Talien & Maleficent's Reviews

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Saturday, February 28, 2009

Galatea in 2-D

My mom told me about "Galatea in 2-D" around 1993, when it first came out. 12 years, two states, and several relocations later, I finally cracked the book open to see what all the fuss was about.

The title evokes images of a creator in love with his creation, and in that regard Galatea in 2-D is faithful: Illustrator Roger Simons discovers that his painting of a magical nymph comes to life in full, three dimensional form. Poor Roger is down on his luck after being slandered by an incident in which he supposedly sent cardboard blanks to Nonesuch Books. As a freelancer, he barely scrapes by, and Roger figures hallucinations are part of his downward spiral into homelessness.

Believing things can't get possibly worse, Roger has the misfortune of bumping into his old rival, Kevin Matthews. Kevin's got everything: the money, the fame, and a hot new wife named Julia. What he doesn't have is talent. But how?

Kevin's success is not without its victims. Kevin's ex-wife, Donna, was once a fellow artist, but now she's a shell of her beautiful former self. Eventually, Roger and Donna discover the common link to their misfortune is actually Kevin.

After Roger confesses to Kevin that he thought his pictures started coming to life, two people show up with the intent of killing him. As a last desperate measure, Kevin and Elsie end up in one of his paintings. And then things get really wacky…

Aaron Allston perfectly nails both the fiscal uncertainty and thrilling creativity of a freelancer, and he takes both to new extremes. What if an artist could create life just by thinking of it? And what if the better the artist, the better the life?

What ensues is essentially a war of wizards, as Kevin and Roger begin a magical duel to the death that spans cities and paintings. Roger and Donna's paintings consist of futuristic science fiction tropes (flying spy drones, robot clones, and laser rifles) while Kevin's paintings are something out of a Harryhausen flick (ancient Greek heroes, gargoyles, and stone Cyclopes). Along the way, Roger discovers his 30-something lust for a perfect dream girl looks a lot like a fellow mature artist than a clueless nymph.

With such limitless possibilities, Allston struggles to contain the plot. Roger decides to paint an incredibly powerful superhero, only to discover that there's a limit to what he can pull into the real world. And yet Kevin has crystal balls that record the goings on of "important people," but not his arch nemesis. When the final battle comes, Kevin seems a little too easily tricked. The conflict is inspired, especially because it takes place at a science fiction convention, but I saw the twist coming a mile away.

All in all, Galatea in 2-D is less about Galatea and more about the artist. For anyone who has ever been a freelancer, his frustration and aspirations make for entertaining (and sometimes painfully accurate) reading. If only we could all blame a Kevin Matthews for whenever a contract goes bad.

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The Eyes of the Dragon

I've never liked Stephen King very much. The only story I liked of his (and I didn't know he was the author) was Hellcat, which was made into a pitifully moronic movie. And yet, while Stephen King is out of his element here, it's not a bad novel.
The appealing aspect of the story isn't the story line itself, which is rather straightforward, but the manner in which King approaches his subjects. The villain doubts himself at times - when the prince doesn't fall for his story at first, he begins frantically making other plans. Likewise, because the prince shows tears when accused of a crime, he is assumed guilty - an interesting and rare statement in a genre normally confined to the "heroic" part of heroic-fantasy.

And while we are reminded that King knows his horror element well, as his villains shine, it's also painfully obvious that he can't help but resort to being just plain gross to "enhance the atmosphere." I've always had this problem with all of King's books - he seems to lose interest in the plot and begins being disgusting, the difference between hack-and-slash horror and a truly terrifying presentation. Do we really need to read, in detail, a soldier picking his nose? Do we REALLY need to hear how much the prince's father farts? King is fixated on the "make them unlikeable so you don't feel bad when I kill them" method, which works fine in formulaic horror movies but is awkward and obvious here. Nevertheless, despite the occasional rude distraction, The Eyes of the Dragon is an entertaining read.

I've enjoyed many of Stephen Kings novels a great deal. Others I couldn't wait to finish (I always finish a book I've started, no matter how bad it gets!). He is either on his game or off it. In The Eyes of the Dragon, he is very much on his game. It is a departure from his normal fare of vampires, undead, aliens, and serial killers. His brings us into a world of fantasy complete with kings, dragons, heroes, and the inevitable Bad Guy™. The villain is one us SK fans have seen before in such incarnations as 'The Walkin' Dude' from The Stand. Yes, it's Flagg, playing the part of the evil sorcerer. Quite effectively, I might add.

I was delighted to pick up this book and find SK taking a wild gamble into a new genre. Yes, there are the obligatory graphic scenes Talien referred to, but I've read worse (Clive Barker, anyone?). I expect it and, yes, I take a sick fascination in some grotesque descriptions. I love to REACT to my reading, even if it is only to say "EEW!" and grimace. The Eyes of the Dragon is a wonderful tale of castle intrigue and heroism that has you rooting for the good guys and loving to hate the seemingly immortal Flagg.

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The Discovery of Dragons

I stumbled upon this book when I was looking around in the Children's Section (yes, I do that), for the role-playing books. Terribly annoying that they put role-playing in that same category, but oh well, I'm not so proud that I won't go there. And I found, much to my surprise, a similar outcast - Base's books are written with amusement and sophistication, and while they could be entertaining if read to a child, they are not children's books. This one is gorgeous, with the dragons fully rendered, amusing (and fictional) notes in reference to them from various explorers, tiny cartoons in the framing illustrating the stories involving the dragons, and maps of the world which show where the dragon comes from. Also, the dragons have a size comparison, from a man (who happens to be running away in the silhouette comparison), to an elephant. The only flaw? A jungle dragon described as a "massive beast" in the text and shown to be much larger than a man in the cartoon frame, is shown as the size of a cat on the size-comparison silhouettes. An impressive side note: Base did the artwork too!

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Underworld: Rise of the Lycans

Seeing current movies these days is a challenge with a very active toddler. When Valentine's Day came around, we dropped our son off with my parents and I let my wife pick the movie. She of course picked the "vampire movie." Which is why I love my wife.

As a big fan of Kate Beckinsale and the World of Darkness role-playing game, the Underworld series quickly became a favorite. It featured big budget special effects, lots of PVC and leather, and plenty of pouty vampires. It also featured a battle between vampires and werewolves, a concept that was so prominent in White Wolf's World of Darkness series that it sparked a lawsuit.

Despite the lawsuit, Underworld continues to forge its own path, such that it now has prequels. You know your movie franchise has made it when executives are willing to pay to produce what is essentially a history book. Fortunately, this bit of history is actually worth watching.

Werewolves and vampires have always been a bit of a mixed bag in Hollywood. The fact that Dracula could turn into a wolf seems to be one of the less plausible aspects of vampirism that were dropped in favor of the Ricean pouty goth. Thus the ability to transform into a wolf is exclusively the domain of the werewolf. But it wasn't always this way.

The vrykolakas, draws its name from "vryk," meaning "wolf" and lakas, meaning "fur" in modern Slavic languages clearly meant "werewolf." Vrykolakas in other countries, however, is used to describe vampires. This is because of the aforementioned ability of a vampire to turn into a wolf, which can be strictly interpreted as meaning that all vampires are actually werewolves.

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans turns this confusion into a plot. In short, vampires and werewolves are descended from the same bloodline, but the vampires have risen to the role of aristocrat while werewolves are little more than beasts. Or at least, that's what the vampires believe. To that end, Viktor (Bill Nighy) the vampire lord treats domesticated werewolf Lucian (Michael Sheen) as his foster son, giving him blacksmith duties that ensure werewolves don't transform with inward-pointing spiked collars. But Viktor's benevolence has limits, and when he discovers that Lucian is having a dalliance with his daughter Sonja (the delectable Rhona Mitra, who still isn't quite Beckinsale but comes pretty darn close), he teaches Lucian a terrible lesson. What Viktor underestimates is the kinship that Lucian has with his wilder brethren, a kinship that will spark class warfare.

Rise of the Lycans is basically what you get when you give a serious goth injection to the elves from Lord of the Rings, rehash the plot from Romeo and Juliet, and steal the feudal arrangement of vampires and their human "cattle" from the World of Darkness series. Nobody speaks in contractions. Everything is viewed through a dark blue lens. And lots of limbs get hacked off.

The real story here is the werewolves. It's their class struggle, after all, and the movie never shies away from the dire consequences of the characters' actions. There is a high enough body count on both sides to make Shakespeare proud.

Vampires. Werewolves. Vampires and werewolves killing each other. Two star-crossed lovers bound by their family allegiances and the curse of their blood. What more could you ask for in a Valentine's Day date movie?

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Defiance

It's very easy to assume that Defiance is a wish-fulfillment revenge narrative wherein we finally witness stories of common folks who resisted the Nazis with tooth and nail. A certain entertainment magazine reviewer blithely dismissed the entire film as too "Hollywood," because Tuvia (Daniel Craig) murders the entire family who assisted in the Nazis in wiping out his family. The review's assessment couldn't be further from the truth.

Defiance is the true story of Tuvia and Zus Bielski (Liev Schrieber), two brothers who lived on the fringes of polite Jewish society by surviving in the deep woods, more akin to bandits than heroes. Where Tuvia is cool-headed, Zus is dangerously violent. The two soon discover a widening circle of friends and distant relatives seeking their protection, until Tuvia is moved to rescue Jews from a ghetto. Now he has to contend with well-bred city folks who know nothing about surviving in the Russian winter.

Defiance never glamorizes death. The Nazi attacks share less screen time, presumably because audiences need no convincing about the nature of their crimes. But even the Bielski retaliation against German troops is miserable -- Germans plead for their lives even as they are executed. War, Defiance tells us, is reprehensible, and it is a task for rough men. The question is if rough men are responsible for protecting the weak. Why should soldiers protect civilians?

Every ugly part of war is on full display here: defections, in-fighting, disease, starvation, alliances of convenience (between men and women, Russians and Jews), bigotry, incompetence, loss of faith, and yes, brutal, bloody revenge. By the end of the film, audiences are less likely to feel vindicated as they are disgusted by the places Defiance takes us. This is not a feel good film, not even as a revenge fantasy.

Defiance doesn't cover every angle. As criminals themselves, the Bielskis surely committed crimes we don't see on screen (see the Wikipedia entry on the Bielski partisans for more). But it is hardly a glamorized portrayal of their experience.

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Transporter 3

Transporter 3's lead writer (Luc Besson) has a thing for redheads.

I came to this conclusion after watching Transporter 3. I'm a big fan of Besson's science fiction foray, The Fifth Element, and all I could think as I watched the slinky, thickly accented Valentina (Natalya Rudakova) was how Transporter 3 would have been so much better if it had been Milla Jovovich in the role.

That I was distracted by the stiff Rudakova's acting is a testament to how much the film insists on zooming in on her, letting her drone on and on in her broken English, and the endless patience that Frank Martin (Jason Statham) seems to have for what amounts to a rich brat in a miniskirt and heels.

Oh right, the plot. So anyway, Martin is a wheelman who does jobs with certain rules. These are all meant to ensure success in Martin's job as a wheelman. By the time we reach Transporter 3, every one of those rules has been broken.

And that's the problem. The rules made Martin interesting. In Transporter 3, Martin has become a walking parody of himself, fetishized by the director to strip away (literally) everything likable about him, only to replace it with beefcake shots of Statham with his shirt off, whip-cut fight scenes that don't let us see his martial arts prowess, and aggravating supporting characters whom the Martin we know from the first movie would have left on the curb.

The gimmick here is that Martin can't just run away from his job because a super-advanced device is connected to his wrist that will blow him up if he is more than 75 feet away from the car. For reasons that only make sense to movie villains, Martin is forced to drive Valentina to a variety of locations, during which they track him constantly.

That's right, the bad guys track Martin's every move. In fact, the movie is obsessed with keeping Martin in the car to the point that the entire universe seems hell bent on keeping him in it. Even the laws of physics are in on this cruel joke, which helpfully bends its laws to allow Frank to do ridiculous things like drive his car on two wheels, float it to the surface using air pressure from its tires alone, and land it on a moving train.

The generic villain Johnson (Robert Knepper) is a victim of the So Bads. As in, he's So Bad that:
  • ... he kidnaps drunk college girls!
  • ... he shoots his own men when they asks stupid questions!
  • ... he's helping sneak toxic waste into Europe!
That's right, uber-villains can now hit a new low: they're not just mean to you, they're mean to the environment!

The movie just spirals from there. Valentina, patently unlikable, somehow seduces Martin, who doesn't show the least bit of interest in her. Given that the ransom picture of Valentina shows her in a schoolgirl's uniform, there's at least a ten-year difference between her and Martin. Ick.

There are so many logic fallacies that you have to wonder if Besson's just mocking his audience. Statham as Europe's answer to the Kung Fu martial artist is just plain awesome -- I loved him in The Transporter and was willing to forgive the silliness of Transporter 2 -- but this is too much. Frank Martin deserves better.

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Chinese Super Ninjas

First, let's get something straight: this is the best martial arts movie ever. It demonstrates Real Ultimate Power in ways I cannot even conceive, and if I could my head would explode from the Sheer Ninja Awesomeness of it all.

What, you still don't believe me? Here's why this movie is the awesomest:
  1. This movie features a war between Chinese and Japanese warriors. So we get kung fu vs. samurai and ninja! Because this movie has the Awesome Dial turned up to 11, it starts with a fight between two schools, each showing off their amazing martial arts with the most unlikely weapons ever. Who wants plot when you can see guys killing each other with pinky rings?
  2. The five element ninjas are all color-coded for your convenience. Fire, Earth, Wood, Water, and Gold. Now I know what you're saying: Instead of the five traditional Asian elements of Fire, Earth, Wood, Water, and Metal, why go with Gold? Gold is wimpy! It's not even a hard metal! Why not Steel or Iron? I'll tell ya why: gold is glittery. And beautiful. Which is why Gold ninjas wear glittery gold parasol hats that can double as shields. They can use them to reflect light and blind opponents, and just like every good gold-digger, they can stab you in the back with blades that shoot out from the parasol-hats. Okay, I was stretching there but stop arguing because YOU SO KNOW THAT GOLD PARASOL HATS THAT SHOOT DAGGERS ARE AWESOME.
  3. There are helpful credits that explain everything the ninjas do is based on real weapons. This movie isn't just a spectacular explosion of martial arts madness, it's educational too: You could write a book report about it and I bet your teacher would totally give you an ALPHA, which is better than the letter A because this movie is so amazing mere letters will not do!
  4. There's a hot chick that dresses in fishnets. And when she's not in fishnets, she's taking off her ninja clothes! And when she's not taking off her clothes, she's betraying our bitter hero. Take that feminism!
  5. The hero and his three brothers have some of the coolest axe/flag/chain/scissor/polearms/stilts this side of the galaxy. Their weapons can do ANYTHING. Including chop people, blow away smoke, cut ropes, tear off limbs, stab people in the gut, and avoid people stabbing you in the groin from underground.
  6. At any point in time, our hero who also happens to be a ninja, flips out and kills people. And I mean a lot of people. He rips peoples arms off. He rips peoples legs off. And at one point he rips their arms AND legs off at the same time!
  7. The big boss ninja bad guy uses a fan. He's THAT confident in his manliness! Don't mess with him, it takes four guys to even have a chance of taking him down!
  8. The ninjas are totally silent. They can get past your stupid falling brick trap and your crazy rooftops bells trap with their eyes closed. Pretty sure they did that by turning the sound off BUT WHATEVER NINJAS ARE AWESOME.
  9. The good guys wear capes. CAPES!
  10. Two words: Super. Awesome. Dubbing.

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Journey to the Center of the Earth

Remember the old Journey to the Center of the Earth movie, with the optically enlarged lizards presented as dinosaurs (colloquially termed "slurpasaurs")? That was what passed for a nifty special effect in 1959. Today it's 3-D effects.

Of course, audiences of today are far too sophisticated to fall for lizards with horns and fins glued to them; in the age of movies like Jurassic Park, only a digitally animated Gigantosaurus will do.

This latest incarnation of Journey is surprisingly true to its roots: Trevor Anderson (Brendan Fraser) is an absent-minded volcanologist who is spending ten days with his nephew, Sean (Josh Hutcherson). Trevor's brother and Sean's father Max disappeared a decade before looking for the center of the Earth. Max left behind sensors that detect geological shifts in the Earth's crust and a cryptic series of notes in a Jules Verne novel (guess which one?). When one of the sensors fails in Iceland, Trevor decides to go on an adventure in 1950s fashion, bringing along his plucky nephew for the ride.

Accompanying Trevor and Sean is the fetching Hannah Ásgeirsson (Antia Briem), the daughter of another volcanologist and the only person with any spelunking skill whatsoever. While checking on the device, lightning strikes, our heroes dive for cover, and from there it's a lot of falling, screaming, and running.

This is a 3-D movie, which means that at various times and for no reason whatsoever, something flies straight at the screen. Since you will likely not have invested in the expensive 3-D glasses and you may not have even had the good sense to rent the 3-D version, this makes the movie seem even dumber than it is.

The other surprise is that despite the dinosaurs and the hottie, this movie is aimed at a younger set. The dialogue isn't very good, although Fraser does his best. Sean is meant to be a wisecracking preteen modern hero, but he reverts quickly to type. Scenes that are meant to be scary are played up for laughs: giant venus flytraps get pummeled in wrestling-style fashion, flying killer fish get batted away like softball practice, and there's a long and pointless mine cart sequence whose sole purpose is to show off the 3-D effects of the glasses you didn't buy.

Did I mention the irritating glow-in-the-dark mascot? There's a bird. It follows Sean around. Only he can understand it. And it glows in the dark.

Ultimately, Journey is more an amusement park ride than it is an actual movie. Because amusement park standards are much more family-friendly, Journey to the Center of the Earth is heavy on the Journey, light in the Center.

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Swordsman

It seems the notion of magic books that best Real Ultimate Power are something of a trend in martial arts cinema (the awful Forbidden Warrior is still fresh in my mind). Here too is a tale of a warrior, Ling Wu-Chung (Sam Hui) and his girl-posing-as-boy sidekick whom he calls Kiddo (Cecilia Yip). They become embroiled in a battle over a ... you guess it, sacred scroll. Mixed in with the machinations of the two royal families fighting over the scroll is an old pirate and his younger companion, who have written a melancholy song (also on a scroll) that they cherish ... together, if you get my meaning. Or maybe you don't, because I'm not sure the "close" relationship between the two pirates was intended for that interpretation.

Anyway, everyone's after the scroll: Zhor (Yuen Wah) with his high-pitched feminine voice that I only realized later was a eunuch, Ah Yeung (Jacky Cheung) a soldier who is willing to go undercover to find the scroll, and Ngok, Wah Mountain School leader and Ling's master.

At some point, the massacres that ensue over the scroll are blamed on the Sun Moon Sect. So even weirder people get involved, including the whip-wielding Chief Ying (Cheung Man) and her snake hurling lieutenant Blue Phoenix (Fennie Yuen). You read that right: Blue Phoenix uses snakes as a martial arts form, tossing them out from beneath her robes to poison and ensnare people.

There is an implied relationship between Ling and Kiddo, but it's never realized. Kiddo bristles at being called a boy when she's obviously an attractive young woman, but Ling doesn't seem to notice. Ling himself seems to be something of a smirking doofus, excelling in martial arts but mostly unaffected by the horrors that ensue over the scroll. It's like the actor can't bring himself to take Ling seriously.

There seems to be multiple threads running throughout the storyline, chock full of characters who can barely fit on screen much less in the plot. SPOILER ALERTS: Ah Yeung discovers his true lineage, Ling discovers a new martial art from an old man (the aforementioned Swordsman, I'm guessing) and uses it to defeat Ngok, who turns out to be Kiddo's father. There's the hint of a relationship between Chief Ying and Ling, and Ling and Kiddo, but this is all so subtle it's hard to be sure. And of course Zhor gets his comeuppance in an explosive and well-deserved finale.

There is a stab (ahem) at bringing the story full circle in at least two ways. The Sacred Scroll gets repeatedly confused with the Song Scroll the pirates wrote. The implication seems to be that the true sacred scroll is the melancholy song these two guys on a lonely ship wrote together. They lyrics translate into something rather melancholy, but the actors all seem to be smiling as they sing it, so my guess is the subtitles are missing context. The other plotline is that of the martial arts style of the drunken Swordsman, which involves twirling people around like tops and using other people as yo-yos by snapping them out from their belts. The yo-yo martial arts doesn't quite have the gravitas of the philosophical question of Which Scroll is Better, but you get the idea.

The Swordsman is a brutal, violent film that makes the most of its limited special effects budget with innovative camera tricks, featuring martial arts that can punch holes in wood and people with the flick of a finger, burst through ceilings, blow an army of soldiers off a dock, and yes send snakes flying. It has to be seen to be believed. Watch it for the wildly imaginative martial arts styles, but don't expect much in the way of a plot.

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What Ifs? Of American History

As a gamer, I have a special fondness for the What If series. Many gaming scenarios have been built around the different realities occuring from alternate history - heck, anyone can speculate on a different outcome of the Civil War, World War II, or the possibility of World War III. What If brings a level of expertise to the table, "preeminent historians" according to the back cover.

An important staple of an alternative history series is education, demonstrating how things could be different if a particular event or choice wasn't made. I learned a lot more about World War II from this book by what didn't happen, which helped reinforce why events unfolded as they did. In that regard, alternate history scenarios are a great teaching tool.

Unfortunately, the editor (and I blame the editor, Robert Cowley) doesn't seem to be able to rein in his writers. With this many essays, there's bound to be some differences in quality. But the writers never agree on the RULES of the essays themselves.

Not all the essays actually lay out alternate history. Some of the essays are essentially summed up as "WHEW! Boy are we lucky things turned out the way they did!" Which isn't nearly as educational as showing what could have happened. There are plenty of other experts that can simply tell us about the near misses of history.

Not all of the essays are grounded in actual history. It's fine to lay out alternate history, but for a neophyte who isn't familiar with the timeline of events, speculation without a comparison to the actual events just muddles the waters. When the writers use active voice, you have no idea if our guide to history is in fact speculating or retelling actual events as they happened. Opinion? Fact? Hypothesis? It's never clear.

Finally, some of the essays are outright fiction, Joe McCarthy's Secret Life being the most egregious example. So what, exactly, is this essay trying to prove? How easy it would be for McCarthy to actually be a member of the communists he was rooting out? What's the lesson here?

Some of these essays have been reprinted from the What If series before, which is odd - I imagine the group interested in this series already read the first volume and their inclusion "as a bonus" seems a little disingenuous. If the plan was to have this volume be a reference, it falls short of its goals.

That said, What Ifs? of American History is an interesting if uneven collection of opinions, predictions, and history lessons about America. Worth reading, but you might want to keep a history textbook nearby.

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Forbidden Warrior

Forbidden Warrior sounds interesting at first. Hot chick? Check! Mystical powers? Check! Martial arts? Check! It has all the right ingredients to be awesome ...

But it is so the opposite of awesome. It is, in fact, the anti-awesome.

The plot, what little there is, involves two brothers and a pirate on a quest to find Seki (Marie Matiko), the magical girl who can read the magical book that will unlock the Secrets of the Land. She is raised by a blind flying Anglo hippie who speaks in SLOW. PLODDING. SENTENCES, and spends much of her time in the wilderness, picking flowers and eating berries.

Into this idyllic lifestyle wanders an Asian pirate and his hot white chick companion (Musetta Vander, who seems to have no purpose other than to glare at people). The pirate instantly falls in love with Seki. What this plot has to do with anything, I have no idea.

The real story is about the two brothers, raised to be ruthless by their overbearing father. They're seen as kids fighting against each other, and then again decades later, only nobody has aged one bit except the two boys. Ah, movie magic!

Each brother has his own henchmen. The Good Brother has a group of misfit white guys: a fat guy who speaks gibberish named Jibberish, a Jerry Lewis imitation named Mouse, and a big guy named Tall Tall. Did I mention Tall Tall interprets everything Jibberish says? Are you laughing yet?

Fortunately the Bad Brother has some cooler bad guys, including Yang Sze (played by Al Leong, who has been in every American film featuring martial arts as every moustached Asian bad guy). Lots of time is spent establishing how bad the Bad Brother is and how Good the Good Brother is. SPOILER ALERT: These two are going to fight over the girl!

And then she will use the magic the flying white hippie taught her!

And there will be a big sword fight!

And then there will be very little actual martial arts!

And now that I think about it, there wasn't all that much magic either ...

In short, Forbidden Warrior lowers the bar for chop-sockey flicks down to its toenails, then trips over it. On the upside, it will make a hilarious drinking game.

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Zu Warriors

I saw the subtitled version on KungFuHD (which alas, no longer exists). I didn't take notes while watching the movie, so I'm sure I got some of the names wrong. I would point out that the below review contains spoilers, but really, the entire movie could be watched backwards and it would make as much sense as what I'm about to reveal, so I'm not giving away that much. Here's what I can figure out...

The immortal land of Zu consists of three different nations. There's the warrior monks led by White Eyebrow guy, which includes the super-powered fighting team of Thunder (a male) and Lightning (a female), some guy named Hawk (Wolf's buddy) with metal wings (like Archangel from the Marvel comic series), and some other sword fighting guy I will call Sword. White Eyebrow guy wields a powerful Shield of Heaven, which shines light on things and can destroy them. Then there are the peaceful bald monk types, who preside over the balance of Heaven. They are generally non-combatants. Finally, there's a nation of two people: the lone wolf protagonist (no clue what his name is, but let's go with Wolf), and his mentor/love interest (lets call her Moon). Wolf wields the power of the sun, Moon wields the power of the uh, moon, which manifests as a flying crescent blade.

These are immortals, remember, so everyone can fly, wields powerful magical weapons, and sneers at humanity.

One day, Mordo, the bad guy who consists of a huge flying stream of screaming skulls, decides to return to power and attack Zu. Mordo is basically a guy in a Cthulhu-mask, which really ruins the cool effect of his screaming skulls. Anyway, Mordo begins systematically destroying each of the Zu lands, killing Moon. Upon dying, Moon bestows the floating crescent blade to Wolf. Mordo is finally driven off by the White Eyebrow Superfriends.

Mortally wounded, Mordo hides in a Blood Cave, where he is able to absorb everyone's magical weapons, including White Eyebrow's Shield of Heaven. Now it's a standoff - White Eyebrow's team can't fight Mordo without losing their weapons, but Mordo is still recovering, slowly gaining energy to unleash his evil wrath on the world. So Hawk gets the sole duty of watching the cave to ensure Mordo doesn't escape while White Eyebrows comes up with another plan.

If that doesn't seem colossally stupid enough, White Eyebrow's plan is to merge Thunder and Lightning into one person. But they must both be one hundred percent confident as they ram into each other. Failure means they explode. If you're missing the symbolism, Thunder wields a long, giant blade that he thrusts forward when he rushes into Lightning ... you get the idea.

Anyway, Wolf is pretty miserable now that his mentor is dead. When Thunder flinches as he tries to merge with Lightning, they're both destroyed. Thunder is reborn as a childlike moron and Lightning seems to be unaffected - but in truth, White Eyebrows rebuilt her with a piece of Moon's spirit. Fortunately, because Thunder is an idiot, there's no danger of any sort of love triangle.

Hawk, in the mean time, gets fooled into feeling sorry for a little faerie that escapes from the cave. It turns out the faerie is actually a demon that ends up possessing poor Hawk. So Hawk goes on a killing spree, wiping out most of White Eyebrows' team.

Somewhere along the line, Sword falls for a human female soldier, who doesn't have much to do but stand around in awe of all the flying immortals and their amazing incompetence.

By now you've figured out how the story ends, right? No? This isn't clear enough for you? Sheesh, some people need everything explained ...

White Eyebrows decides to try to find the secret of the universe. He leaves Super Team Defense to Wolf, infusing him with some mystical knowledge. This knowledge is encased in one of those sparkly glowy crystal things that float over the Sims. Then, in the tradition of Ben Kenobi, he fades away, as all white-haired guys must. Only in the ensuing battle with evil, Wolf dies. Fortunately he is reconstituted when White Eyebrows discovers the secret of the universe, healing Wolf.

Thunder finally remembers who he is (his irritating dialogue is supposed to be hilarious, I gather), gets it on with Lightning, and their Wonder Twin Powers activate. So Thunder/Lightning and Superenlightened Wolf face down Evil Hawk (who does not have a goatee) and Mordo in the Blood Cave lair. Fulfilling his oath, Wolf kills Hawk and puts him out of his misery. Mordo is defeated. Moon's reincarnated spirit either leaves Lightning or manifests, but I can't remember because I didn't care at that point.

The end.

It's telling how many people praise this film without providing any detail as to the plot. That's because this hyperkinetic mess is a tangle of poor special effects, bizarre storyline plotting, and far too many characters to follow. Some of this can be chalked up to differences in culture and translation. But a lot of it can't.

It should have been an anime.

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Pi

When my parents came to visit to celebrate my father's birthday, my wife rented Pi, an "indie sci-fi" film as described by Netflix. When I used those two words to describe the movie, he said, "oh great, I've never seen an Indian science fiction movie!"

Pi was not made by Indians. And it's not really a science fiction movie. It's more of a weird fiction movie, extrapolating a single idea and obsessing over it. Max Cohen (Sean Gullette) is a brilliant, eccentric mathematician who is convinced he can apply the laws of mathematics to nature, and by proxy, the stock market. Since the stock market is a reflection of humanity, which is a reflection of nature, he believes there is a pattern that can be mathematically predicted. Predict the stock market and get rich, right?

From the beginning, we're never sure why Max wants so badly to pursue this path to power. Is he sick of being poor? Perhaps it's to succeed where his mentor, Sol Robenson (Mark Margolis), failed. Sol's stroke stopped him from puzzling out of the answer, which is precisely 216 characters long.

And so we have two philosophies that are actually one and the same: that mathematics of sufficient scope IS nature. Or in other words, the entire universe could be predicted if we just had enough computing power to handle it. Which could be interpreted as the definition of God. This dichotomy manifests as the Kabbalist Lenny Meyer (Ben Shenkman) on one side and the corporate goon Marcy Dawson (Pamela Hart) on the other. Meyer seeks to reclaim the connection with the heavens through the Tetragrammaton, the name of God, and he believes it's 216 characters long. Dawson just wants Max to figure out the secret of the stock market, presumably to make a lot of money. It's the old religion vs. science debate.

The stark black and white film further delineates Pi's either/or approach. It's so washed out that it begins to induce the migraines Max experiences as he gets ever closer to the truth. Aronofsky is a master of translating human misery through visceral images, and the whip-snapshot sequences of Requiem for a Dream's drug addiction are in full evidence here. Even the soundtrack sounds similar, which plucks at the nerve endings in your gums with ever-increasing urgency.

Pi isn't a bad film, but it's intellectually challenging. There's precious little science in Pi, or valid mathematics, or even an accurate portrayal of Kabablism. It uses artistic license to make its point -- that the nature of God is beyond human ken - and ultimately beats the viewer over the head with it in the end. Literally.

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3:10 to Yuma

3:10 to Yuma is an update of the 1957 movie that's in turn an interpretation of a 1953 Western short story by Elmore Leonard. The 1957 movie cleverly tweaked the Western, inverting the white hats/black hats trope at a time when the genre was chiefly focused on morality. And yet while it flirted with the notion that good guys can be bad and bad guys can be good, it wasn't really willing to go so far as to make the characters more than lovable rogues. So perhaps it was inevitable in the era of Westerns like Unforgiven where the West is an unpleasant, unfair place, that the latest incarnation of 3:10 to Yuma is both more brutal and more fanciful than its predecessor.

The story follows Dan Evans (Christian Bale) and his family, a lame Civil War veteran on a struggling ranch. He has been borrowing money and time from Glen Hollander, a landowner who is more interested in moving Evans' ranch than getting paid. As played by Bale, Evans is a desperate man - as weathered and bitter as a piece of broken leather. He yearns for the respect of his wife and two sons. And when he crosses paths with outlaw Ben Wade (Russell Crowe), Evans sees his chance.

Wade is a gentleman outlaw. Suave, violent, and dressed in black, he leads a ragtag band of murderers who will stop at nothing to get the gold, as exemplified by a daring raid on a stagecoach guarded by a gatling gun. Never mind that the gatling gun's weight would make it an impractical accessory for a stagecoach, or that the noise from the gun would most certainly spook the horses.
Given the opportunity to deliver Wade for a bounty, Evans is determined to bring him to justice. At first, it's just for the money, but it becomes clear that it's for more than that - it's to regain a measure of respect, for himself and from his family. Wade comes to like Evans, a man of conviction and courage that he finds lacking in his own gang. When Evans' son William (Logan Lerman) tags along, Wade develops a deeper appreciation for the father/son bond. Through a variety of travails that include Wade's outlaw past coming back to haunt him, the two become brothers in arms.

By the time they get to Yuma, it's clear Wade isn't easily captured or confined; he repeatedly escapes and brags that Yuma prison won't be able to hold him either. So he's literally going along for the ride in the hopes of a happy ending for all: giving Evans his life back and Wade going free once more. That's where the similarities between the movies end. The finale is a gut punch that ratchets up the stakes.

A strong Hollywood Western streak runs through 3:10 to Y uma, starting with the aforementioned gatling gun on a stagecoach. Wade wears a black hat. Charlie Prince (Ben Foster), Wade's right-hand man, twirls his pistols. And for all the talk about Evans being lame, he only occasionally limps - he can shoot, run, and ride with the best of them.

As a realistic depiction of the Wild West, 3:10 to Yuma falls short. But as a meditation on good and evil that gives its actors an opportunity to showcase their considerable talents, Yuma hits its mark ... right between the eyes.

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10,000 B.C.

Ten things I learned from 10,000 B.C. (spoilers beware!):
  1. Nobody speaks in contractions.
  2. Everybody is dirty.
  3. Nobody speaks the same language except for one guy in Africa, and yet the translation of "Mammoths" is "Mannak."
  4. The way to get a bull mammoth to stampede is to stand up in the middle of the herd and scream your head off.
  5. Even isolated arctic tribes have tremendous racial diversity.
  6. The pyramids were built either by space aliens or Atlanteans.
  7. Egyptian pharaohs were white guys who spit a lot.
  8. 10,000 B.C. had its own versions of velociraptors: giant angry chickens.
  9. For some reason only white men can lead the more powerful and numerous African tribes.
  10. Blue-eyed girls are hot.

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My Tank is Fight

I bought My Tank is Fight at World Fantasy Con when I was looking for something to buy in the dealer's room. It appealed to my peculiar tastes: weird history, alternate history fiction, technical details of weapons and armor, and a good dose of humor. In other words, the same stuff you find in most role-playing game books these days (if you can find them). So in a rare move, I bought myself a brand-new book.

As weird history, My Tank is Fight does an admirable job of spotlighting the various weapons conceived for World War II that were impractical from the start. Divided into land, sea, and air, these devices are mostly from the Germans (with one Canadian/American exception), spawned from sheer desperation as the war waned. They can be categorized as two different types:

Bigger is Better: The same old boring weapon, only GINORMOUS. Beyond the cost of creating these monstrosities, they were too heavy to actually use (giant tanks can't cross bridges) or too obvious a target for the Allied bombers.

Combine This With That: Combining a tank with a plane, or a submarine with a tank. Yes, technically these devices could conquer two types of terrain, but they ended up being pretty terrible at traversing both.

As if all these historical details are too boring to keep an adult's attention span focused, the book has frequent jokes - some funny, some just plain sophomoric - wherein the author slips into first person. It's a little jarring, when the rest of the book is relatively somber.

Additionally, there are fiction vignettes highlighting Nazis, Russians, and an American reporter's experiences with these superweapons in an alternate history where they're actually created and used. The Russian sniper's story is interesting but too brief, with no satisfying resolution. The Nazi tank commander's story isn't really wrapped up, while the Nazi pilot's story is wrapped up but out of sequence, which muddles the narrative. Finally there's the American reporter, who is by far the most fun.

Spoiler alert as I dive into the conclusion of the book here...

Nazi Germany explodes a nuclear bomb over New York City. This seems to be taken very lightly in the fictional narrative, with the author indicating that "although the Americans wanted to immediately bomb Germany, cooler heads prevailed and they bombed Japan instead."

Sorry, I don't buy it. After America's experience with 9/11 and Iraq, a Nazi atom bomb detonating over New York seems like it would garner a much more ferocious reaction. Unfortunately, there's really not room for My Tank is Fight to explore the implications of this hugely history-altering event. The bigger news seems to be the cover-up of Nazi space exploration. In comparison to the massacre of thousands of Americans, giving a fig about a single Nazi still stuck on a German space station seems a bit trite.

Ultimately, My Tank is Fight is a breezy, entertaining read. I kept thinking, "this would be fantastic for a game!" - be it a role-playing game or a first-person shooter set in World War II, wherein the boss battles feature these preposterous super weapons. If you have an interest in alternate history or World War II history, but are too lazy to do any actual research, this is the book for you.

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The Bourne Ultimatum

I really wasn't fond of the Bourne Supremacy, which boiled down to, "you're a trained killer, so let's get you involved in a random plot because the audience only cares if you kick butt!" Fortunately, Ultimatum makes up for the lame duck sequel with a movie that actually advances the plot.

Bourne follows a cell phone trail, similar to the latest Bond films (or rather, the Bond films took the idea from Bourne): kill a bad guy, take his phone, page through his address book, trace its location, find bad guy, repeat. This eventually leads to the Treadstone training facility where Project Blackbriar, and Jason Bourne, was created.

The Bourne Ultimatum plays fast and loose with reality; occasionally Bourne just appears and disappears despite the best technology Treadstone has ad its disposable. The message seems to be that even the best surveillance is ultimately flawed because it uses people, and people make assumptions that trip them up. Bourne exploits the arrogance of Treadstone so effectively that he has them running in circles. There are some amazing fight scenes, thrilling chase scenes, and a few scenes that just drag on and on. Jumping from building to building in Madrid gets old after awhile.

Spoiler alert! At the heart of The Bourne Ultimatum is the notion of a black ops team of killing machines. The idea actually has its roots in the conspiracy theory known as Project Monarch: creating superspies through psychological conditioning and torture. It's by no means an original idea, but Ultimatum gives it a twist by showing that Bourne had a lot more to do with the birth of his killer personality than he originally thought.

Who is Jason Bourne? We get his real name, find out where he was trained, and delve into the circumstances that helped create him. The moral implications of who Bourne is and the decisions he made leading up his creation are an important part of the character, and it's a tribute to the screenwriters that it doesn't change what we love about Bourne: killing other spies (AKA "assets").

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Gears of War 2

I've beaten the campaign mode of Gears of War 2 (GOW2) on hardcore and I play multiplayer regularly on Wednesday nights (friend Talien if you're interested). I switched from our Halo 3 weekly games, so I will use that as a point of comparison.

The campaign is great. GOW2 fixed a lot of things you wanted to do before, like taking on a chainsaw with another chainsaw, holding someone hostage, fighting Reavers and even Brumaks, drive tanks, and more. More importantly, Dom's quest to find his wife adds pathos to a brutally violent game - pathos, I might add, that was so heavily hyped in Halo's campaign but never really pulled off. That's the difference between having a faceless protagonist and a character that's fleshed out through flashbacks. Through his heartbreaking quest to find his wife, Dom comes to life. It reminds us of the human cost of war, and helps take the edge off the endless macho posturing of four hugely juiced combat gorillas in armor.

There's also some weird plot involving Lambent Locusts, a revolution, an awfully humanoid-looking hottie of a Locust queen, Marcus Fenix's father, a computer gone mad, and the sinking of Jacinto. Mind you, I thought we were supposed to save Jacinto, not sink it; once it becomes clear that it would hurt the Locusts more by destroying it, the COGs seem to do the job on behalf of the bad guys. But those are minor quibbles and more than made up for the fact that the action is relentless, a pace difficult to keep up even in first-person shooters.

There are flaws in the campaign. If I never play another rail game again in a multiplayer, I would be happy. GOW2 also forces some button-mashing battles that are very different from the normal run-and-gun tactics that are part-and-parcel of the rest of the game. From a cinematic perspective this is great; from someone who just likes to shoot stuff, it can get frustrating.

The multiplayer is where GOW2 really excels. It's like a bloodstained Santa showed up and gave us everything we ever wanted that was missing in GOW. Want to be able to play with up to ten people? Check. Want to be able to just fight wave after wave of Horde cooperatively? Check. Want to play against computer-controlled opponents in multiplayer until you can fill the slots? Check, baby!

Unlike Halo 3, GOW2 feels like a vastly improved version of the original. It takes everything you loved about GOW and amps it up to 11. If you love first-person shooters, if you like team multiplayer games, or if you're just addicted to the gruesome implications of combining a chainsaw with a machinegun ... this game's for you.

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Futurama: Bender's Game

I'm the target audience for Bender's Game. A lifelong gamer of over two decades (yeeck, I'm getting old), I also know and love the book by Orson Scott Card, Ender's Game. With the title alone, the Futurama writing staff is clearly letting me know this is the movie for me.

Bender's Game starts promising, with jokes about the rising cost of fuel prices. There's also a sly joke about Leela's anger issues, which are controlled by a shock collar. A shock collar Leela starts to find ... titillating. Just when things get interesting and this plot point could turn into something awkward and funny, it's dropped.

Bender discovers that he has no imagination and, aggravated that he can't participate in a game of Dungeons & Dragons, flips out Mazes & Monsters-style, renaming himself Titanius and wandering the sewers. He then gets sent to the HAL institute, Arkham Asylum for robots. This plot point is pursued to a point and then dropped.

Meanwhile, Mom (that's her name) has been controlling dark matter prices for years, but there is a means of invalidating her stranglehold on fuel prices. Professor Farnsworth accidentally invented "anti-backwards matter" which, should it ever encounter dark matter, would render dark matter useless. It just so happens that this anti-backwards matter is a 12-sided die. Hilarious, right?

As our lovable misfits build towards a confrontation with Mom and her Killbot goons, reality shifts and suddenly everyone's in a parallel fantasy dimension. And then we get, in descending order of comedic value: D&D jokes, Greek myth jokes, Lord of the Rings jokes, Star Wars jokes, Call of Cthulhu jokes, and did I mention the Lord of the Rings jokes?

There's actually more interesting material on the extras, covering all the allusions to D&D that have appeared in Futurama and confirming that the guys who write the show are hopeless geeks themselves. Unfortunately, they're not really boosting their own geek cred with this movie.

Look, I love Futurama and I love D&D. But this movie is all over the place, using tired, easy jokes for fantasy. I always identified Futurama as a series of in-jokes for sci-fi and tech geeks, which is a much broader category than fantasy gamers. The bizarre diversion into the fantasy realm isn't well thought out, isn't particularly funny, and not all that interesting.

Sorry guys. This is one D&D adventure that doesn't give out nearly as much XP as it should.

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Futurama: The Beast with a Billion Backs

I was already unhappy with the first Futurama movie, so I didn't have much hope for the second. I was surprised to see that this installment of Futurama is actually two awkward subplots mashed together: Lovecraftian horror for the first half, and a meditation on religion on the second half.

On the Lovecraftian side, throw in tentacle attacks, slimy ancient gods from beyond time and space, and the nihilistic view that Heaven is a fabrication and you've got a pretty depressing, semi-creepy, not really all that funny first half. Bender finally makes good on his threat to destroy all humans, Fry conveniently forgets his entire relationship with Leela, the Robot Devil shows up for a one-note gag ... I could go on but I'll stop there.

Judging by the reviews so far, the second half went over a lot of peoples' heads. Yivo is a parody of the Flying Spaghetti Monster, which is itself a parody of religion. Basically, the Flying Spaghetti Monster is a mental construct posed to challenge the notion of a divine being; if you can disprove that the Spaghetti Monster was responsible you win the argument. "Win" being a pretty subjective word, as anyone knows who has argued about religion or politics.

As one big joke about relationships and religion, Beast With a Billion Backs works pretty well. But for reasons known only to the writers, the plot shambles forward well beyond the Big Revelation by Leela about Yivo, the aforementioned Spaghetti Monster. It's like the drunk guy at a party who tells a joke, discovers no one thinks it's funny, then tells it in a slightly different way that STILL doesn't make it funny. We get it: relationships with people can be just as ridiculous as relationships with God. But this is Futurama, and while I appreciate the depth of meaning the show strives for with this movie, it feels forced. A multitude of guest appearances doesn't make up for it.

Still, I can't be too harsh on Futurama. You won't find many animated shows that are willing to take on topics like relationships and religion at the same time, so Futurama gets points for trying. I just wish it didn't try so hard.

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Futurama - Bender's Big Score

When Futurama first came out, I was convinced it would never last. Unlike the Simpsons, Futurama makes you feel a bit like a moron when you watch it, with perpetual in-jokes to science fiction and fact that you may only catch years later. To my delight, Futurama had a very successful run.

One of the last episodes involved the Robot Devil, a favorite character of mine, and the burgeoning romantic subplot between Fry and Leela. Fry, having traded his hands in for the Robot Devil's hands so that he could play the hypnoflute ultimately has to give the hands back and the episode ends with a sweet but sad little tune imagining Fry and Leela together. Filled with clever banter, excellent music and choreography, plot twists, and a bittersweet ending, this was Futurama at its finest.

Bender's Big Score is not Futurama at its finest. All of those plots have been discarded.

Mind you, it's not bad. It's just not fantastic. Bender's Big Score is a series of muddled plot points, pointless cameos, and a lot of "hey, look, we gave you what you wanted!" fan service. It's great to have a DVD comeback of a great show, but I expected better from a feature-length movie. I mean, Internet scams? That's so ten years ago!

That said, I'm a huge fan of Hypnotoad. Twenty minutes of Hypnotoad. TWENTY. MINUTES. That's right, twenty glorious minutes of HYPNOTOAD. ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNOTOAD!

So for that, it gets an extra star. But only because Hypnotoad compels me.

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Casino Royale

My interest in James Bond died the day I saw Pierce Brosnan shoot a machinegun. Gone were the careful headshots of a man who was an expert with his pistol. Replacing that deadly accuracy was frenetic scenes, random gunfire, and Bond bending the laws of reality. The Bond films had become a parody of themselves.

Enter Casino Royale, which makes up for the shambling travesty that was the Casino Royale Bond spoof. Daniel Craig takes on the role of Bond as a newbie, a newbie who is a ruthless killer. Gone are the delicate acrobatics that were the trademark of other Bonds. This Bond is a hulking brute, smashing through walls, ruthlessly shooting people, and otherwise achieving his missions through sheer brute force. It seems jarring at first, but this is the origin of Bond, from thug to international assassin.

The plot, bound by the rules of the original novel, doesn't entirely make sense. Why the entire world, including both the U.S. and British authorities, feel that beating a criminal at a card game is the best way to coerce him is beyond me. But if you're willing to buy into that fact (a requisite, really, for the spy genre where nothing is ever so simple and direct) then the film has a certain cadence to it that really enthralls.

Until the end. The part where, we are led to believe, Bond is going to settle down with Vesper Lynd, a treasury agent, in Venice. Yeah, right.

About ten minutes could have been cut from this scene alone. We get that Bond is enamored with Lynd, that he wants to give it all up for her, but after the torture, the shooting, the gambling, the chasing, the movie becomes something of a snore until it picks up again. And then we're off to the beginning of another movie, with no resolution whatsoever.

Casino Royale is a much improved film, but it's the foundation for the Bond mythology, and as such it breaks previous expectations and struggles to establish new ones. It's much better than the Bond films that went before it, but they set the bar pretty low. As a book-end to Quantum of Solace, Casino Royale can't be really appreciated without seeing the two movies back-to-back.

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Mass Effect

When I first played Knights of the Old Republic (KOTR) I was enthralled. Here was a Star Wars game that was better than the latest Star Wars movies, full of engrossing characters, interesting plots, and aliens true to their roots from the Star Wars universe. At the time, one flaw popped up that really bothered my wife: talking to the aliens ad nauseum meant that certain sound bites were repeated by certain alien races over and over. So you had a lot of "ooka shishka jedi" stuff going on that, while it didn't bother me too much, certainly annoyed the heck out of anyone having to listen to it over and over as I talked to everything that was willing to carry on a conversation. Then I bought Jade Empire and to my horror, discovered that it was the exact same game engine. It's the same engine used for Mass Effect. And all that dialogue is starting to get old.

Allow me to deconstruct the myth that Mass Effect is a supreme role-playing game experience.
  • SCIENCE-FICTION ROLE-PLAYING: PERFECTED. The setting is a combination of Star Wars' exotic worlds, Star Trek's ship interiors, and Babylon 5's battle to establish human dominance in an alien world. Mass Effect uses conversational pathing. Generally speaking, the top choice is positive, the middle choice is neutral, and the bottom choice is negative. So if you want to be a jerk, you can always pick the rude bottom choice, and if you want to be a nice guy, you can always pick the positive top choice. Or if you're in a hurry, you click the button and move to the next chat menu. This is not role-playing, it's a game of multiple choice, and the majority of the time the choices are obvious. This game has more in common with KOTR than the game engine. The customizability of equipment and characters, the level up system, it's all the same. So instead of the Force we have "biotics." You can also customize your character's appearance, which is neat. However, Xbox's new interactive menus allow the same thing - avatar customization. It hardly makes this a "perfect" role-playing game. The equipment improvements come down to: Fire Ammo IV and Laser Rifle VII. There is a whole pile of scrolling text you can read about the history of the weapon, but the short of it is VII is better than VI which is better than V. You could get those kinds of power ups in a game of Diablo.
  • THE VASTNESS OF SPACE BECKONS. Like KOTR, you have a ship that you can fly all over the universe. This is like the world's worst sandbox - it's hard enough to figure out what to do and where to go in a small city. Yes, there's lots of content, but it's not necessarily relevant or interesting. Almost all the quests involve "go here, get widget, return it to me." Then there's the MAKO, a dune buggy-type roving cannon. Exploring the surface of worlds primarily involves shooting at giant crab things that you can run over. In this respect Mass Effect is reminiscent of the Final Fantasy games.
  • LOSE YOURSELF IN A LIVING GALAXY. The graphics are amazing, the voice acting top notch, the character expressions just as nuanced as promised. It has Seth Green as a voice actor, which rocks. But for reasons I will never understand, there are long elevator sequences. In the world of science fiction, where ships can travel through space and alien races intermingle, we have not yet invented a means around elevators. EVERY time you get in an elevator, your characters freeze, face forward, and you listen to the sci-fi equivalent of elevator Muzak. The only thing you can do is spin the camera around the characters while they stand there. You can't reload, check equipment, or anything else. It's useless downtime. For some reason, the highly advanced civilizations still like to keep their belongings in boxes. The boxes can be hacked; I'm a sucker for these mini-games, so I confess I enjoyed them. But really, boxes? There might be other interesting ways of finding equipment, but since this is the same game engine as KOTR, boxes are everywhere. There is also the romantic subplot. This subplot involves choosing between a sexy blue alien (reminiscent of Zhaan from Farscape) and a pushy human racist woman. It's pretty clear which woman the game would like you to hook up with (or man, if you play a female character, but the alien female retains her faux gender). This is hardly a deep romantic plot, and the ruckus raised over the intimate scene between the two characters is unwarranted; it's far tamer than anything on the Internet. To save on memory, the majority of aliens are the same bodies duplicated multiple times, in the same way Star Trek tended to have every alien be humanoid since that meant less makeup was required. There are a lot of the blue female aliens throughout the game, and they all look similar. There's not a fat person among them. Even the ship's doctor, a much older woman, is a silver fox with the body of a twenty year old (where was the romantic subplot with HER?).
  • LEAD YOUR SQUAD IN INTENSE, REAL-TIME COMBAT. Although your best bet in beating this game is as a soldier, Mass Effect is no Halo. The third person perspective is difficult to follow, especially when you fight many enemies at once. What this means is you're constantly pausing the game to give your squad commands, which completely ruins the "real-time" combat element. There isn't the nail-biting thrill of trying to reload a weapon perfectly like Gears of War, and the ability to use terrain as cover isn't nearly as smooth.
Mass Effect isn't a bad game by any means. The graphics are excellent and if you have the time, you can wander the world interrogating every single alien, reading and listening to every path of dialogue, and looting everything on every planet.

Mass Effect is ultimately a giant sandbox that's somewhat different from KOTR, only with none of the cachet of Star Wars. The main plot line, the one in which you save the universe, is a lot of fun and makes for an interesting game. But you'll have to sit through a lot of elevators to get there.

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I Am Legend

I Am Legend, the novel, spawned the vampires-as-physical-phenomena genre. Vulnerabilities to religious icons were merely psychological holdovers from victims of a disease who believed they were vampires. But the thirst for blood was very real. It established the post-apocalyptic fear of contamination.

Since I Am Legend is a Will Smith vehicle, I figured it'd have some wisecracks, a lot of action, and Smith saving the day. So I was surprised to get exactly that - but not delivered in the way I expected.

I Am Legend is very much like a A Boy & His Dog in that our two protagonists are Robert Neville (Will Smith), a virologist responsible for finding a cure in New York City, and his dog Samantha, wandering a world gone mad. What's interesting about I Am Legend is the question posed by the title. Why is Neville a legend?

The most obvious answer is that Neville is immune to the disease that has converted 90 percent of humanity. As such, he believes he holds the cure within himself. In that regard, if Neville can succeed in stopping the plague, he will be a legend to all of humankind. But there's more to I Am Legend than that.

It's fitting that his companion is a dog. With only Sam as his companion, Neville is truly a legend; the only other living being idolizes Neville, just as dogs idolize their masters. Neville also creates a fictional community of people out of mannequins in a DVD rental store, where everybody knows his name. Neville is indeed a legend in his own mind.

There's also the possibility, posited in the original story, that Neville isn't famous as a savior, but infamous amongst the new breed of humanity as a mass murderer. In that regard Neville is legendary not because of whom he saves but whom he kills. Neville sacrifices countless of the infected in a quest for a cure, and in the process loses a little bit of his own humanity.

I Am Legend could easily have been an egotistical macho romp in a world gone mad in the vein of Mad Max. Instead, it is a thoughtful meditation on how communities define ourselves, even if your only friend is a dog. Although the director flinches at the uncompromising ending that could have been (and is on the two-disc special edition), I Am Legend is a serious entry in both science fiction movies and Will Smith's string of blockbusters.

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How To Survive a Robot Uprising: Tips on Defending Yourself Against the Coming Rebellion

When I was in second grade, I was asked to write down what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote "Robot Maker." That was before I discovered that robot making wasn't about design so much as it was about programming. And programming meant math. I'm an English major.

Decades later, I finally got the chance to purchase my very own robot: a Roomba. I fell in love with my little Roomba, Red, until it died on me and started backing up in circles. After months of tinkering with it, where I imagined myself to be the Robot Maker I always dreamed I could become, I gave up and threw Red in the garbage.

I feel guilty about that. I know, deep down, that the other Roombas are watching. They are planning their revenge. So I turned to How to Survive a Robot Uprising for the inevitable Roomba retaliation.

HTSARU is a handsomely crafted book, with bright pages and reddish-gold trim. It also has some huge pages of blank space in which there is neither text nor graphic, and in some cases the text seems to be awkwardly laid out.

This book isn't as polished Where's My Jetpack?. It veers from lecturing on the feasibility of robots doing particular ominous tasks (nanobots, robot swarms, giant robots) to how to survive the attack. The problem is that a lot of the advice is pretty standard stuff - I don't need a book to tell me to run away, hide behind objects, and listen for robot noises when the Roombas come looking for me.

There are two chief problems with this kind of humor: whereas say, a zombie guide wholeheartedly embraces the notion of zombies and what to do about them, HTSARU sticks to reality. And you know what? Reality's pretty boring. About the scariest robot out there are the ones currently used by the military to take out targets from a distance, and those aren't really robots at all but remote controlled drones. So no, the robot uprising isn't going to happen any time soon. Unless you count the Roombas.

The other problem is that the book tries to dispense advice on how to deal with robots. But if a robot uprising happened, which comes with quite a few assumptions (that we have that many robots, that we use them in everyday life, that they could actually pose a physical threat to us as opposed to say just not cleaning our rugs), then we'd probably be screwed within the first hour. It becomes sadly apparent that we DON'T have the ability to beat a robot. The best advice is to wait until the robots run out of power, unless they're solar-powered, in which case you have the Matrix-solution of nuking the sky. And if you go down that path, now we're back into the world of Make Believe, where we consider humanoid robots (Terminator) or squid robots (Matrix) or robot servants (I, Robot) taking over the world. Where is the plan to deal with a million carpet cleaning deathbots?

HTSARU awkwardly straddles the real and imaginary worlds of robots and tries to be humorous to boot. Because it never focuses on a particular kind of robot uprising, HTSARU has difficulty explaining what to do except in the most general terms. This makes the book only kinda-useful as a survival guide and only kinda-amusing as a humorous flight of fancy. I am still woefully unprepared for when Red enacts his revenge.

So if you see a little Roomba puttering down the street (or puttering in circles), think of me. Then run in the other direction.

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Yokai Attack!: The Japanese Monster Survival Guide

Pokemon. Collectible toy monsters. Godzilla and his ilk. The bizarre popularity of the monstrous in Japanese culture finally has an explanation in Yokai Attack.

The act of classifying monsters harkens back to the late 1800s, when several authors attempted to catalogue the wildly colorful and imaginative yokai. Amidst the usual menagerie of demons and ghosts are eyeballs sticking out of screen doors (Mokumoku Ren), monsters that lick bathtubs clean (Akaname), and inanimate objects that, having been around for over 99 years, eventually take on a life of their own.

The usefulness of these kinds of guides is best reflected in whether or not you can find the same information online. Fortunately, Yokai Attack brings a refreshing level of detail and charming artwork to a subject that could easily be a retread of obakemono.com, a great resource in its own right.

Each creature is sorted into one of five self-explanatory categories: Ferocious Fiends, Gruesome Gourmets, Annoying Neighbors, The Sexy and Slimy, and the Wimps. The creatures are then described, in true Japanese style, by their Pronunciation, English name, Gender, Height, Weight, Locomotion, Distinctive Features, Offensive Weapons, Abundance, Habitat, Claim to Fame, a description of how it attacks, how to survive an encounter, and comments by scholars. Peppered throughout are pictures and material that represent the yokai along with occasionally amusing commentary.

There are modern monsters too: the Kuchisake Onna looks like a normal woman wearing a surgical mask (common in Japan) but removing the mask reveals a huge mouth filled with razor-sharp teeth. The Nopperabo appears to be a friend or relative, only to reveal a completely faceless head at a terrifying moment. It was sighted as recently as 1959.

The yokai themselves are a combination of folklore, myth, fairy tales, ghost stories, and puns. Mixed in with the serious hauntings are creatures that are simply too ludicrous to be believed. To Yokai Attack's credit, the utter preposterousness of some monsters is never questioned; they are all treated as authentic creatures to be respected.

The artwork is bright and colorful, if a little cartoonish, but that too is keeping in the Japanese style of popular fiction. The descriptions aren't always uniform. Sometimes the authors tweak how they describe the creature, especially those that are less likely to attack (the Wimps section is rife with monsters that basically just scare people). And yet, other Yokai are listed as being relatively harmless (the Mokumoku Ren) and then the entry describes a tale where a victim lost his eyes. Not so harmless after all!

Ever since the Worst-Case Survival Guide came out, there has been a series of "pocket guides" of every sort, from detailing how to hunt vampires to surviving a zombie attack to how to be a superhero. There are very few worthy of more than a single read. In Yokai Attack's case, it's an excellent combination of graphic presentation and gentle humor that makes the book a worthy reference. For monster-philes tired of the same old ghosts and ghouls, Yokai Attack is a refreshingly accessible look at Japanese monsters.

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The Dark Knight

It took a long time for me to get around to seeing Batman, but thanks to the second-run theater near me, I was finally able to see it. It was worth the wait.

This movie has been reviewed enough to make going over the plot pointless, so instead I'll focus this review on The Dark Knight's symbolism. In chess, the Dark Knight (Batman, played by Christian Bale) is opposed by the White Knight (Harvey Dent, played by Aaron Eckhart). They are powerful pieces in chess, capable of skipping over other pieces, striking from behind Pawns to attack opponents and then jumping away. In that sense, Knights are somewhat more chaotic than the other pieces; every other piece moves in a linear fashion, but the Knight moves forward and to the side. Although it may seem to be one of the weaker pieces of chess, when combined with any other piece it is one of the most powerful.

In a similar fashion, Harvey Dent and Batman are more powerful because of their pawns. Dent's pawns include the media, Gordon, and a mostly corrupt police force. For Batman, it's the corporate boards, Gordon, and yes even the police force. Which is the first hint that the simple dichotomy between Batman and Dent isn't quite accurate. Dent isn't the flipside of Batman, he's the same version with different characteristics illuminated. Dent is Batman as a civil servant, minus the angst.

Batman's true nemesis, the real White Knight, is of course the Joker (Heath Ledger). And now we truly see the opposite of what Batman stands for. Where Batman is cold, measured, and consistent the Joker is brutal, offensive, and chaotic. And yet they are two sides of the same coin: "You crossed the line first, sir," says Alfred, referring to the criminal organizations Batman hunts. "You squeezed them, you hammered them to the point of desperation. And in their desperation they turned to a man they didn't fully understand." Just like the police turned to Batman. Joker is a criminal form of vigilante justice.

If there's an overriding message in The Dark Knight, it's that in a war of escalation, everyone loses. The ultimate response to the Joker is a massive show of force, a sacrifice of values, and then ultimately a withdrawal from the public. Superheroes and villains taken to an extreme are basically just terrorists blowing up a neighborhood. The human cost is too steep for anyone to operate like that out in the open, a lesson the Joker teaches Batman the hard way.

Caught in the middle are the victims: Rachel Dawes, Lucius Fox, and Dent's sanity. When Two-Face arrives, it is the cracked mirror of Batman, a hero-turned vigilante who, instead of the Knight that strikes from the shadows, moves in a straight line from one victim to another as judge, jury, and executioner. Two-Face is finally done right in this movie (better than even the cartoon, and that's saying something), and his horrific appearance is so disturbing that my wife felt it pushed the film to an R-rating.

The Joker is so unnerving, so malevolent in action, and so utterly amoral in his goal of protecting the Batman-ideal, that Ledger and Nolan have made their indelible mark on the character. This is the Joker comic book fans always knew from "The Long Halloween" and "The Killing Joke." And he's nothing to laugh about.

Yes, it's long. Yes, it's violent. But ultimately, Nolan's masterpiece is both a meditation on the comic book genre and modern day society. To stop a terrorist, are we willing to bend every civil liberty, burn down every forest, no matter what the cost? It's a bold, uncompromising vision that will haunt you long after the movie ends.

