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"Beautiful things don't demand our attention."

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is a movie that has flown under the radar thus far in its release, and probably will continue to do so. That’s a real shame, because in this madcap season of Oscar contenders and “emotional” movies, Ben Stiller’s latest really belongs at the top.

Walter Mitty is something special, and there are many reasons for that – but it may not seem like much of anything at first glance. After all, it’s just the story of a guy who’s worked at LIFE Magazine for sixteen years in the “negative processing” department. On the eve of LIFE’s last print issue, Walter receives a set of negatives from one of the best freelance photographers around, with explicit instructions that Negative #25 is destined for the cover. Trouble is, Negative #25 isn’t in the package, and if Walter doesn’t find it, he’ll lose his job.  This setup would have us believe that the film is going to be yet another story of the Everyman rising to the top, discovering hidden potential, getting the girl, and all that. But if we did believe that…we’d be wrong. And therein lies the real beauty of this story.

Walter Mitty himself is the shining heart of this whole endeavor. He is, in many ways, the “Everyman” we expect, at least on the surface. Mild-mannered, quiet, not quick with a comeback. He’s simply ordinary, at least on the outside. But on the inside…on the inside, Walter is a man who may have grown up, but never left his childhood imagination behind. He tends to do what those close to him call “zoning out” more often than most people consider to be socially acceptable. As viewers, we’re taken along for the ride on Walter’s “zone-outs”, and are thereby shown the value of them.

On the inside, Walter imagines himself the hero – saving a puppy from a burning building, making that snappy comeback to his nasty new boss, getting the girl. In reality, though, he’s doing things like missing his train to work and chatting with Patton Oswalt’s endearing eHarmony rep.  What’s so crucial (and unique) about these scenes is the manner in which they are presented. These are not flights of fancy, played for laughs. They don’t distance us from Walter. Instead, they teach us about his strength, make us identify with and understand him. Walter is no caricature. He’s never larger than life, and never reduced to less than what he really is. He’s painfully true. That simple fact earns this film more respect and love in my book than any in recent memory.

See, we live in an age when it is “cool” to see quirky characters. It’s supposed to be funny and neat when someone like Walter makes a lame comeback or struggles socially or something, because we’re being conditioned to believe that going through situations like that in everyday life just means we’d make a cool character in a YA book someday. Problem is, for most of us who are like Walter, that’s just not true. Perhaps the greatest value of Walter Mitty is in its ability to recognize that fact and honor it. The struggles Walter goes through, those daily moments that just don’t turn out the way they would in movies, are real, and the film never pretends otherwise. Nor does it make Walter into an escapist loser who only ever accomplishes something in his own mind.

The film honors and values the reality of its main character, and all of us like him, through and through. Many movies with characters like Walter surreptitiously teach us to value those characters only inasmuch as they have an ability to change. We’re taught that the Everyman/Everywoman only has true value, and is only really a hero(ine), once they have completed the Hero’s Journey. Having conquered their formerly meek selves and become for all intents and purposes someone else – only then do they really matter. We’re taught that we must change, must be completely extraordinary, and that being as such means leaving ourselves behind. The beauty of Walter Mitty lies in its ability to remind us of the strength and intrinsic value we all have to begin with. We’re reminded that sometimes, the most ordinary people are in and of themselves extraordinary.

The journey Walter takes is one you should discover for yourself. Seeing it summed up here would truly only lessen its impact. Suffice it to say, the story of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty is one that will take your inner cynical old man with a shotgun (you know, the one who grouses at kids about his lawn?) and turn him into a sentimental teenager filled with hope again. That alone is worth the eight bucks.

Comics Review: John Carpenter's Asylum (Issues 1 and 2)

If nothing else, the Asylum series is one that has some real potential in its pages. Published by Storm King Comics and produced by the legendary horror director John Carpenter, the book tells the story of a world overrun by evil – and the lonely few who are fighting it.

If that rings a little too familiar to you right off the bat…well, you’re not wrong. Much of what appears in the first few issues of the story seems pulled from a checklist of standard supernatural horror tropes: there’s the rise of a deadly evil on the horizon, a rogue police officer, a quirky seer, a wise older mentor, a disgraced main character with a tragic backstory – and they all have to team up to save the world from the apocalypse.

