The Unaimed Arrow Never Misses

New Year's limbo

2011-12-29T21:51:00.000-08:00

Until today, I always assumed the holidays promptly ended after Christmas. Uncle Mickey informed me that people are traveling into the city for the Christmas break (I assume because they couldn't get away until now). This may explain the stop-and-go traffic coming back into the city. Mom had trouble with traffic on her trip back, too; Tuesdays have a special bus schedule because of all the old people going to matinees.

Mom's trip was horrid, which i no surprise since she was hell-bent on being miserable. I don't feel like delving into that again, but I suppose I might want to write it down for posterity. To summarize, she didn't get the back pay that she wanted, possibly because Principle Litt didn't sign off on it. No surprise given how he's had it in for mom ever since she dragged him to the hearing. Characteristically, I predicted doom and gloom on that topic. I'm usually correct. But people capitalize on my poor memory!

My visit was perfunctory but nice. For one thing, we weren't staying in a motel but a hotel: The Holiday Inn. (They changed their logo to a green "H". I think the green floodlights are an odd signature for their buildings.)

Predictably, I got there late. You see, the super posted a notice that they'd be by that day to check the wiring. Mom interpreted this for the worst, again. She thought the super would just let himself in and root through the messy apartment. Of course, when he finally came, I opened the door and had to catch him from sprinting in the opposite direction down the hall. They didn't care. He just checked the fusebox for an instant and booked. Mom made me remain at the house until she got back at around 1:00. I guessed I would arrive at 6:00, which turned out to be a lucky guess.

Well, anyway. Not to drag out the details. I had a good time with Mick and Cathy. Lee and my mom apparently got an argument, though mom denied that she "yelled", as Lee claims. "I don't even like McCain!" Mom did confess to some bubbling animosity toward Lee and, generally speaking, their childhood in Tom's River. She was also stressed out about the back pay, the super, and her failed life. Watching the Mark Twain Awards celebrating Meryl Streep did her mood no favors. Finally, she ended up grinding her teeth again in her sleep, leaving her with a toothache and another crown in her future, maybe. What a wreck of a woman.

Anyway, Lee talked at length about TV, which is why I think we three tried to steer the conversation away from anything television related. On any other subject, Lee was at sea, so I felt a little self-conscious about that. We talked for a few hours about Ohio Schools, which are a lot worse than they reported to mom. Apparently, a good deal of Columbus High students are heroin fiends and car thieves. The city is a drug capital. All of this materialized with the last year. A few rednecks threatened Uncle Mickey ("We know where you live") but he just smiled blithely at them ans replied, "You and what army?", which spooked them off. They can't tell anybody when they're planning to leave town, lest somebody leak the information to a kid and he robs their house.

I must say that I was literally dizzied by the amount of space in my room, and in particular bathroom. I've been living here too long. Sad when a chain hotel bathroom makes the phrase "how the other half lives" pop in your head.

I watched cable until about 4:00 in the morning. There was nothing on during prime time (except SVU, where they broke the news about Stabler leaving the show, finally), so I watched some Rizzoli & Isles (not bad), Chelsea lately, then The Postman. Which is just as terrible as they say. It started out fairly well, but skipped it's logical conclusion and just kept grinding on for hours. Also saw Kiss of the Dragon, Shoot Em' Up (very good), and a couple episodes of Justified. Network TV is really pathetic in comparison. Sigh.

I had my heart set on IHOP, but I think Mickey was averse to the idea because his cholesterol has gotten worse. So we went to some IHOP-lite place called...uhh, I forget the name. Begins with "P". It was pretty good. I noticed a tendency in myself to talk very rapidly and without much cohesion. No wonder I'm so poorly understood. Must make note to look up tips on public speaking and delivering jokes.

Mom wasn't as depressed when I got home as I expected. Tonight, she brought up the food stamp application again, and seemed more open to the idea of just mailing it. I got furious, as I always do on the s subject. I acted petulant and whiny, and fumed at all the pornography I couldn't buy because my Christmas money is all earmarked for other expenses, including those incurred by not getting food stamps. It's a mess. Tomorrow I have to set up an appointment to meet with them; if I can't get one soon, I'll just mail the fucking thing. Then I have to deposit some cash and get a new ATM card to replace the revoked one (my balance was too low for an extended period).

Kerri wants me to come over for New Year's. I feel guilty about spend the cash (ironically, on friends). Also, I feel I owe Julia for her money and getting me an internship. Kerri is unhappy. Frankie is busting her balls for trying to date his friend. We agree he makes her problems his own, usually for no reason at all. I decided that Frankie is so used to showing contempt for the Braiotta women that the mask has become hammered on, and now everything Kerri does annoys him. I'd like to be there to back her up in front of Frankie's friends at their party, but I hate going up there. And I just got back from a big trip already.

Tomorrow I go back to work. I already dislike Christina. I suspect she looks down on me, and that makes me resent her. Also, that office doesn't need more help. They're overcrowded as it is. She doesn't need the work experience any more, so why can't she fuck off? I may mention it.

2011-11-12T23:12:00.000-08:00

Stuffy nose at 20 am. Nasal spray would be good.

Long-awaited dinner at Ray and Juli's place. We're invited twice this month, once for per-Thanksgiving and again for Thanksgiving realsies. I was determined to be on my best behavior, but mom and I had trouble right out of the gate.

The weekend train was more fucked than usual. We ended up taking three train (not counting the shuttle), including one ride with a smell Asian woman and a fat dude listening to gospel and singing non-stop in that lazy, raspy, monotonous voice of his. R&B never fails to make my blood boil. Eventually I realized I had jumped to conclusions with regard to the genre, but I was no less miserable for it. Finally I gave up and switched cars. Mom stayed behind until the next station, whereupon we board yet another train.

So I was pretty disheartened by now. When we emerged in CPW, mom asked how her hair/outfit looked, and I gave her a frank "meh." Then she asked for me to take a picture, another peeve of mine. I snottily snapped a pic before she could arrange her face. Naturally, she was out of photos. So I got the riot act.

The visit became in its usual orderly, dull way. I takes a long time to wind these people up. For the first hour or so, I'm bored to death whle Ray and Steve watch a B-grade horror flick, then the original Thing, then Meatballs. I've made a resolution not to engage my cousins in conversation until addressed. They stare lifelessly at the screen, and I sink into frustration as my mom babbles on and on about the usual headaches; the lawyer, Mr. Litt. I'm just now reminded of the passage from Gore Vidal's Hollywood, in which Mrs. Harding reads "with joy" her endless list of ailments. Like the Duchess, my mother has "earned" the right to obsess over the many slights and wrongs she's suffered along the way.

Unfortunately, it grinds any party to a halt, and since she's my companion, I feel it reflects badly on me. So she refuses to shut up. Dinner starts. Things finally pick up, though mom keeps redirecting the conversation to her favorite topic -- herself. I suffer through this until dessert, and I'm finally beginning to enjoy myself as Steve and I talk movies. Mom does not enjoy this kind of "surface-y" talk. That was her phrase on the way home. She is not satisfied to talk about anything but herself.

I should mention at this point that before we left for Julia's, I flat-out told mom not to talk about me at the table as if I wasn't there. This is invariably the cause of a public argument. Needless to say, she broke her word. She hates it whenever I engage in the same thing. Anyway, the topic turned to (what else?) my joblessness. I can't defend myself on the matter and so don't try, but I'd rather no dwell on it in the first place. Julia helpfully suggests I volunteer for the Central Park Conservancy (she pitched the same thing to Steve). The thought of picking up garbage doesn't fill me with pride. I tell her I'll look into it. Probably sensing my lie, both women continue to sell me on the joys of the Central Park Conservancy. I glare at mom to cut it out. She asks, pointedly of course, "Are you glaring at me?" Subtle. "Yeah," I say flatly.

This triggers a full meltdown. I haven't seen this kind of breakdown outside of the apartment. She storms into the bathroom, protesting that she didn't do anything wrong (as if that were the point). I lean back and await the fireworks. It turned out to be worse than I expected. She comes out, sits next to Ray on the couch, and proceeds to talk his ear off about how ignorant and unmotivated I am, and how I appreciate nothing she does for me. I mean literally spitting fire. Ray is unmoved and shrugs it off as asserting my independence. Not the best answer.

I get annoyed with this pretty quickly, and I repeatedly call her over to talk this out. Truthfully, my tone is condescending but how else can one talk to Susan when she's in full flow? Of course, I'm wasting my breath. It's clear that I made multiple missteps before we even arrived. I slept until noon, insulted her appearance and hair, ruined her picture, was sullen and unpleasant -- which is itself a cause of grief. I have concluded that mom wants be to be motivated, optimistic, and happy. Or at least seem to be all those things.

Anyway. She finally came back over to the table, and it was clear she had lost her mind. She was burning up (I touched her arm), her hands kept twitching, and she launched into a loud tirade. The Luhrs surprised me by laughing it off and trying to add levity to the situation. I wonder if they were being good hosts, or are used to these sorts of fireworks. In any case, mom was petulant and scornful and so underserving of sympathy at this point. Ray shut his eyes in deep concentration and gave her one of his voodoo massages, then suggested that everyone has it rough in the recession. Mom, as she's getting the massage, fires back, "Have you been homeless, Ray?"

He also made some unwise allusions to her weight, and suggested yoga or something. I kept giving her the "look at the clock" eye movement signal, but she didn't pick up on it.

She raile don like this for about a half hour or more. I finally told her to stop pissing all over Ray's pep talk. She didn't want moral support, she wanted to bitch. Just like anytime she's taken out for a nice meal. If it's not about Bob, or John Lyons, it's her boss. Having shut her up for a moment, I blatantly said, "Well, we'd better be going" or some such statement. It took another fifteen minutes for mom to smooth things over with the Luhrs, which in her mind was a constructive exercise but to my ears was yet more bitching.

I was dead-eyed and silent until I got my metrocard. Had we gotten into another argument, I would have had to walk back on foot, as I had no cash. Otherwise, I would probably have gotten up and left the apartment in mid-rant. The mystifying thing is mom prided herself on showing her "real" self and is content that Julia accepts her for "who [she] is." She ought to be embarrassed. I have decided that my mother is occasionally out of her senses, and I will not accompany her to dinner ever again. Consequences be damned. I don't need anyone to schmooze with.

I was about to say I don't need anyone (Actually, I did earlier tonight). Clearly, I need my mother as I can't support myself. I hate this.

Doom and gloom. The apartment is as bad as it ever was. I can't stand living her with her. We can barely speak to each other without an argument now. She vacillates between resentment and denial, and looks like a hassock with that flabby face of hers. I despise her for what she allowed me to do to her. I see no way out. I actually wondered if she would jump in front of a train on the way home, or whether she'd have to be committed.

Hopefully I won't soon be in the position of standing at her deathbed considering all the ways I've single-handedly ruined her life.

Even so, she is pretty dense. She admitted it after I caleld her dense under my breath this morning. I cowardly (but wisely) claimed I was talking to the cat. She probably didn't buy it.

Anyway. I shan't be there on Thanksgiving. I suspect the sisters will be there, too, since they aren't going up north to visit Cousin Whoever this year. No great loss. I have nothing to show for myself and so don't particularly want to be seen by anyone.

Insomnia

2011-02-12T03:37:00.000-08:00

So for the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm having trouble getting to sleep.

I dislike nighttime int his apartment. It's claustrophobic, noisy, and, and the whole city is humming. There is no sensation of rest. And then there is the 'inner demons' thing which is more visible in the absence of light.

Saw the trailer for Atlus Shrugged. Put me in a bad mood. I like to think of myself as mature enough not to be an alarmist. Even so, I've often thought of what would happen to our entertainment industry int he US in the face of a libertarian takeover. Doubtless, not much would change. Leno would weather it easily. Maybe SNL would go off the air. Actually, I would applaud that.

There have been some casual strikes against liberal Hollywood in the preceding decade. If this trilogy goes of without a hitch (and it probably won't), it could be the death knell. More likely, it will be a mild success that merely whittles away at Hollywood, rather than diverting its influence entirely.That's what I'm talking about, the alarmist. I feel terribly uncool identifying as a liberal democrat (which I am, rightly or wrongly; it was prescribed to me.) -- not because I believe in Objectivist principles, but because I can sense the rumblings of change. I'm sure that everyone can, but it's not polite to talk about it. Liberalism is going to be a faint memory in the comic decades. Conservatives always have the better arguments, even if they're technically not correct.

I am not a person who 'thinks'. Deep thought is not in my repertoire. When it comes to politics, I memorize data transcribed by bothers, which is no better than being a Republican. I don't have the faculties to puzzle through an issue or determine the flaws in reasoning. I bring this up only because lately, I've been too preoccupied with politics. I find myself resenting the non-stop public radio programs that mom listens to. What does she care about rioting Egyptians? She says it could be a precursor to what will happen here. In the past, she's used the old argument of learning what 'the enemy' is thinking. Once, in a lucid moment, she confessed to enjoying the sad tales of others to take the spotlight off her own misery. Ah, the light is finally shed. But the radio still annoys me. I still find it more tolerable than any of Obama's saccharine, empty rhetoric.

The hard part is that mom doesn't even like to listen tome discuss politics. Actually she doesn't like to listen to anyone about anything. I hear her on the phone with her tiny handful of friends, and she's yammering on forever about her abusive past, her old boyfriends, her evil boss, her lottery ticket fantasies. When we go out to dinner, mom gets a few glasses of wine in her and engages in a hippie monologue about politics and how Bush is a meanie-head.

If I'm lucky, mom will zone out immediately whenever I talk about these things. Other times, she'll snap at me about how she has a headache. As if she ever doesn't have one. We're already essentially a married couple at this point, so the metaphor is apt: it's like a Jewish women begging off her husband for sex. "I'M IN PAIN." is my mother's mantra. She often quotes it to thin air, ad nauseum. Whining is whining, whether it's partly-justified or not.

Meanwhile, I'm identifying with the Objectvist guilt of a full-blown 'moocher'. This is, I think, why the ideology bothers me so much. It's like an atheist obsessing over going to Hell. When you get down to it, I have no trade. I have no conception of how to acquire one. Mom is falling apart at the seams; worse, she's in denial about most of it. I can sense the ultimate doom approaching, but lacking the inspiration to counter it.

Really. What am I supposed to do?

No one will hire me. To be perfectly frank, I wouldn't hire myself. That leaves entrepreneurial pursuits. The fly in that particularly ointment is: I don't have any talents. My drawing ability are serviceable if you want to send someone a greeting card, but mostly it's been overblown by friends and neighbors. I am now stuck with a near-useless degree due to the mistaken belief that I have the skill or discipline to make it as some sort of designer.

I would like to pull a rabbit out of a hat. Make some money, move out of this shithole, never return to New York City as long as I live. I'm weary of being trapped here, watching mom's health deteriorate while knowing it's directly caused by my own lifelong sloth.

And worst of all, I have no one to turn to for even a modicum of advice. Actually, even if I did, most of the advice would be out-of-date seeing as I've exhausted most of my chances to lead a comfortable life.

I have no illusions about people; nobody (least of all me) is interested in getting bogged down by someone else's problems. My only advisor is me -- hardly useful -- and my mother, who always has ingeniously-bad advice to share. When we argue, which is often, she'll often accuse me of channeling my father, an abusive Iranian bus driver who thought she was dumber than dirt. Sometimes, I think he wasn't too far off the mark. The problem with it is that it leaves me in the position of identifying with my wifebeating dad, and mom possessing the infuriatingly-infallible logic of a blissful idiot.

Then again, I'm not a wellspring of intelligence. Once again, we're back to hating what one recognizes in oneself.

Teacher layoffs. There goes my meal ticke--erm, I mean dear mother

2011-01-30T19:49:00.000-08:00

So, the not-entirely-unexpected happened. Gov. Cuomo is moving for education cuts. Specifically, teachers employed within the last 5 years may be fired. I love a slow-motion catastrophe.

Mom' is just a hair outside of that demographic, but there is nothing to discourage them from moving the cut-off line up a notch.

I think it's likely that mom will be laid off soon. She is tenured, which is anathema. She works for a 30-year old man who got the job through family connections, and has made no secret about his disdain for her.

On the upside, mom claims she can find employment as a substitute or perhaps a tutor. Though she would be forced to hold two jobs to make the rent. Most of her paycheck goes toward storage fees -- one unit in Westchester, and a vastly smaller (yet less affordable) unit here in the neighborhood -- and my student loan payments ($50 per month).

