I Don't Have Anything Against Clowns Either

The hamburger box isn't too far away from the pizza box. You're really just thinking inside the adjacent box. In terms of boxes, it's a lateral move. That's basically what I'm saying.

“The Princess Bride” is another old film that’s been on my list for a bit of a while. I have only the vaguest memories of my childhood notions about it, but I don’t think that they were particularly favourable. I believe that one of my best friends had a particular gusto for the film, which now does something to explain his affection for that Andre the Giant shirt he used to wear. His taste for the story, however, was something I would not share, and though my reasons for this were never profoundly solid, I’m willing to place stock in the idea that the clearest among them had something to do with Wallace Shawn. I don’t have anything against the guy. He’s a fine performer. There’s just something in the way that his face so naturally resembles the visage of a clown. It’s disconcerting. I think that one of the only pieces of the movie I happened to see when I was young featured him prominently. I actually thought that he was the primary villain until I finally saw the thing on Thursday.

Right. So. Eventually, I realised that my aversion to this movie had no real basis, and I decided that I should think about getting around to seeing it. That was a while ago. At some point, I took up the assumption that this was exactly the sort of film that would occasionally get played in theatres, and I made the choice to wait for that. It certainly worked in the case of “Flash Gordon”, and I don’t think that I even planned things out for that one. During this last week, my laconic patience was rewarded by the opportunity to experience the story in its broad glory at my favourite cinema, and I jumped to it. Wallace Shawn is more acceptable to me now, and his presence in the film was not overwhelming.

Update on 2014-04-28 00:33 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best Wallace? Gromit's buddy.

It's Always Winter in Russia (And the Cold Depths of Grant Ward's Eyes)

I saw “Winter Soldier” a few days ago. I would have seen it earlier, but I had to get “Mr. Peabody and Sherman” out of the way first. Canine time traveller and his young ward? That’s my jam right there. I’d delayed on that too much already, and I was almost at the point of feeling guilty. But I finally saw it, and it was joyous. All’s forgiven? Yeah. We’re good.

Anyway, watching the Captain America movie made me think more on the nature of the organisation of S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel. I’m not really one to question things like Hawkeye’s role on the Avengers. Dude’s an action star. He can pull his weight. He doesn’t have any explicit powers, but he does his thing, and he does it well. Similar things could be said about Black Widow, though her history leaves a bit of room for ambiguity about the possibility of secret Soviet enhancements to which she may have been subject.

But all of that’s fine. People like that are basically just behind Batman by a step or two in terms of narrative superpower. The only big thing that really separates them from the heroes of other action stories with slightly less tenuous ties to the real world is the fact that the nature of a comic book universe leaves them open to comparisons with people who are specifically said to have actual powers. In any case, they prove themselves. Black Widow jumps onto a supersonic alien glider without ripping her arms from her sockets. Hawkeye does his whole blind shot thing. Captain America says, “You can be my wingman anytime.” Something like that.

Notably, Hawkeye does not say, “Bullshit. You can be mine.” But there’s a very simple reason for that: you don’t say that to Captain America. All of them are still dangerous, though. That’s my point.

But then you go and watch “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” because you’re a comic book fanatic with an excess of free time, and you start to wonder. Here’s a show that focuses on a bunch of people who are also dangerous. They don’t have powers either. They don’t even have gimmicks. Do you think that any of them ever feel bothered by the fact that they didn’t make it onto the Avengers roster? Does Grant Ward ever grumble about his position in his organisation when he needs a break from grumbling about everything else?