That’s not to say that none of these elements work. Tropes are tropes for a reason – and with a little inventive twist, they can give birth to the makings of a good story. That “good story” pokes its head up in fits and starts throughout these first two issues, and gives some hope for future installments.

As things get rolling, the basic narrative is pretty simple: Beckett (the priest) and Duran (the cop) cross paths as Duran follows the trail of a potential murderer and Beckett battles a case of demonic possession. It turns out they’re after the same person, just for different reasons. Duran is a man of facts and logic (coupled with a fiery temper), and Beckett’s mysterious attitude and spiritual bent means the two men clash immediately. It’s not long before Duran views Beckett as a suspect in the ongoing investigation of a serial killer dubbed “The Angel Killer”. There’s interesting potential in the developing relationship between Beckett and Duran, and the repercussions of their developing dynamic on those around them, to be sure – but this central character relationship never really finds its footing consistently in these first two issues.

Where Asylum falters most, though, is in its choice to not flesh out the world in which it takes place. The setting is ostensibly a Los Angeles of the near future, plagued by waves of demonic activity and crime. From page one, we know that the villain of the piece is the devil himself. But throughout the first two issues, we as readers are given little, if any, particular insight into what sort of wider world the main characters are living in, and what sort of mythology is playing out around them. Hints are few and far between – but when they do come, they’re enticing.

It’s clear that Beckett, Duran, and the rest are living in a world that is different from our own. But the questions of just exactly how and why are left almost entirely untouched, set aside in favor of a chase narrative that, while decently engaging, feels as though its floating in the ether, ungrounded in the world where it ostensibly takes place. That, more than anything, weakens the impact of the overall story.  

Still, the story is intriguing, and there’s potential for development in all the areas of the book that seem slightly lacking so far. Perhaps the strongest point is the artwork by Leonardo Manco, which has a very particular aesthetic and actually does a better job giving the reader a feel for the world of the story than the narrative itself at times. There are some truly impressive splash pages, and the demonic designs in particular put an eye-catching spin on the standard portrayal that you might expect.

Unfortunately, even this strength is undercut by the fact that the story’s female characters are drawn as voluptuous sex objects rather than actual people, appearing scantily clad or nude for no discernible reason. Yes, this is a horror comic book – but there’s a line between reasonable and gratuitous, and for my money this book crosses it needlessly more than once. Not only is this tendency frustrating, it’s also distracting from a narrative perspective. Needless violence, brutalization, and gratuitous nudity do not a good story make.

For a book with the great John Carpenter’s name on it, Asylum falls short in its first two issues. There’s enough potential in the pages to hold interest, but also some serious challenges to overcome in order to make this a truly unique and strong horror comic.   

Today, I went to the movies.

It’s no secret that the last few days have been incredibly rough for so many people. First the George Zimmerman trial verdict sparked rage and unrest all over the country, and less than 24 hours later, friends and fans of Glee’s Cory Monteith woke to the tragic news of his passing. Although I’m far less directly affected by these events than many people, they’ve certainly been on my mind. So today, I went to see a movie.

I saw Pacific Rim, and it was fantastic. Two hours of robots, monsters…and great writing with real heart. Now, if I were you, sitting and reading this, I might be a little upset by that last sentence. “Wait,” I would say. “This guy yanked me in with talk about serious stuff, and now he’s gonna hit me with a sneak movie review. Not cool.” And yet, not so! Because here’s the thing, friends. The movie theater is a sanctuary to me, no matter what film I’ve gone there to watch. I’ve written about it before, here and elsewhere, and I’ll probably write about it again…because god knows this isn’t the last time we’ll all feel the way we do now.

Anger is hard to deal with. Grief is even more difficult. But the brilliant thing is, that’s part of the reason we watch movies. Or TV shows, or read books…to escape. And there’s no shame or harm in that. Tolkien wrote that “Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory...If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it is our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!”

On days like today, that’s what the movie theater is for. It’s a way to escape. To sit, even just for a few hours, and let go of everything that’s weighing us down. In the process, if we’re lucky, we find something that helps us walk out into the sunlight believing that we have a chance. That the world can get better.