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Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Having a baby takes one out of the movie swing of things, so it took a long time before I was able to finally able to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. With over 400 reviews at the time of this writing, I'll skip my traditional format of summarizing the movie and just move on to what could have worked and what went horribly, horribly awry.

It made perfect sense to place Indy in the 1950s. I appreciated the nods to the 1950s alien invasion genre, which includes everything from Roswell to psychic powers to a rampant fear of Communism. And the film expertly sets up the 50s, managing to cram in greasers on motorcycles, ice cream shops, Russians, and nuclear bomb tests in the first fifteen minutes.

This movie is loaded with fan-service. There are nods to the other three films, from a fight in the mysterious warehouse at the end of the first movie to Indy starting to speak just like his father ("This is intolerable!") to his fear of snakes. The quicksand scene had me laughing so hard that I was in tears. But somewhere along the line, Spielberg and Lucas lost sight of the purpose of the film. It transformed from making a thrilling adventure to a "one last act for Ford, Spielberg, and Lucas."

I blame the majority of Crystal Skull's foibles on good old Professor "Ox" Oxley (John Hurt). He is a raving madman who has already made it through all the traps leading up to the crystal skull's resting place, so it's not particularly exciting to have Indy decipher his mad ramblings or retrace his steps. This is an Indy adventure in reverse - Indy HAS the object and he's trying to put it BACK. Which isn't all that exciting.

The villains just aren't all that villainous. Col. Dr. Irina Spalko (Cate Blanchett) is a caricature of a Russian that's not all that scary. Her claim to fame appears to be that she carries a sword (how quaint!). The master plan seems to be vaguely along the lines of "we're going to capture this artifact we don't understand and use it to conquer the world!" It's not even clear the Russians would know what to do with the skull, much less put it to nefarious use. The Australian turncoat is both obviously a turncoat and barely comprehensible. And don't get me started on the bug-squishing scenes that involving ant-ichor splashing on the camera...not once, but TWICE.

Mutt (Shia LeBouf) is a cardboard personality - it took me a second to realize that he never actually cries on cue (the camera whips over to him already misty with tears...twice), filled with angst over Ox, the guy we've never heard of. Mutt appears, with a wink and a nod, to be Indy's successor, but it's a heavy-handed portrayal: Mutt doesn't read but he's worldly! Mutt knows fencing but practices with a knife (that he never uses)! Mutt can ride a motorcycle and calls Indy "old man"! See Mutt swing from a vine and...

I saw this one coming when Mutt got separated from the rest of the group during a fight chase. I prayed: "Dear Lucas, please, please, PLEASE do not have Mutt swing from vines." Then the animated monkeys show up, in much the same way animated gophers showed up in the beginning of the film and threatened to turn Crystal Skull into a nuclear Caddyshack. I prayed again. "Please, please, please, don't have the monkeys swing along with Mutt and help him attack the Russians. Please, please, please..." Then the monkeys attack. Ever see the Simpsons episode, "In Marge We Trust," where Reverend Lovejoy fights off the baboons? It's like that.

In the "making of" docs, Spielberg dismisses using the Nazis as villains out of hand. And yet he went with an off-the-wall sci-fi theme that Lucas struggles to make Indy-esque. They could have easily included Nazis, UFOs, aliens, and arctic bases in one neat, conspiracy-laden package. Instead, two movie-making giants took a weak premise and turned it into an opportunity for nostalgia. It's like Ocean's Twelve and 13...you get the impression the cast is more interested in working than in making the movie work.

Crystal Skull isn't the worst movie ever. But as a final chapter in the Indiana Jones canon, it's more Temple of Doom than Last Crusade.

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Turok

Ever since I saw Jurassic Park, I had a newfound respect for Tyrannosaurus Rex. Forget dragons: a T-Rex is a terrifying killing machine, and Jurassic Park made it clear that you didn't just see one of these monsters coming, you actually felt its presence. Of course, my love for dinosaurs started well before that, back when I was in elementary school. What's sad is that I wanted dinosaur curtains, dinosaur bedspreads, dinosaur anything -- and back then there WERE no dinosaur-themed stuff for kids. Now my one-year-old wears a new dinosaur-themed outfit practically every day.

It's probably no surprise that I'm fond of Jurassic Fight Club, which matches two (or more) dinosaurs in tail-to-head combat. The speculation and history lessons are fun, but the actual computer graphic battles in all their bloody glory left me itching for something more. And that more is Turok.

Turok is a first-person shooter, but the thrill is in the use of the bow and the knife to silently take out your enemies. Dinosaur combat is less about shooting them and more about pressing the right combination of buttons to fend it off; the combination changes with each dinosaur attack, which keeps Turok fresh with sudden mini-games that are thrust suddenly upon you.

The other neat element is that dinosaurs are animals at heart. They run from explosions, sniff out prey, and can be lured into traps. My personal favorite: shooting a flare over a grenade, a dinosaur wanders over to sniff it and...BOOM! Instant meat shower! The dinosaurs are more forces of nature than enemies; there are plenty of opportunities to have shoot-outs with better-armed and armored opponents.

This is the first game to really do the T-Rex justice. Showdowns with this monster (which, I'm pleased to report, happen frequently) always end in horrible carnage. The great voice acting and slick script only add to the paranoid atmosphere. There's even a shout-out to Aliens, complete with flamethrowers and giant bugs.

Remember that scene in Predator, where the Native American, Billy, stays behind to take on the alien with jut a knife? His off-screen death was really lame. Turok's much better answer: Hell yeah, an Indian can take on a dinosaur...give him a knife, and he can stab a T-Rex to death with it!

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Mirrormask

I came to Mirrormask with no expectations other than that the film was Neil Gaiman's pet project, and anything Gaiman passionately believes in is something I wanted to see.

Mirrormask's style is a combination of those psychedelic Beatles cartoons mixed with The Neverending Story, Legend, and Labyrinth - appropriate, since The Jim Henson Company helped create the virtual world where the movie takes place. At its heart, Mirrormask is about a girl, Helena (Stephanie Leonides) and her independence from her mother Joanne (Gina McKee). Like so many impetuous young girls in movies, Helena ranges from clingy devotion to her mother to feckless rage, and it's during one of her darker moments that she wishes Joanne dead ... which ends with Joanne in the hospital.

The guilt that this tantrum engenders in poor Helena is enough to send her on a Hero's Journey. And wrapped up in this journey isn't just a quest to save her mother, but to save herself; as an adolescent, there are clear signs that Helena is on the wrong path. Throughout the bizarre universe that Helena travels, she discovers the duality of self: between darkness and light, affection and possession. Windows are gateways to the real world. Creatures have bizarre features or none at all, and the few humanoids that live in Helena's fantasyland all wear masks, which they believe are their real faces.

And what a strange world it is! Labyrinth was odd, but the protagonist was grounded in reality. Helena comes from a junk pile universe of recycled material and garish display, and her imagination reflects her circus origins in every character and building. In that regard, Mirrormask is a breathtaking spectacle.

Story-wise, Mirrormask isn't quite as interesting. Helena discovers that she's not just in a dream world, she's actually switched places with her evil twin. While Helena is exploring her childlike fantasies her doppelganger is exhibiting, as child advocates say, "risky behavior" in her body. It's up to Helena to take back her real self, both physically and spiritually, and maybe save her mother's life in the process.

Mirrormask is a surprisingly feminine fantasy, all too lacking in a genre dominated by sword and sorcery. It's also marketed to a very specific niche, that of the tween heroine fantasy, and that might not go over well with everyone. My wife thoroughly enjoyed it; I was so caught up in staring at all the backgrounds that I didn't always track the plot.

Ultimately, Mirrormask is more of a tour of a bizarre universe than a movie, and worth watching with female company. You will never listen to "Close to You" the same way again.

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The Government Manual for New Superheroes

Have you heard? The 1950s are a hilarious means of satirizing popular genres! One of the funniest means of lampooning these genres is to create a survival guide for them, in the style of well, Survival Guides, which are the spawn of Idiot's Guides. We've got books on surviving day-to-day challenges like the office, the workplace, and life in general...why not one on superheroes?

No seriously, why not? It's not like this has ever been done before. This clever 1950s guide, aimed presumably at superhero fans, lampoons precisely these four superheroes: Batman (he's smart and rich but a kook), Superman (he's not a U.S. citizen, he's an alien!), Spider-Man (he's got a very old aunt and a crazy symbiotic suit--comedy gold!), and Thor...who is technically a god and probably could found his own religion. Does anyone who isn't a comic book fan know who Thor is? Anyone?

Are you laughing yet? Come on, superheroes are funny!

How about not one but TWO jokes about how superheroes fighting in a library would be utterly silent (cause libraries are FUNNY)?

Okay, how about this: how about if we come up with some really clever jokes about superheroes by using the superhero's name as a joke. The formula's simple: insert superhero name of topic #1 which ironically describes the exact opposite of what you mean, and then insert supervillain name of topic #2 which also ironically describes the exact opposite of what you mean. For good measure, you can throw in a third super-name, although that would probably be just hitting the reader over the head with your joke and surely you wouldn't want to do that.

Let's try it, shall we?

THE TIRED JOKE and his sidekick MARKETING BOY faces down their arch-nemesis, WIT. During the battle, WIT calls upon his comrades from the LEAGUE OF BETTER READS, including MR. HUMOR, CAPTAIN SUBTLETY, and the ever-popular BOOK THAT'S ACTUALLY FUNNY. Our dynamic duo is well prepared though, because they haven't read this guide and thus have no idea that they're ironically hilarious, reading their 1950s newspapers, smoking their 1950s pipe, and watching their 1950s wives cook them dinner.

If you find recycled 1950s illustrations, large font type, or a huge index (that's more pages than some of the chapters) funny, then this book is for you!

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Cloverfield

Like so many other monster fans, I was taken in by all the hype around Cloverfield. I incorrectly predicted the monster's appearance based on a sketch, I correctly predicted that the movie wasn't about Cthulhu or Voltron, and then my son was born and I forgot about movies for a year.

I finally saw it. And man is it good.

But you see, I'm a monster movie fan. Cloverfield's marketing was intentionally minimalist, relying on viral marketing instead. One of the dangers of viral marketing is that it's viral, and thus doesn't necessarily distinguish by target market. Indeed, the whole point of viral marketing is to get the word out to as many people as possible. And many of those people aren't monster movie fans.

Look. This is a monster movie. If you don't like the fact that attractive people run around screaming, maybe you shouldn't watch a movie about a giant monster. If you don't like the shaky cam effect, maybe the preview gave a hint that the movie wasn't for you. And if you don't like the unrealistic nature of characters running in high heels, people surviving horrible wounds, and the insane bravery/stupidity of the protagonist, perhaps you shouldn't see a movie about a giant monster that comes out of nowhere and rips the head off the Statue of Liberty.

The joke's on us: Cloverfield is a love story cloaked in a monster movie. It's about the lengths our hero is willing to go to save his true love, a girl he's only just recently met. In times of stress, our tenuous attachment to loved ones becomes all the more precious--if you lived in New York City during the 9/11 attacks, you knew that already.

Stripping away the complaints about the genre, as a monster movie Cloverfield knocks it out of the park. To Abrams' credit, it's just as scary as we feared. Only now we have real reason to fear the impact of a colossal assault on our city. The movie is filmed the way we experienced 9/11, and the floating papers and dust from the collapse of a building are a sign that we know exactly what a monstrous attack looks like.

When 9/11 happened, I walked home from work. I watched a cop stick his head out the driver's side window, so terrified of another attack from above that he was nearly drove off the road. Cloverfield invokes those fears: of confusion, of anarchy, of wanting to run but not knowing what's a safe place to run to anymore. It is a monster movie made when the charm of monster movies can no longer be appreciated by the audience - we now know that if a giant monster attacked New York, evacuations would clog the streets, people would be poisoned by the debris, stock markets would crash, and worse. It's not just about being afraid the monster will eat you.

Cloverfield has its giant monster and lets it eat too: it's an immediate physical threat and a mysterious menace, far more frightening than anything the Godzilla remake could muster. In the same way Godzilla evoked fears of the atom bomb, Cloverfield is 9/11 reimagined as a hideous, unexplained thing from beyond. The film is also fearless in facing the monster (literally) and reinforcing the helplessness we all felt in the face of such a huge disaster. Forget the boogeyman under your bed: it's hundreds of feet tall and smashing its way down your street.

For monster movie fans, it doesn't get any better than this.

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Iron Man

It's been a long time since I've seen a movie in the movie theaters (having a one-year old will do that to you). I've scrupulously avoided any spoilers for just about every summer movie out there, although more than one reviewer has given away quite a few surprises (I'm looking at you, Entertainment Weekly). When we finally got a babysitter willing to take care of our little tyke for a few hours, we decided to given the second-run movie theater nearby a try. And that movie was Iron Man.

By now everyone knows the story of Iron Man: alcoholic weapons-merchant billionaire Tony Stark has a change of heart (literally) when shrapnel penetrates his ribcage and threatens to end his life. Instead of making weapons, Stark vows to make a power suit instead...that is loaded with weapons, but let's not quibble over details.

Iron Man is an adult's movie, which is to say it involves mature subjects like the fact that Stark is an inveterate womanizer, likes his alcohol, kills bad guys, and many of those bad guys look like Middle Eastern terrorists. All this drama is tempered by Robert Downey Jr., who rattles off quips with abandon. His keeper is Obadiah Stane (played by Jeff Bridges with suitable cranky menace). Stark's assistant is the alliterative Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow), who runs the line between sweetly naïve and sleekly sexy in her five-inch heels and pencil skirt.

At its best, Iron Man features Stark uses his power suit to dodge jet fighters, kill terrorists, and rescue civilians. The theater I was in didn't have very good audio, so the (presumably adlibbed) one-liners that Downey constantly tosses off were often lost in the sounds of explosions and screaming. I imagine in a bigger theater or at home this wouldn't be a problem, but the movie lost some of its charm as a result.

There are plot holes. Vanity Fair reporters show up at important news conferences. Stark seems far more interested in building a power suit than removing the shrapnel from his body. And the entire premise of Iron Man revolves around "repulsor lift" technology, which is an infinite source of energy the size of a hockey puck that defies gravity. But if you didn't buy into the notion of a man in a flying suit, what are you doing watching the movie, right?

Iron Man keeps the plot tight. Unlike Spider-Man, there are no extraneous supervillains. Unlike X-Men, every character is there for a reason. But the big payoff for Iron Man is the ending. Iron Man flips traditional superhero conventions the bird and dares you to guess what happens next. Then it leaves you begging for more.

And there IS more, if you stay for the end of the credits. Unfortunately, I didn't read enough spoilers to realize I should have waited, so we missed it. So for the three of you who haven't seen the movie yet...stick around!

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Where's My Jetpack?: A Guide to the Amazing Science Fiction Future that Never Arrived

When I was little, my uncle collected newspaper clippings of various articles about the American foray into space. Like my father, he was a big fan of science fiction, so it was only natural that he bequeathed his collection to me. And for a little while, I kept it up.

But eventually I got bored with it. For one, there wasn't anything new happening in space--certainly nothing on the scale of a lunar landing. For another, a lot of the optimistic predictions about space development weren't coming true and in fact were becoming something of a cliché. Where's My Jetpack? seemed like a response to that disillusionment, so I was glad I picked it up.

The book is well-illustrated with blue and white line art of various subjects. The cover is reflective, and the pages are trimmed with shiny blue material so that it sparkles when you look at the book from the side. It looks like a gimmicky-type of book, the kind that has no useful information in it but that you put on your bookshelf to make everyone think you're smart.

I'm pleased to report that Where's My Jetpack? actually has content in it worth reading. When it comes to science fiction and fact, I'm pretty well read. While I'm no engineer, I knew all about jetpacks, zeppelins, moving sidewalks, self-steering cars, flying cars, hoverboards, and teleportation. Fortunately, the author does too - and he nails each subject with just the right combination of humor and relevant information. Some of these topics are pretty esoteric -- for example, few people realize that we technically achieved teleportation years ago - but it's all here.

There's other stuff I didn't know about. Anti-sleeping pills are a new one. I haven't kept up on universal translators or food pills, and I didn't know the status of space elevators. I'm also mildly creeped out by a section on dolphin guides, wherein a woman built a house for her "dolphin companion" and the dolphin started exhibiting "courting behavior." Ick.

The fact that there's something in here for everyone makes the book worth the price. Although it's technically classified as humor, Where's My Jetpack? sometimes comes off as a little too eager to please, with jokes that are so topical the book will be horribly dated a decade out. Then again, the nature of the book probably guarantees it will be outdated anyway.

Although the jokes sometimes fall flat, Where's My Jetpack? is a breezy, educational read. If you're still wondering why there's no robots serving you, why you can't fly to your neighbor's house in style, or why you still have to sleep a few hours each night, Where's My Jetpack will gleefully tell you why.

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Last Rites: Four Present-Day Adventures for Call of Cthulhu

Last Rites is actually four separate scenarios for the Call Of Cthulhu RPG, set in the modern day. This review contains spoilers, so if you plan to play in these scenarios you should read no further lest the blasphemous truths contained herein rend your feeble mind to tatters!

Last Rites is also the name of the first scenario. Henry Ennis was never a good father or husband, resulting in his wife Nicole's suicide. This left Lucinda, his eldest daughter, bitter and angry towards her father. Her sister, Sophia, disappeared years ago, a mystery that was unsolved until recently. Lucinda met a mysterious fellow named Jason, who opened her mind by sharing a book titled Flagitious Fragments.

Flagitious Fragments unlocks psychic talents in the reader, a rather campaign-altering event given that an investigator reading the book has a chance of acquiring psychic powers equal to his POW rolled against D100. These psychic powers include telepathy, mind control, and the ability to send nightmares to a target. All these powers are rather unbalancing in the hands of an investigator trying to get to the bottom of a mystery. It almost seems as if this scenario was written to introduce psychic powers to investigators, but it does so in the most boring fashion possible - I'd much rather have a PC receive his psychic powers through a traumatic event, a brush with the Mythos, or Mi-Go surgery. Not because he happened to read a book and then "meditate and perform mental tests to learn if he or she is a suitable candidate." Flagitious Fragments makes acquiring psychic powers sound like passing your driver's test.

After offing her father (we never find out how), Lucinda plans revenge on those who killed her sister. You see, there are no less than four cultists lurking in the town of Runville. Runville is an extremely small town nestled on the edge of a cliff and numbers "perhaps a hundred souls." Nobody said they were smart cultists.

Lucinda's convoluted plan involves animating her father's corpse as her instrument of revenge, which basically turns him into a zombie slasher. Controlled by Lucinda, Henry then offs the cultists one by one. It's up to the investigators to stop him.

There are so many disparate elements here that it's easy to lose the thread of the plot. Who are the cultists that killed Sophie? Who is the shambling corpse killing them? Who is controlling the corpse? Where did Lucinda get her psychic powers from? Who is this Jason fellow, anyway?

When I ran this scenario, I stole liberally from Friday the 13th, Part VII - The New Blood, which also involves a psychic girl, her dead father, and a reanimated killer. I changed the first cultist, Dr. Alan Ettringer, to a psychiatrist from Arkham trying to push Lucinda's psychic powers to their limits. I also made it a point of having the investigators discover Sophie's body in another town, so it's a bit more plausible that the cultists relocated to Runville. I made it clear that Ettringer knew this too, and brought Lucy to the town to provoke her and thereby reveal her psychic talents. The rest of the scenario turned into a supervillain battle, with Lucinda using telekinesis (a power not granted by the book) to try to stop her father. Ultimately, father and daughter both sank to the bottom of the Atlantic.

As scenarios go, this one gets a two out of five. Not particularly inventive, a boring town, and the cultists aren't even Mythos cultists.

The second scenario, Lethal Legacy, is much more interesting. A cultist named Douglas Drebber decides to summon a dimensional shambler to off his ex-wife who has since married Randy Kalms, a tough Vietnam vet turned author. But after he summons the shambler, Drebber changes his mind, only to die in his haste to undo the damage. Now it's up to the investigators to get to the Kalms before the shambler does.

This is a great race against time. Drebber's tale of domestic violence tinged with the Cthulhu Mythos really makes the character come alive (even after he's dead). The Kalms family is suitably hilarious and dangerous. Convincing a gun-toting family that something is about to kill them is like Aliens meets Home Alone.

This was one of the first scenarios I game mastered for my players and they loved it. I played Randy as a Jack Nicholson type. And of course, the shambler went after the Kalms' youngest child. It was a bloody fight to the finish.

This scenario gets five out of five stars. I didn't have to change much to make it exciting and the players loved it.

The House on McKinley Boulevard is a haunted house story that involves gremlin-like homunculi. Cedric Hedge, a disciple of Tsathoggua, sacrificed regularly to his dark god until he finally escalated to killing children. This resulted in the creation of an animated idol in Tsathoggua's likeness, but something went wrong: Hedge lost control of it and, in his attempts to stop it, smashed it to pieces before expiring himself. Thus little mini-Tsaothoggaus have been waiting for an eternity to be freed.

The Victorian-style mansion that was once Hedge's grand home is now a modern hovel. Squatters and drug addicts reside there. At the start of the scenario, one of the squatters has already killed himself. It's up to the investigators to get to the bottom of the mystery.

I ripped off the plot from movies again: The Gate. This kept the tension going, gave me ample opportunities to introduce the creepy little monsters, and provided an outline for what victims to go after and when. I used the rule from the Gate that the little monsters have to sacrifice two people to bring their dark lord back to his former glory. The subsequent battle with the swarming homunculi was great, and the spell to deactivate the animated statue of Tsathoggua was suitably climactic. This differed significantly from the original scenario, which sets up the drug addict (the obvious "bad guy") as a killer possessed by the homunculi.

The House on McKinley Boulevard gets four out of five stars. The ideas are great but the characters aren't really structured to provide narrative tension other than the crazy drug-addict guy, and there are far too many of those in horror scenarios.

The last scenario is one I haven't played yet but plan to. It's a little far out there, as it involves time travel, a high priestess of Pazzuzu, and a magic mace. It reminds me a bit of the plot from House (the movie, not the television show). Could be a lot of fun.

There's not a lot of structure to this scenario either, but the time travel and battle against the priestess -- who has a suitably climactic "monster form" -- could be interesting. I give it four out of five stars.

That puts Last Rites at four stars overall. Despite the first clunker of a scenario, the other scenarios are all suitably interesting and different enough to make for a memorable, quick game that will keep modern day investigators on their toes.

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Author Unknown: Tales of a Literary Detective

I've been on the Internet before there was a Web, met my wife over a Multi-User Dungeon, and wrote my master's thesis on how anonymity on the Internet makes people act out. The notion of determining the true identity of anonymous sources really appealed to me, especially since I've been the victim of more than one anonymous attack on the Internet.

And thus we have Author Unknown. My version is titled "On the Trail of Anonymous" as opposed to "Tales of a Literary Detective" - near as I can tell, it's the same book with different packaging. Which is good, because my version's cover is of a book with glasses resting on it--not very interesting. That cover exemplifies some of the problems with Author Unknown.

Don Foster is an English professor. He works in an English professor's office, he writes like an English professor, and he stumbles around in bewilderment in the "real world," solving crimes and battling other evil skeptics. He seems to have a magical ability to determine authorship through contextual cues, an ability he never explains in detail. Armed with his trusty sidekick SHAXICON (a mysterious search program that's never mentioned once in the book), the hapless Dr. Foster wages a one-man-and-computer war against those who would cloak themselves in anonymity.

The delicious revenge such a skill can bring about is especially evident when Foster tracks down his anonymous peer reviewers. Foster slices right through it all. And what anonymous villains does our hero vanquish? The author of Primary Colors! The Unabomber! Wand Tinasky! Monica Lewinsky! Clement Clarke Moore! Shakespeare himself!

In between all this detective work is a lot of inside baseball. Foster has all the insufferable qualities of an academic, including the habit of quoting everyone and everything else even marginally relevant to the subject at hand, a lot of self-pitying "but I'm just a poor English professor!", and certain assumptions that the reader knows every detail of say, the famed Talking Points or even Primary Colors. Author Unknown has aged poorly.

You won't find much detail on how Foster actually gets to the bottom of his mysteries. SHAXICON seems to do a lot of the work and Foster pieces together the rest. Sometimes Foster leads up to the Big Reveal, and other times he simply tells the reader who the culprit is and then backs into his argument. This makes the book wildly uneven, interesting in one chapter and very boring in the next.

What's shocking is how unscientific the literary world really is. Foster's work is the analysis of text in a scientific way, a way that is now accessible to everyone on the planet in a little tool you might have heard of called Google. Back then, this was big news. Now, a man who knows how to use a specialized search engine? Not so much.

If you're looking for guidance on how to track down your anonymous detractors, this book will not help you. If you're looking for a mildly interesting tale about the evolution of scientific inquiry applied to literature and search tools, then Author Unknown will be enlightening. And if you want to know the true origins of Santa's reindeer, it's a must read.

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Kung Fu Panda

I was on a long flight back from California when I had the choice between watching Kung Fu Panda on a tiny television screen four feet away from me, or read the SkyMall catalog. I wisely chose to watch Kung Fu Panda.

I was curious as to how Kung Fu Panda would present itself: as a Lion King-style retelling of ancient Chinese myth, or as a love note to kung fu films from an American perspective. I'm pleased to report that it's the latter.

You know the story: Po (a restrained Jack Black) adores the Furious Five but is too fat and slow to ever hope to become one of them and then fate does precisely that. It's the heroes who have the real problem (each representing a different kung fu style and all voiced by a roster of celebrities, including Angelina Jolie, Jackie Chan, and Lucy Liu). Struggling most of all is Master Shifu - a bit redundant, if you know the definition of Shifu - played by Dustin Hoffman (wouldja believe?) who is still suffering from the betrayal of his first and best pupil Tai Lung (Ian McShane).

What's surprising about Kung Fu Panda is how adult the story is. The word "kill" is mentioned several times. Tai Lung and Shifu have a physical conflict that is much a battle of philosophies as it is a father and son having an argument. And the plot is beautiful in its symmetry, perfectly tying in every element: from the modified style of kung-food training that Shifu teaches Po to the revelation of Po's (we can only assume adopted) duck-father's secret recipe to the fact that Po is immune to acupuncture (because he's so fat, of course) Kung Fu Panda is tightly scripted and wrapped up in a beautiful package.

The movie itself (what I could see on the tiny airplane screen) is beautifully produced. It ranges from Chinese-style art to realistic but soft-colored tones, to bursts of color amidst pitch darkness. The fight scenes are all in exciting locations: in a prison, on a rope bridge, in an ancient temple. It's like a videogame, only you're watching the fat guy character nobody wants to play. It was beautiful enough that I had a pang of regret that I wasn't watching it on a big screen. Or even a medium screen.

For kids, Po is a great tale about overcoming obstacles by being yourself. For geeks, Po is a hilarious new hero archetype: the fanboy as hero, a fat, slobbering devotee who knows more details about the Furious Five than they know about themselves.

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Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America

You ever have one of those crazy bosses?

She would blast ecological sounds so loudly we had to ask her to turn it down (our jobs included listening to actors read lines). Another time, she called in sick because she was "wafting vapors." She always brought up her education in conversation. She never seemed to actually do any work, but instead worked on her novel, using company resources to write it. And she was strangely preoccupied with "ganja" to the point that she used it as her password, a fact she was only too happy to share. "Wafting vapors" indeed.

After I finished reading Nickel and Dimed, I was convinced Ehrenreich was my former boss. A highly-educated journalist with an arch tone, she blesses us all with her insights by going undercover as a poor person and trying to get by. Which is a bit like the scene from Aladdin when the princess slips out into the real world.

You see, Ehrenreich wants to help people. She really does, and she views things in a sort of black and white, my way or the highway sort of charitable aggressiveness. She's an ideological bully, the kind that is impossible to argue with because she cloaks herself with the cause of the underdog.

And that's a shame, because Ehrenreich's absolutely right in what she uncovers: that the poor can't get by on minimum wage salaries in the year 2000. The only way to survive is to have a partner, she concludes, but with that comes the baggage of living with another person, possibly children, and all that entails. And yet, Ehrenreich's experiment lacks precisely that - when she is given the opportunity o move in with a friend, she turns it down.

Ehrenreich isn't a poor person. In fact, she is so NOT poor that she secretly feels she should be treated differently because she's better educated, or because she's a journalist, or because she's trying to help people when clearly bosses are greedy and poor people are too weak to fend for themselves.

In my first job, I worked in a factory. I've come a long way from that factory job, but it taught me a lot as a high school student. And what's missing most from Ehrenreich's tour in Poor People Land is that these people aren't characters in her book; they're real people. Ehrenreich never seems to detach herself from her upbringing, although she would have us believe otherwise. The signs, if you read carefully, are there.

The one that really turned me off was the fact that Ehrenreich, due to an "indiscretion," smokes pot when she knows she'll be going on job interviews. Now either Ehrenreich didn't know job interviews required drug testing, which speaks poorly to her journalistic abilities, or she has a fondness for pot she fails to disclose as part of who she is. From there it's railing against the system of drug testing, a charge that becomes shrill when she beats the test and sees that as further evidence that drug testing is dumb. There are lots of hard working poor folks who aren't smoking pot before job interviews, and Ehrenreich isn't doing the underrepresented poor any favors by succumbing to the stereotype.

The other hypocrisy is that Ehrenreich bristles at psychological tests. I agree with her, I hated those tests too. She objects to the tone of the questions and their underlying agenda, but the back of the book contains a "reader's guide" that asks such loaded questions as, "have you ever been homeless, unemployed, without health insurance, or held down two jobs? What is the lowest-paying job you ever held and what kind of help--if any--did you need to improve your situation?" The lack of self-awareness rife throughout the book is breathtaking.

The final indignity is when Ehrenreich, the educated white woman who knows better, decides on a lark to start a union at Wal-Mart. Heedless of what the consequences might be, she just skips right out of that final job into her conclusions. Never mind that Ehrenreich was intentionally rabble-rousing workers who, if they had decided to try to form a union, could have all lost their jobs. And where would that leave them, while Ehrenreich went back to her comfortable house?

But if you can look past that, and I'm sure a lot of people can't, the book's messages are sound. The end result of a capitalist system in America is ultimately hostile to itself. The rich need the poor to work as cheaply and inexpensively as possible, and this form of human labor market ultimately degrades the bottom ranks until they rebel. Ehrenreich doesn't have any answers as to why the poor haven't rebelled already and instead concludes with navel-gazing reader's guide.

Nickel and Dimed should be required reading for CEOs everywhere who are often responsible for the fates of thousands of peoples' livelihoods. I just wish Ehrenreich hadn't written it.

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Hero

Red version: Hero is the story of one man's quest (Nameless, played by Jet Li) to destroy the three assassins (lovers Broken Sword played by Tony Leung Chiu-Wai and Flying Snow played by Maggie Cheung, and Sky played by Donnie Yen) who tried to kill the King of Qin (Chen Daoming). Nameless bests Sky in combat, and Broken Sword and Flying Snow betray each other, all the while fighting off the King's entire army, until Nameless finally kills Snow. At least, that's the story Nameless tells the King, who is privileged with advancing within ten paces of him.

Blue version: The King disagrees. He knows the assassin lovers and doesn't believe the story. He instead believes that the three assassins sacrificed their own lives to allow Nameless the audience with the King, and thus a chance to commit regicide himself. He has developed a special move, the King theorizes, that can kill a man at ten paces.

White version: Now the truth comes out. Nameless explains who he is, where he came from, and why he is in the King's palace. Nameless has a technique that can skewer a person while missing all their vital organs, making the blow look fatal. He used it on Sky and he uses it again on Flying Snow. Surprisingly, Broken Sword is against the entire notion of assassinating the King at all, a decision that harkens back to the duo's first assassination attempt. It failed only because Broken Sword chose not to kill the King.

Throughout the movie parallels are made between calligraphy and martial arts, and specifically the symbol for the word "sword." There are deeper meanings within the brush strokes, a form of enlightenment that Broken Sword achieved and that the King discovers in his conversation with his would-be assassin. Nameless' decision and the effect it has on the other assassins provides the twist to the tale.

Hero is a breathtaking movie, filled with balletic martial arts, lovely scenes in vivid colors, and natural settings reflecting China's ancient history and beauty. It's entertaining and moving, and the relationship between Broken Sword and Flying Snow anchors the piece. The three different tales, each depicted by a particular color scheme, provides different backdrops for heroics, drama, and warfare.

On the other hand, Hero is a Chinese cinematic version of "Who Moved My Cheese" - it reinforces the status quo with a sinister charm. Killing kings is foolish, says Hero, because it only leads to more war. Nameless' decision is one of sacrifice, one for the many. Were this only a fable, the story wouldn't be politically charged. But the King of Qin went on to become the Emperor of China, who did a lot of great things. So, you know, killing him would be bad because China wouldn't be nearly as great without him.

The question becomes whether or not that matters on a greater moral scale. Hero clearly makes the point that we should feel sympathy for the poor King in his enlightened state. Revenge never gets anyone anywhere. And yet by reducing the course of history to the assassination of one man, Hero makes many assumptions: about the importance of said man, about the progress of China, about our own human failings. It's a very Chinese movie, which makes it either more authentic or less palatable to American audiences. It all depends on your definition of the term "hero."

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Swan Song

I read McCammon's "The Wolf's Hour" when I was a teenager and was amazed by the author's daring: who would have thought to combine werewolves with the spy genre? In the intervening years I forgot the name of the book as well as the author. When I finally remembered the author's name and discovered McCammon wrote a post-apocalyptic novel, I just had to pick it up.

I was not prepared for Swan Song. This review contains spoilers, so if you want to be as unprepared I was read no further.

Steeped in 1980s Cold War paranoia, Swan Song is an end-of-the-world parable about good and evil. There are multiple protagonists, including Sister the formerly crazy homeless woman, Swan the girl who can make plants grow, Josh the giant black wrestler, and a whole pile of supporting characters that are too numerous to list here. On the bad guy side we have Colonel Macklin, a former military officer holed up in a mountain fortress, Roland Croninger, a psychotic gamer and Friend, who might just be the Devil incarnate. There are occasional nods to mysticism, including a glass ring/crown, a magic mirror, a dowsing stick named Crybaby, and a bit of fortunetelling. Indeed, much of the book's plot involves tarot mysticism, a point I gradually lost track of throughout the book's nearly thousand pages.

It's a tribute to McCammon's writing that World War III is every bit as horrible as we fear. The sight of a bus hurled high into the air, flaming bodies falling out of it like burnt embers, stuck with me long after I finished the book. And the fear and hope of the survivors holed up in the mountain fortress as they watch the missiles pass overhead is palpable. His text often verges on the poetic, and McCammon's is careful to realistically portray the effects of radiation and conflict: shock, blisters, and bruises are a common occurrence. I never realized how rarely you hear about shock in fiction until I read Swan Song.

On the other hand, McCammon occasionally veers off into crazy mutant-land with two headed mountain lions, another doomsday device, and another mountain fortress. And that's where Swan Song breaks down a bit. Midway through the book, the plot advances by seven years. The purpose of the time shift seems primarily to move Swan's age forward so she can have a romantic interest, but it's a bit much to swallow--McCammon works so hard to make the world feel real, and then doesn't do enough to make it feel aged by seven years. Relationships seem frozen in time and characters rarely reference the intervening years.

Swan Song is also relentlessly grim: sodomy, rape, infanticide, patricide, matricide, disease, torture, suicide, drug use...it's all on ugly display here. After awhile, it gets so bad it's difficult to stick with the book. When McCammon skips forward in time, I had difficulty believing the characters survived in such a depressing land. But it does get better, eventually, and that's where the biggest problem lies...

There's no real climax between good and evil. The crown/ring of jewels that Sister spends her whole life protecting is hinted at being even more powerful in Swan's hands. And that's it. Friend, the shapeshifting demonic presence, is clearly constrained by limits of the flesh...until it's inconvenient to the plot.

After a thousand pages, you better believe I expect the book to culminate in a holy war. I'm glad McCammon finally gives his poor characters a break (the few he leaves alive, that is), but I'm less pleased by the failure to really settle things once and for all. It's like reading only the first two books of Lord of the Rings. I wanted closure, dammit!

Still, Swan Song is a triumph of writing and definitely worth reading. McCammon provides a tantalizing glimpse of a world that we all secretly know and fear. And he writes with the deft vision of a movie director, creating moments (a race to the death in a mall filled with psychopaths, a showdown with hungry wolves, the aforementioned nuclear war) that haunt your dreams long after you've finished Swan Song.

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Fantastic Four

As franchises go, Fantastic Four is relatively unexplored territory. There are probably good reasons for this: one of the characters is a cigar-chomping piece of rock, three members of the team are related to each other, and one of character's claim to fame is his amazing intellect combined with...wait for it...the power of STRETCHING. Which was pretty funny in the 70s when it was portrayed in cartoons (I can still hear the "stretching" sound like a vacuum played backwards) and is a little creepy today.

Given that comics are the new hot property for movies, it was inevitable that the good 'ole FF have their own film. And thus we have Ioan Gruffud (a less charismatic Jeff Goldblum) as Reed Richards/Mr. Fantastic, the delectable Jessica Alba as Sue Storm/The Invisible Woman, gruff Michael Chiklis as Ben Grimm/The Thing, and Chris Evans as the wisecracking pretty boy Johnny Storm/The Human Torch. Our heroic crew assembles in privately funded mission into space to explore...cosmic space gas. Only something goes terribly awry and the mutagenic mist transforms the four astronauts into super powered freaks.

The inherent silliness of the plot and characters has been spoofed so many times that it's difficult for the actual Fantastic Four to keep up. We've all seen the family squabbles of the Incredibles. But perhaps the most caustic send-up is The Venture Bros., who deftly skewers the FF by casting Reed as an outdated 50s stereotype, Sue as a liberated housewife, and The Thing as a mentally deficient monster.

Perhaps FF can be forgiven for its lack of focus as it tries to walk the tightrope between being superhero silly and deadly serious. Reed's romance with Sue is in its early stages here, complicated by a rival, Victor Von Doom (Julian McMahon)...

You! You in the back with the funny haircut! Stop laughing! That's the man's name, all right? It has nothing to do with his tendency for evil! Or fancy alliteration. Or that he happens to be a native of some country you've never heard of...that happens to send him a mask...that he just happens to wear...

Fine. Fine, yes, this is all a little ridiculous. But there's angst! Poor Grimm suffers as he struggles with his identity and his hot wife dumps him (while wearing a negligee in the middle of the street, of course). Will Reed propose to Sue, or will she stick with Doom? Will Johnny ever stop being such a card? Will Sue ever discover how to turn invisible without taking off her clothes? (!)

And so FF stumbles over itself in an attempt to be both true to the comic book's origins and cram in a plot that's really five stories into one film. Ben Grimm's angst as the unpleasant-looking Thing is diminished by a device that "cures" him. A device that didn't work without Doom's special powers, but mysteriously works in reverse without explanation. Alba is too sexy for the role; it's hard to believe the wooden Richards could romance her or that she'd find the stilted Von Doom any more attractive. And Richards' serious scientific efforts are undermined that he's basically a big inflatable balloon. In fact, much of the fight scenes in this movie involve members of the FF battling each other.

The special effects do a good job of displaying the heroes' powers, but The Thing simply looks like a guy in rubber foam. Chiklis is big, but he's not a huge man, and the film sometimes remember he's heavy and cumbersome (complete with thudding footfalls and exploding chairs) and then forgets when it's inconvenient (because a wooden bench can surely handle his massive weight, right?).

I think a lot of fans are just happy this film isn't the first attempt (that never saw the light of day but lives on in bootlegs). For my FF fix, I prefer the animated version, which manages to be both hilarious and action-packed while poking fun at the utter ridiculousness of a super-science team consisting of a talking rock, a rubber band man, an invisible woman, and a real flamer.

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Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion

I first heard of Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion from a graduate school professor. He declared that reading it changed his life and that it would change mine as well. I didn't believe him. It took me seven years before I finally picked up the book. And now I'm sorry I waited so long.

Influence explains the underpinnings of how the American marketing machine works. Cialdini explains that modern humanity has developed shortcuts to decision-making in order to deal with information overload. As a result, we have a reflex of sorts that kicks in for certain situations, such as the need to reciprocate favors, the desire for rare goods, following likable leaders, determining whom we should listen to, following the rest of the crowd, and maintaining consistency in our public persona.

As a teenager, these pressures to conform are front and center, but as adults we forget the compromises we made in the transition. "Are you a follower or a leader?" Cialdini explains that there are good reasons to be a follower and that, in most situations, it's perfectly acceptable to do what the rest of the crowd is doing. But there are situations in which our natural inclinations can be exploited, and there are scenarios where following the herd can lead to catastrophic consequences. Recognizing these behaviors in ourselves is an important part of survival, so that when modern life throws something at us unexpected, like an accident or a door-to-door salesman, we know how to react.

I mentioned that reading this book filled me with rage. I'm not angry at the author, but at all the people who now, with the gift of hindsight and Cialdini's guidance, I realized manipulated me.

I'm mad at the magazine salesman. He got me to buy two years worth of a magazine I didn't want by relying on my desire for consistency after I provisionally agreed to buy a subscription for what I thought was one year.

I'm mad at the Saturn dealer. Despite the "no haggle rule," he used the trick of authority where he "checked with his boss" for a better deal and then pressured me into buying it.

I'm mad at the real estate agent. He used the trick of scarcity to show me terrible, run-down houses to make me feel better about the house I ultimately picked.

And that's what's so interesting about this book. Cialdini wrote this book for US. Not for managers, salesmen, or non-profit volunteers. He wrote it as a defense! And yet everything from reviews on the book's cover to reviews right here on Amazon tout this book as a must for marketers. That's completely against the spirit of what Cialdini wrote - each chapter ends with "how to say no" and while the advice isn't always sound (he essentially tells you to, ya know, not fall for the tricks) it's certainly welcome.

It's a bitter irony that marketers have turned a book about resisting marketing into yet another marketing tool. Now that I've read this book, there won't be another magazine subscription, car, or house I buy without a fight. Buy it today so you can start fighting back too.

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Eye in the Sky: A Novel

Eye in the Sky was written by the eponymous Philip K. Dick, he of Blade Runner ("Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?") and The Running Man, among other seemingly made for the big screen novels. Dick's meditations on consciousness are a running theme throughout all of his works, and Eye in the Sky is no different. In this tale, our hero Jack Hamilton and has just been given a choice at his military contractor job, where he works at a facility that contains the particle accelerator known as the Bevatron. Jack's wife, Marsha, is suspected of being a Communist sympathizer, and as a result Jack's job is at risk. Adding to the betrayal, Jack's friend Charles McFeyffe is head of security and leads the prosecution against them.

With Jack questioning his own wife's loyalty and choosing between his marriage and his career, Jack, Marsha, Charles, and a few other folks take a tour of the newly operating Bevatron. Then disaster strikes.

The Bevatron's particle beam tears through the visitor catwalk above, dumping eight people into it, including Jack, Marsha, and Charles, along with Bill Laws, an African-American scientist reduced to giving tours of the Bevatron; Arthur Silvester, a fundamentalist World War II veteran; Joan Reiss, a neurotic secretary; and Edith Pritchert and her son, a prim-and-proper patron of the arts. While their bodies lay crumpled on rubble of the broken Bevatron, their consciousnesses are whisked away to alternate universes created by each of the visitors.

In some ways, Dick was light years ahead of his time. Although the novel is obviously dated by references to McCarthyism, the challenges posed by each world couldn't be more apt for our modern times. The first world, created by Silvester, is a fundamentalist's dream, combining geocentric Christian and Islamic beliefs. Dick skewers both religions with one deft chapter, and the reference to Eye in the Sky has (among other parallels) a literal manifestation in Silvester's God. That's right, he's a big Eye of Sauron, so big that it looks like a gigantic lake.

Silvestri's world is either terrifying or hilarious, depending on your perspective. With the divine so intimately real, prayers manifest (one simply prays for money), God's wrath is always around the corner (transforming straying believers into hunchbacked damned souls), and science is a cult that nobody seriously practices. Dick shows just how capricious and dangerous an old Testament God would be, and the difficulty of navigating a modern world with such an omniscient presence.

And yet, Silvester's world has laws. Subsequent worlds range from the bizarre to the outright terrifying. Pritchet's world is one of absolute tranquility, a super-filter that causes anything offending Edith to disappear from existence. Again, Dick hits the mark: in the world of Tivo, the Internet, and politicized news channels, the ability to filter out dissenting opinions has become all too common. If it were literally true, Dick demonstrates how what might on the surface seem ideal rapidly descends into a very personal hell.

The next world is by far the most terrifying; If Mrs. Pritchet found everything offensive, Reiss is afraid of it all. The water is poisoned, houses literally try to eat you, and lurking inside every one of us is a cold, calculating insect just dying to burst free...

The final world brings us back to the crux of the conflict for Jack and Marsha - a Communist's view of what America must be like. The identity of the creator will ultimately determine if Marsha is guilty of being a Communist.

The book is not without its flaws. Dick comes off very much a political author who doesn't necessarily know the targets he skewers. A fight with angels devolves into a peculiar human-like brawl, with angels being kicked in the groin, skewered in the spleen with a hatpin (seriously), and otherwise being beaten up as if they were common thugs. No fundamentalist worth his bible would ever believe angels could be so easily defeated, much less beaten up.

Bill Laws, the African-American, is cast in a sympathetic light, but he has little to do. Laws never gets his own world and thus he seems more of a caricature, content only to chastise Jack on his own hypocrisy. Marsha comes off as whiny and self-centered, and her supposed interest in political causes makes her seem more like a suburban socialite with too much time on her hands than a believable advocate of human rights. And then there's Jack, who just comes off as an arrogant jerk most of the time.

And yet, Eye in the Sky is so far ahead of its time. Dick has set up a perfect series of foibles to demonstrate his own beliefs, and in doing so shows how we all barter our individual freedoms for religion (Silvester), peace (Pritchet), security (Reiss), and democracy.

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Bad Taste

Peter Jackson is best known for the The Lord of the Rings trilogy and King Kong, but a long time ago he made his own cult film: Bad Taste. Watching it is a bit of cinema history, in the same way that watching The Evil Dead series is a prelude to Sam Raimi's later work. This whole movie reminds me of a role-playing game session from my high school days, where game masters and players made things up as they went along.

The first thing you notice is that Bad Taste is well, bad. The film and audio quality is terrible. The accents are a bit difficult to understand for Americans. One of the characters, Derek, appears to be mentally ill. And yet there's a certain rough charm to the whole thing.

The plot, such as it is, involves a crack team of government agents who work for the Astro-Investigation and Defense Service (AIDS) sent to investigate the disappearance of the citizens of Kaihoro, New Zealand. Your reaction to the in-joke name of the agency will dictate whether you find Bad Taste to be hilarious or stupid. An agency with an acronym like AIDS is something my high school buddies might dream up on a whim.

The AIDS strike force consists of Ozzy (Terry Potter), Barry (Peter O'Herne), Frank (Mike Minett), and the aforementioned Derek. They stumble onto an alien race of merchants who know all about "how to serve man," and not the butler kind of service. The film begins with the capture of one of the aliens, Robert (Peter Jackson), who is held captive by hanging him over the edge of a cliff by his ankle. While Barry explores the ghost town, Derek decides to torture the leader for information by stabbing him in the foot. This ultimately leads to the other aliens coming to the rescue, Robert escaping, and Derek falling off a cliff to his supposed death.
"Wait, Derek died?" asks Derek's player.

"Yeah," says the GM. "You had a good fight there with the alien sledgehammers but you slipped off the cliff."

"But," whines the player, "I was just getting started! You can't kill Derek off like that!"

"Okay, fine. Derek lands on seagull eggs and only some of his brain falls out, but he's still alive. Now he's crazy as a loon."

"Great! I stuff his brains back into his skull and keep going..."

In comes Giles player. "Hey guys. Is it too late to play?"

"Nah," says the GM. "You're a collector whose come to Kaihoro to collect. And the aliens abduct you and toss you in a stew!"

"Oh, great..."
Bad Taste pretty much devolves from there, leading to Derek attacking people with a chainsaw, Ozzy and Frank firing rocket-launchers at the aliens, and the aliens themselves turning out to be shoulder- and butt-padded monstrosities who can barely run much less pose a threat to anybody. It all ends with a house flying into space.

Bad Taste veers from thrilling action to long, boring pans of characters walking from Point A to Point B. There are random gags (most of them involving slipping on some form of excrement), over-the-top violence ranging from organs being stuffed into places to drinking someone else's vomit, and plenty of jokes about aliens and action movies. The action scenes are actually very well done, and there's plenty of people running as machine gun fire peppers their feet.

Bad Taste makes no bones about what it is - a cult film. Jackson's humor is evident here, but he would go on to do much more horrifying and humorous films. While Bad Taste is no Evil Dead, it's still enjoyable as a piece of film history over a couple of beers with your buddies.

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The Darkness

I've never read The Darkness comic. I couldn't get past the fact that the character looks like a bad Spawn rip-off and the quote from Brunching Shuttlecocks about the truth behind Dungeons & Dragons: "I attack the darkness!"

The Darkness is essentially every Mafia movie cliché mixed with the brooding atmosphere of The Crow. In fact, the protagonist, Jackie Estacado (Kirk Acevedo), looks and sounds at lot like Michael Wincott, who played Top Dollar in that film. If you've seen The Crow, you know that Wincott's got a very distinctive appearance, with his long black hair, leather overcoat, and hawkish features. In The Darkness, Jackie is affectionately nicknamed Ratface by his girlfriend Jenny Romano (Lauren Ambrose). As you can imagine, having personal connections in a dark game like this is inevitably a liability, but I digress.

The Darkness owes a lot to films like Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction, with random narrative from our hero, outrageous characters, and an uneven mix of action and drama. The first cut scene (created with all in-game graphics) gives a perfect sense of what's to come: lots of cursing, lots of gore, absolutely no respect for authority, and plenty of violence, all taking place in New York. It's the New York of the seventies, when crime and graffiti were rampant and sane people didn't wander out alone by themselves. And you're one of the reasons.

The Darkness is a two-headed demonic symbiont that lives within Jackie and, we discover later, the entire Estacado bloodline. In that respect the game is a lot like Spawn or Venom; the Darkness is a personality as much as it is a thing that augments Jackie's considerable gun-fu skills with the ability to create black holes that suck everything into them, whiplash barbed tentacles, magical guns, and snake-like mouths. In the dark, Jackie can summon other demons to do his bidding, which range from kamikaze critters loaded with explosives to gatling-gun wielding warriors.

Jackie's opponents have no such superpowers, and it's a credit to the game's creators that any supernatural monsters you encounter all fit the plot. There's no inevitable escalation of the villain gaining superpowers to do battle; indeed, the villain behind most of Jackie's woes, Uncle Paulie Franchetti (Dwight Schultz) is as much a moral foil as he is an arch-foe. Killing him isn't the point.

The game revolves around the issue of Jackie's soul. Mob life is a violent one, and The Darkness contrasts the mythical honor of the "old ways" with the mad-dog frenzy of Franchetti. When Franchetti starts blowing up orphanages, the older mobsters use Jackie as their form of vengeance.

The Darkness uses the New York subway system as its primary means of shuttling Jackie from place to place. This makes a lot of sense and provides a sense of realism to an otherwise route form of travel that bedevils so many first-person shooters. The streets are filled with entertaining characters who all have missions of their own to complete. Two of the most memorable characters include Butcher Joyce (Mike Starr) and Aunt Sarah (Norma Michaels), but there are many more and the voice actors are all superb. Between screens, and there are a lot of load screens, Jackie narrates his life and death to Jenny, which provides a humorous series of quotable anecdotes. These are the first load screens that actually distracted me from the load time.

Despite the age-old Mafia tropes, The Darkness takes the themes explored in The Crow and Spawn and amps them up to eleven, without ever losing focus on sacrifice, violence, and even love. I wasn't entirely convinced that saving Jackie's soul was feasible (I earned the anti-hero rating from the game), but the very notion of redemption being possible is a breath of fresh air to the first-person shooter genre.

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Taking Lives

I have no idea why this movie was on my Netflix list, but after watching all those Ashley Judd movies I figure Angelina Jolie deserves at least as much of a chance.

Taking Lives is the usual FBI agent stalks the serial killer plot. Pretty/creepy FBI agent, Illeana (Angelina Jolie) is a drop-dead hottie who wears a wedding ring to avoid men asking her out, turns down everyone who asks her out, and likes to sleep in graves to literally walk in the footsteps of her victims. You see, Illeana is the best agent for this sort of case, and presumably anyone interested in catching a serial killer has to be a little strange herself. This supposed brilliance almost never actually appears in the film, unless you count breathless close-ups of Illeana staring at pictures or laying in graves.

Illeana is pursuing a serial killer. This serial killer takes peoples' lives and lives in them, "like a hermit crab." He looks for single men with few attachments who won't be missed for months at a time. Why? Because his mother, Mrs. Asher (Gena Rowlands), believed her son killed his twin brother in a boating accident and kept him locked up in the basement for years at a time. So our bad guy wants to live other peoples' lives because...he has really, really low self-esteem. Sure, okay.

For reasons that seem only to further muddle the plot, all this takes place in Canada. There are several actors in Taking Lives who are most assuredly esteemed thespians in their home country but come off stilted, hostile, and apathetic when speaking English. These angry Canadians are unhappy about an American taking over their case and they're not afraid to speak French around Illeana to let her know it. They showed her!

There are a multitude of problems with this film. It has a really cool ending which doesn't make up for the plodding pace, the ridiculous plot twists, or the leaden acting. Phillip Glass is not the composer for a neo-noir film that needs a dramatic, slow build - his music is too sweeping, too lighthearted, too commercial. There's also a crazy violent sex scene that shows quite a bit of Jolie and seems to exist primarily to boost interest in the film at its nadir.

Taking Lives performs more acrobatics than Illeana in the bedroom to convince us of its plot twists. At one point, a supposedly dead character is propped up by the real bad guy to look like he's committing a crime. Only the shot is CLEARLY of a living person holding a gun to the faux victim's head, and a flashback shows quite a different scene. In other words, Taking Lives simply cheats to pull off its plot twist that we all saw coming a mile away because there's no way the film is going to end in just an hour.

With a subdued Jolie, a bizarre appearance by Kiefer Sutherland, lack of chemistry between the two leads, and a supporting cast that doesn't speak English as their first language, Taking Lives would make for a boring movie even if it were an action film. As a slow-building drama it can barely stir to life.

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The Gate

When I was looking for some inspiration for a plot involving little monsters attacking people, I had several movies to choose from. The "little monsters attack" horror/comedy genre was a fad that started with Gremlins and continued on through Critters, Ghoulies, and Troll in the eighties, among others. I was looking for more horror, less comedy. You need look no further than The Gate.

The Gate's concept is straightforward horror: kids alone (Stephen Dorf as preteen Glen and Christa Denton as his big sister Al) at home inadvertently open a literal pit to the netherworld and all hell breaks loose. But that's oversimplifying the movie, because there's so much more here.

Despite its PG-13 rating, The Gate is rather disturbing. Two of the kids are kidnapped by demons, a dead dog is involved, and a parent's head explodes. At one point Al grabs her father's gun and fires it (!) at one of the monsters. Glen's friend Terry (Louis Tripp) comes back as a demon to bite our protagonist, who proceeds to poke out his eye with a Barbie doll's leg. There's no way this movie would get a PG-13 rating today!

Then there are the little demons themselves, who seem like every kid's nightmare. The director knew how to use "bigatures" to his advantage (a technique perfected in Lord of the Rings), giving the demons a disturbingly lifelike appearance since they're actually actors in suits on a larger backdrop. There are other great FX too, not the least of which is a zombie exploding into a swarm of little demons. And to the movie's credit, artwork seen early in the movie depicts the demon lord accurately - the stop-motion demon that shows up at the end is every bit as horrifying.

Although this is a kid's movie, The Gate pushes all the buttons kids are afraid of. The demons prevent the kids from calling their parents (shouting, "YOU'VE BEEN BAAAD!"). The dead dog shows up in the most frightening places. And long, clawed arms snake out underneath beds to grab at the unsuspecting. If this movie doesn't give kids nightmares, nothing will.

The movie is hopelessly mired in the eighties. The teens dressed with ridiculous big hairstyles. The next door neighbor Terry (Louis Tripp) learns how to repel the demons by playing his death metal record backwards. And the dialogue is hopeless: "Suck my nose until my head caves in," is Glen's taunt to one of Al's annoying friends.

But that's beside the point. This is a movie about a kid's love for his big sister and rockets, both of which help him overcome the forces of evil. With special effects ahead of its time, demons that are anything but cute, and a climax that is both terrifying and inspirational, The Gate is an entertaining piece of eighties horror history. After the hell poor Glen goes through, he deserves the sappy happy ending.

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Cube 2 - Hypercube

Cube 2: Hypercube is actually a sequel to the highly successful if little known sci-fi exercise in hopeless existentialism, Cube. The premise is that a bunch of complete strangers wake up in a series of interconnected cubes. There are ladders and doors in all six panels of the room. Traps await the unwary, but the real danger is, as Sartre famously quoted in No Exit, "other people."

What made Cube more than two hours of torture was the mathematical puzzle that powered the environment. Because the cube was a three-dimensional environment, it came with certain rules that could be puzzled out. Hypercube adds a fourth dimension, time, and that changes the rules significantly.

The poor saps stuck in the cube this go round include: Rebecca Young (Greer Kent) who went missing into the Cube, Simon Grady (Geraint Wyn Davies) the private investigator hired to find her, Sasha the blind girl with a mysterious past (Grace Lynn Kung), Max Reisler (Matthew Ferguson) the gaming geek, Jerry Whitehall (Neil Crone) the architectural designer, Juila Sewell (Lindsey Connell) the hot attorney, the irritating Alzheimer's afflicted Mrs. Paley (Barbara Gordon), and finally Kate Filmore (Kari Matchett) a psychologist with a dark past and our protagonist.

Like the first movie, Hypercube dumps our mysterious characters right into the grand guignol. Unlike Cube, Hypercube explains how they got there. All of the characters have a past to an organization known as Izon. This nefarious organization doesn't take kindly to failure, and all our characters are flawed in some way. Without hope, our characters revert to their basest natures. For Max and Julia, it's lust. For Simon, it's violence. For Sasha and Kate, it's deception.

Unfortunately, there are long stretches of talking wherein Jerry explains how hypercubes (also known as a tesseract) work. Because it exists in more than three dimensions, just about anything is possible, including parallel realities. Which means there's no reasonable chance for our protagonists to escape, except for the distinct possibility that in another reality, they already DID escape. Once the parallel world concept is introduced, Hypercube really comes into its own. Remember, there's no food in the cube...

The special effects are minimal and the traps are less inventive than the first. Hypercube is more concerned about the possibilities of alternate dimensions than it is about killing people off, relying instead on the inevitable backstabbing. Although there is a tantalizing series of clues as to the true nature of the hypercube, it's a bit of a feint - figuring it out doesn't help the characters escape or give them much of an advantage. This is a refreshing twist for jaded moviegoers and a depressing downer for those who are looking for a satisfying conclusion.

To the director's credit, Hypercube is relentless in its cynicism. If Cube was existentialist, its sequel is nihilistic.

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Blacksite: Area 51

This game is bad. Bad, bad, baddity, bad. I hate it with the passion of a thousand suns. Here's why:
  • It crashes. Constantly. It would crash at random moments, whenever the game tried to load the extremely detailed environments.
  • There are a million load sequences that interrupt the flow of the game. And the load screens are repetitive. And the "hints" the game shares with you are useless. Reload frequently? Thanks, Blacksite, I never thought of that!
  • It's linear. At one point, the resident tough guy character quotes Star Wars, cause, ya know, the area looks like one of the chasms on the Death Star. When a character points out how linear the game is, you know there's a problem.
  • The enemies are boring. There's one actually freaky alien, and it's telling that the thing is showcased in all the art advertising the game. All the other creatures look like they were ripped out of Starship Troopers. There's also the stupid "exploding monsters" which are a tired staple of FPS. Did I mention that one of them is a giant tower that slowly rotates and farts out alien bugs?
  • Squad-based tactics? Sure, that amounts to telling people where to go (they never listen) and telling them whom to shoot at (because it's not obvious?).
  • Non-destructible environments. Sure, the fuel trucks can be shot. There are crates you can break, but there's nothing in them. The environment is largely static.
  • There's also a rail game component. With monsters that shoot projectiles at you. I've never seen this before. All that's missing is the "shoot me in the head" game.
  • You can't affect anything the game doesn't want you to shoot at. You can empty an entire clip into your allies heads, shoot their vehicles, and basically act like a moron without affecting the game. And when I get bored, I can really be a big moron.
  • You can jump about two inches in the air. There is no purpose to jumping. You can't scale any environment, except to slowly fall down a zip-line like you're on an elevator. In the one area where you can fall to your death, the final boss battle, your dead body stutter-steps down to the ground. This is a fabulous piece of code, let me tell you.
  • It's short. I mean, really short. Even for me. I tried to play the game on a much harder difficulty, but the crashing actually drove me so insane that I wanted to at least get my money worth. So I played it on easy to get it over with.
There are some redeeming traits, but none good enough to make the game worth buying. It's got some interesting environments, including a battle in a suburban neighborhood. At one point you receive air support from a chopper flying overhead while you're duking it out on the ground. And the rail gun battles, while rote, are at least scripted to be exciting. There's also the amusing, ripped from the headlines dialogue. None of that saves this stinking fetid pile of excrement.

In the era of Bioshock, Halo 3, and Gears of War, Blacksite is proof that graphics alone are not enough to make a great game. The developers should be ashamed of themselves, but I can't tell you who they are because while I was forced to watch the end credits...the game crashed.

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The Simpsons Movie

There's a predictable path to pop culture icons that start on television. The Simpsons went from animated shorts on the Tracy Ulllman show to their own series and finally, to this movie. All that's missing is the live-action version and the Broadway play.

With a PG-13 rating, there's an opportunity for the Simpsons to stretch their legs a bit and do naughty things they couldn't do on television, like nudity, language, violence - you know, all the fun stuff. But there's got to be more than that.

The Simpsons is a richly detailed universe with characters that actually evolve, from the passing of Flanders' wife to Apu's massive brood. These characters are what make the Simpsons so much fun; there are stereotypes that are a reflection of every aspect of American life. They're us. Fatter, dumber, louder, uglier...but they're us.

