A. Lee Martinez's Blog, page 62

Magneto Wins

This is about X-Men: First Class.  If you haven't seen the film  yet, there are some spoilers here.  SPOILER ALERT!  SPOILER ALERT!  SPOILER ALERT!  SPOILER ALERT!  SPOILER ALERT!

There.  You can't say I didn't warn you.

Oh, what the heck.  Just to be safe.

SPOILER ALERT!  SPOILER ALERT!  SPOILER ALERT!  SPOILER ALERT!

That should do it.

So I started writing a blog post about X-Men: First Class.  It was a digression into racial politics and the problems that we're still wrestling with as a society.  It pointed out that all the non-Caucasian characters "go bad" in the end, and our theoretical "good guys" are all white males.  With the exception of the Beast, who is, technically underneath that fur, a white kid too.  Oh, yeah, and the black guy dies first.

But there's a point where it's just wearying.  Yeah, I think there's quite a bit of unintentional racial baggage that shows up in First Class.  On the one hand, it's not strange that they'd kill off Darwin, as he's an obscure character and nobody really cares much for him.  But it's also kind of strange to pick Darwin, considering his power is expressly the ability NOT to die.  It's not that I couldn't believe he could be killed.  But it should take a hell of a lot more than what it does in the movie.

But let's put all that aside.  And let's put all that other stuff aside too.  Because it's all something worth talking about, but it's not stuff I want to talk about now.

Instead, I'd like to talk about the very heart of First Class.  And that heart is this:

Magneto is right.

Shaw is a madman.  Xavier is naive.  But Magneto is neither.

And he's right.

It's weird to realize this because I'm not sure if that's the intent of the film or not.  But it certainly seems like it.  Humans, as a whole, are presented as intolerant, obnoxious, and dangerous.  They're also completely justified in their fears.  When four mutants are able to literally kill every human in their path without any difficulty, you realize just how powerless the humans are against these foes.

X-Men are often used to explore the concept of fantastic racism.  And usually, it's handled deftly and with interesting nuance.  But First Class destroys that nuance by presenting characters which are so dangerous that humans would be stupid not to fear them.  The problem with this racism metaphor is that we're not talking about superficial differences like skin color and eye color.  We're talking about very real differences in just what they are capable of.

Magneto is right.  If mutants banded together and worked as one, in very short order, the world would be theirs.

Okay, so let's ignore that for a moment.  Even if it's possible for mutants to be good, productive members of society, the movie makes it clear that humans are not interested in that.  It's always been a problem for the X-Men stories (in whatever form they're presented) to make the humans both the enemy and sympathetic.  More often than not, the humans come across as small-minded and bigoted.  There are a handful of human characters in the X-men universe that are open-minded and friendly, who have a live and let live attitude.  It's ironic in a story about acceptance that the humans are often portrayed as a uniform, intolerant hive mind.

First Class has the problem.  There are only two sympathetic, fleshed out human characters.  One is killed and promptly forgotten.  Another has her memory erased because even idealistic Charles Xavier knows you can't trust humans.  Yes, even Prof X knows this:

Magneto is right.

I can only assume the film does this intentionally.  It can't be an accident.  Perhaps because the film was written by humans, for humans, it's assumed we'll automatically side with the human race.  But I find myself rooting for the other side.  And if Prof X stands with the human race, I think Magneto would've been better off just killing him.

The film has managed to convince me that in the struggle of mutantkind, the X-Men are the bad guys.  And I guess that's impressive if that's its goal.  Although I'm not sure it is.  Marvel makes a lot of money of the X-Men.  It'd be strange to believe they want you to dislike them.

All I know is that the world would be a much different place if every repressed minority and subgroup had the power to shoot laser beams out of their eyes and spit acid.  And maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

So congratulations, First Class.  You've turned me away from tolerance.  You've convinced me, in at least this case, that Charles Xavier's dreams of peace are the products of a delusional mind.  Maybe that's just the way it goes now.  I'm used to disliking the good guys in this modern dark age of comics.  But I guess I'll have to just get used to cheering for the "bad guys".

Magneto is right.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

The Continuity Trap

It's well established at this point that I don't write sequels.  It was something I just sort of stumbled into.  It wasn't a conscious long-term choice.  When I was merely an aspiring writer (as if there's anything "mere" about being an aspiring writer) I decided to write every story as its own separate universe with separate characters and completely unrelated to each other.  The logic was simple.  I wanted to have as much material as possible to put out there, and while having five or six books in a series completed would've been good if a publisher wanted the series, if a publisher didn't, I'd be out-of-luck.  I was just trying to avoid putting all my eggs in one basket.

Naturally, when I did finally get published, it was assumed by many that I would immediately begin a series.  I even considered an expanding universe, turning Rockwood of Gil's All Fright Diner into my own little playground with recurring characters and continuity.  But then my publisher kept buying other books, so I lost interest quickly.

And now, eight books published and my ninth manuscript just about done, I don't see any reason to go back to what I started.  I could write a sequel to something, and I'm sure it would sell well.  If anything, by playing hard to get, I might have increased demand for it.  And, for the record, I'm not a big fan of sequels or series novels, but many are done well and have achieved a justifiable hardcore fan following.

The idea of a continuing universe or the further adventures of Character X works just fine for many.  But as an artist (if I might indulge my ego for a bit), the pitfalls are many.

Tron Legacy was the sequel fans have been waiting decades for.  And it wasn't very good.  But perhaps it would be wrong to place the blame on those who made Legacy.  Maybe it's just one of those stories that is perfect the way it is and no sequel could work.  Allow me to be charitable to the filmmakers for just a moment and suggest that the Tron setting really isn't good for many stories.  The original is a neat film with cool ideas, but it doesn't lend itself to much outside that.  The world of Tron wasn't designed with sequels and series in mind.  Hence, the difficulty in creating any sort of continuing story about it.  This would explain why Legacy mostly meanders its way through a muddled plot, stealing bits and pieces from other fantasy films, in hopes that they can be cobbled together into something worthwhile.