The storage fees are simply an insurmountable problem. I've tried convincing her to throw some of her stuff out, as most of it is junk, but she's doesn't want to hear about it. So we pay the fees.

I think mom is frustrated at having to start over. She lost most of her belongings when she left my father, and she has just never come to terms with that. Nary a day goes by without mom mentioning some vinyl records or books she lost. I've heard that all women have nesting instincts of a sort, but hers has kicked into overdrive. That, and she is pulling her hair out over her lack of space, the state of the apartment, and the deterioration of her beauty and health due to age.

But enough of that. My mother has her mood swing just like everybody.

So here I am, soaking up as much literature on economics and statism as I can on the internet, (would you believe my browser marks "internet" as a typo?) and achieving essentially nothing. What am I going to do with this, enter a debate? Stocks will rise and fall, utilities and transportation systems may collapse, people are no damn good. But none of this is pertinent until it directly affects me. What happens to the bottom 10% of state employees is no concern of mine. What is a concern is getting a job for myself.

It's very liberating and tad intellectually lazy to divorce oneself entirely from current events. But I'd rather not end up like one of those old Communists in the 1960s, tirelessly giving the same old tired speeches to anyone within earshot, none of whom care to argue because his arguments are so old that the counter-arguments have been forgotten. I'm not going to be the last liberal democrat at a party who annoys everyone. If the country is taking a hard turn toward laissez-faire libertarianism, it's not a matter for me to wring my hands over. The cynical side of me suspects that the majority of individuals have no control over their political fate. It's a giant tide which sometimes pushes against you, and other times bolsters your movements. But at no time are you ever in command of the ocean.

Assessment time: I am no closer to getting a job than I was six years ago. Mom has a few safety nets prepared, but they won't last. No one in my family will take me in, on the sensible grounds that I have never contributed anything in my life. Fleeing to Australia is out of the cards. I have a sizable loan to pay off and a duty to dig my mother out of credit debt, most of it incurred while supporting me. Any air castles I had about mobility or becoming a graphic artist are shot, most likely forever. I am the latest failure in a two-generational line of complete failures. I won't have children, so that's the end of my genetic line. If I'm lucky, I won't die impoverished and out on the street in New York, the last place on Earth I ever wanted to live or even visit.

Diary of a Freeloader

2011-01-22T19:41:00.001-08:00

Unemployed.

I believe that there comes a certain point in a person's life when you're condemned to an existence of scraping out a living through a string of dead-end jobs. Often you will be reminded by someone that people with much fewer advantages then yourself have become a success, like Whoopi Goldberg or Tyler Perry. This is supposed to be a motivator?

I envy most of my ex-classmates from college. Even the irritating, hipster film student. They all had a goal and focused on it like a laser. I never had a desire to do anything, and despite a handful of paltry interests, not enough talent to consider pursuing any of them as a career.

Right now, mom is buzzing around the apartment, rambling incoherently about all the work she has to do, or the amount of pain she's in. Sometimes, in a weak moment, I confide in her about my work worries. What ensues is a naive sermon about how "if you can't be stopped, you won't be stopped" and a few celebrity anecdotes. A favorite story of hers is the one about going to school and paying for it all by herself. One is tempted to fall back on the old "that was then, this is a recession" argument. But really, when you shoot yourself in the foot as much as I have, you can't reasonably do much besides sit and suffer the onslaught of trite advice.

She is a fountain of wrong facts. She prattles on about my "talents" (largely shit), my beauty (Telling me to consider a career in modeling), by intelligence (sub-par at the very best), my expertise in politics (mostly parroting whatever I've read from Chomsky).

There probably is no secret to being successful. There is, however, an expiration date on one's prospects.

It occurred to me last week that I have made absolutely no contribution to anyone, or anything. Part of it is due to my own hedonistic nature. But I never had any desires or goals for myself. I just naturally assumed that I would stumble into a well-paying job. Later, once I came to term with my self-loathing, I naturally assumed I would end up on the street, and eventually jump off a roof somewhere.

Then again, I also assumed I would end up a 30 year-old virgin. Luckily, I passed that hurdle last year. But again, it was through no effort of my own. I didn't even lift a finger; It was consolatory sex. She came all the way up here from Virginia, footed the bill for a hostel, paid for meals, all to spend a weekend with me. Afterward, even I was mildly surprised at my blissful ignorance about other people's sacrifices and needs. I didn't even finish my breakfast at IHOP (complimentary of my date, again.) It didn't even occur to me how thoughtless it was until I spoke to her facebook that following week.

She shrugs off these quirks and inadequacies of mine. I don't.

A few days ago I called her up. I don't do it often; it's impossible to disguise my total lack of a life. She mentioned that she may come to see me again, at considerable expense, since I "still haven't gotten [my] shit together." Said in jest, obviously.

(Not laughing)

I don't know where to go from here. I feel like an underdeveloped human being, with nowhere to turn for a honest reflection of myself. We are reflected in the people we know; I am largely friendless, walling myself off in this cramped apartment with nothing to do all day.

The trek ahead is long, and I don't have the energy to even begin. It's obvious what I have to do to repair my life, but I lack the will. I want to sleep all day and be left alone.

First, I'm expected to hit the pavement and look for volunteer work. I should study my lingual skills in my free time. Keep walking into random retail stores asking for a job application. Endure the narrowed eyes of the manager as they stare at my largely-blank work history.

I am almost 26. Or maybe I am 26 already. I don't keep track anymore.

I'm not afraid of getting old, but I know that life enjoys taking things away from you. Your health, your vitality, your possessions. I am not a self-sufficient person. If the recession deepens, I'm fucked. Mom can't afford this apartment as it it. No one would take me (or her) in. She entertains the possibility that our magnanimous Aunt Lee would let me shack up in her house, but I know Lee too well for that. We're completely identical.

Except she's less cute and still a virgin.

No, Aunt Lee would bitch and moan about us barging in, mooching off and violating her space. To be fair, though, I don't have a counter-argument.

We all have a desire to be great in some way, regardless of how we act. Even the slackers like me who just want to live comfortably and get laid on a regular basis. That's one of the grim realities of living with New Yorkers; these people have grit in them. Living among them is particularly shameful when you're as unmotivated and parasitic as I am.

So what's new. Obviously, nothing. I take solace in my dvd rentals. I'm alternating between Babylon Five, Doctor who and Farscape. Mom likes the Doctor Who episodes, but lacks a taste for sci-fi generally. As for me, I don't know why I watch so much of it. I don't particularly like speculative fiction (what a gay-sounding term.) I do like dorky action heroes who operate in a fantasy realm. I guess I've always identified with that type of self-image. In fact, that's been my dream job all my life. Time Cop.

The deadened silence of this place makes you want to collapse in bed.

Ed's favorite video game soundtracks - Four is Death

2010-12-31T20:28:00.000-08:00

It's noo yeerz.

I had a decent time at Mom's cousin's place. Julia is a sweet-natured woman who isn't very worldly. Her husband is a Christian fanatic and conspiracy nut, but is disarmingly likable. Their son Steve is living in their co-op on the upper west side. He's in his thirties but still behaves like he's my age. So we get along well enough. He's even more socially stilted then myself.

I don't like their daughters. Part of it is my dislike of successful people. The eldest is a city planner and little sis gives surveys to people over the phone. But they dominate the conversation every time I'm with them. They talk over everybody, swap inside jokes, and cackle like madwomen. I've made a point not to attend any more dinners with them.

I think I may have introduced Ray and Steve to Back to the Future II, because they were watching it at my suggestion on their satellite cable.

I haven't been sleeping well. The eye strain from the laptop doesn't go away, because I haven't fully recharged myself.

So what's new. We are still waffling on our alleged poverty. Mom sold some jewelry, never a good sign. I'm unemployable, or at least the possibility of employment is so remote that it won't come in time to solve our financial woes. I will hereby devote every free second to job hunting, so as not to become one of those guys "on the couch".

I admire forward-thinking and proactive behavior in others. It's time to incorporate some of that.

I wish I could convince mom to do likewise, but she just bites my head off whenever I broach the topic. Since she's a woman, she'd go mad without her creature comforts. Canceling our cable service/netflix rentals or throwing out her old furniture is out of the question, In fact, it is not even a question. It's not even a thought.

Enough of that.

This is a special Survival Horror edition. Bring on the noise.

Silent Hill (PSX) is the black sheep of the franchise. Undeservedly so, I might add. I don't really get the hate. Even Yahtzee dismissed it as virtually non-canon.

Sure, it made some narrative mistakes, like the whole cultist thing.

But it's heads and shoulders above Silent Hill 3 in terms of horror and overall quality. 3 remains a fan favorite mostly, I suspect, due to the emo teen protagonist Heather.

This is of course backwards logic, as 3 is a direct sequel to the original game. The cult is back, Heather is the daughter of SH1's Harry, and the plot is mostly indecipherable unless you've played the first.

Silent Hill 3 is the first game in the series that's bereft of ideas. It's not the last, alas.

Likewise, the soundtrack isn't any great shakes, either. Silent Hill is not about instrumentals. The bluesy rock music in Silent Hill 2 isn't memorable; it's the industrial music stings that gamers remember. SH3's soundtrack is borderline obnoxious, with its moody J-Pop.

End of Small Sanctuary - That's not to say 3 didn't have it's good points. I like the opening introduction to Heather. It's almost Lynchian in eeriness, because we're dropped into a public setting which is teeming with people, but we don't see them.

As with SH2, the opening theme is simultaneously upbeat (as the main character hasn't yet penetrated into the hellish Otherworld) and menacing.

White Noiz ~ Rest Room Theme - The theme which plays when we first meet James Sunderland, examining his face in the mirror of a rest area bathroom.

Dead End ~ Bachman Road Alley - Silent Hill, as I've discussed, receives very little credit for what it achieved. Shallow characterization and plot aside, the intro is one of the most brilliant sequences in the history of gaming, and a flawless introduction to Silent Hill's mythology as a whole. Harry chases a phantom of his daughter into an alley. A familiar siren. Bereft of a light, Harry takes out his cigarette lighter. A fuckton of creepy camera angles. The alleyway slowly transitions into the Otherworld, and what follows next is a primer on everything SH virgins need to know.

Major Surgery ~ Alchemilla Hospital Theme #4 - Again, it is difficult to convey the genius of this sequence without an approiate video. The hospital starts out harmless enough, with enough musical stings to hint that there is something lurking, somewhere, just in the horizon and out of reach.

Harry eventually makes it to the 4th floor, which isn't indicated on the map. It's here where we enter into the now-classic shout out to Jacob's Ladder, with the bloody catwalk floors and barred windows blocking any hope of escape. I will always remember my first experience watching a friend play through the Otherworld Hospital. This was imagery unlike any I'd ever seen. The innards of the building are raw and covered in gore, as if the walls were flesh, and reacted to being burned just as a living being would. As you play through the game, this becomes a incredible bit of foreshadowing.

Follow The Path - An understated theme which plays when Dahlia is instructing Harry. As such this is more or less her theme song.

The above video doesn't contain a song, per se. I just like the musical sting when Kaufmann is first seen in the doorway. ^_^

So, as you can see, I love this game to pieces.

Ed's favorite video game soundtracks - 3rd Strike

2010-12-27T17:44:00.000-08:00

SNOWMAGEDDON.

So, the family reunion is off. The roads are so bad in New Jersey that it took my aunt & uncle an hour just to cross to the other side of a road.

On a selfish note, this means I don't have to draw them up a card by tomorrow morning. Or endure a bus ride to Tom's River, neighbor to Seaside Heights of Jersey Shore fame. A resort town in the off-season, with nothing to do but freeze your balls off. Or eat at IHOP.

It's the biggest blizzard of my lifetime. In Virginia we had about three snowstorms per year, but the wind wasn't as fierce. I tried walking to Park Slope (my usual route), got as far as Grand Army Plaza, and was turned away by the hurricane force winds mixed with the sulfuric acid-sensation of snow being blown in your face. Nothing less than a ski mask and sunglasses would have spared me.

...And boots. I should buy some.

So here we are. Mom has now watched and re-watched The Scarlet Pimpernel three times. Much confusion over whether it was Louis XIV or XVI who is depicted in the movie as a blond woobie, being kept prisoner by the evil French Revolutionaries and force-fed Cognac. Actually, I checked, he is Louis XVII.

..Maybe.

I'm replaying Skies of Arcadia for possibly the seventh time, on account of my other consoles either being broken or in storage somewhere.

On with the music.

GRANDIA II

I played Grandia II before its predecessor, on account of it being one of two worthwhile RPGs on the poor Dreamcast. In retrospect, it's not quite as good as the first game -- dodgy graphics and awful character models, made even worse in the PS2 port, which deigned to give the characters noses. But it had an all-star VA lineup (as penitence for Grandia 1's deliciously cheesy voice-acting?), and an outstanding soundtrack.

Unfortunately, the plot is a rehash of the stock JRPG "God is evil" trope , complete with an evil Catholic church. The most irritating character, pre-pubescent kid with a voice like Ash Ketchum, leaves the party somewhere in the game's middle. But it's a tease. The game has the effrontery to kill off the coolest character by far, and then re-introduce the kid into the party permanently. Valmar, the Eldritch abomination supervillain and Satan proxy, is basically a retread of Gaia from Grandia 1. In the same vein, Pope Zera behaves a little too similarly to General Baal. One new element which is added to the mix is Melfice, the main hero's evil brother, and the latest in a long line of Sephiroth imitators. The only thing salavaging him as a villain is John Cygan's epic VA talents (DANCE WITH ME, BROTHER!). Otherwise, Melfice is hastily introduced into the story, makes two brief appearances and is killed off, having made no impact on the overall plot.

But, when all is said and done, it's still a story about Leonardo saving the world with Felicia Hardy, who is possessed by Ariel, along with his pet parrot Roy Campbell.

If nothing else, Jodie Benson's battle quotes are worth a playthrough.

II builds on the instrumentations of the original game, while adding more vocals. This is seen right off the bat with "A Deus" (referenced to in-game as the Song of Light, which Elena sings), which plays over the title screen. It's actually a Portugese song with the lyric sung in Japanese, though I can't figure out who the vocalist is.

The Broken Seal - Actually encompasses a pair of themes. It begins with the titular broken seals: these are the pieces of Valmar that were sealed away in spherical prisons by Granas, Valmar's rival and the game's "God".

At 1:58, it winds down into what can be called Selene's theme. She is a great villain who, like most characters in the game, is under-utilized. A homicidal priestess flanked by heavily armored "Cathedral Knights", she goes from village to village "purifying" people who are accused to having contact with Valmar. As the hero Ryudo points out, it's doubtful that Selene is packing soap and suds under that robe, so this must be purification by fire.

The violin perfectly captures her religious zealotry and borderline psychopathy. What makes the first encounter with Selene so brilliant is that your party happens to get scooped up in one of Selene's witch hunts, forbidden from leaving the village. More on that below; it's surely one of the most brilliant and chilling arcs I've ever played.

Dangerous Zone - "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

Battle Music - Aaaand the guitar is back. What is this supposed to be, Sonic Adventure 3?

It's a great battle theme, but goes a bit too far. Noriyuki Iwadare is clearly trying to outdo himself here; but since this is a song you'll be hearing constantly, it's hyperkinetic sound is a bit over the top.

Granas Sanctuary - One thing the game pulls off splendidly is its oppressive atmosphere. We begin at what is probbly the cusp of the apocolpyse, with the devil reviving himself piece-by-piece. Unless you've never played a JRPG in your entire life, you can probably guess that the church is being less than forthcoming about things. Nevertheless, one of the lead characters is a nun, and at the start of the game, your sole source of support is the church.

In each town you'll visit, you'll find a Church of Granas, and each visit is just as dark and filled with dread as the last. The priests, who know better than anyone how utterly boned the human race is at the moment, will brief you on whatever curse is plaguing their respective city.

Ageel ~ Cursed Land - Nothing to say, really. It's just a mellow theme with good rhythm. The Agear quest is Ryudo's first task to complete, and by far the most generic; explore the local cave. It's reminiscent of pretty much any old-school JRPG you can think of.

It's also where you recruit Roan. -___-

Come On, Let's Travel - This plays in the grassland and mountain areas. Of all the areas Grandia II, these smack the most of the original, right down to the can-do, plucky music.