I realize that sounds about as corn-fed as you can get, but here’s the thing. When did real good ever come from anyone who decided that “just OK” was enough? For me, movies aren’t just an escape. They’re also an inspiration. As a creator, a writer, I walk out of a film like Pacific Rim inspired to write – and to write better, more true, stories. As a plain old person, I leave movies like that with a feeling something like hope for myself and the people around me.  I flat-out yearn for theater experiences like that. They’re the fuel that keeps me going and the respite I need from rough days.

Now, I’ve never really been part of the Glee fandom myself. But I am part of other fandoms. I follow people on Twitter and Tumblr who are as invested in Glee as I am in (for example) Supernatural. And today, I remember the name Kim Manners.

See, back in the years before Supernatural was a big show, and before I discovered the community of online fans that I know now, Kim Manners was a consistent director on the show. I remember seeing the name at the bottom of  the screen during episodes, and I remember that when he passed away, for a while, it felt like a part of the show had died too. Even offscreen, his presence always mattered. And now, after 8 years of investment in the show, I cannot imagine how difficult it would be to lose someone else who is a part of it. My heart really does go out to the fans of Glee and of Cory himself, as well as his family and friends.

For people like myself, TV and film aren’t just images on a screen. We live in an age when the internet lets us get close to others. It tells us just about anything we want to know (and some stuff we really don’t) about not only our favorite characters, but the actors who play them. One consequence of this saturation is that, as we’re learning today, it hurts much more to lose any one of them. But to quote a much greater writer than myself (John Green), “The truth is it hurts because it’s real. It hurts because it mattered.” And in the end, that’s a realization to treasure.

We talk about being proud to be nerds and geeks, that there’s no shame in loving the people and things that we love. That applies to times like today maybe more than any others. These are the times when we can all come together and support one another in all sorts of ways, and there’s a strange sort of joy in that. No one wishes for tragedy – but when we have to face it, we are pushed to be at our best. And so, when I was sitting in the theater today, nothing about the movie I watched resonated with me quite as much as a few simple sentences uttered before the climactic battle:

“Today there’s not a man or woman in here that shall stand alone. We have chosen to believe not only in ourselves, but in each other!”

So when the hard times hit you, remember. Remember that the theater, the internet, the TV screen, aren’t just places to escape to alone. They’re also the places we can come together, and that, more than anything, is what matters.

As always, thanks for reading, friends. 

Comic Book Review: Tabatha #1

Tabatha #1 is the first in a four-issue limited series produced by Neil Gibson’s T-Publications. It tells the story of a mailman named Luke and his friends, all of whom just happen to be aspiring thieves. Luke uses the information he gathers from his mail route to help plan the break-ins, but as it turns out, he and his friends find much more than they expected or wanted to during their first night of breaking and entering. This is far from the first story to feature “ordinary people getting more than they bargained for”, and unfortunately it doesn’t have much to offer in the way of an original take on the concept. Worse, the few original elements do more to damage than help the book. Tabatha’s first issue winds up as a disappointing beginning to a still potentially-interesting series.

The foundational trouble with Tabatha is that it feels like a paint-by-numbers book from the start. Following from the familiarity of the basic logline, the plot progression and story beats all feel expected and slightly stale, even on a first reading. It’s not because the developments and story arc are faulty in and of themselves. Rather, the problem resides in the hollow nature of the specifics of this story. Plot takes precedence over character, and that makes the flow of the story feel forced and predictable.

We need to get to know Luke, our main character – and so we spend the first several pages of the book being put through the paces of his day. He’s bullied by his colleagues, most of the people on his route are strange and troublemakers, and the girl he’s crushing on thinks he’s weird. Despite the fact that it’s pretty standard stuff, it still could have worked. Except the jokes aren’t funny, the pacing is off, and Luke just isn’t that interesting of a character. I looked for a way to invest myself in him as a reader, and I just didn’t find it.

This is also the part of the story where we’re given heavy-handed, explicit foreshadowing by way of the fact that this job is a “means to an end” for Luke. Obviously, we’re supposed to ask “what end?” but the script just doesn’t bother to rely even a little bit on the intelligence of the audience. Instead, we’re steadily hit with the repetition of the same foreshadowing that first shows up on page two.

