Thursday, 20 November 2014

300, film vs book

While browsing the shelves in the local Sally Army shop I spied the 2 DVD edition of 300 the other day, since I hadn't watched it, I thought I'd pick it up for the 50p asking price and give it a spin. It's a pretty faithful vision of the comic so the idea coalesced that I might write a brief comparison. If you haven't read the comic or seen the film, I should warn you there's a few spoilers to follow.

Firstly, did you ever see that fick, U-571, if you don't recall, it was a WWII flick which reference the historical drama regarding German u-boat codes and the capture of the Enigma machine, all highly fictionalised of course. It was subject to some consternation over here at the time of its release because it was seen as an exercise in poaching glory from our own valiant lads, much in the same manner as the notorious Objective Burma, the flick with Errol Flynn. All a bit of a storm in a tea cup really because there was no way the flick represented itself has a fact based drama but that's the press for you, somehow these pointless battles over symbolism and national pride, gain significant portent when that nation is withering on the vine. Well Miller's 300 was subject to the same sort of criticism from some prominent quarters in the comic trade, I think Alan Moore called it "...poorly researched" when his ire had been piqued by a single line referring to Athenian patricians as, boy lovers. Miller's retort actually belied a rather better understanding of the history, as we conventially think of it, than Moore's  accusation did but that's beside the point, anyone looking at Miller's 300 and expecting--history is not really playing hopscotch in the same park.

It's not totally devoid of historical interest but it has about as much to do with the conventional interpretation of classical history as an episode of Xena Warrior Princess and it should be appreciated in that light. I quite liked Miller's 300, when I say quite, I mean a lot. Miller's interpretation of the Thermopylae legend was a breath of fresh air, something to cut through the snot that congests the sinuses with most post eighties US comics. You get a good sense of Miller's method with all his artwork, let's just say he's not one to dawdle, not while he's got pen in hand anyway, his layouts are slightly more intricate and his care and skill with cadence is probably matchless amongst contemporary artists working in the medium.

Cadence is an extremely important and often overlooked aspect of writing for comics, I define it as the synthesis of image and word, with the goal of pacing the reading experience. We experience comics differently than we do a narrative conveyed through copy alone, as in a novel, there we take it in at our own pace. There are techniques for tripping up those scanning a page at apace, getting them to stop and smell the roses, so to speak but it's generally a losing battle and it's not something that is in vogue with today's popular authors. When a comic is working well, cadence can be seamless, when they're not working quite so well it can be an awkward encumberment, like reading through the over embellished dialogue that occasionally afflicts action sequences. The cadence in 300 isn't seamless however, in fact it's quite noticeable, if not intrusive, Miller has rendered the prose deliberately punctuated and taciturn, it's a Laconic ode, if that's not an oxymoron. It's a fitting approach considering the subject and it serves to underline the nature and character of the Spartans.

The Laconic ode is my first problem with the film, yes I do have problems with it although I did quite enjoy it. The film makes a fair attempt at emulating the comic's narrative style but it comes across as a bit shouty, more Brian Blessed than I can easily cope with, Gerard Butler being the chief offender, every time he would shout "Spartans!!!!!!" I wanted to wince. There are other problems with the pacing of the film, its makers chose to insert a couple of scenes one of which isn't so bad, it's the Tree bearing blossom, blossom that would attract flies as it should bees and bear only the fruit of such visitors' spawn, that right, it's laden with corpses. It's the kind of thing I could imagine Miller himself using, if the symbolism wasn't quite so familiar, as it is it's a little bit of a cliché and it offends in a manner that Miller was careful to avoid in the comic, in that it characterises the invaders as bad guy stereotypes and it's too heavy a weight in the mythologising of the Spartans as the good guys. Spartans in reality were pretty brutal to their own rustic villagers, an example of such brutality is that, during certain festivals, they were given licence to murder them, that's if you believe the history of course, which was written by Athenians. The other insertion into the narrative of the film is much more of a problem, there are several extra scenes inserted, dedicated to an entire sub plot that is absent from the comic. This would be Leonidas's Queen and the political intrigue than occurs concurrently with the action at Thermopylae. The motive for inserting this episode, which is quite a tedious obstacle to the flow of the narrative and replete with lumpy narrative conformity, is pretty obvious, it's almost laughable in fact. I can imagine the scene as the studio executive are seated around a black granite table pawing over a treatment or draft script, somewhere during the the proceedings a voice would be raised, "Where are the strong women in this film?". So integrity is backed, once again, into a corner, its fate sealed with contrived thrust of a sword into stereotype villain, gawd help us. Well at least it gives some much needed work to some actors but that's the only benefit that flows from this sub plot, which sees the queen of Sparta prostituted, coerced into a tawdry sexual liaison by her lascivious antagonist, only to publicly exact her vengeance upon this ravisher, with his murder. An act that coincidentally, exposes him as a traitor, as the gold he's been bought with spills to the floor, oh please stop it--my sides are hurting.