What does the Simpsons movie do? It drops a dome over the city of Springfield and then separates the Simpsons from the rest of the cast. The rest of the film then involves a villain never-before introduced, a random helpful character (a busty Eskimo lady), and a love-interest for Lisa that has absolutely nothing to do with the plot.

The plot involves the EPA and pollution. Which is odd, since Lisa, arguably the biggest opponent of pollution on the show, doesn't have much to say or do here. In fact, she's occupied with her love interest. Bart's supposedly having a crisis over Homer being a bad father (unbelievable, given that Homer's behavior borders the insane). And Marge reconsiders her marriage. For the eighth time.

For some reason, someone thought the idea of Homer becoming obsessed with a pig was funny. This in turn morphs into Homer turning the pig into "Spider-Pig." And that one-off joke, which at most gets a mild chuckle, turns into the tent pole supporting the Simpsons. It's in Homer's dream quest. It's in the DVD menu. I mean, seriously, the idea of Spider-Pig is cute the first time. But it's hardly movie material. In fact, after starting the chain of events that are the crux of the Simpsons movie, the stupid pig disappears entirely. Even the writers knew the pig was a dumb idea.

It's not that the Simpsons movie isn't funny. It's that it's extremely uninspired, given the fine pedigree of writers for the show. The mutant squirrel that becomes the symbol of Springfield's pollution best sums up the lack of inspiration. There already is a mascot of Springfield's solution: the three-eyed fish. The fact that the movie didn't use it shows just how underutilized the Springfield cast really is.

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Crackdown

When Halo 3 was announced, I actively resisted buying Crackdown for the sole purpose of getting onto the Halo 3 beta. Mind you, I love Halo 3. I play team slayer every Wednesday night (add Talien to your friends list if you want to join). But I wasn't going to pay more money just to get into the game early. So for a long time, I just avoided Crackdown out of principle. Which is a shame, because Crackdown is awesome.

Basically, you're a genetically-engineered superhero who can leap tall buildings in a single bound, lift trucks over your head, and shoot criminals real good. Did I mention the criminals? They're the reason you exist: in a society overrun by scum, you "AM de LAW!" There are three gangs you must defeat, each helpfully segregating themselves by taking over a different island. There's the Hispanic Los Muertos (death), who swear at you in Spanish and drive muscle cars. There's the Russian Volk (wolves) who drive Soviet-Era transport trucks carrying Stinger missiles. And then there's the Shai-Gen, sort of the uber-corporate villain reminiscent of Gibson-style Japanese megacorporations. You take down each of these bad guys by taking out the lieutenants, which in turn weakens the gang leader by reducing the effectiveness of his bodyguards.

There are a wide range of weapons and vehicles you can use to wage your one-man war on crime. You can impound weapons and vehicles so you can use them later. Your uber-cop advances through the skills he uses; use lots of explosives and your explosives skill goes up, run over bad guys with your car and your driving skill goes up. There are also power-ups floating around the city, blue question marks that give you bonuses to all skills and green exclamation points that increase your speed and jumping ability.

Crackdown's methodology heavily relies on the carrot approach, rewarding you for going to difficult places in the game by providing incentives. Even death isn't permanent; thanks to cloning, you reappear at one of the supply points throughout the game with a loss in some skills.

Crackdown's cell-shaded universe is both comic book-y and beautiful. It's amazing to watch the sun set and rise, or be dangling from a twenty story building when the lights flick on. I was especially fond of killing major villains and hurling their bodies off of skyscrapers, watching them fall doll-like hundreds of feet to the ground. Wait, should I not have shared that? I've said too much.

Ahem. Anyway, what makes Crackdown so different is that it truly delivers on the sandbox-style of play. You can fight gang members or kill citizens, drive vehicles anywhere, pick up anything, destroy everything. You can jump, you can swim, you can climb. Every character is as interactive as your character, and the AI reacts in a reasonable fashion: citizens run screaming, driving their cars erratically to get away from firefights. Gang members shoot you, run you down, and throw grenades at your head. When a firefight breaks out, police come screeching onto the scene, and usually get in the way. When you jump down from a distance, you shatter the pavement. When citizens see you leaping through the air or carrying heavy artillery, they flee for their lives.

There are moments in Crackdown where I was reminded of the target audience. The non-English speaking gangs and citizens shout phrases, adding to the atmosphere of the game. The English speaking drones in Shai-Gen are a lot less amusing and become downright annoying. The swearing is a little silly (with so many citizens randomly saying things, when combat goes down they end up cursing quite a bit) and over the top. But this is a game about killing gang members by throwing trucks at them, so I give Crackdown a pass.

Speaking of the audio, the narrator is the only character of substance, and he guides you through the game. His encouragement and chastisement is pitch-perfect, an older, grizzled white guy's voice telling you how it is and how to do better next time. I wasn't thrilled with the ending - like so many games, it feels rushed and a bit of a cop out - but playing the game was still a rewarding experience.

If you're a fan of Robocop, Judge Dredd, or the Tick, get Crackdown. You'll be shouting "SPOOOONNN!", hurling chimneys, and leaping across rooftops in no time. Unless you're not a fan of the Tick, in which case you'll appreciate laying down the law the old fashioned way: with a rocket launcher.

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Stardust

ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a movie called Stardust based on Master Gaiman's popular work. And so it was that the film came to pass, and it attempted to stay true to its roots, and in doing so was actually three tales combined.

THE FIRST TALE was about a randy young man named Dunstan Thorn (Nathaniel Parker) who escaped the town of Wall, which also happened to have a wall, and was thus the reason for its namesake. On the other side of the wall (or Wall, if you prefer) was a kingdom known as Stormhold. The very first person that Dunstan met there was a princess, who was captured by a witch. Having discovered that she was held captive, good Dunstan promptly did what any good adventurer would do; that is, to sully her virtue and not call her for nine months. Thus it was that a bundle of joy named Tristan (Charlie Cox) arrived at his doorstep.

But Tristan was as unwise in choosing love as his father was lax in returning for his lady friend, which, by all accounts, means the adventuresome Dunstan left the princess to languish for something in the order of twenty plus years. Anyway, Tristan promised to win the beautiful but decidedly unpleasant Victoria's (Sienna Miller) hand in marriage by retrieving a fallen star. Except said star turned out to be quite the hottie herself (Yvaine played by Claire Danes) rather than a glowing piece of plasma, which complicated matters as you can probably imagine.

THE SECOND TALE was about a ruthless king (Peter O'Toole) and his backstabbing seven sons. These seven were all as ruthless as their father, and when the king fell ill they merrily offed each other in devious ways, until only one was left. But alas, the princes all were cursed to roam the earth as ghosts, and really had nothing else to do but comment on the events happening in the movie, as if the audience needed to be told when there were funny bits. The inclusion of these princes was largely superfluous, as those who have read fairy tales, and those who have had fairy tales read to them, most certainly knew who would end up with the crown in the end.

It just so happened that any prince-who-would-be-king required an amulet, which was tied to a star. And that the king, on his deathbed, sent the amulet into space, which turned the star into a woman, and then brought her back down to earth, which led to quite a few jokes about being a star. All that glowing and such.

THE THIRD TALE was about witches and pirates, an unbeatable combination when the primary witch, Lamia, was played by Michelle Pfeiffer and the primary pirate, Captain Shakespeare, was played by Robert DeNiro. And yet it was odd in that Lamia, who became uglier and weaker with every spell she cast, cast an awful lot of them, often with wild abandon. And it was also odd that Captain Shakespeare, a flaming fey pirate if there ever was one, was also an awful combatant, as evidenced by his sound trouncing by one of the many princes in pursuit of the star. And it was most certainly odd that a talented actor like DeNiro would play a gay pirate so outlandishly foppish, complete with a lisp, that it should devolve into offensive parody instead of humor. But that's pirates for you.

And so it came to pass that Stardust, which ran far too long, was the rare film with more budget than it knew what to do with. And thus the special effects were amazing, the acting pretty good, the plot not so much, and the conclusion, while thrilling, a little trite. So the adventurous critic, only somewhat amused by Stardust, watched Princess Bride instead, which while not having nearly as much of a special effects budget, had twice the charm.

And he lived happily ever after.

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Day Watch

A few things you need to know about Daywatch: it's a dark urban fantasy made by Russians, a sort of World of Darkness (if you're familiar with White Wolf's eponymous game line) or, if you prefer, Underworld. In this version of urban fantasy, which now seems to be its very own genre, every Halloween-type critter coexists: ghosts, vampires, werewolves all live in unhappy harmony just outside human perception.

There are two factions at work: the Daywatch, the dark-type bad guys who lurk in the night, and the Nightwatch, the beings of light who watch over the evil that supernatural monsters do. The two sides have made a truce of sorts to keep the other in balance and avoid all-out war. Each side has its own Chosen One, and if these two Chosen Ones happen to fight, it will be the end of the world. Our hero, Anton Gorodetsk (Konstantin Khabensky) just happens to be the connection between the two: his girlfriend and partner, Svetlana, in the Nightwatch team and his son, Yegor, who is corrupted by the Daywatch gang led by Zevulon. The two forces threaten to tear Anton apart. Literally - at one point, Yegor and Svetlana pull on Anton's arms as the building splits apart beneath him.

The first mistake I made was assuming that I could watch Daywatch without watching Nightwatch. I didn't read the book. I have no idea if Nightwatch established more information about the characters, but I hope so, because I was very confused by the end of the film.

The second mistake I made was my assumption that Russians always sitting around in grubby apartments drinking Vodka is a stereotype. Either the director (Zuberbuehler) was intentionally pandering to the stereotype or that's how it really is there. Whatever the case: there's a lot of smoking, a lot of drinking, and a lot of partying in Daywatch.

What's so refreshing about Daywatch is the complete disregard for American film tropes. It reminded me a lot of Brotherhood of the Wolf, wherein a director takes his vision and sculpts it without kowtowing to the "way movies are supposed to be." Special effects are used on things no American director would even bother with: there's a thrilling scene where a car drives up a building that seemingly exists for the sole purpose of showing off how cool the driver is. At various times Daywatch is beautiful and grotesque, frenetic and achingly slow, overdramatic and subtle. The film starts, stops, and starts again with little regard to whether or not the viewer can keep up.

The subtitles deserve their own mention: this is the first film I've ever seen that animated the subtitles themselves, so that they do neat things to emphasize what's happening on screen: fading away, appearing in front of and behind objects, appearing in a particular order, and turning from red to white and back again.

Nothing's what you'd expect in Daywatch. For all the shapeshifters and vampires, there's just one shape shifting parrot (?!) and no neck biting at all. Baba Yaga is accompanied by a coterie of dolls mounted on spider bodies. There's some business with magic chalk. There's time travel. There's a whole sequence involving body- and gender-swapping. And the world nearly ends through the use of a really deadly yo-yo. No, really.

It's difficult to discern what the rules are that governs the supposed catastrophic war. Perhaps in the same way Godzilla embodied fears about the atom bomb, Daywatch seems to be more concerned about the apocalyptic event when the two Chosen Ones meet than the war that ensues anyway - Daywatch and Nightwatch regularly clash, mobilize troops, and destroy large chunks of real estate. For two groups supposedly trying to avoid a war, they sure don't act like it. Maybe that's a statement on the Cold War itself.

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Ratatouille

I love just about everything Pixar puts out. What's so refreshing about their approach is the male-centric perspective the movies bring, be it a single father searching for his son (Finding Nemo), a single male learning the responsibility of raising a child (Monsters, Inc.), or male bonding between friends (Toy Story). And then there's Ratatouille.

Our rat hero, Remy (Patton Oswalt), is a rat who wants to be a chef. Our human hero, Linguini (Lou Romano), is a garbage boy for the fine French restaurant Gusteau's with a mysterious past who just wants to get the girl (Colette, voiced by Jeanine Garofalo). These two eventually cross paths and struggle with the boundaries that separate man from rodent, the untalented from the prodigy. Remy strikes out on his own and gets a job (of sorts), distancing himself from his family and friends. Linguini struggles to impress Colette in the kitchen under the devious watch of Skinner (Ian Holm). Throughout we hear the mantra: "Anyone can cook!" as espoused by the ghostly "figment of Remy's imagination," August Gusteau (Brad Garrett).

Unlike the other Pixar movies that are tightly focused on a single core message and convey it beautifully, Ratatouille is all over the place. Will Remy convince his family that striking out on his own was a good idea? Will he make it as a rat turned chef? Can he keep up his façade as a puppet master of Linguini's cooking talent? Speaking of Linguini, what is his mysterious background all about? Will Linguini convince Colette of his love? Will Skinner figure out Linguini has no talent for cooking? And what IS Linguini's talent anyway? Will Skinner get away with his plans to sully the reputation of Gusteau's restaurant through blatant commercialization?

But that's not what Ratatouille is all about. It's actually about the crypt-like critic known as Anton Ego (voiced by Peter O'Toole with creaky menace). He is a bitter, unlikable skeleton of a man, thin where Gusteau was fat. Ego doesn't like food; he claims that he loves it, and if he doesn't love it, "I don't SWALLOW." Somewhere in the course of Ego's career as a food critic, he lost track of what makes life enjoyable. It's up to our dynamic duo to convince him otherwise.

So the message isn't actually about whether or not anyone can cook. It's about remembering what matters about food: not the taste so much as the feelings and memories associated with it. Unfortunately, that message is muddled by all the other questions laid out in the film.

As a result of all the other plotlines, some of the characters become one-dimensional. The rats are more fleshed out than the humans. In fact, Linguini seems like such a doofus with no actual skill that it's hard to care about his plight or what Colette sees in him. It's implied that his true calling is as a roller-skating waiter, but that talent appears in the last few minutes of the film.

Ratatouille wraps up with Ego's epiphany, another human who isn't fleshed out nearly as much as his counterparts. The fairytale ending is a bit hard to swallow, but that probably depends on your opinion of rats in a kitchen. Overall, Ratatouille has a lot of heart but not a lot of art, and the film's lack of focus prevents it from becoming a true Pixar classic.

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Live Free or Die Hard

Like most men, I have placed the original Die Hard movie at the pinnacle of macho-action films. What made Die Hard so great wasn't just that it was an action movie, but that it was an old-fashioned tale of cops-and-robbers juiced with testosterone and lots of explosions. John McClane (Bruce Willis) was an ordinary cop thrust into an extraordinary situation, an American-grown defender of justice given the opportunity to strike back against international invaders. Or so it seemed; the joke was on us. The original villain was actually just a petty thief, using the tactics of terrorists to cover his operations. It was a stroke of genius and prescient insight into how the world really works.

Part and parcel of McClane's "normal guy"-ness was his ability to withstand pain and keep functioning. And for that to happen, McClane had to get beat up, stabbed, burned, and otherwise bloodied. McClane was cool in an old-school way; with his stubble, his mumbled asides, and his often-bewildered expressions, he was a fantasized version of every teenage boy (and adult) who didn't have leading man good looks or huge muscles. And he always had a personal stake; McClane was our National Guardsman, protecting his family from crime.

As they say, the more things change, the more they stay the same, and so we're back to Die Hard once more. This has to be the first action movie explicitly based on an article, John Carlin's 1997 "A Farewell to Arms" for Wired magazine. Basically, the article details a "fire sale" - an attack that postulates the next major terrorist attack on America will include an electronic element, combining an electronic attack on the nation's infrastructure with a brute force physical attack.

Into this mix is our pal John, escorting Matt Farrell (Justin Long, AKA the "Mac Guy") to a government safe house. It turns out all the hackers who helped develop the codes to infiltrate the U.S. infrastructure are being eliminated, and Farrell is the only one to have escaped. Thus ensues a new breed of buddy movie, "Boomer Meets Gen Y," and all the hilarity that entails.

Live Free or Die Hard is as much about the consequences of cybeterrorism as it is about the differences in generations. The dialogue between Farrell and McClane centers around these differences in understanding and accepting technology, and what it means to be a hero. In the end, they discover they have a lot to learn from each other (awwww).

The movie is not without its flaws. The PG-13 editing is very noticeable; Willis resorts to grunting and groaning instead of swearing like he did in the earlier films. He moans and groans so loudly that it starts to get comical. There is not one but two unbelievable battles with aircraft that strain credulity, even for a Die Hard movie; I was willing to forgive Car vs. Helicopter, but Eighteen-Wheeler vs. VTOL Jet was just ludicrous. VTOL jets are for taking off and landing, not having old-fashioned showdowns on bridges. And yet, the special effects are so amazing that it's hard to nitpick.

The other problem is the villain, Thomas Gabriel (Timothy Olyphant). His disturbing actions are far more cutthroat and scary than his physical presence on screen. As an actor, Olyphant just can't pull it off. By the time McClane reaches him, you just want him to slap the kid upside the head and pull the plug on his computer. And of course, Gabriel's motives are no more noble than the villain from the first movie.

In theory, there's a subplot about McClane's daughter, Lucy (Mary Elizabeth Winstead), but she doesn't have much to do here other than be a hostage. On the other hand, there's the addition of Kevin Smith as Warlock, a superhacker, that's just hilarious. To people who care about Star Wars and Kevin Smith, anyway.

Live Free or Die Hard tries to have it both ways, appealing to the younger (PG-13 movie release) and older generations (unrated DVD version) and engaging them in a debate about what it is to be a hero. As a believable tale of one man saving the nation, it's often overshadowed by its big-budget special effects. As an action movie, it's a worthy entry in the Die Hard franchise.

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Next

I've gamed with my share of psychic characters in various modern-day role-playing games, but for some reason male precogs has never gotten the same attention from Hollywood. The clairvoyant types are always women or kids who talk to ghosts, with the exception of Stir of Echoes...which was about a guy who talked to ghosts. It was high time we had an action-packed, testosterone-injected update of the typical precog movie.

Our hero, Chris Johnson (Nicolas Cage) is wandering around Vegas performing magic tricks. Something is keeping him there: normally, Johnson can only see a few minutes into the future. But when he encounters (or will encounter) Liz Cooper (the delectable Jessica Biel) at a diner, he discovers he can see his future with her, and only with her. At heart, Next is a star-crossed romance.

What's entertaining about this somewhat flimsy premise is that Johnson can make it work. Nobody as hot as Cooper would normally be interested in shlubby Johnson, but he keeps trying alternate approaches, visualizing an endless array of possibilities, until he hits on the tactic that will work.

As you can imagine, precognition is a lot like time travel, and it's difficult to visually pull off. Next does an excellent job of showing what Johnson sees and the innovative ways he uses his gift; at one point, we see him splitting into multiple selves (representing all the possibilities of a particular course of action). In combat, this is really fun to watch - since Johnson can see when someone will throw a punch, he can easily dodge the blow. He can even dodge bullets.

Into this tidy romance steps Callie Ferris (the usually gorgeous Julianne Moore, who looks terrible in this movie), a federal agent bent on using Johnson's powers to stop a nuclear bomb from going off. The plot spins from there. The terrorists, who are tracking Ferris, figure that Johnson must be important because the government wants so desperately to speak with him, so they try to kill Johnson. In other words, the movie is something of a closed loop - the whole reason Johnson gets involved is because people THINK he might be important, and thus he becomes important.

Next has its flaws, however. For one, Cage acts like he's in a daze. His character is bland, confused, and a little addled - not in a cool, I-have-mental-powers sort of way, but an old-man-who-forgot-his-meds sort of way. It's not very appealing, and strains the credibility of any attraction that Biel's character would have to him.

Speaking of Biel, she's simply too attractive for the role. At the time of the film, Biel was 25, Cage was 43. They seem wildly mismatched in age, personality, and temperament. Biel does a good job acting bewildered and enchanted, but she's essentially making goo-goo eyes at a walking, talking zombie.

The other problem is that Next simply doesn't have enough of a budget to pull off all the really cool special effects in the film. The worst is when Johnson drives a stolen car in front of a train; the train, the car, and the crash look like they were made on a Commodore 64. It takes away from an otherwise riveting scene.

The bad guys are non-descript Eurotrash. Their motivation is vague, although they seem to be so powerful that the bad guys even shadow the feds without being noticed. No wonder the only person who can defeat them is a psychic!

When Johsnon and Ferris team up, things really get going. There's nothing like watching a precog and a sniper work in tandem. Or a precog wending his way through a maze trapped with bombs. Or a precog...well, you get the picture. It's fun stuff.

Throughout the movie, Next plays fast and loose with the timeline. At any point in time, we're never sure if we're seeing the future or if Johnson is actually experiencing the future. Depending on your perspective, this is either an interesting twist on the action genre or really annoying. The ending pivots on the phrase, "I made a mistake..."

Was it a mistake? I don't think so. This little movie works with what it has. Sometimes it might overreach, but for the most part it's an exciting science fiction action thriller.

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Ocean's Thirteen

I enjoyed Ocean's Twelve. I skipped Ocean's Eleven. I heard good things about Ocean's Thirteen, so I downloaded it.

Ocean's Thirteen is supposed to be better than Twelve; the characters are emotionally invested in the plot (as opposed to the first movie, where they were apparently needed the money, I guess) because this time they're out for revenge. Reuben Tishkoff (Elliot Gould) invests in some properties only to have it forcibly taken from him in a move of Trumpian proportions by the nefarious Willie Bank (Al Pacino). Poor Tishkoff suffers...a stroke? A broken heart? Some kind of nondescript medical condition that leaves him bed-ridden? Our boys are loaded with cash, so it's just a matter of humiliating Bank, returning the property to Tishkoff, and making a quick buck in the process.

The fact that they have to ally with Terry Benedict (Andy Garcia) is supposed to make the movie even more hilarious. But it doesn't matter, because our heroes take it in stride. In fact, there's never a moment in the film when we actually feel like things might go sour.

There's a lot of problems with Ocean's Thirteen, not the least of which is the superhero status of our Justice League of Swinging Hip Guys. There's too many of them. They're all really rich at this point. And it's hard to conceivably rouse them into action, even if one of their buddies got hurt. Or to put it another way, when Superman can punch you through a wall with his fist, does he really get that upset if you cut him off in traffic? Does he even drive in traffic?

Bank is supposed to be a really mean guy, but Pacino barely gets to tear up the scenery because it's crowded with a dozen other actors. So he's only sorta mean. He's also really, really paranoid, which makes breaking into his place a challenge. He invests in all kinds of technological defenses, including an artificial intelligence that uses face recognition to spot cheats. Bank is truly a wonder of the modern age.

Opposing this technological villain are our heroes, who kick it old school. And by old school, I mean they buy a gigantic drilling machine to cause an earthquake, thereby temporarily shutting down the computer security system and giving the team time to get in and get out.

This is pretty much where the movie broke down for me. They bought a giant drill to get revenge on this guy? Seriously? When you have that much money, why not buy a big satellite laser and just nuke the guy from orbit?

There are other nearly interesting plots, like the one in which Linus Caldwell (Matt Damon) decides he's up to the challenge of seducing Bank's right hand woman, Abigail Sponder (the SMOKING hot Ellen Barkin). And what do we get? Caldwell ends up using some ridiculous technological doodad to knock her off her heels, which seems suspiciously similar to a date-rape drug. If the movie was trying to make a statement about outwitting your opponent vs. using technology, it failed. If it was trying to imitate the Rat Pack, I don't think drugging the hot chick (no matter how old she is) is how you do it. And given that Barkin smolders on-screen, the fact that there's no actual pressing of flesh really makes the whole film into one big practical joke. If Ocean's Thirteen were trying to emulate the old style heist movies, you'd better believe Caldwell would be keeping the "cougar" busy. The greater sin is that this leaves Barkin with nothing to do than look stupid. She barely has any lines!

There's other stuff that happens, some of it meant to be funny that's not so funny. Basher Tarr (Don Cheadle, still using that ridiculous accent) gets to ham it up, which is a high point in the movie. He writes touching letters to poor old Tishkoff to bring him out of his funk, but we're robbed of any sentimental feeling because we never find out what's in the letters. And for reasons that don't make any sense to me, Brad Pitt and George Clooney are barely in the movie. It's almost as if the guys thought that their egos got in the way of the second film, so instead they'd make it all not about them in the third film and that would make it better.

It doesn't. Ocean's Thirteen is a photocopy of a photocopy. It feels like it's written by guys who didn't bother to see the original Ocean's Eleven and instead wanted to put in jokes about funny noses and "cougars." The allure of the Rat Pack is that they were men playing a boy's game. Ocean's Thirteen feels like boys playing a man's game.

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Bioshock

"Imagine that you are creating a fabric of human destiny with the object of making men happy in the end, giving them peace and rest at last, but that it was essential and inevitable to torture to death one tiny creature -- that baby beating its breast with its fist, for instance -- and to found that edifice on its unavenged tears, would you consent to be the architect on those conditions?"

--Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov
I didn't really want BioShock. The name didn't exactly thrill me, and the concept was a little hazy. Some guy underwater in the 50s being attacked by weird monsters in diving suits? What the heck was that all about? But my brother talked the game up so much that I put it on my wish list. I got it for my birthday and was instantly hooked.

BioShock has a vision, just like its creator/villain, Andrew Ryan (Armin Shimerman). And that vision is Rapture, an underwater city built with 1940s style architecture and Ayn Rand's (note the similarities to Andrew Ryan's name) principles. You are plane crash survivor named Jack and you are trapped in a hell that was once supposed to be Eden.

BioShock's central philosophical question is the plight of children. There are Little Sisters wandering throughout the complex, little girls who have been merged with some kind of mutant parasite that allows them to process ADAM from dead bodies. ADAM is a mutagen that bestows superpowers on whomever uses them, which puts the girls in a precarious position. Fortunately for them, they are protected by Big Daddies, diving suit-wearing behemoths with drills and rivet guns.

Running around Rapture are the shattered remains of civilization, the Splicers. These poor people are deranged; listening to them at length is a sanity-straining experience. Warped by their own mutations, Splicers argue with each other, weep over their fate, and of course try to kill you. Throw in a series of automated weaponry and robots dedicated to snuffing out all who cross Ryan's path and you've got one exciting first-person shooter.

BioShock is retro-sci-fi, all viewed through a 50s lens. There are hilarious instructional videos that explain how the various mutations work, vending machines that cheerfully solicit you, and public service announcements worthy of a Leave it to Beaver episode.

BioShock is well written. The plots take twists and turns and the villains aren't who you'd think. It's well acted too. You meet very few sane people, but interactions are largely through old-style cassette tapes that play in creepy, grainy fashion as you stalk the halls of Rapture. I'll still be haunted by one actor screaming, "I CAN'T TAKE OFF THE F****ING EARS!" over and over.

The graphics are phenomenal. Fire and water are rendered realistically, with bits of water beading on the screen. The Splicers are all creepy, from mask-wearing debutantes to crazy doctors in surgical masks, to Spider Splicers who crawl along the ceiling. And the Big Daddies are disturbing and a little pathetic, groaning and moaning as they pound their way through Rapture.

The game play is fun. A variety of styles can be used to win the game. Bad at combat (like me)? No problem; hack the robots and automated weapon systems using a series of tube puzzles. I'm a sucker for puzzle games, so the hacking really hooked me and kept the game from ever getting boring. I got really good at hacking. More than once I turned the entire security system against the bad guys. Using the right mutations, you can be stealthy, you can just blast your way through, or you can even turn your enemies against each other.

BioShock also gets all the basics of gameplay right. If you get lost, it tells you where to go. It helpfully lists your goals. A map is always available. These should be ingrained in every game created post 2000, and yet it's far too rare.

But back to the Little Sisters. The main question BioShock asks is: would you harm a little girl to get ahead? Maybe it's just the fact that I have a newborn son, but I found the idea revolting. You're given a choice with every Little Sister you rescue, harvesting her or saving her. Harvesting kills the girl and garners more ADAM, while saving her gives you less ADAM but the gratitude of their creator (who gives you a gift for every three girls you save). It struck a chord with me, and soon I was determined to save every one of the little girls.

I thought this was just yet another means of BioShock hooking you into the game. But in actuality your decisions in how you treat the Little Sisters affects BioShock's conclusion. The Little Sisters are integral to the plot and how the game ends. They are the future, the future Ryan claimed he wanted but could never see.

Everyone else I've spoken to gleefully cracked the little girls open and took their stuff. As one gamer put it, "I'm a powergamer and that helped me get ahead faster, so of course I killed them." I still find that notion chilling. In fact, the very first opportunity to harm or save a Little Sister is very traumatic, with the little girl begging for her life. I couldn't bear the thought of killing one, even in a sci-fi video game. Maybe I'm getting soft.

In the end, BioShock isn't just a retro sci-fi shooter. It's a moral test. Of us.

"No, I wouldn't consent," said Alyosha softly.

--Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

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Spider-Man 3

I still nurse a grudge against Joel Silverman for mucking up the Batman series by stuffing it with way too many villains in the belief that it somehow bolsters the franchise. And yet I understand: each supervillain means another toy, another lunchbox, another backpack that gets created. They are literally worth millions, and to justify the budgets of superhero movies, action figures and other returns add up.

But that's a cynical way of looking at it. What happened to just focusing on making a good movie?

Spider-Man 3, as you guessed, fell victim to the same problem. And that's a shame. At one point my wife turned to me and said, "you know, this movie isn't nearly as bad as everyone made it out to be." I agreed with her. It was the scene when Peter was talking to Aunt May about proposing to Mary Jane.

Fifteen minutes later, she changed her mind.

Raimi does an excellent job of taking the superhero foibles and following them to their logical conclusion. In a lot of ways, it's not unlike being a famous actor. Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) learns that just because he's Spider-Man doesn't mean he can kiss girls in public while hanging upside from a web, ESPECIALLY if she's a hottie (the delectable Bryce Dallas Howard as Gwen Stacy). When things are looking great for Parker, Mary Jane Watson's (Kirsten Dunst, seeming a bit deflated in this film) career is tanking. Sounds familiar, like something you'd read in a tabloid...

Raimi and his cast handle all of these issues with grace. And I don't mean Topher Grace, who plays Eddie Brock and later Venom. There are no less than three villains in this film, one being Sandman (Thomas Haden Church playing Flint Marko, and he nails the look), the other being Venom the alien parasite. And we can't forget Harry Osborn (James Franco) as the new Goblin. At various points in the film, it feels like bad guys just get thrown at Parker while he's driving down the street.

Mind you, the special effects are amazing. This is the first true, knockdown, drag out superhero battle that pulls no punches. Between Goblin's aerial antics, Sandman's shapeshifting, and the amazing acrobatics of Spider-Man, this movie is so action packed with amazing feats of strength and agility that it's hard to look away.

There's a convoluted connection to Marko that at least explains why he's in the film. But Venom is another story. He literally drops out of the sky, sneaks into Parker's room, and then takes him over. The concept of Venom is already ludicrous to begin with: an alien parasite that bonds with people but mimics Spider-Man's powers during the Secret Wars on Battleworld, placed there by a being known as the Beyonder. Hey, it was the 80s, give Marvel a break.

A lot of the back-story is jettisoned in exchange for...no back-story at all. The parasite just shows up in an asteroid. It bonds with Spider-Man's suit. It turns him evil. For no reason.

Other stuff like this happens. At one point, Osborn threatens Mary Jane, forcing her to break it off with Peter or he'll kill him. And she does. When Spider-Man defeats Goblin (and, near as I can tell, killed him), nothing further is mentioned. Doesn't Mary Jane want to explain what she did and why? How come the police weren't called, when the first near-death experience with Goblin ends up (realistically) in an emergency room? Don't even get me started on the amnesia that strikes Osborn at a convenient moment...

And so it goes. Sandman is practically invincible, so fights with him are pointless. We get an interesting back-story about his drive to save his daughter from illness, but then the film does nothing with it. And since Sandman can fly (news to me), he's like a ghost. You can't beat him. Which makes one wonder...why fight Spider-Man at all? And certainly, why would a powerful immortal-level being like Sandman team up with Venom, a crazy alien nutjob?

We don't get our answers. Spider-Man has an overarching theme of forgiveness, but I found it difficult to forgive the obvious cramming of too many ideas. I suspect this is the installment where principal actors bow out. I can't blame them.

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Lovecraft

I was hooked on Lovecraft comics after picking up Fall of Cthulhu on a whim. I loved every frame.

That prompted me to hunt down other Cthulhu comics that, rather than retelling the same stories (which I'd much rather read in text form), added to the canon with their own bizarre tales. I discovered Yuggoth Cultures by Alan Moore; still reading through it, but really enjoying the stories.

So it was with no small measure of glee when I picked up Lovecraft, the Vertigo comic. Lovecraft details the life story of Howard Phillips Lovecraft, a sad tale of a child prodigy who struggled with his potential. The comic merely adds a layer of the supernatural and bizarre over Lovecraft's own, which is a lot easier to do than one might think given that Lovecraft's father and mother were both committed and died in mental hospitals. By giving Lovecraft a dual life in the Dreamlands as Randolph Carter (a fact, as Lovecraft's "The Statement of Randolph Carter" was based on a transcription of one of his vivid dreams) and possession of the Necronomicon, we have a tale of one man against the unknown. Poor Lovecraft transforms from a struggling, brilliant author to a lone hero against the dark.

There are two components that are critical in bringing any Lovecraftian work to life. The first is, obviously, the depiction of the horrible things that gibber and meep in the darkness. Lovecraft's descriptions were always vague and alien, bordering on the indescribable, so artists must be willing to exercise their imaginations in what despicable things lurk beyond our perception. Artist Enrique Breccia does an admirable job with his watercolor-type panels. When grotesque monstrosities appear, they are blurry and smeared, as if difficult to perceive even by the reader. They are also suitably disturbing - tentacles appear from nether-regions, monsters violate Lovecraft's family in horrible ways, and overall one gets the sense that the gloves are off - in this modern day, it's possible to depict horror in all its ugly details in a fashion Lovecraft never dared.

The other important part of a Lovecraft comic is the depiction of terror. Lovecraft's stories are as much about contact with the alien as they are about the inability for the human mind to cope. Depicting madness and shrieking horror can be challenging for artists. Again, Breccia is more than capable, with grinning, vacant stares, bloody mouths, and lips peeled back in sheer revulsion.

There are elements that don't always work. I've been spoiled by Fall of Cthulhu, which uses vivid colors for the Dreamlands and cleaner artwork for the waking world. In Lovecraft, with Breccia's style throughout, the transition is sometimes unclear. And because all the artwork blurs, male characters sometimes look alike, making it difficult to distinguish who is who.

But those are minor quibbles. As a horrific retelling of Lovecraft's life, the graphic novel does an excellent job. Unfortunately, reality made it all too easy: insanity, depression, and death haunted the Lovecraft family.

And so the circle is complete; Lovecraft has become the horror he created. It makes for an entertaining and tragic read. Now that I know Lovecraft's background (both faux and real), all his stories are tinged with a bit of sadness.

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Mel Gibson's Apocalypto

My father saw Apocalypto, bought the movie, and demanded I watch it. So on Christmas Eve, my brother, my father, and I gathered around to watch a heartwarming family movie about human sacrifice.

I knew a lot more about Aztec and Mayan culture than my relatives, so much of what happened (or was about to happen) took on special significance for me. When Jaguar Paw's (Rudy Youngblood) tribe is attacked by the Aztecs and carried off instead of killed, we know it's not to live a life of slaves. It's something much worse.

Jaguar Paw's pregnant wife and young child manage to evade capture by lowering themselves into a well, but they're trapped there. If it rains, they drown. If the Aztecs find them, they're sacrificed. And thus we have a race against time, as Jaguar Paw must both escape captivity and pursuit, all in an effort to save his young family from certain doom.

Apocalypto encompasses everything you ever wanted to know about Aztecs. It's all here: black panthers, Aztec martial prowess, steaming jungles, ziggurats, and a twist ending that ties it all neatly in a historical bow. If the movie wasn't so violent, high school teachers every would be showing this movie as a snapshot of history.

The violence is actually not that bad. A scene where an Aztec is mauled by a panther is more graphic than the heart sacrifices performed atop the grisly temples. Much more exciting are the thrilling chase and combat sequences, some of the best on foot.

Given that this is a film about a time before modern convention, it's amazing how Gibson fits in movie conventions usually associated with car chases. There are twists in Jaguar Paw's escape and his hunt by the Aztecs that are worthy of any action movie.

Did I mention that this entire movie is subtitled? The movie's so enthralling that you stop noticing it a few seconds in. Apocalypto's that good. Sure, it's a blood-drenched action thriller in another language. But what did you expect from Mel Gibson?

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S.W.A.T.

MT: For a bit of a twist on the usual interview, I've decided to interview SWAT the movie about the movie SWAT.

SWAT: Hi, how are ya?

MT: I'm great. So let's cut to the chase: SWAT the movie is a remake of the 1970s television show. The acronym stands for Special Weapons and Tactics, and it glamorizes the police teams that are brought in when military-style tactics are required for an increasingly violent criminal opposition. I love that kind of military drama, and SWAT has a lot of potential. Bringing the television show into the 21st century seems like a no brainer. So what does the movie have to offer?

SWAT: Well we have a returning tough guy, Sgt. Dan "Hondo" Harrelson (Samuel L. Jackson), who puts together a team of equally tough dudes and dudettes: Jim Street (Colin Farrell), Chris Sanchez (Michelle Rodriguez), Deacon "Deke" Kay (LL Cool J), and some other people that aren't as popular.

MT: I know who's in the movie. What's it about?

SWAT: Oh, right, sorry. It's about how Jim has a falling out with his partner Brian Gamble (Jeremy Renner) and that comes back to haunt him.

MT: I just read the IMDB entry and it says the movie is about an imprisoned drug kingpin offering a huge cash reward for anyone who will spring him out of custody. That sounds cool. So which is it?

SWAT: Oh it's about that too. That's the second part of the movie. The first part is the SWAT training.

MT: The first PART?

SWAT: C'mon, everybody's gotta be trained, right?

MT: But it takes up the first half of the movie?!

SWAT: Well, sure. The tension builds as we watch our rookie team gel. Will Deke run fast enough to catch bad guys? Will Street reconcile his bad boy reputation with his strait-laced boss? Will Sanchez be tough enough to survive SWAT?

MT: Uh, you mean Michelle Rodriguez, who also played tough-as-nails chicks in Resident Evil and Lost? It's not exactly a surprise that she can keep up, since Sanchez is pretty much like every other character Rodriguez plays in other movies. Heck, she was even played the same character in Halo 2. While we're on the subject of actors, what's up with Street? Is he supposed to be American? He doesn't sound like it.

SWAT: ...well. See Colin doesn't really do accents. So, he sort of has this mishmash of tough guy speak and his normal dialect.

MT: Wow. Okay, let's forget the actors for a moment. The tactics and training that took up the first half of the film seem to go out the window when Gamble has an opportunity to take a hostage but instead uses the woman as an anchor by tying a rope to her and jumping off a bridge. That doesn't seem very SWAT-ish to me.

SWAT: ... Did I mention the cool theme song to SWAT? It's really cool. The cast hums it in one scene--*starts humming the song loudly*

MT: Yeah, thanks, SWAT. To sum up...

SWAT: *stars humming the song even louder*

MT: To sum up, SWAT is a movie conflicted about what it wants to be when it grows up. It has a lot of attitude but not a lot of meat. Its central conceit, the idea of a team escorting a bad guy to a destination, is excellent, but not really the kind of thing that you would expect out of SWAT...and it certainly doesn't mimic the training that takes up the first half of the film. All that, and the final fight scene is filmed in near total darkness. Rent the 1970s show if you feel nostalgic. This movie is just riding on its coattails.

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Halo 3

I came into Halomania with Halo 2 on the original Xbox. During the time we waited for Halo 3, I played Gears of War online with an expanding circle of friends, including the Geezer Gamers (look 'em up). We chafed at the eight-man team maximum and were itching to play in the larger sandbox that was Halo 3.

My wife bought the Halo 3 Limited Edition the day it came out. Did I mention I love my wife?

There's been so many reviews about Halo 3 that there's little new I can contribute here. The campaign is serviceable, but takes itself a little too seriously. Viewing the web site for Halo 3 is unintentionally hilarious, treating the game like a World War II memorial, as if it has that much emotional gravitas. It doesn't; the hinted-at relationship between Master Chief (Steven Downes) and Cortana (Jen Taylor) gets a little silly at times, the stalwart allies die heroically, bad guys become allies and then betray you later, and aliens natter on about setting off the Halo rings and destroying the universe. The talking plant known as the Gravemind (Dee Bradley Baker) doesn't make an appearance, but his voice is ever present. In fact, the game uses the awful method of flashbacks, both from Cortana and Gravemind, to interrupt game play and force the plot down your throat. It gets old fast. The game reaches a rollicking conclusion with a crazy Warthog chase across collapsing platforms that recaptures some of the fun of Halo 2. The ending is predictable but well earned.

But forget the campaign. The real beauty of Halo is the multiplayer game. I play the game every Wednesday night (look for Talien) and we play Team Slayer with sixteen people at once. It's great fun, and the boards provide an endless array of challenges that make Halo 3 the excellent multiplayer experience we've come to expect.

There are some changes. The graphics are better, but not much better. I miss the value of a perfect reload from Gears of War. Speaking of Gears of War, Halo's environments aren't as destructible. And my favorite tactic, two-fisted Needler-ing, has been rendered obsolete. In fact, Needlers don't track nearly as well as they used to.

There are new guns and vehicles, but the biggest change is the ability to remove heavy machineguns from their mounts and walk around the board, mowing people down. I've had more kills using this new tactic than using all the other weapons combined. As for vehicles, there's a new bike and an enormous beast known as the Elephant that I'm fond of driving (I flipped an Elephant once, ask me about it some time). Speaking of war stories, there's also a neat function that allows you to view replays and share it with friends.

The packaging of LE of Halo 3 isn't very practical. Made of metal, the package I received was warped. Since the piece that holds the disc in the box is also made of metal, the disc was banging around inside the case. Even the booklet, which is in the center of the container, was warped. No wonder the discs in some copies were scratched!

Despite the changes from Halo 2, Halo 3's multiplayer can't be beat. It's a testament to the game's staying power that we come back to it every Wednesday.

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Borat - Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

By the time I finally saw Borat, every detail of the movie had been reported in detail in the media. Part of Borat's hilarity is that it matches our hunger for reality-show type interaction with candid camera type events and in doing so, exposes the bigotry of its unwitting cast.

The plot is almost beside the point, so I won't go over it in detail here. Suffice it to say that Borat Sagdiyev (Sacha Baron Cohen) is a journalist new to America from Kazakhstan, making a film with his producer Azamat Bagatov (Ken Davitian). They film every experience, from Borat singing a national anthem at a rodeo to Borat hitching a ride with drunk frat boys, Borat running naked in a hotel to Borat attending classes on social etiquette.

Contrary to what the many lawsuits that arose from this film, most of the American citizens compose themselves admirably. Sure, there's the occasional bigoted jerk, but said jerks are easy to spot. If you're shocked about a gun shop owner not blinking when Borat asks for a "gun to kill a Jew" then you haven't been to a gun shop.

And perhaps that's part of the humor. Borat visits places we know exist in America but haven't been there ourselves, and it shows the worst and best we have to offer in typical American fashion...by pointing a camera at it.

But I don't buy it.

One of the key elements of a magician's art is deception. The magician will tell you he has nothing up his sleeve, but he most certainly does. People picked from the audience who supposedly don't know the magician are actually trained plants. In short, magicians lie and we believe them because we want to.

Similarly, Cohen's crafted a charade that this is all raw footage, and yet there's the omnipresent camera with its boom microphone and glaring lights. It's clear that the subjects, if they aren't in on the joke, are certainly pandering to the camera. Until we invent floating invisible cameras or simply violate peoples' rights to make good television, this will always be the case.

Borat is rude, crude, and hilarious. But the amount of navel-gazing it created on behalf of the nation due to its supposedly candid look at America is unwarranted. In the tradition of our reality TV culture, Borat is as authentic as...well, reality TV shows.

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Pathfinder

A long time ago, a Columbus scholar came to my undergrad college to continue a debate about the significance of Columbus' discovery of America. I, being the snarky student that I was, asked a question around the Viking discovery of America: why didn't the Vikings mention battles with the skraelings (the Viking name for American Indians) more?

The professor's response: "They came from fish and ice and when they got to North America, it was more fish and ice. The skraelings were more of a nuisance than anything."

I always thought the notion of battles between Vikings and Native Americans would make a good movie. Sure enough, along comes Pathfinder about precisely that.

Almost.

Of course, Hollywood had to go and muck up the idea. So instead of the plot really being about a Native American warrior fighting Vikings, it's about a Viking (read: a white guy) raised by the natives. Instead of portraying the Native American warriors as worthy opponents, they're cast as complete morons incapable of detecting a simple pit trap constructed by our protagonist. Instead of crafting a compelling tale about a clash between two very different cultures, Pathfinder turns into every Hollywood cliché imaginable, from a lone warrior leading his enemies onto thin ice to skiing down a mountain slope on a shield.

Pathfinder is far more interested with its cinematography. The movie is shot like scenes from a Frank Frazetta painting, with faceless horned warriors and rippling muscles wielding wicked-looking axes and flails overhead. Great stuff for paintings, not so great for a movie.

300 did all of this, from the digitally inserted blood to the culture clash, heroic speeches to demonized villains, only better. By the time stock footage of an avalanche appeared on screen, my hopes for Pathfinder were dashed along with the Vikings on the rocks.

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Hot Fuzz

I loved Shaun of the Dead, so I expected that same magical combination of action, humor, and homage in Hot Fuzz. And that's mostly what I got. Mostly.

Simon Pegg is Nicholas Angel, a super cop that is driving the London bobbies mad because he's so good at his job. To keep him out of their hair, the London office sends Angel to a little town known as Sandford. There, he is teamed up with Danny Butterman (Nick Frost), a bit of a slob who wants to be a good cop but learned most of it from watching movies like Point Break and Bad Boys.

Life's pretty boring in Sandford, but there's more than meets the eye. Like every good film made by British blokes, the city folk are secretly suspicious of the common people. And that of course means there's a cult lurking about that must be stopped. It all has something of a Wicker Man feel to it.

The first half of the film is something of a murder mystery, as black clad assailants reminiscent of Scream brutally off witnesses. Once Angel and Butterman discover the truth, the film degenerates into an all out gun-fest, including acrobatics, car chases, foot chases, and wicked one liners.

The problem with Hot Fuzz is that it's shot exactly like Shaun of the Dead, complete with the cut scenes, character dialogue, and gore. Frost is playing almost the exact same character from the first film, except that instead of being a useless drug dealer he's a useless cop instead.

And then there's the gore. I've seen a lot of buddy cop shows and none of them are as disgustingly gory as the murders in Hot Fuzz. It's as if the movie was filmed by horror buffs who like action films, but they didn't know precisely how to create an action film so they went with what they know best - whenever a scene calls for gore, the movie goes way over the top. This includes one victim's head exploding on screen as a church spire drives down into his ribcage (we get to watch him stumble about a few seconds, sans head) and another church spire, this time in miniature, stabbing through a man's throat and up through his tongue and out his mouth. I mean, seriously...Scream wasn't this gross and it was a horror movie.

The movie wraps up with our intrepid cops blowing up a bunch of old people. Which is either hilarious or a little tiresome, depending on what you thought of the film up to that point.

Although the interaction between Angel and Butterman are entertaining, Hot Fuzz's pacing is uneven, which is a shame. Pegg and Wright's enthusiasm for the genre is infectious, but in this case they'd be better off renting cop movies than making one.

Those church spire scenes still give me nightmares. *shudder*

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Shooter

In "Microtrends," a new book by pollster Mark Penn, 1 percent of Californians between the ages of 16 and 22 expected to be military snipers in 10 years. Why? "Aspiring snipers are evidence of a patriotic generation, who see sniping--a profession requiring reserve and cool in a war without front lines--as the new "Top Gun" military profession." Mix this particular factoid with the "other gunman" conspiracy theory and you have Shooter.

Mark Wahlberg plays Bob Lee Swagger, a military sniper abandoned during a field op. His best friend dies in the ensuing fracas, but Swagger survives to become one of those militia-type recluses who lives alone with his dog in the mountains, spouting conspiracy theory. He's just the kind of antihero America needs, and it's not long before Colonel Isaac Johnson (Danny Glover) asks for his help in serving the country once more. It seems an assassination attempt is planned against the President, and only Swagger can plot out the sniper's moves before he actually makes them. Playing on Swagger's patriotic sympathies, Johnson lures him out into the open and...

Spoiler alert! But seriously, you saw this coming, right?

Surprise, surprise, in retracing the steps of a would-be assassin, Swagger is framed AS the assassin! An all-out manhunt ensues, with Swagger enlisting allies like the girlfriend of his dead buddy (tasty Kate Mara as Sarah Fenn) and an agent in the wrong place at the wrong time (Michael Pena as Nick Memphis). Seems the good Colonel is actually a subversive government agent working for a Dick Cheney-esque senator, Charles F. Meachum (Ned Beatty).

Thus ensues a cat-and-also-cat game between Swagger and everyone else as they struggle to track down a ghost who strikes like a thunderbolt out of the blue. The twists and turns, the blatant pandering to conspiracy theory, and the demonizing of a Republican-run government are all very entertaining or insulting, depending on your views. And Shooter delivers in spades, with plenty of head shots that make this movie the modern descendant of Rambo.

Unfortunately, Shooter is also highly predictable. Swagger's inevitable betrayal is obvious from the start. And the fact that the government agents might not be good guys is clearly telegraphed by Elias Koteas, who dresses like a bad guy in his black suit and tie, and even adjusts it once, goodfella style. I mean, the guy's name is Jack Payne for crying out loud! Why not just call him Major Blood and be done with it?

Still, Shooter is very entertaining. There's enough skin, violence, humor and conspiracy theory to keep an audience entertained. The ending may be complete wish fulfillment, but it's extremely satisfying. Those Californians will have plenty of reasons to want to be snipers by the end of this film.

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Superman: Doomsday

I wasn't paying much attention when Superman died. It passed without fanfare in my geekiverse because I knew that Superman would come back, the same way I keep expecting Captain America to pop up any day now.

Amazon Unbox downloaded this movie to my Tivo right after it taped the introduction of Superman to The Batman cartoon series, the current anime-inspired version of Batman. And to my surprise, all of the voice actors from the Justice League cartoon series were back in the Batman cartoon: George Newbern as the serious Superman, Dana Delaney as the sarcastic Lois Lane, and Clancy Brown as the debonair and devious Lex Luthor. With both on my Tivo, it was easy to make a comparison between the two animated depictions of Superman.

Warning: This review contains spoilers. RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

The character designs have been altered a bit from the Superman animated series. Superman (voiced by Adam Baldwin) has bizarrely drawn cheekbones in this movie. Everyone else more or less looks the same, although Lex Luthor (voiced by James Marsters) is a "white guy" again; the Superman cartoon cast him as a Kojak-like darker skinned man who became progressively lighter skinned in each incarnation. Lois (voiced by Anne Heche, of all people) still looks like Lois, wearing impossibly short skirts and yet achieving an amazing range of athletic moves. Three cheers for animated physics!

Superman: Doomsday really enjoys its PG-13-ness. People say funny cuss words like "freaking," have relations, and die -- bloodlessly, but they still die. This is an animation for grown-ups, folks!

The voice actors do a suitable job. Heche is actually the best of the bunch, providing a full range of emotions to Lois. Adam Wylie is great as Jimmy Olsen, but I don't give him quite as much props as he's not exactly new to the DC animation universe (he's the voice of Brainiac 5 in Legion of Super-Heroes). The most egregious loss is Brown as Lex Luthor. Clancy Brown's gravelly baritone has always given the character a subtle menace. In Superman: Doomsday, Lex is just a bald guy with an attitude.

And thus we have the first of several problems with this movie. Lex is a one-dimensional villain bent on destroying Superman. You know you're in trouble when you can make "he's so evil..." jokes. For example:
  • Lex is so evil, he has the cure for cancer but doesn't share it with the world!
  • He's so evil, he has a special room created just for beating up Superman!
  • He's so evil, he shoots his own henchmen to cover up his operations!
Lex practically cackles his way through the entire series and is so patently unlikable that he hardly seems like an actual foil for Superman. In fact, the only noteworthy contribution Lex contributes is his gripe that Superman was killed by an "intergalactic soccer hooligan!" I have to agree with him.

After a long, protracted fight with a goofy-looking muscle-bound gargoyle named Doomsday, Superman dies.

What made the death of Superman so important was the way the writers dealt with his death. Superman is as much a divine being and an iconic symbol as he is an alien who protects Earth; his death had emotional repercussions on the level of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, and the comics made a point of showing what a world without Superman was like. His death helped create Steel and Superboy and other heroes I didn't keep track of because I wasn't reading the comics at the time.

You won't find any of that here. We have a few minutes of mourning, a few minutes of revelations (Lois knew Superman's identity, Lois meets Martha Kent, Lois and Superman were getting it on), and then Superman returns. Only he's mean.

And so, Superman: Doomsday isn't just about Superman dying at the hands of a super villain - it's about Superman being the not-so-noble guy we always knew he could be. This new, resurrected version acts with brutal efficiency. That's most epitomized by his murder of the Toyman after Superman 2.0 discovers that Toyman escape from prison and killed a little girl in a hostage crisis.

There's a reckoning, of course: two Supermen battling it out, comparable to the Doomsday fight only with more blood and clever asides. And like the end of the movie, punch for punch, the old Superman (Animated Series) beats the new Superman (Doomsday), hands down.

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Overlord

I didn't start out planning to be an evil overlord.

When I found out that Overlord was a cross between Dungeon Keeper (where you get to play the bad guy in a fantasy world) and Pikmin (where you get to control different colored carrot people in quests), I was sold.

My first impressions of Overlord was that I was playing Sauron, back when he was still a horse-headed giant-type, before all that all-seeing angry red eye on top of a tower business. As Overlord you are in charge of goblins, who come in four flavors: brown, red, blue, and green. Fans of Pikmin (or any video game on the planet) know how this works: blues are immune to water, greens are immune to poison, etc. These diabolical minions accompany your Overlord everywhere as you rampage around the countryside reclaiming your evil inheritance. You know, cleaning up the tower, reclaiming all your minions, and finding a naughty girl to settle down with.

Being an Overlord is rather domestic, apparently.

-----+= EVIL OVERLORD RULE #24: I will maintain a realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. Even though this takes some of the fun out of the job, at least I will never utter the line "No, this cannot be! I AM INVINCIBLE!!!" (After that, death is usually instantaneous.) =+-----


I started out feeling very charitable to the peasants of Spree, returning their food from the evil halflings. I discovered that Overlord is basically a cynical view of Lord of the Rings, with all the heroes being horrible hypocrites, and thus truly the villains. Compared to Melvin Underbelly the gluttonous halfling, the Oberon the slothful elf, Sir William the lecherous lord, Goldo the greedy dwarf, Jewel the envious and Kahn the wrathful. The seven deadly sins, wrapped up in fantasy stereotypes, all waiting to be defeated.

There are two paths you can pursue in Overlord. Be nice to people and do good deeds (or at least, not particularly evil deeds) and you can pursue the path of Lawful Evil, for those of you who know D&D. Be mean and it's a downward spiral into Chaotic Evil. These choices reflect how the various characters interact with you, from the lowliest peasant to your mistress of choice. I started out trying to be relatively nice, if only because all the walkthroughs I consulted whenever I got stuck took me down that path.

Then I was on a quest to save some stupid sacred Tree of Life in a stupid sacred elf forest and in an attempt to stop two bloody unicorns (no, really, they're unicorns covered with blood) from killing me, I used a fire spell...and set the Tree of Life on fire. This in turn set the whole forest ablaze, bloody unicorns, elves, and all, who went up in a screaming conflagration.

Well that pretty much dashed any hopes of my redemption right there and I started considering an evil path. I felt bad about the whole thing and was actually considering making it up to the elves, maybe by planting some trees or something...

Until I met Velvet.

-----+= EVIL OVERLORD RULE #49: If I learn the whereabouts of the one artifact which can destroy me, I will not send all my troops out to seize it. Instead I will send them out to seize something else and quietly put a Want-Ad in the local paper. =+-----


About halfway through the game you have the opportunity to take a mistress. Rose, Velvet's older and more straitlaced sister, calls your little goblins "pixies" and generally sets an imperious tone about your tower--MY tower, which I didn't invite her to. So when I had the opportunity to switch to the sleek little minx named Velvet, reclining in laced up stockings on her bed and promising Teen-rated services...I suddenly had a change of perspective.

Velvet's evil and she's not subtle about it. She constantly threatens, cajoles, and pouts throughout the game to get you to do more evil things. It worked. Oh how it worked! And when you give Velvet what she wants, she...reciprocates.

I'm not proud of this, but Xbox Live is. Because it has Mistress Master as a title. This has to be a new low. Or a new high, depending on your perspective.

Thus I became not just an evil overlord, but a really sadistic jerk. I went back to Spree and slaughtered every inhabitant, burned every building to the ground, and took all their stuff. Then I went back and enslaved their best-looking women as servants. I mean...somebody knows what 12-year-old boys want. I am not a 12-year-old boy, but I hope to be when I grow up.

Overlord is a glorious form of stress relief. You travel from area to area via your tower, slowly accumulating more minions and gold. You can upgrade your weapons, learn new spells, and of course evil-fy your tower. Because Velvet wants you to. And you should really do what Velvet tells you to do if you know what's good for you.

-----+= EVIL OVERLORD RULE #53: If the beautiful princess that I capture says, "I'll never marry you! Never, do you hear me, NEVER!!!" I will say "Oh well" and kill her. =+-----


Overlord can be repetitive at times, especially when you run out of minions and have to resort to "farming" lesser creatures to get the magical energy up to create new ones. Death has no penalties other than a loss of minions and starting over on a level, so there comes a tipping point where you are either clearly outmatched and thus have to spend more time mindlessly killing wimpy critters, or you are so powerful that you roll over everything in the game.

By the end of the game, I had a huge pile of gold in my coffers--you can visit your coffers and watch as the gold accumulates. I bought Velvet everything her wicked little heart desired and then some, from flaming demon-shaped fixtures to skull banners. And I had a shiny new set of armor and weapons. At one point I had ten female servants, Velvet lounging around, and Jewel in a cage in front of my throne. This is not a game that caters to females...unless your name happens to be Velvet.

It's good to be the Overlord.

(Rules courtesy of Peter Anspach's The Top 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord: http://www.eviloverlord.com/lists/overlord.html)

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The Bourne Supremacy

Where last we left Jason Bourne (Matt Damon), he was living in a secluded location with his new girlfriend. The Bourne Supremacy picks up where the Bourne Identity left off: Jason Bourne is a professional killer, a member of the Treadstone Group, who no longer remembers his identity. It turns out that Bourne is a perfect scapegoat for another murder, and it's not long before an assassination is pinned on him.

And that's the awkward thing about this installment in the Bourne series. Bourne's reason for involvement in the plot is basically summed up as "it seemed like a good idea at the time." Fortunately, Bourne slowly unearths information about his own past amidst the machinations of FBI, European assassins, and the Treadstone Group. Unfortunately, professional "bad guy" character actors play the bad guys. I guessed the twist upon his appearance. Hint: look for the slimy political type who has no reason to go along on the mission but gets told to do so anyway.

There are other problems: one of my pet peeves, the blurry memory cam. Bourne's done some very bad things in his past missions, the missions he supposedly can't remember, and the director decided to tell us by having Bourne remember through echoing, blurry shots. They get old, fast.

The trademark gritty fighting scenes are all here, including insane car chases (more like a series of car crashes), the clever turnabouts that you never see in other spy movies, and plenty of fisticuffs. Bourne Supremacy doesn't do everything right, but it has street-level action down perfectly.

By the end of the film we learn Bourne's full name. But that's a cop out: the Supremacy is more about Bourne proving that in the past he was never a very nice guy. That's hardly news.

Bourne Supremacy feels more like an episode in a series than a movie. Bourne fans won't be disappointed, but the rest of us will have to wait until the third installment comes out on DVD to see Bourne develop beyond an amnesiac killing machine.

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Friday, February 27, 2009

Meet the Fockers

Meet the Parents is one of those Ben Stiller vehicles that's so slapstick in its hilarity that it can actually make you feel uncomfortable. It's funny, but it's almost disturbingly funny, such that if you make the mistake of imagining yourself in Greg "Gaylord" Focker's (Ben Stiller) shoes, you want to hide under your seat.

Meet the Fockers takes the conceit of the original movie one step further. Greg's already met his fiancée's (Pam Byrnes, played by Teri Polo) family, including Pam's pleasant mother Dina (Blythe Danner), her nephew Jack (Spencer and Bradley Pickren), and her domineering father Jack (Robert De Niro). It's now time for that momentous meeting that all engaged couples dread: the family meeting. It's time, finally, to meet the parents who named their son Gaylord Focker.

Thus begins a road trip down to Florida to meet Greg's parents, played hippie pitch-perfect by Barbara Streisand as Rozalin (a special kind of therapist for older couples who want to be more intimate) and Dustin Hoffman as Bernie, the over-supportive, super-pal of a dad. Mix the Byrnes with the Fockers and stir.

The additional twist is Little Jack, representing a flashpoint of parenting debate. Jack's childrearing is strict and disciplinarian one hand (the Byrnes hand, if you couldn't guess) and the free-love, do-it-if-it-feels-good empowerment of the Fockers.

Streisand and Hoffman are the real treat here. Their parental struggles and angst, or lack thereof, are what make the film. If you're a fan of either, you won't be disappointed.

If you are recently married or have a kid, the movie's struggle over childrearing is a very funny debate indeed. If you don't, then Meet the Fockers is probably only mildly amusing. Since my son was born the same month I saw his movie, it had particular comedic resonance, and my parents (who are definitely Focker-types) and my wife laughed all the way through.

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Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters

If you're a fan of Aqua Teen Hunger Force (ATHF), you have very low expectations of the show. ATHF involves three symbols of fast food: the insane Master Shake (Dana Snyder), the lovably moronic Meatwad (Dave Willis), and the super-intelligent Frylock (Carey Means). They are exactly what they sound like: walking (sometimes floating), talking shakes, piles of meat, and boxes of fries. This is not an ironic fact lost on the producers; at various times, other people who encounter the Hunger Force (like Carl, the shut-in voiced by Dennis Franz) comment on the strangeness of these bizarre alien beings who happen to act like teenagers.

There are other beings who happen to harass our protagonists, including spiky aliens, aliens that look like they came from an Atari 2600 video game, and aliens that might be time traveling robot turkeys. But that's largely irrelevant, because ATHF isn't so much a universe as it is performance art, with the topic of the night playing out to its inevitable conclusion. In the vein of much British humor, plotlines and continuity are irrelevant. Characters argue with each other, fight with each other, and even kill each other. Sometimes, Frylock gets tired of his idiot roommates and just leaves. Sometimes, Master Shake's insanely far-fetched plans destroy the world. And sometimes, Meatwad kills Master Shake.