I was hoping things would even out as the story went along, but that wasn’t the case. When we meet Luke’s friends/roommates (who happen to be dating each other), we get the expected story beats – the “bickering like a married couple” exchange, the good-natured third wheel main character, etc. But there’s no real substance to any of these three major characters, and that makes the rest of this first issue’s developments (which I’ll avoid spoiling for those who might want to read the book) far less engaging and interesting than they should be.

Now, all these things I’m talking about are forgivable, if not ideal, for a first-issue comic book. Introducing fresh, engaging characters and plugging them into an interesting plot is not an easy business, and I know that firsthand. But I re-read Tabatha a few times in preparation for this review, and each time I did, I found it more and more problematic.

The story is just average – erring on the side of too much secrecy and not enough setup for whatever will come with the three remaining issues. Like I said, forgivable. What’s less forgivable is the supposedly sympathetic character of Fin (Luke’s best friend and roommate, as well as the character whose POV we share at the end of this first issue and apparently will continue to in further issues) and the blatantly sexist elements of his character. These are overtones which, on repeated readings, appear elsewhere in the book and betray the fact that the attitudes portrayed are not deliberately chosen and addressed character traits, but rather systematic issues with the book as a whole.

What it comes down to is that Tabatha, intentionally or not, has serious problems with objectifying both female and male characters. I’m not here to make character judgments of the creative team behind this book. I’m simply reviewing what I see on the page, and what I see is problematic to me as a reader and a storyteller.

All of the women characters in this book are drawn in tight pants, short shorts, and spaghetti straps, and are frustratingly only defined by their relationships to men. The nameless female crush of Luke (who returns essentially as a plot device late in the issue) is only important because Luke has decided that she is “his future wife”. She has minimal dialogue, and we never even learn her name. Fin’s girlfriend is written as stereotypical and short-tempered, drawn as skimpily dressed and exceptionally thin, and relegated to backseat status for most of the story. Fin and Luke aren’t exempt from the disappointingly stereotypical character machine – Luke is clearly the nerdy, innocent guy, and Fin is so bulked up that he could give Superman a run for his body type.

The challenges presented by these characters as written are the major roadblock to embracing the potential of the overall storyline. We get an intriguing look at the villain of the piece towards the end of the book, and enough of the questions left on the last page are enticing enough that I’m at least mildly curious about what comes next. I just hope new story developments feature alongside some improvements to the characters and tone of the book as well – otherwise there’s no way I would shell out to see what happens next. 

Man of Steel, Or: How the Tin Man Saved the World and Broke My Heart

I saw Man of Steel at its midnight premiere a few days ago. I’m one of those people who was so excited to see the film that I just couldn’t wait, so after a full day of work I downed yet another coffee, threw on my Supes t-shirt, and stayed up until 3AM to see the Blue Boy Scout hit the screen for the first time since 2006. And since I left the theater, I’ve been sitting on this review. Turning the film over and over in my head, struggling to let it settle. It hasn’t. Now, that may sound melodramatic, but I’m not making any apologies. Because Man of Steel is, through and through, one of the most incredible, brilliant, frustrating – and in the end, deeply disappointing – films I have ever seen. 

[Fair Warning: SPOILERS ABOUND BELOW. I usually try to avoid spoilers in my reviews, but I just can’t do this one without discussing very specific, crucial elements of the story, so consider this your heads-up]. 

O.K. So, I think we all sort of know the basic drill with this new Superman movie by now. It’s meant to be an exploration of the hero in the context of our world today, which is not only exciting but also admirable. Christopher Nolan, David S. Goyer, and Zack Snyder set out to make a very real superhero movie, and I applaud that. The writers and filmmakers ask all the right questions. The problem arises when they are unable to provide the answers to go with them. 

If a superhero appeared in our world today, how would people react? What sort of toll does it take on a person (even a Kryptonian one) to exist in a world where you are different from everyone else? On an even more basic level, the real issue at the heart of Man of Steel comes in two parts. The first is an assertion: you can choose the sort of person that you become. The second is the question that naturally accompanies that: if you can choose, then how do you choose – and what happens when you do?

So let’s start at the beginning. The first third of the movie is where it shines the most, surprisingly enough. We spend a great deal of time on the doomed planet Krypton, something I wasn't expecting but in the end thought was absolutely fantastic. We get a real dose of science fiction here, a world without the boundaries of our own. Krypton is on the cusp of collapse, but it’s not there yet. There are spaceships, machines, and landscapes that will take your breath away. 

