The Best Opening Sequence

28 04 2015

The Best Opening Sequence For a TV Series Ever, in my expert opinion, belongs to Mad Men.

It perfectly captures the slow but inevitable disintegration of white male privilege, experienced through a cushioning haze of alcohol. With only a couple episodes left to go, it seems Don Draper’s whole life may disintegrate in similar fashion.
Am I wrong? Got a better opening sequence contender? I bet you don’t.


28 04 2015

NFddThe post without spoilers…is not this post

I feel I should say something about about the Daredevil series on Netflix.

And that is, it’s excellent. (Okay, we done here?)

(Not quite.) Blogger Sean T. Collins is recapping all the episodes and extolling their glories better than I could, so I will just mention some of my favorite things about the series.

1. Universes. I know, just one post ago I was whining about having to keep up with interconnected stories all happening in one universe. But Daredevil and The Avengers enrich each other. The Avengers gets grounded in the fallout seen in Daredevil; New York is still recovering from the repelled alien invasion, and the lucrative rebuilding contracts fuel a burgeoning criminal empire in Hell’s Kitchen. And Matt Murdock’s decision to put on a mask and beat up criminals makes a lot more sense in a world where Iron Man and Captain America have already made headlines. Also; The Avengers and all the movies leading up to it (together making a series just a bit longer than Daredevil’s 13 hours) tell a sprawling, colorful epic of repulsor rays and flying demigods. Daredevil is a close, intimate, bloody tale, involving two only slightly superhuman people, both struggling to determine right from wrong. The contrast fills out the setting of both series. Together they are greater than the sum of their parts. That’s how to make a universe.

2. The Kingpin. Another thing I’ve sort of been meaning to whine about is a tendency toward non-bad-guy-bad-guys. Maybe I’ll get into that in another post. Suffice to say, I’ve been annoyed by cheaply sympathetic antagonists and essentially toothless conflicts. But as with universes, Daredevil does it right. The show gives us plenty of material to sympathize with Wilson Fisk, but doesn’t neglect his repulsive, monstrous side. Vanessa is complex enough to make their romance convincing, humanizing but not sanitizing. Most of all, while Fisk is the antagonist to Murdock, they are also interdependent; defining each other, constantly creating each other, locked in an eternal struggle that is about much more than one guy winning and one losing. That kind of narrative is the best thing about the superhero genre.

3. Violence Has Consequences. Matt Murdock’s mission as Daredevil is difficult. It would make most of the Avengers give up and run away to the Bahamas. He gets severely injured over and over. During the riveting corridor fight scene in episode 2, he repeatedly collapses in between thug attacks. HIs friends get hurt, or hurt others and face an even greater psychological toll. Murdock is a catholic, and a lawyer, and from both of those perspectives his actions as Daredevil are at best highly problematic. He knows he’s giving in to rage, and he struggles to reconcile his good intentions with his base actions. HIs priest offers him a wonderfully Manichaean solution; even the devil can serve the greater good.

4. The Costume. My one complaint about the show (and it is small) is the shying away from costumes and superhero names. Arguably the colorful costumes and names are the most childish aspects of the superhero genre, and people who want to tell sophisticated superhero stories try to avoid them. I think this is a big mistake. The name and the iconic look are integral parts of the superhero, offering a window into the character as expressed by their powers and/or tactics. No one in Daredevil ever calls Fisk “Kingpin,” which is just a missed opportunity given that he doesn’t want his name spoken aloud. Neither the name “Daredevil” nor the signature red costume appear until the final episode, in effect making the whole series an origin story, something I wish we could spend less screen time on in general. However, when Matt finally does appear in red horned body armor, it’s worth the wait. Because he looks batshit crazy. I don’t know if that was the intention, but seeing him in that mask made me feel that a line had been crossed, that whatever separates Daredevil and the Kingpin is more tenuous than anyone imagined.

Daredevil is reportedly the first of four series coming to Netflix, which will culminate in The Defenders. I’m on board, Marvel and Netflix. Don’t blow it!

Universe Fatigue

8 04 2015

Mere days after my last post about the upcoming shake-up at Marvel Comics, DC has announced that they will make another round of big changes this summer. The plan is to bring more diversity to creators and characters, and de-emphasize universal continuity in favor of letting stories and characters breathe. Hooray DC!

As for Marvel…I keep searching the internet for some indication that they’re not really moving everything to a patchwork planet where everyone will just duke it out all the time, but I have not found any such indication. Of course, nothing is really permanent in superhero comics, and when everyone gets sick of Battleworld in a few years they will surely return to Earth. Battleworld would make a fun miniseries, but as a master plan, it’s just so aggressively dumb. I guess one way to maintain universal continuity is to throw out those pesky plot points altogether.