This particular aspect of main stream culture, represents a probably unprecedented imposition on creators interested in exploiting the main stream to disseminate their narratives. I have hinted on the topic in the past here, when I was still scratching my head to understand what exactly was going on. I'm still not sure I do have proper cognisance for the reasons behind it but it's a trivial matter to see that it is contrived. Imagine an adaptation of Little Women, where studio execs insisted on the insertion of a sub plot, involving bar fights, gun play and the heroic, self sacrificing deeds of some unsung masculine stereotype, be honest now, that's never going to happen is it?

Beside the probably unnecessary insertions, the film makes several omissions, Stumblios is missing, along with the entire episode of his fall and subsequent events, quite an important omission, in my eyes. Stumblios is the nickname used to refer to Stelios, a seemingly inept lesser member of the ranks, who Leonidas rescues from a beating at the hands of his, over enthusiastic captain. Stelios progresses to the point where he delivers the blow to Xerxes emissary that severs his arm. This would put him in the territory of the right of passage stereotype but Miller is a bit cleverer than that. He uses Stelios to extract humour as he prompts amusement when his comrades dub him Stumblios, I challenge anyone not to laugh at that moment. Then he uses him to offer insight into the character Leonidas, who chastises his men by ordering them to forgo food and drink that night but instead of acting as a supercilious patrician, casually imposing a per capita punishment, on the heads of all for the deeds of a few, he elevates him, when Leonidas includes himself amongst the chastised. Something that elevates him to soldier, a soldier who avows his own culpability as well of that as that of the men under his command. It's an episode that is used effectively to engage the reader and draw empathy towards the Spartans, we laughed with them when we laughed at Stumblios, we feel their contrition as they're chastised. I think Stumblios might've been omitted for fear of offending, he draws on a stereotypical Greek name, which I'm sure is not authentic for the period, so he would offend on two counts. It's something you could get away with in a comic but it would draw out too many pedants and blue noses in a high profile feature film, unfortunate really because those aspects are part of what make him effective.

Ephialtes's tragedy is also affected by omission but it's harder to reconcile the reasoning for this, as he's introduced, twice he exclaims that his parents were right to save him as he endeavours to join the Spartans in their mission. When confronted with Leonides's rejection he throws himself from a cliff, attempting suicide as he shouts, "... you were wrong!". The film omits his endorsement of his parents and his apparent suicide, substituting an elaboration of his seduction by Xerxes in his harem. This throws a slightly different light on his betrayal, where in the comic, there's an an element of rebirth, a casting aside of his old life, the film reduces it to a simple act self interest.

One of the strengths of the book is the portrayal of Xerxes, who conventionally is, somewhat incredulously, portrayed as something of a clown, who it's claimed, was so enthralled by his own chagrin he ordered the waters beaten with whips when his bridge was swept away, uh yeah I'm absolutely sure that's what happened. Miller rightly junks that bilge in favour of that of a charismatic potentate, someone who you could actually believe could harbour ambition to subjugate the world and maybe even achieve that ambition. Xerxes weakness flows from the same source as his strength, the supreme confidence in own his own power, that sees him fashion himself as a god, that makes him a curiously unitary and compelling character. Miller keeps things brief with Xerxes, he's revealed through his influence as much as his presence, a device that allows a certain amount of projection from the reader. The film is faithful to Miller's vision but somewhat more explicit, where Miller hints at Xerxes rage, the film depicts him near apoplexy as he threatens to erase Leonides from history. On the whole, I'm quite impressed with the film's depiction of Xerxes, it's a little more baroque than in the comic but that works and his interaction with Leonides is reasonably well preserved, Rodrigo Santoro deserves recognition for a fine performance.

