Brad > Books: personal-mythology (43) ×

Odin: For Asgard!
Thor: For Midgard!
Loki: For Myself!

1. Magneto Fighting with the Heroes: I loved this just as much today as I did the first time I read the story. This was the moment Magneto, always my favourite "villain" became my favourite all around character. His "terrorist" activities, motivated by a desire to save his mutant brethren, were finally recognized as grey enough in motivation to be almost altruistic, and watching the "heroes" have to deal with that revelation was one of the best threads of the series. Much more could have been done with this, but Jim Shooter's decision to do this at all was a Marvel Universe changer.

2. Captain America at His Best: There's this scene where Dr. Doom, now beyond powerful, is kicking the heroes need to take off and save themselves. Captain America gives the order for retreat, then he goes back into their crumbling base and releases all the super-villains from their captivity. He's joined by a surprised and impressed Woverine. That is the Captain America I know in love. The same Captain America who would eventually fight Iron Man in the Civil War and die on the courthouse steps. It's easy to see that Jim Shooter loved Cap as much as I did.

3. Reed & Doom: I never cared much for the Fantastic Four and their nemesis before Secret Wars, but Doom was the perfect egomaniacal choice to challenge the Beyonder's power, and Reed Richard's steady brainiac self was an excellent compliment to Captain America's leadership.

4. Galactus: C'mon?! The guy eats worlds. And he had a great moment or two with Reed. What a pleasure to see Galactus dwarfed in power too, and without Silver Surfer around to piss him off. Excellent.

5. The Birth of Venom: If you're a Marvel fan, or even just a Spidey fan, you know what this means. 'Nuff said.

"Do you know what that is?"

"Of course, Mr. Kolp. it's our nuclear missile."

Kolp went up to it and stroked its shaft. "It's operational. Did you know that?" He gestured to her, and she approached timidly. He kept stroking the shaft of the missile as he reached out and took her hand. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Come closer, Alma," he whispered. She did so. "Touch it," he commanded. She extended her other hand and pressed her fingertips against the cold metal surface, then her whole palm. She began stroking the weapon in time with Kolp. The smooth steel felt so clean and strong.

"If the impossible should happen, Alma," Kolp said. "If we're defeated by the apes, I will not surrender to animals. He squeezed her hand and held it tighter. "Neither will my soldiers. If retreat seems necessary, I shall send you a coded radio signal. Fifteen minutes after you receive it, you will range this missile on Ape City and activate it."

Alma breathed throatily, "Yes, Mr. Kolp, I will. I can do it from the main control console. What will the signal be?"

Kolp looked at her carefully. "Alpha and Omega," he said slowly.

Alma repeated, "Alpha and Omega."

He nodded. "You're a good girl, Alma."

She looked at him adoringly.

And at last he noticed her. "And a pretty one too."

They were still stroking the missile. Their hands moved together across its steel skin. neither seemed to notice it any more, though. Kolp leaved forward, closer and closer, and kissed her. She kissed him back. Deeply. She stepped closer and slid her arms around his wide frame. "Alpha and Omega," she breathed. "I will be your tool."

Then and only then did Kolp take his slowly moving hand off his weapon. He pulled Alma close against him and kissed her again. And again.

1. The Opening Sequence -- From the Busby Be

1. The Opening Sequence -- From the Busby Berkeley Club Obi Wan dance sequence to Lao Che's menacing, "Goodbye, Dr. Jones," it is the finest set piece in all of Indiana Jones films. It gives us Indy at his best as an early James Bond. We see that he's a grave robbing cad. He steals Lao Che's girl and kills one of his boys. He loses Wu Han. Beats the poison trap. Escapes a rain of bullets. Joins Short Round for a race through Shanghai and winds up jumping from the frying pan into the fire. It kicks ass.

2. Genuine character development -- Huyck and Katz actually give us some Indiana Jones character development. All he cares about at the beginning is "fortune and glory," and we see him grow into the character who might actually care about the "International Treaty for the Protection of Antiquities" in Raiders of the Lost Ark. He comes to care about more than himself and Shorty, and there is even a hint that he cares about Willy Scott.

3. Willy Scott and Short Round -- If anything was missing in Raiders of the Lost Ark it was a true damsel in distress and an energetic kiddie sidekick. Indy got them in Temple of Doom, and they are perfect. Willy's hot and more concerned about her nails, voice, and diamonds than anything else, and Shorty just wants to be Indy. Maybe they don't work for you, but they sure work for me. I always had a crush on Willy, the one with whom I think Indiana Jones had the most interesting relationship, and I wanted to be Short Round kicking ass and saving Indy. Hell, I still do on both counts. And as screenplays go, this one is a cracker, even if it didn't always turn out that way on the screen.

4. Chilled Monkey Brains -- Nuff said.

5. Villains -- C'mon. You know you love Mola Ram in spite of yourself, and Lao Che is right up there with Belloq as best villain in the series.

6. You say ... -- The mine cars are silly, you say? I say they are rollicking good fun. The fight in the jewel quarry is dumb, you say? I say it's a necessity of the homage, and the voodoo doll makes it fun. The chamber of insects is unoriginal and lame, you say? I say it is the perfect way to generate some screwball comedy between the leads. The pumping heart being torn out of a chest is too gruesome, you say? I say it's creepy cool. The portrayal of Indians is racist, you say? I say ... okay, you're right about that, but no more or less so than the racism in the other movies (except, perhaps, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Hmmm. Interesting.)

The explanations advanced for soccer's intense mysterious power, the trancelike quality of great matches, its worldwide domination over all other sports, have been many, some finding in it a vivid reenactment of the prehistoric ritual hunt, others echoes of the matriarchal dream, initiation rites, pastoral dreams of a lost golden age. There is, akin to these, the game's inherent theatricality -- not the razzamatazz of an American halftime, but the inner dramas of sin and redemption, the testing of virtue, the pursuit of pattern and cohesion, the collision of paradoxical forces: soccer has often been compared to Greek tragedy, or seen as a kind of open-ended morality play. Perhaps the difficulty in scoring (and thus the usual narrowness of margins of victory, even between teams of markedly unequal ability, the everpresent danger of a sudden reversal of fortune) intensifies this sense of theatre, causing the denouement -- or the collective catharsis -- to be withheld almost always until the final whistle. Nor, until that whistle, is there relief from the tyranny of time's ceaseless flow: once you've fallen into a game, there is no getting out. The player must stay with that flow, maintain rhythm, press for advantage, preserving all his skills, his mind locked into the shifting patterns, and the spectator, though less arduously, shares this experience.