Commercial Town Liligue ~ Apparent Prosperity - Liligue is a high-tech city ruled by a fat pig of a merchant -- the sole black man in the entire game, as casually racist chance would have it! The town is suffering a singular curse: everybody has lost their sense of taste. This is actually more catastrophic than it sounds, since all food makes the citizens gag, and they're gradually wasting away. The merchant, however, is eating more heartily than ever. It turns out he's possessed by the Tongue of Valmar (??), having been made susceptible by his inner greed. The possessed villains only get creepier from here...

The Garden of Dreams ~ The Mysterious Girl: We begin in the snowfields of Mirumu, having gotten stranded when the rope tram carrying our heroes suddenly snaps. Ryudo and the others stumble upon an inexplicable sunny garden, ruled over by a little blind girl with a scar on her forehead. Following this surreal experience (hallucination?), we enter...

A Good Unknown Anxiety ~ Nightmare Village Mirumu - Mirumu, where the townsfolk are falling into a permanent sleep one-by-one. As 'science' would tell us, if you stay asleep for too long, your body atrophies and you eventually become brain-dead. Yes, this is no magical Prince Charming sleep. Eventually, it is revealed that the little blind girl from the garden lives here, too, and is summoning the souls of the villagers to be playmates in her garden. And hallelujah, she's regained her eyesight. You can probably see where this is going.

Wait till her forehead opens up. You'll shit bricks.

Not only is it a nice inversion having the possessed victim be an innocent (In Breath of Fire II, for instance, the possessed characters were all guilty of one deadly sin or another.) , but the plot only gets freakier from there. The Eye of Valmar enters Ryudo's dreams, tormenting him in an unsettling dream sequence. Then Selene and her religious flunkies show up with lit torches, offering their "help".

But back to the music. I think the theme communicates what I've said pretty well. There is a genuine sense of urgency in saving this village before the clock runs down, and the villagers are either rendered comatose or fried alive (or both). In short:

Fuck Mirumu. I'm never going back.

The Country of Laws Santhaim ~ Pious Adepts - St. Heim Papal State, the stomping grounds of Pope Zera and the Granas religion. It's a jaunty, carefree song. Not one of the best, but I enjoy it nevertheless.

Skye's Reminiscence - This is where we learn all about Ryudo's Tragic Past. Hell, I've lived a worse sob story than this dude has. (But I don't let it color my impression of this fine composition.)

Purification of Darkness ~ Battle With the Parts - As the title says, this plays during the battle with Valmar's schlong. Or whatever it is. These are all very lengthy battles in and of themselves. Grandia II's battle system is pretty much identical to the original, save one respect - he boss fights are a tad more epic. It takes a while to whittle these fuckers down.

Ed's favorite video game soundtracks - part deux

2010-12-22T19:22:00.000-08:00

First, a word from Mr. Jeff Goldblum:

And to think, I thought he'd hit bottom when he filmed that in 1999.

That's unkind. Everyone has their own ebbs and flows. It's not as embarrassing as when Chris Noth rejoined Law & Order after...what? A 10-year hiatus? And once he was back on his feet, he left again. And look at him now.

(erm...)

Side note: I liked his first season on Criminal Intent. He was partnered with that MILF, Anabella Sciorra, and things were crackling. And then she left....no doubt due to the crippling boredom that is a police procedural. I don't normally like Italian women, but dayum.

Back on track, now.

Oh, hey! I just heard this yesterday. It's a trance remix of "Eyes On Me"

I wouldn't recommend anyone look up the engrish-y lyrics if they hadn't played FFVIII. The song sounds a lot better if it's left unintelligible.

GRANDIA

From what I can ascertain, the first two Grandia games are the only ones worth playing. I haven't tried the later games myself, though with a title like Grandia Xtreme you can't really fault me for that.

Grandia is old-school in a similar sense to Dragon Warrior, though not as reliant on grinding and dungeon-crawling. The perspective is strictly an isometric overhead view, and the "dungeon" areas are expansive. It's a given that you will get lost, regardless of the onscreen compass or the extent of your own sense of direction. In one sense, it's quite unique because of all the treasure and gear that is honeycombed throughout the level. Since the plot of Grandia (especially the first) revolves around a great exploration into the unknown, I think the giant maps lend a sense of chartering territory. On the other hand, the battles can get tedious.

But that's a game review. I don't even know why I went on that tangent.

When discussing the soundtrack, you have to emphasize the exploration aspect. The first title is simplistic enough; you're a plucky JRPG hero on a great quest to discover new lands. The military is rather clumsily shoehorned in as the baddies. Armies are bad, don'cha know. Technically, it's a linear game, meaning once you cross into a continent there's no going back to old towns. This, of course, heightens the excitement somewhat. But it still falls upon the music to really convey the wonderment and adventure, because otherwise you're just moving a cursor across maps (there is no FF-style world map to poke around in).

Theme of Grandia - A leitmotif you'll be hearing a lot of while playing. It's not bad; I like the guitar strings at 3:18. Every Grandia game has an electric guitar someplace.

The bridge of the song contains the secondary theme of the game, a melancholy violin piece which plays during the pointed emotional scenes. The most notable is Sue's departure from the party. It's a great surprise when she leaves; she stowed away with Justin when he took the steamboat off the first continent, crosesd the End of the World with him, and is the designated healer. She's indispensable. But Sue is also just a little girl, and her health literally starts to deteriorate from the exhaustion of the adventure (a clever inversion of RPG tropes, I might add). Never fear, though, a MacGuffin appears to teleport Sue back to Parm. It can only be used once, meaning it would theoretically take Justin stright to Alent if he wished (and render the rest of the game moot). But Justin donates the last remain generator cube to power the ancient machine, and sends Sue home. It's handled very deftly. In fact, rather than mull over all the ways in which this scene is heartbreaking and cinematc, I'll post it:

Having spent at least 20 game hours away from Parm, hearing those bagpipes again sends a chill down my spine. I love the simple purity of this image. As narrative devices go, it's both heartrending and patently ridiculous. Almost Doctor Who-esque.

If I had to change anything, I would cut the music as soon as Sue disappears, leaving the transporter room deathly quiet for a few seconds. Because that's how it feels to watch Sue leave for good.

Prelude - And here's the bagpipes again. Thankfully, the cities in Grandia are just as dizzyingly massive as the dungeons. The camera circles the town like a buzzard, capturing the various movements of the townsfolk, the steaming grates, the rushing waterways. Basically, unzipping its pants and letting its 32-bit cock roll out onto the table. I used to eat this stuff up as a 90's-era gamer. I love crude, old-school psx graphics. Even speaking from a modern perspective, though, the effect holds up pretty well.

Town of Parm - The town theme to beat all town themes. Even back then, game developers likes to blow their entire budgets on the first half of their product, which is probably why the Parm arc is so memorable. Still, it wasn't 2010 yet, so the rest of the game is still excellent, though not quite as epic.

Lilly's Seagull Resteraunt - Justin's house and default inn for the opening act. Lilly is a retired pirate who now serves food for the locals. She has a low tolerance for bullshit, as Justin learns. I guarantee anyone who played this intentionally made Lilly angry so she would whack Justin over the head with that serving tray one more time.

Grandia is known for its 'dinner' sequences, in which the party members hash out the plants of their next quest while eating at a table. Grandia II handled this bit a lot better than the original, though it's still a memorable component.

Garlyle - The villain theme to beat all villain themes. The soundtrack was composed by Skywalker company, which explains its similarities to "Imperial March". The Garlyle Forces are a persistent army of pricks who are hoarding ancient technology for themselves, and even blockading the rest of humanity from learning about the new world (they have a flying machine, but neglect to tell people that the "End of the World" is a disproven myth). Naturally, their leader is a nutcase with his own agenda, which gives his subordinates a chance to defect. This redeems the Garlyle Forces, showing that they're not a monolithic oppressive force.

Village of Luc - Upon escaping the Garlyle base in a stolen locomotive, the party end sup marking in the middle of the Misty Forest, one of the more aggravating mazes to negotiate around. The crystalline, "ting!" musical sting is another Grandia staple, and shows up a lot more frequently in the sequel's songlist.

Aim For a New World - Ahh, the End of the World. Basically a gigantic fence built out of square bricks, built by an ancient civilization for the sole purpose of being twats. It's actually quite an annoying place to be, as you can't rotate the camera and obnoxious traps are placed everywhere, causing Justin to get smushed Looney Tunes-style beneath boulders. However, it's also game highlight since Justin is the first to scale the thing. This opens up the second half of the game, and a journey into the true unknown.

Assault - Plays onboard General Baal's airship, the Grandeur.

This is longer than I thought. Grandia II will have to wait for next time.

Never feed stray cats

2010-12-22T18:46:00.000-08:00

I don't know what it is with the cats around here. They're just as finicky as indoor cats, meaning they'll gladly starve rather than eat food thats not to their satisfaction. I have it on authority from the local cat lady that these are the most fat-assed, spoiled stray cats within a five-block radius.

More to the point, we're strapped for money. My mother took a hit when the vet charged us $45 for the prednisalone. For the past two weeks, it's been reduced to $15. Supposedly, that was "a mistake". When I was first charged the lower amount, I pointed out this discrepancy to the lady at the front desk. As per usual, she ignored me. Only lately has the front desk started to show some semblance of competence. Accordingly, I can assume the $45 price tag is there to stay.

Well, apparently that was all it took to scuttle mom's bank account. She's been living from dollar to dollar and acting as if it's standard procedure. Last week, my aunt sent us $300. A third of that is earmarked for our bus trip to Tom's River this Christmas, where we held a family reunion last year. This time, I proposed that I just stay home and we pocket the extra $40.

Lying won't do. It's too transparent. Mom is considering telling the truth about my absence.

No way to disguise my lack of a job, though.

It's times like these when my mother catches on to my general ineptitude. It's no cause for excitement; in another week, she'll be her usual, deluded self. But in the meantime, I'm treated to the old, "I thought you'd be working by now" speech.

I postponed my first student loan payment until the 27th of next month. I still need to rustle up $50 in the interim.

Tomorrow, the plan is to visit another temp agency (calling first, so I don't end up at a vacant lot this time). Then apply for work at a health food store, which is waste of time.

It's looking as though January will be down to the wire. Even if I'm optimistic, I won't see any job placements until the middle of the month. Mom has suggested hocking her onyx ring, while I mulled over the usual proposal of selling my House dvds.

What luck that this situation happens to hit us in mid-winter. Soon we'll be behind on the rent, then the storage fees, and of course the omnipresent credit debit.

I sometimes wonder where my stubborn reluctance to enter the wage culture came from. It's not as though capitalism is something new under the sun. People have been learning trades and working to support themselves since the dawn of man.

I suppose the simple answer is I'm a spoiled, inexperienced twat who can't hold a job. I don't say can't find a job, because I have. And then promptly fired. Hence the empty resume.

It occurs to me that I've never had to work. It seems absurd that the only son of a poor single mother could grow up spoiled, I know. But there was never any real danger of being thrown out onto the street, at least not as far back as I can perceive. Now, I'm in New York. This is not my territory. Everyone here knows their shit. In an economic downturn, it's simultaneously the worst and best place to be.

If I'm homeless, I'll hurl myself off a building. I am simply not suited for that kind of bare-knuckled survival. Of course, mom would be homeless, too -- which would be regrettable.

Ooh, look who's jumping to wild conclusions? That's what happens when you're not master of your destiny. Anything seems plausible. And I haven't lifted a finger to better myself in 20 years, so there's no indication of me starting now.

What annoys me is when mom suggests I develop an entrepreneurial spirit. Today she proposed I become a dog walker. And she wonders why I never take her insights seriously.

I wondered aloud how somebody becomes a first-time dog walker. No one would entrust their dog to somebody without experience. Mom answered that perhaps you baby-sit your neighbor's dog for awhile, and eventually you list them as a reference. Sounds plausible.

My style is more sitting back and letting things come to me. I'll make minimal efforts to get the gears moving, but don't expect me to do much in the way of thinking or actual legwork. It's the opposite of my nature.

What is my nature, then? Well, not much. Over the past decade, I've allowed myself to atrophy into a hedonistic, lifeless husk with no personality or aspirations. Where to go from here?

This is another problem with living in the city. It doesn't offer a lot of methods to decompress. Especially in winter. And at night. This apartment is pretty stark at night.

Nighttime brings counsel, though, as they say.

(And by "as they say", I read it in a book.)

That counsel is plain, simple terror.

Lois & Clark

2010-12-20T18:15:00.000-08:00

I bought the first Lois & Clark dvd set as soon as it when on the market, without ever having watched an entire episode.

The reason was: I needed to cleanse the palette after my debilitating time with Smallville.

The most I'd seen of the show was a few seconds of at my babysitter's house. I'm not sure what season it was, but judging by the fact I was in elementary school, it must have been between '93-'94.

How time fun when you're having flies.

So, I heard about the upcoming dvd release on Kryptonsite, then did a little research on L&C fansites. The characterization, humor, and set design of the series seemed a lot more advanced then people now credit it for. Superman-themed TV series all blur together. Lois & Clark was promoted as a steamy show. This reviewer compares the experience of watching it to those old Radio Shack ads with Teri hatcher and Howie Long -- two attractive people flirting in a non-threatening setting. Howie is an eerily exact double for Dean Cain's Clark, as I was later to discover.

L&C is remembered for other, less seemly things. Hardcore DC readers know about the wedding debacle. Casual Superman fans obsess over how the Superboy TV series was prematurely terminated by greedy executives in order to make way for Lois & Clark. Those kinds of feuds never die. Witness the Jungle Emperor vs. Lion King debate (kicking up steam since Confused Matthew's blasting of the decades-old Disney film).

Superboy was the darling of Ilya and Alexander Salkind, two notorious film producers who have never ceased riding the Superman gravy train. The series was campy and generally forgettable. Superboy has recently become a contentious point of litigation between DC Comics and the Shuster family, who were cheated out of their royalties. Thirdly, even comic fans dismiss the 40s-style Superboy -- who battles Lex Luthor as a teenager and swaps Lois Lane's snooping for Lana Lang's snooping -- as a dusty relic of the Silver Age. It's best forgotten.

Smallville came close to revitalizing interest in Superman's early years but, as I've covered, the series fell prey to the exact same trappings: Clark faces his entire rogue's gallery before he ever dons the suit, even killing some of them (Lex included, though he's an ass pull away from a Season 10 cameo). He romances Lois, moves to Metropolis, and even becomes a Daily Planet reporter without so much as wearing glasses. The fans dismiss Smallville as an Elseworld, and advise us to just kick back and enjoy it for what it is. Which wouldn't be a problem if the writing, acting, and special effects weren't utter shit. Image Passions without the tongue-in-cheek self-awareness.

The irony is that despite Lois & Clark's reputation as the big, bullying Goliath to the underdog Superboy, it's far more faithful to the original Richard Donner film in terms of characterization.

Clark: Needs no introduction. This Clark Kent is the closest we've come to a live-action version of John Byrne's post-Crisis Superman, yet distinctive in his own right. Simply put, he's a yuppie. His signature is the tacky ties he wears. Other quirks include his fetish for junk food (he is incapable of gaining weight). The Scully to Lois' Mulder.

Lois: Fiery reporter and take-no-shit feminist. Almost gets killed once (sometimes 2-3 times) per episode. You know the deal: Loves Superman, ignores Clark. Their relationship is ramped up pretty fast, however, to the point where he proposes marriage in Season 2. Lois also evokes the lust of Lex Luthor, as per John Byrne's reboot.

Jimmy I: Mr. Exposition. Played by two actors: the cop from Final Destination 2, and the kid from Child's Play 3. Both are solid in their own right, but Michael Landis looked way too old for a 'cub reporter'. To be fair, by Season 4 Justin Whalin started looking a bit long in the tooth himself.

Jimmy II: The first Jimmy was a street urchin from Brooklyn. Jimmy II is a horny idiot who collects girlfriends like Pokemon cards. For the sake of variety, he and Perry are sometimes thrust into peril instead of Lois.

Perry: The team dad, and greatest Perry White ever. In this version, he's a southern-bred Elvis fanatic. His wife, like Maris, is oft-referred to but never seen. That is until the second-to-last episode of the entire series, when she revealed to be a GILF. Lane Smith grounds the series with some much-needed gravitas and class.

Cat Grant: Formerly Cmdr. Lochley on Babylon 5 -- the much maligned Season 5, anyway. Omnisexual skank who parades around in dresses that look like they got hit by a paint truck. Utterly useless character, phased out during the Season 2 reboot. No offense to Tracey Scoggins, though, she's a decent actress. Huge teeth.