I’ve read comics pretty much my whole life. I’ve never tried too hard to get to know the whole universes of either Marvel or DC, until the recent reboots gave me a chance to follow along from the beginning. Marvel’s Ultimate Universe was great for several years, but a pile-up of crossover events and mini-relaunches eventually made it impossible to follow.

(At least, impossible to follow in the trade paperbacks, which are published a year or more after the comic magazines and are generally not shelved in any sensible order in the stores. But I’m sorry, I’m not paying $3-$4 for a 22 page pamphlet that is only a fragment of a story.)

DC’s New 52 was more uneven, and much more short lived than the Ultimate Universe. (For an excellent breakdown of the New 52 launch, and the market forces driving both Marvel and DC, read this.) But over the next couple of years, I’m guessing DC will put the smack down on Marvel. At least in their paper publications.

Marvel Studios still seems to have the lock on the movies and tv series, with several popular, interlocking franchises, and DC/Warner Brothers struggling to get a decent movie out since The Dark Knight. I should be thrilled at the mess of Marvel movies coming out over the next 4 years. (I am super excited about Daredevil hitting Netflix on Friday, despite all my complaining.) But part of me is just tired. It’s great that all these characters live in the same universe, it’s great when they interact with each other, but does every movie, episode, and comic have to be true to a universal canon? Can’t we all just relax a little bit, and accept that different authors will tell different, sometimes contradictory stories?

I read an article recently– and my apologies, the article and it’s author are lost to the mists of the internet– that talked about the difference between keeping an archive and telling a story. I think actually it was a review of The Battle of Five Armies. And the critic felt that instead of telling a story, Jackson was obsessively archiving Middle Earth. And that there is this impulse among nerds to archive all the background and history of fictional worlds, which can be a fine hobby, or (and here I may be mixing the article with my own opinions) an unhealthy variety of escapism that deadens the story by reducing it to a set of statistics.

All that energy spent archiving would be better spent seeking out new authors and new stories, or better yet, creating one’s own. In a worst case scenario, the marketplace gets flooded with remakes, reboots, and tweaks, by people who are better researchers than creators.

Is that where we are? It kinda looks like it. Between the lack of originality and the clear cash-grabbiness of multiple interlocking properties, I wish I could turn my back on the whole thing.

But I can’t. Not yet. Daredevil on Friday!!

OK, but…”Battleworld??”

22 01 2015


Followers of this blog may remember that back in 2011, when DC comics rebooted their whole publication line, I took the opportunity to dive in. The success of the New 52, by every measure, is mixed. DC got a bump in sales, but it hasn’t held up. All the reader commentary I’ve seen skews negative. Personally I’ve enjoyed a handful of titles by my favorite writers, and found the rest to be dumb (this has been my experience of superhero comics since 1986.)

Now Marvel is planning something very similar; starting in May, the Marvel universe is ending. They’re being a little coy about what that means exactly. They probably don’t want it to sound like the New 52, but that’s what it sounds like. Is Marvel about to blow it? Or will this be a savvy move that energizes and streamlines the myriad storylines of Marvel characters?

To be precise (bear with me here), both Marvel Universes are ending: the Marvel Universe, and the Ultimate Marvel Universe. The Marvel Universe is where all the characters started, and it essentially maintains their histories going back to the 1961 debut issues. The Ultimate Universe was launched in 2000, and re-told the origins and classics storylines of the core characters, set in the present day and updated for a contemporary audience. I have more to say about this dual universe dynamic, but I’ll save it for another post.

Now the two universes are going to “smash together” due to events in the upcoming Secret Wars miniseries. Parts of each universe will survive, in something called Battleworld.

What the heck is Battleworld? Marvel Editor-in-Chief Axel Alonso and Senior Vice President of Publishing and Executive Editor Tom Brevoort broke the news, but it doesn’t make a lot of sense. “Once we hit Secret Wars #1, there is no Marvel Universe, Ultimate Universe, or any other. It’s all Battleworld,” said Brevoort. And from Newsarama, “by the time Secret Wars #1 hits the stands in May, every world in Marvel’s multiverse will be destroyed, with pieces of each forming Battleworld, the staging ground for the Secret Wars storyline.”