“Freaking Hawkeye. I don’t see the appeal. Dude’s got a bow. Take away that, then what are you? Not a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, I’ll tell you that for nothing. Man, I could beat that guy up. Dude’s got, like, eight years on me. And who knows how much mileage. Have you seen his face? Guy needs to exfoliate or something. Don’t he know that perfectly smooth skin is S.H.I.E.L.D. regulation? Even Melinda manages it. Admittedly, she’s Asian, but she’s still probably old enough to be my mother or something. Well, maybe not my mother. This is network television. There’s no room for intimations of incest. Maybe, like, Fitz’s mother. Yeah. I could see myself getting it on with Fitz’s mom. But for Hawkeye not to even keep up with that piece of Christmas cake in the smoothness department is just downright disrespectful. A dereliction of duty, even! He should be given a red card, or whatever it is we do in these mysterious paramilitary organisations. Court-martial? Whatever! But definitely not given an Avengers spot! And I’m on cleanup duty? Fuck that! I mean, look at these cheeks! I’m a slice of prime cut hyperlethal action wrapped up in a baby-bottom visage! With a healthy side order of grimace. And that dilapidated old marksman gets a spot on the starting lineup? What gives?”

I don’t know. Maybe that’s why he shot that lady in the back? .

Update on 2014-04-21 00:35 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best assistant superhero to die, come back, turn evil for a while, and find redemption? In a domino mask?

Jason Todd.

Beneath the Mountain

The winds that whipped our brows abate.

The chills that cracked our will subside.

No peril stole our promised fate.

Naught stands against the force of pride.

Our revel’s full return now rings.

It brings a song to ancient ears

And stirs the souls of sleeping kings

That lie beneath the weight of years.

They wake in grace to timeless strains

That play for all their slumber missed.

They join the joyous tune’s refrains

With lips that tender triumph kissed.

They cry for aeons held in shade

And ages that were spent to yearn.

For every dream that ever strayed,

Their regal voices freely burn.

Their hymn extends through lightened halls

To boast of newly bolstered fame.

The toast is borne beyond their walls

Across the lands that they reclaim.

Beneath the barrows, bellows rise

And ride above their mountain tomb.

A godly throne of solid guise

Now stands where sombre graves did loom.

The lay at last has found its place

To rule within this hilly fain.

Below the mound, in earth’s embrace,

It sounds the dawn of awesome reign.

Give Me Magic

Wehhhhzz!

I promptly went off to see “The Grand Budapest Hotel,” and I obviously enjoyed it. It’s right behind “The Darjeeling Limited” on my list of Wes Anderson’s works, and even that is probably due in large part to the lesser presence of Owen Wilson. Honestly, if the whole movie had just been about Owen Wilson’s dealings with the Nazis in his occupied hotel, I would’ve been fine. I’d see that spinoff. Does Wes Anderson make franchises? He should. Damn it, Wes Anderson! Why won’t you run your intellectual properties into the ground like everyone else? Johnny Depp’s going to play Jack Sparrow until he dies, and we love him for it! Actually, he’ll probably steal the plot of his new computer movie and come back from death mainly to play Jack Sparrow for eternity. And to hang out with Tim Burton. Which is also great. They make a good team. Like you and Owen Wilson! Who will hopefully be returning in “Darjeeling 2: Unlimited”.

Incidentally, clapping at the end of a movie doesn't make it a play.

Update on 2014-03-30 19:23 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best movie of a play?

"A Midsummer Night's Dream". Stanley Tucci's Puck? I might not have been fully supportive when I first saw the little bald dude in the role 10 years ago, but I was an idiot in a lot of other ways then too. By contrast, I went to see the second "Percy Jackson" movie mainly to see the Tooch play Dionysus. There's a nice bit of symmetry in that somewhere.

Mars Attracts!

I just saw the “Veronica Mars” movie. I never saw the show, but the film basically turned out to be a cast reunion for “Party Down”, which is something I did watch. Also, I like the Dandy Warhols, who did the theme for the series. I just learned that shortly before I saw this. Anyway, everyone was in that movie. Seeing cinematic adaptations of shows I never watched is turning out to be quite enjoyable. This concurs with last week’s experience with Steve Coogan’s “Alan Partridge” movie. I don’t think that I’d ever even heard of that character before I saw the theatrical poster.