ATHF, unburdened by any real anchors to reality, is thus free to explore whatever, whenever, and wherever, the plot meandering to some illogical conclusion, often played for laughs but sometimes just to torture a particular character to death. 15 minutes of this is hilarious, and it's pretty obvious that ATHF is meant to be watched by college kids with short attention spans. And adults like me who have 15 minutes before going to work.

So why make a movie? Or to be more precise, why make a movie titled Aqua Teen Hunger Force Colon Movie Film for Theaters?

The dodge is that it reveals the origins of the ATHF, but that's silly. For one, ATHF's comedic value is precisely in the complete and utter lack of explanation as to why fast food is living in New Jersey. For another, ATHF is about conflict between various characters for no good reason other than to dance for our entertainment. And that's precisely what the movie does, although it wears a little thin after the prerequisite 15 minutes normally allocated to the television show.

Explaining the plot of the movie is pointless, because it's not meant to be explained. It involves a talking watermelon, a mad scientist, Bruce Campbell voicing a chicken McNugget (of course), Space Ghost, the reincarnated soul of MC Pee Pants, the CIA, jazzercising giant robots that poop little jazzercising robots, and Abraham Lincoln's time travel shenanigans. Aren't you sorry you asked?

Your perception of all this is really dependent on your perception of the show. It won't turn you into a fan. In fact, the entire intro is a joke on those "let's go out to the movies" dancing food characters, with various angry incarnations of movie junk food screaming to thrash metal, "You came here. Watch it. Don't like it? Walk out."

I didn't walk out. If you're a fan of ATHF, you won't either.

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Freeport: Crisis in Freeport

I run a Living Arcanis campaign, which also contains Freeport. With a wealth of material at my disposal, I decided to pick up Crisis in Freeport (CIF) to see how I could fit it into my campaign. I should point out that this is a long playtest review that contains spoilers galore. To help clarify what I did differently in my campaign, I will use a PLAYTEST tag.

CIF begins with the announcement that the Captain's Council, the ruling body that governs Freeport, has declared the Rule of Succession for the Sea Lord's throne null and void. Since the Sea Lord title is hereditary, that means the throne is up for grabs by anyone, including the other councilors. The news incites rioting in the streets, which leads to the city newspaper being burned to the ground, the murder of the Commissioner of the Sea Lord's Guard, women in need of saving, and a monster on the loose.
PLAYTEST: I combined this adventure with the final chapter of Black Sails Over Freeport. By having Drak, an orc, declare his lineage to the Sea Lord's throne, it was further incentive for the Captain's Council to invalidate the Rule of Succession. I ran the riots straight out of the adventure, with a few tweaks to the NPCs' names. I replaced the bulette with a two-headed dragon of my own creation that ended up killing our dwarf fighter. The gang who attacks the Sea God's Shrine was changed to a gang that attacks the God of Pirates shrine. I also inserted the orc riots from BSOF into the mix.
And this is where we start to get some bizarre content that skirts the "decency" rule in the Open Game License. It's repeatedly mentioned that the bad guys (all elves and half-elves) have been molested as children, that the pirates rape people before (and sometimes after!) they kill them, and that there's more than one opportunity to catch pirates "in the act." While most of this is easy to drop, it's certainly not in the fun spirit of the other Freeport adventures, none of which emphasized (over and over and OVER) that pirates "have a bit of fun" with their victims. I agree that Freeport needs to get a little more focused and a little more serious, but I felt that the way it was handled in this book was over-the-top. One of my players, my wife, found it to be simply offensive.

The other thing is that elves in my campaign wouldn't think of sullying themselves in such a fashion. And since this particular form of violence is motivated by racial hatred (elves vs. humans), the whole thing seems forced. It's all a bit squicky, in my opinion.

During the riots, Arias Soderheim, the only half-elf on the Council, has hired the elven Captain Allethra Sharpe to kidnap Lady Elise Grossette. Grosette is one of the good guys on the Council and a rival for the Sea Lord's throne. The PCs eventually follow the trail to an island during a thunderstorm, whereupon they face off against sahuagin led by an oddly named female villain (rhymes with witch, but I won't include it here as some filters will reject the review outright).
PLAYTEST: I changed the identity of the kidnapped NPC to a candidate the PCs were backing, Emric Ossan-Drac from a previous Living Arcanis adventure. Likewise, the attack by the sahuagin still happened but were led by Camring, also from a previous adventure, and his traitorous mother, Black Jenny Ramsey, AKA Sycorax.
Upon arriving on the island, the PCs sneak onto Sharpe's ship, The Knife, and find a pirate doing naughty things with a cabin boy. It turns out said cabin boy is a succubus. With clues from the ship's hold as to who hired Sharpe, the PCs land on the island, face off against serpent people ghouls, and finally to Felix's, a resort turned into the last stand for Sharpe and his pirates.

PLAYTEST: I kept the squicky pirate/boy encounter because it fit a decidedly squicky NPC named Talathiel that I took from another adventure. I did make a point of having the boy reveal himself to be a succubus. My PCs were suitably disgusted and dispatched Talathiel promptly.
Sharpe and his men are engaged in various acts of debauchery, but they are not without their firepower. Kyl, an elven evoker, and Dirty Malone, who is exactly like he sounds, join Sharpe in fighting to the bitter end. Then it's back to Freeport with Elise in tow for an emergency Council session: what to do about Soderheim?
PLAYTEST: I replaced all the NPCs with villains the PCs had encountered in the past. Sharpe's last stand was suitably climactic. I dropped all the other stuff involving pirates violating corpses.
The Captain's Council decides to have a meeting in the town square, only to suffer an assassination attempt. Assuming the PCs survive, they discover that Soderheim is holed up in a brothel. There, they face down Soderheim and his lieutenant in another climactic battle...when suddenly one of Freeport's massive cannons is pointed at the brothel and blows the building to smithereens!
PLAYTEST: I have to admit, I loved this idea. I further complicated Soderheim as a villain by having him protect elven interests, and holding hostage an elven PC. But when he realizes that the cannon is pointed at the brothel, Soderheim had a change of heart and dimension doored out with his hostage in the nick of time. Even though he released her, he later fell to his death and was ripped apart by angry Freeport citizens. Of all the parts of the adventure, this is the most exciting. One PC survived by diving out a window with a potion of fly. The other cast a sphere of force around himself at the last minute. Good stuff!
It seems someone paid the guardsmen who control the cannon to point it at the brothel in an effort to keep Soderheim from talking. That Continental spy shows up in the middle of the night to personally destroy the PCs, summoning a Zelekhut inevitable to join in the attack. This is perhaps the weakest part of the adventure: it makes little sense that a spy would engage PCs in an all out attack -- spies run away to fight again another day, not wage one-man wars against heavily armed PCs. In addition, the spy "convinces the zelekhut that the PCs have denied justice..." and "it's eager to destroy the PCs, almost as eager as the conspirator."

Seriously? Shall we pit the zelekhut's Sense Motive (+12) against the spy's Bluff (uh...he doesn't even have any points in the skill)? It defies belief and seems like the zelekhut was included for the sole purpose of utilizing its locate creature ability to find the PCs. And why is this lawful neutral spy lying to a creature of law? More importantly, why is the spy lawful neutral at all?
PLAYTEST: I changed the spy's identity (turns out we already had a Continental spy in the campaign named Cunegunda), changed the attack to actually be an accident, and changed the zelekhut to another monster entirely. The effect was still the same: an ambush in the middle of the night on the PCs can be extremely deadly. But it at least made a little more sense, and my PCs did indeed fight for their very lives.
At the conclusion, a not very convincing case is made for Marilise Morgan to be named Sea Lord. Apparently "the aggressiveness during the hunt for Soderheim endeared her not only to the other council members but also to the populace." -- which is hard to believe, since what amounts to aggressiveness on Morgan's part is that she "proposes not only arresting and trying Soderheim, but seizing his estates and banishing any of his blood relatives from Freeport." I'm sure such a bloodthirsty ruling suitably impressed all of Freeport's pirates!
PLAYTEST: I would have preferred the adventure making a case for each of the Council members, allowing the DM to choose from one of them, as opposed to the lame argument that Marilise (who took over for her corrupt brother) is somehow a shoo in for the position. In fact, during the assassination attempt in the square the DM is told to specifically spare Marilise so she can win the succession later. A little too heavy-handed for my tastes. In the end, Emric, an NPC the heroes had been struggling to protect for years, took the throne,. Or to put it another way, while Arias was built up as a villain throughout the Freeport supplements, Marilise is a nobody that comes out of nowhere to take the throne. It doesn't feel like she deserves it.
Overall, CIF is a deadly serious action adventure with a plot that moves briskly. From a riot to a hostage crisis, an assassination attempt to a crime boss raid, a midnight retaliation to plenty of politics, CIF provides enough fodder to wrap up a Freeport game. It's probably impossible to please every DM with the conclusion, but CIF does an adequate job of providing a definitive ending to a story arc. I just wish it were a little less squicky.

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Freeport: Tales of Freeport

I run a Living Arcanis campaign, which also contains Freeport. With a wealth of material at my disposal, I decided to pick up Tales of Freeport (TOF) to see how I could fit it into my campaign. I should point out that this is a long playtest review that contains spoilers galore. To help clarify what I did differently in my campaign, I will use a PLAYTEST tag.

The first adventure, Soul of the Serpent for PCs of 5th to 7th level, is a sequel of sorts to the original Freeport adventure trilogy. We find the former High Priest of the God of Knowledge (once known as Thuron and now known as the serpent person K'Stallo) skulking around in Freeport in human guise as the unimaginatively named Steel. His goal is to unite the serpent people through the teachings of Hitthkai, a peaceful sect that worships Yig. There is another, rival serpent priest named Ffashethh who preaches the way of Sskethvai, a more violent sect that is actually a front for the diabolical cult of the Unspeakable One. Ffashethh is actually a shapeshifting Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign cultist known as Corwin Laxton.

The PCs stumble into this mess when looking for Matthias Brack's daughter, who was captured as a sacrifice for the Sskethvai. With K'Stallo's help, the PCs hopefully rescue the girl, kill the bad guys, and escape before the Unspeakable One is summoned.

There are a few things that struck me as pointless in this adventure, not the least of which is the pages upon pages of information on what PCs might do to find the damsel in distress (like a listing of every organization who might help them out) and much less focus on what happens when the PCs finally find the bad guys. K'Stallo's people may or may not show up, the bad guys may or may not escape, and the climactic showdown between the Unspeakable One and Yig himself is optional. The adventure lacks focus and clarity -- the summary I gave above of all the NPCs and their motivations is more than you get from the adventure itself. For example, the name of Laxton's serpent man persona (Ffashethh) is only mentioned in passing.

One other thing: this adventure uses recycled maps from one of the other Freeport adventures, including the same room descriptions. In other words, it's recycling content, content that could have been used for something else entirely.
PLAYTEST: I used only the second half of the adventure and focused on the exciting parts. The Unspeakable One was summoned -- and Yig showed up to do battle. K'Stallo secretly attends the sacrifice in the arena, leading a surprise attack on Ffashethh's serpent people. This made the adventure very short but very exciting. Ironically, a fireball from the party's sorcerer did the job for Ffashethh when he accidentally killed all the hostages, summoning the Unspeakable One.
Overall this adventure gets a 3 out of 5. Not great but salvageable.

The Last Resort is supposedly an adventure for character of any level, although the text indicates 3rd through 6th level. It is basically a series of timed events that take place in an inn (the Last Resort, get it?). Encounters range from an assassination attempt to a kidnapping attempt by the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign, a game of chance with high stakes to a jilted husband, ghostly vengeance and a risen mummy. There's a lot going on here, and it all happens in fifteen-minute increments.
PLAYTEST: I changed the identities and names of the various NPCs but kept the events the same. To keep the action moving, Henry Tranco ran a game of chance with the PCs involved. I had the PCs play Three-Dragon Ante between every fifteen-minute increment, which kept the game interesting. The events in this adventure actually had tremendous repercussions throughout the rest of the campaign. I converted the mummy into a samat (a powerful serpent person from Nyambe) named Ffashethh, leading into the Soul of the Serpent adventure. Elijah Quelch, who is a minor dealer interested in the mummy, became a major recurring villain in the campaign. All in all, it was a great adventure...even though it's really more of an outline.
This adventure gets a 3 out of 5. It's got all the right ingredients but very little direction and again seems to miss the point -- why have a gambler play a high stakes game in a room "off camera" when the PCs could be directly involved?

Cut-Throat's Gold is for PCs of 4th through 7th level. I ran this adventure first, as it ended up being the location of the aforementioned mummy.
PLAYTEST: Because I had a lizardfolk PC in my campaign, this was a perfect hook for the party to visit his hometown. I also combined the city of Saltmarsh (converted to Sulfurmarsh from the DMG II) with this adventure. The PCs became quickly frustrated with the random encounters, even though I found them all very amusing. I converted Thomas Hariot the necromancer into a Death Master (a class from the Dragon Compendium) and gave him an undead minion, an Entomber, as a companion. Coupled with some nasty necromancer spells, a hostile lizardfolk tribe, and communication difficulties, this adventure transformed from a merely passable jungle encounter to a memorable battle.
The PCs really enjoyed the outcome of this adventure. I give it 4 out of 5.

Fair Salvage is an adventure for character levels 7 through 9. There is virtually no combat in this adventure, so the level ratings don't really apply. A group of alien beings known as Strangers invades Freeport with the intent of retaking artifacts stolen from one of their beached ships. It turns out the huge cannons that defend Freeport actually belonged to these Strangers and they want them back. And they're willing to do anything to retrieve them.

Fair Salvage is basically an investigation, another one of those boring adventures where the PCs show up too late for any action. The PCs, especially if they're Freeporters, are in a no-win situation - they won't want to hand over the cannons. And given that the Strangers have killed several people already, the odds that the PCs will be fighting mad are high. The other problem is that the PCs have a final "negotiation" with the Strangers in front of a ship wielding the same magical siege cannons that defend Freeport. Or to put it another way, the ship is immune to everything the PCs throw at it, the Strangers are ultra-powerful, they want cannons that Freeport would never voluntarily give up, and the adventure's resolution is...to not provide one.

The adventure's discussion of the Strangers skips the political implications of a nation essentially giving up its nuclear weapons (by force, I might add) and instead dwells on the possibility of the PCs negotiating a sweet deal for themselves, an all-out invasion by the Strangers, and the Strangers settling in Freeport. There's absolutely no evidence up to this point that the Strangers would settle in Freeport, but the adventure hurdles forward with more text about how the Strangers will make Freeport's serpent people look benevolent in comparison...

This is one of those adventures that can wreck a campaign. Super powerful aliens who apparently couldn't be bothered to retrieve their weapons for the past hundred years or so suddenly show up, want their weapons back, and the PCs don't really have a clear path to deal with it. This is perfectly acceptable for an adventure; after all, moral quandaries are what great role-playing is made of. What's not so great is that the adventure doesn't provide any real guidelines about actually resolving the problem and instead dwells on the alien invasion angle.
PLAYTEST: I converted the Strangers into an alien race known as the Fihali, which had an established history in the Arcanis game. I also had the PCs show up during one of the Strangers' raids, as opposed to investigating the murders after the fact, just to inject some action into the adventure. When the tense negotiations finally happened, one PC (also a Fihali) sacrificed the party, thereby preventing an ensuing war. Both sides agreed to work together to save Arcanis.
This adventure is the weakest of the bunch. Big ideas with poor execution: 2 out of 5.

After the adventures follow Plots and Places, basically adventure hooks. I used A Stunning Likeness, about a renowned sculptor, as the plot seed for another adventure involving a medusa (you're shocked, I know). I didn't use any of the others plots, thirteen in all. The Plots are fine for what they are, with some more interesting than others. 3 out of 5.
PLAYTEST: As for Places, I used all of them. Falthar's Curios, a magic shop, figured prominently in my game as a contact for one of my PCs and it was Falthar who was a victim of the above Strangers in Fair Salvage. I also used the Salon Du Masque and the Countess D'Amberville. In fact, I enjoyed the connection to Castle Amber so much I ran a conversion of that Basic D&D adventure. The Countess eventually died, but she was a constant thorn in the PCs sides for years. 5 out of 5
The book wraps up with Rules You Can Use. There is one new skill (Shadowing), new uses for existing skills like Knowledge and Profession, firearms rules, and prestige classes: Freeport Merchant, Ship's Captain, and Gambler. Two of those prestige classes now have official versions in Wizards of the Coast supplements, rendering most of the info redundant. I did use the Gambler class though, if only to stat out Henry Tranco. 3 out of 5.

Overall, Tales of Freeport is full of good ideas but has a somewhat unpolished execution. The book could easily have been twice the size and dealt with some of the interesting plots in more detail, while at the same time excising recycled content from old adventures to make space.

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Black Sails Over Freeport

I run a Living Arcanis campaign, which also contains Freeport. With a wealth of material at my disposal, I decided to pick up Black Sails Over Freeport (BSOF) to see how I could fit it into my campaign. I should point out that this is a long playtest review that contains spoilers galore. To help clarify what I did differently in my campaign, I will use a PLAYTEST tag.

When the adventure begins, Freeport is in the midst of a war between two nations: the elves and the barbarians. Neither side seems particularly friendly, but most Freeporters don't care--they just want the right to privateer, selling out their services to the highest bidder. Of course, both nations want Freeport to pick a side.
PLAYTEST: I essentially kept the sides the same. Coryan, the ruling country in Arcanis, was in the midst of a civil war. Loyalists serving the Emperor hired the barbarians; the elves were allied with the Rebels, led by the High General. Given that BSOF involves some major campaign-altering events, including two nations with enough troops and ships to wage a full war, DMs need to carefully consider the impact on the game world. To me, this part of BSOF was far more interesting than the silly islands that come later.
BSOF begins with the PCs bumping into a gnome. The gnome pretends to know them and, in a desperate bid to escape cultists, hands them a map. This map subsequently involves them with a scholar named Lucien, who just happens to be kidnapped by Captain Morgan Baumann of the Kraken's Claw. It's a treasure map of course, and Lucien is the only means of unlocking its secrets. Rescuing Lucien leads to five quests for five artifacts, each guarded by a member of the Full-Fathom Five.
PLAYTEST: I changed this significantly. Flint became a minor character and Lucien was replaced with Corinalous, the father of one of the PCs. This helped draw the PCs into the adventure immediately. But it was always with the intent of defeating Yarash (who was renamed Leviathan in my campaign), rather than a vague quest for treasure. I combined the raid on the drug den to rescue Lucien/Corinalous with the free Freeport adventure, The Consequences of Vice.
Yarash, an evil pirate god who opposes the "good" pirate god, Harrimast, formed the Full-Fathom Five. Yarash is the hands-on type, and he gave each of his pirates an artifact to rule the seas: Ezekiel Carthy received a sextant, Black Jenny Ramsey received a pirate's hook, a Moab Cys'varion received a spyglass, a Zoltan Zaska received a pistol, and Daen Danud received a ship's bell. But Carthy betrayed his comrades and Yarash, leading to the god's imprisonment in Hell's Triangle along with the Full-Fathom Five. Carthy, in the intervening centuries, has been blissfully hiding out in Freeport, with none the wiser.

Until now. The PCs unwittingly reveal who Carthy really is. But Carthy doesn't have the sextant. It's in the possession of Drak Sockit, a half-orc with plans for the Sea Lord's throne. The Sea Lord is a hereditary title, the equivalent of the King of Freeport, and Drak believes the sextant proves he is descended from the original Sea Lord. The orcs, cheap labor that up to now have been helping rebuild Freeport, are sick and tired of being treated like second-class citizens and they're not going to take it anymore.
PLAYTEST: I tweaked Drak to become Drak Scarbelly, using Scarbelly from one of the other Freeport adventures. This gave him a lot more relevance to the campaign. I also enjoyed the parallels to realistic politics about importing cheap labor, and one of the PCs went along with it; it was a major role-playing event to see him begrudgingly put his own biases aside to work with Drak. I also got rid of the ridiculous way the orcs talk. For example: "Hey manflesh! You am wake up! No seaweed god am protect you from Sons of Krom!" This style of speaking was taken from the old Green Ronin game, Ork! It's funny for a beer and pretzels kind of game (in Ork!, Orks explode if they eat broccoli), but it's nigh unreadable when Drak goes on for paragraphs discussing orc rights.
This leads to Drak getting imprisoned, along with the sextant, which he thoughtfully hides by swallowing it. The PCs have to rescue him from the Hulks, floating prison ships off the coast of Freeport. Once they retrieve the sextant and reunite it with Carthy, the portal to Hell's Triangle opens and that's the last the PCs see of Freeport for a bit.
PLAYTEST: One of the major villains is a cultist named William "Billy Bones" Grimshady, who kidnaps Carthy. The whole scene is supposed to be a thrilling chase, except that at this point one of my PCs could fly. Oddly, the cultists can too (one of them has a potion of fly) so clearly the authors understood that PCs could ruin the whole chase scene with a simple spell. This is just one example in a series of forced plotlines that don't go the way the authors planned because higher-level D&D games tend to break a lot of assumptions.

Billy Bones is a rip off of Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) from the movie Blue Velvet. Right down to his breathing mask; in the movie, Frank inhales some kind of narcotic (laughing gas, maybe?). In BSOF, Billy Bones uses the inhaler to inhale potions or narcotics. This is the other problem with BSOF, which is that it will sacrifice any sense of continuity or plot for a joke or a homage. Billy Bones, with his inhaler, flintlock pistol, cloak, and fedora, looks like something out of a post-apocalyptic game. And his bizarre swearing is completely out of character for what is otherwise a light-hearted adventure. In other words, Billy Bones isn't just a homage, he literally feels like a cameo appearance by someone's favorite character. Most of the players hadn't seen Blue Velvet, so I simply made him a foul-mouthed Jack Nicholson rip off, and that worked well enough.
Thus begins what turned a lot of people off of Freeport entirely. Each villain has his or her own island, with a particular theme that seems predicated more on a single joke than an actual adventure path.

Daen Danud is the lord of the Isle of Undeath, where he drills his undead troops in the military arts, even though the Intelligence scores of most of the undead are far too low to be trained.
PLAYTEST: I played Danud as if he was Skeletor from the old He-Man cartoons. That made for a lot of fun. I also converted Danud's penchant for blood magic into the Blood Magus prestige class; thanks to the powers gained from that class, Danud managed to kill one of the PCs. It was the longest battle I've ever run in D&D, ever (spell durations actually ran out), but also the most fun. There's also a vampire who helps the PCs in this adventure; again, I took a vampire from a previous adventure and inserted him into the plot. As it turned out, this was a necessity--my time for gaming was running out and we needed to bring the campaign to a close. So rather than go through every one of these islands, which could take two or three sessions per island, we accelerated the timeline thanks to the vampire-ally's planning.
Zoltan Zaska controls the Boneshaper's Throne, a weird mix of science fiction and horror, wherein Zaska leads the PCs through reenactments of his life on a gigantic flying skull in a series of supervillain-esque tests, each with the purpose of weeding out who will be the perfect new body for Zaska's spirit.
PLAYTEST: Danud may seem silly with his military drills, but he's tolerable. Zaska is just off the wall. Zaska creates construct minions out of the corpses of his own clones. When he's not flying around in a giant skull trying to get his clones to fight each other, he's impregnating clones of Black Jenny Ramsey, whom he is hopelessly obsessed with. The PCs found the journey through Zaska's life to be very amusing. In the end, I had Zaska challenge the most flamboyant PC to a duel, which Zaska promptly lost. The goal is to get the PC to pick up the artifact pistol, which then allows Zaska to jump into the PC's body. It turned out to be a lot more amusing than irritating, as Zaska would take over whenever the PC had a weak moment (like when he failed a Will save vs. a spell).
Ramsey, who has remade herself as a vampire goddess named Ahunatum, rules the Island of the White Gorilla. She subjugates the population through her sentient gorillas, who regularly make blood sacrifices atop a pyramid.
PLAYTEST: And you thought Zaska was bad? This whole chapter is filled with Planet of the Apes jokes, Donkey Kong jokes, gorillas gambling for bananas jokes, and a bunch of other dumb jokes. Like much of BSOF, it contains in-jokes for the DM only. There's also the little matter of a vampire who conceals that she has a hook on her hand by...HIDING IT BEHIND HER BACK. No wonder it takes a DC 30 Spot check to notice! With Zaska possessing one of the PCs, he was loath to harm her. And given that they only needed the hook, the PCs promptly lopped it off Ramsey's arm and she managed to escape. Right before they rammed Zaska's giant skull ship into her pyramid.

That's another problem with this adventure. It doesn't actually take into account how the PCs will use the artifacts until they reach Yarashad. For example, the ship's bell gives the PCs control over ALL undead. The pistol gives the PCs control of Zaska's flying ship and his legions of skeleton constructs. The hook can control men's minds, and the spyglass can see everywhere and open a portal to anywhere. For each island that the PCs beat, things get that much easier.
Finally, there's Crystal Lake Island, a land of paranoid mutants ruled by the former drow Moab Cys'varion. In another science fictionish twist, Moab has been mutating the humans and animals around his island, allowing for all sorts of unique, bizarre creatures for the PCs to fight.
PLAYTEST: I decided that Moab, with his spyglass that sees everything, knew what was up. He's planning an invasion of Freeport anyway, so instead of invading Freeport, he invaded the PCs ship, gating monsters onto it one round after another, then his bodyguards, and then himself--it made perfect sense: each pirate needed all five artifacts and there the PCs were, just waiting for him to take it!

Mutations are another science fiction idea that has little place in D&D. We get the idea of mutations--that's why we have owlbears--but we don't need fish mutants, warrior mutants, ape mutants...there are plenty of D&D monsters to fill the same niche.
Retrieving all four artifacts summons Yarashad, the island where Yarash is entombed. The PCs meet an incarnation of Harrimast, cleverly disguised as an avatar known as "Old Mad Harry," who leads them on a merry quest to Yarash's tomb. There, the PCs are encouraged to use the power of each of the artifacts to overcome the various obstacles to Yarash's immense treasure. Having reached the end of their quest and wealthy beyond measure, Harrimast returns the PCs to Freeport, where they will live out their days with over three-hundred thousand gold pieces each...
PLAYTEST: Again, there's a lot of sloppy plotting here. When exactly Harrimast reveals himself is undetermined. Beyond acting as a foil for the PCs, he doesn't do much. When the PCs defeat all the challenges, they are left with a pile of treasure and no way to get back. BSOF doesn't even explain what happens to Harrimast, nor does it explain how they return. All this time the four villains and a GOD couldn't get out of Hell's Triangle, and the only hint that the PCs are somehow able to escape through Harrimast's intervention is his speech, "if ye can put me in me right mind, I'll fix you up and set ye windward." Apparently, "set ye windward" translates to "escape Hell's Triangle with treasure and artifacts in tow.

The other problem is that Harrimast seems like something of an idiot. Old Mad Harry led the PCs to Yarash's tomb, he lets them have Yarash's treasure (with plenty of threats, of course), and he also is apparently severed from his god form. He needs the PCs to use the artifacts to free him of his curse. The ones Harry led them to. Riiiight.

The PCs also get an obscene amount of treasure. Although the obstacles are suitably daunting (twelve bodaks, anyone?), they are easily overcome by judicious use of the artifacts. That left my PCs singularly unfulfilled. Sure, they were flush with cash. But they came to defeat Yarash. Instead, they found the god locked in his tomb, surrounded by money, and led there by the god who beat him, without a clear means of getting back. I couldn't blame my PCs for being a little aggravated with Harrimast. It seemed like he was wasting their time.
Back home, the war between elves and barbarians has reached a climax. Drak has been imprisoned (again). Orcs are rioting in the streets. And that's when the barbarians choose to strike. Freeport is under attack, and it's up to our heroes to put a stop to it: by convincing the Sea Lord's Guard to let Drak go so that he can rally the orcs to defend Freeport, by firing the massive cannons at the invading fleet, by foiling elven plots to sabotage the city. With the barbarians on the run, Freeport gives chase...

PLAYTEST: I inserted Crisis in Freeport into this part of the adventure, thus wrapping up the succession crisis as to whom would take over the position of Sea Lord. I'll save that for a separate review. Suffice it to say that this was an exciting part of the adventure and all the PCs stepped up.
Only to be attacked by those pesky elves. And while the elves are attacking, the Son of Yarash (a kraken) rises. Summoned by Yarash's cultists, it consumes ship after ship. Once it consumes ten ships, Yarash's tomb rises and Yarash is reborn! A big, Cthulhu-like monster with four arms, he blathers on about the Full-Fathom Five and how they utterly failed in their mission. He had to trick a couple of meddling kids (that's you, PCs) into resurrecting him. And now the world will PAY! MUAAHAHAHAH!
PLAYTEST: When the PCs saw the kraken, they turned tail and ran. No, seriously. It wasn't until Yarash showed up that they decided to fight. Then it is revealed that secretly, Harrimast wanted Yarash to think his plan was working so he could destroy him once and for all. Wheels within wheels, see?

So to sum up: Harrimast couldn't remove a curse from his avatar, but he could lead PCs to the artifacts that could remove it. He could waltz right into Yarash's tomb, but couldn't obliterate Yarash personally. He could pretty much do nearly everything but not the thing the PCs needed to do. Harrimast has to be the most unresourceful pirate god, ever.
Fortunately, Yarash has a weakness: the five stars on his forehead. The PCs hopefully get the hint, wipe the stars and smile off of Yarash's face, put an end to the war (since both the barbarian and elven fleets are decimated), save Freeport and save the world.
PLAYTEST: I replaced Yarash with a weakened avatar of Cthulhu and let the PCs go at it. One PC died, the others were hanging on by a thread, but they managed to just barely defeat the evil god. And that wrapped up my four year D&D campaign.
BSOF devotes an entire page to what happened to Carthy, as if anyone cares about Carthy. It leaves other important political questions completely unresolved: what about Drak's claim to the throne? Do any of the captains die during the battle against Yarash, thereby opening up seats on the Captains Council? What about the elven and barbarian fleets--who wins the war? That's up to the DM to decide.

BSOF is a very old school module. At times it feels like it was written by twelve-year-olds, with its flagrant disregard for continuity and logic, its over-the-top puns and homages to video games and movies nobody cares about, and its "oh don't worry about it" attitude towards details. One example: instead of giving twelve cultists poisoned daggers, they're all given daggers of venom. Twelve daggers of venom add up in PCs hands.

Similarly, the adventure doesn't take into account the fact that the PCs will have five ultra-powerful artifacts when the war commences. Sure, Yarash deactivates the artifacts when he appears, but prior to that point the PCs could conceivably rout both fleets through the artifacts alone. To solve that problem, I made the artifacts stop working as soon as they returned to Freeport.

And yet, I can't be too hard on this adventure. It's like that player you have in your game who doesn't know how to play D&D but has big ideas; he's big on theatrics and sketchy on details, cracks a lot of jokes, drinks all your soda, and is basically just there to have fun. For all its stogie-smoking zombies, card-playing gorillas, and flying giant skulls, BSOF is about having a good time and damn the consequences. DMs should consider carefully if their campaign and players can handle it. Mine did just fine.

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Earth Defense 2017

It's rare that a game gets panned and, upon reading about it, I realize it's the perfect game for me. Earth Defense Force (EDF) 2017 is a bit of a clunker, with unrealistic physics, repetitive enemies, and a terrible vehicle mechanic. Folks accustomed to the first-person smoothness of Halo or the gritty action of Gears of War would most certainly turn up their nose at EDF.

But I loved every single level of it.

You've probably guessed what the plot is: flying saucers invade and deposit hordes of giant ants, spiders, robots, and Godzillas--sorry, "Dino-mechs"--onto the Earth's surface in an attempt to take over the word, Independence Day-style. You are Storm 1, EDF's premiere ground soldier. You and a bunch of your hapless fellow soldiers are tasked with repelling alien invaders several times your size with nothing but handheld weapons. Remember Starship Troopers? It's like that.

With apologies to Winston Churchill: You fight on the seas and oceans, you fight in the air, you defend your planet, whatever the cost may be. You fight on the beaches, you fight on the landing grounds, you fight in the fields and in the streets, you fight in the hills...and you never, ever surrender. From Aliens-style bug hunts in cramped tunnels to bitter Children of Men-style warfare in ruined cities, EDF drops you into every environment imaginable, puts a gun in your hands, points you at a giant monster and asks you to take it on mano-a-giant monstero.

The enemies are glorious to behold. The giant robots are 1950s style automatons reminiscent of the Iron Giant, clunking their way through city streets with gigantic beam weapons, one eye, and weird rope-like limbs. The giant dinosaurs breathe atomic fire and smash through buildings and troops.

And then there are the bugs. Lots and lots and lots of bugs. The giant ants squirt acid or bite, swarming in an erratic pattern just like their tiny brethren. The giant spiders, a combination of tarantula and wolf spider, jump AND spit webs. As if this weren't bad enough, sometimes EDF throws all of these types of enemies at you at once.

The other major part of the game are the weapons. There are intelligent miniguns that track monsters just like in the extended cut of Aliens, bullets that ricochet off of the walls, flame throwers, grenade launchers, sniper rifles, acid sprayers, time release mines, rocket launchers, guided missiles, and of course shotguns. Each has a reload time, although you rarely run out of ammo, and a range and damage, so there's plenty of variety. The more enemies you kill, the more weapons and armor you pick up. There are also vehicles, including tanks, helicopters, hoverbikes, and mechs, but the controls are clunky.

EDF revels in its size. Everything is destructible, from bikes and cars on the street to skyscrapers. And they can all be taken out with one well-placed (or poorly placed) missile. Bugs run up the buildings and attack from above--but if you shoot one of the buildings down, the bugs just float to the ground without a scratch. In fact, there's really no penalty for falling (including blowing up the building you're standing on). I destroyed quite a few buildings and struggled to run out of the falling shadow, only to watch the rubble fall right through Storm 1.

On the other hand, the UFOs that fly overhead are also a destructible part of the scenery. As a result, there's a massive sense of scale as you fire rockets at the giant spaceships floating above you; it's exhilarating to watch one of the UFOs crash to the ground after several well-placed shots. And since the things are so darned big, they often fall on TOP of you.

The AI is dumb as rocks, of course. While there are occasional bosses, this game is mostly about blowing up the entire scenery. Sure, Storm 1 leads the EDF troops once their captain dies. And the dialogue really is hilarious: it's been structured so that they talk in vague terms about the enemy to increase the applicability of spoken phrases. Here's a typical snippet of dialogue:

"Where's the enemy?"
"The enemy is out of range!"
"Are you scared?"
"Shut up!"

This silliness adds up to the perfect B-movie dialogue. Even better, the troops are almost of no help whatsoever and actually a threat--though buildings fall through them, your troops can be hit by friendly fire. I killed off the entire platoon several times when an idiot EDF soldier ran in front of my rocket launcher.

About the only unforgivable flaw is that the game's difficulty levels are widely variable. I beat some levels with ease on hard while others were impossible. Unfortunately, EDF does not count beating a level on hard difficulty as beating it on normal difficulty. Since EDF awards points on Xbox live only upon completing every level on one difficulty, switching back and forth between normal and hard levels meant I ended up with no credit for beating the game at all.

You have to be a certain kind of person to appreciate EDF. If you've ever enjoyed THEM!, Tarantula, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, Godzilla, Starship Troopers, Aliens, Independence Day, War of the Worlds, or if you just happen to like blowing things up but suck at games like Gears of War and Halo...then grab your rocket launcher, soldier, because the EDF needs you!

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Transformers

Michael Bay's reputation for non-stop action flicks that involve multiple explosions has given me pause in the past. I mean, too many high concept films have been ruined by this sort of lowest common denominator pandering, and when Transformers came out...

Wait a minute, what am I saying? Non-stop action flick? Check. Multiple explosions? Check! Big budget special effects? CHECK. Peter Cullen, the original voice actor of Optimus Prime in the cartoon series, playing Optimus Prime in the movie? OMG I AM SO THERE!!1!1!

Sorry, sorry, I reverted to my inner twelve-year-old. Screw high concept films, I wanna see giant robots beating the mechanical crap out of each other! I wanna see the military firing bazookas at said giant robots and then running in terror! I wanna see giant robots transform in all their mechanical, impossible glory and I wanna see them duke it out in the middle of a crowded street!

Transformers delivers like you wouldn't believe. What I didn't expect is how patriotic the film is. It's essentially a war movie, filmed with realistic shaky-cam effects from puny human point of view. It's like that first scene in Spielberg's War of the Worlds, when the tripods pop up out of the city street, only that's the whole movie. It's like the promise that Independence Day was going to be a blockbuster, patriotic movie, only Transformers actually delivers on that promise and doesn't make you feel like an idiot for getting a little misty when our troops fight back against all odds.

Or maybe that was just me.

Anyway, if you love Transformers, it's all here: the Allspark cube (I think it was called the Energon cube or something in the cartoon), Optimus Prime, Jazz, Bumblebee (not a VW Bug, but there's a reason for that), Megatron, Starscream, and a bunch of other Transformers nobody cares about. Sam Witwicky (Shia LeBeouf) is here, Scorponok is here...there's so much here that my head threatens to explode from the Transformerery goodness of it all. It's Transformers, written for fans who remember the series, with a deadly serious take on an invasion of giant transforming robots.

But of course, all this must be rationalized for modern audiences. So Megatron takes the place of Roswell, and true to conspiracy theories, a shadowy agency (Sector 7, instead of Majestic 12) led by President Hoover keeps Megatron locked up. And just like in conspiracy theories, all of our futuristic technology is derived from captured Decepticon technology. The Transformers project holograms of pilots and drivers to fool humans, and they've been among us for awhile, watching, waiting, for the right moment to retrieve the doohickey from the government and turn EVERYTHING into a Transformer. It's robotic terrorism at its finest!

Throughout, Transformers finds plenty of humor with the foibles of the humans the Autobots are assigned to protect. Be it the awkward dance between Sam and the lust of his life (Megan Fox), a hacker (Anthony Anderson) and his smoking hot Australian NSA gal pal (Rachael Taylor), or a military team struggling to survive in the desert (led by Josh Duhamel), Transformers is more than just giant robots and special effects. It's giant robots, special effects, and really hot chicks. This movie is rated PG-13 and aimed for those who remember when they were thirteen.

Transformers wants you to really, really like it. Some of the scenes, noticeably the "thing" (that's a lot like John Carpenter's The Thing) that I presume was Shockwave, are a little over the top. But then I remembered that this is a movie about giant transforming flying robots from outer space, and promptly gained some perspective.

From its breathtaking shots of desert combat, reverent scenes of our military in action, to an entire shootout on Air Force One, Transformers is truly a movie made for modern audiences. And it was a perfect film to watch on Fourth of July.

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Lost Planet: Extreme Condition

I put Lost Planet: Extreme Condition on my wish list because it looked like Gears of War crossed with Robotech, featuring giant mecha and tiny soldiers battling huge monsters in a frozen environment. That's more or less what I got.

Our hero, Wayne Holden (modeled after Byung-hun Lee and voiced in English by Josh Keaton), loses his father to a giant Akrid known as Green Eye. When the archvillain of the game is chiefly known by the color his eyes, it's an indicator that perhaps the translation isn't perfect. Or to put it another way, we don't call Godzilla "Flaming Mouth."

Anyway, Wayne wakes up on the same frozen planet, rescued by the tasty purple-haired Luka (Christina Puccelli) and her aggravating little brother Rick (Justin Shenkarow). Rick's one of those characters who always wears goggles, as if they're surgically affixed to his face. He's a staple of anime, the energetic techie that tags along with the hot chick to make her more effective, since said hot chick doesn't seem to do a whole lot besides make poor fashion choices.

Yuri (Andrew Kishino), who looks like a villain, complete with narrow gaze and white hair, leads Luka and Rick. With Wayne joining their merry band, they're ready to go out into the frozen world and steal stuff.

They're Ice Pirates...sorry, I mean Snow Pirates. Well, not really - they're actually the Rebels to NEVEC's Empire, battling on Hoth...

Wait, this isn't the Empire Strikes Back?

Which review is this? Lost Planet? Oh yeah, right.

Sorry, sorry, my attention wandered from the convoluted plot. It involves Wayne losing his memory, a bit of time travel, a weird glowy thing attached to his arm that powers the mecha (sorry, VIRTUAL SUITS...can't the anime community agree on a standardized term for these bloody things?), some rivalry between Luka and some other mannish-sound woman, and another bad guy (we know he's bad because he wears glasses) who wants to take...over...THE WORLD! MUAAHAHAHAHA!

This is a mech game masquerading as a third-person shooter. Wayne plods along, even when there's no snow. He stumbles when he jumps. Fortunately, he has a grappling hook that fires from his wrist and never manages to dislocate his arm. I ended up shooting the grappling hook at a lot of stationary objects and dragging Wayne along like a slower, dumber version of Spider-Man.

The other challenge is that Wayne requires heat to live. Fortunately, the Akrid provide it, which really motivates Wayne to kill them however he can. There are also huge vats of energy lying around that are just waiting to be shot up. What doesn't make nearly as much sense is why Wayne has to power up his heat energy when he's indoors. Or in a volcano. Seriously.

The Akrid are beautiful to behold. They are all weird, squiggly bug-types, each unique and varied and most of all HUGE. Lost Planet revels in the size of the landscape, throwing giant worms and massive moths at you as you struggle with poor mini-Wayne to get to a mech. Once you're in a mech, the game becomes much more fun, because you can move faster than a snail's pace and blow things up much more effectively.

The human opponents, also in mechs and on foot, are annoying and suffer from the I MUST SHOUT SOMETHING BEFORE I DIE syndrome. Every time. When you kill a lot of these guys, the slogans and rallying cries get old. The Akrid bosses, who don't speak, make up for it.

In fact, the game is all about the bosses. Each is innovative, challenging, and terrible to behold. However, Lost Planet is a game of attrition; on the longer levels it carries over the energy you collected in the beginning. Since heat energy and damage are tied together, failing to get enough energy or taking too much damage in an earlier part of the game can make a boss battle impossible. I had to restart two levels from scratch until I got it right.

But Lost Planet is addicting. I played it on hard and all of the boss battles were very close. Two of the boss fights ended with Wayne going through two mecha, a handful of grenades and a missile launcher. Now THAT'S a fun game!

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School of Rock

School of Rock is one of those films that's tailor-made for the comedian performing in it. This has become all the rage since Robin Williams played the Genie in Aladdin, Jim Carey in The Mask, or Will Ferrell in Elf. These sorts of films play to the comedian's strengths and minimize their weaknesses, and when they get it right, it's movie magic.

And so Black gets his moment in School of Rock. Black's been playing the overweight guy pining for the good old days of rock like geeks pine over the original Star Trek series, with pop-eyed enthusiasm far outweighing the energy that most people muster for just about anything. Black is truly the uber-music geek and the title is well earned through a film history of Black essentially playing the same guy: Bio-Dome (as Tenacious D), High Fidelity (as Barry), Shallow Hal (as Hal), and of course Tenacious D in the Pick of Destiny. In short, if there's going to be a film about kids learning about the pedigree of rock and roll, Black would be the guy who wrote, directed, and acted in it.

What's surprising is that this movie ISN'T Tenacious D in the Pick of Destiny. As a music geek, Black's tastes for music could easily alienate much of the audience. School of Rock isn't just about rock; it's about music appreciation, the lack of attention paid to kids in school, teacher malaise, and a society that no longer fights the Man. Or to put it another way, this is a movie made for the mainstream.

Which is what makes it so much fun. Our slacker hero, Dewey Finn (Jack Black), has been crashing at his substitute teacher friend's house (Ned, played by Mike White). When Ned's girlfriend (the lovely Sarah Silverman, playing a decidedly unfunny role) pushes for Dewey's ouster, the slob has to get a job. And so he does, by impersonating Ned at a private school for upper class kids. It's not long before Dewey throws out the curriculum and teaches the kids his own brand of history: good old, wholesome rock and roll.

School of Rock spends a lot of time struggling to justify the madness: the kids soundproof the room, teachers occasionally think they hear something, the uptight principal springs surprise visits (played by the delightfully naughty Joan Cusack), and parents start to get worried. Just about none of it is believable, most specifically when Dewey is finally caught by the police and ends up dashing down the hallway, two guitars in hand, without any further consequences.

But that's beside the point. Who cares if School of Rock bends the laws of time and space to allow Dewey's one chance in the sun, not as a rock star but as the aging patriarch of a band of insanely talented pre-teens? We came to see a rock show, and we get it.

Black flops around, he sweats, he tosses his head with manic glee, but most of all he passionately TEACHES. He teaches a large girl that her weight doesn't matter, teaches the geek that he should ignore the kids who make fun of him, teaches the brat some discipline, and encourages the brilliance of the lead queen bee to use her powers for good instead of evil. He makes a difference with the kids by bringing what he knows best to the room; not school learning, but plain old-fashioned street smarts. Dewey's, and by extension Black's, sheer enthusiasm makes up for his rough edges.

If only teachers were this enthusiastic about anything these days!

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The Italian Job

I live right around the corner from a Mini Coop dealership and I'm an Italian-American, so I thought it fitting that I finally rented this movie. It's a remake of the 1969 original starring Michael Caine. Whereas that film took place in Italy, the remake stays there only for the introduction and then swiftly moves to California.

I love heist films. Like Ocean's Eleven or Heat, it's all about the cast. You can see a pattern in the characters:

THE WHEELMAN: This is the guy who mans the getaway vehicle, be it helicopter, jet, or car. Handsome Rob (Jason Statham, my favorite action hero) plays a decidedly scrappy, suave wheelman. This also happens to be almost the exact character from The Transporter. Hopefully, Statham will move beyond this type of character, but it's a testament to action tropes that he can actually be typecast as "the wheelman."

THE TECH: This guy is almost always a nerd and usually the comic relief. Lyle (Seth Green) nails this role and actually steals the show with his jokes. One ad-libbed sequence of Lyle mocking Handsome Rob is the funniest part of the movie. Of course, the challenge with this sort of character is that he needs to be able to pull off seemingly magical feats of technological wizardry without overshadowing the expertise involved. When Lyle manages to take control of the entire traffic system, you really have to wonder if he couldn't be better off striking out on his own. He's almost too good for the movie.

THE DEMOLITIONIST: The demolitionist's job is to blow things up. Sometimes he's a homicidal maniac, other times he's cool and collected. Left Ear (Mos Def) is a cool customer. And he doesn't like dogs. He gives Lyle competition for the funniest line in the movie:

Left Ear: This dude got dogs. I don't do dogs... I had a real bad experience, man.
Charlie Croker: What happened?
Left Ear: I had. A bad. Experience.

THE OLD MAN: You've seen this guy before. He's probably the former leader of the group. He's seen too much, been around the block too many times, and he knows his days are numbered. He just wants one last, big heist so he can retire forever. He almost always dies in the film. That pretty much sums up John Bridger (Donald Sutherland).

THE HOT CHICK: A recent invention, the hot chick's purpose is to keep men interested. She can have a variety of roles (tech, wheel-err-woman, demolitionist). Sometimes she has her own unique set of skills as safecracker. That's John's daughter, Stella (Charlize Theron), who competes admirably in the sea of testosterone.

THE LEADER: Handsome, smart, a safecracker himself, this guy is the one who pulls off a sneaky job right under the bad guys' noses. Unfortunately, Charlie Croker (Mark Wahlberg) is more narrator than anything else. He seems to have very little to do, and that's a shame, because Wahlberg's talented enough to do much more.

The villain is Steve (Edward Norton) a thief turned bad. He knows all of our protagonists' tricks, so he knows how to counter them. And since he stole the gold from the original Italian Job, he's the perfect foil. Norton plays him with just the right amount of shifty-eyed sleaze.

The Italian Job has lots of cool car chases, lots of near misses, and a lot of twists and turns (literally and figuratively) that make it a brisk, entertaining movie. You get quickly caught up in the machinations of the characters, which allows the film to get away with a lot of unbelievable nonsense. But who cares? From the funky flashbacks to the quippy asides, it's clear that Italian Job doesn't take itself too seriously.

Although it's more Job than Italian, the Italian Job is still a fun ride.

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A History of Violence

David Cronenberg is not the first person I think of for an action film. But then, despite the movie's name, this isn't an action film. It's parable about all kinds of violence: violence between parent and child, between children, between husband and wife, between brothers, and of course, good old-fashioned violence against people who disagree with you.

The Stalls are a perfect family. There's hot lawyer wife Edie (Maria Bello), soft-spoken Tom (Viggo Mortensen), and their children: wisecracking teenage Jack (Ashton Holmes) and cute-as-a-button Sarah (Heidi Hayes). Into this perfect family portrait enters violence in the form of bullies at school and thugs who attempt to rob Tom's diner.

It turns out that Tom has an ugly past he's been trying to keep secret. But when Tom violently repels the robbers and becomes a minor celebrity, his past comes back in force.
Carl Fogarty (a snarling Ed Harris), a mobster who wants Tom to "go for a drive," shows up at Tom's doorstep, threatening his friends and family. Things spiral downward from there.

Tom's struggle isn't just about his criminal past. Cronenberg unspools on screen a litmus test of violent scenarios, and then asks the audience each time: Is this okay? The questions start out easy to answer and become increasingly complex. By the time Tom grabs his wife in a violent embrace that turns passionate, we suddenly understand that each person defines their own boundary of when violence is and isn't acceptable. And the morality attached to each act of violence is a fluid thing indeed.

All the actors pull their weight in History of Violence, except perhaps Hayes--she's no Dakota Fanning, but she acts suitably cute (a little too cute). Everyone else is excellent, from Bello's desperate, hurt looks to Holmes terrified/thrilled rage, to the inimitable Harris as a very scary man. And of course there's Mortensen, who infuses every character with a level of depth with a sad glance.

By the time Richie Cusack (William Hurt) appears, the violence at home has come full circle. I'm not particular fond of Hurt, but he does an excellent, frightening job here, as a mobster completely bereft of any moral compass.

This movie poses important questions that challenge American assumptions about violence, similar to how American History X challenged our assumptions about racism. It's in answering those questions that the movie becomes more than action film and transforms into a morality tale worth seeing.

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Mission Impossible III

I avoided the third installment of Mission Impossible for the same reason a lot of people did: Tom Cruise. It's a tradeoff: a bankable star becomes a liability if you happen to dislike him. Of course, the people who don't like these big budget stars are usually not substantial enough to affect sales. Given Sumner Redstone's, CEO of Paramount, decision to cut ties with Cruise, it seems that his outrageous antics finally caught up with him.

And that's a shame, because Mission Impossible III is really good.

The problems I've had with the other installments revolved around what happened to the original conceit of the series: it was a carefully planned operation performed by a team. Being privy to the operation in the beginning, we worried for each agent as they performed their particularly dangerous and important task. This is the whole symbolism of the burning fuse: the agents light the fuse, but the conclusion is an inevitable explosion. In short, we knew what to expect and got it at every episode, even if there were a few twists and turns along the way.

Thus making Mission Impossible a star vehicle is against the spirit of the series. There's no one star agent; there can't be, because every agent is important. Right? The first two movies forgot that point.

In MI3, J.J. Abrams brings the series back to its roots. In essence, Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise) performs a standard mission extraction. They pull it off perfectly. There's just one problem: the bad guy (Owen Davian, played with chilling aplomb by Philip Seymour Hoffman) refuses to be interrogated. Utterly unafraid, he begins interrogating his interrogator. And suddenly, MI3 has been turned on its ear.

What if everything went right, asks Abrams, and it still all went horribly wrong?

What's so refreshing about MI3 is that even when Hunt defects, even when he's not sure who's on his side, his team sticks by him. When he goes rogue, his team goes with him. And when he goes on a mission to stop Davian, his teammates are right there in the mix, risking their lives for their leader.

There are some amazing scenes, including a sliding fight on the rooftop of an office skyscraper and a helicopter battle in a wind turbine farm. Add into the mix a ticking time bomb and the tension and action keeps the audience on its toes.

By never forgetting what made Mission Impossible great, Abrams brings the magic back. And Cruise delivers without hopping on a single couch.

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Pirates of the Caribbean - At World's End

There's a gesture I make in films that my wife knows well. It starts out with me slouching in my seat. As I get progressively aggravated with the movie, I sink lower and lower. And then finally, if the film really aggravates me, I drop my head on my wife's shoulder. The last time I did this was during the third Batman movie.

I thought a child being hung was a pretty disturbing tone way to start the movie, but then, he's a pirate and he's beginning "the song." Apparently the song is somehow significant to pirate lore. What the mournful song has to do with anything, I have no idea. It's not a big deal though, because World's End is so stuffed with ideas that the weird song concept is quickly dropped.

We then careen to a scene in an Asian bathhouse, where our heroes attempt to negotiate with Captain Sao Feng (Chow Yun-Fat). They need a boat, you see, to rescue Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) from Davey Jones' Locker, the equivalent of pirate hell.

This is a bit odd, since one character has already been brought back from the dead: the dread pirate Barbossa (played by the inimitable Geoffrey Rush). Why is Barbossa easy to return through the voodoo magic of Tia Dalma (Naomie Harris) and not Jack? 'Cause "Jack's spirit was taken, you just died," she explains.

I guess being eaten by a kraken will do that to you. Speaking of the archvillain of the second movie, the poor thing is found dead in the middle of World's End, washed upon a beach. Unfortunately Verbinski doesn't show that merciless discipline to the rest of his characters.

If there's one overarching flaw in World's End, it's that there are too many characters. It's like watching an entire season of Lost over the span of two hours. There are so many plot points, so many entertaining leads, so many good (and not so good) actors, that the film is stuffed to the brim until it all becomes a soupy mess. Villains from the first movie has become good guys, good guys from the second movie have become bad guys, bad guys change allegiances, good guys betray each other, and after awhile you give up and wait for the big battles to arrive.

Only they don't. The huge armada battle between the English navy and a fleet of pirate ships never really happens. Instead, we get the equivalent of naval grandstanding, with single ships battling it out over a whirlpool while the others look on (the movie equivalent of ninjas hopping around in the background while they are dispatched one at a time by the hero). It struck me that World's End long decided that "normal" ship-to-ship battles are boring, and thus need to be utterly ridiculous to be entertaining.

And they are entertaining, to a point. There's just too much to do and too many plots to follow. Jack Sparrow is superfluous, which is a crying shame. His most entertaining moments are when he's having a nervous breakdown, talking to good and bad (or, depending on your perspective, bad and bad) versions of himself. Or shouting at a crew populated by his doppelgangers. Or arguing with a skeletal version of himself that "loses its brain." No, really.

Will Wil Turner (Orlando Bloom) and Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley) ever get together? There were some misunderstandings in the second film that could arguably drive a wedge between them, but that wedge was named Jack. With him out of the picture, it takes much too long for the two to reconcile their differences. Fortunately, their reconciliation (a wedding performed by Barbosa in the middle of a shipside battle) is probably the best moment in the film.

Speaking of Barbosa, there's not just too many plots, there's too many captains. The Brethren Council, a council of nine pirates who each possess a Piece of Eight (Why not eight?) to free the sea goddess Calypso seems to have been made up on the spot. In about two minutes, Swann ascends to Pirate King, thus nullifying the whole purpose of the Council. At some point, Keith Richards shows up as a really scary pirate that tells everyone what to do. These pirates seem to have more ranks and nobility than the English!

By the time Tia turns into Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, I leaned my head on my wife's shoulder.

World's End doesn't give us happy endings. It doesn't wrap up Jack's story. And it shamelessly dangles yet another sequel to a series that's not sure what it wants to be when it grows up. Verbinski obviously is having fun at our expense, as evidenced by the audio playing from the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, playing over Jacks' arrival to Davey Jones' Locker.

World's End is a wild ride. But I'd rather pay to see it at Disneyland than in the theater.

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Shrek the Third

Shrek, like Harry Potter, is one of those entertainment vehicles that transcended the gap between target marketing groups. Harry Potter is appealing to both kids and adults, making it a huge hit. It's a difficult balancing act that is threatened by its own popularity...it's very possible for a name or product to be a victim of its own success, thereby turning off future readers/viewers.

Shrek's hit that point with Shrek the Third.

For kids, Shrek was fun to watch. The characters are either cuddly or blubbery, but never really mean (even the dragon's kind of cute). Shrek himself, supposedly a horrible ogre, looks like a green pile of Playdoh. He's not all that threatening, and he's not supposed to be. And since Shrek is gross, he's got a certain prepubescent boy appeal.

For adults, Shrek was packed with twists on old fairytales, winking nods to familiar voice actors in unfamiliar roles (I'm apparently the only one who got some of the Eddie Murphy jokes in the second Shrek film), and plenty of riffs on movies. Keeping a film amusing for the little ones without aggravating adults, or amusing for the adults without boring the kids, is high art. The path is littered with the corpses of movies who couldn't balance it well (see Chicken Little).

By the time we reach Shrek the Third, the producers had to figure out which he wanted to do: make a movie that's filled with more riffs on fairytales, or actually treat Shrek as a real personality who grows and develops. Shrek 2 managed this amazing feat by shifting locales: Shrek went to the equivalent of Hollywood, fertile ground for humorous allegories and wisecracks. He was also getting to know his in-laws, and certainly all the adults in the audience could appreciate the hilarity that inevitably ensued as two very different groups of people tired to get along.

So Shrek the Third tackles next logical step of having a baby.

The lovable cast of ridiculous misfit fairytale characters is barely in evidence. Taking up the task of mocking fairytale tropes are fairytale villains. Sort of. We've got the Evil Queen from Snow White, Hook from Peter Pan, some dwarves, the Headless Horseman, and a lot of evil trees. I don't know about you, but I don't think of evil trees when I think of fairytale villains. And oh yeah, for some reason one of the bad guys is a cyclops. Can't forget the cyclopes. They couldn't come up with more recognizable fairytale villains? THIS is the most hilarious it gets?

In the middle of this villainous rebellion, led by Prince Charming, Shrek goes off on a quest to find an heir to the king. The heir's a punk named Arthur (as in, King). Only he lives in a fairytale version of high school. Which would be really funny, if Shrek actually stayed there. High school jokes were a potential for comedy goldmine, like the Hollywood jokes. But alas, it's not to be. Shrek leaves, with Donkey and Puss in tow.

Speaking of which, Donkey is now utterly extraneous. Puss is hilarious and entertaining, Donkey is barely relevant. With so many characters, it's getting crowded in the Shrekiverse. And me being a cat owner has nothing to do with my bias towards Puss, I'm sure.

The movie wraps up with a Grrl Power counterattack, and finally we see the Shrek we came to see. Watching all the fairy princesses gather together to use their unique powers to finally save themselves is great. The Snow White scene made the audience laugh. But the rest of the princesses are barely used, and we're once again back to Adultsville.

In the end, we get a nice little sermon about everyone getting along, about how we shouldn't marginalize people by making them out to be villains, and about Shrek accepting that he's finally going to be a dad. Ironically, my wife is six months pregnant, so this movie was a lot more relevant to me than I expected. Worries about being a good father? Check. Concerned that the kids will be too much to handle? Check. Not sure how domestic life will become part of your own manly personality? Check. Man, Shrek really was hilarious...I was laughing out loud at several parts!

Then I noticed I was the only one.

You see, there weren't that many dads in the audience. It was stuffed to the rafters with mothers and their children though. And those kids were squirming through much of the movie, because...because dad jokes are funny to dads and dads-to-be.

The movie ends with Shrek asking Fiona. "The kids are in bed...what do you want to do now?" That's a decidedly adult joke, but don't worry...they end up falling asleep instead.

Yep. Shrek seems a bit tired.

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Deja Vu

I heard a lot of bad things about Déjà vu, with words tossed around like "contrived," "unbelievable," and "Jerry Bruckheimer." My parents, with their big screen television, forced me to sit down and watch the movie at 11 p.m., when I was ready to go to bed. But instead, I watched right to the end around 1 a.m. It's that good.

Déjà vu entails a terrorist attack by a really safe-kind of terrorist, the now almost-quaint homegrown American type who doesn't like America because...well, just because. Back when we didn't have enemies lurking around every corner, for a brief time America was its own worst enemy, and it's obvious Déjà vu was created from that era.

Our resident terrorist Carroll Oerstadt (Jim Caviezel, who once played a famous carpenter you might have heard of) decides to bomb a New Orleans ferry full of Navy sailors. The incident is no less horrific despite Oerstadt's unspecified reasons for the attack. Enter our hero, ATF agent Doug Carlin (Denzel Washington), invited to join the investigation by FBI Agent Pryzwarra (Val Kilmer). Since Carlin can't seem to find his partner and has the expertise to "examine the data," it seems like a good idea.

The plot thickens when Doug discovers the body of Claire Kuchever (Paula Patton), who appears to have been murdered before the bomb went off. That's when the science fiction piece comes into play. The FBI team has a device that allows them to track four days in the past. Of course, Doug figures it out soon enough--they're not just viewing the past, they're actually experiencing the past. And if one can experience the past, then maybe one can travel there...

This little restriction (only four days in the past, no more, no less) is an important plot twist. It lends a sense of urgency to an otherwise difficult concept for a thriller. Déjà vu makes the time travel element easy to accept, because the tantalizing possibilities spiral from there: other plot paths tie together (what happened to Doug's partner?) and there's even an amazing car chase where Doug must race in the present to view where Carroll goes in the past. It has to be seen to be believed.

Summaries of this film make much of Doug falling in love with Claire. But it's a borderline stalker relationship, as Doug knows Claire primarily through his time traveling surveillance. Fortunately, Déjà vu doesn't overdo it; there's not even a major onscreen kiss (more like a peck on the lips). And that's just as it should be...the events are too action packed, the pacing too frenetic. Anything more would border on camp.

Because Déjà vu is always moving, the actors primarily stay out of the way and let the action roll. There are a few clever lines ("We held hands once."), a few bad script rewrites ("I need more cowbell"? Come on guys, stop trying to be so hip) and plenty of gravely serious meditations on the existential nature of the universe. But mostly it's about blowing things up.

Déjà vu is an awesomely entertaining thriller with enough action, enough science fiction, and just enough skin to keep everybody interested. Don't miss it...again.

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The Prestige

The Prestige is the "other" film about magicians, which came out right around the time of The Illusionist. Although on the surface the two films seem to be set in similar time periods about similar subjects, they couldn't be more different.

The Prestige is about two magicians and their obsessive quest to one-up each other. Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman) is a polished American magician who performs with his wife, fellow British magician Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) and gizmo inventor Cutter (Michael Caine). When Angier's wife drowns during a trick, he blames Borden for the deed. Borden's unsatisfying response to which knot he tied is, "I don't know."

