Saga of the Swamp Thing 20-64 (1983-1987)

I never liked some of Moore’s more famous creations, like Watchmen or the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (thought I did like the movie (I know, sacrilege)), but I had forgotten that I did actually like something by him, long ago. The Sage of the Swamp Thing. I never read it in its entirety when I first discovered it, but boy was it a great read. And coming back to it after all these years, it proved to be even better than I remembered. Moore took a second-class horror character and wrote one of the best comics runs in, well, the entire history of comics.

One impression I got after reading Watchmen was that Moore had not much love lost for superheroes, but Swamp Thing proved this wrong. Moore used one of the worst comics in history, Crisis on Infinite Earths, to write his own big crisis moment, which was infinitely better story and introduced John Constantine. Leading up to this moment thought was a string of impressive horror stories that completely redefined the character, made him not only current but timeless. But despite it being more horror than superheroes, Moore used the shared continuity to its best effort to contract both worlds, but never to deconstruct the heroes themselves. It always felt respectful, far more than I was expecting from him (like the later confrontation of Batman and Swamp Thing).

Moore started out with gutting the character, making him lose his identity and thus his sense of humanity, only to slowly rebuilt those aspects into a more unique character who still felt human but was also truly a thing from the swamp for the first time. Over the course of the entire series Moore’s creature held his own against various threats and even found love (which itself laid the basis for some of the heart-wrenching later stories).

After the big fight in the wake of the crisis things got uglier, with Moore exploring the reaction to a human/plant love. Reading it like that just shows how impressive Moore’s feat was, showing a romance between a human and a creature so completely outside what we would consider human. That Moore managed to make the love feel true and touching, despite Swamp Things nature, can’t be overstated enough.

And then Moore sent him to space, where he had various adventure and allowed the comic to go into a more SFnal direction, mostly leaving the horror roots behind, thought the horror vibe remained part of the comic until the end. Already powerful on Earth, Swamp Thing learned how to end fame for an entire world by restarting its biosphere in a big way. This plot point actually allowed for one of the best uses of the “Reed Richards Is Useless” trope that superheroes don’t use their powers to actually change our world for the better.

Swamp Thing, but all accounts, had the power to reshape entire biospheres. He could have solved Earth’s worst bio-desasters. At yet, the rules of superhero comics would never allow a major real-world change due to such powers. More than merely acknowledging this rule and glossing over it, Moore used it to make a good point that exemplified the unique nature of the Swamp Thing. Despite his human qualities, in the end he was something different, choosing to let humans decide their own fate for good or worse and be merely an observer, like all the plant elementals before him.

Moore managed to create a character who was human enough to empathize with, but alien enough to offer a unique viewpoint on life and everything. I’m not sure I learned something in the classical moral lesson way (thought there were enough ecological ones), but soaking in the strangeness of Swamp Thing’s world has been a rewarding experience.

Elektra (2005)

Now that is an utterly awful superhero movie. Kind of sad, considering that together with Catwoman this is one of the few superhero movies with a female character at the helm and both movies are complete garbage. In this case it’s because the entire pacing of the movie is off. While the plot is just as much done by the number as in many other superhero movies, it could have worked. But the action comes too late, is too infrequent and drowns under the whole emotional angle of the movie. Not that the whole romance (and bonding with the victims experience) should have been shelved, but at least not blown up to the size that it had. In the end, it’s a movie full of missed chances that will bore you to death and once the action actually starts you’re already asleep.

Daredevil: Director’s Cut (2004)

My interest in Daredevil was pretty much sunk by all the reviews ripping it to pieces (I really shouldn’t give so much about other people’s thoughts is the obvious lesson I take from that), because after watching it I can’t say were all the animosity came from. It’s not the greatest superhero movie of all time, but it’s certainly not the worst, not even one of the weaker ones. It does a good job of introducing the character, setting the story up and then getting on with the action. The way they depicted Daredevil’s superhuman senses was also really brilliantly realized and showed the unique strengths of the film medium.