One aspect of the film's visual feel that does bother me, quite a bit it must be said, is that it's a little antiseptic in it's portrayal of the Spartans, they're all bit too uniform. Yes they're portrayed suffering the privations of war but they've all got neatly oiled pecs and abs as they're doing so and there's this weird bathing suit model feel about them, something that's not helped by the measures taken to preserve their modesty, if you catch my drift. On occasion it looks like they're all wearing swimming trunks, it comes across a bit contrived compared to the occasional depiction of the, tackle out, Spartans of the comic, who when they are covering themselves up, are achieving it with something not much more the size of a handkerchief. I would've prefered something a bit more rough and ready, you know, perhaps not every featured actor  needed to have the same purposefully honed physique, a few bellies with some girth to 'em, maybe they should've  hired a few cage fighters, I dunno.

So what's the conclusion then? well the film is pretty good fun, it's just a little annoying that it doesn't quite match the comic in subtlety. I wouldn't say that it doesn't do the comic justice, it's probably a pretty fair adaptation, one thing I really like is the studio feel it has to it and the stylised approach to photography, it makes it feel more like a homage to the comic medium. I think if I were Miller, I would be pretty pleased with it and I'm sure the cheque would help in that regard too.

Monday, 17 November 2014

Superman, True Brit

I've hinted in the past that I'm not keen on most critique, yeah I know it can be amusing, compelling even and on the odd occasion, a brilliant exposition of its authors insight and talents but the overwhelming majority is more than slightly disingenuous. There are several reasons behind this, the tendency to aim critique at a creator, rather than the creation and the herd mentality for which the imperative can be so compelling, it's far from unique to see folk dismissing work that they have absolutely no personal knowledge of. I once witnessed a pundit of no mean repute, offering a withering appraisal of a BBC popular drama serial. Her stream of pithy observations on the acting and narrative techniques were going down quite well amongst her peers, on BBC2's The Late Show when she made the unfortunate error of deriding the choice of incidental music. It was unfortunate because the BBC had chosen to advertise the program with a number of trailers overdubbed with music from On Her Majesty's Secret Service, music that didn't feature in the program itself. When it became apparent that she'd only watched the trailers and not the show itself, her colleague and host interjected hastily, cutting short her diatribe, much to her chagrin I imagine, until he would prompt her on her faux pas later in the hospitality suite.

Even when critique is good it can only ever be a response, true creativity lies with those brave enough to lay their gnads out there and risk getting them stomped on. Even so, every once in a while you encounter a work that instils the urge to berate it and its creator, so powerfully that it's impossible to resist, such a work is True Brit.

-*-

True Brit is one of the comics to come from DC's Elseworlds imprint, written by Kim "Howard" Johnson with some contribution ostensibly by John Cleese. The extent of Cleese's creative input is unclear, what is clear, is that his name is seen as important enough a contributor to sales potential, that he's listed as the sole author in certain places, like Amazon for instance. Like all of DC's Elseworld books, True Brit's plot revolves around a what if scenario, in this instance that would be: what if Kal El's spaceship landed in Gloucestershire and the prospective superman adopted by a typical British couple, you know, a bit like Red Son.

Unlike Red Son though, True Brit is played for laughs, of course it is, they wouldn't make such a fuss over Cleese's involvement if it weren't and I imagine the perceptual bias of Britain prevalent in the US would make the consideration of straight treatment impossible. That's OK though, humour needn't be tedious, it can be vital, satirical, offer insight and sidestep taboos--cant' it? Yeah well it can and who knows, maybe if a British author who'd contributed more than just his name to the project had been involved, that might have been the case but True Brit, I'm afraid, offers none of that. I don't think there's too great a risk in speculating that Kim quote Howard unquote Johnson is not a native Englander, nor has he spent a great deal of time in this once sceptred isle, so being somewhat handicapped with a paucity of first hand experience he's had to fall back on the device of recycling familiar stereotype. Alas this reliance on hackneyed material is not Johnson's only shortcoming as regards to humour, his painful attempts at surreal wit and punning are enough to sedate all inclination to laughter, one example being, the revelation of The Batman. Let me give you a clue: The Batman, man, cricket bat, grotesque accident, oh so hilarious juxtaposition--hmmmm.

