Eric Staggs: Writer

I was reluctant to watch the film, I’ll admit.  I wanted to simply let that one slide by. But, on a rainy night, with naught on my schedule but a potential hang-over, I called up the girl and we went to the late show. We go there early and fortunately, shared the theater with only a pair of high-school delinquents (I know they were delinquents, because, when I was a delinquent, I went to late night movies on school nights too).

The feature was in 3D, closer and closer to real-life. Scratch that, it was better than real-life. It was high resolution too.

The story, I’ve avoided since I learned of Lewis Carroll’s reportedly inappropriate infatuation with a girl for whom he wrote the tale. Once again, real life lacks the luster of fantasy, no? Anyhow, I can’t give an accurate comparison of the screenplay to the book. I can however, comment on the film’s native attributes. Those being plot, pacing, production design and acting.

For perhaps the first time in my life, I’m keeping my comments to a minimum, however. The film was good. I’ve forgotten all about the word-play that pestered the novel, plagued the dialogue and made mimsy gribblesnitch of our so delicate english language. I, for one, like people who make up words. It shows a certain integrity of character – their determination to be understood, despite the limitations of their native tongue, which ever one that may be.

I’d forgotten all about the Mighty Jabberwocky and the Vorpal sword, both of which caused a rush of memories. I remembered Dungeons and Dragons treasure hordes, each time the player sorted through the pile of gold and gems and prizes, they secretly hoped to find the awe inspiring and rueful Vorpal Sword. I thought instantly about the old 1977 film entitled Jabberwocky. I thought about my lascivious 9th Grade english instructor, a Mr. Narry*, who seemed to delight in making the cheerleaders in class stumble through paragraph after paragraph of nonsensical words (he also delighted in having them interpret the lustful passages in Romeo and Juliet – thus earning his moniker, Naughty Narry and in retrospect, considering Lewis Carroll’s predilections, perhaps it’s best that Naughty Narry took us on our virgin exploration of the Jabberwocky).

All the while, the 3D screen was bludgeoning me with scenes of wonder and absurdity, voice talent that was so accurate and tightly cast, and a ruinous host of characters ghostly-familiar and yet disturbingly alien.  Alice in Wonderland was another of Tim Burton’s triumphs of the imagination. Alas, this voyage is one to undertaken on the big screen. No matter how large your television (and come on, lads, I know you buy some big ones), nothing can compare to the high-resolution, 3D experience that is Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland. Not even real-life.

*names are always changed to protect the guilty, innocent and misguided

When watching a re-make of any film, one cannot help but compare it to the original. While the original Clash of the Titans was a masterpiece of stop-frame animation and a cult-classic, it was also melodramatic, butchered three myths, combining the tales of Bellerophon and Perseus into a single jumble of mythical Greek goodness.

The film’s refit was only slightly improved when it came to clarity of myth, though that all fell quickly to the wayside when the cameras panned for the first time across beautiful Argos (though, admittedly, my least favorite of Greek cities).

One thing filmmakers need to understand is for this genre of film, expectations have become so high, that had Argos been anything less than epic and astounding and beautiful, it would have been sub-par.

The story itself was easy, solid, typical. Humans, with their hubris have offended the Gods. While I found it odd that Mighty Zeus the Thunderer would wear full plate armor, circa 1200 AD Europe (or from the set of Excalibur – which, by the by, would make a fine remake as well), Liam Neeson was an acceptable choice for the role.

The “pretty face” that played Perseus did a fine job, mostly because it was an action movie requiring little acting. The film’s true mistake, however, was the twenty minute battle with the scorpions, in place of the two-minute confrontation with the Kraken. Technically speaking, the film had no falling action from the plot climax. There was about sixty-seconds of “Good Job, here’s your prize,” and then credits.

Of course, I loved the film, being a fan of the Greek myth cycle and anything that dares attempt to render it for the modern audience. One thing I can’t shake, however – The Kraken is straight out of Norse/Finnish mythology and never was a Titan. I can accept that a creature of a magnitude would be considered a Titan (sort of) but Medusa, was a Gorgon. I suppose Clash of Norse Kraken and Gorgon just didn’t roll off the tongue like “Titans.”

The one thing I always hate about cinema is when films build upon one another’s cosmology. Legion, a sub-par piece in every sense of the word, starts off with bloody scene where the archangel Michael severs his own wings. He then stitches up the gaping wounds himself, as he is now mortal.