But the heart of this first part of the Superman mythos rests with the emerging conflict between the scientist Jor-El (a superbly engrossing turn by Russell Crowe) and the military man General Zod (Michael Shannon). We see the two sides of the world that Kal-El’s Superman is born from, and learn that he is the first natural birth Krypton has seen in hundreds of years, setting him up as a unique figure even on his own planet. We’re given some truly awesome action set pieces, especially as Zod seeks to solve the problem of Krypton’s potential destruction in his own, military, way. There’s a real strength and depth of character to this opening portion of Man of Steel.

Russell Crowe as Jor-El.

One slightly unconventional but well-utilized element of the film is its narrative structure, particularly as it relates to the origin story of Clark Kent. The basic story of a hero like Superman is so entrenched in the public consciousness that it seems almost tedious to sit through yet another telling of his “farmboy in Kansas” upbringing. Screenwriter David Goyer, however, chooses to fold that origin story over on itself, essentially condensing it narratively without removing any crucial elements. Following the destruction of Krypton, we spend the expected amount of time in the fields of Kansas, but through flashbacks had by a 20-something Clark as he wanders the world, seeking the best way to use his powers without revealing his true nature. For my money, this is one of the best choices the film makes from a structural perspective – and it continues to express and develop the central question and challenge of a life like Clark’s. 

Another narrative choice that makes this re-framed question abundantly clear in the course of Clark's origin story is the alteration of the death of Pa Kent (Kevin Costner). Rather than a heart attack, Clark’s father is felled by a tornado as Clark watches – helpless, because even with all his powers, he cannot bring himself to disobey the command of his father to stay put and not reveal his powers to the nearby crowd. This change is a bold choice, to be sure, and one that not everyone will agree with. Personally, I found the change itself not only interesting, but also logical as it dovetailed with the main challenge of the first half of the film, and sought to reinforce the true nature of that issue. But the writing and execution of the scene itself seemed shoddy, even a bit lazy. Here was the first point in the film that I felt underwhelmed. I wanted to care more than the movie allowed me to – and that would be a continuous problem throughout the remainder of the story.

Amy Adams as Lois Lane.

It’s not long after this that we’re introduced to Steel’s iteration of Lois Lane (Amy Adams). She makes a great first impression, and shines as a very solid, decently-drawn female character – until the film just tries to damn hard to make her constantly relevant. She goes from an interesting, dogged reporter to a ham-handed plot device in the course of about 20 minutes, and the end result is an exceptionally frustrating overuse of the character, as if the filmmakers were trying to deliberately force the audience to admit that, hey, these people are using a strong female character! Good for them! In doing so, they cut themselves off at the knees and turn Lois into little more than an incidental character who somehow manages to rocket around the world fast enough to be present for every major plot development.

Michael Shannon as the legendary General Zod.

The arrival of General Zod on earth is a welcome return of the character, and sets the third act of the film into motion…and this is where the bottom falls out. During the battles between Superman, Zod, and Faora, Man of Steel reveals its fatal flaw. To wax allegorical for a moment, it’s as if the movie is a talented football player, returning a punt kick for a touchdown. He’s outrun the other team, using his talent and his smarts to get into the open field. At which point he gets lazy, maybe even starts celebrating a little before he crosses the goal line. And then he trips, or drops the ball from his uplifted, celebratory hand. And everybody’s stomachs drop. That’s how I felt watching the last third of Man of Steel, and as much as it hurts me to say it, the reason was Superman himself. 

Zack Snyder, director and fan of extremely chiseled leading men.