It's been a long while since any work of fiction has instilled such a feeling of resentment in me, in fact I'm not sure if anything has, possibly the only thing that's come close is when Doctor Who was turned into side kick for the Chuckle Brothers. There's a thread of commonality there, that of an established character, invested with a weighty mythos being butchered before your eyes, that's not the reason for my resentment I think though. It's the utter waste of time and resources, not just my time reading the bloody thing, John Bryne did the artwork for it. Although not one of my personal favourites, he's a flipping legend in the comic world, what the hells he doing on this?

One finally word on the topic, if you were ever interested in comics you probably made some attempt at a strip while you were still in short trousers. I'm telling you honestly that strip, written when you were eleven and drawn in crayon, THAT's a better comic than True Brit, yes it is that bad.

Thursday, 18 September 2014

Party Tricks

Here's a neat trick question to pose if the opportunity presents itself, in such circumstances as a genteel gathering with family members, one where such pastimes as charades and word games might be practiced:

Who was the first person to be appointed Prime Minister in the British Parliament?

Make sure you write the question down because Robert Walpole, is the answer that will spring forth from all the smart alecs in the room. Although he's is reasonably considered to be the first Prime Minister, the actual title of such, that is: Prime Minister, didn't become official until much later, the official title being, First Lord of the Treasury. You need to write the question down of course, to quell the dissent and quibbling over your wording, when you, oh so graciously, enlighten your companions with the correct answer, that being: Henry Campbell-Bannerman.

Campbell-Bannerman was Scottish of course, so it seemed rather apt to me, on this auspicious day, to highlight his contributions to political life, which were not at all meagre. Campbell-Bannerman was the sane man in the monkey house when the nation was gripped with war fever and its his opposition to and resolution of, the second Boer War that most resonates with me.




I wonder how history would've played out without his contribution? It's impossible to draw any conclusions of course, other than those born from speculation but it seems to me that his, methods of barbarism, speech is a pivotal point in our history.





Friday, 12 September 2014

Jacques Brel

I've been to Brussels and it's a place that doesn't live to the stereotype, at least in my eyes anyway. It was quite a while ago and I'm sure it's changed a lot since, but I witnessed a city of quite eerie contrasts. I'm told the city was built up substantially from the profits of  Belgian colonial exploits and it was interesting to see that, although the northern baroque portion of the city was well tended and restored, the 19th century quarters were left in incongruous state of the decay. Almost as if the city were a living entity trying to leave the past behind, as it chased a future as a modern European hub of commerce, free from the associations of colonialism.

I was there scouting for a project that never took off the ground but it wasn't an altogether fruitless trip, the museum of modern art was well worth the effort alone. Unfortunately though one of the main attractions, Le Théâtre Royal de Toone, Toone's, as we refereed to it on the trip, was inaccessible, being booked solid. 

Name a famous Belgian is a game oft spawned when the subject turns to that nation and although I'm no expert on the country, I know enough to disrupt the anticipated hilarity. The person in question would be Jacques Brel, yeah that's right he's not French but Belgian, there's at least a chance though, that you've never heard of him. If that should be the case, then think of some of those embarrassing songs peddled by the balladeers of yesteryear like: If You Go Away--Dusty Springfield, et al and Seasons in the Sun--Jerry Tacks or would that be Terry Jacks? Well it turns out they're rather mawkish translations of Brel's original works, which, in their original form, are rather more--vibrant. Anyway to prove the point, here's Brel performing one of his own works, that happened to be one work of his that wasn't accompanied with a wobbly chin when performed in English by Alex Harvey, of The Sensational Alex Harvey Band.


Monday, 1 September 2014

Dirty Helmut

This one's a littler further than a doodle, I even did it on paper. It's for a single page comic strip I've been pondering, I'll probably wont take any further than the pondering, but who knows. If you take a close look at the image you might spot one of the disadvantages inherent with graphite pencils, the metallic sheen that is usually apparent to some degree, it's conspicuous here because I snapped it with a flash.



Sind hier sieben Schüsse raus oder nur sechs?

Monday, 25 August 2014

The doodle files 6

Some doodles again, these were all done on the my desk top again, which is becoming quite grimy with the residue from the various pencils I keep scrbbling on its surface with.