So is Battleworld a planet? Made of pieces of other planets? Where all the characters engage in an endless fight tournament? Is Marvel Comics becoming Battleworld Comics, dedicated soully to answering the age old question of “who would win in a fight between” in all possible permutations?*

That sounds idiotic. And its more a reflection of poor spokesman-ship than actual plans for the universe, I’m guessing.

What this really sounds like is Disney Studios looking for a way to bring the comics, movies, and tv shows into closer alignment, in a way that is largely ignorant of what makes comic books tick.

I have to say I would welcome a New 52 style reboot. Especially one that had learned from the New 52’s missteps, that took a holistic view of the Marvel Universe(s), that was carefully crafted to be accessible, entertaining, and relevant.

Will that happen? Don’t bet your foil-embossed variant covers on it.

*A universe-wide fight tournament was basically the scenario for the original Secret Wars miniseries in the 80s. Not a good sign if you ask me.

There Is No “We”

17 12 2014

The report is out: the CIA tortured prisoners (and lied about the nature, extent, and effectiveness of it.) One phrase I hear in a lot of outraged responses is “That’s not who we are.” But clearly it is who we are, because we did it.
Plenty of us are disgusted, ashamed, horrified, but there is also a segment of the population for whom torture is not a problem. How can we call ourselves one society with two viewpoints so wildly opposed? I’m starting to think we can’t.
This is the only way I can live with the torture report– to consider those in favor of torture as another country, a foreign subculture. I know it’s a cop-out to just say the divide can never be crossed. The enormity of the crime of torture demands (besides prosecution of all responsible) an effort to convince the other side that it’s wrong. Maybe I’m just tired, but honestly, does anyone see that working out?
The gridlock in congress is just a symptom. Gun rights, cop shootings, gay marriage, income tax, even women making video games; issues have become fault lines that no amount of argument or entreaty will entice people to cross. We are not a society, because we’re not interested in being one. We’re not interested in unity. We’re only interested in scoring points against the other side. I’m as guilty of it as anyone.
I don’t see any way out of it.
Well, okay, that’s not exactly true. I do believe that on many of these issues, the opposing viewpoint is a small minority that is disproportionately represented in the media and the government. If we had accurate representation, things would be different. But that’s a whole other topic.
I guess my point is, if we’re going to advocate for a national conversation about anything, we need to start from the premise that we really aren’t one people. We are a lot of seriously aggrieved subsets demanding satisfaction. We need to either be granted satisfaction, or convinced to give up on it.
How is that ever going to happen?
What it will take is leadership. Courageous, undaunted leadership in the face of deeply entrenched powers that profit from the status quo. That, or the caveman minority gives up on all their backwards bullshit. One seems about as likely as the other.

Jodorosky’s Dune: Flawed Prophecy

16 09 2014

One of Moebius’ costume designs for Dune. Wings don’t make an angel.

Jodorowsky’s Dune is a documentary about a movie that was never made. Cult filmmaker Alejandro Jodorowsky, having had great success in Europe with his 1973 surreal western The Holy Mountain, was given free reign by producer Michel Seydoux to make a new movie. He wanted to make Dune. Despite extensive pre-production work, including a complete storyboard of 3,000 images by the legendary Moebius, the film was never made. I watched the documentary. I’ve seen one Jodorowsky film (1970’s El Topo, another surreal western) and I’ve read many volumes of his comics, and I think the failure of his Dune was the best case scenario.

I discovered French artist Moebius as a teenager, when Marvel’s Epic imprint started publishing English translations of his comics. They are pure magic and I devoured all I could find. He collaborated with Jodorowsky to create The Incal, a sprawling esoteric space opera. I picked up The Incal for Moebius’ art, but I was also transported by Jodorowsky’s story, which builds an accessible science fiction world around colossal, reality-plumbing, spirit-bending themes.

As an adult, I find more and more to appreciate in Moebius’ art, but I find Jodorowsky lacking as an author. I still enjoy the wildly cosmic drama of The Incal, but the characterization is thin at best, and the dialog is pretty ham-fisted. The concepts are big and daring, but don’t add up to much in the end. It feels like it was written in a breathless rush of late-night, youthful, mystic self-righteousness… the mental state you get in college before you have to actually get a job.

Jodorowsky tells us that his ambition with Dune was to make a movie that would change the world, provide the effects of drugs without drugs, explode young minds: “…a movie that is a prophet.” I can see similar motives at work in El Topo and The Incal. But like The Incal, El Topo falls short. I found it to be a movie that creates the sensation of expanding your mind, without actually doing it. Which I suspect (I can’t speak from experience) is the same thing hallucinogenic drugs do. It’s a thrilling experience, but ultimately empty.