Let's call it The Highlander Dilemma.  What do you do with a story that was never intended to be expanded?  You can add a weird alien background, a strange futuristic setting, and contrive reasons to bring back characters, but you're still basically trying to push a boulder uphill.

Actually, Tron Legacy and Highlander 2 seem to be poster children for this particular problem.  Or Men-in-Black 2.  Or Hangover 2.  Or Pirates of the Caribbean 2-who knows how many they'll make. Heck, even the Star Wars prequels fall victim to this.  They aren't necessary, don't add anything new to the story, and exist mostly because popularity and financial success demand it.

That's the dilemma.  Because whether or not I enjoyed any of those films listed above, they were all commercial successes.  And people enjoyed them.  I might think Legacy and Hangover 2 are dreadful, but my opinion is just one and hardly one that matters.  Box office is what counts, and it should.  A big, mainstream movie costs a lot of money to make, and who would bother if they didn't think they'd get some return on their investment?

Another storytelling medium that continually suffers from this are comic book.  Specifically comic book superheroes.  I used to love comic books.  But superheroes are always struggling between the need to tell ongoing stories and a contrary need to keep things exactly the same.  No change in comic books is permanent.  All characters will return to their original form.  Given enough time, Barbara Gordon will get out of her wheelchair and walk again.  Hal Jordan will somehow return from the grave and become Green Lantern again.  Spider-Man will have his marriage magically undone, and everything will be exactly the way it started.

That doesn't bother me.  Not exactly.  Although it is why any sort of ongoing continuity is always going to screw storytellers in the end.  Because if you don't change the characters / worlds, the audience can get bored.  But if you do change the characters / worlds, the audience gets hostile.  You really are damned if you do, damned if you don't.  Given a long enough timeline, every continuity becomes a yoke around the storyteller's neck.

Comic book superheroes have struggled with this dilemma for at least 30 years.  Ever since comic book fans started reading compulsively and cross-referencing every bit of dialogue and display of power.  Comic books are going through a hard time now, and I don't think it's solely because they've taken stories about flying people in long underwear and turned them into violent, blood-soaked fantasies.  (Though that doesn't help.)  It's because there's really nothing new being done in comics.  It's the same characters, fighting the same villains, in the same way over and over and over again.  While it's easy to be critical, it's also true that there's just no clear way out of the continuity trap.  Other than perhaps creating new characters and supporting them long enough that they might become a new generation of heroes and villains without decades of baggage already attached to them.  But that's not going to happen.  Mostly because a new character would probably have to be supported for at least a decade before making headway against the much better established ones.

ASIDE: This is why I read and recommend Atomic Robo by Red 5 Comics.  He's a new character in his own universe.  He doesn't come with fifty years of backstory.  He isn't going to get shanghaied into some silly epic crossover.  And while the comic does have continuity (and even uses it deftly and effectively), it's also a great read without any of that.  Atomic Robo is the comic book that makes me want to be a better writer and is just plain awesome.  Pick up any of the collected graphic novels.  You won't be disappointed. BACK ON TOPIC

If my livelihood depended on sequels, I'd write them.  I admit it.  But as a novelologist, I'm lucky enough to have choices.  I'd most probably be doing better at this stage if I was on book eight of an ongoing series, though I can't say that for sure.  I don't rule anything out, but I'm earning a living writing standalone books.  And I love the freedom it gives me in terms of storytelling.  And I like being able to offer an alternative in a world full of sequels.

I'm damn lucky to do what I do, and maybe I've just been slipping below the radar up to this point.  Maybe one day, the publishing police will bust down my door and smack me around until I relent.  But until that day, as long as people keep paying me for writing what I enjoy writing best, I won't complain.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Learning Experience

Back from Soonercon.  It was a fun, lively convention this year, and I had a good time.  Touched base with some acquaintances and met a few new people.  Sat on a few panels.  Gave a reading.  Just walked around, being charming.  The usual con mode.

But while at Soonercon, I learned a few things about myself and since I'm out of other blog topics for the moment, I thought I'd share those observations.

I have no tolerance for anyone who complains about Idris Elba as Heimdall.

Really.  Don't even bring it up.  Because not only is it nice to have strong roles for minority actors, it's also just nice to see Elba.  Period.  The guy's a solid actor, able to convey a thought and emotion in a single look or sentence so perfectly, he'd be justified in taking a bow afterward.  He's just plain cool and even covered in a costume that conceals nearly everything about him, he manages to make Heimdall the most awesome thing in the film.

Yes, even more awesome than The Destroyer, a magic robot with destructo-vision created by Odin himself.

More importantly, complaints about Elba are usually prefaced with the following disclaimer, "I'm not a racist, but…"  Has anyone ever said that and NOT followed it with a bit of racism?

"I'm not a racist, but would you mind telling me how to get to Fifth Street?"

No.  Inevitably, the following line will have some racist under or overtones.  And, sure, it's possible that some fans are just so completely obsessive over every little detail that having a dark-skinned Heimdall hits their nerd rage button, but if they don't walk out of that theater thinking Elba made Heimdall, a small part in a big movie, into one of the highlights of the film, then they're wrestling with more than fan inflexibility.

I'm not here to call anyone racist.  Except for those crazy folks who are actually threatened by Elba filling the role.  Because, clearly, in a movie that is 98 percent Caucasians, being threatened by one black man (and one Asian) in a supporting role isn't about anything other than race.  And if you're one of those people, you should probably realize just how stupid you're being.  Although, I'm certain you won't.

All I'm suggesting is that Elba took a role and made it his, and he did so with style, grace, and terrific talent.  If you still can't get past the color of his skin, what's left to consider other than some simmering racial tension that we should acknowledge honestly?  Or not.