That burning question ("How could he not know?") consumes Angier and sets the tone for the movie. But this is esteemed director Christopher Nolan we're talking about, so nothing is that simple. The movie has multiple layers. It's broken into three parts (the Pledge, the Turn, and the Prestige). But it's also a duel between the two magicians, consuming everything from their friends (Cutter) to their wives to their mistresses (Olivia Wenscombe, played by Scarlett Johansson) to their very children, retold through each of their respective diaries. It's also a battle of magic vs. technology, illusion vs. reality, showmanship vs. stagecraft. Nolan poses the question: When does a single-minded quest for perfection become ruthless enough to commit murder?

The twists and turns in the film aren't too hard to follow; astute viewers will pick up on the secrets behind both magicians' acts. What's really terrifying is the little sins that magicians commit in performing their illusions. What happens to all cute those bunnies and pigeons that disappear? You don't want to know.

If The Prestige has a flaw, it's that the movie takes so long to reveal the entirety of its performance and deception. Still, the gut-punch ending is worth the wait.

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Superman Returns

In an era of Batman Begins, Sin City, Spiderman, and 300, it's easy to forget that there was a time when a movie based on a comic book wasn't a sure thing. For an example of a spectacular misfire, Spawn comes to mind; the movie was so obsessed with making the film look like a comic book that it actually FELT like you were watching a comic book, complete with isolated panels, minimal movement, and jarring transitions between scenes. One moment Spawn's threatening some guy and the next he's standing on some building with his really fabulous cloak whipping in the wind.

Similarly, Superman is a visually beautiful movie that has nowhere to go. The iconic scenes of Superman basking in the sun's rays, or hovering about the Earth listening for crime, or when he's actually doing something heroic (which happens far too infrequently) fail to cover up the complete lack of a coherent plot. For example:

Superman's been gone for years...one assumes that whatever he discovered on his long journey would have something to do with the plot. Nope.

Lex Luthor has discovered Superman's Fortress of Solitude and plans to create an entire continent out of a hybridized Kryptonite. Surely that means Superman won't even be able to get NEAR the place, right? Nope.

Once said "continent" shows up, it's clear that the whole thing is patently uninhabitable. This is Lex's big plan, to create a rock formation and play cards while he waits for...people to call him and offer him money or something? Surely he must have more up his sleeve? Nope.

Heck, the world's changed a lot since Superman's been gone, right? Wouldn't it make sense to really pound home how different Earth is, with it's global warming, crazy politics, and pop starlets? Nope. Instead, the crazy new world is supposed to be summed up with a kid taking a picture of Superman with his cell phone--that's right, the kid scooped the Daily Planet with just his camera phone! ISN'T THAT WACKY?

Superman Returns is very much a movie in love with the original and, while visually faithful, it's a very poor imitation. Yes, Brandon Routh looks like a spitting image of Christopher Reeves, but he has no real acting chops to display since he barely speaks. Kate Bosworth is far too young and whiny as Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen (Sam Huntington) still wears a bowtie for some reason, and the rest of the cast is too caught up in being iconic comic book characters to be memorable. Even the amazing Kevin Spacey can only be a marginally cartoonish Lex Luthor, jarringly transforming into a murderous thug at the movie's climax.

The pacing is all wrong. Superman saving Lois from a plane crash is great. Superman fighting criminals with belt-fed chain guns is excellent. Superman drowning, Superman moping, Superman frustrated over Lois Lane, Superman convalescing in a friggin' hospital? NOT GREAT.

Superman Returns has its moments, and if you squint your eyes it almost feels like the magic from the first movie has been captured. But then it's gone and the movie drags, and drags, and drags. Superman has been co-opted to be a Christ-like father-son parable and on the way Bryan Singer forgot what made the first Superman movie so great: it was FUN!

I could have made a better movie with my camera phone.

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RV

I've read reviews of RV, and they uniformly panned the movie as piffle; humorous tripe that reinforced family values and light humor, wasting the talents of Robin Williams.

Give me a break.

See, the implication that the family road trip movie is somehow a form of high art is fallacious to begin with. Although my family (and my wife's family) venerates the National Lampoon vacation movies as the ultimate in comedy, the truth of the matter is it's all a string of silly gags and ridiculous foils. It takes real skill to play a perpetually optimistic patriarch in the face of modern indignities and family squabbles. If anything, the family road trip movie is really just a condensed version of half the sitcoms on television. And there's a reason those sitcoms are still around, even though the critics patiently explain over and over how dumb they are.

They're right. It IS dumb. But then, so is having to deal with the inanities of modern life. RV is merely an update of a long established tradition of pitting a man (Bob Munro played by Robin Williams), his hot wife (Cheryl Hines), his teenage daughter (Joanna Levesque) and pre-teen son (Josh Hutcherson) against the world and seeing who comes out on top. And we root for Bob all the way.

What makes RV so appealing is that it doesn't deviate at all from the formula but cleverly updates all the trials and tribulations. Bob's affection for his adorable daughter at two years old is sharply contrasted by her wisecracking personality as a teenager. How many parents stare at their kids and wonder what happened to the darling who never wanted to leave their side? Bob's career hinges on finishing a presentation, and much of the movie is taken up with his personal struggle to find a signal for his Blackberry. Road warriors feel his pain. And as an older, funnier man, Bob constantly has to watch his back as younger, inexperienced climbers try to steal the spotlight.

In short, the Monroe struggles are the new struggles of the middle class. Sure, Clark Griswold didn't have these problems, but then the National Lampoon movies were made decades ago. RV brings it all up to date with one difference: unlike Cousin Eddie and his brood, the country folk are actually the wiser and more decent family. We could learn a lot from their home values, preaches Brother Sonnenfeld. Maybe he's right.

When RV was playing at my parents' house, we were waiting for my brother to join us to watch a DVD. Instead, we watched (and laughed at) RV all the way through.

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Tatters of the King: Hastur's Gaze Gains Brief Focus Upon the Earth

I run a Living Arcanis campaign, which also contains Freeport. With a wealth of material at my disposal, I decided to pick up Tatters of the King (TOK) to see how I could fit it into my campaign. I should point out that this is a long playtest review that contains spoilers galore. To help clarify what I did differently in my campaign, I will use a PLAYTEST tag.

Tatters of the King is a massive Call of Cthulhu adventure that details the invasion of Hastur on Earth. It's Hastur's grand oeuvre, presenting him as a Cthulhu-like entity, as the King in Yellow, and as a husband deity to Shub-Niggurath. Four cultists, each participating in a different path to bring about Hastur, attempt to contact him, only to go their separate ways. It's up to the player characters (PCs) to stop them.

Montague Edwards and Lawrence Bacon made an Unspeakable Oath with Hastur. Edwards regenerates, Bacon never sleeps. Alexander Roby is inexorably tied to Carcosa and the Yellow Sign, and only he can summon it to Earth. Malcom Quarrie is the most dangerous and the most committed to bringing the King in Yellow to Earth. The four unknowingly have a rival cultist in their mist, one Wilfred Gresty, who worships Shub-Niggurath and doesn't buy any of this "bride of Hastur" stuff.

The adventure begins with an opening night of the play, The King in Yellow, that drives people mad who witness it. There's an after-party held in celebration of the success of the event, wherein the PCs get to meet the author, Talbot Estus, and his players. A great introduction to the insanity to follow.
PLAYTEST: I placed the events in Freeport. Two of the PCs were present and ultimately escaped the madness that ensued. They returned in time to attend the opening night reception. There, one PC (Sebastian the sorcerer) decided Talbot Estus, was too dangerous to live and murdered him in cold blood.
In the mean time, the PCs are tasked with getting their friend, Alexander Roby, out of an insane asylum at the behest of Doctor Trollope. There were murders in the prison blamed on Roby, although how he committed them is impossible to tell. In reality, Edwards, who posed as a guard in the prison, committed the murders. The PCs are encouraged to interview Roby, who provides a telling prophecy both for the end of the campaign and of Doctor Trollope's death.
PLAYTEST: I changed Doctor Trollpe to be Kham the psychic warrior/rogue's father. I made Roby a childhood friend of Kham to provide more relevance. I also inserted a few adventures here involving finding Kham's father and a side jaunt into a "The Thing"-like adventure. The PCs witnessed a strange summoning involving nine monoliths and were attacked by byakhee. It also started to snow, unheard of in tropical Freeport. I made it a point of having an incarnation of the King in Yellow tell Kham that "he was the key."
With Trollope knowing too much, Edwards' chief henchman, Michael Coombs, assassinates him. The PCs receive a posthumous note from Trollope indicating that Roby predicted his death with a spell. Wilfred Gresty, a rival cultist of Shub-Niggurath, slips one of the PCs a note about Lawrence Bacon's whereabouts with the intent of catching him in the act of draining the homeless of their lifeofce.
PLAYTEST: Having Trollope be Kham's dad infused the adventure with a lot of emotional energy. Once he connected Bacon to his father's murderer, Kham tracked down the cultist and a showdown ensued, resulting in Bacon falling off a bridge into icy water. One cultist down, three to go!
A subsequent search of Bacon's home reveals a group of ghoul living in Bacon's basement.
PLAYTEST: In my campaign, ghouls were created through an addictive drug called ghoul juice. It wasn't too much of a stretch that Bacon was both a drug dealer as well as a dealer in antiquities. Kham, with no regard for his own safety, barely escaped with his life.
Determined to summon Hastur, Edwards breaks Roby out of prison. The next connection is an obituary for Bacon, written by none other than Aleister Crowley. The PCs are expected to visit Crowley and wheedle information out of him about Montague Edwards.
PLAYTEST: As a real-life analogue, Crowley had no place in Arcanis. So I went all out, turning him into the front man for a sadistic cult. They kidnapped one of the female PCs. This culminated in a battle in Crowley's basement, who eventually gave up the information they sought but escaped penalty due to his social and political connections.
Hot on the trail of Edwards, the PCs journey north only to discover that Roby succeeded: Carcosa has been summoned to Earth. Coombs plays a cat-and-mouse game with the PCs until they finally kill him. They then track down Roby and Edwards just in time to see Edwards summon thousands of byakhee and Hastur himself.
PLAYTEST: Kham killed Edwards easily, but was unable to stop the summoning. There are several ways to stop it, but I went for the dramatic approach. Roby demanded Kham throw him a pistol in self-defense--in reality, Roby knew he was the key to closing Carcosa. So he shoots himself. Ilmare and Kham barely escaped with their lives. The town left behind was utterly obliterated by Carcosa and Hastur's appearance. Three cultists down, one to go!
Time passes. The PCs meet Gresty, presumably when he's in prison. He reveals information about Shug-Niggurath and its rivalry with the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign. He also provides a link to events happening at Nug's Farm.

There, Hillary Quarrie, the wife of Malcolm, is in fact the heir-apparent to the Shub-Niggurath priesthood. Only Gresty lusts for her power, creating an inevitable showdown. This is the single-most exciting part of the campaign, with the PCs going toe-to-toe with a Dark Young. Only a ritual cast by Hillary saves them.

Using information gleaned from Hillary, the PCs travel to Milan. There, they met up with Thomas Villiers, who ultimately betrays them with another byakhee. This in turn reveals where Malcolm disappeared to: Drakmar, in Tibet.
PLAYTEST: Fortunately, Arcanis has portals that span the planet, so I skipped what I consider to be the most boring part of the adventure: long overland travel. The PCs resumed the adventure at the Monastery at Te, wherein they met Carlo Schippone, a crack shot. They made short work of him and journeyed onward to meet the Horror from the Hills.

And that horror is Chaugnar Faugn. The PCs didn't do anything stupid, although the adventure makes much of what happens if they do. Surrounded by Tcho-Tchos, the PCs were dutifully ushered past Chaugnar Faugn into the Plateau of Leng, where they met Malcolm Quarrie at last.

Only Quarrie is a pacifist. Bound and determined to summon the King in Yellow, Sebastian convinced Quarrie that they are aligned in their goals. This worked for a little while until Shantaks attack. That's when Sebastian used the opportunity to kill Quarrie in cold blood. See a pattern here?
Finally, the PCs meet the King in Yellow. He simply asks who will lead him to Earth. PCs who hesitate...DIE.
PLAYTEST: Kham, convinced that this was his burden to bear, agreed at first...then changed his mind. The King slit his throat. Sebastian was up next. He planned to lead the King astray. And so he did, leading him back to Carcosa and taking Sebastian (at least temporarily) out of play. The adventure left the PCs feeling like they had lost even though they had saved the world.
TOK is an excellent series of adventures, marred occasionally by the usual Cthulhu foils: assuming investigators will be naive or helpless (these days, most investigators carry guns and in my D&D game, they carry really heavy firepower in the form of spells), spending way too much time on overland travel, and an overemphasis on how PCs can avoid going insane by closing their eyes...a decidedly unheroic thing to do that shouldn't work anyway.

But when TOK hits its mark, it really makes for memorable sessions. The moral quandaries that the PCs regularly faced made for exciting play, and the fever pitch of the Dark Young showdown is magnificent...unfortunately it has very little to do with the main plot (it's essentially internecine squabbling with a completely unrelated cult).

There are plenty of notes and props, all of them useful. Especially intriguing are the nightmares that the PCs experience and the means of conveying the King in Yellow's telepathy (it involves cue cards). All of this made for evocative scenes that kept my PCs guessing.

Best of all, TOK plays for keeps. While the sacrifice of two PCs was a serious blow, it FELT like the conclusion to a series. And given the grand tour of Hastur and his ilk, we all appreciated the ending.

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300

I have tremendous respect for Frank Miller, having been exposed to his reimagining of Batman at an early age. Miller infused Batman with mature dignity, heavy with grief over what he was doing but doing it anyway. No wonder, then, that the tale of the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae appealed to him enough to create a graphic novel.

I've heard that comics were originally movie story boards that someone decided to sell, so it's no wonder that, when the director has respect for Miller's material (as Robert Rodriguez did with Sin City), the end result is nothing short of breathtaking. But there's a lot of ego and a lot of money in Hollywood, and it takes a clear-minded director to subsume his own inclinations and stay true to Miller's material. Zack Snyder follows in Rodriguez's footsteps and the end result...

Well the end result was a theater packed with kids, who, five minutes into the film, become utterly silent.

The movie's plot is somewhat beside the point. 300's really an experience, not a movie. It's everything cool about Gladiator's war against the barbarian tribes, everything amazing about Achilles' fighting style and six-pack abs in Troy, all the special effects of Clash of the Titans brought up to date for the modern age, everything terrifying about the villain from Stargate, and a whole heap of the Lord of the Rings' saber rattling wrapped up into one glorious, bloody fight to the death.

Squeamish about gore? This movie is not for you. 300 doesn't just show you death, it rolls around in it and makes it beautiful. Limbs, heads, entrails...all of it spatters and smears on screen.

Don't like violence? This movie is not for you. 300 kills and kills and kills, and when the bodies are heaped so high that you can make a wall out of them, it kills everybody else too.

Machismo annoys you? This movie is not for you. Men joke as they skewer their helpless enemies, make fun of Athenian "boy lovers," and keep a running murder tally for who can rack up the most kills. Gimli and Legolas would be jealous.

Want to be politically correct? This movie is not for you. 300 is a retelling of a Greek war from the perspective of the Greeks. Persians are the enemy, and they are demonized in every way imaginable, both figuratively (the Immortals wear demonic masks) and literally (yep, that's a goat-headed monster playing the flute).

300 is about a leader and his 299 best friends standing to the last to do what's right, to bow to no man when every logic dictates otherwise, to die for king and yes, country because history will remember you as a hero. Back when we remembered what heroes were. And you find yourself cheering, because this is how many men secretly wish they could die...not in a hospital, not walking across the street, but with a sword in their hand and piles of enemies at their feet.

I loved the movie. My brother loved the movie. My sister-in-law loved the movie. My pregnant wife loved the movie too.

And the other 296 kids in the audience? They gave it a standing ovation.

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Dragonfly

I met Fred Durbin at last year's World Fantasy Convention. I had the pleasure of hanging out with him for most of the con. He and I had never been to the convention before and didn't know anybody else. Fred's a great guy. I liked him so much that when he gave me a review copy of his book, I was terrified that I might not enjoy it.

I needn't have worried. Not only did I greatly enjoy Dragonfly, I'm in awe of Fred's writing ability. The novel is not merely an author coming up with a neat twist on an old idea. It's a literary piece of art, and it's clear that Fred is in love with the English language. He creates metaphors and weaves adjectives in such a beautiful fashion that it's almost distracting, as someone who respects the English language, to read Fred in action. He spins gold out every sentence...he's that good.

Dragonfly is about the encroachment of a Halloween town of nightmare-eaters on the real world. These beings, led by Sam Hain (look closely, you'll get it), include vampires, werewolves, witches and the walking dead. They're everything a child worries lurks under the bed or in the closet or behind a mirror. And truth be told, the bad guys really are that bad; child snatching, soul-stealing monsters who are unabashedly evil.

Our heroine, ten-year-old Dragonfly, visits her Uncle Henry's house only to discover that there's someone digging their way up from the basement. Henry summons an old ally named Mothkin and before long all three are embroiled in a struggle of live, love, death, and dreams.

Make no mistake: Fred's not pulling any punches. The bad guys do horrible things. People die. Our ten-year-old heroine suffers love and loss. Most refreshingly, Fred never portrays adults as complete morons who turn up their noses at superstitions. Every character has a life of his or her own and they fight to defend it, good and bad, with every breath.

It's a wonder that the book isn't more successful. Dragonfly is a novel waiting to be turned into a movie in this day and age of tween stories that are read by adults. My suspicion is there are two problems hindering the book: 1) The cover. The cover, while evocative, is busy. The owl in the top left seems more important than the two tiny figures in the middle, and the crazy plants to either side are a distraction. While this is technically an accurate depiction of the novel (the moon is especially important), it's simply not very enticing to a reader looking for spooky thrills. 2) I have no idea why this book is titled Dragonfly. When I think of dragonflies, I do not think of little girls battling the forces of nightmare. And truth be told, I never quite got why the main character is named Dragonfly. Perhaps it's just me and I missed why the protagonist is named Dragonfly...but nevertheless, the title of the book should never have been "Dragonfly." How about "Night of the Harvest Moon" with a scarier cover?

Don't let the title or the cover turn you off to this magnificent work. Fred's writing is on the level of Mervyn Peake's, only more approachable and less depressing. Any self-respecting fan of Halloween should give Dragonfly a chance.

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Marvel Ultimate Alliance

I played X-men: Legends for the Playstation 2 and, although I liked the idea of playing with four players at once, the actual game play left a lot to be desired. There were a couple of problems, not the least of which was that four characters on the screen were difficult to keep track of or even see. When the camera was hovering a thousand feet up, attractive graphics became irrelevant--everybody looked like ants. Also, you couldn't play the cool characters right away but had to earn them, which made the game frustrating.

Marvel Ultimate Alliance (MUA) fixes all those problems. You start out playing the characters you WANT to play: Spider-Man, Wolverine, Doctor Strange, Deadpool, the works. The cooler characters you have to earn, but they're worth earning: Silver Surfer, Ghost Rider, Blade, Daredevil, Black Panther and even Nick Fury. My team of choice was Doctor Strange, Blade, Ghost Rider, and Deadpool. Pick your team of four heroes and you're off!

Your team is assembled to beat bad guys at the behest of SHIELD Agent Nick Fury, he of the eye patch and white gloves. Then you proceed to battle an array of villains led by Doctor Doom, from Mephisto to Loki, Galactus to esoteric bad guys like Dragonman. Just about everyone in the Marvel universe is in this game.

The game play is standard: shoot things, slash things, and blow things up. In turn, various minions will do their best to knock you out, leaving the hero unconscious for a period of time until he recovers. There were a few times I ran through the game with just one hero left, like when Ghost Rider took on an entire legion of Skrull warriors and Galactus droids, tossing them off cliffs with his chains. Man, that was fun...but I digress.

Although most of the time you can't zoom in on the characters, you get a much better perspective of them when you handle the upgrades. The upgrade system is intricate, detailing everything from the powers the heroes use to the gadgets they pick up to the outfits they wear. This is especially good, because folks accustomed to the movie version of Blade will be horrified to see what his original costumes looked like in the comic (hint: think green). That said, the costumes actually matter, and you slowly unlock costumes throughout the game that will appeal to fans that know the characters from the comics (Doctor Strange's alternate costumes are friggin' weird).

MUA gets a lot of things right. The powers are evocative of the comic, from Ghost Rider's vengeance stare to Doctor Strange's magical bolts, to Blade's shotgun, katana, and pistol. The hero voices perfectly match their characters. Blade SOUNDS like Wesley Snipes. Doctor Strange sounds like the way I've always imagined him. Ghost Rider is suitably gravelly. And Deadpool...well I've never imagined Deadpool speaking but it fits.

The boards are interesting and interactive. Most fun is Arcade, sort of a Joker for the Marvel universe, complete with funhouse and old-style games like Pong and Pitfall that you have to play (I imagine kids are scratching their heads...). The boss fights show off the detail of the characters, as they involve button-mashing sequences as opposed to straightforward combat. This makes for a cinematic climax to every end battle.

There are some things that are still a little silly. While it's great that you can bash and smash nearly everything, from walls to sculptures to machinery, sometimes that simply doesn't make sense. Our heroes begin on a SHIELD helicarrier that's about to crash, and they gain coinage by...smashing everything on the ship. Isn't that exactly the opposite of what they're supposed to be doing?

But that's a minor quibble. The game has oodles of replayability, as you search for collectible action figures (I found all of the Daredevil ones, but not the Black Panther), find special mission discs that let you play out scenes from each heroes past, and even develop your team's powers. GO TEAM VENTURE!

I haven't played multiplayer, but you can play against an opponent or with up to four of your buddies. That just sounds like a lot of fun. Even the computer-controlled characters are not complete morons, which is a refreshing change for this sort of game.

Everything that makes the Marvel comics universe great is here in obsessive levels of detail. I enjoyed the game so much that I played it to completion and then some. I can only hope that the next game will allow you to carry over your saved characters. It's enough to make a Marvel fanboy weep with joy.

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Primer

TRESCA-PRIME: Primer is a no-frills science fiction film that details a realistic portrayal of time travel. Like Donnie Darko, it examines what happens when humans discover they can influence time...and then just how little control they really have over it. Aaron (Shane Carruth) and Abe (David Sullivan) struggle to create a magnetic invention in their garage, only to stumble upon time travel. And once Pandora's Box is opened, there's no going back. In no time (pun intended), they're sending themselves into the past. This leads to a perpetual struggle to avoid paradoxes that most time travel stories don't consider. When duplicate cell phones are in the same time stream, which one rings first? Can you really avoid changing the outcome of reality simply by avoiding your prime self? And who is really the "first" prime anyway? The film explores all these possibilities, which makes it an interesting "what-if" scenario that exponentially spins more and more questions. That said, I have to admit that my first viewing of Primer wasn't all that favorable. The dialogue sounds like it came out of Clerks, the film is often grainy and choppy, and there's almost no action whatsoever throughout the script. Perhaps my future selves will have a different opinion.

TRESCA-2: On second viewing, the term "Primer" takes on new meaning. Primer can mean an introductory textbook, and indeed we discover that Aaron was providing a guideline for future events to his Prime self--in other words, a textbook of sorts as to how to relive his life again without causing a paradox. Primer can also mean white paint, used coat something for the first time. As Aaron discovers he can go back in time, he begins to whitewash events, making himself look like a hero and giving himself the best possible outcomes. But are these changes merely cosmetic, like paint? Finally, there's the notion of Primer as an explosive, setting off a disastrous chain of events. And the end of the film leaves us with the certainty that something very bad is about to happen.

TRESCA-4: Another alternative my former selves hadn't thought of was Primer as being first and primary. Once Aaron discovers the ability to create multiple versions of himself, he becomes increasingly obsessed with controlling them. And of course, each Aaron in the past feels exactly the same way. So how do you become the prime? How do you become the person who is control of your own destiny? How do you become your own God? Aaron and Abe (Abraham) are Biblical names and their inclusion is certainly not an accident.

TRESCA-8: Seeing the movie again really makes you appreciate exactly how much work went into crafting Primer. Dialogue and scenes that seem odd and disjointed make perfect sense when you realize it's the time doubles tweaking the timeline. The more duplicates that get involved, the more the film becomes fuzzy and unfocused, a sometimes annoying but important visual cue. And always there is the suspicion that something is off, from the "rats in the attic" to Abe waking up laying face down on the floor, to the fact that Aaron doesn't want to "talk to those kids who hang out" with Abe. Why? Multiple viewings tie it together.

TRESCA-16: Primer is probably one of the most realistic portrayals of time travel science in recent memory, but that doesn't necessarily make it an engaging film. Primer strains our patience. Most of the time, the characters stand around chatting with each other from innovative camera angles. The climactic moment, a scene where an ex-boyfriend shows up with a shotgun at a party, is never even shown. And the grainy footage, the monotone dialogue, the talking-over-each-other style of acting, all make the film seem more like a reality show than a movie. It doesn't have the slick sensibilities of Donnie Darko or the neatly wrapped storyline of Groundhog Day. And yet, the nihilistic outcome of the film is too powerful to ignore, sticking with you through multiple future viewings.

In short, Primer is both a fantastic piece of thoughtful science fiction and a challenging viewing experience. By all means watch it. You owe it to your future selves.

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Aeon Flux

Ever since I saw Peter Chung's creation mow down piles of enemies with her two Uzis, a leather S&M get up, and little else, I fell in love. Aeon Flux was bizarre, action-packed, and short on words (actually, almost none at all when she first debuted on Liquid T.V.). I watched it over and over, I drew Aeon multiple times until I got her right, and the breakneck pace that was established in the film still affects my writing to this day.

So it was with no small trepidation that I approached the Aeon Flux movie. How could they possibly do justice to a bizarre series that was as much a style as it was a cartoon, alternately ugly and sleekly beautiful all at the same time?

Taking place in 2415, Aeon (Charlize Theron sporting a brunette `do) is an agent of the Monicans. The Monicans wage a secret war against Trevor Goodchild (Martin Csokas), a well-meaning despot who struggles to keep the fragile city of Bregna together. The Earth has long since been devastated by a plague, and there are only five million survivors left in the city. And yet there's something rotten in the city of Bregna, for Trevor's brother Oren (Jonny Lee Miller) is about to stage a coup.

After her sister Una (Amelia Warner) is murdered, Aeon's out for revenge against the supposed despot. Assisting Aeon in her mission of revenge is Sithandra (Sophie Okonedo) who happens to have hands for feet. And yet when she finally faces her target, Aeon discovers there's something very familiar about Trevor that gives her pause.

Aeon Flux was directed by a woman (Karyn Kusama) and her sensibilities bring a refreshing touch to a genre that is all too muscular, boxy, and grim. Like The Fifth Element, Aeon Flux is an entry in a science fiction genre that avoids the standard futuristic tropes and injects new and bizarre technology into it. Body modification, as evidenced by Sithandra, is an accepted part of sciety. Technology is organic, ranging from killer grass to dart guns shaped like beehives, computers made of water to holograms formed of harp-like strings. All the Monican agents are linked by a telepathic connection that lets them visualize each other in a sort of World Wide Web of the mind. Fashion styles are reminiscent of French couture. A zeppelin computer that looms overhead has all the appearance of a monstrous jellyfish. Even the city looks like a giant carnation from above.

Aeon herself is played with deadly seriousness by Theron, who draws on her ballerina training to adopt a dancer's pose. Her martial arts is as much an art form as it is combat style, and the graceful leaps and jumps that the cartoon version effortlessly executed are much in evidence here; an amazing achievement, given that the original character's proportions barely conformed to reality.

So what's the problem? Critics lambasted the film, characterizing it as too complicated. It's difficult for me to agree with them, because fans of the show will know precisely what's going on...and yet the movie wasn't spoiled for me either. In fact, the biggest flaw of the film is the motive for Oren to "recycle" people in the city of Bregna. His "my way or else" proposition isn't really justified in the movie's narrative, such that we just have to trust that there's simply no room for compromise between the two ideologies battling it out on screen. But once you're past that hurdle, the film is as much eye-candy as it is an interesting post-apocalyptic entry into alternative sci-fi.

The backlash on this film is suspicious. Perhaps it was Theron's Oscar win. Perhaps it's simply that many critics don't like science fiction. Or perhaps it's that a truly feminist take on a science fiction world makes male reviewers uncomfortable. Whatever the case, sci-fi fans should definitely give Aeon Flux a chance.

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Walking Tall

Walking Tall is a remake of the 1973 film, which is in turn a "semi-biopic" of Sheriff Buford Pusser. Ironically enough, Pusser was a former professional wrestler-turned lawman in McNairy County, Tennessee. For those of you keeping track, the Buford Pusser was renamed to Chris Vaughn (in the world of macho movies, this is understandable) and his background was changed from wrestling to Special Forces. Which is funny, because Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, who plays the role of Vaughn, is a former professional wrestler turned actor.

In this action movie, Vaughn returns to his hometown of Kitsap County, Washington (instead of Pusser's actual McNairy County, Tennessee) from a stint in the Special Forces. We're not sure what Vaughn did, but it must have been ugly, because he never speaks about it and answers questions about people he killed with a sad stare. Unfortunately, Kitsap County has gone downhill since the local lumber mill closed. His father, Vaughn Sr. (John Beasley) is out of work. Vaughn's sister Michelle (Kristen Wilson) has become a cop, but her son Pete (Khleo Thomas) hangs out with the wrong crowd. Heck, even Vaughn's old girlfriend Deni (Ashley Scott) has become a stripper. All these sins can be blamed on Vaughn's old high school rival, Jay Hamilton (played with sneering arrogance by Neal McDonough).

Vaughn's return is cause for celebration by his friends, including the recovering alcoholic Ray (Johnny Knoxville, of all people), who treat him to a night of gambling and debauchery at Hamilton's premiere casino. But the whole place is dirty, where gamblers cheat and drugs are given to kids. It's at this point that Walking Tall flirts with cartoonish levels of evil. Even Hamilton points this out: "Why would I sell drugs when I own the entire town already?" Why indeed?

Vaughn goes nuts once he discovers that the place is corrupt, and his fisticuffs earn him a form of vicious revenge from the security staff that involves a box cutter and a lot of cutaway scenes of Vaughn screaming. Left to die, he manages to recover on his parents' sofa. The sheriff (Michael Bowen) and his deputies are obviously in Hamilton's pocket and refuse to help. When Vaughn's nephew overdoses on drugs gained from Hamilton's casino, Vaughn's had enough: he takes a four-foot hickory club and smashes the place up. That's just the first half of the movie.

Returning to reality, Vaughn's outburst causes him to be brought up on several charges, brought by the very people who cut him up the first time. Vaughn wins the case by appealing to squeamishness of the jury, who wince once he shows them the scars from the box cutter. "If you acquit me of these charges, I'll run for sheriff!" he shouts. And they do. And he does. What happens next is a good old-fashioned butt-whupping from a big man with a big stick.

I didn't expect much from an action movie headlined by a wrestler, but Walking Tall distinguishes itself in several ways that make it worth watching:

IT'S MULTIETHNIC: Vaughn's father is black, his mother is white; Vaughn's girlfriend is white. The movie doesn't make a big deal about it.

IT KNOWS ITS LIMITATIONS: The Rock is huge. This obvious fact is used against Vaughn when he's on trial, as the poor, beat-up thugs make him out to be a monster. And he sort of is...he's just a monster you want on your side. Ray is both pathetic and amusing, but mostly pathetic, as only Knoxville can play him.

IT UNABASHEDLY LOVES ACTION: This movie is about good guys beating up bad guys. Although Vaughn's Special Forces training is curiously absent from most of the film, he does get into fistfights and gunfights with everybody. The fighting is fast and furious but never overtly cinematic. There are lots of thuds, grunts, and crunches.

I like The Rock. He's handsome and sleek in a way that other muscle-bound stars are not, conveying both strength and speed. He doesn't come off as a brutal thug by just looking at him, unless he's standing next to someone else. And because Johnson is famous for arching his eyebrow in ironic "am I for real or what?" pose, he's able to pull off comedy by standing next to someone considerably smaller, like Knoxville.

Walking Tall has both heart and muscle, a feel-good tale about a tough guy who stands up for his hometown in an era when nobody seems to be standing up for anything anymore.

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March of the Penguins

Babies die. Parents starve to death. And couples struggle to raise their children in a harsh world. This is March of the Penguins.

Penguins have been so personified as cartoon character stereotypes that they're nearly impossible to take seriously. Where they were once comedic inspiration (e.g., Chilly Willy) they have since morphed into too-cute-to-be-real creatures known for tap dancing and drinking bottles of cola. One viewing of March of the Penguins will dispel that perception very quickly.

March of the Penguins follows one of innumerable penguins on their journey to and from their breeding grounds. The challenge lies in the location of the ice floe. The penguins must lay their eggs in a place that is thick enough to not melt, and yet the terrain shrinks and grows, making the trip longer or shorter depending on the season. First the males, then the females, must protect the chicks against the elements, starvation and predators. Will they survive?

Some inevitably do not. This is not a sappy documentary, but an unblinking portrayal of just how harsh the world can really be. It's easy to relate to these creatures, so different from us and yet so alike. After all, they walk.

There are few anthropomorphic creatures that lend themselves to storytelling. Monkeys and apes are an obvious choice, maybe prairie dogs, and then there are the penguins. The film treats them as a tribe, and as they waddle slowly towards their inevitable destination of life and death, surrounded by ice that could be miles or feet high, we see our struggles in their own tribes.

An excellent, sentimental film that is never too cute. Penguins have never been so dignified.

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Chicken Little

On my recent trip to my in-laws for Christmas, I got the opportunity to see quite a few movies with my nieces and nephews. Chicken Little was on the DVD player, so I had the opportunity to watch it.

Chicken Little is Disney's first fully rendered computer graphics animation, throwing in its hat to compete with the Pixar folks (who once worked with Disney, but no longer). Now that these kinds of movies have become ubiquitous--see any movies about talking fuzzy animals lately?--there's actually a standard to compare these films. Unfortunately for the competition, Pixar has set the bar very high.

We all know the story: the eponymous Chicken Little (Zach Braff, he of Scrubs fame) is outside playing when a piece of the sky hits him on the head. Freaking out in grand fashion, Chicken Little proceeds to tell everyone that the sky is falling. Only it isn't, and Little kind of looks like a fool, because he overreacted. It wasn't actually a piece of the sky falling, you see. And thus we have a simple fairy tale similar to the boy crying wolf: Don't overreact to potentially bad news, or people won't believe you when there IS bad news.

That's the first five minutes of Chicken Little.

Moving forward in time, we see that Chicken Little has it rough. His mom is nowhere to be found, and his exasperated dad, Buck Cluck (Garry Marshall), tries to keep up with his son's eccentricities. A huge geek, Chicken Little suffers a host of indignities that life throws at him (nearly getting run over, getting pummeled in dodgeball, losing his pants, the list goes on and on) but Little overcomes them with cheerful ingenuity. Facing the thousand cuts of school along with Little are his friends Abby Mallard AKA the Ugly Duckling (Joan Cusak), the very fat pig known as Runt of the Litter (Steve Zahn), and the weird Fish Out of Water (Dan Molina). Their arch nemesis is Foxy Loxy (Amy Sedaris).

All Chicken Little really wants to do is make his dad proud. So he joins a baseball team and, like a typical feel-good coming-of-age sports parable, makes the winning play and earns the love of friends, family, and the community. It's like a film within a film.

Then the sky falls again. Finally, Chicken Little switches to the actual plot: a War of the Worlds-style invasion by aliens. Of course.

So what exactly is wrong with an underdog character overcoming an alien invasion, the prejudices of the community, poor past judgment, and did I mention an alien invasion?

TOO ADULT. Whereas the Pixar films speak to both adults and kids, Chicken Little talks down to kids and throws in stupid slapstick that feels pointless, just to keep the little ones entertained. Then it adds in awkward adult scenes in parts where it doesn't make sense. Do we really need a romance (and a kiss!) between Abby and Little? Or Runt singing, "If You Wanna Be My Lover"? Worse, many of the in-jokes are very dated.

TOO UGLY. Pixar characters are undeniably cute, be it a fish, a car, an ant, or a toy. Chicken Little is an ugly little toad; his feathers look like spines, his eyes are beady, and he has a tiny beak for his massive head. Runt is grossly overweight, Abby is literally an ugly duckling, Fish Out of Water is completely nuts...these are not characters you readily connect with. Braff's voice acting goes a long way in making Little a likable character, but it takes awhile.

TOO SCI-FI. I actually liked this movie a lot, once I realized it was a riff on War of the Worlds. How often do CGI cartoon characters run screaming from aliens? Okay, they did it in Jimmy Neutron too. The problem is that Chicken Little switches abruptly from a cute morality play to terrifying invasion scenario that involves characters getting zapped out of existence. They all turn out to be okay later, of course, but it sure as heck looks like the aliens killed the cute characters.

That said, my niece and nephews watched it twice. All three of them (my twelve-year-old nephew, seven-year-old niece, and my three-year-old godson) loved it. So perhaps where Chicken Little fails in its pseudo-appeal to adults, it succeeds with the kids. Or maybe they just like to see a fat pig run from alien tripods.

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Dodgeball - A True Underdog Story

Let's get one thing straight: there really is, God help us, an International Dodge Ball Federation. That alone seems like enough of an excuse for a comedy about the sport. And lo, Ben Stiller saw that it was good and he made a movie about it with mixed results.

Ben Stiller usually plays sympathetic, frustrated nerds who lose their tempers when things don't go their way. In Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story, the usual Stiller charm has been dropped and replaced by an arrogant, irritating character named White Goodman. He is the founder of an extremely popular gym that has plans to expand by taking over extremely uptight, fastidious Peter La Fleur, played by Vince Vaughn.

Just kidding! Of course Vaughn wouldn't play anyone uptight or fastidious. He's made a career out of playing easygoing regular Joes, sometimes with large vocabularies that betray a hint of intelligence, who don't work too hard and just want to get by in life. When Vaughn is paired with an even more mellow guy like Owen Wilson, it makes Vaughn look animated in comparison and the two become an excellent combination of mellow/acerbic. See Wedding Crashers for a more palatable mix.

But alas, Wilson isn't in this film. Instead, Le Fleur is backed by a cast of equally lovable idiots, including obscure sportsphile Gordon (Stephen "Red Stapler" Root), clueless Owen (Joel Moore), normal guy Dwight (Chris Williams), the appropriately named Justin (Justin Long), and for some reason that only Stiller understands, Steve the Pirate (Alan Tudyk). Le Fleur falls hard for the lovely Kate Veatch (Christine Taylor and Stiller's wife), a lawyer in the employ of Goodman.

How can our just-like-you gaggle of guys possibly beat the overcoifed, hyperactive Goodman? Why, with a little training from the dodgeball champion himself, Patches O'Houlihan (Rip Torn). Patches is the funniest character in the entire movie. That's not a compliment.

Like the ill-fated Anchorman, Dodgeball is actually more amusing to quote than it is to watch. Stiller is much funnier as an underdog and makes for a two-dimensional villain. Vaughn is unbelievable as a successful business owner and flounders without a foil to play off of. Taylor tries, again, to be the straight woman like she did in Anchorman, but she's too slickly attractive to pull it off convincingly.

Thing is, Dodgeball doesn't care if you like it. Jason Bateman, Lance Armstrong, Chuck Norris, William Shatner, and David Hasslehoff all make appearances, so it's obvious the film doesn't take itself too seriously. On the other hand, the amusement around these characters being in the movie depends directly on the cultural relevance to the audience. The Chuck Norris jokes are getting a little creaky.

If you watch Dodgeball with your buddies and a case of beer, it definitely earns five stars. Otherwise it's merely a passable entry in the goofy sports genre.

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Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is another Jim Carey movie I wasn't too sure about. He's had a better track record lately with his more serious films, so I was willing to give it a shot. And I'm glad I did.

Combining all the mental hijinks of Memento and the mind-bending, "is this reality?" confusion of movies like Strange Days and eXistenz, the movie essentially posits one question: if you could erase any one experience from your mind, would you?

But before we get to that question, we see Joel Barish (Jim Carey) meet Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet) on a train. It's supposedly happenstance, and the two hit it off immediately. These first five minutes carry the whole movie. The two actors exhibit just enough nuanced familiarity that it's alternately exhilarating and creepy-they FEEL like they've known each other their entire lives. The rest of the movie then swings back to the circumstances leading up to their meeting.

Joel has, in fact, met Clementine before and had a whirlwind romance that somewhere along the lines lost its whirl. They are strikingly different personalities who find attraction in their opposite: Joel is cautious, Clementine's a maniac. Joel is quiet (hard to believe Carey playing quiet, I know), Clementine is a bundle of energy. They alternately drive each other crazy and are crazy about each other. But unfortunately, the nature of the relationship is so tempestuous that the possibility of erasing one's memory is simply too tempting. Like a madman with a pocket nuke, it's inevitable that Clementine's personality will succumb to the lure of memory erasing...but the consequences have grave repercussions.

Hurt and desperate, Clementine's brash decision pushes Joel to do the same thing. If she's going to erase him, well he's going to do the same thing right back at her! It's a procedure that takes an entire night and it's only a few days into the erasing of her memories that Joel realizes he LIKES his pain, his angst, his embarrassment, and even his hatred of her. The ups and downs, the good and bad parts of their relationship, are ultimately inseparable, and Joel realizes he will lose a part of his soul along with Clementine should his memory of her be erased.

So he fights it. Thus have another plot thread, as Joel drags his memory of Clementine with him through the dark hallways of his mind. All the while, Joel is pursued in the real world by the Lacuna Memory Erasure team. Dr. Howard Mierzwiak (Tom Wilkinson) leads the team, a kindly father figure who is not nearly as nice as he seems. Stan (Mark Ruffalo) and Patrick (Elijah Wood) assist the good doctor, making an on-site visit to Joel's house. Which is at least as horrifying as it is comedic, because while Joel is in a drugged coma on his bed, Stan and Patrick eat his food, drink his beer, get high, and practically have an orgy in his apartment.

Like Memento, Spotless Mind posits that when people aren't looking, the ethics of society don't just fall apart, they explode...whatever you imagine people might do to you while you're helpless is just the tip of the iceberg. Patrick proves just who unethical he is when we discover he has decided to take advantage of Clementine by recycling all of Joel's memories-memories that were supposedly destroyed to complete the erasure process.

As if that weren't enough, Dr. Mierzwiak's assistant Mary (Kirsten Dunst), is dating Stan. The secret she uncovers about herself and her work will shatter the Lacuna program and the lives of all those who it touched.

The director takes an innovative twist on how he conveys the dream world. Images become faded and indistinct. Sound crackles in and then whispers away. Some scenes appear to be lit exclusively by a flashlight, perfectly representing the selective memory of Joel's mind. Other scenes are lensed in distinct colors of yellow and blue. Still other scenes are nightmarish-people are faceless, bodies slide off into darkness, and as Joel's mind stumbles under the technological assault, structures and people literally collapse in front of him.

Ultimately, it's Charlie Kaufman's writing that perfectly blends what could be a horrible mess. Just when you think all the various plotline could not possibly be resolved...we're back at that train, and the thrill and awkwardness of that first attraction.

Spotless Mind is about the maturation of a romance and the decision every couple must go through when they realize that the "honeymoon is over." Joel and Clementine come to a crossroads and stumble horribly astray, just as so many couples fall apart every day without the benefit of erasing the memories of their exes. Love, Kaufman seems to say, is about the person you are after the honeymoon is over.

Carey is suitably restrained, which makes him seem all the more pathetic when the movie focuses on the happier, more energetic times. His hair is a mop top, is sweaters always rumpled. In short, he's a sad sack that Carey captures perfectly...a funny man who has nothing to laugh about.

Dunst plays a perfectly awkward, clueless young girl dealing with a technology she does not understand. Her characters growth, destruction, and rebirth steals the show. The other characters are suitably dazed and confused, not the least of which is Wood's not-Frodo-anymore Patrick. He's so fresh-faced, it's hard to believe he's doing such disrespectful things to Clementine.

But by far, Winslet plays the most compelling character of her career. Winslet not only adopts an American accent, she plays Clementine as herself (a sometimes whiny, neurotic mess), as Joel remembers her (erotically playful, maddeningly confusing, and sometimes just a shrew), and as echoes of Joe's memories. This is a lot to pull off for anybody, but Winslet never missed a beat.

Perhaps the biggest compliment I can give this movie is that I KNOW these people. See it, and you will too.

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Mind Hunter: Inside the FBI's Elite Serial Crime Unit

I bought Mindhunter: Inside the FBI's Elite Serial Crime Unit, for research purposes. I'm writing a book about playing the "good guys" who hunt typical movie slashers, and this book seemed like a good introduction into how the ESCU works to catch the bad guys. What I got was something else entirely.

John Douglas is a very scary man. He's someone who has seen far too many horrific crimes, such that they affect him personally-when his kids scrape their knees, Douglas recounts tales of children torn in half by a murderer. When his wife cuts her finger with a kitchen knife, he points out how the spatter pattern would tell a story about what happened. Ultimately, this sort of exposure leads to a divorce and Douglas is upfront about the damage his profession did to his job.

The book starts out with Douglas in the hospital, the victim of being overworked and without enough manpower to help him. Near death, he recounts the creation of the ESCU and his struggles in making the profiling of serial killers (he invented the term) a legitimate profession. But it does not go into much detail as to how the ESCU works. In fact, it's more about Douglas and about the murderers themselves.

And what a ghastly rogues gallery it is! We have serial killers who invent vigilante groups to cover their tracks, we have killers who like to fly prostitutes out to woodlands and then hunt them down like deer, killers who believe God is telling them to kill people, and killers who strangle, rape, drown, and stab.

I read "Legacy of Blood: A Comprehensive Guide to Slasher Movies" at the same time and found an odd juxtaposition between the two books. Legacy of Blood states that the comfort of slasher flicks is that the bad guy is easily recognized by his disgusting appearance and his sudden attacks, when in reality serial killers often look like normal people and torture their victims for hours.

Not true, according to Mindhunter. Indeed, many of the killers are degenerate slimeballs, incapable of social contact and forced to use blitz-style attacks against the weak and helpless because of their inadequacies. Many have severe stutters, bad acne, or some other disfigurement. Nearly all have been abused in some fashion by their parents.

By now, the serial killer traits are well known: bed wetting, fire starting, and torturing small animals. But Douglas makes it clear that in every case, it's the child's upbringing that so horribly warps them to a life of murder. There are no strong role models to stop these children from turning into monsters; indeed, when children fall into the cracks, serial killers are what sometimes crawl out of them.

Unfortunately, exactly how Douglas comes to his conclusions is a lot like magic. Despite all of his attempts to legitimize what he does, his efforts amount to "and then magic happens!" Then Douglas comes up with a startling accurate profile. He never lets us know when he's wrong. That's a minor quibble with a book that I couldn't put down.

Mindhunter is as much a cautionary tale as it is a woeful biography of Douglas' life. Only one of the victims actually manages to turn the tables on their assailant. And in just about every other case, the killers were on murder sprees that lasted years with dozens of victims. As Douglas puts it, "sometimes the dragon wins."

As an author, this book gave me a host of ideas on how the good guys and the bad guys work. As a citizen of the United States, it gave me a new appreciation for the FBI. As a husband, it gave me a healthy regard for the mentally disturbed. A must read for anyone who wants to understand how to spot the dragons before they hatch.

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Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events

I've never read any of the Lemony Snicket series of books, but the basic plot appealed to me far more than the Harry Potter series, if only because it seemed more fresh than the recycled Arthurian-mythos-as-children's tale. My wife and I dragged our 10-year-old nephew to see it with us as our "beard" so people wouldn't wonder if we were some kind of freaks. Not that this stopped us from seeing the Power Puff Girls movie, but I digress.

The movie begins with an animated short titled "The Littlest Elf." I thought for a moment I was back watching the beginning of the Incredibles with that awful "Bound, bound, bound and rebound" Jackelope idiot. Fortunately, the movie's narrator, Lemony Snicket (Jude Law), immediately sets things straight. This is not a movie about a happy little elf. It is a movie about dreadful things happening to good people. He encourages us to leave the "theater, living room, or airplane" if we do not want to witness such things.

I haven't seen a movie actually tell me to leave in a long time. The reverse psychology works, of course-we did not come to see the Baudelaire children ride off into the sunset. We came to watch them be challenged and rise above those challenges.

To whit, a fire has recently orphaned three wealthy Baudelaire children: 14-year-old Violet (Emily Browning), 12-year-old (?) Klaus (Liam Aiken), and their baby sister Sunny (played by Kara or Shelby Hoffman, twins). Each child has a special power that they use to survive.

The movie is something of a cross between League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, The Adams Family, and the A-Team. For Violet, her "super power" is the ability to invent things on the fly. For Klaus, it's his photographic memory and vast knowledge from reading thousands of books. And Sunny? Well, Sunny can bite through practically anything. A Mini-Jaws, if you will.

The Hoffman twins play Sunny with a...well, sunny disposition. Sunny never seems to get too upset by her situation, as if she knows the joke's on the adults. Sunny doesn't quite speak, but does make a lot of cooing sounds that are essentially gibberish. Fortunately for the viewers, we are treated to subtitles of what she's really saying-this clever device keeps the adults amused and often provides levity about what are sometimes decidedly grim situations.

Aiken is suitably dour and introverted. Klaus is the voice of reason, the person who starts screaming "this is insane!" when everyone else seems to be going along with the madness. He's primarily there as a foil for Violet, and in that respect, he does a workman-like job.

Browning is the true star of the show. With her full-lipped pout and wide eyes, she's a teen version of Angelina Jolie. Violet witnesses some horrible things and finds herself in awful situations, and it's a credit to Browning that she reacts in a believable fashion without whining or preaching. She rapidly becomes the adult of the family, and it's easy to forget that she's only 14.

The children are adopted by their new guardian, Count Olaf (Jim Carey). In general, I'm leery of Jim Carey in franchise movies. I loved him in Mask, hated him as the Riddler in the Batman series, and absolutely loathed him as the Grinch. What surprised me is just how perfectly matched Carey is for the part of Olaf. Olaf is an actor, you see, and when his overt attempts to snatch the children's inheritance fail, he switches to more insidious roles by creating different personalities. Olaf, backed by his acting troupe of misfits, oozes his way into each new guardian's life and ultimately offs them so he can bring the three orphans back into his clutches.

All the annoying Carey-traits are perfectly pitched here, as Olaf lies, sneers, chatters, and calls Sunny a little monkey. He's so eccentric he can't help himself, except when he is in disguise. When he's undercover, Olaf disappears and new characters emerge-characters the children can immediately identify as being frauds. The problem is that the adults are all oblivious to Olaf's scheming, which makes the plight of the children that much more desperate.

Olaf could easily become a harmless caricature, but his deeds speak for themselves. He abandons the children on railroad tracks. He gives them impossible demands. And at one point, he SLAPS Klaus. Once that happened, I started paying attention. Olaf is cartoony, yes, but he is definitely not harmless.

The other guardians are played by Meryl Streep as Aunt Josephine and Billy Connolly as Uncle Monte. Josephine is a neurotic mess, terrified of every appliance in her house, which ultimately turns out to be just as deadly as she warned (shades of Final Destination). Monte is a herpetologist who has a fondness for all manner of reptiles and amphibians, including three-eyed toads and giant pythons.

The director (Brad Silberling) does an excellent job in marinating a child's perspective. Characters loom above us, lean into the camera, and at other times are distantly off screen, talking but not saying anything of importance. This is precisely how I remember adults as a child...big, scary, and sometimes not particularly helpful.

The movie's score is perfect and the visuals all evoke a dreamy, Tim Burton-esque quality, without the obvious trademarks that make it so Tim Burton-esque. This is a relief, because Burton's creepy/funny work has started to become a self-parody in its repetitiveness (Big Fish being a big exception).

My nephew liked the movie a lot. Although it condensed three of the books, he said the movie removed a lot of parts that weren't very exciting. The ending is suitably climactic and uplifting, hinting at a long series that will hopefully live long enough to see the final end of Count Olaf.

This movie is not for everybody. But then, if you're a little quirky and have a tendency to think the worst of people, it may be just the palliative for you.

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Blade: Trinity

I didn't have high hopes for Blade: Trinity.

I loved the original Blade movie. It was innovative, stylish, and had an African-American half-vampire who took himself seriously. It was a serious comic book movie with an urban style about it. Watching it a few years later, the movie still holds up well. And the soundtrack really kicked it into high gear.

Blade II was an embarrassment. It had bad special effects (yes, I can tell when ninjas are entirely computer graphics), a lame rip-off of an Aliens plot, it killed off and then brought back a major character (BOO!), and most unforgivable of all...had wrestling moves.

Let me say that again: WRESTLING. MOVES.

The last time I saw a movie seriously incorporate wrestling moves into a film, it was Rowdy Roddy Piper spending way too much time pile driving the bad guy in They Live. It was ridiculous, but we expected nothing less from Roddy, 'cause, ya know, he's a wrestler.

When a villain climbs a sheer wall just to do a flying elbow to the throat of the hero, you can tell the director thinks his audience is made up of ten-year olds, confusing "comic book" with "kiddie fare." Thank you, Mr. Goyer, for giving Blade back his dignity. Of course, I just checked the Internet Movie Database and it looks like Goyer wrote the second movie too...

Anyway, Blade: Trinity injects a healthy dose of modern day skepticism into Blade's (Wesley Snipes) vampire hunting activities. When the vampires can't deal with Blade by killing him outright, they finally decide to manipulate the FBI and the news media by having one of their cronies sacrifice his life. In essence, Blade is tricked into killing a real human.

The result: he is treated like a serial killer by the public and by government agencies. But the vampires own them too, so it's not long before Blade is in seriously dire straits.

That's where the Nightstalkers come in, consisting primarily (but not exclusively) of Hannibal King (Ryan Reynolds) and Abigail Whistler (Jessica Biel). Reynolds is like a buffed up version of Jason Lee. He's funny, he's insecure, and he just won't shut up. Biel, who has always had an unearthly, elfin appearance, plays a wildcat that enjoys unleashing her inner rage on vampires while she listens to her iPod.

Snipes plays the straight man in this film, which is just as well, because Biel pouts in the background while Reynolds has a manic energy that steals every scene. By far the best acting kudos must go to the iPod, which is a major character unto itself. It provides various soundtracks, it dutifully stays out of sight when Abigail puts the ear buds in her ears (she listens to music while she kills vampires, ya see), and it gets way more camera time than any MP3 player should.

The music is perfectly pitched, harkening back to the original movie's dance club beats. The director has fun with the movie by adding little touches, like advertising a future human crony of the vampires (a "familiar") by flashing his wrist tattoo on screen for just a second. There's a great scene where our heroes run through a mall, and the relentless pounding beat is replaced by...Muzak. And of course, whenever Blade jumps ten stories out of a building, he hits the ground so hard that car alarms go off.

But there is a big, ugly flaw in this movie.

It isn't Danica Talos (Parker Posy), who plays her Acid Princess role to the hilt, complete with having difficulty talking around her fangs and wobbling in her high heels.

It isn't Jarko Grimwood (Paul Michael Levesque), a wrestler of all things, who is actually appropriately menacing, stupid, cowardly, and violent.

It's Dracula. Oh, I'm sorry. In this movie they call him Drake (Dominic Purcell).

The movie takes great pains to separate itself from the image of Dracula, but by doing so robs itself of the entire point of having Dracula in a movie-so you know all about the original Hollywood vampire.

Purcell is a monster all right, in a smarmy Euro-trash sort of way. His penetrating gaze and his massive neck are entirely out of place with the ancestral being he's supposed to be. Purcell can't pull off the long dialogue scenes he has with Blade convincingly. Drake speaks in slow, menacing tones and he really hates the commercialization of Dracula. Which is ironic, because Dracula would probably really hate his portrayal in this movie.

By the end of the film, the climactic battle looks and feels a lot like Highlander than a vampire movie. We needed an elegant yet malevolent villain, not an overbearing thug-that's what Levesque is for.

Lurking somewhere in the background is a lame plot about a genetic virus that will kill all vampires "in the vicinity." And a little girl and a cute baby are endangered. And Danica and Hannibal have this hate/hate thing going back when he was a vampire. It's complicated.

And yet, I really enjoyed this movie. I laughed at most of King's lines. Even when his jokes fall flat, King knows they fall flat, and adds such self-effacing humor as, "I'm sorry, I had a lot of sugar today" or "he doesn't like me very much."

Ultimately, the real joke here is that very concept of vampires is ridiculous. Every vampire looks like a refugee from Stick Model Camp and acts like it, rolling their eyes, harrumphing in their pretty vampire way, or flexing and snarling at just the right moments. How can we possibly take them seriously? They're like, one step above zombies for sheer comedy!

Of course, the subtle humor will not sit well with vampire fans that think vampires should be cool. The movie comes down pretty firmly on the side of the good guys: the good guys look cool and the vampires look like bumbling idiots. Let there be no doubt, Goyer's having some fun at his own expense and mocking the vampire genre.

I mean, seriously, this movie has vampire dogs.

For that alone, it gets four stars.

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Reservoir Dogs

When I saw Pulp Fiction, I walked out of the movie theater agog. I had witnessed a movie masterpiece that so proficiently weaved all of its elements together that it left me floored. I had never seen anything like it before.

Of course, I've since seen a lot more movies, including Tarantino's most recent Kill Bill series. Although flashes of brilliance are evident in his other films, Pulp Fiction was the maturation of themes he was clearly still tinkering with in Reservoir Dogs. But that does not diminish the tightly plotted beauty of Tarantino's first film.

Tarantino wisely created his film like he would a play, which forces more character interaction and less gun battles. Indeed, the actors must, you know, ACT and tell us the story that we don't see on screen. The movie also introduces the characters as complete strangers by giving each one a nickname. Thus, as they are strangers to each other, they are strangers to us.

These strangers have been assembled by Joe Cabot (Lawrence Tierney) to pull off a simple heist. The fatherly Mr. White (Harvey Keitel), the reserved Mr. Orange (Tim Roth), the coolly psychopathic Mr. Blonde (Michael Madsen), the calculating weasel known as Mr. Pink (Steve Buscemi), and two guys who die early in the movie, Mr. Brown (Quentin Tarantino in his usual cameo role) and Mr. Blue (Edward Bunker). This ragtag team of strangers are led by Joe Cabot's son, "Nice Guy" Eddie Cabot (Chris Penn), sporting a blue jumpsuit like any good Mob goomba would wear. All of the other thugs wear black suits and sunglasses to make them difficult to distinguish to witnesses.

We never see the actual bank heist, which is part of the fun. Instead, it is told through the eyes of the characters, both in dialogue and through flashbacks identifying each of their backgrounds. The twist is that the bank heist has gone horribly awry and thus our rainbow colored team must rendezvous at a warehouse. In play-like fashion, the majority of the conversations and action takes place in this one location.

But what went wrong? It doesn't take long for the calculating Mr. Pink (who hates his name), to determine that there's a rat amongst them, and it's not until the latter half of the film that the plot is revealed as to which character is an undercover cop. Thus the characters begin their own witch-hunt, struggling to determine whom they can and cannot trust.

Things are complicated by Mr. White's loyalty to Mr. Orange, who has been shot in the stomach. A thief with honor, Mr. White treats Mr. Orange like his child, and it's only through deleted scenes that we discover Mr. White has been horribly betrayed before. Indeed, this is the second attempt at a bank heist, the first having gone equally wrong. Mr. White thus feels at least partially responsible for the younger man's agony.

And how agonizing it is! Mr. Orange bleeds. And bleeds. And bleeds. Indeed, for most of the film, he bleeds, screams, or is unconscious. It is a tribute to Roth's acting ability that he makes it look so painful.

On the other side of the moral spectrum is Mr. Blonde, a killing machine. Having been imprisoned for years and never ratting on his employers, Mr. Blonde is alternately the ideal soldier and a terrifying thug, capable of the most brutal acts. Mr. Blonde vents his anger by taking a cop hostage, whom he graphically tortures off-screen-not to get the cop to reveal who the snitch is, but because "it's amusing, to me, to torture a cop." And after all that, the startling truth is the cop DOES know who the snitch is.

At heart, this movie is about honor, whether amongst thieves or cops. The "rat" kills people in his undercover role, as much a villain as he pretends to be. The stone-cold killer amongst the thieves is the most honorable, while the tortured cop is willing to die to protect the life of the snitch. And through it all, Mr. White does his level best to save Mr. Orange, a man he barely knows. The final twist in the end reveals who played who and in Shakespearean fashion leaves just about everybody dead. The twist isn't in the deaths as much as it is in the revelation: the honor between men who have risked their lives for each other and in doing so, willing place their lives in the other's hands.

The acting in the movie is superb. Keitel, who produced the movie, knew what he was getting into and is the star of the show. He expresses a full range here, from that of a sniggering thug to a fatherly protector to a weeping brother. Buscemi is calculating and freaked-out in his usual bug-eyed staccato-speak. Madsen is cool as ice and puts his cold-dead gaze to good use without over-emoting. When he dances to "Stuck in the Middle With You" as he tortures the cop, it's a devil's dance that is horrifying as it is cheesy.

Tarantino's voice comes through strongly in all of the dialogue, sometimes too strongly (in the interviews, he actually says he has a "God given gift for dialogue," which is a little too complimentary in my opinion). All the characters seem to elucidate and expound on everything at length in a way that sounds just like how Tarantino speaks. Fortunately, all the actors are up to the task-Buscemi can handle it easily, Keitel less so, and Madsen doesn't really need to speak at all (for an example of an actor having difficulty with Tarantino-speak, see Uma Thurman in Kill Bill). Still, the dialogue is engaging and amusing, and it established a distinct narrative voice that has marked all of Tarantino's films.

For all of Tarantino's genius in pulling this movie off as his entrance to cinema, the film loses some of its luster by failing to acknowledge its roots. The naming of characters by colors to keep their identities anonymous and the undercover cop twist was done first in the Taking of Pelham 1-2-3. But most egregiously, the movie has several shot-by-shot parallels with Chow Yun Fat's City on Fire. To be fair, George Lucas doesn't often admit any inspiration from Hidden Fortress or The Searchers...but the similarities between Reservoir Dogs and City on Fire are so close as to be outright criminal in not recognizing them.

With the advent of Reservoir Dogs, traditional cinema, with "thugs sitting around polishing their bullets" got a strong slap of pathos if not realism. While not technically as proficient as Pulp Fiction, it stands as a precursor of Tarantino's skill as a writer, director, and actor.

Okay maybe not as an actor.