Incidentally, did I actually fail to notice the arrival of a new Wes Anderson comedy with all the people I love who weren’t in “Veronica Mars”? Because it’s here. It’s in Europe. In a hotel. It’s like everything I loved about “The Darjeeling Limited” with a greater focus on hotels. That’s perfect for me. I decided against seeing “Moonrise Kingdom”. The atmosphere didn’t seem right for me. A rural camp ground isn't generally my kind of setting for a fantasy. Hotels? Yes, sir. That's my jam right there. Right above trains that feel like mobile, horizontal hotels.

My family saw "Moonrise", but even they thought that it was too quiet, and they have a greater tolerance for quietude than I do. The only other review came from a friend with an abiding love of Wes Anderson’s oeuvre, and he spoke favourably of it. Still. He tried for a long time to get me into “Life Aquatic”, but it never really spoke to me in the same way. I think that my best experience with that guy came from “The Darjeeling Limited”, which I thoroughly adored, but nothing in his body of work really tells me that he’s a director I shouldn’t have a strong fondness for. Dude’s awesome. That’s what I’m saying. Wes and I also seem to share a taste for Owen Wilson’s performances. Now I just don’t know whether I should try to wait for that Anderson fan to see the movie. He’s my oldest friend, but it’s really hard to make plans around his schedule. Basically, if it’s not a Sunday, he can’t do it.

On another note, in the day since I wrote everything above this paragraph, I happened to learn that a “Party Down” movie might actually be happening, which gives me a bit of joy. I think that I’m really starting to like this trend.

Update on 2014-03-24 02:16 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Bruno versus Veronica? 

I don't know, man! These entities are lucky to exist on my periphery! I'm just going to give it to Veronica because her recency makes her more vivid in my mind.

Both have poise, though. I've got to give it up for that.

Sheer Fate

Where Has All the Sugar Gone?

Sugar Crisp! Am I right?

Perhaps I should elaborate.

I think that I should give credit to the marketing team on this one. When people talk about the power of advertising, they generally jump to Coca-Cola or something, but in those cases, the product does most of the work. Coca-Cola actually tastes good. Admittedly, getting people to drink it in the winter was a bit of a coup, but it’s still not that hard to sell in the first place. Advertising mainly just serves to reinforce its popularity.

This is not the case for Sugar Crisp. Those marketers had an implausible task, and they succeeded beyond sense.

I remember the excitement I felt when this stuff first appeared in my world. All of the elements of a joyous experience seemed to be there. First, you’ve got the name. That’s a name of pure, naked promise. Next, you’ve got the bear. The bear’s a primal, undeniably powerful symbol. It worked for Russia, it worked for the Norse, and it works for Sugar Crisp. But this is no ordinary bear. This is Sugar Bear, a bear with a calm demeanour and an easy smile. His mellow eyes have the seductive sort of heavy lids that would put Lauren Bacall to shame. If that’s not enough, he sometimes gets superpowers from his cereal.

For all the holdouts, there’s the theme song. Don’t doubt it, man. That bear can croon. If the Rat Pack ever lost Dean Martin, they could bring in Sugar Bear without skipping a beat.

All of this should combine to make something irresistible. Indeed, it would if it were employed in the service of a product that was even mediocre. For one brief, saccharine moment, I dreamt of the delight this cereal would bring. Upon receiving my first bowl of the stuff, I learned that that dream was empty, and I never looked back.

Until now.

I just don’t know how something with such a high amount of sugar could taste so bland. I can only imagine that someone took the contents of a pencil sharpener, condensed them, seasoned them with sawdust, and put the result in an exquisitely themed box. I don't know how something can taste dry when it's immersed in milk, but Sugar Crisp manages. I only know that the glory that seemed so certain in every facet of the concept that Sugar Crisp sold dissipated instantly with the first taste.

So. Sugar Crisp. Am I right?

Update on 2014-03-03 05:05 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best cover of the Sugar Crisp theme? 