Lex: In another shout-out to the Byrne reboot, Luthor is a beloved philanthropist in this version. Most people can't get past the fact this Luthor has hair. He does wear a bald cap in Season 2, but it is quickly abandoned. Likes to properly ann-un-ci-ate ev-er-ry sen-ten-ence. Falls hard for Lois, eventually becoming her Yandere in Season 3. Not a bad Lex, overall; would've been great to see him in a movie.

The Kents: Pa's still alive in this universe, and he's a whale. On the upside, his voice is pure audio erotica.

Martha is a spunky post-feminist who dabbles in modern art. Clark's parents are constantly flying out to see him on the east coast, raising questions both about their finances and Clark's douchebaggery, since he never offers to fly them there himself. Presumably, the show's producers quickly tired of telephone scenes with the old split-screen effect.

Prankster: Vengeful ex-con who seeks payback on Lois Lane. Played by Bronson Pinchot, which is strange, because a season later we see a villain watching Perfect Strangers on TV. SNAKE, YOU CAN'T DO THAT! Despite his comical nature, he has little in common with his DC counterpart. In Season 4, we're introduced to "Mr. Gadget", who more closely resembles the original Prankster's modus.

Bill Church: Head of Intergang, a crime syndicate which replaces Luthor as the big bad of Season 2. Like Lex, he masquerades as a friendly CEO (owning a store chain that resembles Wall-Mart). Undergoes a Heel Face Turn as the result of his senility, but is usurped by his trophy wife, Mindy.

Bill Church Jr.: Son and heir to Peter Boyle, and later seduced by his new mother-in-law. Convinced by Mindy to overthrow his old man and take over Intergang for himself. This goes about as well as expected. Played by Bruce Campbell, which is the only reason he warrants a mention.

Mindy: An evil nurse who masquerades as a dumb blonde in order to marry Bill Church and take over Intergang. She's never brought to justice.

Tempus: Time-traveling psycho from the future and one of Superman's most frequent enemies, second only to Lex himself. Played with self-referential glee by Lane Davies, an obscure soap actor. His catchphrase is "DUH.", but spoken in such a high-class, erudite tone that it becomes doubly hilarious. Dangerously genre savvy.

H.G. Wells: Famous author and Tempus' arch-nemesis. Built a time machine that runs on gold, and then stupidly showed Tempus how to use it. Wells is played by Bernie in two of his four appearances, and an older actor for the other half.

Lord Nor: Evil Brit with huge shoulder pads, and a transparent General Zod knock-off. His forehead resembles that of a gorilla's. A survivor of New Krypton, an entire planet of Supermen, which appears for 4 episodes and is never mentioned again. Played with scenery-chewing relish by video game VA Simon Templeton. Intends to conquer Earth, one town at a time. To that end, he starts with....Smallville, Ka.

Leslie Luckabee: Sickeningly friendly billionaire who swoops out of nowhere to purchase the Daily Planet in Season 4. Yet another character who likes to cons-tan-tall-ly ann-un-ci-ate. He seems just a bit too good to be true. Those monograms...? Nah.

The Troll: The man behind the man. Lex Luthor's deformed son, who lives in a subway lair whilst controlling Luckabee, who pretends to be Lex Jr. in his place. Under the moniker "Mr. Smith", he pretends to be Luckabee's valet. Has a dumb fixation on marrying Lois. Like father, like son I guess.

Dean Cain is a good Superman. Not a great Superman, but a good Superman. His transfer from Clark to Superman mode is pretty stilted. To be charitable, his rendition of Clark Kent is so breezy and memorable that Superman was bound to suffer by comparison. But the truth of the matter is, Cain's Superman is poorly-acted. He walks around with perpetually-folded arms. His platitudes carry no weight. Cain's weak voice isn't anywhere near commanding enough for the role.

As Clark, however, he excels. In the reboot, Clark was as macho as Superman was. He played football in high school (ethically dubious, in retrospect). He had ridiculous neck-length hair. However, unlike this 90s version of Superman, Cain's Clark is an average yuppie. His signature is the tacky ties he wears to work. His ultimate goal is to attain the white-washed fence, 1950s-era America Dream. Because Clark Kent is an alien, and therefore covets the concept of a nuclear family, makes one realize how much we take it for granted.

My Favorite Video Game Soundtracks - Entrée

2010-12-20T12:29:00.000-08:00

I haven't touched this blog in months.

The realization hit that no one looks at these things. Or if they do, they won't likely reply. Living as I do in a perpetual dopamine-like state, I missed what should have been an obvious truism.

That's not the point of blogging, I tell myself.

Copying Under The Brown Hat, I've decided to post my favorite video game soundtracks. In all reality, this should be entitled "My Favorite Music", because that's literally all I listen to. I am not plugged into the music world. Growing up with mom, I learned a great deal about musical theater and what we colloquially refer to as old standards, but anything beyond that is simply a blur. I own 1 CD: the motion picture soundtrack to Crash.

Why do I lack interest in music? The simple answer is: I care as little for music as anything else. Besides, I never had any friends to emulate or impress. When asked what music I'm into, I often just tell the truth: nothing. One time, a girl whose name I've long forgotten remarked, "What an empty life you must lead.", or something along those lines. But I don't care about her, and we were irrelevant to one another. So what do I care? If I am ever put in a position where I have to fake being a 'person', I just say that I'm into Depeche Mode. Which is a half-truth.

My thought processes of late have boiled down to sex and food. I've long since worked through my crippling lack of the former, but the latter has started dwindling around here. I'm confused.

I like video game soundtracks for the same reason I enjoy film soundtracks. They're hammy. Nothing is subdued. Even the tranquil songs have a tendency to lay it on really thick.

I'm trying to think back to my most cherished film soundtracks. I keep coming back to the Overture to Back to the Future. And yes, I'm as burnt out on giving tongue-baths to the BtFF franchise as everyone else probably is. Patience. I'm sure I'm going somewhere with this.

As much as I like the musical score, my favorite moment in the film is when George McFly helps Lorraine up from the asphalt. Alan Silvestri softens the leitmotif of the main theme, giving it extra resonance. Marty has restored time and (more importantly?) helped two people fall in love. What better use for time travel? It's sappy and touching in the best way. I suspect the romance sidequest of Majora's Mask was at least partly inspired from this.

I also like to revisit the theme from Memento, if not the movie itself. One viewing is enough.

(Lost my train of thought.)

SKIES OF ARCADIA

Air pirates. Everybody digs them. I used to draw airships as a kid, and when I played the demo for this game back when it was a Dreamcast-exclusive title, I creamed my boxers. I should say this is the only time a game of mine has ever delivered on its demo. Possibly my no. 1 soundtrack pick of all time, if only due to its sheer number of memorable themes. Not since Final Fantasy VI have I earmarked so many songs.

Armada - The prologue is ripped straight out of A New Hope. Therefore, I can't credit this theme too much. But listen to how it firmly establishes the Empire and their general aesthetic.

Nervous Crisis 2 - Otherwise known as the "You're boned" theme, and most associated with Valua's various pests.

Everyday Life - This is the first scene where we see the heroes (the Blue Rogues) at rest. In the anachronistic geography of the game, the Blue Rogues are the plucky Americans, if only by default. As has been pointed out by at least one reviewer, that's sort of unusual for a Japanese game.

They do still seem angry about that whole Hiroshima thing.

So what do we have here? Family, zest, and adventure. In the story, Fina has been rescued by the Blue Rogues, while her compatriot Ramirez (who arrived on the surface before Fina did), has fallen into the clutches of Valua. Revisiting this scene, you realize how fortuitous it is that these are the very first people Fina meets in the world. Vyse and his friends exemplify the best humanity have to offer, while the Valuans decidedly do not.

Hatred - This is the theme which plays when we first meet Drachma. It really should have been his theme music, in my opinion. I can't even recall what his actual theme is. It's completely forgettable. Drachma is a huge, ferocious-looking old man who has sworn vengeance on the great whale Rhaknam.

Drachma is not the most original of characters, obviously. However, he's not wholly derivative of Melville, either. Ahab's tragedy was that his vendetta ended up dooming his crew. As a person, he came off as an unhinged religious fanatic who couldn't come to terms with how God had allowed him to be maimed by Moby Dick, so he turned that rage on the whale itself. He went to war with a force of nature, and was duly dehumanized into a force of hate. Drachma is a big grumpy bear, so of course players are going to sympathize with him, and his vendetta is rendered more tragic because you actually want him to let go. But there's never any doubt in your mind what his final fate will be.

(Actually, the game inverts that expectation.)

Little Jack - Drachma's ship, and your first real vessel in the game. You later upgrade to a bigger ship with a 'WE'RE THE SHIT!' theme song. Of course, by then you're so attached to this one that the replacement seems somewhat hollow.

Lower City / Imperial Theme - Valua is a steampunk copy of the British Empire, with the added feature of being under permanent midnight. The city is split into sections - Upper City (the upper crust) and Lower City (the slums). The game gives you a tantalizing taste of Upper City, but it's short-lived.

In typical JRPG fashions, the evil empire is seriously upset by a greater evil. For some reason, I didn't foree that happening this time, mostly because the Valuan bad guys are numerous and their environment is fully-realized.

Kingdom of Ixa'Taka - An analog of colonial Africa, and home of much bamboo technology.

Theme of Reflection - I feel like I'm skipping ahead a bit. This theme is heard early int he game, but doesn't reach its full resonance until the very end, at the eve of Vyse's massive good guy team-up against Galcian's armada. There's intensity in the air and a very real sense of confronting one's mortality.

Gilder's Theme - Gilder is the man. A fan favorite, this bespectacled pimp is someone who obeys no man but himself. Also a bit of a lech, as his cabin is covered with photos of women is corseted lingerie; a first for video games, I'm sure. Gilder is the prototypical RPG character who is perpetually leaning on walls in true James Dean fashion, totally chill and confident that things will work out.

Enrique's Theme - Prince Enrique, son of Valua's loony queen and emblematic of how you can't hold the conduct of one nation against everybody who lives there. The interlude plays when Enrique defects to Vyse's cause, complete with iconic handshake.

The Dark Rift - Not one of my favorites, but deserves mention anyway. The Dark Rift is a stumbling block in Act II that comes out of nowhere; no one has ever crossed it alive, and the interior holds a graveyard of wrecked ships. The innards of the vortex have their own laws of physics. Pulsing mountains of fungi and giant moss-covered walls, all thriving despite a total absence of light. After all the build-up of this dungeon allegedly being akin to Lucifer's anus, the theme doesn't disappoint.

Eastern Air Pirates - First, some background: Yafutoma is SoA's Wutai, a stereotypically Japanese culture which pops up in countless games, even including the later Myst sequels. Yes, it seems every anachronistic fantasy world needs at least one town with pagodas. Yafutoma has its own breed of air pirates, too. They start out as adversaries to Vyse, but later join forces with him after Valua incites a coup d'état in their homeland.

Last Dungeon - I recently discovered this one again. I repeat, not one of my favorites, but it's grown on me. The eponymous last dungeon is Soltis, a sunken continent which is essentially Atlantis on crack. Lifelessness pervades the entire city. The journey begins with a trek through Soltis' rotted-out, seaweed covered interior, eventually leading to the pristine heart of the machine. The interlude captures the melancholy emotions tied to this city, now converted into a tool of annihilation.

Zealous - Zee big one. Without a doubt the finest final boss theme I have ever heard. To be fair, the imagery of the battle itself is also fantastic. As Zelos prepares to exterminate all life on the planet, the sky is cloaked in a metallic grey. There are no cheesy lightning storms, just a eerie stillness.

Everything clashes

2010-04-07T12:22:00.000-07:00

So I've got some illustrations. I hammered out a story. I have a navbar. But I'm still baffled by this design. I need more examples of gothic web design; scratch that, I need to twist my whole layout to suit a gothic design. Will white text on black background work? Probably not; the drawings are dull in grayscale and it wouldn't suit the mood I'm obliged to create. Maybe if I reduce all of the illustrations to an orange hue?

How do I merge this crap together?

I thought it might be better to opt for a Dayglow Outline design, but I have even fewer example of that to draw from. It occurred to me that an elaborate, multicolored Chinese mural/line design might be ideal. Sounds like a ton of work, though.

Click for large view

After much headbanging, I crafted a uniform background. I'll change the hue and image positioning for each page.

The images are going to suck up a lot of time. I'll leave that for last.

Reducing 1001 Nights to six pages is not my idea of a fun time. The text positioning is abstract, meaning the finished product is going to be partly dependent on what image collages I create.

Web Design - week 7

2010-03-24T14:14:00.000-07:00

I haven't touched this blog in almost a year.

For Thursday's assignment, I finally decided on Arabian Nights as the subject of my site. No particular reason, outside of the utility of limiting myself to the frame story of Sharyar and Scheherezade.* I have very little knowledge of the actual story. Incidentally, my heritage has nothing to this choice. I'm completely naturalized and have little interest in foreign culture. (That sounded harsh. I'm not a patriot, just a philistine!)

It's taken me almost a full week (with class scheduled for tomorrow evening) to settle on a story. First, I was racking my brain for some early myth or book I had read as a kid, but none sprang to mind. This can be attributed either to my bad long term memory or total lack of interest in fiction books.

*A frame story, as defined by wikipedia, is a story-within-a-story.

As of now, the fixed template is an Persian-style curtain. The connotations of the drapery are obvious to anyone even vaguely familiar with 1001 And 1 Nights (AKA Arabian Nights).

Progress is slow. As per Prof.'s guidelines, I've settled on the Gothic Organic web style, which isn't suited to my preferences or mindset. I like grids, organization, symmetry. This is not due to rigidity on my part but more a lack of swift imagination.

Illustrations have been a big headache. How to best depict a vertical-scrolling, abstract narrative? I decided to steal a few of Yoshitaka Amano's drawings and incorporate it as Arabic art. Amano is best known for his work on the Final Fantasy games during the nineties; his art is fluid and sketchy with a vaguely middle-eastern aesthetic, at least to me. Editing his illustrations in Photoshop has been a fun if time-wasting task. I'll try to include some Persian-style symbols and floral overlays instead. Something which involves less time and plagiarism. The originals are found here and here.

Two seperate Amano illustrations, which I edited and pasted together.

I'm always mindful of unnecessary complexity; hence I will limit the amount of images I borrow, and keep the site mostly text-based. I'm also interested in using overlays of Arabic text, but this will probably necessitate downloading Arabic font into Word and then (yawn) transforming the text into images etc etc.

This project has already fallen behind. Hopefully I'm only expected to bring in a draft tomorrow. I work better when I can sponge ideas off other people's projects. On my own, my mind's a blank.

Ow.

2009-08-05T17:29:00.000-07:00

No matter how many of these female empowerment movies I see, they all seem to blur together. If you've seen First Wives Club, you've seen everything.

There's less singing in this one though.

Nevertheless, my memory is fresh enough to realize that The Women hits all the marks. There's a group of 5-6 women. One keeps pumping out babies. One is a tightass and works at a major corporation. A few other ladies tossed in for atmosphere. The central character, Woman A (Meg Ryan, whose upper lip no longer moves) is a homemaker who discovers that her husband's been cheating. Their preteen daughter is a pointlessly-rebellious little drip who scorns Woman A and clings to one of the other women, wishing they were her mother instead.

In a way, chick movies are the spiritual successor to those depression-era movies about rich, white, loony protestants and their hijinks.

In response to a little girl's proclamation of "I hate this store!", Annette Bening whirls around and responds with an icy tone,

"Nobody. Hates. SAKS."

The inflection on "Saks" makes it sound like "Sex", which was probably intentional. You can almost hear Annette getting wet over the mere mention of the name.

The Women is not as morally bankrupt as, say, the Sex & The City movie. The reason is that it's based on an old 1939 MGM film, though I haven't had the pleasure of seeing it. Their structures are apparently identical: A lineup of scary powerhouse actresses — Joan Crawford, Rosalind Russel back in the day — match wits with an evil slut, with the primary setting being a perfume store.

I don't what's so base and pedestrian about me that I actually like Eva Mendez. She was one of few redeeming aspects of Ghost Rider, and has the advantage of looking ridiculously perfect while still being able to act. She's the one playing the Joan Crawford man-eater, stealing away Woman A's husband for the express purpose of draining his credit cards. Woman A takes it pretty well. Well, it's difficult to gauge her reaction since Meg Ryan is physically unable to frown now.