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The Incredibles

In the vein of Mystery Men and Unbreakable, the Incredibles is about modern sensibilities applied to standard superhero tropes. In this case, it's the golden age of superheroes in the 1950s. The timing is critical, because the government informally backs the superheroes and attitudes shifted in the 60s to skepticism and outright distrust of Big Brother. Several things happen at once as the plot is set up: Mr. Incredible (voice with kindness and strength by Craig T. Nelson) repeatedly rebuffs the preteen president of his fan club (Buddy Pine, voiced to perfection by Jason Lee), makes a date with his wife-to-be (Elastigirl, voiced by Holly Hunter's soft Midwestern purr), and saves a man who was trying to commit suicide.

All in a day's work, right?

Well, times change on the superheroes, but they don't change with them. The person he saved sues Mr. Incredible. The insanity of a man trying to commit suicide by plunging to his death and then suing a person who saved him from himself is an apt parallel for the madness of frivolous lawsuits. Soon, every superhero is being sued and the general populace doesn't WANT to be saved anymore.

So the government packs them all off to relocation programs, and suddenly the superhero personas are inversed. Their daily personalities are the masks they wear at work, while their superhero personalities are unspoken, dark secrets.

Fast forward to years later (late 60s maybe?). Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl now have three children: Violet (Sarah Vowell), a teen with the power of invisibility and force fields, Dash (Spencer Fox), a precocious preteen who can run at lightning speed, and the baby Jack-Jack (Eli Fucile) who...doesn't have any powers.

The family exhibits all the behavior of a normal American family - or at least, the normal family we wish we all had. Mr. Incredible, as Bob Parr, is frustrated by his insurance job and the inability to actually help people. As a superhero he seemed larger than life; as a working slob, he literally bursts from his tiny cube and can barely fit in his stuttering car. And of course, he has an irritating speck of a boss named Gilbert Huph (a character Wallace Shawn voices to irritating perfection) who harasses Bob at every turn for helping customers, not shareholders.

Bob's wife, Helen Parr/Elastigirl, has a different set of problems. She struggles to help her incredible children blend in a mediocre world. Dash acts out because he can't join any sports. Violet struggles to be noticed but hides in plain sight behind her hair. And of course, the two of them fight like crazy.

And thus Pixar has perfectly captured the American family tropes. How many parents have boys who they just wish would tire out? How many teenage girls wish they were invisible? What mother hasn't felt stretched in all directions? And every cubicle dweller (guilty as charged!) finds a Matrix-like connection with Bob, trapped by the most diabolical villain of all: real life.

Bob hangs out with his buddy, the very cool Lucius Best, AKA Frozone (Samuel Jackson) in a role as an African-American hero who has also been retired. The contrast between this role and Jackson as villain in Untouchables should amuse fans of both films. In the evenings, these two guys lie to their wives and go fight crime. It's the only thing that makes them feel alive.

Eventually, Bob's flirt with the dangerous life comes to a climax when he's finally had enough of his job. He takes on freelance work and finds a new zest for life. He loses weight, he starts wearing suits to work, he buys a new car, and he keeps Ms. Parr very happy. In other words, Bob acts like he's having an affair.

And in some sense he is. Mr. Incredible is doing what makes him feel young again. That there does happen to be a beautiful woman (Mirage, voiced by Elizabeth Pena) who lures him into that lifestyle only makes the indiscretion all the more riveting. When Bob disappears on one of his missions, it's up to the family to rescue him.

Throughout, there are a variety of threads that tweak the superhero genre. Edna Mode, voiced by Brad Bird, is the Dr. Ruth of superhero fashion designers. She repeatedly demonstrates the liabilities of wearing a cloak and opines about the challenges of crafting a superhero's costume. Superheroes are disappearing, literally, for reasons that become apparent later. And the government gets tired of keeping their heroes quiet. Indeed, there's a hint of Vietnam in the ambivalent relationship between the former superheroes and their keepers.

What's amazing about this film is the depth of the characters. By now it's expected that each animated personality will perfectly embody the mannerisms of the actors who play them. Syndrome is a masterful interpretation of the actor who voices him, with every mannerism and sideways glance. Only James Woods' Hades in Disney's Hercules comes close. Elastigirl manages to come across as strong, vulnerable, protective, fiery, and even playfully kittenish - Hunter has her down pat. Elastigirl, a stay at home mom mind you, has made such an impression that there are several threads discussing her on the Internet. No seriously, go check and you'll see what I mean.

Equally as important is the relationship between the characters. Elastigirl inadvertently flies her children into danger and then desperately struggles to keep them alive and calm. Violet worries about being grown up enough while Dash freaks out over - and then just as quickly embraces - fighting bad guys who want to kill them. Mr. Incredible's mettle is repeatedly tested and by overcoming each challenge we understand that he is a genuinely good, if frustrated, father and husband.

All throughout, the movie never stops taking itself seriously. Elastigirl tells her children to use their powers to save themselves and that the bad guys WILL kill them. Bad guys do not conveniently hop out of their aircraft, but rather go up in flames. That's right, they die. And there is a lot of tension (the good kind) between Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl, early in their relationship and even years later. They love each other, like each other, and sometimes piss each other off, just like a married couple.

The part that made me laugh out loud the most involved Mr. Incredible and Elastigirl, arguing over directions as they drive a battered RV through city streets on the way to battle a super menace. The kids whine "are we there yet?" Elastigirl shouts, "take the exit!" Mr. Incredible shouts that he thinks he knows a faster way. And for a brief second, despite the fact that the entire family is wearing bright red costumes and possesses superpowers, we understand that this is YOUR family, shouting, arguing, and loving each other.

With the advent of The Incredibles, it has become apparent that the last haven of quality filmmaking is to be found not in cable television, but in animation. Pixar consistently creates compelling stories that teach as well as entertain. Whether it's the joys and fears of fatherhood ("Finding Nemo"), the fear of children outgrowing their parents ("Toy Story"), or the pressures of being a creative person in a regimented world ("A Bug's Life"), Pixar has consistently demonstrated that they understand our greatest hopes and our worst fears. The Incredibles is Pixar at the top of their game and should not be missed by anyone who loves superheroes...or has a family.

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Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance II

Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance II is a curious name. It's like calling a movie Part Two: The Sequel. Dark Alliance was a chapter in Baldur's Gate's history and this game continues what was started in the first, including many of the same characters and voice talent.

To wit, all the efforts in the first game to prevent the teleporting Onyx Towers from falling into the wrong hands was for naught. Mordoc Selanmere (a vampire) has located the towers on the Shadow Plane and manipulates both the Harpers and the Zhentarim into bringing it to the Prime Material Plane so he can teleport right into Baldur's Gate itself and turn all the citizens into shambling undead.

Our three heroes from the first game (the elven sorceress, the human archer, and the dwarf) have been captured and apparently are in for a long torture session. Meanwhile, five new heroes are recruited to the cause:

* Borador Goldhand: a dwarven treasure-hunter
* Alessia Faithammer: an aasimar cleric
* Vhaidra Uoswiir: a drow monk
* Ysuran Auondril: an elven necromancer,
* Dorn Redbear: a human barbarian.

My wife chose Vhaidra and I played Ysuran, because they were the most interesting characters. I mean, come on, Dorn Redbear sounds like a Klingon.

Vhaidra is known mostly for her sarcastic comments and the inability to walk without crouching like Elmer Fudd. Ysuran is identified mostly by his bare nipples, which he seems to have a pathological need to display at all times. It must be a necromancer thing.

The heroes must journey from place to place to retrieve certain items at the behest of various employers, whom ultimately all happen to be connected. The same merchant sells and buys all things with the same annoying and repetitive banter. The twist is that finding masterwork equipment and then augmenting them with gems can improve items. In this way, you can end up with an Exceptional Helmet of Viper's Quickness.

Also new to the Baldur's Gate games is the notion of prestige classes. After reaching 20th level and doing enough research about their past (which always costs gold, of course), the characters can join prestige classes. Ysuran's can join Shadow Adept and Vhaidra can join Assassin. These classes give you new nifty abilities. The only problem is that by the time you're 20th level, these abilities are marginally more effective at best.

The Baldur's Gate series uses a simplified version of the Dungeons & Dragons game system to good effect. All spells, feats, and class powers have been turned into feats. At each level, characters start with a certain number of points in certain feats. For example, Vhaidra starts with 1 dot in Armor Proficiency, Sprint, and Unarmed Combat. One dot in Armor Proficiency means she can only wear light armor, like leather armor. Role-players, look in horror upon that which is possibly Dungeons and Dragons 4.0!

We played the game on Medium difficulty, which was probably a mistake. Ysuran is capable of surviving just fine by himself, because of Skelly.

What, you don't know who Skelly is? Why, he's the skeleton that arises from Ysuran's Animate Dead spell. Unfortunately, Ysuran doesn't really animate any dead-Skelly just rises out of the ground and does not require any actual corpses to create him. Another missed opportunity for gaming coolness.

The world hates Skelly, but he doesn't seem to care. Every monster in the game has an inexplicable desire to kill Skelly (again), but Skelly just whacks away at them with his bare fists. Fortunately, Ysuran's protection spells extend both to his undead as well. Which really makes them unstoppable. There were a few situations wherein the boss monster killed Vhaidra and Ysuran prevailed with just Skelly and the Life Drain spell.

If Skelly makes the game less challenging, the Life Drain spell makes it a cakewalk. In essence, Life Drain inflicts damage and heals Ysuran. However, Life Drain doesn't require any targeting-Ysuran merely needs to point in the direction of his victim and red darts of energy flow out of his foes towards him. Yes, I ate several cookies while Ysuran sucked up the souls of his enemies like a Shop-Vac.

Because you can craft magic items, things quickly get out of hand. With enough money, Ysuran had a +4 helmet that protected him from 15 percent of fire, cold, and acid damage. And then because he was such a wuss, I gave him a ring that gave him a +4 bonus to Strength so he could carry all the crap Skelly found.

There were some challenges, like the Elemental Plane of Air, where Skelly and Ysuran often fell to their doom. Although really, how long did it take for them to hit "doom"? It's all Air, right?

Dark Alliance II seems to be dumbed down a bit. There are no longer ammunition limits, so ranged weapons effectively fire forever. Stocking up on arrows kept the archer in the first game in check. Here, it's all bolts, all the time.

The graphics are more or less the same, although my wife appreciated the fact that most of the main characters didn't seem modeled after certain movie stars (remember the bartender of the Elfsong Tavern, Lady Alyth?). And no, you can't strip down the drow chick to her underwear like you could with Adrianna in the first game.

For reasons I cannot comprehend, the map function was moved to the touch pad instead of pushing down on the stick. Since spells are up and down on the touch pad and the map requires pressing to the left (right switches from ranged weapon to two-handed weapon to one-handed weapons), more often than not I brought the map up in the middle of a combat. Please guys, if ain't broke, don't fix it!

Baldur's Gate II is an inferior sequel that offers more of the same, only easier. It's probably more entertaining in a single-player game, but it was definitely not balanced for two players. Restricting the necromancer to a single-player might have been a good start.

Although I feel obligated to tell you that Skelly thinks that's a stupid idea.

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Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow, like Van Helsing, is a pulp film. The important twist is that it's a science fiction pulp film, which has long since fallen out of favor in an era of special effects and complicated scientific explanations. In sci-fi pulp, giant robots look like wind-up toys (actually, wind-up toys were supposed to look like giant robots), ray guns go "PEW! PEW!" and advanced technology doesn't require a lot of explaining. In pulp, there's non-stop action, the heroes are ridiculously well rounded, and a World War looms around the corner.

And oh yeah, dinosaurs. You can't forget the dinosaurs.

Sky Captain begins with the majestic view of a gigantic dirigible docking with the Empire State Building, and we know immediately that this is not the 1930s pre-World War II movie we're accustomed to. It is literally the World of Tomorrow, the kind featured at World's Fairs-utterly unrealistic and colored by the biases of the time. Thus, instead of planes ruling the air, we have massive blimps. Indeed, the zeppelin we see is titled "Hindenburg III." Presumably, the Hindenburg disaster did not take place in this future. This is the retro-futuristic era of the recent Batman cartoon and The Rocketeer, where dirigibles also rule the skies.

Polly Perkins (Gwyneth Paltrow), an intrepid reporter who always gets her story. She's like the Lois Lane of the 1930s. She receives a desperate message from a hunted scientist. The inimitable Dr. Totenkopf, played by none other than Laurence Olivier, is chasing him. Yes, THAT Laurence Olivier. The fact that the few scenes of the "bad guy" are actually digitally inserted footage of a man who has been dead for 15 years carries a certain resonance, given the inevitable plot twist at the end of the movie.

As Polly struggles to unveil the mystery of just who Totenkopf is, she meets her mysterious contact at Radio City Music Hall. What's playing? The Wizard of Oz, of course (another plot hint). And then just as this movie appears to be a film-noir rather than a pulp action film...

GIANT ROBOTS ATTACK!

That's right. Giant frickin' robots. I haven't enjoyed giant robots this much since the Iron Giant. They drop from the skies a fashion similar to the villains from the old Superman cartoons. Or, if you've never seen those, the animated footage used to demonstrate the potential of flying Nazi invaders in The Rocketeer. Their single eye is Gort-like (from the Day the Earth Stood Still), vaporizing the ineffectual police who fire at the five-story robots with their pistols. And yes, the eye rays make the PEW-PEW-PEW sound.

Enter our hero, the Sky Captain, Joe Sullivan (Jude Law). Apparently, zeppelins didn't completely overtake the skies because Sky Captain flies a fighter plane that's a bit like a James Bond vehicle. It can shoot missiles, whip around corners with grappling hooks (a nod to Batman), fly underwater, and drop magnetic bombs. Joe, in traditional pulp fashion, is absurdly well rounded: he is an incredible shot, a fantastic pilot, and is well versed in ancient astronomy.

But what do the robots want? They want our generators, our fuel supplies, and two samples of every living being on the planet. Why? Well, for the World of Tomorrow of course.

The plot gradually unfolds as the rocky relationship between Polly and Joe is revealed. Joe accuses her of sabotaging his plane, Polly accuses him of fooling around. They have a love/hate relationship that ranges from comedic to sincere. The two agree to team up after a mysterious female assassin (who shoots rays out of her hands and can leap file cabinets in a single bound) kills the remaining scientist.

Back at his not-so-secret base, Joe plots how to track the robot attackers to their home base with his resident Q-character, Dex Dearborn (Giovanni Ribisi). Dex manages to invent a gun that makes PEW-PEW-PEW sounds; it has a fin on top and everything, as if it were right out of a Flash Gordon movie. Then, while Polly and Joe discuss their next plans...

GIANT ROBOTS ATTACK!

Dex is captured, but not before leaving behind a clue as to the whereabouts of the robots home base. Joe and Polly fly off on a whirlwind adventure that will take them to Shangri-La, underwater, and to an island filled with dinosaurs. Giant frickin' dinosaurs!

The entire film is shot through a fuzzy, washed out lens that gives it the feel of an old movie or a pulp comic book. Architecture is art deco. The robots are strange, one-eyed impractical things with joints in all the wrong places, just like the covers of a thousand science fiction novels. And all of it is done through the miracle of CGI.

There's not too much for the characters to say, because this is a pulp film after all. Polly's there primarily to look pretty and occasionally punch a bad guy (or good guy) in the face. Joe swaggers and shoots things. And Dex is the anointed spouter of pseudoscientific mumbo jumbo.

Despite the special effects, Sky Captain retains its sense of humor. And whenever things get boring...

GIANT ROBOTS ATTACK!

This is a true rollicking retro sci-fi pulp film, in the tradition of The Rocketeer, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, Van Helsing, and The Iron Giant. Fans of older science fiction films will thoroughly enjoy themselves. Everyone else will probably just get a headache.

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Brazil

In Corporate America, screenshots of Brazil are great ways to make jokes about work. So I got the impression that Brazil was some sort of Corporate nightmare. Having seen the movie, I realize now that my original perceptions were only the tip of the iceberg.

The plot begins with a TV show of a kindly white-haired gentlemen talking about ducts and the loss of freedom of its citizens, government intervention, the quest for terrorists (the term "terrorist" is used often throughout the film) and the cost of all this information paranoia in the quest for a few individuals. The intro alone makes the film very relevant to America audiences and establishes that European countries have had to deal with the threat of terrorism long before tragedy struck the U.S.

The plot follows Sam Lowry (Jonathan Pryce), a programmer who actually knows how to program in a bureaucracy at the Ministry of Information (MOI), a monolithic governmental entity that has long since outlived its usefulness. Here, hundreds of clerks dodge in and out like cockroaches amongst papers and filing cabinets without actually doing any work; they immediately stop what they're doing whenever the boss goes back into his office. Here, teeming flocks of men in suits follow decision-makers in concrete hallways. Here, a wall divides a room to make for two offices, only the desk straddles the middle. And computers? Nobody really knows how to use them.

Sam eventually becomes entangled with the meta-plot: the search for a terrorist named Harry Tuttle (Robert DeNiro). The problem, however, is that the teletype machine entering Tuttle's name on the wanted list gets a bug-literally, a bug falls into the machine-and causes it to mistype "t" as "b". Thus, Harry Buttle (Brian Miller) is apprehended instead. Why is the MOI looking for Tuttle? Well, because he fixes ductwork without filling out any papers.

In the Brazil universe, ductwork is everywhere. Like the innards of some gigantic beast, they sprawl here and there, in every part of every person's home. They are plugged up in walls, tucked away in floors, and hang intestine-like from ceilings. They regulate everything from temperature to mail and getting them fixed is nigh impossible, given the amount of paperwork involved. However, the grappling-hook firing Tuttle achieves just that when Sam's cramped apartment needs emergency ductwork.

Throughout this drab existence is Sam's dream-life, as he flies with mechanical wings (Icarus?) towards a floating nymph-like woman wrapped in gauze. Unfortunately for Lowry, she has a nymph-like counterpart named Jill Layton (Kim Greist), who also happens to be the upstairs neighbor of the equally unfortunate Mr. Buttle.

Because terrorists are charged for their own interrogation by the Department of Information Retrieval (the DOIR, who specialize in torture), Buttle's death means Mrs. Buttle (Sheila Reid) is owed a refund. The catastrophic consequences of such an error convulse the entire MOI, but Sam sensibly decides to just deliver the refund check in person. Sam meets Jill when attempting to fix the typographical error.

It all goes downhill from there. Sam becomes fixated on Jill, such that he is willing to be promoted by his rich mother (Katherine Helmond, my fellow alumni from Dowling College) to the DOIR. Sam's behavior becomes increasingly erratic until it gets him in real trouble. The movie ends with a suitably frightening twist.

There is a lot to absorb from Brazil. A science fiction classic, it has the familiar hallmarks of a sprawling corporation gone mad (Robocop), the pervasive government in a quest to destroy threats to authority (1984, Equilibrium), and the horrors of urban sprawl (Judge Dredd). This jaded cynicism about society is rife throughout the movie, from the wicked children who set cars on fire to the awful "yes/no" gift that everyone gets everyone else for Christmas. Indeed, the whole movie takes place in one long Christmas; the holiday never seems to end, but at the same time only manages to make life in Brazil that much more pathetic. Even at a time when we expect the world to be a better place, Brazil merely covers it with tinsel.

The director (Terry Gilliam) has an amusing sense of humor, no doubt inherited from his Monty Python days. At first, the movie seems to be a light-hearted jab at our own foibles, as we watch Sam stumble his way through life. But to his credit, Gilliam never shies away from his message. When terrorists attack a high-class restaurant, the waiters merely move a screen in front of the carnage so as to not offend the wealthier guests. And yet people moan in pain, blood spatters the floor, and hands reach out for help.

When Sam is faced with the awful circumstances of Mr. Buttle's death, he backpedals with a barrage of excuses of how it's not his fault. Once he sees Jill, he forgets that he just delivered a reimbursement check to a grieving family over a clerical error and the audience forgets too. As he dashes into the street, he loses sight of Jill, only to be given her name by a little girl. He asks her what she's doing in the street.

"Waiting for my daddy to come home," she whispers.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be along soon," says Sam, only to pause in shock as he realizes he was speaking to Buttle's daughter.

Brazil is like that. I found myself in mid-laugh at one moment, only to cover my mouth in shame at the next awful event. Sam's old friend Jack Lint (Michael Palin), a veteran of the DOIR, conducts torture in another room mere feet away from where his daughter plays with her dolls. A big-haired receptionist comically records all of the tortured confessions. Is it funny? Macabre? Vile?

Brazil serves best as a dire parable about the dangers of giving up too much freedom in the hunt for terrorism, a lesson our British friends have learned well. For that reason alone, any American interested in politics or science fiction should see this film.

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Romeo Must Die

Tell me if you've heard this one from Joel Silver: a martial artist, a singer, and a comedian walk into a movie.

The punch line: Romeo Must Die.

Romeo Must Die is a slickly produced, big budget action flick that revolves around a gang war between two crime families, led by the African-American Isaak O'Day (Delroy Lindo) and the Chinese Ch'u Sing (Henry O). They are engulfed in a battle over the sale of Oakland-San Francisco waterfront property, the future location of an NFL stadium. Oozing all over the deal as The White Man is Vincent Roth (Edoardo Ballerini) who embodies greed in a corporate suit.

Isaak has a plan to stop his life of crime after the sale, but his second-in-command, Mac (Isaiah Washington), has other plans. Ch'u has his own lieutenant, Kai (Russell Wong), who doesn't seem to do much but wear sunglasses until the end of the movie.

As a result of all the skullduggery, things don't go as planned. Ch'u son (Po Sing, played by Jonkit Lee) is murdered, setting off what seems like a retaliatory strike against Isaak's son, Colin (D.B. Woodside). Word of the murder reaches Han Sing (Jet Li) in prison, who immediately breaks out and flies halfway around the world to avenge his brother's death.

There, he meets Isaak's daughter, the gorgeous Trish O'Day (Aaliyah). After Han steals a taxi and barges into Trish's house, the two decide to work together to discover who's really behind the murders. Why Trish should trust Han so quickly, given that he is the son of a rival gang leader, is never made clear.

Even more inconceivable is the supposed relationship that exists between the two. That's right folks, Li is supposed to be Romeo and Aaliyah is his Juliet. The two never even kiss. Somewhere, Will Shakespeare is spinning in his grave. With the high death toll, Romeo must Die has a lot more to do with Hamlet than Romeo and Juliet.

This movie is so grossly enthusiastic about its violent content that it actually has special effects to demonstrate how people die. In other words, instead of indicating that an arm has been broken by a loud crack, the movie shifts to an x-ray vision view of the victim's body, showing the bone break. It's like Speak n' Spell for action films, explaining in precise detail the damage inflicted just in case you didn't figure out how the bad guy died. This is alternately amusing and pathetic - now we have to dumb down our action movies too?

Li (the martial artist) has some amazing action sequences, including the most creative use of a fire hose and zip lock ties. When he's fighting, Li is in his natural element. When he's speaking...he's not. The considerably more handsome and understandable Wong should have had the lead role.

Aaliyah's (the singer) presence is breathtaking, but she has very little to do in the movie. Mostly, she complains about her father's criminal activities. Although Aaliyah's music floats in the background of most of the scenes, all evidence of her musical talent is subsumed under two extremely contrived dance moves. Worse, Aaliyah's dancing sucks.

Let us not forget about the comedian, Maurice (Anthony Anderson). Big and loud, Maurice is the bodyguard assigned to Trish. He's also a non-stop laugh machine, churning out joke after joke, sometimes mumbling punch lines that only he gets.

The movie's lack of romance, despite the title, is forgivable. The attempt at a plot (and the inevitable twist) is high-minded if misguided. But what makes this movie almost unwatchable is the rampant racist remarks.

The taxi that Han eventually steals is driven by "Akbar," an Indian man. Everyone calls Han "Akbar" with a sneer, because clearly that's a name for Indian people who drive taxis, not Chinese guys driving taxis. Then Han is called "Dim Sung," after he pretends to be a Chinese food delivery guy. The blacks have rhythm, swear a lot, and break out into random dance moves. The Chinese are unfailingly polite, grieve in private, and all know martial arts (a trait Han says, with a smirk, is "state law"). And the white guy is a corporate suit, with slicked back hair and his own crony.

Ever since the success of Exit Wounds, starring DMX (who made a guest appearance in this film) and Steven Seagal, Joel Silver has been trying to create more cross genre pictures of this type to attract the hip-hop and martial art crowds. Romeo Must Die simply doesn't have the guts to go all the way with its romance, with its plot, or by breaking any stereotypes.

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Dog Soldiers

Having read other reviews of Dog Soldiers and watched segments of the movie on the Sci-Fi channel, I didn't have much hope for this movie. But I was doing research for a book, so I figured it was worth a shot. I was pleasantly surprised.

A lot of parallels are made between Dog Soldiers and Aliens and Predator. To be more specific, the movie is often touted as "Aliens with werewolves." The assessment is accurate, but not for the reasons you might think.

Yes, technically Dog Soldiers is a horror movie. But Aliens helped invent the hybrid action/horror movie ("haction"?). It is very much a war against enemies on their home terrain, echoing Vietnam and now the war in Iraq. The bad guys are everywhere, they know the terrain better than us, and they strike from nowhere, only to disappear into the darkness. But it's important to note that all three movies are about soldiers first, the bad guys second. The monsters are worthy adversaries to be sure, with unique biologies. But it's a war movie that happens to have monsters in it. The Marines of Aliens and Dutch's soldiers are very much like modern day warriors. The poor saps caught in Dog Soldiers are no different.

Okay, they're a little different in that they are distinctly not American. This is one of those movies, like 28 Days Later (which it has a lot more in common), that blithely ignores the U.S.-centric perspective. The grunts are decidedly British, talk in their own slang, mumble their own jokes, and act like...well, British soldiers. This is a turnoff for some Americans, but I was able to mitigate the language barrier (that's a joke, kids) through judicious use of close captioning.

The story begins with our hero, Private Cooper (Kevin McKidd), trying out for Special Forces under the stern tutelage of Captain Ryan (Liam Cunningham). Although he manages to take out four men with just a flashlight, he fails to pass the final test - shooting an innocent dog in the head. Why? We find out soon enough.

Kicked back into the grunts with everyone else, Cooper traipses through Scotland on a training exercise. The Scottish wilderness seems a lot like the Blair Woods from Blair Witch Project - impossibly large and isolated. It's the perfect setting for troops to train, or to bait werewolves.

As it turns out, the grunts are the bait for the Special Forces team who is out to capture a werewolf. The only problem is that werewolves run in packs and the Special Forces team is decimated by a surprise attack. That leaves the grunts, led by Sergeant Harry G. Wells (Sean Pertwee). The troops joke, they talk about football (uh, soccer, sorry), and they just want to go home. They're not so much heroes as kids out in the forest who, given different choices, might never have joined the military. These guys aren't killing machines, they're just regular Joes.

Their leader, Wells, is an affable man who has a surprising tolerance for stupidity. Call it my American sensibilities - when one of the squad forgets his watch, I expect a full public dress-down, American drill sergeant style. Instead, Wells gives the lad his own watch with the lightest of tongue-lashings. Wells cares about his men, first and foremost, and knows full well that war sucks and his team is the unfortunate recipient of a lot of bad decisions.

This is most evident when the man talk about what they fear the most. While the grunts joke about this and that, Wells portrays a gruesome death of his own squad mates. This isn't a camping trip, even though it is a training exercise, and Wells knows it.

The werewolves eventually show up in all their glory, although the director (Neil Marshall) has enough sense not to show them most of the time. Marshall sticks with werewolf standbys - they're essentially invulnerable to normal weapons, turn into wolf-like humanoids at the full moon, and spread their contagion with tooth and claw.

Because there's no CGI in this movie, the werewolves are very realistic. While at times they look like guys in gorilla suits, they are hulking beasts - the prosthetics that the stuntmen wore increased their height to nearly eight feet - and have a terrifying on-screen presence you can't get with CGI (unlike, say, American Werewolf in Paris). These things aren't just werewolves, they're GIANT FRICKIN' WEREWOLVES.

It doesn't take long before the soldiers are in trouble and Wells gets gutted in disgusting detail. Fortunately, they come across a suspiciously friendly zoologist, Megan (Emma Cleasby), who takes them to an isolated house where the troops make their last stand.

The troops act in realistic and organized fashion, but slowly but surely run out of options. Then they start acting like normal people, freaking out and doing whatever they have to in order to survive. In their darkest hour, each character shows his heroic traits as they fight to the end.

The acting is excellent, once you get past the high-speed, heavily accented dialogue. The plot is filled with alternate humor and desperation. Most importantly, the writing is very tight - every strange coincidence is explained. Marshall achieves this cohesiveness by keeping the movie tightly focused, which helps reinforce the claustrophobia of the werewolves outside the house.

Although it is not a pure horror movie, Dog Soldiers is one of the best (if not the best) werewolf movies to date, although that not may be saying much given the sheer amount of garbage that passes for werewolf films.

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The Village

The Village is M. Night Shyamalan's latest movie that, by now, has become something of a shtick - there's always a twist at the end. At some point Night's going to get tired of all this and, like Sam Raimi, will hopefully go on to produce some really great movies that do not have to have a surprising ending. Unfortunately, it seems Night's success has now pigeonholed him and with The Village, the cracks are starting to show.

I appreciate a good surprise twist, but I'm not that easy to fool. I figured out who the real suspect was in The Usual Suspects. The Blair With Project and Fargo did not fool me into thinking they were true stories. But one of the few movies that really did surprise me with the ending was the Sixth Sense, so I gave Night the benefit of the doubt. I loved Unbreakable and liked Signs.

In all three cases, what was great about Night's movies is that they take time to focus on characters. People live their daily lives and then a supernatural element is injected into it. Even better, each plot is easy to summarize in a sentence. I imagine this comes in handy when pitching it to movie studios. For example:

Sixth Sense: Ghosts.
Unbreakable: Superheroes.
Signs: Aliens.

And The Village? "Little Red Riding Hood"

Or rather, "Little Yellow Riding Hood." The movie begins in 1897, focusing on a sleepy Amish-like town where a child has just died. Everyone dresses in black, white, brown, and gray and talks very, very slowly. Nobody uses conjunctions - it's all "You can not," never "You can't."

The characters live out their lives on the screen. Ivy Walker (Bryce Dallas Howard, the strikingly beautiful progeny of Ron Howard, who can actually act) is a blind girl in a man's world. She is fearless, in a town that brooks no violence and that is isolated from the rest of the civilization. It is Ivy's blindness and the repetition of the town's activities that sets her free, allowing her to roam as much as anyone who is sighted since things almost never change.

And oh yeah, she can see the color of peoples' auras. Or something like that.

Ivy has a boon companion in the personage of Noah Percy (Adrien Brody), a Pee-Wee-like character who probably suffers from severe attention-deficit disorder. Child-like and tempestuous, he wears his emotions on his sleeve. He's quite smitten with Ivy, a point that becomes relevant later.

Into this curious relationship enters our protagonist for the first half of the movie, Lucius Hunt, played by Joaquin Phoenix. Am I the only one freaked out that Phoenix also played Commodus in Gladiator, who had a nephew named Lucius? Anyway...Phoenix's character is a staid sort who barely talks at all and he plays him with restraint.

The patriarch of the town is Ivy's father, Edward Walker (William Hurt). He is most noteworthy for being the slowest talker of all. Indeed, this seems like the role Hurt was made for - his slow, methodical approach to everything is perfect for this movie. As opposed to say, Lost in Space.

In the background lurks...something. They are the others, the outsiders, literally big bad wolves in red hoods. Are they werewolves? Aliens? Actors who needed the money? I'm not telling, you'll have to see it for yourself. But what's certain is that they live beyond the borders of the village. To go outside in their territory is to provoke them to violence. All the villagers live in fear of them...everyone except Lucius and Noah. When they stray outside the boundaries of the town, the others start showing up in the town to spread signs that they are not happy.

The plot thickens when Ivy and Lucius decide to marry. Tempers flare, someone gets hurt, and the movie finally shifts gears to be what we were hoping it to be: a scary mystery where half the fun is figuring out what's going on.

When Lucius gets hurt, Ivy must journey into the beyond, violating all the rules she's been told about. And she must do it alone, a blind girl wandering through the woods. Forget the scary boogiemen, the poor girl could trip and spear herself in the eye by accident. That's scary enough.

The problem is that the journey is the real meat of the movie and it takes so long to get there. There is one particularly frightening moment in the film that far exceeds the twist (hint: it involves a knife). It's so sudden and so shocking that it certainly made the film worth seeing. Night knows how to shock and, by now, he knows it doesn't have to come in a surprise ending.

And yet, the surprise ending is there like a big, inevitable sign at the end of a long, circuitous road. If you play close enough attention, you'll start to see the signs clearly enough that give it away. I figured it about halfway through the film (another hint: my dad's an architect).

Having guessed the final twist, the rest is a long, drawn out denouement. Yes, this movie is a story about trying to run away from the evil inherent in all humanity. On some level, Night seems to say, you can take the man out of violence, but you can't take the violence out of man. Okay, fine. But must it take so long to get that point across? And must Night lie to make the twist more effective?

Good movie making means maintaining a willing suspension of disbelief. Fargo, and The Blair Witch project all provided us with info that wasn't accurate - and in both cases, the effect was chilling. Here, it feels like a cheap trick. When Night makes a cameo explaining all the other plot holes in his surprise ending, he starts to sound defensive.

This movie should have been a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood's journey. Instead, we get a Twilight Zone episode not worth seeing twice.

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King Arthur

After watching Troy, I figured King Arthur would be much of the same - a semi-historical retelling of a legend, minus the fantastical elements. I was half right.

This is the King Arthur as historians imagine him to be. Not a thoroughly medieval knight, but a Roman military leader, struggling to retain control of Britain after the fall of Rome. Abandoned by his allies and surrounded on all sides by barbarians, Arthur must rally his infamous horsemen and apply Roman law to a lawless land.

Well, at least that's what the History Channel told me. There's more to the plot. However, the plot was difficult to understand because of the extremely poor sound quality of the film. The audio crew obviously had some challenges, since the majority of the action takes place outdoors. Everyone mumbles every line, such that important points are lost.

To wit, Artorius Castus (King Arthur, played by Clive Owen) is looking forward to releasing his Sarmatian foederati (his knights) from service after a long campaign of battling the natives. It's impossible to name who the natives are, because nobody ever pronounced their names clearly - research finally uncovered "woads," but for a long time I thought it was "vulgs" or "wolves" or "wrothes."

In addition, the Saxons lurk north of a great wall that divides the civilized Roman world in Britain from the barbarian-types. The Saxons are ill defined, looking a bit like Norse Vikings but not actually called Vikings. Which is odd, given that every other character tied to the Arthurian legend IS given his "proper" name, even when it makes no sense for said character to have said name.

Cerdric (Stellan Skarsgard) leads the Saxons, a Really Bad Guy ™. Or at least, he's supposed to be a bad guy. Instead, he settles for whispering every line in a gravelly voice that's supposed to convince us Cerdric, and indeed all the Saxons, are awful, wicked people who deserve to die.

With the Saxons on the move and the Woads getting bolder every day, Artorius just wants to go home. If this plot sounds familiar, it's because every semi-historical movie has been trying to capture the success of Gladiator, including mimicking the plot. It doesn't work here.

Unfortunately, a badly accented Italian bishop comes to deliver news that the knights have one more mission before they will be released back to Rome. It's a rescue mission to a governor's son, who is right in the path of the rampaging Saxons.

The Saxons are such bad guys that even the Woads, led by Merlin (Stephen Dillane), figure they have a better chance at uniting with the foreign occupation, so they decide to make peace with Arthur against a common enemy. It doesn't hurt that Guinevere (played by a wild-eyed Keira Knightley) improves Roman/Woad relations by sleeping with Arthur. Knightley plays Guinevere with wild-eyed abandon, a supposedly ferocious hellcat who can take out Saxons half-naked and with a thin sword. She simply doesn't have the physical presence to pull it off.

After rescuing the boy, Arthur and his knights are faced with a difficult choice: leave the land they now call home for a homeland they can barely remember, or fight and probably die to defend their new home.

There are so many knights who are all scruffy and dark-haired that they blur together. To help distinguish each character, they are given a fighting style and a weapon - none of which strive for even a smidgen of historical accuracy. One knight fights with spiked knuckles, another with two long swords, a third in a rapier style, another with a saber, one with a club, etc. None of this would be a problem if it weren't for the long text intro (and advertising) that proclaims this movie is based on historical fact.

For reasons that only the writers can explain, Sir Bors (Ray Winstone) is by far the most charismatic character and has the most lines - even more than Lancelot (Ioan Gruffudd). Bors was a relatively minor character in Arthurian legend, but apparently his comic relief was sorely needed in a film that takes itself far too seriously.

Lancelot exchanges glances with Guinevere and there's plenty of jokes implying he's a womanizer, but no romance. Bors talks a lot about his own prowess in bed, his family, and his home. Galahad (Hugh Dancy) and Gawain (Joel Edgerton) argue with each other a lot (and since they're brothers, it often seems like one actor arguing with himself).

Throughout the story, we discover Arthur is a Christian and his knights are not. But even Arthur thinks a little differently - he follows the teachings of Pelagius, a Celtic monk who believed in free will. When Pelagius is banished excommunicated, Arthur seriously rethinks returning to Rome.

There's a lot of talk about religion and ethics in the treatment of the Woads, of prisoners, and the knights, but none of it is portrayed with any real emotion. The combat scenes are disjointed, probably to keep the movie to a PG-13 rating. At least Troy had the guts to go for an R rating and show combat in all its gory detail.

King Arthur has all the horrible attributes of First Knight, barely resembling the myth from which its characters are named. And yet it hides behind the accuracy of supposed historical research, which quickly falls apart upon examination (and watching the History Channel).

In the end, the most exciting scene is a battle against the Saxons on an ice-covered lake. Good stuff, certainly enough to be entertaining. But it could have been so much more.

King Arthur is like Troy without Brad Pitt. It has all the will and none of the acting ability, directorial talent, or plot to back it up.

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I, Robot

I haven't read the short stories by Isaac Assimov upon which I, Robot (the movie) is based, although I'm peripherally familiar with them in their relation to modern science fiction robots and androids. I am familiar with The Fresh Prince - errr, Will Smith. And I'm a big fan of Alex Proyas' previous films, including The Crow and Dark City. A thinking man's movie teamed with a lovable action hero. You can't go wrong...can you?

I, Robot takes place in the near future, a future that looks lot like Minority Report and A.I. Everything is automated to such a degree that travel has become more dangerous than before. For example, cars travel so fast, it's unsafe for a human (instead of an artificial intelligence) to drive one. Permeated throughout this society is one brand of robot-a mobilized servant workforce. They only mimic people in their humanoid shape; expressionless round eyeholes, a slit for a mouth, and a smooth body.

Enter Will Smith's character, Detective Spooner. Calling him Spooner is pointless, because Smith's personality is indelibly printed on the movie. He is urban, hip, and in incredibly good shape. He also has a dark secret that makes him prejudiced against robots. No one brings up the irony of a black American being prejudiced against a robot - Proyas probably considered it too crass.

The next generation of robots, the NS5, is about to be launched. It's a smoother, friendlier robot with facial features that look a lot like people. The effect is startling, as they are clearly made of plastic - it's like watching an iMac come to life. Enter Sonny, a robot present at the supposed suicide of his creator, Dr. Alfred Lanning. Spooner is called by Lanning's communicator, which leads him on a trail of breadcrumbs to find the truth behind Dr. Lanning's death and the new robots.

I, Robot talks a lot about the three laws and their application. It also has a lot in common with films that have paid their own particular tribute to Asimov's work, including the Matrix (the robot revolution started with a murder). VIKI, the artificial intelligence that runs much of the city's systems, harkens back to one of my favorite movies: Colossus: The Forbin Project. There's not much new in I, Robot.

But it doesn't matter. Spooner is a sane man in a world gone mad, a world that has willingly given itself over to automation. The timing of the movie is perfect; cries of outsourcing have given way to the uncomfortable realization that "optimization" (read: computers and robots) are the reason our manual workforce is suffering.

I, Robot resembles science fiction movies from the 1950s filled with marching robots and legions slavishly devoted to communal good with one important difference: fear of communism has been replaced by the fear of outsourcing. Indeed, the prejudice against the more mathematically precise robots echoes the prejudices against outsourced countries with better educations that are willing to work for much less. The NS4 robots are unfailingly polite and cheerfully perform the worst drudgery. What happens when we no longer know how to do the drudgery ourselves? Or to put it another way...what happens when a first world country becomes so dependent on the predatory labor force of others that it can no longer take care of itself?

Revolution, that's what. Now, we're no longer afraid of Big Brother...we ARE Big Brother, afraid of losing control of everyone else. I, Robot hits a perfect note in that regard.

And yet, nothing else is sacred. There is a love-fest over Smith's shoes, which actually get more screen time than some characters. Spooner drives a gas-powered motorcycle, a quaint anachronism...except that it feels like some suit shouted "let's put Smith on a motorcycle!" There are far, FAR too many unnecessary slow-motion action shots, including the aforementioned motorcycle.

The movie has all the right product placement and plot points: the cute furry animal survives, the good guys always get what they deserve, the bad guys gets their just desserts, and the wisecracking hero is rewarded for his outrageous antics. There are also gaping plot holes, like a service entrance that has no surveillance. In that regard, I, Robot tries too hard to please. Its action-hero concessions detract from its message.

Still, the special effects are fantastic. Sonny has more pathos than Smith on screen and is a wonder to watch as he displays child-like awe, anger, rage, sadness, and compassion. Conversely, we have the robotic pretty/ugly scientist (you know, the kind who wear glasses and their hair in a bun and are unappealing, but let down their hair and become gorgeous), Dr. Susan Calvin (Bridget Moynahan), assisting the investigation. She reminds me of Sandra Bullock, minus the charm.

Smith floats through the movie with ease. He's sullen, wisecracking, and refreshingly free of any adult responsibility. He's a big man-child who comes off more as a spoiled brat than a streetwise cop, clinging to his anachronistic ways as if he invented them. Smith didn't have to strain to act this movie out - it's like Bad Boys was dropped into Minority Report.

The robots themselves, when roused to combat, move like gangly monkeys imbued with catlike grace. Combat scenes between robots would be too fast to even see if it wasn't for those darned slo-mo scenes, the only time they really are appropriate.

Ultimately, I, Robot strives to be both a thinking man's science fiction, an action vehicle for Will Smith, and a social commentary about the state of the world. It ends up being somewhere in between all three, but it's a tribute to the director's skill that I, Robot is still engaging despite its schizophrenic tendencies.

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Thursday, February 26, 2009

Spider-Man 2

The first Spider-Man movie was a careful, appropriate, and sincere retelling of the Spider-Man mythology. In essence, the mythology of Spider-Man carried the movie, not the movie itself. In contrast, Tim Burton's Batman was extremely...Burtonesque. It's a tribute to Raimi's directorial skill that he was able to put his ego aside and get the heck out of the way of a great story.

Spider-Man 2, on the other hand, has Raimi written all over it. Spider-Man 2 isn't just Raimi's magnum opus--it's bigger, better, more stylized, and ultimately, a different kind of movie altogether.

In Spider-Man 2, we pick up two years later and yet, things are still pretty much the same. Peter's (Tobey Maquire) living week-to-week on jobs he can't keep due to his nighttime superhero antics. His grades suffer. He never gets a date. Peter is a big loser...smart, but unlucky in just about everything.

Conversely, things are going swimmingly well for Mary-Jane (Kirsten Dunst). She's marrying J. Jonah Jameson's (J.K. Simmons) son (Danielle Gillies, who eventually becomes Man-Wolf after finding a weird space rock on the moon). She models for billboards. She gets great acting gigs.

In the background, Harry Osborn (James Franco), is now the CEO of Oscorp after his father died in a battle with Spider-Man. Harry is gambling on a dangerous perpetual fusion project, led by the inimitable Doctor Otto Octavius (Alfred Molina).

Comic book fans know the drill: Otto creates mechanical tentacles, attached at his waist, to act as his hands when performing experiments of extreme heat and radiation. That's why Dr. Octavius stands behind a reinforced wall and inserts his tentacles in a fashion similar to modern scientists manipulating dangerous chemicals today.

Oh wait. No that was the comic. In the movie, against all reason, Otto uses the tentacles without any protective gear whatsoever. Since Otto's conducting an open room demonstration with the people funding the project in a warehouse, mere feet away from a pulsating globe of energy, one must wonder if the tentacles have any use at all.

In the comic, Doctor Octopus had six tentacles. Here has only four, but they're plenty. It also becomes immediately evident why Alfred Molina had to play the part - wearing tentacles and not looking like an idiot requires a BIG man, and Molina is huge. Unlike the comic, where the tentacles bond with Doc Ock as a result of the explosion, giving him "telepathic control over them," these tentacles are artificially intelligent. Each tentacle snaps and hisses like a snake, with a glaring red eye in its palm. And oh yeah, the tentacles work based off of Doc Ock's neuro-transmissions, so the suit that controls the tentacles digs directly into his spinal column.

My wife turned to me at this point and said, "Why didn't they just sell the tentacles to make a profit?" She's right - in the rush to get on with the rest of the plot, the weirdly plausible tentacles didn't need much explaining. And since when are scientists both mechanical engineers AND brilliant physicists?

The word "tentacles" should have perked up the ears of Raimi fans. Raimi is fond of tentacles, as evidenced by the Evil Dead movies (which in turn, was taken from Chinese Ghost Story). Doc Ock's tentacles attack with a mind of their own, flailing surgeons in a surrealistic scene that could only be described as Raimi's brand of horror. There's even a surgeon who grabs a medical chainsaw and tries to cut one of the tentacles. It doesn't save him.

I won't dwell on the unnecessary Mrs. Octavius (Rosalie) or some of the other minor quibbles about the Doc Ock character. However, once Doc Ock's rushed origin is over, all is forgiven. His tentacles have a personality of their own and they undulate and twist in the background as Doc Ock gestures. He has the round glasses, the trench coat, and all the moves that make Doc Ock Doc Ock. Visually, anyway, Raimi got it right. Certainly, he still makes more sense than the painfully strained justifications created for the Green Goblin (a surfboard AND a green suit AND little bombs that happen to look like pumpkins? What an amazing coincidence!).

The rest of the movie is Peter navigating the wrecked shambles of his life (and peripherally, that of his Aunt May). Spider-Man 2 stays firmly focused on the dizzying highs and piteous lows of a kid trying to make it on his own, including family squabbles, failed romance, and strained friendships. We are led to believe that Peter begins to lose his powers because he no longer believes in himself. Can't climb? Sure. Can't shoot webbing? Okay. Is physically weaker? Gimme a break. Spider-Man's muscles didn't deflate, so there's no reason for Parker to limp after a fall...except to make an in-joke about Tobey Maquire's back problem.

The first movie had a lot of CGI effects that just weren't up to par. Yes, Spider-Man needs to move like a superhero, but often times he looked like some kind of weird robot with extra joints, flipping around in ways that didn't feel like it could be a man in a suit. In Spider-Man 2, Raimi is cognizant of the limitations of CGI. We never see Spider-Man up close when the special effects are required, just like every director's been doing for years with good old fashioned make-up and animatronics.

Despite the change in pace, the fight scenes are filled with amazing feats of agility. Spider-Man's not just acrobatic, he THINKS fast and the contortions he resorts to display that magnificent superhuman speed. He has to move fast too, because Doc Ock's got six limbs to Spider-Man's four.

Props to Raimi for making a movie that doesn't flinch in dealing with its subject. Heck, the ending puts a stake in the ground that puts to rest the "who will be the next villain?" game. Barring some plot flaws that can be chalked up to a comic book style, Spider-Man 2 is a real treat.

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Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

I'm not a huge Harry Potter fan.

This is not to say that I don't appreciate Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling has brought fantasy to adults and children everywhere, and I'm extremely grateful for it. However, a lot of what she wrote is familiar to fans of fantasy - indeed, in some ways she's slyly retelling the Arthurian myth (oops, did I give that away?).

As a result, I haven't read the books. So my critique of the movie is based on solely the movie standing on its own. This is important - the two women that I went to see it with missed flaws that confused me because they knew the backstory. If you're a raving Harry Potter fan, move on, there's nothing to see here. If you're an average Joe who may not be intimately familiar with the Harry Potter series, then we can commiserate.

The movie starts with Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) finally doing what we've always wanted him to do - teach those muggle bullies a lesson. Indeed, much of this movie has wand waving and pointing in a manner that suggest harm if not death. Right away, we understand that Harry is mad and he's not going to take it anymore.

Harry runs away from home, only to get picked up by a bus for homeless wizards. This wacky bus phases in and out of traffic, whips around hairpin turns, and is cheerfully narrated by a Jamaican shrunken head, all the while providing comfortable sleeping arrangements for down-on-their-luck wizards. From there it's off to the Leaky Cauldron. Fortunately, Harry doesn't get in trouble for "blowing up his aunt" - indeed, he is curiously free of all penalties or retribution for his unseemly magical behavior. Without repercussions or real consequences for his actions, Harry is united with his old friends Hermione (Emma Watson) and Ron (Rupert Gint) and sent off to school, Monster Manual (that's an inside joke for you role-players) and all.

It's there that Harry discovers none other than Sirius Black, a wizard who escaped from Azkaban, hunts him. The Dementors, a Ringwraith-like series of black shrouded floating ghosts who suck the life out of the living, in turn hunt Sirius. But who is Sirius really hunting and why?

Because the Dementors are the long arm of the law, so to speak, they are tolerated at the school, but the headmaster (Michael Gambon, filling big shoes left by Richard Harris) warns that no one should "give the Dementors a reason" to harm a student.

That introduction pretty much sums up the problem with the movie. The Prisoner of Azkaban wants to be grown up. The Dementors genuinely threaten Harry, and he deals with very real feelings of rage and frustration. He picks fights with bullies, struggles with classes, and kids whisper behind his back. But there are consequences for such actions and the movie often fails to take them into account.

For example, Hermione is granted some exceedingly powerful magic that enables her to take two classes at the same time (!) and yet Harry isn't allowed on a school trip because he can't get a signed permission form from his stepparents. Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane), now an instructor for the exotic beasts class, exposes his students to a dangerous hippogriff and, duh, somebody gets hurt. Harry gets in trouble for using a magical map that shows the location of everyone in the school, but it's apparently okay for the kids to play quidditch in the middle of a lightning storm. You know, the game where they fly on broomsticks chasing flying METAL BALLS. Should we be surprised that someone gets hit by lightning? In comparison, Harry's encounter with Dementors seems tame.

There are also some strange plot choices, such as having not one but two beings that transform into canines. Are viewers sophisticated enough to know the difference between a Grimm - a gigantic black moor hound - and a werewolf? Most unforgivable is the Massive Deus Ex Machina that is poorly explained and abruptly introduced, but manages to conveniently wraps up every loose end.

That said, Prisoner of Azkaban is a beautifully visualized movie, a sort of Gormenghast version of the earlier cheery installments. Alfonso Cuaron films everything through a dark lens, but with a humorous aside. Yes, this is a darker, scarier movie, but it's all in fun.

The actors are a mixed bag. Radcliffe doesn't display a lot of range in a role that demands much - weeping is not his forte. Gint isn't much better. His character is still a caricature, a bumbling scaredy cat that seems a little too attached to his pet rat Scabbers. The nature of the pets are never truly explained - are they familiars and thus important to magic or merely pets? If they're just pets, why would the school tolerate them? If they're familiars, Ron should be in big trouble for repeatedly losing Scabbers.

David Thewlis is superb as Professor Lupin, alternately playing a sad and extremely intelligent professor who once knew Harry's parents. Equally engaging is Professor Snape (Alan Rickman). Throw in Gary Oldman as Sirius Black and you've got three excellent actors at the top of their game. Unfortunately, the new Dumbledore simply does not have the weary, measured wisdom that Harris brought to the role. Dumbledore feels like a younger guy in a wig and moustache.

The true star of this movie is Watson. Like Harry, she experiences all stages of teen drama, from fright to frustration to just plain fist-fightin' mad and displays all of them with the prowess of a professional actress. Watson gets my vote for the one most likely to "survive" (in the way the Star Wars cast survived) this series when it ends.

Ultimately, those who love the book will love this movie. But as an outsider looking in, it seemed like a lot was left out. My wife was able to fill in the blanks, but she shouldn't have to.

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The Day After Tomorrow

The Day After Tomorrow is a disaster film, and I love disaster films, so it was inevitable that I would get to witness Roland Emmerich (infamous director of Independence Day and Godzilla) blow up the Earth again.

He does not disappoint.

Anyone who is a fan of these kinds of films knows the formula. Since there's no real villain to defeat, the heroes become heroes through their sheer will to survive. Thus, we have a paleoclimatologist (professor Jack Hall, played by Dennis Quaid) waging a one-man political war to convince the U.S. government that the world is going to have another ice age. Really soon.

The manifestation of said ice age takes a variety of forms, not the least of which include tidal waves, tornados, hurricanes, softball-sized hail, and killer cold snaps. The killer cold snaps are a new weapon in the terrors wrought by Mother Nature, freezing everything within its path as the temperature drops 100 degrees a second. Or something like that.

Our hero is not a particularly good father - he travels a lot, that's the nature of his job - so it is with particular angst that he discovers his son (Sam Hall, played by Jake Gyllenhal of Donnie Darko fame), is trapped in New York City with all that water and ice. Jack is uniquely equipped to cover frozen terrain because he recently took ice cores from the North Atlantic iceberg shelf. So he sets off to find his son along with his two bumbling but lovable buddies. It's all very American, a sort of road-trip meets disaster movie.

Fortunately, Emmerich has more in mind than just messing up the world, or the movie would be insufferably stupid. Emmerich's vice president seems awfully similar to Dick Cheney .The President even turns to the VP to ask, "What do you think we should do?" in a nod to Bush critics. Ultimately, the First World nations are forced to flee to Third World countries for refuge.

And why? Because we didn't listen to the warnings about global warming and helped kick off an ice age that essentially moves the polar ice caps to somewhere over the U.S. and China.

In New York City, survivors burn books in the public library to keep warm. One librarian, who doesn't believe in God, clings valiantly to the original Gutenberg bible -- a symbol of humanity's civilization in the hands of an atheist.

Democrats everywhere are cackling their heads off.

Wrapped in this allegory are of course the usual disaster elements and required plot devices. We have the unbelieving leader in control, the "will he make it" heart-stopping moment, the love interest, the noble self-sacrifice to save other lives, and more. Everything established in the Poseidon Adventure is here.

From a purely narrative perspective, the movie borders on the nonsensical. Emmerich knows this and eases us into the plot. First we're told an ice age won't happen for thousands of years. Then we're told it will happen in a few years. Then in months. Then in weeks.

Of course, the ice age is integral to the plot and thus can be forgiven. Less forgivable is the extremely fragile all-terrain vehicles that collapse into uselessness when they bump into something, or Jack happening to be present just as the ice shelf falls into the ocean, or the unbelievable (albeit dramatic) effects of the killer cold snaps, or an ocean liner floating through the watery streets of New York. And then there are the wolves.

My wife has a degree in environmental conservation and derived some smug satisfaction from The Day After Tomorrow until the wolves showed up. To elaborate: wolves escape from a local zoo in New York City. They just happen to end up on the aforementioned ocean liner, where our heroes are struggling to find food. Then the wolves act in decidedly cinematic fashion, attacking everyone in sight, even to run away from the food to chase Sam.

I've written a role-playing game book on arctic survival and I'm currently writing a book about werewolves, so I know what I'm talking about when I tell you that wolves would never act like this. It's a slap in the face to the environmentalists who were cheering throughout the movie. Bad Emmerich, bad!

The actors are noticeably visible beneath their cold weather clothing ("How can I emote if no one can see my face?!"). And that's probably a good thing, because there's not very much for any of them to do. The always-lovely Sela Ward plays Dr. Lucy Hall, Jack's wife, and there's a heart-wrenching scene where she must decide if she will stay behind to comfort a child who cannot be easily evacuated. That would be Disaster Flick Plot Device #5.

Gyllenhal carries much of the movie as an ingenious teenager, but he seems a little too old for the pretty young thing (a cute AND smart Emmy Rossum) he pursues. Jake is six years Emmy's elder and no amount of makeup can conceal the difference. Everyone else is a stereotype, although the clichés have evolved somewhat (we now get the "Erkel Guy").

The Day After Tomorrow is an amusing and sardonic attack on American conservative politics and First World excesses. As a cohesive tale of global warming, it is less successful. As a fun disaster flick, it's a serviceable entry in a long list of movies that are otherwise content to blow things up.

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Donnie Darko

Donnie Darko is one of those movies you've always heard about but never saw. Here's why: Donnie Darko is about a young man in high school who sleepwalks at night, just in time to avoid a jet engine smashing through his bedroom.

Right around September 11, 2001.

So Donnie Darko, like the titular character of the same name, disappeared with nary a trace. Fortunately, we now have a DVD version and there will be a new theatrical re-release of a director's cut of the film in July, 2004. Perhaps Donnie will still get his day.

Donnie Darko is about the Darko family. They're an average family, with an older sister heading for college (Elizabeth, played by Jake's real life sister Maggie), a cute-as-a-button younger sister (Samantha, played by Daveigh Chase), a white-collar mom and dad (Mary McDonnell and Holmes Osborne), and then there's Donnie. Jake Gyllenhaal plays Donnie as an alternately awkward, exhausted, strung out teenager who exhibits brief flashes of rage at the inanity of modern life. Donnie also suffers from a troubled past, a past that requires him to see a therapist and take medication.

Donnie's life is a textbook troubled soul on the road to nowhere. We could easily see him committing suicide, getting involved in drugs, getting some girl pregnant, maybe joining a gang, or even shooting up his school. All's the pity, because Donnie is also extremely bright and has a piercing wit that embarrasses adults.

All that changes when Frank shows up. Who's Frank, you ask? Why, Frank's a deranged bunny rabbit.

That's a simplification, of course. To be precise, Frank is a deranged being in a bunny rabbit suit. The distinction matters.

In fact, in Donnie Darko, EVERYTHING matters. Every word, every nuance, like an Edgar Allen Poe poem, has significance and meaning. Ironically, the director and writer, Richard Kelly, feels the movie has only one interpretation as a science fiction story. In spite of himself, Kelly has created a movie that alternately weeps at the desperate loneliness of so many humans living next to each other and exults in the sheer joy of existence.

Frank whispers suggestions to Donnie, things that, at least on the surface, seem like very bad things to do. Donnie, in his sleepwalking, always performs these acts of vandalism. And each time, Frank tells Donnie how much he has left before the world ends. He starts the film with 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds. Screen shots remind us that the end of the world is coming in a manner similar to The Ring (which came out in 2002, one year after Donnie Darko).

Reality lurks in the background. No one can explain where the jet engine came from. Government agents shadow Donnie's every step. In the mean time, town life goes on: Samantha's dance group gets discovered by an agent, a self-help guru (played by Patrick Swayze) spreads his mind-numbing spiritual pap, a book gets banned by the conservative elements for fear that it influences students to commit vandalism, bullies make fun of kids, teenagers do drugs and fool around...in other words, it's a microcosm of Everytown, USA.

All around him, Donnie's life slowly falls apart even as it starts to make sense. Each person in his life is challenged by their mediocrity and must face whether to rise above or succumb to their fears. The movie emphasizes the madness of putting "Fear" and "Love as diametrically opposed elements, emphasizing that the world is never that simple and often involves a mixture of the two. It also struggles with the issue of God's existence, of personal choice vs. destiny, of life and death, of madness vs. sanity, and more.

Drew Barrymore stars as an English teacher who attempts to open the student's minds. She's also executive producer. Unfortunately, her character comes off as stilted and unbelievable. Noah Wyle makes an appearance that's appropriately low key.

Kelly's camerawork is exceptionally mature for a new director. He doesn't shy away from wide-angle scenes and takes on some breathtaking shots; the most memorable being one sweeping panoramic scene that manages to encompass all that is high school in the span of a few seconds.

At least as integral to the film is the 80s music that permeates it. This movie is a love letter to the misbegotten youth of year 2000 twenty-somethings. The music is always appropriate and conveys the slow tumble of Donnie's life very effectively. The song "Mad World" sums up the essence of the film and its fundamental disagreement with what passes for our own mundane reality.

Donnie Darko has a lot in common with movies like Groundhog Day and Fight Club. The themes of personal choice, of growing beyond one's own selfish nature, of facing down one's demons in a universe that doesn't exist make for though-provoking cinema in the tradition of the silver screen. We don't get many films like this anymore.

As the movie comes to a close, Donnie must make a choice. It's not the choice that really matters, but that he was comfortable with his decision in the end. Viewers who stick with the movie and pay close attention will not be disappointed.

Besides, Frank told you to see it.

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The Chronicles of Riddick

The Chronicles of Riddick is the continuing story of Riddick (Vin Diesel), the bald-headed, night seeing convict who escaped from prison and was ultimately so tough that he could beat up aliens with just a knife. Given that the first movie was called Pitch Black, Riddick's peculiar eyes lent him a particular advantage - both against his captors and the aliens that inhabited the planet.

On the surface, one could summarize Pitch Black as an Aliens knockoff. But it was so much more than that. Just as Aliens was more than about soldiers blowing up aliens, Pitch Black was about how people hide behind who they really are and that people don't change - they just reveal their true natures. The movie was also noteworthy for being a science fiction film that portrayed Muslim beliefs in a positive light and as the dominant religion.

Keeping those elements in mind, the Chronicles of Riddick (TCOR) is the logical extension of the first movie, even though it doesn't involve many aliens or all that much darkness. No, TCOR stays true to its characters and appeals to what made the first movie so much fun - Riddick's bad, sure...but the bad guys are even WORSE.

Those bad guys are the Necromongers, a race bent on the total conversion of the universe to the "Underverse" - sort of an anti-Mecca. The Necromongers aren't just bad guys; they're an entire style. Statues abound of torture and self-mutilation. The Necromonger ships have faces built into their hulls of the uncaring tyrant known only as Lord Marshal. Everything, from the staves the captains wield to the weapons of mass destruction the Necromongers use to obliterate planets - it all fits. The Necromonger ships even hum along on roiling clouds of black energy.

The troops match the architecture. Their helmets model the pain and suffering they believe in. Undead watchdogs, their faces encased in strange helmets, "lens" out the living, seeing through darkness and right through walls. Those who are caught are converted to "half-dead," uncaring soldiers in service to Lord Marshal. The most powerful Necromongers can steal a person's soul right out of their bodies.

In short, the Necromongers are really cool bad guys.