Either way, if anyone has any complaints about Elba as Heimdall, they should be that he didn't have a big enough part in a good, but otherwise unremarkable, flick.

I have no tolerance for Tron: Legacy.

Yes, it's come up before.  Yes, I despise Legacy.  But the depths at the disgust with the film is so deep, so imbedded in the very molecules of my DNA, that if anyone brings it up, I must will myself to say nothing or I will end up saying EVERYTHING.  As long as I keep my mouth shut, I'm cool.  But the second I offer one criticism, another spills out.  And another.  And soon, I'm launching into an uncontrollable rant about the film that even I cannot control.

It's not right, but it's unavoidable.

I firmly believe Legacy is one of the worst films I've ever seen and that if it wasn't shielded by shiny neon, a poppin' Daft Punk soundtrack, and misappropriated nostalgia, that most everyone else would see that too.  But who cares what I think?  I'm not here to ruin anyone's day, and people should be able to discuss Legacy without fear of a unleashing a slavering beast.

Nonetheless, it seems unavoidable, and so, I have learned to turn and walk away.  So if you happen to see me and mention Legacy, don't be offended if I run screaming into the darkness.  I'm doing it for your own protection.

One parting thought:  Tron Legacy was awful.  Just in case I haven't made that clear yet.

I will play tabletop games until I pass out:

During a gap in my schedule, I went to the gaming area and found some people to play games with.  We played Race for the Galaxy, 7 Wonders, and Olympus.  We played the former two several times, in fact.  Meanwhile, Sally got something to eat, hung out with a friend of ours, and otherwise engaged herself.  Every so often, she'd come and check on me.

A little over six hours later, I was still playing.  And still would've played if I hadn't decided to check on the wife.  It was only then that I realized I hadn't had anything to eat or drink since starting.  Which isn't that long under normal circumstances.  Except at a con, it's easy to neglect yourself.  So I hadn't had much to eat and drink before that.  Only after walking away from the table, did I realize just how hungry and thirsty I was.  If I hadn't been packing up my games, I doubt I would've even noticed the headache and the gnawing pain in my gut.  I'm not saying I would've played until I died, but collapsing from malnutrition wasn't completely out of the question.

Not to make light of genuine addiction (drug-related or otherwise), but I think I could literally sit and play games as long as the universe would let me.  As disorders go, it ain't so bad, but it's something I should probably keep an eye on.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Monsters, Women, and Other Strange Creatures

Maybe it's because I'm just as likely to have a robot or weird monster from dimension X as a human playing the hero in my novels, but I tend not to relate to stories solely by the race or gender of their protagonists.  I've had a good mix of male and female, human and inhuman characters in my books.  And if you judge a book's target audience by its hero, then I guess you could assume I'm really courting the monster demographic.

It's interesting to see how the same story played out with a slightly different protagonist can get a different response.  If a story is about a guy who kicks ass and punches out Cthulhu, it's often considered macho fantasy.  If a female does the same thing, it's often packaged as empowering.  Indiana Jones is a cool dude.  Lara Croft is a positive female role model (by some standards anyway).

Part of the reason the latest Metroid game was so poorly received by diehard fans was because of the way it handled Samus, one of the first female video game action characters.  If Samus were a guy, I'm not sure there would be as big a backlash.  Because Samus is a woman who stands for something more than most male characters ever will.  That's just the way it is.  If there was a Legend of Zelda game that portrayed Link as indecisive and conflicted, no one would hold it against him the same way the mere perception of such triggered from Samus.

It's a problem.  Not because we view male and female, Caucasian and minority characters differently.  But because we have a hard time NOT seeing them differently.  A female or minority character automatically comes with more baggage, both good and bad.  And it's that baggage that shows an innate flaw in the way we view stories.

To deny this, is to deny the blatantly obvious.

If a movie stars a female character, it's a "chick flick".  If it breaks this rule, it has to declare so boldly and loudly.  Bridesmaids, an obviously raunchy comedy, had to be sure to say "Not just for women" in its advertising.  It's true that The Hangover wasn't marketed as "for women", but it certainly didn't feel the need to defend itself.  And Indiana Jones and Star Wars have extremely male-centric casts, yet never strain to say women will enjoy them.

A Nameless Witch (my 3rd book for those keeping track at home) was recognized for being strong feminist fiction.  It's an honor that I'm very pleased with, but I've also been a little uncomfortable with it.  Because the themes of Witch are those of love, family, and identity.  They're universal, not just something women struggle with.  The story could just as easily feature a male protagonist with a few tweaks.  Yet if it did, it would trigger an entirely different response.

You don't really hear the word empowering applied to stories with male or white heroes.  Possibly because these are the default protagonists in most stories, so they're already at the peak of cultural power.  But every time a woman or a minority steps into the hero's role, it's already a challenge to the status quo.  Especially if that hero doesn't fit gender or racial expectations.

The late Dwayne McDuffie observed that if he wrote a story where Batman beats Superman, people didn't tend to question it, despite the absurdity of a normal man (even Batman) being able to stand up to Superman.  But if he wrote a  story where Black Panther (a minority hero, just FYI) beat Silver Surfer, many people would scoff.  It would come across as blatant "affirmative action".  Whatever the hell that means in that context.

It's interesting to note that we instinctively have an easier time relating to fantastic characters who are completely different than us than ones that are only slightly different.  It's been tested many times and shown repeatedly that (whether we like it or not) most people can relate to the Hulk, a green giant, better than they could do a member of a different real world race.

Maybe that's why I write about monsters and robots, after all.  It's not because I'm challenging the status quo.  It's because monsters are easier to empathize with than humans who are slightly different.  The strangeness of this means that if I write about a raccoon god or a fuzzy green monster who wants to eat the universe, it'll have a better chance of appealing to more people than if I used a regular ol' human.