Speaking of homages, remember the cameo by a matronly actress who consoles Woman A and acts as an estrogen-powered rudder? Great, now you got three. Candice Bergen, playing the Learned In The Ways Of The Horny Husband mother of Woman A; Carrie Fisher, playing the Satanic Rumormonger who seeks to exploit the situation; and finally Bette Midler, the New Age Feminist Guru who counsels Woman A to "Live the dream". Rounding out the cast is Jada Pinkett Smith as Token Black Friend. She's a lesbian, just to mix things up. If you forget, she'll remind you in every line of dialogue.

I actually sympathize with this movie, despite my snark. Bette Midler's message, for one thing, isn't all bullshit. Maybe life would be easier if we just said "Don't give a shit about anybody" and looked out for number one.

Oh wait. We tried that; it didn't work out so hot. But I'll give Midler this: She sells it. Another issue (not really discussed but subtly alluded to) is whether or not infidelity is really worth a costly, emotionally-harrowing divorce. All because the husband craves a younger twat? Meg Ryan has an interesting scene where she bemoans having to sleep with the same balding man for over 13 years. Maybe it won't be long before Americans finally wake up and get it though their heads that monogamy isn't always an absolute, perfect mean. We could learn a thing or two from, say, the French.

..Right. Movie review.

So, Woman A goes to live at an ashram or something and comes home with a newfound desire to realize her dreams. She will open her own multi-million dollar business — I've already forgotten what Woman A's field is; at any rate, it's not really made clear — and win the respect of her ungrateful twit of a daughter in the process.

Seriously, it's hard enough for Hollywood to produce a chick flick with believable, empathetic woman. Do they really need to include a cardboard cut-out of a prepubescent girl who hates everyone and talks openly about sex? (Kids, today!) Like most moms, Woman A leaves her diaphragm lying around her daughter to find. Or maybe it was a vibrator. Like I said, these movies kind of blur together. But boy howdy, does hilarity ensue.

Woman A's daughter stops talking to her after she leaves the philandering father, and starts cuddling up to the hard-nosed corporate friend. This is perfectly understandable, given that Woman A regularly hosts garden parties on an estate bigger than Buckingham Palace. Who wouldn't feel suffocated?

BRAT!

Interestingly, the filandering husband of Woman A is never shown on-screen, effectively making this an all-ovary production. Points for truth in advertising!

I miss the 90's.

In fact, there are so many ladies in this movie, the viewer is barraged by faces they haven't seen in ages. Debi Mazar? Holy shit! I haven't seen her since she played Two-Face's hoochie.

The song lyrics that play at Meg Ryan's fashion show at the end are: (courtesy Annie Lennox)

Now, Hear this
Pay attention to me
'cause I'm a rich white girl and it's plain to see
I got every kind of thing that the money can buy
Let me tell you all about it
Let me amplify
I got DIAMONDS (chorus: Diamonds!)

This is truly an up-front movie message.

Would I see it on cable?

Not a chance.

Boo, hiss.

Verdict: 3 Missys

Ed Likes the Jetsons Movie and Doesn't Care What You Have to Say About it

2009-05-04T16:19:00.000-07:00

Recently I was browsing RottenTomatoes.com in order to determine what, if anything, was worth reading on it. After randomly punching a few titles into the search bar, I came up with one of my cherished childhood relics: Jetsons: The Movie. And guess what? The bastards gave it an 18% "Freshness" rating. 18%!

Assorted reasons? It's "dated". The "environmental message" was "cynical". The assembly line of fuzzy aliens at the end constitutes a capitalist plot to brainwash our children. The animation style was a "butchery" of the original holy material. One eloquent user posted this one-line review:

"Deserves to be shot into space."

Be happy you have any environmental message AT ALL, you dolts! "Dated?" It's based on a show from 1962!

When The Jetsons Movie was first released, the film got its ass beat by (of all things), Dick Tracy, despite having been pushed back a year so as not to coincide with a Disney juggernaut. Hanna-Babera's fans were of little help, fuming over the decision to replace the voice of Judy Jetson (Janet Waldo) with that of has-been 80's singer Tiffany, and staying away in droves*. This, despite the studio bending over backwards to record vocal tracks with the remaining original actors from the show (including George O’Hanlon, Penny Singleton and Mel Blanc).

You know what I don't get? I don't get why kids movies are stupid.

A decidedly average film like Kung Fu Panda has so little competition that people enjoy it as compared to garbage like MadagASScar 2. It's a good thing we have Pixar to keep standards high. The crap that movie execs insist on polluting our young minds with, just to make a little coin.... It's shameful the kind of crap our kids are force-fed these days.

Cosplayers. Jesus.

Jetsons: The Movie is markedly superior to the already-decent cartoon on television. The film sets up a premise that George Jetson's boss, Mr Spacely, has built a sprocket factory on an asteroid. The plant keeps being sabotaged in the dead of night, driving its chief executives, including Mr. Throttlebottom (whose name is a riff on the Gershwin musical Of Thee I sing...I don't know why I possess this information) to nervous breakdown. Faced with yet another resignation, Mr. Spacely frantically searches for "a total dipshit" (Well, that's not the word he chooses, but you can tell that's what he means) to replace Throttlebottom. George Jetson, arriving late to work, is quickly duped by Spacely into accepting the job, and is shipped off to the asteroid colony.

Now, of course this is all juvenile stuff, the kind of plot that was later "borrowed" by the live-action Flintstones movie (the first one). But that would be assuming this movie didn't display a surprising amount of heart in the interim.

To begin, the Jetsons—George, Jane, Judy, and Elroy...oh, and the annoying robot maid and dog, if you must know—uproot their lives to leave Earth and live on the asteroid colony. This upsets materialistic teen stereotype Judy (Tiffany), who was just offered a date with a rock star named Cosmic Cosmo (The guy with the blue hair on the cover art. Only his hair is orange in the movie....no explanation there), who looks as if he lost a fight with a can of paint. The family is somewhat reassured when they reach their new digs, which is an upscale suburb in space.

The exterior shots of the asteroid colony are all handled with computers, and still hold up pretty good considering the primitive state of CG effects at the time. I attribute this to the retro futuristic art style of the Jetsons, which lends itself well to CG animation. The Jetson's neighbors consist of George's new co-worker, the robotic Rudy-2; his jerkwad "son" (and Elroy's nemesis) Teddy-2; and the Furbelows, each of whom resemble a rapping Chewbacca.

Ah, yes. The rapping. Jetsons: The Movie has three rap songs during its 80-minute running time (if you count the ending credits), and I think many of you are in agreement that that is three songs too many. In addition to the Furbelow rap, we have George and Rudy-2 busting rhymes about pulling levers and making sprockets. You read that right. George Jetson raps.

And we rocket
While we're rappin'
Yes we rocket while we're rappin' and we're rockin' and a rollin' and we rocket
The sprockets
To Spacely.
Yeah!

Meanwhile, Judy is taking her infatuation with Cosmo pretty hard, especially after hearing the news that he's hooked up with another whore. This kicks off a synthesized heartbreaker song by Tiffany ("I Always Thought I'd See You Again") which I like a lot. Almost makes you forget Judy is singing about some asshat musician she met for all of 2 seconds.

But fear not!, as she promptly runs into another alien stud-muffin the minute the song is over. The new boyfriend, Apollo Blue (sounds like a shampoo brand) looks like he was cross-bred from Two-Face and Ziggy Stardust. Somebody want to explain to me why half his body is a lighter shade of blue than the other? I thought it was a lighting effect at first, but nope. Strangely, Apollo is given no room on the poster, despite a prominent image of that big-haired mook Cosmic Cosmo. Maybe he was given a bigger role in an early draft, I dunno.

Just as before, the factory starts going bananas as the saboteurs strike again. Mr. Spacely gets on the horn and warns George that if the place isn't ready by the time the company celebrates its one millionth sprocket (?), he'll be fired. Bent on keeping his job, George remains in the plant overnight, only to be carried away by a horde of fuzzy Ewok-looking things (another Star Wars reference...it can't just be me, can it??). With his dad kidnapped, Elroy forms an alliance with Teddy-2, and the pair sneak into the plant and catch the culprit: A big-eyed Mowgli named Squeap. That's right. Squeap. But it gets better. Squeap tells them (With Teddy-2 translating. ...wait, what?) that he's a member of an alien race called the Grungees, and that they live deep under the asteroid which Mr. Spacely is drilling.

INCOMING NON-SUBTLE ENVIRONMENTAL MESSAGE!

And so our villain unexpectedly becomes Spacely as he hot-headedly turns the plant back on, unknowingly endangering the Jetson family with his giant drill. Elroy and Teddy-2 are nearly buried in the rubble, prompting a blood-curdling cry from Jane Jetson. Yikes. Slightly dark for a kid's movie, inn'it? When George finally pulls Elroy from the rocks, he exclaims, "Thank God you're safe son!".

Well, kiss my grits.

How does the movie hold up 19 years later? Pretty well, I'd say. The initial response was lukewarm, but I liked it tremendously when I saw it in a theater. The plot is an obvious allegory not only for wildlife devastation, but also for ethical practices toward natives when mining resources in their country. I suppose that makes Mr. Spacely a corrupt capitalist of the west. This, too, is fairly shaky ground.

Then again, judging by the looks of the midget furries who represent the 'peasants', I'd stay away from the metaphor for politeness's sake.

The voice acting is much improved from the original show, with characters now assigned to expressing greater emotion at key points. The addition of Tiffany is, to my own surprise, not at all detrimental to the movie since her voice is a perfect pitch for Judy's angst-ridden dialogue.

As for Elroy, the original voice actor died before this film was made; as a substitute, the studio hired Patric Zimmerman, better known to us as...

NOW I'LL SHOW YOU WHY THEY CALL ME....REVOLVER!

For a revival of a half-century-old Hanna-Barbera property, you could worse.

Overall: 4 Bars.

So, in closing, RottenTomatoes is a community of ass bandits with no credentials whatsoever who enjoy smearing good movies and praising bad ones. If you want to read a good review, you'll have to hit up HollywoodBitchslap, or maybe elsewhere. RottenTomatoes has no business being linked to as many Wikipedia pages as it is now.

Gwyneth Paltrow's Ass: Destroyer of Worlds

2009-04-24T20:12:00.000-07:00

"Greetings! How may I fuck up your life today?"

Ah yes, the lesser Farelly brothers film.

Our hero is the titular Hal, a corporate drone with stupid sideburns (seriously, what's going on there?). Forever haunted by his dying father's last words to him as a boy (Go forth and chase tail, my son), he continually dates a string of gorgeous women but always finds an imagined defect in them. As we all know, traumatic childhood memories are the single leading cause of chauvinism (also, Holiday-themed serial killers):

Oddly enough, this is Hal's only flaw. Moreover, why did they cast Jack Black in the first place? He's not exactly a specimen of chiseled perfection, now is he? Wouldn't it be funnier and more profound if he were a self-absorbed prick?

FAIL.

Let's think about this premise for one second. A film about a dude trying to cope with dating a big girl would have a lot more resonance if:

a) He weren't brainwashed
b) His fat girlfriend wasn't replaced by a twiggy blond chick
c) The movie didn't throw ridiculous concepts your way (like a guy could have sex with a 300 lb woman without realizing it)
d) Tony Robbins was in no way involved whatsoever

Jack Black's character is decent, considerate, great with kids and perfect in every way. Oh, except he's really shallow for no dicernable reason, other than his dad's dying words were for him to go out and chase tail. The weird part is that Hal's not a bad person. The movie beats you over the head showing you he's the nicest guy on on the face of the Earth, so you can't really laugh at him looking like an idiot. Rosemary is so fat, she has superpowers. Her ass actually creates typhoons (Great, half of this movie's jokes just wrote themselves).

Following a fateful elevator malfunction, however, Hal starts to mistake a fat nursing volunteer (i.e. "Rosemary") for...well, Gwyneth Paltrow, and spoiled beauties as hideous shrews. Tony Robbins brainwashed him, the fiend! When Hal finally realizes this, he decides to (ooh big spoiler) love Rosemary anyway, and learns a valuable lesson. Along the way, there are a series of tired movie troupes, such as Hal's friends suspecting that he's dating Rosemary just because her dad happens to be his boss, and a sexy neighbor in his building who starts to get the hots for him when she sees how non-judgmental he is in dating a fat chick (because that makes any woman melt). Of course, there's requisite Vindictive Best Friend (Jason Alexander), who is repulsed by fat people and plots to get Hal to dump her. Then again, the friend is a complete troll, so I don't know why Hal would want him around. And to further hammer the point home, the Farelly Brothers ambush us with some burn victims at a children's ward in Rosemary's hospital, to strike a serious note about how true beauty is on the inside. Too...many...public...service...messages!

Paltrow's fat suit is actually pretty convincing, although for most of the movie she's represented by an actual fat person (albeit with her face obscured). Seriously, if the fat suit is the best actor in your movie, you've got problems.

If they went through all the trouble to cast an Oscar-winning actress, spend a million dollars on makeup and prosthetics, and then end up dubbing a third of Gwyneth's dialog over a real fat chick in a wig, it begs the question: Wouldn't it make more sense and be far cheaper to just leave the fat one in the whole time? Actually, I know the answer to this one: Because nobody wanted to film Baby Cakes all over again.

This is not to say that Jack Black and Gwyneth Paltrow aren't trying. Outside of tearing off a humongous block of cake and walking away with it like it's a pretzel or something (subtle), Paltrow is pretty effective as the heartbroken Rosemary.

Regardless of its clumsy benevolence, I have to rate this as a romantic comedy. And for that, I give it a rating of totally unremarkable. Nice gesture though, Farelly brothers.

And at the end, everybody leaves to join the Peace Corps. How sweet.

Smallville Sucks - Supplementary Material

2009-04-13T07:38:00.000-07:00

Coming back to Allison Mack as Chloe Sullivan... Now in its eight season, Smallville has shed nearly every principal character from season 1. Chloe, the stalwart, has remained despite her character serving no function anymore.

During Smallville's run, Chloe has continually evolved from geeky exposition queen to a component of various love triangles, and eventually part-time villainess. (That isn't saying much, as everybody on Smallville gets to be villanous and then revert back without any repercussions.)

Let me start by saying Allison is an excellent actor. Whatever its faults, Smallville has traditionally gotten solid performances from its actors. However, Chloe stands out as the most well-rounded, believable characters in the series. It doesn't hurt that Allison is...well, fine, and has a gummy megawatt smile which is cute in an earthy sense.

With Michael Rosenbaum gone, Allison is literally the last of the old guard who is still lending a degree of classiness to the proceedings. It's depressing, then, how each season culminates in a fan debate over whether or not Chloe will finally be killed off.

In the pilot episode, the character is introduced as part of the big three — Clark Kent, Pete Ross, and Chloe Sullivan — who run the school newspaper, the Torch. (Newspaper, huh. Cute.) As keeper of the "Wall of Weird", a bulletin board of of news clippings involving local phenomena, Chloe's original purpose was to monitor the supervillains in Smallville. (Townsfolk who have been mutated by kryptonite... Don't ask.) She eventually metamorphosed into a computer geek with mad hacker skillz. I don't know what kind of secret hardware she's hidden in that green iMac, but it chugs like a Cray supercomputer and can steal corporate blueprints and asylum records in an instant.

Eight seasons later — after Chloe has moved to Metropolis, worked as an assassin, gained healing abilities, searched for her long-lost mother, and been hijacked by aliens — this is still pretty much her deal. In recent years, she has more or less filled the role of Oracle, a character from the comics who hides behind her network of computers.

Chloe is an original character who doesn't have any ties to the comics or movies, unlike the rest of the cast. Even Whitney is somewhat alluded to as the football dickhead who harasses Clark in Superman: The Movie. Lionel, for his part, is an amalgam of John Byrne's 1986 version of Lex Luthor, as well as a mash-up of various abusive fathers in fiction. So Chloe doesn't have the baggage of being established outside of this series. On the other hand, according to comic geek logic, this means she's fated to die sooner or later. A morbid cloud has surrounded Chloe on a yearly basis, as fans take bets on when "she's gonna leave".

"Tee hee! Clark, you're so funny! SIGH...you have nice eyes."

There's also a cool relationship between her and Lionel Luthor, who want to 'borrow' her expertise for nefarious purposes. It's to Smallville's credit that it really makes you buy a billionaire with plenty of other more important concerns would go out of his way to blow up a teenage girl's FBI safehouse.