In Which Jaymes Would Be Actively Prohibited From Putting the "Fun" in "Funeral"

I think that I found a new, irrevocable reason to avoid marriage. 

For me. For me to avoid marriage. Marriage is an awesome idea, but I've gradually been realising that I'd be absolutely terrible at it.

There are other reasons. Myriads. Over the past six years, they’ve been slowly building, and their sheer magnitude recently became impossible to ignore. Most of them, however, are theoretically negotiable. You know how it is. Some of them could be avoided with the right partner. Others could be erased if I were more willing to change.

But this fresh one seems too abhorrent to even permit thoughts of correction.

I’m terrible at dressing up for things. You know that I can dress up. Everyone does. But this sort of dressing up is just my alternative to dressing down, which is something that is still traumatically difficult for me. I’m not actually dressing up for anything. “Up” merely signifies the general direction of my dressing, but the exact vectors are left to me. Dressing up for occasions that aren’t specifically focused on my onstage spasms generally involves a trajectory that’s been planned without my input. Fortunately, I am rarely placed in positions that necessitate my refusal to attend such functions.

If I were to marry, I would theoretically be placed in those positions more often, but I highly doubt that any woman who’d even countenance the idea of marrying me would insist on managing my attire for an acquaintance’s holiday ball.

Have you ever wondered why people die? Listen. I’m not going to say that the gods invented death purely to create a type of gathering wherein my gauche ignorance of any semblance of sartorial subtlety would seem actively disrespectful. I’m just saying that it’s a workable theory.

Now, in my life, the only funerals that fall within the bounds of my notice are held in honour of those who’re close to me. Everyone grieves in his own way, and no one’s really going to tell me that I’m improperly dressed to mourn my loved one. I suppose that I don’t technically grieve, but if I care about someone enough to attend his funeral, it’s probably because he’s had a presence in my life that can’t be diminished by death. With that in mind, what reason do I have to grieve?

Maybe that’s why I never had a problem with “Kingdom of the Crystal Skull”. It couldn’t do anything to detract from my experience of its predecessors because that experience had already happened. Actually, that can’t be the reason at all. I just happened to enjoy that film. 

Anyway, no one presently has a reason to invite me to a stranger’s funeral. But all of that changes with a spouse. Obviously, there are the common discomforts that come with the melding of families, but I could probably avoid a lot of that. You only really see your partner’s people at holidays. Right? And those are festive events. And I’m always festive.

But that’s why funerals are terrible. You’re there purely as an adjunct to your spouse, and that’s a role that leaves very little room for personal eccentricities. That’s when I’d be out of options, wouldn’t it? That’s when I’d have to throw on a suit. A suit I don’t own. One with trousers through which the contours of my legs are not immediately visible. One that’s not shiny at all.

And I’d probably just fall asleep anyway.

And that’s why I can’t get married.

I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t like being there for people?

Update on 2014-02-24 04:41 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best funeral? The fiery kind.

Ginger Demon

This might be the most hilariously disgusting mascot I’ve ever seen. That would be true even if it weren’t representing something that is ostensibly supposed to go in your mouth. There’s probably something to be said for truth in advertising, but this is not the place. Honestly, the thing looks as though it’s moulting. He looks like Frankenstein’s monster without the poise.

That’s a nice cushion behind him, though. That cushion would be a better mascot. My vote’s for the cushion.

But I don’t really eat much ginger anyway.

Update on 2014-02-16 05:55 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Favourite mascot? Count Chocula. I've never tried his cereal, but that guy has style.

"Flash" Is a Great Name in the Majority of Situations

The name speaks less of fresh, delicious vegetables and more of well groomed rocks. 

I've been meaning to watch "Flash Gordon" for a while now. Perhaps this time could be measured in years. For some reason, I never got around to it. This seemed weird to me, but I've come to discover that my procrastination served a higher purpose. A local theatre played the majestic space opera recently, which gave me the opportunity to experience the film for the first time on the big screen. In full consideration, this was the ideal way to be introduced to it. I also invited Dave along, but it was a while before I learned that he'd agreed without having any actual concept of the movie, which can only serve as an enhancement to the whole ordeal. This willingness also says lovely things about him in my mind.