It's not that I'll avoid writing about people in the future.  Or that I'll choose my protagonists based on some formula of what is or isn't appealing.  I write the stories that appeal to me with the hope that they'll appeal to others.  It's worked so far.  So if my love of space squids and minotaurs has an unexpected benefit of allowing me to reach a wider audience, then I really can't take credit for it.  Monsters really are the everyman / everywoman.

Who knew?

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Chasing Zany

Did you ever notice that nuclear bombs are either destroying the planet or saving it?  I watched a movie called Crack in the World recently, and a bomb starts a chain reaction that causes a (SPOILER ALERT) crack in the world.  It's only by exploding a bigger bomb that they can stop it from tearing the planet to pieces.

So there you have it.  Bombs.  The cause of / and solution to all of life's problems.

Been a while, hasn't it?  I've been working on a lot of stuff.  Important stuff.  Stuff I get paid for.  So you'll excuse me if blogging about dinosaurs and robots has taken a backseat lately.  It's not that I don't care.  It's that I've got bills to pay.  Speaking of which, Chasing the Moon is out in some stores now.  It's a good book, and I'm sure you'll like it.  So go ahead and buy a copy.  I'll thank you in advance, and you can thank me later.

The reviews have been pretty favorable so far, though they're the typical "Another wacky Martinez book" I tend to get.  It's my albatross to bear.  Except instead of being a curse, it means people like what I write.  So what if I don't quite agree with the reason?  Still, I'll admit my ego still stings a bit when any book I've written gets classified as fluff, brain candy, etc.

I've written before about how frustrating I find it that it's assumed something must be boring / depressing to be sophisticated.  And that if something is fun and brings a smile to your face then it must be empty of anything worthwhile.  But that's not going to change anytime soon.

It's the same sort of assumption that says video games make you stupid.  Or that education and self-improvement is such a rigid, specific process that there's only one way to do it.  The boring way.

I learned to catch by juggling.  It certainly wasn't easy, but it was a fun rewarding experience.  I learned to write by playing with toys, reading comic books, and watching cartoons.  I play board and card games almost like a religion because they continue to expand and hone my mind in new and startling ways.  These things shape and influence me and make me better every day.

I'm not going to say that reading Chasing the Moon will lead to a personal epiphany on the nature of the universe.  But I do know that, on a personal level, Moon means a hell of a lot to me.  It's enjoyable enough as a strange story about weird beasts from beyond, but I'd like to think it has more to it than that.  I doubt it'll change the world, or even have any real impact on the way we humans look at the world.  But I'd like to believe that at least one person might read it and say, "Hey, that's kind of a neat way of looking at things."

It might be an absurd ambition for a story featuring a giant green monster who wants to eat the universe and a purple hedgehog that can't stop reproducing, but where would we be if we were afraid to dream.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Q & A Time

Bob Bob had a few questions concerning my last post about Chasing the Moon.  I thought about answering them by replying to comment itself, but then figured it might be better to answer them in their own featured post.

Bob Bob asks:

What inspired a) a Lovecraftian story, b) about the nihilism and absurdities of life?  Also, is this book the answer to a question asked by another writer or fan?

To answer the first part, I'm not really sure where it came from.  I had the idea of a protagonist getting stuck with a cursed apartment and a monster that came with it, but other than that, not much else.  I think themes of nihilism and absurdity pop up quite frequently in my books.  I just tend not to focus on the depressing aspects of these themes, which for many will probably seem like a contradiction.  Once Chasing the Moon started exploring strange concepts like monsters from beyond time and space and the limits of human perception, it sort of drifted in a Lovecraftian direction.  It wasn't a calculated decision.  Just a natural progression.

I suppose if the book is a reply to anything, it would be to question why we assume that human beings will automatically crumble when faced with the incomprehensible.  Really, we face the incomprehensible every day.  We're constantly reminded of our own limitations and powerlessness, and while it's true we tend to ignore that, its influence is everywhere.  Almost everything we do and believe could be as attempts to cope with, deny, or accept our our own insignificance.  It's such a universal theme that I'm not sure you could write a story without it.

I could write a whole blog post about this idea, but we'll save that for later.

It seems as if you're suggesting Moon might not be a traditional, whatever that means, A. Lee Martinez novel.  How have pre-readers reacted — what's been said?

It's weird to consider that there is such a thing as a "traditional" A. Lee Martinez novel, but Moon will be my eighth novel.  I'm somewhat past the "Who is this guy?" phase of my career and more into the "I think I've heard of this guy" stage.  I don't know how I would consider the novel in comparison to my other novels.  It's similar in many respects.  The same guy wrote it who has the same style and certain philosophical views of the universe.  I don't think Moon is terribly radical from what I've written before.  But it is different in that I think it's more horrific than anything I've written before.  Gil's All Fright Diner had werewolves and vampires, but it was a fantasy adventure story.  But Moon is less about adventure and more about dealing with the strange stuff that comes our way.  It's more nebulous, less black and white.

Pre-readers have enjoyed it, but you can never really know how people are going to react.  That's why you throw it out there and see what happens.

On Twitter and this blog, you've been talking about changes in perception, how likes and dislikes change.  Is this a warning in advance about the style of Moon?

No.  It's not like I wrote this one with a more "literary" mindset.  The book is not intended to be a huge shift in what I've done before.  Stylistically, it's very similar.  It has a cast of weird characters, many of them not quite human, dealing with a strange situation.  Cliches are broken or tweaked in a manner that is often mistaken for satire or parody when really it's just trying to do something different.

Just as in my previous novels, I don't consider it a parody of the genre.  I think of it as a variation.  So the Lovecraftian themes aren't meant to be refuted or denied.  They're just explored from different angles.  That's my bread and butter as far as I'm concerned.  It's always been my biggest strength as a writer, the ability to try something different without having to tear down the entire concept.  At least, that's how I see myself as a writer.  It doesn't mean I'm right.  I could very well just be a silly fluff writer with delusions of grandeur.

