautiful or made up to be equally grotesque depending on the positive (or negative) nature of the character they play. The acting is superb and the the Fuedal Chinese world in whcih the action is set is very well realized. On the big screen this movie must have been beautiful.

The Princess (Wei Zhou) and the Warrior (Kun Chen) pass through one of the many beautiful vistas.

Given the significant roles played by spirits in the film, I was often reminded of Hayao Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke (1999) and Spirited Away (2001), two Japanese animated films that dealt with (although in an even more fantastic way) the connection between both the physical human world and a spirit realm. The influence of Miyazaki seems evident in some character designs--though I am not nearly fluent enough to assure anyone of that--these may just be common Eastern motifs of which I am unschooled. Personally, the most obvious practical similarity the design of Princess Mononoke and that of the primary antagonist's daughter, herself also part of a wolf clan.



Actress Xun Zhou as malevolent fox spirit Xiaowei.

Reminiscent as costume fantasies such the far more familiar Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000), Painted Skin: The Resurrection embraces the fantasy elements thought he occasional use of CGI, that rarely distracts from the story or performances. Some of the story beats are similar (and the true villain seems to come from just shy of left field), but there is enough here to keep any passing genre fan satisfied. There is also a fair degree of sensuality on display as both female leads, one a demon and the other a warrior princess, vie for the heart (literally--you'll see) of the same man.



Princess and Xiaowei.

Painted Skin: The Resurrection (2012) is streamed on Netflix, presented with subtitles. The original Painted Skin (2008) is available for free on Youtube for viewing, and listening to as well, if you happen to know Mandarin Chinese.

Seen & Read It: Django Unchained (2012)

I may have missed this small exchange in the movie, but its inclusion in the comic book adds
a level of depth to both Dr. King Schultz's characterization and Django's comment later in the film that has
been widely featured in the television ads.

As a Spaghetti Western fan and appreciator of Quentin Tarantino's film aesthetic, I have been awaiting the Christmas Day release of Django Unchained (2012) for quite some time. After seeing the reviews (both positive and negative) there is not much else to say that hasn't already been offered by more cultured reviewers worldwide, though I will say that among Django Unchained's greatest accomplishments is that it made me like both Jamie Foxx, Leonardo Dicaprio and Samuel L. Jackson as incredibly gifted actors, rather than as simply celebrities. I also appreciated the bravery Tarantino showed in adhering to his vision of the film, which given overly sensitive studio (and societal) tastes, cannot have been easy. The film is violent, bloody, angry, raw, and thoroughly engaging as a piece of visual art. That being said, it is also definitely NOT for children or those who are unwillingly to see a filmmaker at his unflinching best.

Django Unchained is an unabashedly irreverent homage to the old school Spaghetti Westerns and, as such, it is only right that it, like many old traditional Western television shows of the past, have a comic book adaptation hitting the stands at the time of its release. Given the content of the film, and therefore the comic book, it is safe to say that few publishers could offer to present a "Director's Cut" of the film in comic book form like DC Comic's Vertigo imprint.

Featuring art by RM Guera (who recently concluded his run on the popular neo-Western-tinged Vertigo series Scalped), The first issue of the comic book came out two week's ago and has been sitting in my "To Read" pile until after I could see the film. In his foreword to the comic, Tarantino reminds the reader of his love of Western comic books and that the ability to do a comic book adaptation allows him to share with the fan the "ENTIRE SCRIPT," which if it were to be filmed would be almost "four hours in length. For fans of the film, Tarantino and just the editorial process, Django Unchained the comic book offers a view "the very first draft of the script." An excellent companion to the film, I enjoyed reading what Tarantino had not included in the film, but suspect some of it may turn up in a Director's Cut or as a Special Feature in some future Blue Ray release.

Ghosts of FCBD Past: My Favorite Martian (2012)

Who among us wouldn't prefer roast quimf?