Plot-wise it’s starts with a condensed origin that is actually fun to watch, then follows in the present with Daredevil in his lawyer persona trying to win a case and later using his vigilante persona to get some justice done (because he obviously lost the case). Various plot-threads are taken up: Matt Murdock and love interest Elektra meet for the first time, Matt and his partner have to win a case, a journalist who tries to get information on both the Daredevil and the Kingpin, Daredevil gets into the way of the Kingpin’s interests and Kingpin’s longtime associate (Elektra’s father) wants to get out. The plots begin to intertwine until they lead into a big fight between Bullsey and Daredevil and a short but climatic fight between Daredevil and the Kingpin.

There is a certain done by the number-plotting style present in the movie, but that actually works in its favor. We know when the semi-villain fight is coming, we know we the good-vs-good fight arrives and all those moments you expect actually turn up and never disappoint. The biggest letdown of the movie are mostly the villains. Bullseye is hard to take seriously because he’s played too cartoony by the actor while the actor for the Kingpin has a tremendous presence but doesn’t convey the Machiavellian characteristics I was expecting.

Still, if you want a fun, enjoyable superhero movie in a relatively lowkey setting, Daredevil is pretty much the go-to movie. There’s also none of the sentimentality present that took the fun out of the Spider-Man movies, who in there best moments where much better than Daredevil, but in their worst completely unwatchable, unlike Daredevil.

In Hero Years… I’m Dead (2010)

Superhero prose fiction is a stealth genre in my mind. Over the years there have been a number of book, most famously probably the Wild Cards series, that is mentioned on fantasy and science fiction review sites, but which are part of their own tradition. This isn’t me trying to argue about creating another genre, rather that there are a couple of works that constitute their own branch of fiction and yet nobody looks at it like that.

Probably part to this situation is the fact that even when a writer isn’t doing tie-ins, most prose superhero fiction references Marvel or DC characters. Take for instance Stackpoles IHY..ID, which has a superman and batman analogue (and in a clever twists also an evil batman analogue and in a further twists there’s something going on with the batman analogue). Puma, I think, was a reference to DC’s Wildcat.

It’s hard to argue for superhero prose fiction as its own thing, when it constantly reminds you of its roots in comics. At times these books feel more like an extension of superhero comics, than their own thing. And in a way that’s okay with me, even a good thing. It’s a great starting position, where you can easily communicate the tropes of the genre to everyone who ever saw a superhero movie or read the comics. But the novels have something to offer that few comics do. More complex characterization than is the norm in most superhero comics and characters that are allowed to age and grow. All the stuff that is easier done in prose fiction and without the limitations of an ever-growing continuity.

Stackpole’s novel is a good example for the advantages of prose fiction. The setup with a retiring hero coming back to the city of his hero years (capital city), the thing that superheroing has developed into over the years, it’s a take that feels pretty different from anything you can read in comics. Not really fresh, for that there are too much conventions of the genre stacked upon each other. At times there’s a satiric element to it, but thankfully Stackpole plays the entire story straight and even the overly satirical elements (peanut butter) have their place. The story never really goes to places you don’t expect it to, but as a well-told story in the superhero genre is far above most of the material published in comic form (and since I do like superhero comics, I don’t mean that remark in a degatory way, just that Stackpole’s story is really excellent).

The Complete Hägar 1973-1975 (2007)

So, after trying out the Peanuts, I wondered whether it was just a first years syndrome. After all, the Peanuts went on for 50 years. Surely it might just be that the strip only got good after a decade or two went by. I wanted to see if something comparable happened with another strip and tried out Hägar the Horrible. Not really. Sure, artwise the first strips in the complete collection (it’s the German one which is already up to its 15 volume, I think there are only three in the UK at the moment) still look a bit rough, but instead of repeating the Peanuts experience (boredom) I was instantly enthralled.