Either way, I feel confident in saying if you liked my previous work, you'll most probably like Chasing the Moon.  I'm not just saying that because I want you to buy it (although I do really want you to buy it.  May 25th.  Store near you.  Check it out.), but because I have seven books out there and so far my publisher keeps paying me to write them.  So somebody has to be buying the damn things.

I'm fairly certain that if you bought my previous books for the comedy, you'll find plenty of humor to like in Moon.  And if you like them for the theoretical deeper themes and ideas I have to offer, then you'll definitely find those in there too.  And if you just want to read a weird book where a woman armed with a claw hammer fights a giant beetle and baking is revealed as an excellent way to ward of insanity, then you'll be glad you read it too.

Thanks for the questions, Bob Bob.  Hope this clears some things up.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

End of the World (and I feel fine-ish)

Chasing the Moon, my 8th novel, comes out this month, and in the interest of self-promotion, I suppose I should talk about it.

The first thing that keeps popping in my head is that I'd like to say this isn't a "funny" novel.  Except it is.  I'm sure everyone who likes it will tell me so.  And everyone who hates it will say how shallow and "unfunny" it is.  Or perhaps that it's too serious.  Or that the plot is either too convoluted OR too simple.  And, really, I've read enough reviews to know that people will love and hate it for a multitude of reasons.  That's just how it works.  You throw stuff out into the cosmos and see what happens.

But I don't know if I consider Chasing the Moon to be funny, myself.  Oh, sure, I've mentioned this once or twice (or perhaps three or four dozen times) before, but I have never considered myself a "comic fantasy" writer.  Or "zany".  Or "madcap".  Or any of a hundred synonyms for "comedy" you could dig out of a thesaurus.  But I've also mentioned I ultimately don't care if someone likes the book because it's funny.  I'm not picky about my career in that sense.  If I make a million dollars off a "funny" book, I could certainly live with it.  But if you were to ask me to describe most of my own books in my own words, "funny" would rarely make the top of the list.

But Chasing the Moon is a bit different.  At least from my own perspective.  Because it's a story about the incomprehensible, the unknowable, and the insignificance of being human.  I hate to use the word Lovecraftian because it gets thrown around way too often these days, but this is a story from that perspective.  It's about a universe you can't understand and circumstances beyond our own control.  It's about the unimportance of everything we do that we keep doing anyway in hopes that maybe something, anything, will mean something.

You would think that a story with such themes would be dark, depressing stuff.  That's not me though.  My goal with Moon is not to get you to throw yourself off a bridge.  It's to take those traditional aspects of cosmic horror and explore them from a different angle.  My ambition is not to take the teeth out of it, but to see if being part of a vast, indifferent universe has to automatically be a bummer.

Yep.  My goal here is to write a cheerful Lovecraft story.  Never let it be said that I am not an ambitious novelologist.

It's not that Moon doesn't have humor.  One of the characters is a green furball described as resembling a rejected Muppet whose primary motivation is the eat the entire universe, and the plot hinges on a monster god who chases the moon in hopes of eventually catching it and destroying the universe.  (These aren't spoilers, by the way.  They're right there on the inside of the book jacket.)

It's weird.  Intentionally so.  There's very little grounding in reality as we know it going on here.  And certainly Vom the Hungering is an unusual supporting protagonist, but does that make him "silly?"  To many, it will.  And if they get a good chuckle out of it, fine with me.

But I put a lot of thought into this book.  I didn't just bang this out over a weekend while thinking, "This'll be funny."  I think this story is more than just a series of strange, comedic encounters.  It is most definitely not intended as a satire or parody of cosmic horror.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  Consider it the counterargument to Everybody Must Die or Go Mad assumption that comes with the genre.  Moon isn't a send up.  It's not even an homage.  It's straight up cosmic horror.  Just not particularly gruesome or terrifying.  Although, given the theme of the novel and the answers it offers, it wouldn't be completely wrong to say it has a certain spookiness.  Though I'll probably be the only one who thinks so.

My hope is that if you don't like Lovecraftian horror then maybe you'll end up seeing what's interesting about it after reading Moon.  It probably won't turn you into a fan, but if it opens new horizons for you, even just a crack, then I'll consider that a victory.

If you're already a fan of horror, then maybe you'll find something worthwhile in Moon, too.  A change of pace that still appeals to the dark, brooding hopeless soul in all of us.  And if you should happen to find the book worthy of sitting on your shelf next to Lovecraft himself, I wouldn't complain.

And if you just want to read a story where a giant eyeball obliterates people with magic lightning, I've got you covered there too.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Optimus Crime

I consider myself a pretty positive guy.  I try to not dwell on the negative.  I try to be upbeat.  But try as I might, I can't convince myself that the new Transformers film will be worth seeing.  I should be willing to give it a shot.  I liked (didn't love) the first one.  But the second one, it seems to have torn away a bit of my soul.  I don't seem to know how to get it back.

Watching the latest trailer, it should appeal to me.  A fulll-fledged Decepticon attack with spaceships and everything.  Optimus Prime beating the tar out of bad guys.  Giant tentacles destroying buildings.  Shockwave!  Oh, by the light of the Mighty Robot King, how I do love Shockwave!

Yet I feel nothing but an emptiness here.  I'm not even mad anymore.  I just don't care.

The real annoyance here is that it has almost nothing to do with the previous films weaknesses in terms of story and characterization.  Yes, I'd love it if the films named after the Transformers actually had more of the Transformers in it, and less of sweaty humans running around in a panic.  But I understand that we don't live in a perfect world, and that Hollywood doesn't know how to sell giant robots.  Not really.  It relies on actors and name recognition and while if you could tell me, definitively, that Optimus Prime is the star of the film, it'd be a nice surprise, it still wouldn't sell me.