Being something of a mythology researcher, I’ve found no mention in Christian Biblical Lore about angels becoming mortal when they cut off their wings. In fact, this is an invention of the writer/director Kevin Smith. So, right off the bat, the basis for the film Legion is something Kevin Smith coughed up between bong hits.

The rest of the plot is a mish-mash stolen from films like The Prophecy, revolving about the classic “Hold-Out-And-Run” template. Aliens, 30 Days of Night, Dawn of the Dead (remake), The Mist and about a thousand other films of the genre share the same “story” arc; the characters are presented with an impossible challenge, one steels their wills to survive and they fortify until they realize they must move to stay alive. This decision invariably costs the characters that which they sought so hard to preserve – each other.

An ensemble piece, the cast of characters were there merely to add to the body count. Their deaths however, were nothing less than ignoble, usually getting chewed up by some file-toothed “angel” who has inhabited a human body.

The details of the plot are inconsequential – God wants to kill humans, but the Archangel Michael disagrees. Gabriel flies down after an hour of forced character development and begins to kick ass.

As a writer, you are obligated not to assault your audience’s sense of plausibility. Many will argue the “suspension of disbelief” is elastic and should be stretched – if I can accept that angels are real, I should be able to accept that angels would swoop down and enact God’s will.

However, this film left so many loop holes, even the most devout may begin to question their faith. The only new elements added to the archangels arsenal were bladed, bullet proof wings (stolen, if I remember correctly, from a Marvel Comics character named Archangel) and of course, a mace straight from the MI6 labs – a bludgeoning weapon that whirred and twisted and changes shape, extended and transformed, though likely too heave for even the new James Bond to heft, he was no doubt drooling over the versatility of this ridiculous weapon.

To spoil an already predictable plot, the good guys win and Michael gets his wings back, having taught the omniscient and omnipotent God a lesson in mercy. Gabriel flies off, beaten and the main characters, a trailer-park hussy/new mother and a bumpkin named Jeep (whose only heroic act was to machine-gun a child possessed by an angel) drive off into the post apocalypse desert to rebuild humanity, enacting a sloppy Joseph and Mary/Post Flood analog.

Overall, a  forgettable film.

In this film, perhaps for the first time in the history of vampire-cinema, the immortal la vida loca is painted in a realistic light. We step into a dimly lit world where vampirism, spread like a sexual disease or perhaps a viral plague has consumed and transformed most of the world.

The plot centers around a vampire who doesn’t like being a vampire (what, eternal youth, power and indestructibility not as much fun as you thought they’d be?), who by chance encounters the dwindling human resistance.  Proving himself a  friend to sheeple everywhere, the bipedal cattle bring this hematologist in on their plan to cure the vampiric infection.

The film is filled with those clever little gimmicks, like “daylight” driving windows, tinted 100% opaque, and a warren of underground tunnels that allows the leeches to travel during daylight hours. Willem Dafoe plays a blue-collar vampire who accidentally cured himself, and with the help of Ethan Hawke, intends to help cure all of humanity. Meanwhile, the blood supply is out, and the vampires are tearing off their neckties and degenerating into the nosferatu-esque and savage true vampiric form. Gross.

Half-developed characters stumble through subplots, while the audience is treated to constant barrage of surreal gore, squishing noises and vampires that are so starved, they turn on one another.

The films true weakness comes in the form of the cure – a shake and bake solution requiring neither hematologist nor faith nor garlic/silver oxide solution to achieve. Not impressed.

True vampire fans will enjoy this classic tale of moderate redemption wrapped in Big Business Dystopia, but those demanding substance will find the film without much of a bite.

One of the things I love about contemporary cinema is the filmmaker’s collective understanding of our extremely short attention spans. Sherlock Holmes is a film that indulges that attention deficiency in the extreme.

While I, and perhaps other members of the audience were expecting something more akin to a mystery, I found myself delighting in the pacing. The lightning quick scene-to-scene action slowly but surely redefined Holmes and the indefatigable Watson. There were moments in the film where I felt they were more like Dr. Hunter S. Thompson and His Attorney, than the legendary sleuth.

The dismissal of layered mystery and sub-plot worked for this action adventure film. Sherlock, it seems, has been re-invented.