Added to the mix is Chloe's poorly-disguised infatuation with Clark, which manifests in some fairly vindictive ways. Naturally, as the 'smart girl' at school Chloe is the dark horse of the tale, totally overlooked by Clark in favor of that smokin' hot asian poontang Lana Lang. Despite the apparent realism of an adolescent boy selecting a Neutrogena model over his geeky newspaper editor, many fans erupted in what was destined to become the first of several shipper wars. I first became acquainted with this term while watching Smallville, a show which seems to have been designed for it. At any given time, there is no less than five (four if you're lucky) shipper subplots going on, including Chlark, Clana, Clex, Chlana, Chlex, Chlionel, etc etc. If, by chance, it's not practical to form a cute nickname for a fantasized couple, the fans will label it "Bloomsday" (after Davis Bloom, the re-imagined version of Doomsday).

Since female viewers tended to identify more with Chloe over her archrival Lana, the groundswell started getting a bit out of control as more and more preteen girls declared that CHLOE MUST TRIUMPH. There was even a rumor floating around that Chloe would one day fulfill her dream, dye her hair, change her name to Lois Lane, and live in romantic bliss with Clark forever. Evidently, the letters in the name "Lois Lane" are contained in "Chloe Sullivan", along with some other letters...or something. I wish I were kidding, but I'm not.

This picture was way too easy to come across.

In due time, the real Lois Lane joined the cast of Smallville, and to their credit (I guess?), the writers vehemently refuse to kill off Chloe year after year. Stubbornness? Possibly.

When I first began this blog, I wrote about the refreshing realism of Chloe's treatment at being spurned repeatedly by her crush. The last straw comes after Clark, tied down by his top-secret superhero duties, ditches Chloe at the prom....in her dress...on the dance floor...to go save LANA. Ouch. And he pays dearly when Chloe goes straight to Lionel Luthor and offers to be a double agent.

Hell hath no fury like Hot Topic.

I like to think that us male viewers were pulling for Allison, too. Let's be honest, regardless of whether she's being eclipsed by leggy, firm-assed eye candy, you can only portray a character as "geeky" so many times before the male demographic finally rebels and says, "Yeah, I'd hit it." Of course, as long as Lana (Kirsten Kreuk) remained on the show, her popularity would always surpass Allison's, but... By the end, Lana's infuriating "good/evil" switcharoos had alienated what few shippers she had left. Say what you will, at least she doesn't put on her villainess hat for a year and then inexplicably end up good again, just because the show says so.

But that's for another blog.

Chloe eventually nets a job at the Daily Planet, a place which affords her a huge, darkened office full of computer terminals for her and Clark to hack into. I'm serious, they get a superb amount of privacy. Chloe is frequently seen in the "Isis Foundation" of late, a feminine-looking office which houses The Mother of All Supercomputers. The building is owned by Lana Lang who, fueled by girl power and righteous indignation, built it after marrying Lex Luthor and embezzling billions of dollars, which she then proceeded to use to spy on the good guys and.... nevermind. Anyway, the whole place is choked with estrogen and kind of resembles what you would end up with if gave Lana her own evil company and called it "FemiCorp". Now it basically functions as the Watchtower, the headquarters of Oracle from the comics.

I think it's safe to say this hasn't been the easiest job in the word for Allison Mack. In the beginning, the comparisons between her and the show's resident hottie were harmless and, arguably, crucial to the plot. The producers, clearly knowing their audience, liked to play up the possibility of a Chlark romance without actually going through with it, since the sheer number of Clana websites badly outweighs their opponents'. But it wasn't long before some cracks were showing in the foundation. Firstly, how is it Chloe loses her virginity before Lana, then bashfully acknowledges her "mistake"? That's asking a bit much from my suspension of disbelief. We're talking about the chick who is so irresitably hot that she invites the attention of stalkers, mutants, psycho "bodyguards", lesbian shapeshifters, old billionaires with mullets, and probably pets. She's still a virgin? What's more, the remainder of the episode is devoted to Lana's struggle to maintain her chastity (seriously), punctuated by a PSA in which — who else? — Allison Mack warns kids about the dangers of premarital sex.

In general, the fetishization of the Smallville chicks has been pretty lopsided. You need only count the explicit Lana shower scenes to see that. I guess you could argue that it made Chloe seem more classy in retrospect; but it also gave rise to some downright stupid episodes, like the one where Chloe magically switches bodies with the Über-busty Lois due to some kind of suppressed envy. The character also seems to have the poorest luck of the entire cast, as she is routinely kidnapped, cut with razors, blown up, frozen solid, experimented on, targeted by assassins, and choked out by ghosts.

(No salary is worth this.)

As we continued to delve balls-deep into the swamp of Smallville mediocrity, the scene where Chloe gazed admiringly at Lois (her cousin, mind you) in an American flag bikini and nonsensically exclaimed "God bless America!" is when the show officially jumped the shark.

Perhaps to settle the viewers' debate once and for all, the series did technically kill off Chloe in Season 6, only to have her resurrected as some sort of superheroine who heals things by touch. The Smallville writers, eager to play gravedigger to the Chlark shippers, also arranged for Chloe to lose her virginity to (groan) Jimmy Olsen, who eventually joined the cast as a regular. I

This is around the time I stopped watching. Meanwhile, Chloe was apparently possessed by the evil A.I. Brainiac for awhile (Irony?), a scheme which is obviously futile given that Smallville's Brainiac is an immense idiot who couldn't steal an ice cream cone from a 2-year-old.

"What's wrong Clark? I thought you liked dating mindless automata."

One has to admire this actor's patience. She has put up with some truly atrocious storylines; near-deaths; humilations of every sort. Apparently, her persistence was reciprocated: Now, each year, fans no longer argue over whether or not Chloe will be killed off, but whether or not Allison will leave. It seems more likely every year that, indeed, she will finally depart; if so, this would leave Clark (Tom Welling), the last original character standing, and frankly, he doesn't even count. It's always a little depressing when a show refuses to just conclude already and continues replacing lost characters with daft new ones alá Scrubs. According to numerous TV Guide interviews, the producers are set on keeping Smallville on the air longer than Bonanza, so where it'll end up is anyone's guess. Currently, Chloe is in a unhappy marrage to Jimmy, as well as yet another love triangle with Davis Bloom.

(It gets better: Jimmy is an addict now).

Ye Gods, why hast thou forsaken me?

It's certainly not as deep as Season 3 was. Hell, even the titillating Season 4 is starting to look like Shakespeare by comparison. Time passes, though, and with experience one realizes that TV shows inevitably evolve during their run. I guess it's the shark analogy: swim or die.

I'm reminded of an old joke: No matter how Golden a Golden Age is, there's always going to be someone who complains that everything looks too yellow.

So maybe my memory is cheating. I literally haven't cracked open my old Smallville dvd sets in years, out of fear that those seasons were just a trite waste of time. To forget those years ever existed. Do I still feel the pain? Yes.

Here's to you Allison, for keeping it real. Viva la Chloe.

Smallville Sucks #5: Appendix

2009-02-09T15:45:00.000-08:00

OK. Enough bullshit. It's time I turned my attention to the man who really deserved to be examined at the very beginning: Lex Luthor, portrayed by Michael Rosenbaum. Putting aside the fact that this is the coolest, darkest, and best-acted version of the character ever, he's also the biggest redeeming aspect of the entire show. I mean really, Smallville? Wouldn't you feel embarrassed to watch this? I know I would. And have.

The Baum, as he is known (by me), got his first big exposure in Sorority Boys (missed it) and Urban Legends (hated it) before being cast as Lex. The character is a integral part of the Smallville paradigm; the whole show is basically modeled off the 70's origin story for Lex Luthor and Superman. Contrary to popular belief, the two were never actually "friends"; at the time, Superboy (Clark Kent's pansy nickname when he was a teenager) hadn't yet moved to Metropolis and was busy rescuing cows and farm equipment, whilst Lex was basically his little groupie.

As a display of fanboyism, Lex tried making a serum that would cure Superboy of his weakness to Kryptonite forever, but a fire broke out. Superboy used his super-breath to extinguish the flames, accidentally spilling chemicals which caused Lex to go prematurely bald. Driven insane, Lex decided to get even becoming a criminal, eventually being disowned by his parents and kicked out of Smallville by an angry mob. The end.

I suppose it must have worked for that particular era. Seriously, is it any more plausible for Mr. Fantastic to agree to share his dorm in college with a guy named Viktor Von Doom?

Not surprisingly, Lex's story is typically more interesting than Clark's. After all, evil is always more dramatic than good; Milton's vivid Lucifer versus dull God. But how are you supposed to make a rich prick with daddy issues both sympathetic andlikable? This is where the balancing act comes into play, and Rosenbaum handles the role with great aplomb.

To his credit, he was also forced to shave his head for 7 straight years.

In the TV series, Lex is a millionaire trust-fund baby, unlike in the comics where he grew up poor. He gets shipped out to Smallville by his dad as punishment form some unrelated shenanigans, where he's forced to manage a fertilizer plant. While out driving his Porche at Mach 2, he accidentally plows into Clark — already on his way home from school — and through a guardrail, plummeting into the river below. Clark rescues the unconscious Lex from drowning; this is supposed to be ironic, but seriously, Clark saves his nemesis's life so many times during this show that it becomes routine.

Lex gets an equal amount of screen time as Clark, especially early on. Then again, Smallville likes to hype up their 'trinity' of Clark, Lex, and Lana, to the point where the season 3 DVD art is just their 3 heads on the box. :|

When you look at it that way, I suppose it's inevitable that there would be a love triangle between the three. Where did I put my aspirin?

Clark is still indirectly responsible for Lex's baldness, though in a different way this time; when his spaceship landed, it carried with it a giant meteor shower (!) which demolished Smallville and slaughtered several, if not dozens, of people.

(In retrospect, I think it was unwise to link Superman's arrival on Earth to such grisly death and destruction, but eh.)

Lex was also caught up in the blast, having been dragged to Smallville on a business deal by his dad. The shockwave burned off his hair, leaving him a pasty, bald 6-year-old and reducing his popularity with other kids considerably. We see in several flashbacks that the bald Baby Lex had absolutely zero friends and received no affection from his father.

Actually, the sheer amount of trauma this show throws at Lex is just ridiculous; it's a wonder he survives to become a criminal genius at all.

His dad beat him, his mom lost her mind and murdered his baby brother, his wife sabotages his plane and tries to steal his money, he gets stranded on an island for 4 months, he's dosed with hallucinogenic drugs, his dad has him committed, he's given involuntary electroshock treatment, and last but most definitely not least, he's been bald since age 6.

Which brings me to my next point: Lex is a nutbar. It's sort of implied from the beginning he's not exactly stable, but by season 3, I don't even think its a matter for debate. That's not to say that Lex isn't loony in the movies or comic books. His master shceme in Superman Returns is to grow his own continent like a Chia Pet or something, kill billions of people, then charge rent to the remaining 4 biillion who have to live on it.

Mwa ha!

Still, as unhinged as Lex is, it's difficult to imagine him becoming evil, which I guess means that the show is doing a good job. As the series proceeds, however, the transition becomes a little more hammy and coerced.

Expect to see a lot of this.

So, why does this belong in my "Smallville Sucks" series? Well, for starters, Lex is a total pansy. I've lost count of number the times he's been shot, maimed, abducted, beat up, poisoned, tortured, framed for murder, or otherwise bent over a chair (metaphorically speaking). This guy has seen more pistol grips to the face than any character on TV. I realize he's not yet the untouchable criminal genius of the comic book, but come on. Even as late as Season 6, he's still getting bitchslapped by his own traitorous henchmen; in this case, a wacko security guard who is obsessed with — who else? — Lana Lang and wants her fiancee out of the picture.

I haven't been following it closely, but I hear Lana gets superpowers this year. -_-

That's not even factoring in Orlando Block (apt name), a mercenary dickhead who kidnaps, chains up, and tortures Lex earlier that same season. And keep in mind, this is after Lex has wasted his dad and assumed control over a global corporate empire. Add to that the countless exploding laboratories and experiments gone wrong, and you've got a character who holds the Guinness Book record for most times knocked out on a television drama.

As you'll see here, Lex still holds the top spot on the Smallville Knock-out counter, though that S&M fetishist Lana Lang is currently gaining on him. Bear in mind, neither of them actually appear on the show anymore, yet they're still in the lead.

This proved to be Rosenbaum's final season, as he (wisely) declined to re-negotiate his contract and left the show. Lex's final episode sees him breaking into the Fortress of Solitude, discovering Clark is Superman (nice job, chief...it only took you 7 years), only to get crushed by the collapsing ice palace. In what can only be described as the least-anticipated move ever, Lex lovingly cradles Clark's head as the Fortress falls apart...and that's it. It's implied that Lex triggered the destruction himself, so he essentially took himself out.

By now, Smallville was already infamous for its complete lack of direction, but even so, I didn't expect Lex to go out like such a punk.

In the meantime, the vacant "evildoer" position is taken up by Miss Tessmacher, otherwise known as Lex's vapid mistress from the movies.

In seaon 8, Lex's body gets dug out and attached to a creepy life support system, which is only seen in veiled shadows (with a different actor, mind you). The crux of Season 8 is Lex's continued efforts to build a purple and green super-suit (Like the one in Superfriends. Really.) which will bring him back to life. To disguise the fact that this is completely different actor, Lex has a face mask, talks through a voice synthesizer, and is missing an eye. To make the Star Wars homage even more transparent, his robot voice makes him sound like he's from the WWE.

After 8 seasons of this, I feel pretty similar.

Stripped of his company and billions of dollars, Lex essentially reverts to the 70's-style, bitter-as-fuck archcriminal who isn't out for power, just revenge. This is nothing new; the animated series went in a similar direction by having Lex go bankrupt and become the leader of the Legion of Doom, and Lois & Clark saw Lex go bankrupt and retreat to a secret lair in the sewers. Most Superman shows like to to have their cake and eat it too; hence the reason why DC Comics has two different versions of the character and refuses to just pick one.

The arc ended with Lex's semi truck getting blown up. He's apparently dead now. Before Clark has even assumed the mantle of Superman.

Fin.

Smallville Sucks - An Objective Analysis #4

2009-02-07T20:07:00.001-08:00

Hey! It's Perry! The Daily Planet editor from the comics, TV shows, and movies is back with a vengeance, only now he's a drunk failure. Awesome. He is portrayed on Smallville by actor Michael McKean, who is currently married to that chick who plays Ma Kent. He was really good in Short Circuit 2, so go watch it.

We first meet Perry getting unceremoniously kicked out of a Smallville bar. He's not a reporter anymore — he's been blacklisted thanks to Lionel Luthor, who took issue with something written about him — and is currently stuck working for an alien-hunter reality show called X-Styles. He's out of shape, gets no respect, his job sucks, and he knows it; fortunately, he's always carrying around a flask of booze to help take the edge off. During a roadside accident, he gets rescued by Clark Kent and witnesses first-hand the kid's super-strength. Following this incident, Perry is stuck on Clark like krazy-glue; nothing you can ever do will possibly get rid of this man.

Needless to say, Clark "convinces" Perry that he's just a normal human being by the end of the episode. Otherwise, this whole thing would constitute a massive time paradox. That's not really the point of the story, though; the fun part is seeing Perry angering somebody and then getting tossed out on his ass every five seconds. No one, I mean NO ONE likes this man. Lex Luthor goes as far to drive him to the city limits in his porche, then dump his luggage in the dirt before speeding off.

You think that's going to keep Perry "The Pit Bull" White out of town? Ha!

The best exchange occurs between Perry and the Sheriff after he mistakenly calls her "Chief" one too many times. ....That's an in-joke. He never says "GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST" though. Believe me, I looked.

Morgan Edge, a sub-villain from the comics, is portrayed by Rutger Hauer and Patrick Bergen. Edge appears in season 3 as a Metropolis crime boss who hires Clark to rob things. As in the comic, Edge is affiliated with Intergang, a nationwide crime syndicate. It's unclear where the term "Intergang" came from; maybe that's the nickname the media gave them.... Seems kind of a dumb name to give yourself.

Rutger Hauer doesn't play nearly enough psychos. His soliloquy at the end of Blade Runner is arguably the movie's saving grace, and John Ryder from The Hitcher is still one of the scariest freaks ever put on film. Yet what does he do with his time? Buffy the Vampire Slayer and The 10th Kingdom.