Not every strip made me chuckle, but I can honestly say that the majority were funny. Some laugh out loud funny, many just very amusing. I went through that collection in a short time and never wanted to stop reading. From the very first strip Hägar was on fire. Sure, it’s an entirely different kind of humor than Peanuts and maybe it’s more suited to my taste. But it’s really not a matter of subtlety. Most jokes in Peanuts really are of the same simple and obvious kind as in Hägar and they still don’t work. Whatever people who like it see in it, it feels to me it’s more something they bring into it than something that’s already there.

Hägar’s source of humor is much more obvious to me. Take a present day family but present them in terms of a fake Viking culture, while retaining the modern sensibilities. And it works. I don’t need to have been a family father to find Hägar’s humor funny. It’s the same with Dilbert. I laughed about the jokes about corporate culture even before I realized that some of those insanities are really based on reality (now that I’m part of corporate culture my laughter sometimes feels pained).

The jokes are rarely truly clever in Hägar, most of the time it’s more like done by the number. But really, as long as they actually make me laugh I don’t really care. Refinement has it’s place, but only after I manage to be amused in the first place. And seeing Hägar near death but happy far away form home, seeing dragons turn away from him because he doesn’t look tasty and healthy in the first place, all these things make me laugh. Even in this first volume entire jokes and themes get repeated occasionally and I expect further volumes in the complete Hägar won’t cover much different ground, but as long as I find them funny it doesn’t matter.

The Complete Peanuts 1953-1954 (2004)

It’s been some time since I read the first volume of the complete Peanuts, mostly because I avoided reading on. I really wanted to like Peanuts, because it’s been a major influence on some of my favorite comics strips and I want to have a similiarly splendid experience as all those million peoples who liked it in its heyday, but the first volume really deflated all my expectations. I was sort of hoping that the first volume was a fluke, a cartoonist trying to find his voice, instead of a general indication of the entire direction.

So far, volume two hasn’t won me over either and only bolstered the impression I got from the first one. 95% of all the Peanuts strips are boring, trite, totally unfunny and I have to force myself to read on. The few times when I actually chuckle and find some amusement, is when words are abandoned and some situational slapstick with Snoopy occurs. I actually dread the moment when Schulz switches Snoopy over from silent to speaking dog.

And that’s I think what Peanuts means to me in the end. I love the art. I really do. When Schulz allows it to carry a strip on its own, it entirely succeeds. But these strips are very rare. Instead we get endless pointless discussion between the main characters that are neither funny nor insightfull and bore me to death.

One of those Schulz influenced was Bill Watterson, whose famous strip managed a believable kid as a character who still said things meaningful to all ages. Peanuts does nothing of the sort, having kid characters only in appearance who don’t feel like kids at all and who still don’t manage to say anything I find interesting or meaningful. I really, really don’t get how the Peanuts became one of the most famous comic strip of the last century.

Alien vs. Predator (2004)

I’ve watched the sequel because I was bored on a long flight and had nothing better to do. It was entertaining, but not really good. Due to that I’ve never tried the first one, thinking it couldn’t be much better. Turns out, despite all the negative press it gets, it’s actually okay. Not brilliant, but as far as B-movie action fare goes, pretty good.

Sure, it breaks some of the continuity of the alien movies (and the predator franchise as well, probably), like Charles Bishop Weyland turning up or the aliens hatching far too fast than previous depicted, but if you can overlook that, it is a well done slugfest between aliens, predators and humans (actually the humans are more like cannon fodder and only one of them survives until the end). It’s funny, that the ending mirrors to a degree the second Predator movie, with a human given a token gesture of respect from the Predators.

Maybe I do like both movies more than the original Predator with Schwarzenegger, because it gives a slightly (very slight) concession that the Predators are more than just monsters. Sure, they are killers, but at least AvP and Predator 2 gave an inkling that there was a sort of culture behind (however deranged from our point of view). The Predator culture has this insane vibe – allowing for the entire destruction of a world for ritualistic reasons – which makes them so compelling. Science fiction at its most optimistic always looks upon technology as a tool to advance living standards, understanding and communication. The predators are a harsh reminder that not everyone is using technology like that, some just try to bolster their atavistic impulses. And that at times looks more realistic than any SFnal optimism.