Reader’s will notice I always gloss over the acting. Well, I’m not changing my pattern. Downey Jr. was excellent, as well as Jude Law, both tried and true performers. I expected no less. In fact, considering their past roles, this might have been a screw-off project for them. Supporting cast was adequate. (Sidenote: I’ve heard rumors that Brad Pitt is cast as Moriarty – dashing my own aspirations – while Pitt has performed some excellent roles, it is my belief that he needs heavy interaction with the director – how else could you explain his “blah” portrayal of Achilles, perhaps the most archetypical character in the history of man?)

A mystery/thriller necessarily must play upon the audiences limited perspective, elsewise we would figure out the mystery well ahead of the main character. Thus, during the big reveal, we see Holmes’ perception of details the audience simply wasn’t shown. That’s cheating.

All said, I loved the film, it will definitely go into my Blu-Ray collection, right next to Iron Man.

I found myself repeating “what a beautiful film” to everyone who asked me what I thought. And it was. It was stunning. We’ve been spoiled by special effects in the last ten years. We’ve seen superheroes come to life, mighty starships free themselves of the confining wires and cameras on dollies, make effects have been completely replaced by 100% digital effects.

Some hardcore film folk will suggest this is the down fall of cinema, the day the actor and director no longer interface is that day we’re all watching cartoons written my mad children.

And I would tend to agree. Jar-Jar Binks is my primary evidence.

But Avatar, all three hours of it, was something special. The plot itself was simple – to quote my uncle “a child could have written it,” and that’s okay. Most of the best stories are those that we all understand on a primal level. This film was nothing more complicated than Dances With Wolves in space. Which is okay too, since Alien was Jaws in Space and Attack of the Clones was just Star Wars in space (that last one was a joke).

The plot, essentially runs like this – Marine agent goes native. Saves people. Aside from the spectacular setting, there was nothing new or interesting about the story itself. Ancient as the plot may have been, it resonates with audiences because of some very simple and all too human elements: loss.

A sub-textual critique of the plight of Native American peoples can easily be read into Cameron’s somewhat heavy-handed action flick, but the secondary plot thread is entirely unnecessary.

I was disappointed to see that Cameron’s treat of space marines has changed little since the days of Aliens – the jarheads are mostly without conscience and still even talk the same. “Get some!” seems to be a common phrase in all centuries of Jim Cameron’s military vision. While I find his view of our own warrior caste somewhat two dimensional, I must applaud is continued use of powered armor.

Plausibility was kept at an all time high for a sci-fi action flick, and lord in heaven, this was a beautiful film. Simply gorgeous to look at.

I won’t comment on the acting. Sigourney Weaver is a professional who simply cannot deliver a poor performance. Our hero did most of his work in voice over mode, as well as the love interest. Michele Rodriguez (of Resident Evil fame) is sassy and sharp, but her character was a combination of Vasquez and Ferro from Aliens (can Jim never leave LV-426 behind?)

Dan Abnett strikes again with another thrilling installment of the Gaunt’s Ghosts saga. After their marginal victory at Hinzerhaus, the Tanith First and Only  are given some much needed downtime. Two years of it.

This story picks up with a Commissar-Colonel Gaunt wondering just how soft he’s gotten. One is reminded of the opening scenes of Apocalypse Now, where Martin Sheen stares out of his window wondering he’ll get orders to leave Saigon.

Gaunt’s Ghosts are no different than any other combat veteran, an entire regiment of soldiery so tuned up and keyed to self=preservation through violence, it’s no wonder that the Ghost’s run astray.

The novel opens with a gruesome scene wherein the infiltration of the Sabbat Crusade’s HQ world is cleverly explained. I won’t give too much more detail for fear of spoiling a fun read.

I did note, however, that it was page 67 before I felt the old interest, that Abnett page-turning, pulse-pounding sci-fi pulp action returning. Aside from the Blood Pact infiltration, I honestly can’t remember what happened in those first 67 pages.

As a long time Gaunt’s Ghosts fan, I think my patience for their antics is higher than would be for a new reader. I also found myself reflecting on the characters, it feels as if most of the original Ghosts are gone now. The replacement characters have yet to become fully endeared to me and I wonder, how will this regiment end up?

Gaunt’s capture and torture in the last book were cleanly glossed over, and any residual trauma he may have had has yet to make itself known…

As a writer, you hate to bash another writer’s work. You always want to try to find something positive to say about it. In college, when doing peer readings, hyper-critical as I am, I found myself not saying much. One of my favorite professors said “You’ve a great integrity about you when comment…”

I think she meant that I didn’t just spout off for a grade like the other students. The truth was, I seldom had anything good to say.