I just can't stand Bay's direction.  The way the camera shakes and never really focuses on the action, it just pisses me off.  I could forgive almost anything.  I could watch a two and a half hour film for twenty minutes of decent robot-on-robot action.  I can tolerate lots and lots of overblown caricatures and goofy humor if I get to watch Optimus Prime punch Megatron in the face for five minutes.

But damn it, I cannot tolerate Michael Bay's direction.  About the only thing I can't forgive is having to sit through an hour of people I couldn't give a crap about, only to get a blurry image of a robot possibly doing something to another robot that I can't possibly see.  Call it a pet peeve if you will, but a giant robot movie where I can't see the giant robots is like a martial arts flick where they drape a tablecloth over the camera and just foley in punch and kick sound effects.

Also, and I don't usually mention this, but the new female lead looks like she's made out of plastic.  Couldn't find her less attractive.  I wasn't a big Megan Fox fan either, but they somehow managed to find a woman I find even less attractive in this new one.  Taste is subjective, but she does nothing for me.  So in addition to not getting to see robots that I want to see, I'll be stuck looking at people who don't even give me a vicarious thrill.

Maybe it's paranoia speaking, but it's almost like this movie was designed to both draw me in and slap me down.  At this stage, I know exactly what I'm getting.  With two previous Transformers films by Bay, I've played this game before.  The promising trailer leads to a disappointing film leads to more heartbreak.

It's hard when you lose something you used to love.  I learned to write from Transformers.  I had boxes of the toys and played with them for hours and hours, telling my own stories.  And maybe I'd still be here, doing what I do, without the faithful companionship of the brave Autobots and sinister Decepticons.  But they're still a big part of who I am today.  And yet, I don't read the new Transformers comics.  I want to like them but they just seem so dull for stories about giant space robots.  And I just can't get interested in the new films.

It's no tragedy.  It's just life.  It's how it works.  We grow and change and maybe I've outgrown Transformers.  Then again, I do write stories about monsters and robots for a living.  So I can't be too far removed from the material, can I?  I'm actually pretty excited about Hugh Jackman's upcoming robot boxing film, Real Steel.  It might (okay, it probably will) disappoint, but at least I can be optimistic.

But Transformers?  I guess I'm just going to have to give them a pass.  Maybe in the distant future, when there's a new reboot of the Transformers (without Bay) I'll be ready to trust again.  Given the nature of Hollywood at this point, it probably will be around 2014 when they decide to reboot the whole thing.

But if I hear anyone say the word "gritty" or "dark" . . .

Hang in there, Optimus.  If Megatron couldn't beat you, then maybe you can weather Hollywood's abuse.  I'm rooting for you, big guy.

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

Police Academy Vs. Fast and Furious, A Case of Character

I've only seen one of the Fast and Furious movies.  It was Tokyo Drift, and it wasn't bad.  It's a movie about racing cars.  So they race cars.  And while I can't say a whole heck about the plot beyond that, I can say that if a car racing movie has cars racing, I really can't complain.  It's like watching a kung fu movie for the story.  Why would you do that?

Not that car racing / kung fu movies can't have plots.  Kung Fu Panda has a great story AND great kung fu.  So it's not impossible, but it's not a deal breaker if the story's a bit uninspired.

Not being a fan of the Fast and Furious films, I really don't know quite what to make of them.  I get that they're car chase / stunt movies, and that the formula is simple.  Good looking people driving around in cool cars.  But I am frankly amazed that there are now five of these films, and that there is no reason to believe more won't be coming.  It's like Police Academy.  A fine film, but you wouldn't expect it to have spawned as many sequels as it did.  It's inexplicable, but you can't argue with reality. 

But really, the Police Academy films make more sense to me than Fast and Furious.  Because the Police Academy films have personality.

It's easy to bash Police Academy.  But when I think about the film series now, I realize that a big part of its appeal was the characters.  Yes, they're broad.  Nuance wasn't their thing.  And as the sequels progressed, the silliness rose exponentially.  The same thing could probably be said for F&F, where our heroes have now progressed to robbing banks via car stunts.  Which is kind of like counterfeiting via swordfighting.  I'm sure a clever writer could make it work, but you have to admit it's not the most natural fit.

But what's understimated about Police Academy is that there's some very strong character work here.  Simple, yes.  But like most things in writing, I find the direct approach is greatly undervalued.  Yet when you think of characters and ideas that stick with you, they tend to be simple ones.  The characters and concepts that stand the test of time can usually be summarized effortlessly.  It's part of their appeal.

It's like comparing the original Star Wars films to the prequels.  The characters and story in the originals are all obvious and easily consumable.  The prequels . . . not so much.  This is why the prequels will always remain less memorable.  Everyone remembers that fight on Jaba's floating barge over the Sarlak pit.  Even if you haven't seen it, it's instantly recognizable.  Heck, the whole reason anyone originally thought Boba Fett was cool was because he had a cool costume that you knew on sight.  And even though Fett goes out like a chump, he still managed to leave a huge impression on the fans and non-fans.

(Yeah, yeah.  I know that he escaped the Sarlac and that the expanded universe explains blah blah blah.  Don't care.  If it isn't in the films, it doesn't count.  Rather, it counts for superfans, but not for regular, everyday fans, which is kind of the basis for what this post is all about.)

Even when we think in terms of negative reaction to a character or story, it tends to be built on a very obvious element.  Jar Jar Binks is annoying because he's so one-dimensional, but he is also, for better or worse, one of the most memorable characters in all the prequels.  And Skids and Mudflap from Transformers 2 might be obnoxious and irritating, but you can at least define their personalities versus almost every other Transformer and human in the film.