Just some crazy chick.

Steve Zodiac, a doodle executed while pondering an alternative illustration to Fireball.

This would be a sketch of Robert, again for the Fireball story.

This one is a real crazy chick but her left eye is a bit wonky, cos it's really supposed to be covered up.



Saturday, 12 July 2014

Fireball (fiction)

About this: A very short story, it's could probably be categorised as fan fiction I've included an updated version of that xl5 illustration and should offer a warning it does throw up some fruity language, mostly confined to the start though.



Fireball

'Z'dayak -- Steve Z'dayak!' Steve enunciated firmly into his communications mike, an image of girl a smirking at his contrived pronunciation wormed through his mind as he waited for a response. Sure enough the girl's tone attested to the amusement she's gleaned during the few seconds she'd stolen to, not quite effectively, quell her chuckling.

'Ehem yes Mr. -- Zed - ay - aher -ak! -- we're waiting for your clearance to the enter the outer traffic control zone. If you can hold your present pattern, we'll give you clearance shortly, control out'.

'Bitch!' Steve Zodiac wasn't sure if he closed his mike in time to mask his petulance as he threw his headset at the console, 'it's Captain Zodiac - you fucking cow!'.

'Now now, you know that military designations are optional for civilian flight control, Captain -- Z'dayak,' said Venus as she stepped into the flight deck. Steve didn't have to turn to witness the smirk on his female colleague's face. The fact that she'd caught him out pronouncing the name he'd been baptised with would certainly have accentuated that expression which seemed to be permanently stamped onto her fizog.

'What is it?' he inquired, he kept his face turned towards the flight console with faux attentiveness.

'Oh I've just come to ask Robert if he'd like to watch a movie in the leisure suit, we are holding for flight control -- aren't we?' Venus made it perfectly clear she was aware that Steve's apparent preoccupation with the flight controls was a pantomime.

'MOVIE -- MOVIE!' Robert piped as he sat in the copilot's chair.

'I need the robot here, clearance will be through in a few minutes!'

'Captain, with all due respect...' does anyone use that phrase, thought Steve, when they have an ounce of respect for the person they're addressing, '...according to Space Patrol guidelines, Robert...' she pronounced the name with deliberate emphasis '...should be afforded the same working practices as human crew members, to ensure optimum effectiveness. He's been on the flight deck for four hours, which mean he's due for a twenty minute break'. Yeah twenty minutes with which you do what together, thought Steve, watch a movie? Venus's and Robert's relationship was a source of constant ire to Steve, Robert was a true Robot, a synthetic human of sorts but with a rather limited personality, a limitation imposed by the current state of the art of robotics. The state of that art though, was advanced enough to endow Robert with the full complement of human physical characteristics.

'I've been here six hours!'.

'Yes Captain, I'm aware rank does come with certain commitments,' said Venus 'but I really must insist, we don't want to make an issue out of this -- do we?'.

'ISSUE -- ISSUE, DON'T WANT TO MAKE ISSUE!' Robert bleeped, somehow I don't think that'll be a problem, thought Steve.

Steve festered inwardly at Venus's veiled threat, his reprimand for his conduct with her predecessor had already put a break on his career. He was stuck on this rust bucket XL5, known by the name Fireball by the rest of Space Patrol, an ironic reference to its reputation as being the slowest ship in the fleet. He was going to put his foot down this time though. 'No -- we're not going to make an issue out of this, he's needed on the flight deck. Regulations give me prerogative to override scheduled breaks when there's a clear imperative for a crew member to remain at his station'.

'REMAIN AT STATION!' Steve thought he could detect a hint of disappointment in Robert's metallic synthesized drone, 'REMAIN AT STATION!' Randy bastard.

'Fireball, Fireball, Fireball XL5' the communicator rattled with the voice of the female flight controller, abruptly interrupting the discourse.

Steve fumbled for his headset, 'What?' he barked into his mike a he placed it on his head, then his gathered his composure quickly, 'Er, Xl5, Xl5, Xl5 -- responding, control'.

'Please observe voice communications protocol, Fireball'.
'The call sign's Xl5 control' Steve was eager to reciprocate the supercilious tone.