Don't get me wrong. The battles between Superman and the Kryptonians are undeniably spectacular. If there’s one thing Zack Snyder knows how to do as a director, it’s orchestrate an impressive action scene. The problem is, that appetite for destruction and showmanship clashes with a central tenet of the movie he’s trying to make. In the latter part of the film, Superman is being forced to choose between rebirthing the Kryptonian race or saving humanity. He chooses humanity, as we know he must. But then, behold! He proceeds to battle Zod in an all-out superhero brawl that decimates first a small Kansas town (whose only sizeable building is apparently a Sears, in one of the more annoyingly egregious examples of product placement in the history of ever); and then the streets of Metropolis itself. The problem? This battle destroys entire city blocks. Buildings crumble and collapse into the streets. In short, any thinking person knows, people die. Realistically, thousands of them. And Superman doesn’t give it a second thought. Not once do we see him try to steer Zod out of the city, or even stop throwing punches long enough to rush people to safety. This lack of care or concern for the people Superman has chosen to call his own is paradoxical, distracting, and at best a huge oversight on the part of the filmmakers. At worst, it is an unspoken effort to change the core of this character, and what happens next made me worry that that is exactly what’s going on. 

In the end, Zod and Superman smash and bash their way into Grand Central Station, which somehow found its way from the New York City of The Avengers to Metropolis. There, Superman gets Zod in a headlock, but Zod turns the situation into a bizarre Mexican standoff by training his heat vision on a helpless family. And what happens next made me curl into my seat, feeling like someone had just gut-punched me. Superman, the embodiment of truth and justice, the hero I’ve loved since I was a kid…snapped Zod’s neck.

Henry Cavill as a Superman for the 21st Century.

Now look. I’m not a child anymore. I understand what it means to “reinvent” a character for the big screen – especially with an eye towards making him relevant in our world today. Nolan, Snyder, and company took risks with this film. I admire that. But that admiration vanished when Zod’s body hit the ground. See, there’s a real difference between “updating” a character and changing them entirely. Here, the filmmakers do the latter. 

Superman’s dedication to the good – to the protection of life, and restraining his immense powers rather than using them to harm others, is at the heart of what makes the character. It’s what makes some people dismiss him entirely – the “Big Blue Boy Scout” moniker isn’t particularly complimentary. But regardless, it’s what makes Superman truly super. It’s what sets him apart from villains like Zod and Faora. And here, that difference gets thrown out the window without a second thought. That, more than anything, is what ruined Man of Steel for me. 

David S. Goyer, screenwriter.

I could have stood for Superman killing Zod. In the universe created for the film, there’s not really another valid choice. No Phantom Zone to send him to, no anything. But what seals the deal is this: Superman’s remorse for this murder amounts to nothing more than a manly howl of anger, mitigated by the sudden (and once again, inexplicable) presence of Lois. We are given no understanding of the code that Superman has always, in every iteration on page or screen, lived by. 

So, in the end, Man of Steel may be a good, even great, movie. It may even gain the status of one of the best superhero movies of the year. Fine. That doesn’t make it a good Superman movie. So much is done right, so much of the setup is perfect. And then it goes so very, very wrong. To me, Kal-El fails to live up to the lessons taught to him by either of his fathers. This Kryptonian hero, for all his powers and might, is hollow. The most important part of Kal-El, the part that makes him Superman, is his human heart.  The real tragedy here is that the filmmakers seem to have forgotten that completely, leaving us with a stunning but ultimately empty spectacle. 

Resurrection, Man.

Hey guys,

If you were a regular follower of this blog in the past, odds are you probably aren't anymore...and I don't blame you. I wouldn't follow a blog that hasn't updated in almost a year either. See, this last year sort of got away from me. I guess since it was the last year of my undergrad career, you might be able to imagine why.

On top of all the college-related elements in the equation, I'm proud to say that over the last six months, many of the things that I might ordinarily post on this blog have been appearing over on Whatculture.com, a pop culture site that I'm now a contributing writer for. You can find a list of my articles on topics ranging from Doctor Who to Deadpool and beyond here.

But, in the immortal words of Bob Dylan, "The times they are a changin'." There is a light at the end of the empty blog tunnel - and it's the florescent glow of a laptop screen. Basically, I'm back. Back in black, back with a vengeance, etc, etc. As you might have noticed, the Wayward Wordslinger domain has gotten a facelift, and this new look is just the beginning.

From now on, you can expect updates once a week, covering everything from television to movies to books and beyond. There'll be reviews, musings, and everything in between. I'll be kicking things off with a pretty in-depth review of Man of Steel, which will go live tomorrow. Over the next few days, I'll also be tweaking the layout, gadgets, and features of the page, so come on back to check it all out!