But the real reason the movie works is the action. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, but it’s always fun seeing the Predators hunt, using their advanced weaponry on the aliens with various degrees of success and the expected outcome for the few humans.

Brazil (1985)

Brazil mixes Orwellian dystopia with Kafkaeske vibes and a whimsical tone reminiscent of comedies. It’s a cult classic for many, but I really dislike it. The whimsical nature detracts from the underlying horror and weakens the impact of the movie. I prefer my dystopias with more bite, a systemic shock that makes you feel their soul-crushing horror at every moment. Not, you know, dreams and gimmicky world-building (at the times the movie is too much in love with the fantasy-style dreams of the protagonist).

Also, the movie really made me wonder if dystopias go as easily stale as Utopian visions. Maybe because of the comedic tone, but nothing in the movie really struck me as horrifying instead of laughable and plain boring. I watched this originally when I was still in school for whatever reason and had a dim memory of not disliking it. On my rewatch I only managed to get through one and half hour of the Director’s Cut before I gave up. I have nothing against a well done dystopic movie, even if they aren’t my preference in science fiction, but I’ve never thought I would stumble upon one that could be so utterly boring and trite.

Silver Screen (1999)

Silver Screen’s entire plot is a clever sleight of hand, a misdirection that is only resolved on the last pages. Most of the important plot points: was Roy’s death a suicide or murder, what was the point of the source Anjuli uncovered, Jane’s role in everything, none of these ever got resolved to my satisfaction at the end. And yet, the book drew me in with it’s assured and strong depiction of AI psychologist Anjuli O’Connell, who is one of the best characters in my recent memory.

It’s a book that on the surface explore the questions of sentience and human equivalence of the burgeoning AIs of a near future. None of the questions asked seemed especially fresh or new to me (are AIs ever comparable humans, what does it mean to have a different mode of experience that is still sort of equivalent to humans) and it’s pretty clear from the start where the authors sympathies were. But even if I didn’t get any in-depth, analytical exploration of these questions in the vein of the likes of Greg Egan, I really appreciated the book. I think Robson honestly started out with exploring those questions and even if she didn’t find any answers, at least she gave a great depiction of what it must feel like living through such a time, to have to deal with these questions not in the abstract, but as a concrete reality staring you in the face.

And lets be honest, it’s not like these are easy questions. You probably could explore them a lifetime and still have no definitve answer. Just look at the people trying to get a grip on what is consciousness. Some questions are hard and if we don’t feel like that we have any answers, at least we can frame the entire debate as a compelling drama with human characters whose emotional landscape we can understand to some degree. For a book that feels so incomplete plot-wise at the end, it leaves a strong impression.

Angel S3 (2001-2002)

There’s a pretty good reason I categorize Angel as a soap-opera. Nobody really learns anything, nobody really changes. The only way to leave is to die, because otherwise it would imply going through the same cycle of characterization that is part of every characters make-up. The prime example for this is surely Angel, whose cycle goes like this: sad and emo to deeply, violently obsessed with something to remorseful and a bit clueless. The first time you see the cycle it may feel interesting, the second time it makes you yawn and then you only get annoyed.

Other characters on the show flip-flop mostly between two emotional states/phases of development and in general every serious character growth or development is undone via authorial dictate and rarely feels like a natural development. That the series still manages to entertain is mostly due to its content, because even a soap opera can be fun when it includes regular monster killing.

As for what went on in season three: Angel got a son, a vampire-hunter from the past turned up with the help of a demon, the son got kidnapped, Angel got angry at Wesley and nearly killed him and Cordelia became a higher being and left. Yeah, it was really fun, most of the time. But the need to inject drama always ended up making the show look more ridiculous, not deeper or better.