Morgan Edge is introduced as the owner of Atlantis, a bar which can't decide whether it's a trendy nightclub or a rave. When Clark exposes himself with Red Kryptonite, he transforms into "Kal", a macho douchebag who robs from ATMs. This grabs the attention of Edge, who hires Kal to break into Lionel Luthor's office. Big mistake.

Morgan and Lionel are later revealed to be lifelong friends who both grew up in Suicide Slum, the worst neighborhood in the city. According to rumors, Morgan was the one who helped Lionel commit insurance fraud -- blowing his parents to smithereens -- which Lionel then invested into LuthorCorp.... This is pretty much identical to Lex Luthor's origin in the comics. At any rate, we get some crackling good scenes between John Glover and Rutger Hauer, two great character actors who rarely get to match wits with someone of their own caliber.

Predictably, Rutger was only available for two episodes. Rather than simply disposing of his character off-screen — which, seeing as we last see him getting clipped by a bullet and tumbling into the sea, it definitely seemed like they were going to do — Smallville takes the good old "plastic surgery" route and re-casts the role. It's the plastic surgery you see in movies all the time: the type which alters your height, eye color, and suntan.

Normally I would be outside shaking my fists in rage at the sky over this. As luck would have it, they picked Patrick Bergen, a friend of Rutger's who actually looks vaguely similar to him. Bergen manages to capture some of Rutger's mannerisms, while simultaneously bringing his own kind of thuggish intensity to the role. He's also one of few villains (the other being Lex himself) who actually thinks ahead and carries around Kryptonite-studded jewelry to bash Clark's brains in with. In short, he's quite good, which is a shame because I think he gets killed off two scenes later.

Not creepy at all.

Alicia Baker, otherwise known as Clark's other girlfriend who you never hear about, is portrayed by Canadian hottie Sarah Carter. I prefer to think of her a psycho Lori Lemaris, the interim girlfriend whom Superman dated between Lana Lang and Lois Lane (click here for a image, or better yet, don't).

For reasons which soon become clear, I don't think they could have possibly cast this part any better. Carter has enough sensitivity in those sad "Bambi eyes" of hers to seem like a wilting flower...while still creepily baring all her teeth when she grins, thereby giving the impression that she wants to gnaw your face off.

Clark and Alicia's paths first cross during a school field trip to LuthorCorp Plaza, where Lionel Luthor is happily playing tour guide (???) to the class while lecturing on business ethics. Following his sermon, Clark just happens to get into the only malfunctioning elevator in the building, which I thought was meant to imply Lionel had something to do with it. Nope. Just an innocent plot contrivance. The cable snaps, forcing Clark to reveal his super-strength in order to rescue the elevator's other occupant.

Civilians and security swarm the elevator doors; stick a fork in Clark, he's done. Suddenly, the scrawny blond girl whom Clark has just rescued puts her hand on his shoulder and teleports him to safety in the nick of time.

Sure, it seems cute, but she's actually imagining sipping blood out of your open skull.

It's hard to talk about this character without focusing on what could have been rather than what is. If nothing else, Alicia epitomizes Smallville's uncanny knack for blowing its proverbial load, totally squandering dramatic possibilities in favor ripoffs of memorable films (Fatal Attraction this time). That said, you could do a lot worse as far as villains go. Of course, that makes the writer's decision to swiftly dispose of Alicia even more puzzling, since she knows Clark's secret and is a few fries short of a happy meal.

So Alicia assumes that Clark is merely just another meteor freak -- not suspecting he's an alien -- and Clark is relieved to be dropping his guard around a chick with a wicked cool superpower. The two immediately become smitten with each other, to my immense relief, since any break from Lana Lang is long overdue.

Then, out of nowhere, Alicia starts hounding Clark everywhere and pasting naughty pics of herself in his locker. Clark starts to get tipped off that his new girlfriend may not be what you would call, erm.....stable. Maybe it was the scrawled X's carved into every single picture of Lana Lang in his room. Of course, none of Clark's friends take his concerns very seriously: Pete's solution is to nickname him "stud", while Lex's reaction basically consists of "So, uh...what's your secret?" You've got to appreciate this show's brief moments of realism.

Things come to a...uh, head when Alicia teleports into Clark's bedroom in her underwear at night. Well, that certainly torpedoes one potential fanfic out of the water. At this point, I fully expected Clark to jump out of bed, cover his crotch with a pillow, and run around in circles. I mean, this is Superman, right? America's oldest and most iconic superhero? Truth, justice, and other stuff? We're not supposed to see Superman have relations!

YEAH! Tap that mentally-disturbed booty!

Did... did he......?

No way.... Did he just cop a feel??

Yes, he most certainly did. And if not for Pa Kent barging into his room for no apparent reason, Clark probably would have spanked that blond hyena 'till sunup, crazy or no crazy.

In actuality, Alicia doesn't start to go bananas until after ambushing Clark in his room, so don't think I'm making him out to be a total idiot. That said, it IS pretty funny knowing what we know now. I mean, Clark must have had some indication that the brain connected to that fine body might have blown a fuse or two, and he was still tempted to hit it.

Mockery aside, this is a genuine response from a character who is supposedly still in his teens; not exactly the bastion of morality we know from the movie. This is precisely the reason why Alicia is a critical character, and the sort of thing Smallville was supposed to be about in the first place: a flawed Superman-in-training who ought to be expected to make some errors.

Horny or not, Clark isn't stupid. He doesn't tell Alicia about his allergy to kryptonite.... problem is, he happens to be mouthing off about it while Alicia is eavesdropping on him. Hoping to diffuse the megaton bomb he's just lit, Clark pays a visit to Alicia's house and speaks with her parents, who seem very contrite and polite...and eager to kick him out of there. Before he goes, Clark notes that Alicia's parents have been sealing her inside a lead-lined room to quell her rage (That's a neat parallel: Clark is suceptible to lead as well, since he can't see through it). Strangely enough, as soon as Clark leaves, Alicia's dad takes a header down the stairwell. Accident?

Aww, weak!

Clark lures Alicia to an abandoned factory, claiming he wants to elope with her. It's an obvious trap: Clark has painted the walls with lead paint, so she can't teleport! Pretty clever. But the bitch is packing a hunk of kryptonite, and disables Clark long enough to lock him inside. Nice reversal (I don't mean to speak so admirably...I mean, she's a loony bitch). Alicia forms the obvious conclusion that Lana is still a barrier to her happiness with Clark, so: LANA + DEAD = ^_____^

"It's not what you think."

Cut to the climatic showdown, where Glenn Close...ahem, Alicia holds Lana at knife point. Suddenly, I'm finding it hard to root for the good guys here.

Also, it's hard not to appreciate the irony of Alicia jacking up Lana at her own restaurant and holding a vegetable knife to her throat. That's Lana's veggie knife, mind you.

Clark manages to escape his prison, knocking over a paint can and drowning the kryptonite in paint, neutralizing it. Newly-freed, he super-speeds over to Lana's place and hurls a remaining can of paint at Alicia, resulting in a bone-chilling wail of self-pity from the power-stricken crazy bitch.

Haven't I seen this somewhere before?

There really was no point for Alica to turn insta-homicidal. It was an easy out, allowing the writing to dodge the prospect of Clark hooking up with a girl and it getting serious. Show some minerals, Smallville! A realistic depiction of like-minded teens having sex would probably formulate a lot more thought than, well...Clark shitting bricks because he let a girl get too clingy, and now she's mutated into a murdering wacko.

Food for thought. :|

This gentleman has a decent review of the episode, and I echo most of his sentiments there. I don't like sermons, so I won't press the issue.

Smallville Sucks - An Objective Analysis #3

2009-02-06T06:30:00.000-08:00

Ma and Pa Kent, portrayed by Annette O'Toole and John Schneider, respectively. Annette played Lana Lang in Superman III, a lamentable movie which I've never seen in its entirety. Bo Duke, on the other hand, is best known for his role on Dukes of Hazzard (in the 2005 remake, he's replaced by Stifler). No complaints here; the show does an admirable job of keeping Ma and Pa Kent simple, down to earth, and realistic.

Apparently, Martha used to be a corporate big shot before she settled down with Bo (?). Somehow, this draws the amorous attention of Lionel Luthor, who keeps trying to steal her away (don't ask me why). Bo, on the other hand, could just as well be played by a cardboard stand-in, with a word bubble attached which reads: "You've got to be careful, son."

"Remember, Sully, when I said I'd kill you last? ...I lied."

You really have to laugh at the times when Clark's dad, who is usually so incredibly mellow, brandishes a shotgun and goes apeshit. Only 2 things are capable of raising Pa's blood pressure: mind-altering kryptonite flowers (?), and Lionel Luthor trying to bone his wife. In a memorable season 2 episode where Jonathan is framed for Lionel's shooting, the pair have this amusing exchange after Lionel sends Martha a jewelry-studded watch:

Lionel: You’re jumping to conclusions, Mr. Kent. It was simply a token
of appreciation.

Jonathan: Oh, I think it was quite a bit more than that, don’t you?

Lionel: It’s all relative, isn’t it? I mean, a Roget DuBois watch
from me is equivalent to a Whitman sampler from you.

On a side note, Lionel seems really fond of spreading his arms like Jesus and tumbling off high ledges. Happens quite a bit.

Almost as funny is Pa Kent's mysterious disappearance in season 4. Evidently, Schneider was getting pretty fed up with the rampant sexcapades that were happening on Smallville at that time. Being an advocate of family programming, Schneider let loose a few choice statements for the writers...and promptly saw his scenes cut in half. Seriously, you'll be watching an entire episode, and the only line Pa Kent gets during the whole 45 minutes is when he comes into the house and hollers "HELL-O!" in a folksy manner.

Around season 5 is when Smallville really starts discovering its crackpipe. First, they invite the other Duke brother to guest-star as a Kansas senator (and old drinking buddy of Pa Kent). Following a sex scandal at a Metropolis brothel -- family show, my ass -- Sen. Yeehaw decides to resign his position and offer it to...Pa Kent.

First of all, who asked this guy to guest star in the first place? The show's been doing all right without any Dukes of Hazzard reference so far, right? Besides, it's not like anyone in Smallville's demographic is going to remember (much less care) about a show which ended in the mid-80's. Secondly, how is Pa going to be expected to run without any political credentials whatsoever?

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down... ♫

Oh. So....he won?

O_o

But there's one more problem. Everyone knows that Superman: The Movie is considered the Bible. It's as iconic as Star Wars; you can't mess with it. And Pa Kent fell dead within the first twenty minutes of that film. So how is Pa supposed to represent his home state in the Senate if he's scheduled to have a bad case of Heart Attack?

As it turns out, Smallville isn't content to settle for just any heart attack. Check it out: first, Lana gets killed in a roadside accident (yeah, I'm weeping). An inconsolable Clark travels to the Fortress of Solitude to ask his father Jor-El for help; Jor-El agrees, offering to wind back time, but at the cost of killing someone else Clark loves.....to balance the scales, I guess. Clark agrees.

????

So instead of Lana getting mangled in the car wreck she so richly deserves, Jonathan's bum ticker finally fails him. But wait! Smallville's not finished yet! Pa Kent doesn't just collapse and die like in the movie. No sir. First he gets into a brutal, smackdown fight with Lionel Luthor in his barn. Keep in mind, it's still election night, so Jonathan just got elected Senator 10 seconds ago. This is going to be the shortest term in U.S. history. Pa Kent basically mops the floor with Lionel, dragging him across the hay and throwing him against farm equipment (ouch). I know he's evil, but this is a scrawny old man we're talking about. It's not like he's a big danger to Bo Duke.

Finally, Jonathan emerges from the barn, disheveled, and grips his chest dramatically. But wait! Pa's not done dying yet! In what can only be called the BEST DEATH EVER, Pa Kent collapses into the arms of his family, looks left, then right, and dies majestically. He's even wearing an angelic white shirt as he bites the dust. After this aired, John Schneider gave an interview in which he expressed thanks for his "good death". Well DAMN RIGHT it's a good death! I think it's the most goddamn euphoric death in the history of TV!

So, now that's Jonathan's six-feet-under, his Senate seat is vacant. Who to give it to?

Oh, well of course.

Moving on.

Kara, better known as Supergirl, is played by Laura Vanderhoot (sp??). I was skeptical about this one. By season 7, the wheels had definitely started to come off, as it were. Early promo images showed a generic bottle blonde with hot pants, a belly shirt, and size 0 waist.

Forgive me for not leaping for joy, bad back you know.

In truth, this isn't even the first Supergirl to appear on the show. The original one (also named Kara) appeared out of nowhere in the middle of a interstate, causing a jeep to explode. Upon realizing that she's just killed someone, she proceeds to do what any of us would do, smile at the wreckage as flickering flames dance in her pupils.

Yeeeaaah, I think Kara may be evil, and if the fiery crater wasn't a big enough hint, she's also completely naked, which isn't derivative of Terminator in the least.

Evil Kara then makes a beeline (still naked) to the Kent Farm , where she tries to convince Clark she's from Krypton and was sent by Jor-El to mate with him. Well, she doesn't say it in so many words, but that's the implication. In the end, it turns out "Kara" is just a standard Freak-Of-The-Week who was altered by kryptonite, just like any other generic villain who appears on the show, only she was recovered by Jor-El and reprogrammed to think she is Kryptonian. It's definitely a confusing turn of events and only serves to make Jor-El look like a giant douche; then again, no one ever accused Smallville of being consistent.

Four seasons later, a new Kara appears similarly out of nowhere, only this one is good. No mention is ever made of the last blond chick who showed up claiming to be Kara, but whatever.

As expected, early episodes were shaky. Similar to her role in the comic, Kara is Superman's cousin who somehow survived when their planet blew up...which kind of undermines that "Last Son of Krypton" thing. Unfortunately, this particular Supergirl is a whiny, horny shop-aholic who is perfectly ready to jump the bones of anything with a pulse (Jimmy included). I fully understand where they were going with this; with Clark working at the Daily Planet (completely bypassing a college degree, mind you), Kara brought with her a return to the 'school days' feel of the early seasons. It was a good idea. In theory.

This episode really didn't help matters.

As is usually the case on Smallville, however, this wasn't necessarily the actor's fault. Despite sophomoric writing, Kara's quiet resolve eventually won me over. Once that stupid shopping spee/senior prom nonsense was over with, the show started to find clever new things to do with Kara's character: kick-boxing Brainiac, going back in time to foil a plot to kill Baby Superman, and an amusing "what if?" episode which shows Kara as President Lex Luthor's lackey. Vandervoort's expressive eyes also helped a great deal. :)

To my surprise, Kara ended up becoming a fan favorite of many (including me). Due to her instant popularity, it seemed obvious that she would be added to the main cast...

...not so much.

Let's think about this for one second. Lois Lane -- a talking sports bra -- appears in the title credits after one year. Jimmy Olsen is added to the credits after one episode. Even Jason, Lana's rebound boyfriend who gets jettisoned from the show after one measly season, joins the main cast the minute he appears on the screen. But Kara is somehow undeserving of the opening credits??

Maybe her name was too hard to spell.

In truth, Kara's presence on the show was getting embarrassing for the writers. The rule from the beginning has been "No Flights, No Tights". So what are you supposed to do when Kara can fly at will, and Clark remains glued to the ground like a total pansy? Oh sure, there was a throwaway line in the first episode about Clark being afraid of heights, but it was meant as a joke. A grown man who lifts cars, runs at the speed of sound, and blasts flames out of his eyes on a daily basis is not going to be timid about flying miles in the air.

Jimmy Olsen. Aaron Ashmore. He was also in X-men. Iceman, I think.

...Um, next?

Look, I don't want to appear lazy, but what am I supposed to say here? Jimmy's dialog consists of lame one-liners, his 'romance' with Chloe is beyond contrived, and he's the same age as Clark, apparent. Also, a drug addict. But at least they got the bow-tie right! Sigh.

The actual conception of Jimmy is more interesting than the character himself. In 2001, one year after Aaron appeared as Iceman, his identical twin Shawn Ashmore had a guest spot on Smallville during the first season. He was cast as "Eric", a sullen, unlikeable nerd (not unlike our protagonist) who inadvertently steals Clark's powers via a bolt of lightning. At first, the townspeople hail SUPER ERIC as their hero, but quickly grow distrustful of him and assemble a lynch mob, causing Eric to go ballistic.

Eric also holds the distinction of being one of few Smallville villains who actually makes a comeback: Upon being committed to an asylum, he hooks up with a couple of like-minded mutants to form what I like to call the Legion of Doom....actually, three losers who got their asses handed to them by Clark in previous episodes. Eric, the Dude from Swinfan, and Jonathan Taylor-Thomas (I shit you not) hatch a clever scheme to steal Clark's powers a second time, but mutiny among their ranks ends up spoiling their plan.