(And, yes, I also know about the possible racism leveled at Jar Jar, Skids, and Mudflap, but I've always felt it had less to do with intentional racism and more with the broad nature of their personalities.  Stereotypes are always broad, after all.  So is Jar Jar annoying and dumb because he's a racist caricature?  Or are racist caricatures annoying and dumb and easy to apply to any character that is annoying and dumb and NOT obviously an established ethnicity?  Skids and Mudflaps, for example, seem to me to have more in common with white kids who try to immitate a culture they find cool rather than minstrel throwbacks.  They are robots from outer space, after all, and you can't get much more non-ethnic and cultural outsider than that.  But this is threatening to throw this post in a whole different direction, so let's get back to what I was here to originally talk about.)

The Police Academy characters work because they are easy to grasp.  Almost intuitively, you need only a single defining moment with them to understand them. 

Mahoney: Good-natured smart ass

Hightower: Tower of stoicism and strength

Tackleberry: Overeager gun nut.

Callahan: No nonsense badass with a hidden softer side.

Jones: Goofy, creative sound FX guy.

Granted, these are not characters that you will write a major thesis on.  But they work.  And you can tell they work because even if you don't know the names, you can probably still imagine them.  And if you've seen the films, even if only in passing, you can probably remember them.

In comparison, take a look at the Star Wars prequels.  Can a casual viewer identify any particular Jedi without referring to the actor who played him?  And isn't Anakin Skywalker always going to be "The guy who grows up to be Darth Vader" because, well, Anakin is dull and uninteresting while Vader is pretty well-defined.  Sorry.  Not trying to bash the prequels.  Just using them for comparison.

The F&F films suffer from this lack of character even worse than the prequels.  In the theatrical trailer for the new movie, it ends with a shot of all the characters walking toward the camera.  And I am at an absolute blank to describe any of them in any interesting way.  I couldn't tell you their character names or anything about their personalities.  If I was stuck in a casual conversation about the F&F films, I'd inevitably have to refer to them by their actors' names.

In this way, the original Star Wars films show their real strength.  Harrison Ford went on to become one of the biggest actors in the world.  But it's rare for anyone to refer to Han Solo by Ford's name.  Because Han Solo is such a strong and well-known character.  Just as we also know that James Earl Jones is the voice of Darth Vader, but somehow, when he's on the screen, we immediately forget it.

I'm not suggesting that the Police Academy characters are as strong or as interesting as Han Solo or Princess Leia.  But then again, they did manage to become a big part of pop culture.  Robot Chicken even did an inspired parody of the Academy characters.  And considering that the original film was over twenty years ago, that's worth noting.

And there are probably plenty of parodies of F&F, but they're built on the car chases and the actors, never on the characters that populate the film.

So this is a long post, and as usual, I'm not sure what my original point was.  Other than to say that characters and stories need not be complex to be memorable and that, while car chases can be cool, it'd be nice to have some interesting characters in those cars.  Which is why, even with a lack of high speed chases, I'll take Police Academy or Fast and the Furious anyday.

Unless they add robot dinosaurs to the F&F movies.  In which case, I'd have to rconsider.  But then again, Michael Bay managed to destroy my love of robot movies so much that even with the possibility of a dinobot in the new film, I'll probably skip it.

Falls to his knees.  Shakes fist at indifferent heavens.

DAMN YOU, BAY!

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee

The Definitive Titanic 2 Review

In addition to being a world-renowned novelologist, game playing dude, and afficianado of giant fightin' robots, I am also, a B-movie fan.  I've seen a lot of them, and while most B movies aren't very good, there's something about the good ones (and the terrible ones) that can make them worth watching.  Anyone can make a decent movie with a big enough budget.  Sure, Tron Legacy stinks, but it sure does look pretty.  (Sorry.  I know I keep bashing Legacy but it's a reflex at this point.)

B movies (and C and D movies) can have a certain charm.  Not everyone gets this.  Most people like B movies in the "So Bad They're Good" way, and I do enjoy many a B movie for that reason too.  But then there are other Bs that aren't really horrible enough to laugh at and aren't all that great either.  They kind of sit in the middle and exist in this state of quantum uncertainty.  Are they bad enough to make fun of?  Sorta.  Are they good enough to surprise you?  No, not really.  So what are they?  Who gives voice to B films that aren't quite bad, aren't quite good?

Yours truly.  That's who.

And so today, I begin my (possibly) semi-regular feature on B movies that I've seen.  I'm not going to suggest you go and watch these films.  That's your call.  But they are available on Netflix, and people went ahead and made these movies.  So why not give them a look?  I'm fairly certain that if you made a film, these filmmakers would go ahead and watch yours, no matter how bad it was likely to be.

Today, it's 2010′s Titanic 2.

I will just say off the bat that this isn't a bad movie.  It's not very good either.  But it isn't boring, which is nice, and it has some decent FX and acting.  It managed to entertain me for 90 mins, which is more than Cameron's version did.  And it doesn't waste two hours with morons when really, I'm there to watch a boat sink.  Titanic 2 understands this, and I give it mad props (as the kids probably don't say anymore) for knowing what I'm there for.

Titanic 2 is about a boat called (you guessed it) Titanic 2.  Granted, this is an incredibly stupid idea.  If there was a reason our hero billionaire (played by Shane Van Dyke) had for building a replica of a boat synonomous with disaster, I didn't notice it.  Maybe it's his thing.  Maybe he's working on a Hindenburg 2, a Lusitania 2, and a New Coke 2.  If so, I can respect his moxy.

On the plus side, the boat is designed to only look like the original.  It has modern engines and the latest in lifeboats.  So, hey, it's not like the project is a complete screw up.  Although, if you haven't guessed that Titanic 2 is probably headed for disaster, you should stop reading this right now and go watch the film.  Spoilers are to follow.