For some reason, he vaguely thought that it was a football movie. I suppose that there's the faintest grain of truth in this, but it reminded me of my introduction to James Bond on my eigth birthday. For some reason, I was brought without input to an IMAX screening of "Tomorrow Never Dies" by my parents. It instantly brought out my passion, but I remember being very reluctant on the journey to the theatre, for the only thing I knew about James Bond was a foggy notion about his affinity for special shoes. I thought that he might have been a cobbler or something. The idea that his footwear contained fantastical devices never occurred to me. I wasn't even really sure that he was fictional before that. In fairness, his name was specifically chosen because it was boring. A child could be forgiven for steering away from such things. I had the same issue with Harry Potter before the first book was foisted upon me during a day of sickness in elementary school. My tastse for euphony meant that I frequently neglected to gather information on anything with a boring title. Seriously, man. My name's Jaymes Buckman. If your appellation can't match that, I'm less inclined to pay attention.

In these days of gritty 007 movies, the modern answer to the whimsy and adventure of the character's classic era is most obviously embodied in the "Iron Man" film series, and I can't ignore the possibility that the names in those franchise to do something to make it more immediately attractive to the youths who would have looked to Her Majesty's top agent for fantasy in earlier times. Even if you take away the superhero sobriquet, you're still left with "Tony Stark", which is just brilliant. Even the supporting cast have names that soundly defeat the mysterious mongrams of the British intelligence service's employees. From whom would you take orders? M? No, man. Nick Fury! There's a name that tells you everything you need to know immediately. Actually, while we're on the subject, I can't go amiss by mentioning that "Judi Dench" is far more intriguing to the ear than "M", and that's true even without the honorific. I am, however, willing to admit that "Pepper Potts" and "Moneypenny" stand on roughly equal ground.

Anyway, despite my passing familiarity with some of the more salient names in the cast of "Flash Gordon", both of us were mildly surprised to notice the presence of Richard O'Brien from "The Rocky Horror Picture Show", a shared favourite. At the very least, that seemed appropriate.

Update on 2014-02-10 01:29 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best Flash? Bart Allen.

Medical Miracles

In the middle of the last week, I realised that there were two things that I had to do at the beginning of February. One was attending a visiting friend's concert, and the other was visiting the dentist's office. I decided to get the latter out of the way first.

I'm not fond of visiting the dentist. There isn't a lot of pain, but they always think that I'm on drugs, and it's not for the usual reasons. But I went. I dealt with it. I did it in service of enjoying my friend's show with a clear head.

Actually, I should talk about that show for a moment. The band's called Tropical Dripps, and the friend who started it was Hot Apollo's first bassist. We parted amicably when he realised that he had to be the leader of his own band, and he's been making a success of that plan since. You can check them out at tropicaldripps.bandcamp.com. You really should. 

Anyway, after I'd finished the day's business at the dentist's office, they sent me on my way with a record, which I promptly forgot to remove from my bag.

My next lapse of memory came on the following day when I left for the Dripps show at a local sushi house without my identification. This can be partially attributed to the fact that I generally don't think of the need for such things at a restaurant, but apparently some places have age limits at night. I don't know, man. I'm no restaurateur. I don't even spend much time at the places.

I get there around midnight. After a casual discussion with the doorman about the necessity of identification, I begin to leave. As I stand by the door, my fingers sift through the contents of my bag in vain hope for some form of salvation. That's when I realise that I still have the record from my dental appointment. It has no picture, but it has my birth date and a variant of my name. At this point in the night, that's enough for the doorman. 

When I got in, I discovered that I'd missed my friend's set, but I got to see the guy for the first time in ages, and I found some enjoyment in the performances of the other bands. 