Jimmy (like Lois) was offhandedly mentioned on the show -- probably as a joke -- years before he became a series regular. Unlike Lois, however, there was no transition; Jimmy becomes a regular almost instantly. The first reference to him is made by Chloe, who admits that she lost her virginity over the summer (GASP!) to a dork wearing a "bowtie". This revelation is meant to come as a big shock; not out of embarrassment -- which is understandable....I mean, JIMMY OLSEN? -- but shame at not "saving it" for the right guy.

To fully understand the absurdity of this scene, you need to know its context: Lana, currently on the rebound from Clark, is considering (horror of horrors) having sex with her new boyfriend. Unsure how to proceed, Lana consults her BFF Chloe, who warns her against the folly of surrendering her flower. Thus, Lana is presented as pure and unspoiled, while Chloe looks like a complete slut.

As if that's not awful enough, I seem to recall this episode ending with a PSA hosted by Allison Mack, warning us kids not to engage in pre-martial sex. Penises are bad. Roll credits.

Smallville Sucks - An Objective Analysis #2

2009-02-05T09:36:00.000-08:00

Nothing says "captain of industry" like styling tips by Jennifer Beals.

The main antagonist of seasons 1-3 is Lionel Luthor, played by that guy from Gremlins 2 whose name is a complete fog (tip: it's John Glover). In the original cut of the pilot, Lionel is nicknamed the "Pesticide King of Metropolis", though this line got edited out. Word of God, however, states that Luthorcorp is indeed an agribusiness conglomerate. The ' magnificent bastard', as he is widely known, is the father of Lex Luthor and an original character created for this show. Technically, Lex's dad has popped up in various forms throughout the comics, but he's a fairly inconsequential character who either throws Lex out of the house (1970s) or beats the tar out him, later getting his comeuppance when the brakes on his car 'mysteriously' fail (1980s). In Smallville, Lionel basically serves as a stand-in for the Lex Luthor of the future; he's the mega-rich CEO of an evil corporation who apparently has nothing better to do than make the denizens of Smallville absolutely miserable.

As far as villains go, you could do worse. Sure, Lionel looks a bit strange for a CEO, what with his shaggy hair and crazy hobo-beard, but we let Donald Trump and Simon Cowell get away with worse, don't we? Rich people can do whatever the hell they want. If a white billionaire wants to sport shoulder-length jheri curls, who are we to stop him? As you'll later see in flashbacks, Lionel didn't start growing his hair out until Lex's got burned off; due to a bizarre Oedipal feud going on between the two, Lionel literally wears his hair long in order to mock his son's baldness.

As you might expect, Lionel is a big driving force toward Lex's evil, constantly staging overly-elaborate tests and sending a barrage of emotional abuse his way, all to hone his son's ruthlessness. That said, it's probably not a huge spoiler that Lex eventually does him in. Actually, Lex almost wastes his dad a couple of times, before finally saying fuck it and pitching his Yanni ass out a window.

So, regardless of the fact that Metropolis lies a mere 2 hours away from those golden fields of Kansas, wouldn't a billionaire magnate find a better use for his time? Well, LuthorCorp happens to be an agribusiness which specializes in farming, meaning it's perfectly natural for its CEO to build a sinister-looking mansion on the outskirts of town. Naturally, Lionel has got all sorts of evil experiments going on in the bowels of his factory, despite fertilizer probably being a safer investment. Over the course of three seasons, he secretly uses kryptonite to manufacture clones, mutants, mind-control serums...you name it. I suspect the writers are riffing on Monsanto and their genetically-modified corn.

Brainiac, played by the Buffy guy, is a shape-shifting robot from Krypton. You may recall that in Superman: The Movie, all the computers on Superman's planet ran on crystals. In his actual form, Brainiac looks like a blob of green crystals, which means he's an EVIL computer, I guess. Besides stealing shamelessly from the T-1000, Brainiac likes to pose as "Milton Fine", a college professor who teaches at Clark's university. Gee, that's actually kind of neat! Unfortunately, his story arc doesn't lead much of anywhere; he tries to seduce Clark to the dark side, claiming his father Jor-El was a "dictator" and General Zod was a beloved hero.... Anyone with even a passing familiarity with Superman II would know this is a load of horse dookie.

Long story short, Brainiac releases Zod from the Phantom Zone, gets killed, causes a worldwide blackout, gets killed, tries to unleash a plague, gets killed, goes back in time to kill Superman as a baby, gets killed, possesses Chloe's body, then gets killed again. Score +1 for successfully nuking the world; unfortunately, that occurred in a dream sequence and doesn't count.

At least Clark's keeping a low profile. He's so inconspicuously dressed!

Moving right along. Lois Lane is portrayed by Erica Durance.

Oh sure, a 5' 8, blond Canadian with C-cups is playing Lois Lane. Well, you can't fault the writers, they certainly gave it the ol' college try; In her very first scene, Lois complains about her nicotine addiction. Just like Lois from the movie, right? Eh, amirite?

Yeah, I'm warming to Erica already. -_-

Originally intended as a guest star, Lois quickly proved popular with fans who were eager to move on from the endless, hellish merry-go-round that is the Clark/Lana relationship, and became a series regular that following year. AW, HELL. They got me there. What am I supposed to do, complain? It's like someone offering you water torture after you've endured years of electric shocks to the genitals. Any alternative, even having your head submerged in a bucket, is going to look inviting.

So, how do we handle this? Clark Kent socializing with Lois Lane decades before their preordained meeting in the official Superman canon. Do we just arrange for Lois to move into Clark's house, sprinkle a few double-entendres to indicate sexual tension, and top it off with scenes of Lois walking in on Clark while he's in the shower?

But of course.

The natural thing to do, which would seem obvious given that we already have several Metropolis sets, is to keep Lois IN METROPOLIS. At this point in the story, Chloe had already been established as having a temp position at the Daily Planet; we could pair Chloe and Lois up -- sort of a girl-power investigative team -- as they solve Scooby-Doo mysteries in Metropolis, leaving Clark to hold the fort in Smallville. That would more sense. Instead, we get to see Lois shacking up in the Kent Farm, treating Clark like her own personal cabana boy and acting like she owns the place.

To be fair, we do see Lois and Chloe teaming up to fight crime in Metropolis, most notably in the season 5 episode "Exposed" where the pair investigate the murder of an exotic dancer. Admittedly, it is pretty funny watching them trying to whore their way past a 300 lb bouncer with a square head.

Once they get past Mongo, the Push-up Brigade decide to go deep undercover inside the underground strip joint. Naturally, this involves an American Flag g-string and giving Clark a lap dance.

I wonder....did this episode air during sweeps, by any chance?

Why yes. Yes it did.

He looks like a turtle.

Oliver Queen aka Green Arrow, played by Justin Hartley, is a rich playboy who was orphaned at a young age. As a result of this parental trauma, Oliver now operates as a masked vigilante who uses gadgets and fights crime at night. Yeah, he's pretty much a poor man's Bruce Wayne, which is no coincidence; due to a number of licensing snafus, "young" Batman wasn't allowed to appear on Smallville, despite earlier attempts.

Hartley was originally cast as Aquaman in a spin-off series created by Smallville's producers. After the pilot tanked, the actor was brought onboard as a kind of Obi-Wan who mentors Clark in the Way Of The Hero. A side effect of Oliver's sermons, however, is that Clark ends up looking like an even bigger stick-in-the-mud than he usually does. Secondly, Oliver and Lois Lane actually get horizontal over the course of the season, thereby extending a running gag that Lois only dates Superheroes. In Bruce Timm's animated Superman series, Lois even fooled around with Batman for awhile.

*coughWHOREcough*

Nevertheless, GA's popularity has endured the test of time; apparently, all it takes is a bad spray-on tan and insanely white teeth to make female viewers swoon. Though Hartley may be a bit too handsome for his own good, his character has been the focus of a inordinate number of episodes, to the point where season 6 effectively became THE GREEN ARROW SHOW for awhile.

Smallville Sucks - An Objective Analysis

2009-02-03T20:26:00.001-08:00

The worst show on television

Five years ago, I discovered the magic of DVD box sets. This is necessary to note, as it is critical in understanding my disillusionment with Smallville and television in general.

First, I started buying up Angel sets until I owned the whole series. Then I bought every single season of Smallville the moment they came out. But hold on. We're not done spending money yet! Then House came on the air, and I started purchasing those, too. But wait a minute. We're not done embarrassing ourselves yet! I then purchased, in succession, all four Lois & Clark sets.

Then Smallville entered its fifth season....and the Amazon orders abruptly stopped.

If only I had subscribed to netflix sooner, I wouldn't be staring at these unwatched, unloved dust-collecting DVD sets.

(At least Angel never let me down...much).

So, Smallville. It's a teen-oriented drama which debuted on the WB (now CW) in 2001. When it first came out, I didn't have cable, so I was barely aware of its existence. Then I finally did get cable, and I still didn't glance at it, for the obvious reason that I don't watch teen soaps. Fate swooped in, however, when Christopher Reeve (the definitive Superman) was slated for a guest appearance, and my mom is a CR groupie. Since mom can't program a microwave properly, much less a VCR, it fell to me to record every single episode until he popped up.

That was a long time coming, since despite the endless WB promos announcing the paraplegic Reeve's appearance, he never actually appeared. Suffice to say, I ended up watching half of the third season before he (finally) wheeled onto the screen. Thus, I was hooked.

Another thing I should mention is: I'm not a fan of the comics. Oh, I read the paperback edition of Death & Return of Superman and I have a general knowledge of the character post-80's. But the only comic I ever collected was this:

Not a time in my life I'm proud of.

Smallville was originally conceived as a new Dawson's Creek, only with capes. This struck me as odd, since nobody actually likes these kinds of shows, do they??? (Nowadays, I'm not so sure. After all, a majority of Gossip Girl viewers are men in their thirties.) Yet, there was a problem: nobody at the WB actually knew the first thing about Superman lore. So, they brought in some heavy-hitters: Jeph Loeb and Geoff Johns, two superstar of the DC world. Despite having the lowest expectations imaginable from virtually the entire comics community, the show actually paid respect to the source material (!!). Unfortunately, the original framework for a teen soap was still there and, as history has proven, Smallville has never really come to terms with that.

The show found itself at a unique advantage from the start: aside from the typical female demographic who feeds off romantic angst, you had a virtually-guaranteed audience of Superman fanatics. Remember, these people have tolerated two decades of middling storylines in the comic, not to mention Lois & Clark, so they know a thing or two about suffering. Nothing you do can possibly offend them enough to make them stop watching. What're they gonna do, wait for a new Superman movie (we know how well that turned out)?

Of course, some concessions need to be made in order to keep us restless geeks happy; hence, Smallville is located approximately two hours away from Metropolis (actually Vancouver). That's right, the iconic mega-city from the comic book resides in KANSAS. The show is persistently vague about exactly how far away Smallville is from the city, leading to some amusing lapses in continuity. Apparently it's possible to live on a farm, hold a day job in Metropolis and still be back home in time for dinner. The school's parking lot is packed with late model cars, and their football team is sponsored by OLD SPICE RED ZONE.

Wait....Is he wearing... Sneaky sneaky, Smallville!

Our protagonist is Clark Kent, as portrayed by Tom Welling. Not much to say here; he's a serviceable actor, and the script calls on him to react to things more often then provoke them. Picture Keanu Reeves with collagen lip injections. While screening an episode of the show to my mom's then-boyfriend, he voiced his objection:

"...He's too pretty."

However, living as we do in the age of Twilight and western bishōnens, Welling looks like John Wayne by comparison.

That's not to say that Clark doesn't have some compelling moments. At the start, Welling was adamant in his refusal to learn anything too specific about Superman's history. You can see it in the performance: Welling plays Clark as a clueless kid who just wants to play sports, be popular, and bone farm girls. Who can't relate to that? In a memorable story arc from season 3 (the best season, imo), Clark infects himself with red kryptonite and flees to Metropolis for an extended period. Unlike green kryptonite, which hurts him, red kryptonite lowers Clark's inhibitions, causing him to rob ATMs and go partying at raves.

Clark's best friend is Pete Ross, otherwise known as the token black character. Pete is a hothead and is usually more trouble than he's worth; this is best demonstrated in the episode where he becomes an illegal street racer overnight, probably one of the worst pieces of logic in the history of the program (I'm just funnin', I like Pete).

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!

Remember the beginning of Superman: The Movie? Remember the asshole who ditched Clark at the football field and took off with Lana? Well, he's got a name here: Whitney Fordman, as played by that guy from Flash Gordon. Whitney (not a very gender-specific name for a jock) does get the honor of stringing Clark up like Jesus and tying kryptonite(!!) around his neck in the pilot episode, but that's pretty much his only moment to shine. I suppose he does a decent job with such a thankless role, but the character is of virtually no consequence to the plot -- that is, until he gets killed overseas and replaced by a evil duplicate.

See you in your nightmares!

Lana Lang. Where do I start? ....I am stymied. I'm not sure there has ever been a Mary Sue like this in the history of television, frankly. I have a theory that this actress doesn't exist; it's just a computer-generated model ala Simone.

Lana is first introduced as a cowgirl who already has Clark's heart wrapped around her little finger. I seem to recall hearing somewhere that Lana — played by model Kristen Kreuk — was originally supposed to be Native American. (Must belong to the Blue Corn Moon tribe). Actually, Lana doesn't look distinctively Indian at all; more like an a-ethnic mush of unparalleled hotness -- to paraphrase Lindsey Ellis. Of course, in season 4, Lana was retconned into a descendant of an all-powerful witch from France.

Lana has a superpower of her own: a nigh-inexplicable power over all human beings, regardless of age or gender, and bending them to her will. Everyone on this show has, at one time or another, tried to bone Lana Lang. This woman has a unstoppable sexual aura the likes of which we haven't seen since Marilyn Monroe.

As the token Damsel In Distress, she attracts her share of murderous stalkers. So many in fact, that I've lost count.

Luckily, there are people who find these things out.

..Wait, wat? Lana's been knocked unconscious 45 times? And counting? Oh, that's right, I forgot to mention Lana's other role: getting beat up in every episode. No insurance company would ever dream of letting this girl through their door. I have a link for that, too.

There was even a episode where a female shape-shifting classmate of Lana's, impersonating Chloe, tried to get in her pants.

YOU STAY CLASSY, SMALLVILLE.

In addition to riding horses, Lana is head of the cheerleading squad, a bar owner, a chef, a master of martial arts, an art student, an astronomy student, a practicing witch, a vampire, a computer hacker, a billionaire heiress, and a bastard child. Talk about credentials! To be fair, it seems the writers just arbitrarily grant her a new skill or talent every week.

I love me some hot blond "computer nerd".

Playing the part of "nerdy friend who is really into Clark but can't get him to notice her" is Chloe Sullivan, played by the luscious Allison Mack. In typical fashion, she is way too hot to be a computer geek, much less one who can seemingly hack into anything and give exposition on whatever the plot requires. Come to think of it, isn't there a computer expert named Chloe on 24? Who stole from whom?

(fwiw, the Smallville Chloe came first.)

Chloe has the disadvantage of having what certain sexist individuals would label "earthy" qualities; i.e., she's not as astronomically hot as the rest of the cast. In actual life, she would qualify for primo spank material, yet here, Chloe is unfortunate enough to star in the same show as the glorious Lana Lang, living personification of all things chasteand perfect.

Chloe also demonstrates some minor character flaws over the course of the series, unlike the other female leads, who are saintly and chaste and virtuous. As if that wasn't bad enough, she happens to take up the third slot in the Clark/Lana/Chloe love triangle, even though she never stands of chance of attracting the lust of Clark, who displays an Amish-like devotion to One Girl and One Girl Only. Suffice to say, Chloe's weakness is that she's human, apparently an irredeemable fault in Smallville, land of the Porche-driving freshmen. During the season 2-3 interim, Chloe ends up getting in bed (figuratively, not literally) with Lionel Luthor, betraying Clark's trust as retaliation for scorning her. Far from being sympathetic, this ended up attracting the ire of viewers.

Oh sure. Apparently these people have never met a woman. In fan circles, this was known as the "Darth Chloe" phase, as indicated by her ill-advised punk hairdo which everyone hated (I liked it).

Part 2 soon to follow.