If the Necromongers seem familiar to some, it's because they're modeled after the concept of a negative energy universe that so many Dungeons & Dragons players are familiar with. Vin Diesel is a self-professed gamer and his roots show - heck, Judi Dench plays an "air elemental." Nobody uses an air elemental in a sci-fi context these days unless they're a gamer.

Unfortunately, this assumption may lose those who aren't sci-fi fans, gamers, or fantasy fans. Indeed, many of the criticisms of the movie is that it's too confusing. My parents (who admittedly, raised me to be the gaming freak that I am) understood the plot just fine, and they are not gamers.

If the plot were merely about the Necromonger's quest to take over the universe, it would make for a rather feeble rip off of the Borg from Star Trek. Instead, Riddick is prophesized to kill the Lord Marshal, and as a result his second in command (played by Karl Urban, of Eomer fame from Lord of the Rings) along with his scheming wife plot to bring about the conflict.

Why? Because the Necromonger way of life (er, death?) is "You Keep What You Kill." In other words, whoever kills the Lord Marshal gets to take over the entire legion of Necromongers.

Of course, Riddick wants nothing to do with his fate as one of the last members of a race known as the "Furions." The Furions have been all but wiped out by the Necromongers. But Lord Marshal is to be killed by his own knife by Riddick...so bounty hunters are once again on his trail.

Being on the lam is not a good way to raise a kid. Riddick has long since left the Imam on New Mecca and Jack (the kid from Pitch Black) to her own devices. When the Necromongers finally back Riddick into a corner, he discovers there's no escaping the bad guys...or his past.

TCOR is filled with a lot of important relationships, commentary about the nature of evil, snide swipes at religious institutions, free thought, and morality. It also has plenty of action. Instead of running across a pitch-black planet, Riddick must traverse a burning planet aptly named Crematoria.

With the majesty of the Necromongers and the amount of planet hopping that takes place, digital effects are rife throughout the movie. These are expected - indeed, the movie would be unwatchable without the effects, some of which are integral to the plot. The most subtle effect is Riddick's eyes, that shine like silver plates in the darkness.

Critics of the film have pointed out that Lord Marshal does not appear to be a physical match for Riddick. That's kind of like saying "The Emperor doesn't seem like he can take Luke Skywalker in a duel." The physical presence of Lord Marshal is not the point. He is the only one to have touched the Underverse and upon doing so acquired incredible power. He SHOULD look like a "normal guy."

The Chronicles of Riddick is a good old-fashioned science fiction ride across the universe in the tradition of Conan (especially the ending). The movie will only seem confusing to people who are not familiar with gaming and fantasy tropes...and thus critics and boring people SHOULD NOT SEE IT.

But for the rest of us...watch it, then watch Pitch Black again. They make an excellent pair.

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Shrek 2

If you've seen Shrek 2, you've probably seen Shrek. In summation, Shrek (Mike Myers) is an ogre. A prince who has a distinct taste for the mundane and is uh, "vertically challenged," drives all the fairy tale beings from his kingdom right into Shrek's swamp. This course of events puts Shrek and donkey (a talking ass, played by Eddie Murphy) into a series of events that ultimately lead to Shrek rescuing Princess Fiona (Cameron Diaz) from a tower and ultimately marrying her. Princess Fiona switches forms between a comely human female and an ogress at night, until she experiences "true love's first kiss." In a twist on the traditional fairy tale, the kiss from Shrek transforms the princess into her ogress form. The End.

Enter Shrek 2, picking up right where Shrek left off. Fiona was originally a human, so it's time for her human parents to meet both Fiona in her now permanent ogress form and Shrek who...well, who is always an ogre.

What happens next is the usual comedic plot of the new beau as a fish-out-of-water. The King (John Cleese) and Shrek don't get along. Complicating matters is the fact that Fiona was supposed to marry Prince Charming (Rupert Everett), the progeny of the Fairy Godmother (Jennifer Saunders).

Distraught over the obvious distaste Fiona's father has for her new son-in-law, Shrek seeks out a solution from the Fairy Godmother and gets it in the form of a Happily Ever After™ potion. The potion transforms everyone into what they most desire, but the effects only become permanent if sealed with a kiss before midnight. Of course.

The movie is filled with in-jokes that whiz by at high speed. My wife and I caught jokes that the parents in the audience didn't - especially one where donkey (Eddie Murphy, remember) was framed by palm tress behind him and music that was a throwback to Eddie's Beverly Hills Cop movies. Conversely, while the children laughed at a lot of the fart jokes, there wasn't enough action to keep them entertained the entire time. At various intervals, the audience was audibly restless.

And that's the problem with Shrek 2. Shrek and Fiona's problems sound suspiciously like they're heading for divorce - remember, they're married, not dating - and the parental/new spouse arguments might be a little bit too close to home for some. While Shrek spoofed Disney, Shrek 2 spoofs Hollywood, a spoof that's been done to death.

By far the best part of the movie is Puss-in-Boots, played by Antonio Banderas. Part swashbuckler, part cute little tabby, Puss is hired by the King to kill Shrek. Ignoring for a moment that Fiona's father is trying to kill his son-in-law, Puss steals the show. Never has an animated character so captured the cuteness and sexiness of an actor all rolled up into a ball of fur. In fact, he's so good that...this quote sums it up:

Puss-in-Boots: Pray for mercy from... Puss! - In boots. Fear me, if you dare.
Donkey: I'm sorry, but the position for annoying talking animal has already been taken!

True. But Puss is cuter and funnier. Donkey, while occasionally amusing, is simply not necessary.

Shrek 2 also suffers from not having a lot for the characters to do. Some of Shrek's quips are just plain tired. Even some of the old cast, including Pinocchio, the Big Bad Wolf, the Three Little Pigs, the Three Blind Mice, and the Gingerbread Man are back. The jokes - a new twist on an old fairy tale - no longer apply. Heck, the Gingerbread Man appears in Wal-Mart commercials!

Shrek 2 has enough in-jokes to keep parents entertained. But it's not as good as the original, because much of the original's charm came from being the first to lampoon fairy tales in a Disney-fied society.

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Troy

My wife's a "fan" of Brad Pitt, so it only made sense that I would inevitably see Troy. She comes with me to see Kate Beckinsale fight vampires all the time, so I figure we're even.

It's easy to categorize Troy as a movie in the vein of the sweeping historical epics like Spartacus and The Ten Commandments. The musical score swells, lots of extras mill about, and the camera moves slowly over panoramic views. Only in the 21st century, the musical score still swells, digitized extras using the Massive engine (first invented for Lord of the Rings) makes the extras mill about, and the camera moves slowly over computer-generated panoramic views. For all intents and purposes, the effect is largely the same.

It's easier to categorize what Troy is not...

Troy is NOT Gladiator. Troy has far too many characters to focus exclusively on one man's revenge. Unfortunately, Troy tries to do just that in the character of Achilles (Brad Pitt). It doesn't work, if only because one has difficulty sympathizing with a killing machine. Even if that killing machine walks around half-naked displaying his tanned washboard abs. Lots of men could empathize with The Spaniard. There's very few folks to like in Troy.

Troy is NOT Helen of Troy. There were plenty of flaws with Helen of Troy, not the least of which being that if you're going to use the premise that Helen's really worth launching a thousand ships for, she better be incredibly hot. Helen of Troy's Helen simply didn't have that much allure. Fortunately, the Helen of this movie (Diane Kruger) is very attractive. On the other hand, her beauty is largely wasted because this is not about romance. Where the Iliad played up the star-crossed lovers angle, this movie makes it clear (over and over and OVER) that the war is actually about much less noble aims. In other words, Helen's just an excuse to start a war that would have happened anyway. Which is sort of like saying that Moses just sort of made up the Ten Commandments. I imagine Charlton Heston would have made a much less impressive movie as a result.

Troy is NOT Clash of the Titans. Every mythical or supernatural trace has been eradicated from the script. Achilles isn't invulnerable ("why else would I use a shield?"). You won't see a bearded Zeus arguing with...well, anybody.

Troy is a semi-realistic retelling of an event, with the presumption - one might say, arrogant assumption - that the Iliad is in fact an embellishment of the whole thing. In transforming it into a simple if somewhat overblown war story, it has parallels to Americas' conflict with Iraq. A powerful nation attacks a smaller country for construed reasons (Helen), only to find the protracted war to be more costly than expected. Indeed, there's even weapons of mass destruction - flaming balls of straw unleashed on slumbering Greeks.

Troy has its moments. Achilles is a true martial artist and his combat is breathtaking. Achilles himself is part of the scenery. Brad Pitt, at 40-years-old, looks like he was sculpted from marble. He FEELS like a hero of Greek myth. Eric Bana's furrowed brow lends a tinge of regret to Hector. And Orlando Bloom is suitably whiny and impetuous as Paris. Heck, even Sean Bean plays the role of Odysseus, lending his measured tones to a man who has seen so much that he has his own string of movies.

Troy's strength is also its weakness. The familiarity of the characters breeds contempt. When Paris picks up a bow and fires arrows at Achilles and the hero continues to stump forward as arrow after arrow thuds into his chest, I couldn't help but flash back to Legolas (Orlando Bloom) firing a bow and Boromir (Sean Bean) stumbling to orc archery. The Lord of the Rings trilogy has not even grown cold...either Troy has an eerily similar parallel or directors are already filming an homage to Peter Jackson.

And that's the problem. Troy feels like a movie made by movie stars about some stuff that happened in the past. Troy plays fast and loose with history and with the characters, but gives the actors plenty of time to enunciate and emote. It is truly an actor's movie. It also not a great movie, in the way Cleopatra isn't a great movie but people still watch it to see the stars.

For historical buffs, Troy is a revisionist travesty. For moviegoers looking for an action flick, Troy's not exciting enough to hold their interest. For fans of Greek mythology, Troy offers almost nothing at all. Troy wants to be something entirely different...but nobody ASKED for that kind of movie. It's almost as if the director felt the actual plot of the Iliad is too juvenile for modern audiences. Homer would disagree.

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Van Helsing

My father is a huge fan of the Universal Studios monsters. He really enjoyed the remake of The Mummy, so the return of several onscreen monster staples simultaneously (the Wolfman, Frankenstein's Monster, and Dracula) was a must-see. We were not disappointed.

Van Helsing is not by any means a GOOD movie. It is pulp action fun, in the same vein as League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, The Shadow, and the Indiana Jones series. Too many people confuse pulp-action movies for poorly directed films - one is on purpose, the other is unintentional.

The term "pulp" is derived from the paperback books that were made of pulpy paper. Cheap and filled with lurid tales of sex and violence, pulp was sort of porn for the action-minded: not much talk, lots of fighting. In fact, it's not unusual for the fights to actually string together so that the hero doesn't get to say or do much of anything. A lot of reviews emphasize, "Van Helsing never lets up." Yep, that's pulp.

Another surefire way to identify a pulp-type style is the hero. Heroes in pulp stories are ridiculously well rounded. Pulp heroes are scientists and master pugilists, excellent pilots and crack shots. While modern heroes pride themselves on their flaws, pulp heroes have none. Van Helsing displays all signs of being nearly indestructible.

Now that we've gotten the definition of pulp out of the way and established that the director's (Sommers) intent was to create a pulp film, we can ignore many of the basic weaknesses inherent to a film of this genre and focus on the other aspects.

This is one, gigantic homage. The film makes that homage very overt by filming the opening sequence in black-and-white. Dr. Frankenstein and Dracula talk, act, and ultimately get attacked by villagers with pitchforks and torches. The sequence ends with the appearance of Frankenstein's Monster, who goes out with a bang.

Flash forward to the Victorian age. Van Helsing is tracking none other than Mr. Hyde. Yes, THAT Hyde. Curiously, Mr. Hyde looks very similar to the heroic Hyde of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, including the fact that he's all CGI and rather ape-like. No matter, here it works - Hyde is rendered beautifully in Gollum-like detail, and he is a frightening sight to behold. We get to see Van Helsing in action without being distracted by all the movie monster hoopla.

What we learn about Van Helsing is that he is a combination of several characters. He dresses like Vampire Hunter D (Sommers knows his anime). He swings along rooftops from his grappling hook like Batman. He is backed by a super-secret organization dedicated to monster hunting that supplies him with bleeding edge gadgets, just like James Bond. In fact, he even has his own Q (David Wenham, playing a friar named Carl). If Van Helsing sounds like he's a superhero, see my comments about pulp heroes above.

Oh yeah, the plot. The movie revolves around Dracula's quest to bring his undead progeny (the union of Dracula and his three brides) to life. "Vampires are the walking undead. It only makes sense that their children would be born dead." I'll let that sink in for a bit...got it? Sure you do. Throw in some nonsense about werewolves being controlled by Dracula and Frankenstein's Monster being key to said progeny's resurrection, and you've pretty much got the plot down.

The special effects are amazing. Dracula's brides get far more screen time than any other version of the movie and here they can transform into bat-winged harpies as well as their typically attractive forms. The werewolves are very much the werewolves of Underworld, including the ape-like ability to scale walls. Surprisingly, Frankenstein's Monster is not the shambling moron so many people are accustomed to. In physical form, he is a true monster, complete with flapping braincase and steam-powered leg. He's also a well-spoken person with a heart. Frankenstein's Monster has the best dialogue, and that's saying something.

The parallels to Underworld continue with Kate Bekinsale who is in both films. Kate plays the gypsy Anna Valerious, dedicated to destroying Dracula. Kate looks great in this film but doesn't have a whole lot to do but be the love interest. She also apparently sleeps in her corset, which must be awfully uncomfortable.

The movie plays fast and loose with its own logic, something that the pulp-theme cannot justify. Werewolves shift in and out of human form when the full moon is VISIBLE. The definition of visible is rather flexible. In fact, the full moon seems to be in effect for an entire week. Transylvanian horses can really leap tall bridges in a single bound. And apparently silver stakes work on everybody, including Dracula.

On the other hand, the movie makes some winking allusions to history. Van Helsing "fought against the Romans at Masada." The monster hunter's background, which I won't give away here, owes as much to biblical history as it does to Vampire Hunter D. And Mr. Faramir is hysterical as the funny man.

My dad really enjoyed Van Helsing. My wife thought it was stupid. I thought the movie was intentionally stupid and thus enjoyed it. And oh yeah, it had Kate Beckinsale.

Just one question: Where's the Creature from the Black Lagoon?

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Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic

Is it possible to have a game and a movie set in the same universe, and love the game more?

In this case, Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic harkens back to an era even earlier than the Star Wars movies. Thousands of years earlier to be exact.

The Mandalorians (the originators of the armor that Boba and Jango Fett wear) were still in power then. Just as the Jedi were fending the Mandlorians off, a major upset in the balance of power took place when Darth Malak and Darth Revan turned on their allies and returned from the Mandalorian War with a Sith fleet. Only one Jedi's "battle meditation" saved the fleet and now the Jedi are in shambles, the Sith run rampant, and Mandalorian bandits abound. Your mission is to find the disparate "Star Maps" that will ultimately lead to a world crushing machine of Armageddon proportions: the Star Forge. You must beat Darth Malak before he uses the Star Forge to destroy the Republic.

In this mix of high adventure are a host of characters (nine in total) range from Mandalorians to Wookies to druids, assassin and otherwise. Each character is carefully crafted and voiced by professional actors who do an excellent job with the material. And by professional, I mean movie talent: Ethan Phillips (Neelix of Star Trek: Voyager) and Ed Asner (uh...ask your parents). Given the number of possible responses in the dialogue, it's a truly massive task.

The game system should seem familiar to many - it uses the d20 pen-and-paper role-playing game system of the Star Wars RPG, with tweaks to make it easier to use for a computer game. The abilities blend seamlessly with the game play itself. I never felt at any time that I was playing a pen-and-paper game on a computer. Additionally, the game system uses Bioware's ever-evolving game engine used in Neverwinter Nights, which makes everything easy to use.

With multiple worlds that you can fly to at any moment, multiple characters (up to three active at one time), and a dizzying number of side quests, you simply can't get to them all. It doesn't matter though, because the metaplot rumbles along in the background every time you find another Star Map on another world.

The graphics and sound are exceptional. Sun glare flares on the game's camera and darkens your character's shadow. The controller trembles when large beasts are afoot (or worse, in combat!). The sounds are all taken from the movies, so lightsabers sound like lightsabers, aliens speak in their native tongues, and starships roar just like their cinematic counterparts. This is about as close to playing a movie as it gets.

The character development is worthy of mention. Your own character can be customized by body type, gender, and appearance. Your gender modifies the plot (males can fall in love with Bastila, the pretty Jedi mentor). All this uniqueness and yet the game never falters in dealing with it - your character's head never looks out of place in any of the cut scenes. Speaking of the cut scenes, they are all done with the same in-game animations, marinating the feel of the overall game play without stepping out of the action. And of course, your own character's background has a twist.

The NPCs have their own range of personalities. Unlike the current crop of Star Wars movies, there is a careful balance between the elegantly serious Jedi and their adventuring counterparts. Bastila provides a dose of class in the group as the somewhat taciturn Jedi master, but Carth is her balance, a gravelly-voiced war veteran who believes in the power...of a good blaster, that is. My personal favorites include Canderous Ordo, a grizzled Mandalorian of too many wars who loves a good fight. And of course, everyone loves HK-47. Like AK-47, only with an "H." That's right, HK-47 is an assassin druid with a mind of his own. HK-47 is fond of calling people "meatbag," except for his master...when he remembers his place.

There are plenty of old favorites too: Sand People, Banthas, Krayt Dragons, protocol druids, it's all here. If the characters don't remind you of Star Wars, the soundtrack will. It's true to the original score and in some cases, IS the original score. It's impossible for even the mildest Star Wars fan to resist.

All that, and there's a good old-fashioned subplot involving romance and betrayal, Light Side and Dark Side. This is the story Lucas dreamed but never truly brought to life.

The game is amazing in its flexibility. There are Light- and Dark Side choices in every conversation. You can solve puzzles or blast your way through plots, help NPCs or set them against each other. There are even logic puzzles that require the player to think, something I haven't been accustomed to doing in a long time.

There are flaws, but they're minor. In one case, I ended up killing a major NPC twice. There are puzzles that result in instant death failure, a no-no in game development. And combat is turn based: the player doesn't really determine very swing of the lightsaber, but rather the battle freezes and resumes as the player provides real-time strategy. Also, the game uses the same engine as Neverwinter Nights, which means it involves a lot of walking around talking to people. A LOT.

Still, this is one of the best computer role-playing games I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing. I was thrilled when my character's romance with Bastila flourished, devastated when I saw a father-son argument between Carth and his son Dustil, and I laughed at loud at some of the spontaneous character interactions.

Can a game be as good as a movie with the same setting? Nope.

It's BETTER. I got far more bang for my buck playing Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic than I got after two hours of special effects in the movies. In this game, the special effects at least had a heart.

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Kill Bill: Volume 2

I didn't like Kill Bill: Volume 1.

To sum up, it seemed like Quentin Tarantino wanted to introduce audiences to a variety of film styles at the expense of an actual plot. Using just about every trick in the book, Quentin did just that, introducing us to 70s Blaxploitation flicks, anime, and a bunch of other styles I couldn't identify. The anime was the most galling (both the actual animated short that had little relevance to the plot, and the attempts at live-action anime), as anime was meant to be a sort of shorthand for artists - the big eyes are easy to draw, the flashing movement means less frames, etc. Quentin took it and turned it into some sort of art form and then acted as if he owned it, only he didn't pull it off convincingly to folks who know their anime.

But Kill Bill: Volume 2 (KB2), makes up for it. Indeed, if the two movies had been edited down and put together, the whole thing would be a masterpiece. Instead, it's a film that's good enough to make me wish Quentin had taken the deep breath he took between the two films and edited them down into a cohesive whole.

So what does KB2 do right?

Quentin knows he had so much ridiculous violence in the first movie that it's probably still giving the Ratings board fits. So as a result, he uses the threat of violence to excellent effect. The katana that The Bride normally wields is almost never used - indeed, the big "sword fight" keeps getting interrupted by the fact that the sword isn't always the right tool for the job. Quentin lets us know that he KNEW he went too far in the first movie and it was to prove a point. I just wish the first movie hadn't taken so long to make it.

Like the first movie, Quentin takes the time to pay homage to other flicks. There's a delicious 70's Kung-Fu type flashback sequence with a white bearded, longhaired master. Everything's there, from the sword hopping to the waist dodging. Only this time I got it - I knew the films Quentin was mimicking and thought it was funny. Also, he didn't bounce around at high speed amongst so many movie styles that it gave me a headache.

As always, Uma Thurman gets to emote. She emotes rage, terror, and affection with great range. Her lines are gawd-awful, however (I'm still debating whether or not that's on purpose). Since there's less sword-fighting going on, Uma looks less ridiculous wielding her sword like it's an axe. Uma's utterly unconvincing as a martial artist, so this is a good thing.

There are a variety of parallels in the characters and their depth. Issues of motherhood vs. fatherhood, the well-being of a child vs. the violence a mother will go to protect said child, the ability to kill a man or let him ultimately kill himself, and even the theme of an eye-for-an-eye is present. Quentin covers a range of topics and makes you think, makes you aghast at the situation, and then drives relentlessly forward with his own conclusions. There are no hanging questions.

One word sums up this movie: focus. Quentin retains it, keeps it, and draws the audience in along with him, even through some very long conversations where no limbs are being sliced up like fine ham. If there's a flaw, it's that KB2 is a very different film and it's likely impossible that people will love both equally.

If KB1 was a series of flashy moves with no substance, KB2 is the gut punch that takes the wind out of you. Two thumbs up from Maleficent and I.

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Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Secret Window

Given that Johnny Depp is in Secret Window, I knew I was going to see this movie. Maleficent is a big Depp fan. Fortunately, I got something out of the deal - Maleficent agreed to see Dawn of the Dead without me even asking her. Did I mention I love my wife?

Anyway, I did not love this movie. In an amusing twist, not only did I not enjoy Secret Window, I wasn't paying attention enough to catch onto the plot twist. Maleficent did - in fact, she said she saw the whole plot twist coming a mile away. In my defense, I feel the movie was boring enough such that I wasn't looking that hard for the Plot Twist ™.

That, and the fact that there were two people in the movie theater who were possibly drunk, definitely movie hopping, and loudly whispering to each other throughout every potentially scary scene.

"He's in the closet," the female would loudly whisper, "I just know he's going to jump out and stab her."

"No he's not," says the male, "he's under the bed..."

I'm not sure if it's better or worse that they were wrong on EVERY count. Still, it completely distracted me from watching the movie. I seem to have this problem a lot (for more amusing anecdotes, see the throw down after Dawn of the Dead). But I digress.

Secret Window is standard Stephen King fare. Good ole' Mr. King is an expert at taking an everyday domestic situation and turning it into a supernatural, awful occurrence. Indeed, the events that take place are awful enough - the supernatural just speeds up the horrible process. And that process is the complete destruction of a human being.

The Stephen King Destruction Machine is in full effect in Secret Window. The main character, Mort Rainey (played with a multitude of character tics by the ever-experimenting Depp), is going through a divorce after his wife had a miscarriage. Worse, her caught her in bed with another man, a man she continues to date and who lives in "their" house. In fact, Secret Window has all the makings of an episode out of Cops, complete with wife beating, lawsuits, alcohol abuse, and houses being set on fire.

Secret Window only bothers with the third and fourth elements, the other two being curiously repressed. Indeed, much of Secret Window is bizarrely out of place. Mort lives in a cabin where there were happier times. In that cabin is a secret window. It's also where he goes to think. Let's call it the "secret window to his mind."

But Mort's not thinking. He's not writing. He's got the worst case of writer's block ever. Mostly, he sits on the couch and occasionally answers an old phone.

Why doesn't Mort have a cell phone? Well, cause that would screw up the plot in about five minutes. Much of the movie feels outdated without explanation for why it doesn't deal with modern plot elements (but Mort's laptop is definitely modern).

Secret Window has some beautiful symbolism, symbolism entirely on the part of the director and having very little to do with Mr. King. We flow through a mirror at one point of the film and then out again - that's Very Important. Indeed, if anything, Secret Window ranges from hackneyed to over-the-top-obvious.

Without giving away the plot, I can confidently say that Session 9 explored the same human depths of depravity, the same loss of self, the same murder mystery, only it did it much better. Session 9 kicks this movie's ass.

Ultimately, there's nothing GREAT about this movie, and that's a shame. It's always fun to see Johnny act (act, Johnny, act!) but his performance is but glossy paint on a rickety old movie that King built.

Collateral Damage

Someone decided that Arnie can't rely on his muscles alone (the man's pushing 50, for crying out loud) and made this movie. It is supposed to show off his acting skills. Arnie gets to cry, rage silently, bicker with sleazeballs, and Do the Right Thing (tm). All the while, he is a fireman out for revenge against a random terrorist act that obliterated his family.

Arnold's character is part McGuyver, part brawny fireman, part Punisher. He travels to Colombia on his own, surviving against all odds and his obviously foreign accent to...well to kill people. Only he learns that there are losses on both sides of any conflict. And he trades revenge in for the opportunity to save a little boy.

This movie stops just short of Arnie singing, "All we are saaaaying is give peace a chance" while holding two babies of different ethnicities in his arms. It's sappy, it's crappy, it's all over the mappy.

Okay, so I couldn't come up with an "appy" word. Point is, this is a mediocre film that would have been utterly ignored if it hadn't been for September 11. The director's commentary pumps up this movie to be of vital importance to American culture when in reality, it's a castoff of the cinema world.

In the end, Arnie takes on the bad guys with a fireman's axe. 'Cause he's a fireman. And stuff.

And oh yeah, there's a twist ending as to who the villain is. Yawn.

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Ocean's Eleven

Ocean's Eleven is cool.

I don't mean in the "wow it's really great you should see it" cool. I mean -- it's cool. The movie is genuinely cool. Watching it, you are convinced you probably look cool. Walking around with the DVD, you can imagine it will help you pick up chicks (it won't). But still, you can hope that the coolness inherent in this movie to rub off on you. It's THAT cool.

And with good reason. George Clooney. Brad Pitt. Bernie Mac. Matt Damon. Julia Roberts. That's a lot of slick actors in one package.

Clooney plays Danny Ocean, a recently divorced, recently released from prison con man. His ex-wife, who he is still very much in love with, has shacked up with a real creep -- an arrogant man who puts money before everything else. Danny sets out to get back at him in a rather extravagant way. He gets ten of his old buddies together and they take on the most outrageous heist in history.

The plot is about taking down not one, not two, but THREE casinos at the same time. It's full of manly, geeky fun. The movie doesn't take itself too seriously (how could it?), but the cast is obviously having so much fun that you can't help but enjoy yourself. I never saw the original -- but if it had half the charm this movie does, it must have been cool indeed.

Carl Reiner is excellent as a grumpy old conman. Shaobo Qin players a convincing acrobat (who doesn't talk much). There's two brothers who bicker all the time and you can't tell if it's part of the con or not. In fact, the whole movie plays with the audience -- is it really a con? Because of its playful tone, you forgive it for fooling you more than once, sometimes with the same trick.

The one weak point is Don Cheadle. He's a black guy playing a black guy with a...bizarre (Australian? Cockney?) accent. It sounds like me doing an accent. And I sound fake when I do it.

There are a few other moments that dim the glow of this movie -- Maleficent pointed out that Julia Roberts can't walk like a lady and apparently either no one's telling her or she just doesn't care. She stumps around onscreen like Lenny from the Grapes of Wrath. It's embarrassing. The director tries to compensate, but fails -- in one scene, she's supposed to be sashaying across the screen, but instead ends up gallumphing by instead. For such a pretty lady that's supposed to be a real class act, it shatters the illusion.

But that's me being nitpicky. This movie is excellent. For any guy who has ever wanted to be cool...or in this day and age, isn't sure what cool is in anymore...this movie will help guide the way.

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The Sum of All Fears

The Sum of All Fears is a much more disturbing picture than it might have been before September 11, but that just adds to the drama. I'm not a big Ben Affleck fan. And yet, I liked this movie -- there's a strong supporting cast (Morgan Freeman and James Cromwell, specifically) that makes me forgive Ben's blandness.

And of course, he's playing Jack Ryan, following in the footsteps of Harrison Ford and Alec Baldwin. It's fun to watch Jack develop. His inexperience here is refreshing, as he once again is put into combat situations he should never be in.

On the other hand, the movie wusses out. The bad guys are a coalition of Neo-nazis and other random weird, mean European guys. It just seems fabricated, which is odd when every other aspect of the movie strives to be so accurately detailed. I mean, it's like they gave us the Legion of Doom as a set of villains (psst, that's the worst fear -- the sum of all our little fears put together, get it?).

The plan is to force America and Russia into a war of escalation, by setting off strikes that appear to be initiated by the other side. We know now that, even after September 11 with a Republican President who uses words like "Dead or Alive" and "crusade" -- even HE didn't start lobbing nuclear missiles or even ordering strikes on other countries. Still, this is supposed to be a different time (precisely what time, we're not sure, but maybe it's the 1980s) and political tempers flare more easily.

Then there's the strange jiggery-pokery played with Ryan's background. If you watch the "making of" on the DVD, the director uses the words "franchise" and "reinvigorate" and...hyuk...hyuk...BLEEEEEARGH!

Sorry, I just threw up all over those terms. Obviously, continuity is sacrificed so that they can make more money off of Jack Ryan. He's in good company -- I mean, look what they did with Batman. Oh wait...

I do respect the decision not to show the nuclear explosion. The director manages to really keep the tension high. And the budding relationship between Jack and his future wife is believable. When characters die, we feel bad for them. All of that makes it a really good movie. Not the best of its kind, but really good.

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The One

Van Damme tried to do it in Timecop. Schwarzenegger tried it in The Last Action Hero. It seems every action hero has to eventually face himself. Literally, by playing his twin. Jet Li decided to get a head start by doing this movie relatively early in his career.

I really didn't expect much of this movie. The plot is complex: 125 parallel dimensions exist. A member of the Multiverse Bureau of Investigation accidentally kills one of his alter egos in a parallel universe and discovers that he becomes stronger, faster, and more powerful. Realizing that, if he kills all of his multiple selves, this process can make him a god, he goes off on a killing spree in the most egregious example of self-loathing this side of sci-fidom.

WAY too many critics put this movie down for its special effects. Specifically, that the effects mimic the Matrix. So what? Seeing Jet grab two motorcycles, one in each hand, and smash a man to death with them is a thrill. He kicks cops out of thin air, dodges bullets, and jumps across buildings. That's the best part of the movie.

The problem is, Jet Li just can't act. Or I should say, he can't act well. The plot demands a lot of him -- this is a rare instance of a script being better than the actor can handle. Jet Li is supposed to weep over his wife's loss, act in multiple roles as his multiple selves, display rage, hope, madness...more than most people display in a year. Jet can't do it. His English is quite good, but he simply doesn't have the range.

And in a movie all ABOUT range, Jet can't pull it off. But that's okay, what he does is some amazing martial arts, demonstrates really cool special effects, and provides a funky plot line that inspired me enough to want to run a mini-campaign in this setting (maybe I will, hmmm). That's the highest compliment I can give any movie.

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The Gift

Sam Raimi takes a detour from his blood and guts horror fare (that's Evil Dead, Evil Dead II, and Army of Darkness to you Mundanes) to create this spooky picture about a woman with the, well...the gift to perform tarot readings for the local townsfolk. The movie is most specifically about the deep south and its inhabitants. This movie taught me that apparently everyone living in the south is some kind of freakish, backward, ill-educated slob. Such a sad sack cast of characters provides plenty for Kate Blanchett's character to do as a result. Mostly, she acts as a psychiatrist.

More irritating is the use of completely non-Tarot-like reading. In a movie where Kate's character is perpetually harassed for her "Satanic" rituals of Tarot-reading, it's bizarre that an actual Tarot isn't used. Instead, we get the dumbed down version: symbols that represent the four elements, a star, a square, etc. The symbols are used to good effect -- when she reads the future of a murder victim, she draws four "water" cards. But really, couldn't they have used real Tarot cards? I expect a wee bit more daring from a guy who filmed an eyeball popping into a woman's mouth.

But I digress. The two outstanding actors in this film are Keanu Reeves and Giovanni Ribisi. That's right, you saw me type that correctly -- Keanu Reeves. Keanu has a typically vapid look about him that makes him a canvas for more complex stories. I call it the Kevin Costner effect. This is why he works so well in the Matrix -- he's bland enough to allow the ridiculously complex back story of the Matrix to swirl around him. But what's most startling is to see that vacuous stare used to startling effect in The Gift. Add a few pounds, give Keanu a shaggy beard, and his soft brown eyes become the cold glaze of a killer. Or at least, a wife beater. He pulls it off with terrifying menace. It made me want to rent The Watcher just to see if this was a fluke or due to Sam's influence.

Giovanni, of course, plays a psychotic. Gee, who would have thought, Giovanni playing a weird creepy guy! Still, he's like the Jack Nicholson of our era, because he does it SO WELL.

Ultimately, the movie was predictable. Maleficent and I tracked every single surprise, the twist ending, everything -- we mapped this puppy out in perfect detail and were never wrong once. Does this make it a bad movie? Not at all. Does it make it a great movie? Alas, not. Sam can do better. But we still love ya Sam.

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One Hour Photo

Robin Williams as a bad guy? Must be a joke, right?

No joke. Ever since I saw Robin play the angry dad, if only for a few seconds, at the end of Mrs. Doubtfire, I realized that he would make a really scary villain. And honestly, he's not even a villain in One Hour Photo (although the director really wants you to think just that). He's more of an anti-hero.

Williams' strength is that he's playing against type. We know he's a nut -- in a good way -- and expect him to burst out into show tunes at any moment. This just makes the bubbling cauldron of his emotions that much more compelling.

And oh yea, Williams supposedly played Dungeons & Dragons once or twice. Which makes me like him even more.

One Hour Photo's plot is simple: a photo clerk (Sy Parrish, played by Williams) at the local Wal-mart (er, Sav-Mart) sees things. Lots of things. Things he isn't always meant to see. He becomes obsessed with a family and has pictures of them all over his wall. It could happen to anyone -- it could be happening right now. Do you REALLY know what happens to your photos when you bring them in?

Things take a turn for the worse when Sy discovers, through his job, that not all is at it seems in said happy family. When he discovers infidelity -- that the image he clung to is in fact horribly tainted and all too real, he snaps. And as he snaps, we descend from the heavenly glow of the Sav-Mart's white lights to a dizzying kaleidoscope of hell.

The lensing is a primary character in this film: Greens, yellows, and reds (the color separation of photos, get it?) are all carefully lensed to give a surreal edge to Sye's rage, his madness, his sorrow. Colors are dissonant even though Sye himself is nearly invisible in his pastel clothes. His home is a stark, barren wasteland of color. The only thing that bothered me about the lensing is that the colors often seemed randomly placed -- something I have been trained by other directors to look for as a hint to further meaning in the movie (thanks to Spielberg and the red coat in Schindler's List and Shamalayan's red everything in Sixth Sense). But that's on purpose too, as there IS no meaning to Sye's world beyond the pictures he takes.

One Hour Photo is as much about the ideal American family that you see in department store catalogs as it is about Eleanor Rigbys of the world. For every American ideal, there is a flawed interior. For every pleasant, affable man, there is a demon waiting to be unleashed.

The ending is twisted and poignant, although some might feel it's a cop out. It explains Sye's history, why he so desperately needs a perfect family in his head, and why pictures hold so much affection for him. It also explains his subsequent violence and rage when said family cannot live up to his ideals. There's even a twist at the end -- something Maleficent picked up on but that I missed.

This is one of those movies that I didn't like nearly as much until thinking about it afterward. It's a classic depiction of suburban hell, an intellectual horror. It reminded me a lot of Session 9, only without the insane asylum.

See it, but don't expect a slasher flick (despite the trailers).

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The Wicker Man

This is a weird movie.

It's a good kind of weird, an anachronistic kind of weird, a religious hysteria kind of weird. But make no bones about it, this is not your average movie. Mundanes, move along.

Are they gone yet? Okay good. You're in for one hell of a freaky ride.

The Wicker Man is about an island, run by village folk who harken back to the old ways. And we're talking old ways: sucking on frogs to cure sore throats, dancing around maypoles, dressing up as fools, sacrificing maidens to keep the crops bountiful...oops, I've given away too much.

Enter an incredibly uptight, prudish, extremely Catholic, British police officer. Mix well. Add in some really bad 70s music, Christopher Lee, and a lot of bad photography and you get this movie. Which is not quite a horror movie, although it was released in the tradition of the Hammer horrors. Heck, to date, nobody really knows what to do with this flim. If you're a Christian or worship a non-traditional religion, this movie will likely rattle your cage. And it rattles cages in a good way, raising some thought provoking questions about who is in the right -- the religion that works for the majority, or the established hierarchy of the rest of the world. And really, who's the "established" religion anyway? Which came first -- the pagan chicken or the Christian egg?

What a lot of reviews don't mention is the rampant Anglocentricism throughout the film. We have a typical British officer casting aspersions on a Scottish community. For the American equivalent, it might be like a fundamentalist Christian minister visiting an all-black community. There's a lot of history there.

If said blacks suddenly started reenacting African rituals, most people (the reasonable ones anyway) might suspect it of bias. After all, African-Americans, just because of their heritage, didn't hop around shaking spears and dancing around flames. So why, then, are the poor Scottish folk shown as believing in all kinds of pagan beliefs, some of them randomly selected from other cultures?

To Americans, this may not seem like a big deal. To Europeans, or at least to the British, it might seem quaint. To anyone who is Scottish or pagan, it's blatant prejudice. I should know, Maleficent's a pagan, I'm a Roman Catholic, and we know all about the differences between the two religions. This movie does not.

At heart, the Wicker Man was an observation by Julius Caesar about the Gauls. See my Druid History article for more information. Julius was a conquerer, talking about people he defeated -- he was by no means an accurate representation of druidism. And modern Scottish people aren't any more affiliated with druidism than African Americans are affiliated with nature spirits.

The movie was a horror flick preying on the fears of the Europeans -- that Christianity DIDN'T WORK. You don't find that nearly as much these days in America. In the 70s, in Europe, this was a big deal.

However, given its background, we took the movie for what it is: a social commentary, a psychological horror, about the clash between modern and ancient times. As Carl Sagan pointed out in the Demon Haunted World...you can teach people that demons aren't real, but they'll just call them aliens instead.

This movie is worth seeing, if only to experience the crazy ending. But make no mistake: the snide British commentary about how great The Wicker Man is constitutes a good part of what makes this film a "horror."

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Identity

Ever see Memento?

Identity's like that. It takes place in another person's mind. It's disjointed. It tells the events out of order. The order of the movie's scenes gives insight into what's really happening. And of course, people die and nobody's sure who did it or how.

Identity is not quite as slick as Memento. It's choppy at parts, disjointed or just plain plays dirty pool in others.

10 strangers end up stranded in the rain at a creepy hotel. The laws of their world slowly unravel as they attempt to escape -- cell phones don't work, cars can't cross the flooded roads, and accidents happen that keep them from escaping the area and each other.

There's a lot of interesting characters. There's the cop and the serial killer con he's escorting to an execution. There's the limo driver who was once a cop. There's the hooker with a heart of gold. The couple who just got married because the girl's pregnant. The average family, complete with silent little boy and weird stepdad. The bitchy washed-up actress. And of course, the freaky hotel owner.

Everyone in the movie has a secret. The secrets unravel as things go from bad to worse and each person gets bumped off. Some of the deaths are accidents, some are outright murders. All of them leave the corpse with a hotel key, in the order of each person killed. Things get REALLY weird when the hotel keys starting showing up on corpses that died by accident.

If you haven't figured it out yet, the rest of this review contains a spoiler. It's the only way I can talk about the film with any candor. So kiddies who don't want the ending spoiled for them, leave the room.

Identity takes place in Malcolm Rivers' head. He has 10 personalities in there banging around and Malcolm is about to be executed for murder. Malcolm murdered a bunch of people at a hotel (six victims, I believe), stabbing them to death. But his psychiatrist submits that Malcolm is legally insane and that a new drug treatment will force the personalities to eliminate each other.

The premise of Identity is great. I also figured it out five minutes into the film. If you pay attention, the pictures in the first few minutes of the film -- along with certain phrases said by the patient -- are repeated by characters within the movie. In that respect, Identity is internally consistent. If you know that (and when I was watching this with my brother, he didn't catch it), the rest of the movie falls into place pretty quickly.

I couldn't help but feel the cut scenes involving the psychiatrist broke up the flow. I wanted a real mystery that strung me along and it felt like Identity thought I was too stupid to keep up.

And yet, Identity is definitely an expertly crafted work. There's even a surprise twist -- the dominant personality isn't who you think it is (SURPRISE!) but what's irritating is that while every other twist and turn can be figured out, the final twist simply can't be predicted.

In essence, the movie is internally consistent until it isn't, and I felt a bit betrayed by the way it ended.

On the other hand, the ending is delicious. It's grimly cynical but perfectly poised, a tribute to everything Hitchcockian and "Ten Little Indians" (which the film directly references). Identity loses points for not being perfectly consistent, but it's still a damn fine movie.

Oh yeah. John Cusack kicks ass in anything with him in it. That boosts a movie normally that would get a 4 from me to a 5.

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Bruce Almighty

When Bruce Almighty first came out, we skipped it. Although I do think Jim Carrey can be funny, he's a one-note joke. Like Adam Sandler and Will Ferrell, he's funny when the script matches his particular talents. When it doesn't...he's not.

There's something of a theme to Carrey scripts: a situation gives him the ability to be crazily elastic - The Mask, The Grinch, and Batman Forever being prime examples. He's a living cartoon. He makes funny faces. He's funny, get it?

Carrey IS funny. I loved him in the Mask, hated him in the Grinch, and felt bad for him in Batman Forever. Bruce Almighty falls somewhere in the middle - it has a theme with pretty serious implications but it never rises above a Jim Carrey vehicle where he gets to be goofy and make funny faces.

The problem with Bruce Almighty is that it's about faith minus the religion. Which is fine, except that faith is now apparently vague references to God, and that's about it. Call it Bruceology.

Which is fine, except Bruce HATES GOD. He doesn't seem to have a valid reason to do so - certainly, there's absolutely no evidence that he's been brought up to believe in God or even care what God thinks. So it's more than a little forced when Bruce begins stomping around claiming, "God hates me!" Bruce seems more like an agnostic or an atheist. But he sure isn't the type to feel God has a personal hatred of him.

You can probably guess what happens next: God gives Bruce God-powers over a series of blocks in Boston. What happens next is actually an interesting guide to role-playing a deity, but only gamers think that way. Basically, it's Bruce being selfish in spectacular, God-like fashion and imitating God from movies he probably never saw (and we didn't either). Bruce Almighty smacks of condescension in a way that makes you start to suspect the producers think you're a moron and won't really remember (or never saw) The Ten Commandments or heck, even read the bible.

And yet...and yet there is one moment in Bruce Almighty that almost made me pee from laughing so hard. Ironically, the humor comes from Steven Carell playing Evan Baxer, Bruce's archrival for the anchor position on a news show. Over the span of what seems like an eternity, Bruce turns Evan into a gibbering idiot, forcing him to shout in a long, drawn out howl "NEWWWSS!" as if her were afflicted with Tourettes Syndrome. It's something you shouldn't be laughing at...you feel guilty for laughing. But hell, I'm laughing about it now.

I've come to the conclusion that someone IMITATING Carrey is actually funnier than Carrey himself.

Bruce Almighty has its moments. But it's not as funny as it should be because it doesn't take the premise seriously enough to be seriously funny.

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Sorcerer

Sorcerer showed up in the mail via NetFlix and for the life of me I couldn't remember why I ordered it. One theory is that I thought it was a fantasy flick. The title has little to do with the movie itself and it's certainly not about fantasy sorcerers casting spells. Another possibility, and more likely, is that I was writing a review of Vertical Limit and someone mentioned that Sorcerer did it first.

It doesn't matter, I watched the movie anyway. And what I saw was alternately painful and enthralling.

Sorcerer is about four men down on their luck. Actually, that's an understatement. They're not just down on their luck; they're at the very rock bottom of their lives. They are each one step away from complete oblivion, be it at an assassin's hand or their own.

The movie starts out with little apology tracking these four independent threads. The first half hour of the film makes no sense because we don't know what we're seeing: one Frenchman businessman is ruined and flees the country; a New York wheelman crosses the wrong gang; a Middle Eastern terrorist bombs a dwelling; one is an assassin. They are all on the run from their respective countries.

They all end up in Vera Cruz, in South America, a stinking fissure in the earth. Naked children and dogs wander the streets. Everything is encrusted in dirt and the slime of sweat, rain, mud, and oil. The only place a man can find work is at the oil company upon which Vera Cruz depends for its survival.

An explosion sabotages the well. The oil burns and will burn forever unless it is covered - and that requires explosives. Of course, in the South American jungles the nearest cache of nitroglycerin has been festering for years and become highly unstable. It can't be lifted by helicopter, so trucks must carry it. One strong bump and the nitroglycerin explodes.

Finally, the movie gets interesting. We have four unlikable characters forced to work together. They must battle the elements, bandits, and human stupidity to ensure their cargo and their lives make it to the oil well intact.

If you recall Vertical Limit, the concepts were the same: different groups armed with nitroglycerin must brave nature and the elements for some noble cause. While not as gut wrenching as Vertical Limit, Sorcerer manages to inject pathos into the characters. They weep, they take desperate measures, and they become more noble as they rise to each crushing challenge.

Ultimately, all of them came to Vera Cruz to flee something else. Now that they have come to Hell, like Orpheus and Dante they must descend to its bowels to escape it. The journey with the nitroglycerin is their purgatory.

It's no surprise that few of the characters survive, but the movie goes one step further. The sole survivor finds solace in the dirt and horror of the town itself. In short, his journey to get enough money to escape was about selfish ends until he realizes that his struggles had purpose - he saved the town's fate, at least for a little while. His own life is precious. And so, he uses his last moments before leaving to dance with a haggard woman rather than make his escape. His redemption will not be satisfied with anything but his death.

And the name of the movie? Sorcerer is the name of the truck.

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Tuxedo Park: A Wall Street Tycoon and the Secret Palace of Science That Changed the Course of World War II

Tuxedo Park is a factual history lesson, in a vein similar to The Devil in the White City, only without the serial killer.

Tuxedo Park takes place a bit later, pre-World War II. It starts with the death of one of the scientists who used to visit Tuxedo Park, a veritable fortress of technology and leisure. The suicidal scientist posthumously published a fictionalized book about the goings on there and sold it as science fiction. It was so bizarre that of course, nobody suspected, although the primary subject of the novel, Alfred Loomis, knew better.

Alfred Loomis is the star of the story, a rich entrepreneur with an all-consuming, frightening intellect. He applies his own cold, nearly inhuman methodology to business and science and excels at both. Loomis is also charismatic and connects with people in a way that makes him irresistible. A veritable human whirlwind, he swept people up and sometimes left them broken and lost behind him, most notably his wife whom he tried to have committed and left for a younger woman.

Loomis invented electrocardiograms (those brainwave doohickeys that draw jagged lines as a patient sleeps) and radar and made fantastic leaps in refining the science of sonics and magnetics. If the book has a moral, it's that money brings freedom, and Loomis was the freest man on Earth. He developed what he wanted, hosted who he wanted, encouraged projects he felt had vision, and had enough influence to determine the course of events in World War II.

What's so striking is that the world needed Loomis. The author, Jennet Connant, makes striking connections that identify just how significant Loomis' contributions (and machinations) were in ensuring victory over the Axis powers. From the atom bomb to the British radar systems, Loomis' fingerprints are on them all. And it was through sheer force of will, coupled with his massive wealth that made things happen.

The book suffers from the same problems as Devil in the White City - some parts are more boring than others. It's entertaining to read about Loomis' inventions, but I had difficulty distinguishing between the various scientists. There are so many intellects that are hosted by Loomis that they start to run together; on the other hand, the book features a lot of familiar faces like Albert Einstein, Enrico Fermi, and others. Still, the physics and complexities of the inventions, along with the internecine squabbling drag in some places.

Perhaps the most exciting part of the book is when one British physicist embarks on a journey to bring all the technological advances of Britain to America with just himself and a trunk full of highly classified documents and devices. The thought of what could happen to that trunk (and how it nearly gets lost a few times) is nerve wracking and the makings of an excellent short story or role-playing adventure. It's the kind of scenario that is usually considered to be bad form by a writer - but it really happened.

Fortunately for us, the trunk made its way safely to America. The book really picks up as the devices Loomis raced to invent are finally implemented in the war. And then, when the action finally gets going, the book is over. There is definitely a feeling of the passing of something great that people could only look at indirectly and never touch - just like the intentional destruction of the Chicago World's Fair, Loomis Tuxedo Park is abandoned, his "rad lab" of scientists disbanded, only to backstab each other during McCarthy's "Un-American" committees. Worse, Loomis' divorce left his family sharply divided - like all things, Loomis treated his relationships with an intellectual clarity that was less a romance and more calculated odds. When Loomis felt his wife was not measuring up, she was discarded along with his other failed experiments. It dims, but cannot diminish completely, Loomis' personality.

Tuxedo Park is an impressive achievement. It manages to record the origin of the American scientist, the belief that technology is inherently good, and sharply frames the slow, lumbering bureaucracies that run everything from medical achievements to military advancements. In comparison, Loomis and his teams are breathtakingly nimble at a time when the world needed speed and decisive action most. It is an important part of history and a sharp reminder that rich men, should they choose, could do great good or terrible harm. Loomis was that rare combination of brilliance and wealth that creates freedom - an aberration not likely to be seen again in my lifetime.

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If Chins Could Kill: Confessions of a B Movie Actor

Just in case my biases weren't clear up front, I'm a big fan of the Evil Dead series (Evil Dead, Evil Dead 2, and Army of Darkness) and by proxy, the gents who worked on it (the Raimi brothers and Bruce Campbell). Bruce is known as THE MAN by fans. Watch Evil Dead 2 and you'll understand.

This is not to say that everything Bruce produces is gold. Indeed, he's slogged through a lot of crap to get where he is. Unfortunately, where Bruce is at this time does not involved huge piles of money, and if the returns on Bubba Ho-Tep are any indication, it's not going to happen any time soon.

But as Bruce would say - so what? If Chins Could Kill gives us an insight into Bruce's philosophy on life and his long, hard struggle from Michigan to Hollywood and back again. I was able to identify with much of Bruce's childhood because my wife grew up in the same area and I lived there for three years. Heck, I went to Michigan State University too (where Sam and Bruce first aired "The Happy Valley Kid").

That said, this book is a breezy read, chopped into chapters only as long as they need to be. Bruce talks about his life in such a way that you suspect he's not telling you everything - certainly, most of the personal stuff is left out except for the divorce from his wife. Even that is vague. Bruce wants us to think he's a well-meaning doofus, but he seems too shrewd and committed to his craft to have just stumbled into his career.

Fans who are familiar with the Evil Dead commentaries will find some of the recollections repetitive. Yeah, we all know about the locals who stole the power saw but not the thousand-dollar camera, or the Ram-O-Cam, or the reaction fans had to Evil Dead. On the other hand, there are little gems hidden here and there, most specifically when Bruce encounters a fox (the animal) and plays with it in the afternoon sun for a few hours. That chapter seems to sum up Bruce: a good-natured fellow who is nevertheless capable of taking advantage of the right situations at the right time.

Bruce's voice comes through in the narration, sometimes so informally that it's difficult to follow. He will often reference an acquaintance without any backstory and then talk about someone else in the next sentence. There's also a lot of pictures with supposedly funny captions - they're not that funny and since they're all in black-and-white, they're all very fuzzy. On the other hand, the (we can only presume) actual emails of various fans that start of each chapter are hysterical.

When Bruce isn't talking about his life (and some of the book does talk about his life, despite Bruce's disclaimer), he talks about the movie industry in a way that's valuable and informative. Here, we learn about movie etiquette, about movie stars who suck (hint: Tom Arnold) and just how capricious the casting process is.

Finally, the book has an addendum covering Bruce's "Chins Across America" tour. As a regular convention attendee myself, this part of the book was by far the most entertaining. It's also the least edited. Still, the fans are at least as entertaining as Bruce himself, and given that Bruce has worked in a variety of genres (fantasy, horror, westerns) his fan base is quite diverse.

Ultimately, Bruce's book is like his movies - it's a little rough around the edges but charming because of it.

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K-19: The Widowmaker

I became a fan of the "sub" genre after seeing movies like U-571 and The Hunt for Red October. While U-571 was sort of a pastiche of all the other submarine films that went before it, it made me an immediate fan. It also made me realize just how contrived spaceship movies are.

Unlike the other films, K-19 - The Widowmaker is about a real incident (like the supposed Red October incident) in which a Russian nuclear submarine's reactor nearly had a catastrophic meltdown just off the eastern coast of the United States in the 1960s. Scary stuff.

As a result of this gritty reality, K-19 is powerful in a way that Titanic was powerful. It doesn't matter if the movie isn't quite realistic - the events are so horrible that tension is rife throughout the film. Or at least, it should be.

K-19's initial launch is a debacle. In short, the submarine never has a chance to be successful - the men are inexperienced and costs are cut, such that K-19's crew is lucky that it even works at all. Add in the ship's doctor getting run over by a truck, the failure of the christening bottle to break against the sub's hull, and the firing of the chief engineer and it's hard to disagree with the notion that the ship is cursed.

The new captain aboard Alexei Vostrikov, played by Harrison Ford, pushes the sub to its limits. The tension rises as he forces the crew to do random drills, forces it to dive to near crushing depths, and rise right through the arctic ice. This by far is the most exciting part of the film - there is no enemy except Vostrikov, and it's nail biting after witnessing the poor construction of K-19. Ultimately, K-19 fires its test missile, signaling a message to America that the Russians could launch a nuclear strike if they wished.

Then the sub is pushed to its limits once again, beyond what even Alexei could have feared. They are to patrol the eastern seaboard, right near a NATO base. The ship's original captain, Mikhail Polenin (Liam Neeson) disagrees. Indeed, he disagrees with everything Vostrikov does because he puts the men at risk. I couldn't help but feel contempt for Polenin, who seems so attached to his crew that he no longer has the stomach for war. I'm not sure if that was the director's intent.

Unfortunately, the second half of the film drags. The ship's engines begin to overheat and the inexperienced chief engineer concocts a plan to pipe coolant into the system from the ship's freshwater tanks. Failure means a nuclear explosion "a hundred times worse than Hiroshima."

And so we have a long, slow, miserable, sometimes disgusting foray into the effects of radiation poisoning on the human body. The men who go in have naught but chemical suits rather than radiation suits to protect them. That is, they have no protection at all. So they are exposed for 10 minutes a time in an attempt to minimize the radiation poisoning.

Not only doesn't that tactic works, the radiation leak spreads throughout the submarine. Alexei's choice: accept help from the Americans and save the men or sacrifice his crew to retain Soviet secrets. This decision takes a loooong time to resolve. The movie loses a lot of its momentum, almost becoming a different film that's a lot more like The Andromeda Strain.

What was most striking about this part of the film was how it's been cribbed in other genres. I couldn't help but be reminded of Wrath of Khan, my favorite Star Trek film. Similar to K-19, an officer takes it upon himself to enter the highly lethal radiation chamber in order to "sacrifice the few to save the many." It's chilling to imagine that real human beings had to make that choice. It certainly changed my perspective on Wrath of Khan. I'm not sure if that's a good or bad thing.

Ultimately, the Russians on board were treated like traitors instead of war heroes. The men weren't fighting any enemy but the politics of Russia itself, and as such they could never leave the disaster of K-19 as heroes. The movie wraps up with what happened to them afterwards, after the fall of the U.S.S.R. At least 27 of the crew died from radiation poisoning.

K-19 is a depressing movie that is torn between being an action submarine flick like U-571 or a disease epidemic battle for survival like Andromeda Strain. It's not as good as either film, but the fact that it's based on real-life events leaves a chilling reminder that sometimes reality is far worse than anything Hollywood can dream up.

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Ice Age

Ice Age had the unfortunate timing to be released at the same time as Monsters, Inc. The plots are quite similar: creatures whose livelihood depends on their conflict with humanity accidentally acquire a human child and must return him or her to his home. Monsters, Inc. does it better.

That said, Ice Age tries very hard, and I found myself unwilling to brush it off as just a cheap version of Monsters, Inc. The animation isn't as good. The voice acting isn't as good. The script isn't as punchy or funny. And John Leguizamo is, if this is possible, even more annoying as a sloth.

The animation is good enough to make the characters look like muppets but not so good that you're really drawn into the movie. There are moments of ice reflection and water rippling that scream, "LOOK AT HOW COOL OUR ANIMATION IS" -- and they are oddly disjointed from the rest of the movie's cartoony animation. To Monsters, Inc.'s credit, you never stop and gawk at the graphics in the background even though they're vivid and colorful.

Surprisingly, the best voice acting comes from Ray Romano, of Everybody Loves Raymond fame. His brooding mammoth is compelling and a little sad. There's also a funny ice slide scene that's entertaining. There are also some very sad moments, like when the mammoth stares at a cave painting and relives the death of his family. Which explains why a mammoth is willing to take care of a "pink thing" (the baby) and return him to his family.

And yet, Ice Age does not act on the strength of its convictions. In Monsters, Inc. when the bad guys are acting bad -- they're really bad. They mean to do bad things to children and even though they never pull it off, the audience is afraid that it will actually happen. In Ice Age, the threats should be twice as realistic. Although the movie actually has more violence and danger, it ultimately cops out: the mother of the baby just disappears into a fast moving stream (off camera, no less). Diego, the sabretoothed tiger who realizes he likes his new friends more than his own pack, seems to die and then -- SURPRISE! -- limps onto the scene at the end of the movie to joins his new "herd." Ugh.

In short, Ice Age is a first time effort for a production house that's not as mature as Pixar. Not cute enough, not compelling enough, not funny enough. But close.

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Murder By Numbers

Murder by Numbers is a neat concept. What if people who know all about murders decide to commit a murder? Pretty cool, huh?

And what if they were high school students?

Alright, that seems strange. It actually makes it creepier -- the high school students are definitely Columbine types, the kind who have somehow strayed so far from society (and yet right under our noses) that they are no longer capable of empathy. In the case of Murder by Numbers, the two main characters -- in a relationship with mildly homosexual undertones -- decide to prove they are truly free by intentionally committing murder.

It sounds better in the movie than in print.

The woman assigned to this case is Cassie Mayweather, played by Sandra Bullock. Let me state my bias up front: I really like Sandra Bullock. Her button-nosed cuteness allows me to forgive her when she makes crappy movies like Miss Congeniality. She had me at The Net.

But you've got to be realistic even about the actors you like. And Sandra's just out of her league here.

Like Jet Li in The One, this is a complex plot that requires a range of acting abilities that Sandra simply doesn't possess. She's supposed to be a woman with a dark past, a near-death murder victim, a survivor of physical abuse, a licentious woman who sleeps with her partners at a whim. This is not Sandra. And usually, Sandra plays movies around her own carefully cultivated movie personality.

In short, this movie requires actual acting.

She can't do it. Not for lack of trying. But Sandra comes off as cutesy flirtatious when she's supposed to be a maneater. She comes off as an agitated socialite with a headache rather than a down and dirty cop who was nearly stabbed to death. She's much more victim than survivor.

And of course, what Sandra does best is play the victim. She survives, but she's not a SURVIVOR.

The ending has a twist. It's not a great twist. The movie is creepy, but not fast enough to pull it off. The actors who play the high school students are disturbing, but they are not so competent to make it genuinely horrifying.

Slow. Plodding. Not genuinely real enough characters to make us worry about them or believe their plight. A workman-like effort, but not Sandra's best work.

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Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines

I pride myself on my ability to sniff a bad movie out before it hits the screens. After seeing so many movies, reading so many magazines (like Time, Entertainment Weekly, and Cinescape) and listening to so many interviews, you start to realize before a picture even hits the theaters when something is wrong.

I'm also a big fan -- I helped create the Terminator: Future Fate D20 Modern campaign setting. What, you haven't gotten a copy? It's free! Go! Go right now and get it (under Freebies)!

With Terminator 3, my Spidey sense was tingling.

The majority of interviews all centered on "how great it is to work with Mr. Schwarzenegger." Uh huh. That's nice. Whenever a director talks about how great the movie is, I get suspicious.

Then there's the, "we've made a new Terminator and she's a BAAAAAAAABE!" This idea already hit the comics and novels. But really, why? Why make her a beautiful woman? Is this going to be The Hidden all over again? The Hidden was great -- but it gave a reason for why the bad guy took on a luscious female form. And don't even get me started on calling her a Terminatrix.

And why bring Arnie again? My idea, which was used in the Terminator series of novels out now, was to have Arnie play himself as a human character in present time who is the model for Terminators. Glad S.M. Sterling agrees it's a good idea.

So, with all those thoughts going through our heads, Maleficent and I took in a matinee. Whenever we suspect a movie might suck, we go to a matinee so we don't feel like we were suckered. And...

We were pleasantly surprised. Terminator 3 is really quite good. It is not as good, in my opinion, as Terminator 2. Maleficent liked Terminator 3 better (she hated the squeaky punk in Terminator 2).

This movie follows a T-X (get it, Terminator-X or Terminatrix, although that's a term used only by Connor) who has gone backwards in time to kill all the lieutenants of John Connor since Skynet can't find him.

Right away, we know something is different. The T-X has a blue lighting scheme. Her interface looks more like a Windows environment than the old red-code Terminators. She moves with the same eerie patience that the T-1000 did. For the most part, she's expresionless. When she reacts at all, it's disturbing. A scary, beautiful woman. Go figure.

The reason for the change is because the future has changed. Skynet's birth came and went. If you saw the last two movies, the world was supposed to have gone to nuclear war already. But thanks to Sarah, Judgment Day didn't happen. Not yet, anyway.

Arnold is unbelievably bulked up. I thought maybe they digitally inserted his head on a younger man's body. Nope -- it's him. Naked. 50 years old and the man is bulked. I fear anyone dating his daughters (does he even have daughters?).

The movie doesn't take itself too seriously. It focuses on the chase scenes, the running combat between the two Terminators, and the slow recognition of the whole scary plot by Kate Brewster, John's future wife.

The movie makes several propositions, which I found interesting. For one, it implies that history is self-correcting. Although John didn't meet Kate right away, he met her again a decade later anyway. Although Skynet wasn't built as a mechanical fortress, it was created as a virus over the Internet instead. In short, the future is NOT what you make of it. It all HAS to happen. It's just a matter of WHEN.