Can a work of art function as an expander of the consciousness? Absolutely. One might argue that all great art does precisely that. I have to admire Jodorowsky’s audacity, but I feel like while he’s lobbing cinematic missiles at the walls that bind the spirit, he’s neglecting his art. In the end it comes off as self-aggrandizing; he wants to be the guy that brings enlightenment more than he wants everyone to be enlightened. He also clearly has an attachment to violence, which is fine for an artist, but a deal-breaker for a guru (in my humble opinion as an unstudied humanist).

I’m probably coming off as a terrible old stick in the mud. Won’t do drugs, dismissive of youthful optimism, blah blah blah. The thing is, what Jodorowsky wants for his works, I want for them too. I would love to have my mind legitimately exploded. I crave it as much as he craves granting it. As an audience I’m dying to hurl my disbelief into the fire. Sometimes a work of art lets me do it, and I’m thrilled. But many works of art don’t, and life’s too short to pretend they do.

After his Dune movie fell apart, Jodorowsky started writing comics. It seems clear that he poured everything he wasn’t able to say with Dune into The Incal, and a few spin-off series including La Caste Des Meta-Barons, beautifully illustrated by Juan Gimenez. (I found a volume of Meta-Barons on a trip to France in 1995, and have since collected all 8 volumes in French. I have to struggle a bit to read French, but it makes the writing more palatable.) Meta-barons has some mystic elements, but it is more of a straight space-opera than the Incal. Still, it is the most operatic of space-operas, steeped in bloody tragedy and impossible stakes.

My biggest complaint with many film adaptations is that they are so different from the source material, they’d work better as wholly original stories. Jodorowsky’s Dune describes a movie like that, straying far away from Frank Herbert’s book. Jodorowsky, unable to adapt Dune, went out and authored many original stories. And they are aggressively, flamboyantly original, and thus destined to be classics.

I met Alejandro Jodorowsky at the San Diego Comic Con in the early 2000s. His attendance was not well publicized, and I was surprised to find him there. He was humble, eminently friendly, happy to sign a book and to take a copy of the ridiculous zine I was handing out. That encounter is one of the most enduring treasures I took away from Comic Con. It’s lucky– for me certainly, for the world I believe– that Jodorowsky’s Dune never materialized. His comics are a far better legacy.


16 07 2014

Sunday night, Marcie couldn’t sleep. At 3:30 in the morning she went out to the couch. She was groggily trying to set the alarm on her phone when it rang. I found this out minutes later when she shook me awake to tell me who called: Open Adoption and Family Services. They wanted to know if we would adopt a baby who had  been born hours before, outside of Seattle.

The first flight out of Minneapolis we could get was at 12:50 pm. We used the morning to clean the house, arrange for dog care, and tie up loose ends with work. I should have been terrified. We were about to become parents. Everything would change forever. But I was weirdly calm. If the call had come last year, or the year before, or the year before that, I would have been terrified. But by now, we were more than ready.

Up until eighteen months ago, we were living in Portland. During a couple years of unsuccessful fertility treatments, we learned about open adoption from Dan Savage’s book The Kid. For those who may not know; in open adoption, the adoptive parents are the parents, but the birth parents are part of the family. They visit regularly, and the child knows about them from the beginning. It may sound scary, but it’s clearly better for the child than wondering where he came from or why the birth parents chose adoption. And it’s better for the birth parents than wondering what became of their child. And it’s also better for us, knowing from the beginning that the birth family is as committed as we are to us being the parents.

We went through the training with OA&FS, had our home study done, our backgrounds checked, our fingers printed, built our autobiographies and photo collages, and attended monthly support groups for waiting families. We met lots of wonderful people in the waiting pool and formed some lasting friendships. The average wait is 12-18 months, but the actual wait time is totally random; it just depends on when a birth family chooses you. For the first year, we didn’t sweat it. We were still new to the pool, and parenting was still a scary prospect. We spent a lot of time with friends who had small children, picking up whatever practice we could. As the second year wore on, we started to get demoralized. All of our friends from our initial training had adopted, and we were thrilled for them of course, but becoming anxious for our turn. The wait is a strange period of zero feedback. Birth mothers may or may not be looking at our file, and they may be strongly considering us and choosing someone else based on the tiniest random detail. We don’t know. It feels like being stranded on an island, contemplating the vast odds against anyone receiving our message in a bottle.