In the end, I was gratified to note that my reluctant visit to the dentist, which I'd scheduled mainly to heighten my enjoyment of the weekend, was actually crucial to enacting my weekend plans at all.

Update on 2014-02-03 06:02 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best tooth? Sweet.

Cosmic Regalia

Why are astronauts always wearing full space gear in their photographs? That stuff can’t be comfortable. Right? But every astronaut in the history of NASA always has the same outfit with the same pose against the same backdrop. The last two parts make the most sense, but I can’t imagine that everyone wants to wear that orange monstrosity when circumstances don’t dictate it. Oh, I’m sure that some people enjoy the pomp and tradition. That’s fine. But there must be many who don’t want to have to deal with the whole apparatus in circumstances that don’t actually necessitate it. They wear those things for months at a time. I can’t believe that they want to take up such burdens when they’re on Earth. Two or three probably just want to wear pyjamas to the shoot. What’s wrong with that? They sacrifice all sorts of worldly comforts while they’re out and about in the frigid void. I can’t honestly fathom the imposition of an extra inconvenience for a meagre bit of publicity.

“But Jaymes!” you say. “You wander around in ridiculous outfits all the time! Surely that can be inconvenient!”

But that is my comfort, and that’s my choice. It’s not done out of solemn duty to external tradition. I only expect the same freedom for the servitors of extraterrestrial exploration.

Update on 2014-01-27 05:30 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Rocket Robin Hood versus Sherlock Holmes of the 22nd century? When all else is equal, the guy with the jetpack is going to win. Robot Watson, who may more properly be called "Robotson", could probably even things up somewhat, but that would give Robin implicit permission to call in his Merry Men. That would be a massacre.

Resistance Training

I’ve been trying. I honestly have. I think that I’ve managed to increase my tolerance to the cold by 10 degrees. At least. That’s not much. I’m well aware. What can one say? I’m a creature of heat. I can’t easily abide the frosty winds. But the season seems incapable of meeting me in the middle.

We were having some good days. I’m on the verge of love for the zero temperature. Unless I’m already cold, that kind of thing seems quite balmy in the absence of wind. After the montoh's frigid start, I forced myself to hope that things had levelled off. Wouldn’t that have been fantastic? Indeed. Indeed it would have been. But that doesn’t appear to be the case. Instead, I’m getting all of this randomness. As though it felt some incorrigible desire to reinforce the popular antipathy for Mondays, the cold has been making a point of giving its worst directly after the weekend. As I post this, things shall surely be progressing towards their weekly nadir.

But do you know the worst part?

It’s forcing me to wear a hat.

Update on 2014-01-20 02:21 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Coldest part? Fingertips. 

Keep On Rocking in the New Year

Well, Hot Apollo's fresh from our first show of the year, which was also the debut of our new drummer, Aldo Camarena. It was truly fabulous to get back out there with full love and electricity. We'll be doing more of that quite soon. 

Update on 2014-01-13 03:22 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best drummer? Totally.

Furry Little Tramps

I’ve come to notice that raccoons, the vagrants of the trees, are still rather active in this weather. They are called the vagrants of the trees, aren’t they? I’m sure that people have referred to them like that before. It’s just striking me now because their spirits at this time of year seem to be significantly higher than those of the regular kind of vagrant. This is despite the similarities in their dietary habits and living conditions.

“But Jaymes!” some might say. To that I say, “Jaymes!” I say this because I really just love hearing my own name. But some others might continue.

“But Jaymes, the raccoon revels in these temperatures due to its natural fur coating, which protects it from the elements that are so inimical to those who would walk the world upon two legs.”

Well, I often wear enough fur to cover three quarters of a raccoon at least, yet I’m frequently cold. I even throw on feathers. Admittedly, all of this is synthetic. Still, the average homeless man is quite adept in the use of layers, and it is not too uncommon to see a vagrant whose outfit exceeds the thickness of a raccoon’s integument. Perhaps I have a right to be surprised at the ineffectiveness of this strategy in raising the wearer’s comfort levels to those of the legendary raccoon. Admittedly, I gave up on warmth ages ago. I dress for aesthetics because I don’t believe that attempts to dress practically will actually do anything to affect my perception of the temperature. Surprise might not be appropriate.