Undeterred the faceless controller continued, 'We have a delay here -- FIREBALL, you need to hold for another two hours, can you acknowledge?'.

'Roger -- two hours delay,' he said with a grunt that betrayed his exasperation.

'Thank you Fireball, control out'.

'So -- no imperative then, Robert's free to come with me,' Venus smirked.

'FREE TO COME -- FREE TO COME,' yeah I bet you are.

'Yes -- you go, just leave me here' Robert jumped from his his flight seat with something too akin to eagerness for Steve's comfort, then they left the flight deck together. 'Have fun,' he uttered when he felt sure they were out of earshot.

'Two hours,' Steve moaned to himself, 'two hours of staring into bloody blackness, why did they make the observation canopies on these bloody flight decks so huge? what the bloody hell is there to look at. That bloody robot better be back here in twenty minutes,' he said as he checked the chronograph on the flight control panel. He started to absent mindedly strum his fingers on the instrument panel, as he did so he accidentally flipped the cover of the main retro switch, 'Oh bugger!'. He folded his arms and sat silently for a few moments, then lapsed into daydream.

To pass the time on such occasions, Steve had fostered a elaborate but a rather unimaginative fantasy life. He was Colonel Zodiac and no one laughed at his name in his world. Somewhat incongruously for someone of such advanced rank, he was still an acting Space Patrol pilot, an inconsistency he never bothered to reconcile. Instead of exercising his imagination to explore The Lost Planet of Nubile Nymphomaniacs, he'd concern his meandering thoughts with petty revenge on those who frustrated him or drew his envy in reality. Venus was a compliant ingénue, attentive to his every word, Matt his able chief engineer, a myopic scatterbrain, Robert a grotesque android constructed from waste perspex and yoghurt cartons. This time though, the inadequacies that plagued his reality permeated his subconscious and the strings he'd tug to manipulate the characters of his fantasy coalesced into a physical form. His characters turned into marionettes and inside his mind he couldn't stem the transformation, it continued until his entire world was populated exclusively with caricatures hopping around on strings. When he looked into his fantasy world mirror and saw the comically furtive eyes of a puppet staring back at him, his fantasy concluded abruptly.

Startled by this exit from his fantasy world, he tried to think of something to take his mind off the experience and pass the time. Then it occurred to him that he could review the Space Patrol bulletins, the last thing he normally choose to occupy himself, although he was supposed to attend to that task daily. 'Let me see,' he said as he thumbed through the bulletins on his clipboard, 'new procedures for engine maintenance, Oh I'll have to tell Matt about that. Nutritional guidelines, blah blah, Oh what's this -- product warning for XK2ooo robot personnel'. After a few moments reading Steve flipped on the internal communication switch, 'Venus, call the flight deck please'.

Moments later Venus's voiced broke in over the communications system, 'Yes!' she didn't sound too pleased.

'Look, I don't need Robert here for an hour or so, tell him to take an extended break, Oh and by the way, I've released the lockout on the zero g facility for the leisure suite'. Steve knew the prospect of zero g gymnastics would ensure that Venus and Robert availed themselves of that facility, his face broke into a wicked smile.

--*--

ITEM 9 PRODUCT WARNING XK2000 ROBOT PERSONNEL

As a result of a notification from the manufacturer, Cyberdrone Systems Inc. The following additional operational parameters for the XK2000 robot have been set:

1. The XK2000 should at no time be operated in zero g environment, doing so can seriously compromise the XK2000's operational effectiveness.

2. Crew members, should refrain from certain: recreational practices in the presence of the XK2000 while there is a risk of encountering a zero g environment.

Note:
Failure to comply with the above will seriously compromise the fabric of the unit's dermal component, causing the chemical bonds of a constituent of that component to break down. Subsequent to component failure the unit's skin will revert to a gelatinous form. While this fault does not represent a hazard to crew members, several units have already failed in this manner and crew members report that the adhesive properties of the consequent gelatinous mass are such that it will adhere to human skin with a bond of indeterminate but substantial strength. This bond can not be safely broken until the skin's decomposition is complete, a process that takes approximately four days. This failure is accompanied by a strong odour, similar to that of decomposing herring.

ITEM 10 XK KIPPER

The following directive has been issued by the Space Patrol working practices committee:

1. The use of the, Term, "XK Kipper" in relation to crew members...