As always, thanks for reading!

Public Service Announcement: New Reading Materials

Hail, dear readers!

 This is just a quick PSA to anyone who might be looking for some new regular reading material on the interwebs. If this is you, you're in luck! 

(Barney Stinson approves.)

My good friend (and often-time co-author) a guy named Jack Holder, has just launched his own blog over at  http://radicalcitizenship.blogspot.com/. He'll be publishing his own thoughts, as well as bits of his works in progress (which, if history is to be believed, will only be good after I have edited/completely rewritten them for him). 

Just kidding.

Mostly.

Jack's a great guy and an even better writer. It's well worth your time to check out what he's up to over there at (once more, with feeling!) http://radicalcitizenship.blogspot.com/

Don't miss out! 

In unrelated news, I've learned how to insert GIFs into my posts. I'm a little behind the times. 

"Group Hug": Slayage and Community

Last week, I attended the 5th Biennial Slayage Conference on the Whedonverses. The conference is exactly what the title would have you believe - plus so much more. It is a gathering of academics and fans, coming together to celebrate, discuss, and analyze the works of writer/director Joss Whedon. It is also a community that I feel blessed and thrilled to have become a part of.

This year's conference was held at the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, BC, which only added to my desire to attend after a paper proposal I submitted was accepted back in February. I had recently received my first real publication credit as a contributor to Joss Whedon: The Complete Companion, and the fact that my opportunity to attend Slayage grew out of something that amazing to begin with still boggles my mind a little (OK, a lot).

Like any first-time attendee of a conference, I didn't really know what to expect. Not only was this my first ever academic conference - I had also flown literally coast-to-coast for it, I didn't know a single person there, and I was at turns terrified and overwhelmed by pretty much everything around me. Not to mention how nervous I was about having to present a paper in front of who knew how many people. The litany in my head went something like this: You're going to miss a flight and be stuck in Toronto Your presentation is going to go badly You won't be dressed well enough Your paper isn't very good and everyone is going to know it but maybe they'll be too nice to say so Oh and whatever you do, don't keep any apples in your bag when you go through customs because apparently bringing apples to Vancouver is illegal. 

True story, folks.

Then the first day of the conference came around, people actually started showing up, and everything I was worried about just kind of...stopped mattering. I was early for registration, and I sat there expecting to see lots of academics with expensive suits and at least a monocle or two in the mix. What I got instead was a crowd of friendly people wearing jeans and t-shirts that celebrated Firefly, Serenity, Buffy, and Doctor Horrible, among others. Everyone was so happy to be there, and it didn't matter if you were at your fifth Slayage or your first - the one thing made abundantly clear by and for all was that you were welcome here.

Over the next four days, a few of my friends from home texted me to see how things were going. I jokingly texted back to them "These are my people, I belong among them." But after thinking about it a bit, I realized just how true that silly phrase turned out to be.

See, I've always been a geek in one way or another. Granted, 21 years isn't all that long to be anything, but still. As terribly hipster as it sounds, I was a film and comic book geek before it was 'cool'. I was in high school when people almost always laughed at geeks and nerds, not with them like they (sometimes) do now thanks to shows like The Big Bang Theory. I'm the kid who read books on the playground and dreamed about wearing a cape like Superman when I grew up (I don't know who I'm kidding - I still do that). Movies like Back To The Future (the greatest movie of all time as far as I'm concerned), Christopher Reeve's Superman, and Star Wars thrill me to the core even when most of the people I know don't really understand why. I have never been embarrassed to call myself a geek or a comics nerd - but man, sometimes it can feel lonely, at least to this small-town kid from rural Maine.

I guess that's why I (and people like me) look to characters like The Doctor from Doctor Who, or Superman, or The Avengers, or any of a hundred thousand others like them out there in the fictional world. They're alone, more often than not, and they choose to rise above and thrive both in spite of and because of this. They're all the inspiration we think we need.

But I'll do you one better. Because if there's one thing this summer has been teaching me, it is that we don't need to look just to fictional characters to find inspiration. We have each other. I only started realizing this earlier this summer, and Slayage was really the defining moment in helping me form an understanding about how true it really is. Over the last few months, I've met new friends and gotten back in touch with old ones, and I found out that they're a lot like me. I'm not the only one who is just as happy spending his day inside watching a movie, reading or scrolling the internet than going outside and do something involving crowds of other people and sunlight.And there's nothing wrong with that. It doesn't mean I'm antisocial and strange. It just means I enjoy different things than other people.