Raccoons also seem to react with far greater glee to a discarded sandwich than a vagrant would. Conversely, raccoons don’t seem to receive small change with the same relish that homeless men display. On this, I think that I must take the side of the raccoons. The market value of a discarded sandwich is probably equal to the sum of several quarters.  

Update on 2014-01-06 03:25 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best rodent? Squirrel.

New Show!

Good news, dudes! Hot Apollo are taking to the stage again on the 8th of January at The Cage! The Cage is a lovely little venue at 292 College. Near Spadina!

This will be the inaugural show of our new drummer, who currently goes by the name of Aldo Camarena because he hasn’t been able to think of a good pseudonym. I like “Aldo Camarena”, though. Do you? Maybe we’ll take a poll!

Everyone should totally come. It’ll probably be the greatest Wednesday in recent memory. It’s definitely going to be one of my favourites, though that could be helped by the fact that it’s also the date of the debut of Peter David’s new “X-Factor” series.

Anyway, it’s going to be a great day for a variety of reasons, and Hot Apollo is foremost among those. Love and luck!

Snatching Bodies From Cold, Dead Bodies

Remember the Body Snatchers? They were pretty big in 1956. And 1978. And 1993. And they might have popped up again in 2007. Their whole deal basically involved the implementation of a perfectly ordered universe through the removal of emotion. They caused problems for Earth by replacing its inhabitants with stoic substitutes that were beholden to a hive mind. The mechanism was usually a botanical pod of some sort. An admirable goal? Perhaps. But the same could be said about communism.

Anyway. I always wondered about what the Snatchers did with the people who were already emotionless. There are people who dedicate their entire lives to cold logic and exclude all else, and I’m sure that a lot of them would be able to get along with the pod people. What would happen if the pods landed in Gotham City? I’m not really thinking about the potential for their defeat at the hands of the Batman, though a case could admittedly be made for that. I’ll just assume that he’s out of town for the moment. Maybe he’s dealing with some galactic Justice League business or something. That sort of thing. I’d really just like to see the pod people meet Mr. Freeze. At his best, I think that he actually makes the whole emotionless thing work even better than they do. He’d intimidate the pods before they got a chance to turn him.

“Guys, I know that we’re here to spread implacable logic and order throughout the cosmos and all that, but this dude’s taken it to a whole other level. Dude said that he's beyond emotions. What am I even supposed to do with that? I’m not sure that I’m entirely comfortable with this Earth place. Can we just, like, leave it for now and maybe circle around back to it when we’re done with the rest of the universe? Who’s with me?”

 “Yeah, and not for nothing, but isn’t cold supposed to be bad for plants? Which is basically what we are? Like, I’m no botanist or whatever, but this Freeze guy seems to have us fucked from both sides here. Let’s, uh . . . Let’s skadoodle.”

“Yeah, on second thought, let’s not take the Earth. It is a silly place.”

Update on 2013-12-23 01:09 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Cyclops or Mr. Freeze. Who wears red sunglasses better?

Cyclops. Even Gambit started imitating his look.

A Gorgeous Abortion

For the past half decade, I’ve been getting this sort of hollow expectant feeling on the periphery at this time of year. For clarity’s sake, I’ll state right now that it’s none of that holiday depression nonsense. That stuff’s for the lonely and the poor, and while I might feel like both of those things sometimes, I know that I’m technically neither. The whole Christmas suicide thing is rather baffling. The whole world’s in celebration mode! I know that this spirit is rarely capable of removing your problems, but at the very least it should be enough to motivate you to postpone your death plans for a few weeks. If you’re going to kill yourself at any point in the winter, you should do it right after Christmas. The beginning of January’s perfect. If you do it then, you’ll be dead before all the feelings of camaraderie and charity fade. Your final memories will be ones of oecumenical joy. Also, you won’t have to worry about new year resolutions. Bonus!