Tim Waggoner’s Thieves of Blood: Blade of the Flame read’s like an introductory page from a Dungeons and Dragon’s Gaming book. The exposition nearly bowls a person over, and the character archetypes offer nothing new to readers.

That said, if this book is classed as young adult fiction, or used as the marketing piece it was obviously intended to be, it’s a total success. Those not familiar with the Eberron campaign setting will find the book enlightening. Another refreshing aspect of Waggoner’s approach is his general lack of an “origins” story. He simply starts in with two pre-existing characters and allows their histories, though somewhat two-dimensional they may be, to unfold naturally for the reader.

Another thing the writer’s done here, which I appreciate greatly, is create a literary adventure, a time filler for young adults, that needs neither electricity or software.

B+

First off, I applaud your efforts. Games Workshop and their affiliates have embraced technology from day one. I remember playing Chaos Gate more than ten, maybe fifteen years ago, and loving it. I still find myself muttering “The heat of one thousand suns shall purify your soul!” when rolling dice for Rogue Trader and Dark Heresy.

Of course, I don’t need to point out that Chaos Gate never actually worked. There was a patch you could download so that your Dreadnaughts and Predators could move (an essential aspect for mechanized heavy weapons).  That patch, however, never worked. I once built a PC from the ground up with the express purpose of playing Chaos Gate – still no luck. Sure, I could play, but it just never worked quite right. I’ve still got a copy of the game – I keep it in my archives hoping some day, someone will hand me a disk with the patch that actually worked on it. Then, of course, gold will fall from the sky.

Since then, Games Workshop had put forth some serious effort in the video game realm, and each time, you seem to be met with absolute failure.  I won’t pretend to know what goes into making a video game. Somehow I suspect it’s a little more than a selection of weapons and armor and bosses to hack apart at the end.

But I’ve got to ask why…

Why, for your first person shooter (Firewarrior) did you choose the Tau? Why not an Imperial Guardsman or Space Marine? The Tau? Seriously? These pruned up little Taoist, yet classist aliens with little or no involvement in the Imperium of Man whatsoever? Well, being a good monkey, I bought it the day it was released, haranguing my roommate when we lived in downtown Chicago until she drove me to my favorite GameStop. The game was fun. I felt foolish putting thirty lasrifle rounds into a guardsman, but I was just happy to be laying in the Warhammer 40,000 setting.

Then, there was Dawn of War – well done. I still play this game on occasion. I have no criticism for this game. However, that leaves me a little shocked, and worried for this next game – Space Marine. Is a third-person action slug-fest where you want to go with the Imperium’s finest warriors? And armed with a Power-hammer no less?  Personally, I’ve never wanted to play a bulldozer in any video game I’ve owned. I know, it’s too late now. I just had to get this off my chest. Good luck. I’ll buy the damned thing. Just… try not to let me down too badly.

I think like any savvy computer user, I’m hesitant to install anything on my computer that comes from Micro$oft. I began my career as we a web designer cursing and swearing at the cheap employers who insisted we use Frontpage because it was “already installed.”

That attitude is/was such a violation of logic and free enterprise and healthy competition and everything else the internet promised or stood for, it was enough to drive designers and developers mad. Not to mention the browser wars and the vicious disinformation campaigns against non-Micro$oft products.

When I worked in advertising, one of our main clients used a bubble-gum and prayer NT system for their multi-million dollar e-commerce rig. They measured up time (on their test environment) in hours. Our duplicate test environment measured up time in months – the only difference being that ours was a Unix server.

But enough about this wretched history of Micro$oft. I’m talking about their wretched future. This new Blogging app, Writer,  hasn’t crashed yet. But upon clicking that fateful download button, my VIAO lurched into a wild seizure of downloads and installs, updates and god knows what else. When the dust settled, I was being asked to set up a Windows Live profile – something I didn’t want to do, didn’t set out to do.

But credit where do, Writer is still so far, a pretty nifty little app. It’s not much different than any other bloggers apps, except that you get the added comfort of knowing it’s a quality Micro$oft product riding wild through your trusty computer’s electrons.

post-script -

Write in Writer, send it up to my website, my LiveJournal and to a few other selected blog outlets as well. Is this a good thing? Probably not, but we all love convenience.