Though I was once again unable to officially make it to Free Comic Book Day (FCBD) this past May due to work engagements, I did pick up some of the offerings the following Thursday for the reasonable price of $1. One of the many nice things about FCBD is that smaller publishers who have a little bit less name recognition (and whose publications are often not to as easy to sample unless you are looking for something specific) have their wares on the table along with the Batmans and Avengers of the comic book world.

Uncle Martin's expression?
Priceless.

When I first saw the list of possible titles available this past May, one that I looked very forward to picking up was a sampling of stories from the forthcoming My Favorite Martian Special Edition, published by Hermes Press.

The draw for me was both an affinity for the classic television show starring Bill Bixby and Ray Walston, as well as the artwork by Silver Age great Dan Spiegle that I had seen in online previews. Plus, it seemed like an entertaining concept entailing what comic books, for me anyway, should really be about in the end: fun. As the television show aired  (1963-66) before I was born, I came to it like many folks my age, via reruns on early 1980s "super channels" out of Chicago and New York. Also, I first was introduced to both leads by their Eighties success; Ray Walston through his movies like Fast times at Ridgemont High and Robert Altman's Popeye, and Bill Bixby on The Incredible Hulk. 

Besides, who's favorite relative at some point in their young lives is not their uncle? A television show starring two interesting actors of the time eith a concept that had one (Bixby) passing the other (Walston) off as his uncle, while in fact harboring a Martian was gold. Think I Dream of Jeannie but with two dudes; though Jeannie premiered after Martian in 1965.

The comic book adventures of Martin and Tim took a moment to get used to as most of the episodes I recall watching were in black and white, while the comic is in color, and I've always thought of Walston as having grey hair. The coloring in the comic uses the age old trick of having two protagonists who share physical similarities and for whom the most obvious differentiating factor is hair color and style, Martin with a blond Caesar-cut, and Tim with a standard black with side-part deal.

The primary story, "Destination Mars," does what many old school comic book tie-ins attempt: to take the show's original concept and "heighten the budget" by including activities that might be too expensive to produce on network television. In addition to the standard sitcom witty repartee between the  characters, this comic book story (and presumable the rest of the larger collection for which the image to the right is the cover) includes high budget goodies such as a working rocket ship and suitably Sixties robots.

Though I'm unsure whether I could afford to drop the $49.99 for the hardcover My Favorite Martian the Complete Series: Volume One, the FCBD offering did fro me what I had hoped it would by providing a light story reminiscent of those I enjoyed on television and in comic books during my youth.

Seen It: Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance (2012)

If it's February, it must be time for a new Marvel Knights movie to be released. Since the moderate success of Ben Affleck's Daredevil (2003!) many moons ago, right around Valentine's Day seems to be as good a holiday as any to drop one of these beauties in theaters. Taking advantage of my President's Week Recess from school/work, my son and I took in Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance in Read D 3D at a matinee this afternoon. Not one to shy away from movies because of bad reviews (more than a few critics were wrong in saying Harold and Kumar 3 was bad, right?), dropping $11 a ticket to sit in a mostly empty theater seemed like just what the doctor ordered--especially if I could inflate the profits in hopes of a (fingers crossed) legitimate Doctor Strange movie eventually.

Directed by the duo behind both Crank (2006) and Crank 2: High Voltage (2009), Neveldine/Taylor, there's not too much to say other than if you like stupid action movies with crazed leading men, beautiful lead actresses and demonic vehicles (trucks, bikes and some sort of excavator) then this is the film for you... as it was for me. Though I will not forgive Neveldine/Taylor for ruining any chance of a "real" Jonah Hex movie (thanks to their putrid script that became the 2010 turkey), I am an abashed Nic Cage fan, who generally always find him interesting in movies, especially when vacillating between batsh*t nuts and almost comatose as he does, as Johnny Blaze, in this movie. In many ways I found the film much more entertaining than much of deified The Dark Knight, which, to this viewer, fell apart under its own pretense. Ghost Rider Spirit of Vengeance is what it is--an adrenal-infused popcorn flick.

So, did I enjoy the movie? Yes. Hell, yes!