None of that’s related to what I’ve been experiencing for the last five years, though. I believe that I mentioned that. On the contrary, the little empty corner of my soul is reserved for something far shallower.

At the end of the year 2007, I had the privilege of great boredom during the theatrical reign of an adaptation of one of my favourite childhood novels, “The Golden Compass”. It wasn’t actually much of a reign, though. It felt huge to me at the time, and the fact that my friends shared my fervour meant that I was drawn to several repeat viewings. Unfortunately, the rather mediocre business it did served to dash the promises of sequels.

This did not become clear to me for a while.

I just expected that “The Subtle Knife” would follow by the next Christmas. When that season strode in, I was bemused by the thorough absence of any sign or portent of the trilogy’s middle installment. Then I thought, “Bah! It’s probably just one of those two-year cycles. The director’s brilliant. Daniel Craig’s huge. They’ve obviously just been busy. Next year, baby.”

I think that I finally got around to the barest bit of research at some point during the following 12 months. That’s when I finally took notice of the wider public’s apparent apathy and the director’s subsequent feelings of resigned acceptance of the indefinite hiatus that was forced upon his stillborn franchise. I didn’t really focus on that part, though. There seemed to be a fatuous glimmer of hope in all of this, and I was glad to blow upon those embers.

Whenever the anniversary of the movie’s release sauntered along, the ashes of the story’s cinematic future glowed anew within my heart. Recently, I decided to take a slightly closer look at this unfulfilled desire. This finally allowed me to fully remember something that was clear when I first read those books.

The first book was my favourite by a prodigious margin. In contrast to the fairy tale beginnings and epic escalation of “The Golden Compass”, “The Subtle Knife” opened with the death of a cynical child’s parent in a world without miracles, and “The Amber Spyglass” ended with the erasure of the hero’s childhood and most of its vestiges. The series was grand and beautiful, and I honestly enjoyed reading every piece of it, but I now realise that a fair bit of that had to do with the momentum of the initial book. The fantastical spirit that was still somehow intact after the tribulations of that first story was not maintained in its undiluted state through the sequels. This was obviously an adept execution of a metaphor for the onset of adulthood, but the fact that childlike wonder is one of my primary motivations means that such themes are never completely satisfying to me. There’s abundant space for ugliness in fantasy, but I always prefer to approach it with a touch of ecstasy. That’s partially why the most horrific aspects of Greek mythology are more attractive to me than the comparatively naturalistic way in which the Bible renders suffering.

Anyway, I think that I’m essentially at peace with the whole situation now. The film didn’t conclude neatly, but that makes perfect sense to my conception of life. The ending it has is just the horizon of the next adventure.

Update on 2013-12-16 01:15 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best dark material? Velvet.

Red Flagon

After a succession of cancelled attempts that began just after the film’s release, I finally went with some friends to see “Thor 2” at Rainbow Cinema. It’s not my favourite theatre, but everyone else seems to love it, and there’s a fatuous kind of propriety in being taken to Asgard via a rainbow.

The film was worth the wait, though. That wasn’t surprising to me. To satisfy me, the movie basically just had to show up. Some spectacular mess would have needed to happen in order to disappoint me. This was basically like “Silence of the Lambs” with Loki in place of Anthony Hopkins and Anthony Hopkins in some other role. And Loki’s a petulant young godling instead of an urbane cannibal. And the bad guy’s an elf instead of a fairy. In a very real sense, the movie wasn’t actually like “Silence of the Lambs” at all, but in a truer, deeper, more meaningful, and far less coherent sense, it was almost exactly like “Silence of the Lambs”.

Update on 2013-12-09 03:09 by Jaymes Buckman

Bonus Question!

Best Scandinavian cannibal? Grendel.