By the way, it's mentioned several times that the ship's engines haven't been fully "tested" yet.  I'm not sure what that means.  Did they just slap on some engines and decide to see if they turn on later?  Are engines like calf muscles on long distance runners?  Will they seize up if they don't get a chance to stretch?  Or maybe they're warranty just expired.  This is a mystery I have yet to decipher.

In addition to our billionaire friend, there's also Marie Westbrook as a ship . . . er . . . lady.  I think a nurse.  I'm not quite sure.  She once had a relationship with Billionaire, so that's going to come up.  And there's also a pair of scientists studying glaciers or ice caps or something.  Guy Scientist (Bruce Davison who you will recognize even if you don't know his name) is also Nurse's father.  He knows Titanic 2 is not up to snuff, but, of course, Nurse fails to listen to him.  Lady Scientist (Brook Burns) is along just to give Guy Scientist someone to talk to, as far as I could tell.

That's really the extent of the characters.  There's a second nurse who is friends with Nurse, but let's be honest, we all know she's going to die at some point so it's hard to get too attached to her.  Titanic 2 seems to understand this too because it doesn't waste a lot of time with secondary or tertiary characters.  We don't meet any passsengers.  We barely get to know a handful of crew.  The brief time we spend before disaster strikes is spent with Billionaire, Nurse, or Guy and Lady Scientist.  And that's just fine with me.

Through a series of complications, a giant wave shoves an iceberg into the Titanic 2.  The ship immediately starts sinking, and people run around in a panic.  In the disaster, half the lifeboats are destroyed so that's a problem.  Although not really much of a problem considering that the second wave destroys all the lifeboats and everyone on board them.  Yeah, Titanic 2 racks up quite a body count.  And then at about the halfway point, the ship even explodes.  So that's not good.  And to add insult to injury, near the very end, another giant wave capsized the ship like the Poseidon.  In the meantime, Billionaire and Nurse run around trying to get to various locations for various arbitrary reasons.  And Guy and Lady Scientist talk about stuff while riding around in a helicopter.

Really, that's the plot and everything you need to know.

But let's get something straight here.  Titanic 2 isn't all that bad.  In fact, the directing is competent.  The FX are adequate.  And the few characters we do have seem like nice enough people I didn't mind rooting for.  I give the movie credit for a few unexpected twists.  Billionaire isn't a bad guy.  The disaster that befalls the ship is more one of circumstance than of his greed or incompetence (as is pretty standard in these sort of films).  And he even demonstrates his heroism by loading wounded people into his own escape helicopter and staying aboard the ship to help.  So technically, some people do survive the disaster though they are never mentioned or seen again after the helicopter scene.

This might be a good time to point out that Shane Van Dyke AKA Billionaire is also the writer and director of the film, so maybe he just wanted to make himself look good.  Still, I enjoyed that he wasn't just a douchebag who gets people killed as so many A and B movie billionaires tend to be.

The film moves at a fair clip.  If there are some strange scenes that don't add up to anything, they're over pretty quickly and then we're off to watch our heroes try not to die as things go from bad to worse to more worse.  In the end (spoiler) everyone aboard the ship but Nurse dies.  And honestly, that was a bit of a downer.  I kind of wanted Billionaire to live by the end of it.  He seemed like a decent sort.  But maybe that's in the rulebook for decent Billionaires.  They have to die so evil billionaires can take their place.

HIGH POINTS:

These are some points that left a positive impression on me.

There's a scene where a random bearded guy punches Billionaire while shouting "This is all your fault!"  It's surreal to watch as a guy who actually bought a ticket for a boat called the Titanic 2 complains about it sinking.  What did he expect?  Furthermore, it doesn't make a whole heck of a lot of sense to punch Billionaire, who is about to die with you anyway.  I enjoyed this brief scene because it was both absurd and actually, probably fairly realistic.

There's a cool shot of a helicopter trying to rise about a rushing wave.  It's nothing compared to something a blockbuster would put out there, but for a low budget flick, it's not bad.

There's a lot of shots of people looking at something in awe.  Very Spielbergian.  But, y'know what?  If I saw a giant wave coming at me, I'd probably gape too.  So this is a situation where gaping is permissable.

LOW POINTS

Not many.  The movie really isn't too bad.

There's a scene where our heroes have to use some pipes to climb past electrified water that went on too long.

There's another scene where Billionaire fails to save a man dying on the other side of a door.  I think it's to highlight his powerlessness and guilt, but at this point, the ship is already half sunk and on fire and a whole bunch of people have died, so that plot point was already made.

And then there's the end, in which (SPOILER) Nurse drags Billionaire's frozen body through the icy submerged depths of the ship with the hopes that the freezing water will preserve him enough to allow her to revive him.  Preposterous, certainly, but this isn't The Road.  I'm wililng to suspend my disbelief for a happy ending here.  After all, our heroes have gone through a lot to get to this point.

So she gets him to the surface and tries to revive him.  And . . . nothing.  He dies.  The end.  Kind of a downer.  And an unnecessary one at that.  I don't know if Shane Van Dyke was trying to be artistic by dangling false hope in front of me, but it only ended up annoying me.  So, hey, maybe Titanic 2 is high art, after all.  Maybe Cormac McCarthy coached Van Dyke on how to end on a depressing note in hopes of getting Titanic 2 an Oscar.  Who knows?  Who cares?

All I know is that, sure, a few hundred people died, but I didn't give a crap about any of them.  But I kind of cared for Billionaire, and if he'd lived, I would've probably given Titanic 2 a better recommendation.

So, overall, the film is decent.  It probably won't leave a tremendous impression, but it's not bad.  If you happen to be bored one afternoon and want to watch something about a boat sinking that doesn't take three hours to get to the sinking part, then you could do a lot worse.

Thumbs Up from this reviewer.

NEXT WEEK:  Mega Shark Vs. Crocasaurus!

Fighting the good fight, Writing the good write,

Lee