Right around the two year mark, we moved to Minneapolis. We felt confident it was the right career move for Marcie, and that a new adventure would be good for us. We could stay registered with OA&FS. Most of their clients are in the Pacific Northwest, but our counselor told us that waiting families outside the region get chosen all the time. It’s just impossible to predict who gets chosen and why. Living in the Midwest might reduce our odds, but we couldn’t make a decision on the  move based on the entirely unknown preferences of our entirely unknown future birth family.

Our file was put on hold until we could complete a home study for our new home. In the end it took six months, and much more money than we expected, to get ourselves in accordance with Minnesota’s requirements. Marcie’s relatives in the Twin Cities and our many new friends gave us great support, but we still found ourselves in culture shock. And we got here just in time for the worst winter in 30 years. We couldn’t help but feel that moving far away from our adoption agency had torpedoed our chances of being chosen.

In June, it had been three years since we entered the pool. It was starting to feel like our time was running out. We had always wanted to adopt an infant, but we started to seriously consider adopting older children through the state. We planned to attend an informational meeting about state adoption in mid July. A week before that meeting, we got the call.

We didn’t know how long our stay in Washington would be. Our agencies in Washington and Minnesota would have to complete an interstate compact before we could take the baby home. Early in our training, we were told of the possibility of placing outside our home state, and living in a hotel for a week or more while the papers finalized. We packed a lot of clothes, wrapped the car seat in a giant black garbage bag, and went to the airport.

Checked in and past security, we took some time to assess over lunch. The one thing we really needed was a name. We’d talked about names periodically, more often in the first year of our wait. Usually it was me suggesting some outlandish name and Marcie vetoing it. But now the pressure was on. We pulled up a list of baby names on Marcie’s phone. A handful jumped out at us. It would take us until the following morning to officially settle on Wyatt. That name never came up in any of our prior searches, which is nice. It kind of feels like it was his name all along.


in the hotel

We made it to the hospital around 5 pm on Monday. A counselor from the Seattle office of OA&FS met us in the birthing center lobby, and informed us that the birthmother had already left. She was struggling with some things and decided to leave the hospital as soon as they would let her go.  We don’t know a lot about her, but we know she was committed to an open adoption, and we know she overcame significant obstacles in order for us to adopt her baby. We are maintaining open lines of communication, and we hope to meet her when she is ready.

Wyatt was sleeping in the nursery. There were two cushy recliners next to his cradle where we could sit and hold him and feed him. We stayed in the hospital the first night. The nurses made sure we ordered food before the kitchen closed. They had a room for us– a nesting room normally used by parents who had just given birth. As far as the hospital was concerned, new parents are new parents. Now, it’s not like we’ve been shunned or oppressed based on our choice to adopt, but somehow the attitude at the hospital was really refreshing. It also brought home the reality that we were now parents.

At 48 hours old, Wyatt was discharged from the hospital, and we all moved into a hotel a block down the street. At this point we determined to shamelessly use our story for added sympathy from any and all service providers. It turned out the hotel had a discount rate for people coming from the hospital, and they left a small gift basket in our room. They also provided a pack’n’play, but it wouldn’t stay assembled, so we just let Wyatt lay on one of the beds.

The hotel offered breakfast every day. For all our other meals, I walked across the street to a slightly divey family restaurant for take-out. We thought we’d be able to just kick back and bond with the baby during our hotel stay, but there were endless amounts of stuff to do, largely due to the fact that it was a last minute placement. And of course, the adoption happened at the yearly peak of activity with Marcie’s company. Even though we didn’t sleep a whole lot between feedings, it was a relief to close down activity for the night.


boarding the plane

Marcie’s Mom drove up from Salem and stayed one night, and a friend from Portland took a day off work to drive up. We would have loved to introduce Wyatt to all our friends and family in the area, but there just wasn’t time. In the end, we were only in the hotel for three nights. Our friends at OA&FS and Adoption Minnesota worked hard to put the interstate compact through in record time. On the fifth day after learning of Wyatt’s existence we were taking him on a plane home.

Everyone in the airport had the same reaction. First, they gushed about how small and cute he was. Then they asked how old he was, and were horrified that we were taking a 5 day old baby on a plane. Then we told them about the adoption, and they were overcome with joy.

Some people tell us we’re being courageous for adopting, as if it were a kind of charity action. That’s a nice sentiment and we appreciate the goodwill behind it, but it’s really a misinterpretation. We are not rescuing this child. We had a need, the birthmother had needs, the child had needs, and we made an agreement that helps us all. If anyone acted with courage, it was Wyatt’s birthmother.

We’ll make sure Wyatt knows that as he grows up.


at home


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