Slayage took things a step further. There I found not only people who love the same shows and things that I do, but who love them enough to take them seriously as creative efforts and truly believe that shows like Buffy, Angel, Firefly, Sherlock, and Supernatural  have things to teach us, that they are more than just shiny things to look at for an hour one night a week (or for hours at a time on DVD). Plus we had puppets. Puppets are cool.

At Slayage, I felt like I really belonged entirely, for the first time in a very long time. It wasn't just me and my few friends, lurking in a corner and talking about things that made people who overheard us ask "Are you speaking English?" (Also a true story.)

Most people who know me know that I'm an introvert, and it's often really difficult for me to get up the nerve to get involved in conversations with other people. At Slayage, you couldn't shut me up. I was treated as being among equals (despite my lack of any sort of academic degree), and I never once felt that I was looked down upon or that people were just putting up with me until I went away. I made friends at Slayage, ones I hope to keep for a long time to come. I saw other people express what I already felt for myself - that these movies and shows I grew up on and continue to watch are more than just teenage escapism. They matter, almost as much as the people who watch them matter to each other.


What Slayage did was give me a chance to experience the dynamic I have with my friends at home happening on a much larger scale with a wider range of people, letting the same things bring us all together. For someone like me, belonging is one of the most important feelings in the world, and Slayage gave me that. So to everyone from the conference who might be reading this, thank you. Sincerely. You probably didn't know it at the time, but everything you all did made a huge difference to me - a difference I didn't realize was possible. You all helped me feel a sense of confidence in myself that I wasn't even sure was there. So thank you. 

To anyone reading this who hasn't had the chance to experience what I did in Vancouver: go out and find your own version of Slayage. Maybe it's a Magic or Dungeons and Dragons game on Thursday night with some friends. Maybe it's a Doctor Who marathon. Maybe its as simple as going to a crowded theater to watch a movie. Maybe it is one of a hundred other possibilities. All I'm saying is, don't be afraid to find out which one is yours.

 Never be ashamed to be where you belong. Embrace it. 

Nolan "Rises"

Fear not, citizens of Gotham. This review is simple, straightforward, and SPOILER-FREE. 


So. The Dark Knight Rises. One of the most anticipated movies of not only the summer, but of the year. I had the chance to see a midnight screening, as part of a 3-movie Batman marathon featuring both Begins and  Dark Knight, capped off with Rises. This absolutely influenced my feelings on the film, especially since so many elements from Begins arose again in Rises. Seeing Nolan's ducks lined up in a row helps discern the heart of the story he's telling, and how he's been planning to finish telling it since the beginning.


There's an awful lot going on in The Dark Knight Rises. Enough, even, that it seems the story well could have played out successfully over 2 films - or should have been trimmed down a bit to fit comfortably in the confines of a single film. The story overflows with characters new and old, from Bane (Tom Hardy) to Catwoman (Anne Hathaway), as well as Batman staples like Commissioner Gordon (Gary Oldman) and Alfred Pennyworth (Sir Michael Caine). None of them feel shoehorned in just for the sake of having them there, nor do any of them get the shaft in terms of screentime. Much like Marvel's The Avengers, Rises does a great job of balancing a large and complex cast along with its story. 

This movie is not perfect. What it is, though, is the culmination of a clear vision on the part of director and writer Christopher Nolan. It may not be what we either expect to see or want to see, but it is unquestionably Nolan's story. This is Nolan's Batman. He's telling his version of the story the way he wants to tell it, and he's doing it well. I have an immense amount of respect for that kind of creative vision and storytelling integrity.


Nolan uses his story to grab hold of you and never lets go, something that's not easy to do in a nearly 3-hour movie. Both the scale and stakes of the movie are bigger this time around, and Nolan handles the necessary shift in storytelling perspective extremely well. I'm looking forward to seeing this film again, hopefully in IMAX, as I'm told the visuals that Nolan puts onscreen are even more spectacular in that format. Here's hoping we get more films of this caliber on our screens soon.