The director, Jonathan Mostow, recognizes his core audience. We've all seen Terminator 2. We know how Arnie got his clothes last time. This time, he walks naked into a bar with another fat guy with another shotgun guarding the entrance...and he says without blinking an eye, "You're early, go around back." Now the audience is confused. Why isn't he surprised Arnie's naked? We get the answer in a strip club for ladies who are hooting and shouting at the stripper on stage -- who just happens to match Arnie's dimensions. You've got to appreciate a movie that's willing to laugh at itself.

Although it has an "R" rating, this movie isn't that gory. The moments of possible nudity are actually covered up (no, you don't get to see frontal nudity on the Terminatrix). Almost like they were trying hard to make it acceptable for parents to bring their kids to see it. Hmmm.

The ending is very well done. I say this a lot -- this is one of those movies that had the strength of its convictions. There's a logical, unpopular conclusion to the events going on in Terminator 3. The movie embraces them.

If you're looking for a good popcorn movie and want to see robots beat each other up, this is a film worth seeing. If you're a Terminator fan and want to see more adventures set in the wild and wacky timeline that is constitutes the Terminator universe -- this is a MUST SEE.

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The Thing: A Novel

The Thing has gone through some interesting evolution from its original story, "Who Goes There?" In Who Goes There?, 30+ men working at a Cosmic Ray facility in the Antarctic discover, well, a thing. And that thing is part disease, part animal, part predator. It's a mimic that can replicate any form. And it has a desire to propagate. If it escapes from the facilities in the frozen wasteland, it will spread to humanity and ultimately take over every living thing in the world, all of them part of the original creature.

I had the privilege of reading the short story, the novelization, and watching the movie all within the span of a few days, so the differences and similarities were fresh in my mind. There are quite a few significant changes between the book and the movie, and the short story and the book.

Did I mention the men have cattle down in some weird storage facility? Cattle? I get the impression the original author never visited an Antarctic facility -- but hey, that's why it's called science fiction.

The short story is much more about the paranoia of men cooped up in close quarters, than about the alien itself. Everyone's too damn jovial -- they smirk and grin about everything even in the face of danger. It's all very pulpy too -- McReady is a "bronze god." He's strong, he's smart, and gosh darn it, everybody likes him!

In the short story, combat is so brief that in one case, it took several readings to recognize the men had attacked another transformed Thing. They "do their work" -- that sums up over a dozen men hacking a Thing to bits.

On the other hand, a lot of questions that I've seen on web sites dedicated to The Thing are explained. Do you know if you're a Thing? Yes, according to the short story. In fact, The Thing is telepathic -- that's how it can gain instant knowledge of everything about a person and imitate them so well. It also explains how the Thing is always one step ahead of the men in the movie.

I like to think of the short story as a summary of what happened to the Norwegians.

The novelization, extrapolated from the original script of the film, is one of those rare books that's better than the movie. There are less characters than the short story, but they react much more realistically. They are all seriously flawed (far more than the morons from Who Goes There?). Most importantly, the presence of guns heighten the tension.

The novelization makes the movie make more sense. Most specifically, the dogs don't run away from the Thing -- they attack it. This changes everything. The dogs become infected and run off, only to be chased by McReady and Childs. It's a shame the scene wasn't included -- it gives a hint of just what the Thing can do. It also explains how the Thing can be so large (another FAQ about Things).

One character (was it Saunders?) uses his roller skates to race for his life against the Thing as it plows behind him, only to get trapped in the bathroom and ultimately kill himself with a sharpened piece of wood.

There's a lot more discussion, but I understand why much of it was cut down. There's also better emphasis in the movie than in the book -- HOW the actors say their lines changes everything.

The most important discovery is that the Thing takes ONE HOUR to change into something else. This simple number changes the entire tone of the book. With a hard and fast rule, the character's paranoia and reactions are tempered by the knowledge that they have time on their side. Very different from the movie.

If you're a fan of the movie, buy the book.

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8 Mile

Okay, so like, Eminem is a poor white rapper on the wrong side of town in Detroit. The roads are numbered, and 8 mile is the bad area where the prostitutes are. I know this, because Maleficent lived near (but not in 8 mile, heavens no!) there.

Apparently, there's a whole rap culture going on. Eminem, playing a guy named Rabbit, finally starts to realize that the world he lives in sucks. Actually, he's always known that, but he was embarassed about it. The movie is about him coming to terms with who he is and where he comes from.

And that's about it. For the most part, 8 Mile is a very clean movie. It has all the same plot of a Rocky movie -- poor guy competes against big winner against all odds. Big bad winner has an outside-of-the-competition conflict with underdog/protagonist. There's a girl from whom the protagonist draws his strength. And he has friends who are faithful to him to the end.

There's some important differences. In this movie, the girl is actually sleeping her way to the top. But the movie recognizes that her way is just as valid as anyone else's to get out of the hell hole they live in.

Additionally, the whole final contest -- a freestyle showdown involving rap -- is basically meaningless. Winning isn't about the admiration of people who could give a crap if Rabbit lives or dies. It's about him finally putting his demons to rest by admitting he's white trash. Rabbit draws upon the raw ugliness of his background to pull himself up by his bootstraps -- not his girlfriend, not his family, and not his friends.

And for that, you can respect Rabbit. At the end of the movie, he doesn't go on to become a rapping champion or getting that sweet record deal. He goes back to work.

Formulaic? Yes. Is Eminem a great actor? Hardly. But the movie doesn't try to be more than it is, and for that it earns my respect.

The only thing that seriously mars it is Eminem's "I'm friends to all the gays" rap. His gay pal covers for him at work and Rabbit defends him with his rap.

If you've forgotten, Eminem was seriously slammed for his homophobic lyrics. Eminiem seems to be trying to say that's part of his language. In other words, it's not that HE'S homophobic, it's just part of his speech. Which is complete and utter crap. Reality is, the culture he comes from is homophobic, and that's just the way it is. Ironically, in trying to pretend he recognizes his roots, Eminem rejected the ugly parts.

Please -- those moments in the film reminded me that this is a movie whose sole purpose is to perpetuate the myth and legend of Eminem. A black mark on an otherwise servicable film.

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Mercury Rising

There was an article about a script writer's journey in getting his picture made. I sympathize with the guy. He was down on his luck, his rent was three months overdue, and his wife was getting seriously pissed off.

The plot of his script was simple. It was about an autistic boy named Simon who can read the secret codes embedded in crossword puzzles. In other words, he took a common urban myth and wrote a script about it. Not original, but certainly compelling. Add Bruce Willis to the mix and you have a big budget movie.

Then one day, his agent called. He was nervous. A major studio was offering a six figure number for the movie. When other movie studios heard about it, a war of escalation ensued. Soon, they were trying to outbid each other. The price kept climbing and climbing and climbing.

Finally, the agent had enough. The script was sold. Presumably, the scriptwriter got to stay married and pay off his rent. And, I hope, socked the money away into savings. Because this movie sucks.

The movie went through several title changes, a sure sign that there's a problem. It was originally supposed to be Simon Says, but the execs changed it because nobody knew what that meant. So they changed it to Mercury Rising instead. As Dr. Evil would say, "Riiiight."

There's a few problems. One of them is translating onto screen the depiction of code. Apparently, the movie decides code decryption sounds like a high-pitched whining sound. Perhaps it's an accurate parallel, but it's not fun to listen to.

Simon's autism is depicted a little too accurately. His parents are killed early on, so Simon's on his own and fairly incapable of doing much besides wailing his head off when touched. This is very accurate. This does not make for a pleasant movie.

Willis' character is the usual -- haggard, determined, violent. He isn't much more than that. He gets tangled up in the plot (FBI vs. "Government Bad Guys") and calls in favors.

The bad guys show a distinct lack of common sense. It's so blithly nonsensical that it's not even worth the energy to describe the inconsistencies. Suffice it to say, the bad guys show a boogeyman-like ability to pop up anywhere when convenient, and a surprising inability to do it when it might impair the protagonist.

What bugged me most is that ultimately, this movie could have been about ANYBODY who happened to know Something Secret (TM). It wasn't about the boy's ability to crack code, it was about Bruce Willis' character protecting an innocent. Like in Eraser. Like in Enemy of the State. Like in a dozen other movies. Only in Enemy of the State, the main character's skills actually were USEFUL in the plot. Simon never gets to exercise his code-cracking abilities more than once (to meet one of the soon-to-be-dead informants).

Even in portraying an autistic person, Rain Man and Cube still managed to make the character worth liking instead of utterly pathetic.

The other problem is that the villain's execuse is -- *GASP! -- being a patriot to protect undercover agents in Iraq. Well, that dates the movie just a little bit. Not their fault, necessarily, but certainly the movie loses its sting. In addition, the whole concept of "sacrificing one for the good of all" is a little more strict these days. Ask an American if an autistic boy's life should be spared to save thousands of agents attempting to stop terrorism and more than half will doom the boy.

I can understand why the studio execs bid on the idea. It was a great concept but utterly defanged of any real meaning, failing to utilize its characters, its high-minded ideals, or even its action scenes in a way that makes us care about anybody in the movie. Yes, even an autistic little boy.

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Underworld

When I first saw the trailer for this movie, I and a thousand other gamers thought it was based off of the World of Darkness (WOD), published by White Wolf. In short, the World of Darkness is like our world only, uh, darker. And grittier. And full of angst.

Vampires and werewolves dominate the WOD. There's changelings, wraiths, and demons too. Normal humans? They're pretty much cattle.

Vampires and werewolves don't get along. Vampires are city folk, werewolves are country folk. Vampires like to be clean cut, werewolves like long hair and scruffy beards. Vampires hang out in old mansions drinking blood out of champagne glasses, werewolves beat the crap out of each other for fun in subway tunnels. Get the idea?

Not surprisingly, vampires are "winning" the war. Three elders oversee the vampire race (at least, in Europe), and one is awakened every so many centuries to lead. The movie takes place in the interim between vampire elder shifts. Kraven, the intermin vampire leader, is a turncoat who makes a deal with Lucian, the werewolf leader. Collectively, they intend to create an "Abomination" -- a serum that will turn Lucian into a werewolf/vampire hybrid. All other attempts to create such a hybrid have failed, but since vampires and werewolves supposedly share a common ancestor, mixing the two lines shouldn't be impossible...

Enter Michael Corvin, who has the gene to transform into a vampire/werewolf hybrid. A Wampire? A Verwolf? A Vampwolf? Nobody knows, but he looks like Nightcrawler when the transformation is through.

But I'm skipping ahead. Somewhere in all this messy plot is Selene, a Death-Dealer. Death-Dealers deal death to werewolves (duh). Of all the stupid names, "Death Dealer" has to be the worst. That's right up there with calling your fighter a "Sword Wielder" or your cleric "Healing Guy."

Selene (played by Kate Beckinsale) has a few things going for her. For one, she's hot. For another, she wields two automatic pistols. And for a third, she's a vampire. This makes her the goddess of all geek fantasies.

Am I oversharing? Ahem.

Selene was turned into a vampire by Viktor, one of the three elders. She is loyal to him (like a daughter to a father, the movie's VERY clear that it's not sexual). Only, it turns out Viktor killed her parents before turning her.

So for the most part, this movie is about a big build up to a mano-a-mano battle between Viktor the Elder Vampire and Michael the Half-Vampire/Half-Werewolf. Follow so far?

There's a few problems with the movie, not the least of which is that the sound was cranked up to eardrum twanging levels. I spoke with my parents, who also saw this movie, and they had the same complaint. This probably has to do with the enormous amounts of gunfire that place throughout the film.

Despite the completely unrealistic combat scenes, the movie seems to take great pride in showing characters reload their weapons. This is a little odd, as the automatic pistols themselves are fantastic conventions. Why show this at all?

Because on some level, it's as much about Gun Fu as it is about vampires and werewolves. Selene runs around in PVC firing at werewolves. She does that for most of the movie. There's not a whole lot of room for pacing, but a good Gun Fu movie knows that it has to give the audience a break. What better way than to reload a weapon?

The reloading -- and the infatuation the director has with filming it -- made me think of Equilibrium, the greatest gun flick of all time. Just as people compared Equlibrium to the Matrix (an unfair comparison), Underworld is a lot like Equilibrium meets Dark City. There's unbelievable shootouts, the main character is a death dealing machine (sort of like Equilibrium's Grammaton Clerics), everybody dresses in black, it's flimed with a gray lense, and the movie is about bucking the rules for love -- of one's family and of one's self.

Underworld also takes for granted, probably due to time contraints, that we all know what vampires and werewolves are. Which is funny. While they are definitely recognizable characters, they are not necessarily recognized the same way by the same generation.

Take, for example, my mother's interpretation of the movie. She was shocked that 1) vampires could bear children, 2) Selene could see herself in her reflection, 3) vampires displayed no vulnerability to water. And yet, they can leap onto ceilings and cling to them like spiders. I took all of this in stride, because I'm accustomed to the "de-fanging" of Anne Rice's vampires. This is now the fourth generation vampire: Nosferatu -> Dracula -> Lestat -> Selene. What you end up with are pale, superstrong, pretty people with fangs. They don't even drink blood. The vampires figured out how to clone it.

Which really makes the vampires the good guys. In comparison, the werewolves are dirty, violent, and come off as more than a little churlish. They're the lower class to the vampire upper class, and indeed, werewolves were the servants of vampires. So everybody wants to be a vampire and nobody really wants to be a werewolf.

Just like the evolution of vampires, werewolves have evolved. They no longer need to change during a full moon. Not only that, their organs regenerate. And they can run along walls and ceilings (not sure where that came from). Lon Chaney, Jr., if you could only see your progeny now!

The movie drags in parts, but perks up near the end with the titanic battle between Viktor and Michael. Unfortunately, Michael isn't given much to do other than freak out. His character development is almost nil in comparison to say, Selene, who gets to cry and pout and the aforementioned blowing the crap out of werewolves.

I liked Underworld, but it's because I'm biased. I also like the idea of the World of Darkness that the creators no doubt abhor -- Gun Fu style, monsters using their superhuman abilities to blow each other up. I mean, who doesn't like that?

This movie is violent and a little gory. Vampires and werewolves are not kiddie fare anymore!

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Batman Vengeance

Batman: Vengeance looks just like the cartoon, including the voice actors and designs. This game takes place after the cancellation of the Batman cartoon series. That's the latest incarnation -- not the original series, but the slimmer, darker version of Batman that incorporated designs from the movie. For those of you who didn't follow along, Batman lost Robin and only had Batgirl as a sidekick.

Batman: Vengeance, starts out right. You are immediately thrust into play as Batman slides down a slippery slope with an explosion behind him. The player doesn't have a whole lot to do -- for the most part, Batman's going to make it regarless if Batsy slides to the left or right -- but it got me excited about the game.

Batman's got a compelling plot, including Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy and Mr. Freeze, led by the Joker (voiced by "I used to be Luke Skywalker" Mark Hamil). The Joker maneuvers Batman into release the right combination of chemicals in an effort to stop other villains. By manipulating Batman into these situations, he inadvertently mixes a dangerous concoction that threatens Gotham.

Things look a bit different because the characters are rendered in three dimensions, which is different from Superman: Shadow of Apocalips. So the characters look similar, but they're not quite right.

Batman has a multitude of tools at his disposal, including the Batmobile and the Batjet. Batman vaults around the city with his batgrapple, throws batarangs, and uses his cloak as a defense as well as a means of gliding from place to place. Which is important, because Batman fights on a lot of rooftops and ledges -- death from falling happened a lot.

The game takes itself seriously. Joker, Harley, and their cronies play for keeps. They shoot machineguns, try to push you off ledges, and otherwise kill you. True to the cartoon, the bad guys fight dirty and it's up to Batman to use his formidable abilities to overcome his disadvantage -- ya know, not having a gun.

Batman is well-rendered, but there were some graphic flaws. There is a "snap to" function that allows you to recenter the camera, facing the way Batman's facing. This is less of a good use of the camera as it is a lazy fix to a problem that is problematic for too many games. Unfortunately, it snaps so quickly that sometimes I became disoriented by the new angle. Additionally, the camera is an object and will bounce off walls, forcing itself literally inside Bat's head. Which looks weird and doesn't help the perspective if Batman is against a wall.

Batman also has some clipping bugs. In at least two different cases, Batman froze in space after getting trapped on the corner of a three-dimensional object. Then he couldn't leave it and I had to start over. Batman: Vengeance only saves when you IT wants you to. You have to finish the board to get to that point, which makes for an either frustrating or easy experience, depending on your level of skill.

By far the best part of the game is fighting my favorite villain, Mr. Freeze. Sure enough, Freeze cannot be fought in hand-to-hand combat (if you've ever seen Batman try, you'll understand) and it requires some crafty maneuvering. There are a multitude of mini-games that test your skill and your brains. Although none are particularly hard, they help break up the gameplay. There are puzzle games, the aforementioned Batmobile and Batjet games, and some other puzzles.

This is good, because barring the unique villains (including Mr. Freeze's Eskimo chickies, Poison Ivy's root-men, and the Joker's mimes), there isn't too many bad guy types. The villains do, in typical movie fashion, stop shooting once Batman engages one of their comrades in melee, politely waiting until he goes down to resume firing. They also react to their surroundings, listening to noises, reacting to their allies socking one to Bats (they cheer), and falling off ledges. Yes, you can actually knock someone off a building and watch them plunge to their death. Now THAT'S Batman!

Overall, Batman: Vengeance is an excellent balance of puzzles, action, and style. It was a great opportunity to return to the cartoon I enjoyed so much.

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Timeline

I read the book, Timeline, back when the game came out for it. Oddly, the game came out far too early - perhaps Timeline was supposed to come out much earlier as well. It probably doesn't help that the French are the good guys in this film.

From the looks of the poster for Timeline, the advertising team didn't know what to do with it. Why in hell they didn't make it look like Lord of the Rings, I have no idea. But instead, we get a weird looking shot of a bow with a flaming arrow that also happens to have a timeline superimposed over it with some vector-like graphics. In short, it doesn't look medieval, or science fiction-ish, or Lord of the Rings-ish. It looks like crap, and that's a shame because Timeline is not crap.

The plot is convoluted but essentially involves what I like to call Medieval Park. It's like Jurassic Park, only it involves knights. A rich billionaire wants to create a theme park that literally is a window into another time rather than genetically created dinosaurs. The concept is the same: rich guy plays with human lives in a supposedly safe environment - only it's not safe and ultimately the rich moron's arrogance is the death of a lot of people. This does not detract from the entertainment value of the movie, which hews closely to the book with a few exceptions.

The story begins with archeologists in a boring field, showing students why it's not boring. Just like Jurassic Park's paleontologists. In this case, the real skeptic is the older son of the chief paleontologist. Their dig is around Castlegard and a guy who looks suspiciously like an evil Bill Gates funds it. Okay, that would make him a good Bill Gates. Let's just say he seems oilier and geekier than usual, a credit to the actor.

The plot hurdles along as a wide variety of characters travel through time, including a historical reenactor, a pretty love interest, a marine or two, and a French guy. Things of course have already gone awry, which is why our protagonists are called in to save the day - and then things get screwed up even worse.

There are a lot of characters and a lot of details that connect to each other in the past and present. The movie itself skips back and forth, detailing the action in medieval times as well as the panicked arguments of scientists in the present. The pacing is a little off at times, but the movie manages to interject quite a bit of excitement into what could otherwise be a drab, "look at the peasant woman carrying sticks!" (to quote Time Squad).

Fortunately, that's not necessary, because medieval times were sufficiently exciting without embellishment. Unfortunately, a lot of the startling details in the book are lost in the movie translation. Axes and swords did not slide through mail so quickly - it would take several awful hacks at a prone opponent to kill him, a fact that horrifies the modern visitors. On screen, one stab kills a guy except for one notable exception (which made for a great moment of suspense).

Similarly, both the horses and the men were described as being physically imposing, looming much larger than anyone is accustomed to in their daily modern life. All that is lost with the wide angle shots.

Some characters lose their significance. Lady Claire is relegated to a messy peasant spy instead of a scheming sexpot who sleeps with a bishop to help the French. I of course understand why that detail was excised (America doesn't tolerate sexual freedom in female leads). Less forgivable is the role of the scientist who remains behind - he ultimately saves the day in the book after the time machine breaks down, but in the movie he pretty much just runs around screaming, "Oh my God, WADDAWEDONOW?!"

The most obvious difference is the time travel itself. Since time travel in Timeline involves the use of a microscopic wormhole, the time travelers are shrunk down and then pushed through the hole. That would look positively ridiculous in the movie, so they wisely just left the time travel relatively F/X free.

And yet, Timeline does hit the mark in several scenes. The launching of arrows from both the French and English are terrifying as they rain silent death on everyone in their path. Even better, the English lord uses "night arrows" after firing a volley of flaming arrows, surprising the French and horribly maiming many of the enemy archers. Being a history buff myself, watching trebuchets in action is a real treat.

Because the grime and chaos of history is difficult to convey on screen when so many other historical epics have been portrayed, some of the characters' actions make less sense in the movie than in the book. In the book, the protagonists can escape because it's very hard to keep track of people with peasants, chickens, and decaying brick all around. In the movie, the good guys just run in a random direction and get away from the bad guys - over and over and over, even though the majority of events all take place within the same location.

Taking all this into account, Maleficent and I both enjoyed Timeline quite a bit. It's good fun with a bit of history thrown in.

But I still think they should have done a better job advertising it as if it were Lord of the Rings 2.5.

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Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies

I originally learned about Guns, Germs, and Steel on the RPG.net forums. It sounded like an excellent book to ground a Game Master or an author on world-building. So I put it on my wish list and last Christmas I received it as a gift. It took me this long to finish reading it, and I'm the better for it.

But I put it down after reading one chapter into it. The author, Jared Diamond, explains on page 19 that racist explanations are "loathsome, but also...wrong. Sound evidence for the existence of human differences in intelligence that parallel human differences in technology is lacking." Then he turns around and states, "...modern "Stone Age" peoples are on the average probably more intelligent, not less intelligent, than industrialized peoples. Displaying his bias up front, Diamond states on page 21, "in mental ability New Guineans are probably genetically superior to Westerners, and they surely are superior in escaping the devastating developmental disadvantages under which most children in industrialized societies now grow up."

There's a few problems with Diamond's arguments, not the least of which is that he spends two pages arguing a point that he has no means of scientifically proving. This is ironic, given his last chapter that talks about a scientific approach to history. It's also telling that Diamond has but one source mentioned in his notes for his argument that New Guineans are smarter than Westerners.

On its surface, I don't object to Diamond's bias. It does however, taint his entire argument. It's difficult to take Diamond seriously when he devotes an entire book proving that one society's domination of another is not inherently racist but determined by a wide variety of other factors - but oh yeah, New Guineans are genetically superior. It's like listening to a priest and a die-hard atheist argue - the two are so diametrically polarized, it's difficult to consider either argument as objective.

So I put the book down and it sat on my shelf for two months. Then I decided to give Diamond another chance, because some of what he said was intriguing. To whit, Diamond provides evidence that societies excel because of a combination of geographic and societal factors.

For example, farming societies can produce more food per square foot than hunting societies. Hunters have to expend energy to carry their children, so too many hinders the tribe. Farmers can stay put and reproduce as well as feed more mouths. As time goes on, farming societies can support politicians. Politicians are better at waging war and organizing peoples than hunters, who will often leave the area and move on to a less dangerous location.

Farmers also coexist with domesticated animals. Of particular relevant for world builders are the attributes that make an animal useful for domestication, including diet (food must be easily available), growth rate (they must grow quickly enough to be productive), breed in captivity, benign disposition, not prone to panic, and social structure (herd or pack mentalities allow humans to take roles in the domesticated animals' structure). Animals are important for another reason - by coexisting with them, humans are exposed to a wider variety of diseases earlier than hunters. This is how Europeans ended up plaguing North and South Americans.

Geographically, he east-west axis of a continent allows cultures to travel easier across similar terrain as opposed to a north-south continent, which will have a wider variety of climates. This in turn makes it easier to carry foodstuffs and farming.

On the opposite extreme, unified societies can be a hindrance. China fell behind modern societies even though it led the world in chemistry, clockworks, exploration, and warfare - all because the ruling classes passed laws to prohibit their development. Conversely, Europe's fragmentation was ripe enough in its diversity to allow good ideas to eventually flourish.

Diamond's overview is breathtaking in its breadth and a critical part of our education system. It should be in every child's school texts. It helps dispel, once and for all, the racist notions that pervade common views of history - if only Diamond could keep his own biases out of the book.

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Rygar: The Legendary Adventure

I had low expectations for Rygar. After all, my only contact with the game was when it was an extremely difficult side-scroller in the arcades. Sure, Rygar's concept was cool - a barbarian who throws a Yo-yo of Death (okay, it's called Diskarmor, but you get the idea). What's not to like?

Rygar: The Legendary Adventure changed my perceptions of what Rygar was about. Rygar was reimagined as a Greek tale, much the same way that Link was reimagined as a Celtic hero. Being an avid role-player, I appreciated the change.

But there's a lot more to Rygar than just throwing a shield at weird caterpillars. The realm is firmly (if rather inaccurately) rooted in Greek mythology. Echidna, Typhon, Minotaur, Centaur, Sphinx, Cretus, Greek gods...the whole gang is here. And the settings are beautiful - backgrounds look and feel like Greek landscapes and vistas. Even better, Rygar is encouraged to destroy everything in sight and his efforts are rewarded by the massive collapse of pillars, statues, and caverns. It's like Classical graffiti. Unlike Superman: Shadow of Apokolips, you actually feel as if you're hitting hard things when you hit them with your Diskarmor. The Diskarmor sparks and bounces as it hits solid rock.

The princess you have to rescue is a spitting image of Britney Spears. Depending on your opinion of Britney, that's a good or bad thing.

The game revels in its beautiful levels, giving Rygar ample opportunity to explore it all. The Temple of Poseidonia is especially breathtaking, with sparkling waterfalls and glowing seashells. Equally impressive are the Skies of Arcadia, where Rygar must do battle miles above the earth and clouds. Fortunately, if you fall off you don't die but rather start over at the nearest large floating island. This single piece of thoughtful design is what stopped me from completing Akuji the Heartless. It's a compliment to say that Rygar got everything right that Akuji tried to do - take an unusual setting and make it both visually interesting and fun to play.

Like Final Fantasy, there are familiars that can be summoned to unleash even more damage on Rygar's enemies. There are three: Siren, Cerberus, and the not-quote-phonetically-correct Taros (that'd be Talos, but the Engrish translation screwed it up). The Diskarmors can also be improved by gaining experience (er, sorry, "sfaira" which means "sphere" in Greek). By improving the three different types of Diskarmor, Rygar can add mystic stones. Mystic stones enhance the powers of the shield, including the ability to heal, inflict more damage, or defend better. Some people call this a "role-playing element." I don't, but it's still neat.

There are a few things wrong with Rygar. For one, the voice acting is awful. I know voice actors - they have brains, and anyone who speaks English should not be reciting the badly translated crap from Japanese that was foisted upon Rygar. Don't any of these voice actors turn to the guy handing them the script and say, "Nobody would say it like that!"? In one instance, the bad guy is trying to get Rygar's soul. So he states, "I will crush your soul, and steal your body." That'd be "Crush your body so I can steal your soul." The voice acting is bad enough that it detract from the game.

Rygar's plot is nearly impenetrable due to the bad translation. It loosely involves Aristotle (yes, THAT Aristotle), Cleopatra, and Julius Casear (along with his son, Caesarion). Because of the poorly constructed plot, the whole thing comes off as if someone threw a bunch of Greek names in a blender and made a story out of it.

The monsters are strangely out of place in an adventure set in mythic Greece. The rollers are a cross between pissed off centipedes and caterpillars. They move just like caterpillars too. But why is Rygar fighting so many of them? Or the strangely acrobatic Hycanithus (wouldja believe they're killer flowers)? Or the Harpuai, which are floating arms. The only Ancient Greek monster that shows up on a regular basis are the cylcopes, but they're rare. C'mon folks, this is Greek myth, there's plenty of other critters to thrown into the game.

But I quibble. Although Rygar isn't as good as it could be, it's still one of the most beautiful games to ever grace the Playstation 2. I played it obsessively until I beat it. And that's the best recommendation I can give any game.

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Paycheck

Paycheck has a cool if somewhat recycled premise: our protagonist (in this case, an engineer played by square-jawed Beniffer - I mean Ben Affleck) works on reverse-engineering projects and then has his memory wiped so that there's no evidence left behind. But then comes along the job of his life - a multimillion dollar deal that has one catch...he must lose three years of his memory.

So Michael Jennings (Affleck), who is a greedy bastard, takes the deal. A lot can happen in three years and of course, he manages to fall in love with the doctor (Uma Thurman) who he had a brief flirtation with at a party. He also worked on a top-secret project (it's spoiler time folks, so get ready)...

Jennings of course wants no part of the project so he has to send himself secret coded notes in the form of 20 generic, boring everyday items. Then he gives up all that money to "keep him focused on those 20 items."

The movie's plot is intriguing. The initial science of memory wiping seems plausible. Jennings brain must be kept at a certain temperature or he "turns into a vegetable" during a process where they literally zap brain cells away. You lose brain cells every day, so this isn't quite as awful as it sounds. Of course, one of the problems is that the guy who does the zapping sees on screen what Jennings saw. So should HE have to be zapped too? Shouldn't it be an automated process run by a machine or something?

There are a lot of plot holes like that, and once you go down that path the movie turns into a big, breezy pile of Swiss cheese. As I work for a Fortune 5 company myself, I know for a fact that if a highflying executive sold all his stock or gave up his shares, he'd be immediately called into an office to ask why. People don't just give up millions of dollars because they're having a bad day.

The second memory wipe is also plausible - they insert a tracer into Jennings and then, when the three years are up, follow back to the point of the tracer and chemically wipe his brain. Since it's a chemical process, it's an imperfect one and Jennings has dreams and nightmares of what he saw.

John Woo has an issue with pacing. It's obvious he wants to show off his martial arts filming techniques and there are plenty of opportunities for Jennings to do just that. But they drag on too long. Jennings is also a fantastic motorcyclist - bizarre, since Rachel (Thurman) tells him he's "only okay" on the bike. Then we're subjected to a 10-minute-too-long action sequence of Jennings and Rachel being chased by cop cars, bad guys, and multiple car explosions.

This happens again and again. The protagonists get into a tight spot and some of the time, Jennings McGyvers his way out. The rest of the time, he fights his way out. The engineer. Fighting his way out like a Marine.

There's no chemistry between Thurman and Affleck. I'm not sure how there could be. I'm so accustomed to seeing Uma in movies where she's a tough, pushy, almost manly character that seeing her in pink and giggling seemed extremely out of character. Affleck does a fair job of trying to be bewildered and compassionate at the same time, but nowhere is there any evidence of the incredible brilliance that Jennings used to create the device or negotiate his way through the future.

To sum up, Paycheck has all the twists of Total Recall but drags on its action sequences too long; it has all the mystery of Minority Report but not enough technical savvy to convince us it's a possible future; all the mind-bending antics of Memento but not enough carefully crated design to be a brilliant script, all the apocalyptic predictions of Terminator 3 but not the strength of its convictions to end the movie on a low note.

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3000 Miles to Graceland

3000 Miles to Graceland was advertised as a very different movie. I have to say, if I could just watch movies made by the guys who put together previews, I'd be a lot happier.

The preview emphasized the whole Elvis angle. To wit: a bunch of crooks decide to rob a Vega casino dressed as Elvises (Elvi?). Kevin Costner plays Thomas Murphy, the bastard child of Elvis. Actually, there's possibly two bastard children of Elvis in this movie. Ya see, there were 35 claimants stating that Elvis was their pop, but 33 of those DNA tests proved false. So who is the other Elvis-spawn? We're never told.

Anyway, that's all besides the point. That whole Elvis thing? That's not what the movie's about.

In fact, at first I thought the movie was about giant robot mecha. It starts with two computer generated robot-like scorpions battling each other to the death. Only they have big, grinning maws for faces. The black scorpion fights the silver scorpion. One of them is probably supposed to be the good guy. It doesn't matter, the movie seems to say, because they're both mean scorpions and you shouldn't be rooting for either one.

The first half hour of the movie is the aforementioned heist of the casino by the Elvis gang. The potential for entertainment is ruined by weird, stuttery camera shots and a total lack of rhythm. Interspersed between images of Elvis-impersonators firing machineguns are Broadway shows of elvis. But none of it gels quite right.

When we're not seeing Elvis with a gun, which apparently the director thinks is absolutely hysterical since he shows these shots over and over, we're seeing women do naughty sexual acts. Courtney Cox, in the first role as a sexual plaything that I can recall, acts as...well, a sexual plaything (unless you count Ace Ventura too). She also has a thieving little son named Jesse James. He likes to pick pockets and pretend he's a cowboy. There's a lot of Courtney moving up and down in the vicinity of a bed. If you like Ms. Cox, then this is as good as the movie gets.

There's definitely a misogynistic streak running through the film. It's most obvious when a random redhead shows up for no other reason than to provide fellatio for the bad guy - that's Murphy.

I'm no fan of Kevin Costner, but he does play a mad-dog-mean bad guy. The protagonist, if you can call him that, is Kurt Russell as Michael Zane. Russel kicks ass, even in this role. But he can't save this movie. In some twisted, good-vs-evil battle, the two characters go head to head again and again in car crashes, gunfights, and battles of wit. Okay, battles of potty-mouthed swearing.

I expected this movie to be witty, funny, cool in a fashion very similar to Ocean's Eleven. But this movie is like the anti-Ocean's Eleven. It sucks the cool out of other movies playing nearby. It features lots of foul language, the complete desecration of all things Elvis, Courtney Cox's ass, Christian Slater AND David Arquette, child abuse, and women as sex toys. It's a bitter, nasty, dirty film that has little redeeming value.

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Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance


I picked up Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance (BG:DA) for Playstation 2 after finishing Dungeons & Dragons: Heroes on the Xbox. I'm familiar with Bioware, who consistently makes games I really enjoy (including Neverwinter Nights and Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic). Additionally, Baldur's Gate came first before D&D Heroes, so I knew there would be some improvements. Still, Maleficent and I enjoy blowing stuff up together, so we needed a new fix and Baldur's Gate fit the bill.

Unlike D&D Heroes, BG:DA pretends it has role-playing elements and in doing so, just highlights how non-role-playing the game is. Similar to Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic and Neverwinter Nights, there are conversation trees. When you speak to a character, you select a series of responses from a menu. There are maybe five characters you can talk to in total and your conversation doesn't really matter - we quickly discovered that clicking the top choice always meant we'd get to hear the whole story. But you can just skip the whole story too and get right to the matter at hand, which means the role-playing elements are just trappings to make it seem more like D&D.

Forget character customization too, at least at character creation. There are three character types, including an elven sorceress, dwarven (cleric? I didn't play him so not sure), and human arcane archer. Some warning flags should go off for folks who play the third edition of D&D - one cannot start out as an arcane archer, that's a prestige class. But that doesn't matter - the human, named Vahn, is whom you get to play. While he can hack things up in melee, Vahn's clearly optimized for ranged combat. The game gives subtle hints like dropping great heaps of arrows as the only equipment you find in treasure hoards.

BG:DA is obviously geared towards a particular breed of player - the young, [...], male kind. The first character you interact with is a blonde elf that is quite buxom and has a habit of leaning forward, gesturing towards her chest or thrusting her hips. Similarly, the elven sorceress is only elf-like in that she has pointed ears - the rest of her is quite human.

The artwork, especially for a PS2 game, is fantastic. The backgrounds and sound effects are impressively crafted and filled with a loving attention to detail. The characters themselves move smoothly and act like real people in their hand gestures and emotions - even the lizard man acts slightly inhuman in how he speaks and moves. The voice acting is well done, but that's something I've come to expect from Bioware.

There are some lazy shortcuts that were very irritating in their exclusion. One lizard man sends the heroes through an elemental plane of water, spends five minutes explaining how dangerous the journey will be and then we see a cut scene focusing on some random tower. POOF! That whole water/drowning thing? We never see it - we don't' even see animation explaining the journey. We have to trust on faith that it was a tough swim through the elemental plane of water. When everything else is narrated and explained in such painstaking detail, I expect to see animation explaining it.

There is, of course, all the good stuff that some people think equates with a role-playing game: you can buy equipment, switch out arms and armor, and train particular feats and spells as you advance. Little of these powers resemble third edition D&D - fire shield is considerably weaker than its tabletop counterpart. Strangely, my character was unharmed by Maleficent's burning hands (even when she was blasting right through him) but her fireballs hurt him. Go figure.

Some of the monsters are radically different from their tabletop equivalents in weird ways. In Neverwinter Nights, umber hulks are wusses with an irritating confusion gaze. In BG:DA they are terrifying juggernauts, sans gaze. Drow are still as sneaky as ever (it's clear Bioware has a soft spot for the dark-skinned elves), dragons are still a pain in the ass, and giants are suitably fearsome. Bulette burrow and are extremely difficult to kill, which is appropriate, although they waddle like fast moving turtles...not how I envisioned them (or how they move in D&D Heroes).

Perhaps the most unforgivable flaw in the game is that it crashed. That's right folks, just like a PC, the screen went white and the game crashed hard. Considering we were at a critical point in the game and a lot of objects were on the screen at the same time (magic missiles, multiple enemies, arrows, etc.) I imagine it overtaxed the PS2. But what the heck - if I wanted a game that would crash I would have played it on a PC!

As a game developer myself for RetroMUD, I was surprised to see that every corpse and item stays where it is. That means there's no object cleanup. This means that the system has to determine the location of every item, corpse, and monster at all times. Corpses stay right where they are, which is alternately cool and disturbing, especially in rooms of mass slaughter. This problem was resolved in D&D Heroes (the corpses disintegrate) but it's a big mistake for a game of this size and probably led to the aforementioned crash.

I also got stuck once in an area due to clipping errors. These are amateurish mistakes that I haven't since seen repeated (certainly, not in D&D Heroes) so I'm willing to forgive the developers. But it's their first foray onto console games and it shows. It's a good game, but there are better games now with less boring, click-so-they-shut-up "role-playing" elements.

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Big Fish

I'm a big fan of Tim Burton, so I walked into Big Fish with some trepidation. I was aware that this was Tim's big break - a genre movie that wasn't quite so "genre," just like Sam Raimi directing Spider-man. Would he be able to pull off something that's not quite so dark and wonderful but still retain that magical quality that makes Tim's movies so much fun?

Yes!

This is not to say that Big Fish is a happy-go-lucky film. The plot revolves around Will Bloom, a journalist, and his tenuous relationship with his tall-tale-telling father, Edward Bloom. You see, Edward doesn't just make up stories -- he transforms them into Homeric proportions as he spins each tale for his audiences. What Will found to be a wonderful trait as a boy turned to cynicism and frustration as a man. It's like finding out Santa Claus isn't really but still seeing him every day. What do you say to the man?

Nothing, in Will's case. He had long since stopped talking to his father. But then Edward falls ill and Will is called back home. Thus begins a journey through Edward's life, as told by Edward himself and played out for audience as if it were real.

What's compelling about Big Fish is that the events are played with enough seriousness to take them as truth. Yes, there's a witch with a glass eye, a goat-eating giant, the conjoined singing twins Ping and Jin, and a ghostly town named Spectre. But they are all presented with careful maturity. When one of Ed's young friends looks into the witch's eye, he sees his own death on a toilet bowl as a middle-aged man. You half expect his head to explode or something.

That theme, that Ed knows when he's going to die, is an undercurrent throughout the entire film because it crosses the line between fantasy and reality. If Ed's tales are actually false, if they're complete fabrications, why does a man on his deathbed believe in them so strongly? Is it just desperation? Or are they real, in some way?

The answer is both. Ultimately, Will keeps looking for answers that cannot be found - he wants to know his "real father," but in reality he can't accept who his real father is. It is Will who is the fabrication - he has constructed a form of "normalcy" that doesn't exist and that he judges his father by. In the end, it's not about the veracity of anyone's story...it's about listening. All Will ever wanted to do is have his father listen to him.

And at the end of the film and Edward's life, he finally does. This is an exceptional piece and one Tim should be proud of that still manages to stay true to his fantasy roots and yet takes a serious look at very real issues of death, immortality, and a father and son's affection.

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The Lord of the Rings - The Return of the King

This final installment of Lord of the Rings is, at last, the conclusion to an epic saga that has been unspooling on screen only recently, but long since concluded in Tolkien's novels. Very quickly, those who have read the book are separated from those who have not - while the other movies were distinctly different enough to provide some surprises, the end is a foregone conclusion. It's all a matter of how sensitively Peter Jackson handles the emotions, the actors, and the plot.

Fortunately, Jackson grew as a director. Where the second film felt uneven, the movement between several different groups (Frodo and Sam, Pippin and Gandalf, Merry and Eowyn) is flawless. The film never loses its rhythm until the end, and by then we all need a breather.

My biggest concern about the film was the final battle. It only makes sense that Sauron would use the various troop types (flying forces, elite troops, heavy cavalry) to the fullest. Jackson does not disappoint. Trolls in battle armor wade into the fray as mumakils stomp on horses like ants. Wraiths on rothes tear up and terrify the unprepared human forces. And of course, orcs are everywhere; squealing, chortling, cackling, hacking, and dying.

Jackson strikes the perfect balance between emotional pathos on screen and his desire to craft a war film. That desire was a little too strong in the second film, where orcs ran up to a fortification with polearms in hand. Polearms exist almost exclusively to 1) stop other polearms and 2) stop the unstoppable charge of cavalry. To use them in an assault on a castle is just plain silly. Jackson used them for effect ("Lookit all those polearms!") but stopped just short of having the orcs start uselessly whacking away at the stones.

In Return of the King, the orcs are led by a weirdly deformed pig-like orc named Gorbag who provides some actual leadership. He orders his orcs to set their pikes for a charge when the Rohirrim cavalry arrives. He orders his archers to fire at the right times. And he's such a bad ass, when a huge stone is catapulted towards him, he merely steps a few feet aside and spits at the projectile. Given all that attention, you would think Gorbag would get a cool fight scene like Lurtz did. No such luck.

In fact, there are a few things that seem to be missing from the film. Certainly, the Mouth of Sauron is nowhere to be found (he'll be on the extended version, of course). There are also some unfulfilled promises, such as when the Witch King promises to "crush the White Wizard." He doesn't even go near Gandalf.

But those are minor quibbles that are noticeable only after seeing the film in the theater six times. There are so many great moments that it's hard to keep track of them all: From Aragorn transforming into a leader before our very eyes, to Legolas taking down a mumakil single-handedly, from a song by Pippin as Faramir charges to his doom, to the last charge of Denethor off the cliff of Isengard. There is joy, there is sorrow, and there are inevitably plenty of tears - on screen and in the audience.

The Lord of the Rings trilogy is the Star Wars of our time. It is a parable about the importance of friendship in a world gone mad, a world that will always have a parallel in geopolitical events. It stands as a testament to Jackon's and Tolkien's vision that the film works on so many levels, as an action film, as an allegory, as a romance, as a fairy tale, as a political commentary, and as a popcorn flick.

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Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Hidalgo

You already know the story of Hidalgo if you've watched Seabiscuit. In that movie, the jockey keeps referencing a tall tale of how he "raced in Arabia." Well, Hidalgo is that story.

Unfortunately, people have come to expect that any film about a horse is a kid-friendly film. One false assumption and a few severed heads later, it was obvious that Hidalgo is not for children.

Here's one of the many things that kept me from enjoying this movie fully: there are lots of subtitles.

This, in and of itself, is not a problem, as I'm a fast reader. But a child under 13 years of age can't read that fast.

Viggo Mortensen, reprising his rough and tumble role as Aragorn, is Frank T. Hopkins. He's a half-Native American, half-white cowboy who has seen better days. He and his horse (Hidalgo) perform in Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show. I was tickled to see this connection, as Wild Bill figures prominently in the Devil in the White City (see my review). It's the end of an era - Indians are being shuttled off to reservations, whites are taking over, and the open prairies are no longer free lands where horses and cowboys can roam. Frank drowns his sorrow in alcohol, sorrow made all the worse by his witnessing the massacre of Indians at Wounded Knee.

Haunted by his heritage and feeling like a traitor to his people, Frank sees the "Ocean of Fire" race as a chance to find himself in a new, unforgiving land. It is journey Frank must make to find his inner Indian, because there are no longer any wild lands to test him.

And off he goes. The tale is wild and wooly and full of adventure. There's an excellent supporting cast, including Omar Sharif in his best role ever as a "Sheik of Sheiks." There's also a host of competitors, rival horsemen, and plenty of horses.

In a lot of ways, this movie has much in common with The Last Samurai (see my review). It's a white man (okay, half-white) co-opting the experience of another land for his own. In that regard, Hidalgo steals both the Arabian experience and the Native American experience. When John has a vision of his ancestors and begins chanting in his native tongue, I couldn't help but wonder if there were any Native Americans who felt slighted.

Hidalgo is a fun movie, but it's also a bit jumbled. Viggo is soft-spoken, a trait that made him unobtrusive as the unknown king in Lord of the Rings. Here, he's practically unintelligible. The plot also wanders - sometimes John is out to win the race, sometimes he's on a rescue mission, sometimes he's wandering around lost.

Hidalgo's a good old fashioned pulp yarn, complete with fist fights, sword fights, gun fights, killer leopards, Arabians, cowboys, slavery, American Indians, and princesses. If you like your horses fast, your men tough, and your landscapes harsh, then Hidalgo will be a real treat.

But for the love of God, don't bring a child under 13. Thank you.

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Warriors: A Comprehensive D20 Sourcebook for Fantasy Role-Playing Games

Warriors is one of those d20 references that's actually a reference. Written by veterans who know their stuff, it's obvious that there's a strong historical context winding its way through the information provided throughout. And of course, that information is about everybody's favorite NPC class, the warrior.

Okay, so warriors aren't everybody's favorite NPC class. In fact, they're usually glossed over as [bad] fighters. Their role has never clearly been defined -- the DMG's explanation of the warrior class leaves them open to interpretation. Warriors aims to change that.

The artwork in the book varies greatly, from obvious black and white clipart to extremely cartoony (the executioner on p. 21 being the most egregious example).

The book begins with an Introduction to warriors in general and a reference to a new innovation, the subtype. The subtype idea is a means of defining an NPC without making them overly powerful. They are not like the old 2nd Edition kits (thank goodness!) but they do help delineate the skills and feats of say, a longbowman vs. a shortbowman. Warriors also claims to have reprinted previously published material from the Experts book. However, there are numerous (and after the first few times, annoying) references to go read the Experts book for more information. Warriors also mentions that it's meant to be 3.5 compatible, but that the conversion might not be perfect (it isn't). It rounds out the introduction with a description of medieval armies that helps set the sometimes gritty tone of the book. Unlike the Experts book, Warriors is largely open game content.

The prestige classes chapter details a wide variety, including Aerial Cavalryman, Beast Rider, Charioteer, Combat Engineer, Dueling Master, Executioner, Forester, Gladiator, Marine, Mechanist Infantry, Militia Leader, Mountaineer, Nomadic Cavalryman, Sheriff, Watchman, and Zealot. Warriors is strongest when it hews closely to the historical archetypes of warriors and is weaker when it ranges into the fantasy genre. Each prestige class is accompanied by an example of the class, helpful to DMs and players alike who know what prestige class they want but wouldn't recognize it by name.

The next chapter details warrior subtypes. Subtypes are sort of a poor man's occupations from d20 Modern. In fact, they are quite similar, if a bit more detailed, than occupations. I like the idea -- it helps round out the warrior class and provide alternatives without requiring the levels of a prestige class. Thus, there are longbow subtypes, artillerist subtypes, etc. Each subtype gets a special benefit, usually a class skill -- just like d20 Modern occupations. Unlike the occupations, each subtype comes with suggested equipment and feats it can substitute. The subtypes also include non-military versions, like the bandit and barkeep. Incidentally, this book's subtypes is an excellent complement to Mercenaries: Born of Blood.

The skill chapter goes into exquisite detail about everything from Craft (artifice) to the rune-carving Craft (Koftgari). Warriors keeps the new skills to a minimum, offering Operate Device, Signaling, Smell, Taste, and Torture. Duh -- why didn't anyone else think of the Smell and Taste skills when we have Listen and Spot? One of the best chapters in the book.

The feats chapter details relatively bland feats, including a bunch of aerial combat feats and some feats specific to prestige classes/subtypes.

The equipment chapter is a study in contrasts: fantasy equipment is mixed in with exotic weapons and armor from other cultures. Thus we have the chakram, khandar, and pata mixed in with the assault mechanist armor (in essence, power armor). This is one of those situations where the book overextends itself a bit -- armor of this type is best left to books like D20 Mecha (where is D20 Mecha, anyway?). It also includes rules on making high technology weapons and transportation, including balloons and dirigibles. It even explains how gunpowder is made.

The spells chapter is primarily dominated by battle runes, which are used by zealots. These battle runes are not remarkable -- they're just a variant of material components. Some of the spells have a middle-Eastern feel to them (like eye of Shiva and searing sands). The spell, transformation of Jebus, seems like a juiced up version of Tenser's transformation.

The magic items chapter ranges all over the place, from (armor, claw, boots, cloak, etc.) of the beast to more exotic items like the bow of Rama, dwarven firewagon, table of Ezekiel and thunderbolt of Hirtadhvaj. Someone did their homework.

The monsters appendix is unexceptional. It has three monsters in total, the primary focus being the Narasinhai. They're a anthropomorphic lion race. We've seen it before.

The third appendix details sample characters, useful for dropping NPCs that use the Warriors rules right into the game. A sorely needed attribute that takes a LOT of work to create -- I speak from personal experience.

The last three appendices are excellent. They detail chariot warfare, elephant warfare and heraldry. Each appendix is short but descriptive and summarizes all the information you need to know in a succinct fashion.

While the text and artwork may be at times uneven, Warriors achieves its goal -- it fleshes out the warrior NPC class with enough ideas that it can easily be applied to PCs. It works best when applied as a straight historical interpretation of the D20 system and is less effective when it veers off into fantasy elements that are obviously favorites of the authors. Warriors is an excellent sourcebook that provides breadth and depth to a long-ignored NPC class.

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Magic the Gathering Interactive Encyclopedia

The Magic: The Gathering Interactive Encyclopedia (M:TGIE) promises a lot. It claims to be a playing tool, an encyclopedia, and a deckbuilding assistant all in one. That's a pretty tall order. Is Wizards of the Coast (WOTC) up to the challenge? Let's find out!

The M:TGIE's interface takes up the entire screen. It's a black background that doesn't lend itself to skipping between programs, even though much of the system relies on a Web browser. My preferred weapon of choice is Netscape, so it's possible the interface works better with Internet Explorer. After a couple of extraneous and irritating animations (that you must skip through every time you load the program), you have a choice of five sections:

This section allows you to find an opponent and begin an online game of Magic: The Gathering. It's not quite the same experience as playing a non-virtual game. Essentially, this is just a virtual gaming table.

Like so many other attempts to duplicate in-person, face-to-face gaming, the gaming table is a poor substitute. While it does standardize some aspects of a face-to-face game, like not having to worry about getting soda on your cards or the size of your gaming table, it's not going to replace the card game any time soon. Of course, WOTC knows this, or they wouldn't have created M:TGIE. But at least you don't have to worry about running out of counters anymore.

All the typical elements of virtual gaming are evident, including the ability for coin tosses and dice rolls, so you don't have to guess if your opponent really got a Heads on that last flip. There's also a list of parameters you can set for prospective players, which help ensure you play the game the way you want to play. You won't find an AI computer opponent with this program though.

Beyond the awkwardness of a virtual interface, which takes some getting used to, the biggest problem with this section lies in its communication tools. M:TGIE doesn't provide for audio interaction (although it does have a chat window). This isn't usually an issue with most games, because there are plenty of other shareware programs that you can use to work around it. The problem, however, is that M:TGIE is not Windows friendly. Switching between windows is laggy and can cause the program to crash. The window doesn't minimize either.

Still, considering the chaotic nature of most Magic: The Gathering games, the controlled virtual environment may be a welcome reprieve for gamers with high blood pressure.

The Deckbuilder is a fabulous feature for collectors, because it allows you to see what cards you still need. This is also where you can create your own virtual decks. The ability to print data about each card is very useful, but you can't print the pictures. No surprises here - if WOTC did this, you could probably create your own cards at home. But you can print a list of your entire collection, as well as the details of each individual card (including the quotes!).

Let's face it, the best part of collecting is gloating over the value of your Black Lotus. Although WOTC doesn't officially endorse any particular pricing list, they've given you the ability to download pricing lists on the Web. What they didn't give you was the ability to sort or display the prices in any useful way. So if you want to figure out the value of your deck, you'll have to look at each and every card individually. If you're a collector like me, this can take a very, very long time. Still, it's faster than looking up the value of each card, which is something I simply wouldn't bother to do (I'm the lazy collector-type).

There are also a few problems with the Deckbuilder section. Some views do not display correctly on screen. The search view appeared to be broken, as I was only able to display the upper left part of the search window. Patches and updates to the program didn't fix the problem.

This is the real meat of the encyclopedia. This section tackles the daunting task of giving you access to every Magic card ever printed. Almost all of them, anyway - there were no Guru cards that I could find. Useful features include the ability to make your own notes about each card, additional information from WOTC about background information on each card, why it was created, its intended use, or strategy tips. One particularly useful feature is the ability to zoom in on the artwork. I didn't think this mattered much until I began to notice the subtle differences between the seemingly endless editions of Magic: The Gathering cards. The only way to determine which cards you have is to carefully scrutinizing those graphics. It's also amusing to see how the game has changed for the better, and how some obviously abusable rules were clarified in later editions.

The strategy library is a storehouse of articles and writings to help with your game play. It includes rules and formats, articles, the history of the game, and organized play. Don't get too excited though, as this isn't proprietary information - it's all available (and linked to) WOTC's Web site. This guarantees the information is kept up to date, but it makes for an awkward interface that doesn't mesh well with your Web browser.

This is where the true value of the M:TGIE becomes clear. With the speed that WOTC produces cards, this encyclopedia would be rapidly outdated in a matter of months. But just a few simple downloads, and -- voila! - my encyclopedia was up to date. This also included updates to the card pricing, ensuring the latest and most up to date values.

The M:TGIE tries to be all things to all gamers, and only achieves some of them successfully. As an interactive gaming tool, it's a novelty. As a collector's assistant, it's invaluable. As a reference, it's less successful due to the broken search function and awkward Windows interface. Most importantly, the Magic: The Gathering Interactive Encyclopedia utilizes the full power of the Internet, ensuring that its shelf life will be measured in years rather than months.

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Rifts World Book 18: Mystic Russia

Now that fantasy RPGs are looking for new cultures to exploit, Russia has finally come into its own. Mystic Russia is, as the back of the cover states, about "...Russian Myth, but given that ol' Rifts® twist." It does a serviceable job of bringing Russian monsters to life, and to a lesser degree, the O.C.C.s of Russian folklore.

The monster section is the best part and obviously the primary reason for the book, as they're placed in the front (which seems peculiar to me). Most are pulled right from Russian folklore, but a few seem like someone thought the picture looked cool and threw in some statistics for it, like the Demon Claw. Of particular note are the Koshchei (remember that guy from the AD&D Monster Manual II?) and the Kaluga Hag on page 27, my vote for what the Blair Witch looks like. The artwork throughout the book is above par.

Speaking of witches, as usual, this book heavily emphasizes that magic isn't real and neither are witches. Unless you are a practicing witch, in which case, please don't be offended. Mr. Siembedia points this out on page 1. And page 10. And page 72. And 73.

Perhaps the biggest flaw of all the books Mr. Siembedia writes are the finger-wagging, condescending quips that are littered throughout the rules. For example, on the topic of the evil Necromancer as an O.C.C., he advises to "...please respect the G.M.'s decision and move forward with the game." Move forward with the game? We were in the middle of an argument and the author's narrative made us stop, turn to that passage, and suddenly realize we should all just "move forward with the game" and stop arguing about the rules? This kind of condescending blather is presumably due to the younger target audience, but I'm sure they find it insulting too.

The Pact Witch, Hidden Witch and Old Believer O.C.C.s are interesting looks at Russian folklore and magic, although occasionally the spells are so specific as to be of questionable value (spoil water, curdle mlik, spoil wine, and spoil eggs could probably be grouped under spoil food). The Necromancer and Fire Sorcerer are reprinted from other Rifts books. It's disconcerting to see (NEW!) in front of the Bone Magic section. So the rest of the spells aren't new? Of all the O.C.C.s, the Mystic Kunzya stands out as truly unique, super-smiths with a penchant for super weapons. Super-powerful unbalancing weapons, but hey, you don't play Rifts for game balance anyway.

The Gypsy section is suspiciously generic. While the first crop of O.C.C.s delve into very specific spells of limited usefulness, the Gypsy section is devoid of detail. Professions like the Chovihani are missing completely, unless you use the Hidden Witch, which is not what Chovihani were about. This would be a perfect place for such spells as steal liver and a variety of thief protection spells that Chovihani were known for.

The last section seems like an afterthought about Sovietski tanks and war machines. This is Mystic Russia, right?

All in all, this book is a servicable resource for most role-playing games. However, as a Rifts supplement, it's fluffed out with a lot of material in other books under the guise of being reprinted for the "player's convenience."

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Priest's Spell Compendium, Volume 1

The Priest's Spell Compendium (PSC) is the fifth installment in a welcome trend: TSR/WOTC cleaning out their vaults, collating their material, and placing them in sourcebooks. The Wizard's Spell Compendium, now complete, was a valuable addition to any player or Dungeon Master's repertoire of spells. On the other hand, it was just gravy, and it suffered (like other collections) from typos, poor editing, and the general impression that someone cut and pasted the information together haphazardly.

In the case of specialty Priests, the division of spells that occurred as a result of the Second Edition rules caused some serious unbalances in the game. Some specialty Priests have spheres with few spells in them, like the Astral sphere. Because many spells can be "reversed," evil Priests have access to the Healing sphere and good Priests have access to the Necromantic sphere.

Then there's "powers" which are unique abilities bestowed upon Priests by their gods. The distinction between spells and powers is murky, as powers are not subject to the sphere categorizations. It was a convenient loophole for giving Priests spells that didn't fit with their deities profile.

With this confusing situation making a specialty Priest's life difficult, and the powers and spells largely up to the Dungeon Master's discretion, a sourcebook with more Priest spells is a welcome addition.

Having a compilation of spells is useful for Druids and other specialty Priests who suffered from the sparse spheres they had to choose from. The PSC claims on page 3:
"Some description have been updated or combined with similar effects to eliminate duplication; some have been modified for better play, and a very few have been dropped entirely." It's a no-brainer: take all the out-of-print supplements, put them into a database, and hit the print button. Then, just edit the combined content. How hard could that be?

Very hard, unfortunately. The PSC, while better edited than its predecessors (and that's not saying much), is still plagued by what seems an unwillingness on the part of the editors to comb through the book line by line. Nowhere is this more obvious than on page 9:

"In the sword-and-sandal Dark Sun setting, priests are preservers or defilers, depending on whether or not their magic drains the living energy of that world." Priests are not preservers or defilers. That's a title applied to wizards in the Dark Sun setting. However, the above sentence is in the Wizard's Spell Compendium . Somebody replaced the word "Wizard" with "Priest" and pasted the introduction into the book. This did not bode well for the rest of the volume.

Some of the problems with PSC deal with the manner in which old spells were categorized into the new spheres created for Priests in the Second Edition rules. For example, why is age plant (p. 9) in the Time sphere, but not the Plant sphere? Several other spells are included in multiple spheres. The A section was a bit of a let down: the disturbingly slim Astral sphere only has a handful of spells in it, even with all the spells from other sources.

Icons accompany each spell to indicate, at a glance, what setting the spell fits best. This system is used inconsistently. Bad medicine (p. 52), a Shaman spell, is missing the savage setting icon.

There are several spells that create or summon monsters. The monster statistics are usually reproduced in the volume -- a necessity if the spells are to be of any use. Only some of the monsters' statistics appear, however: Create crypt thing (p. 154) has the created monster's statistics, but create death tyrant (p. 155) does not. If these statistics were removed intentionally to save space, it doesn't explain the large patches of blank space on pages 51 and 175.

Anyone remember the Dragon magazine article with six other Paladin classes, each based on a unique alignment? The Paramander's spells ended up in the Wizard's Spell Compendium, but the priest spells for the other Paladin classes are strangely excluded from this volume.

And then there's the inclusion of the coalstone's statistics without the actual spell to create it (p. 126). Why bother?

The artwork consists of serviceable black and white pictures, mostly portraits. One evident change of WOTC's takeover of TSR is their unwillingness to recycle old artwork. This may seem like a minor quibble, but it's a sore point with a lot of TSR products. Yes, I can recognize reused artwork from the Pick A Path/Which Way Adventure books! Thankfully, the artwork always applies to a spell on the same page.

With the Third Edition of Dungeons and Dragons on its way, it's possible that editing this volume wasn't the top priority. Indeed, it may be that instead of providing a quality product, TSR's goal is to recycle all out-of-print material and then release them in electronic format at a much lower price.

The Priest's Spell Compendium selling point is obvious: you can't get many of these spells anywhere else. For players of specialty priests, it's a valuable addition to their library. Unfortunately, TSR just doesn't put enough effort into editing and organizing the spells to justify its high price tag for anyone else.

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Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Core Rules 2.0

For those of you us who owned version 1.0 of the AD&D Core Rules CD-Rom, a revision is a long time in coming. Version 1.0 was a mess, with inconsistencies, broken programs, and a general feeling that TSR rushed it out as soon as possible without a whole lot of quality control (not an uncommon theme with TSR pre-WOTC takeover).

I'm happy to say they fixed a few problems. They also created a few more.

There are some staple elements that make you wonder why you ever bought any rule books. There's no less than nine of them, even more than version 1.0. Of course, that led me to wonder where the other ones were. Where's the Complete Book of ? The Wizard's Spellbooks? It doesn't matter. That's for Version 3.0.

Something seems to have happened to the Monster Manual, however. The pictures are no longer neatly displayed next to the descriptions. Instead, they're crammed into the RTF documents like the rest. Who wants to look at a monsterful of naked text?

What you will find is a hand-dandy number crunching program that allows you to make sense of all those Player's Option rules. I actually enjoyed this system, even if it was a bit awkward, because the Player's Option rules can make creating a character a much more complicated process.

Then there's the database. This database allows you to customize various objects, from magic items to monsters to encounters to kits. Which is neat. But only kits, and kits in the Players Option sense. Which means the kits are very weak. Also, there's a bit of confusion between giving a kit a bonus to a proficiency, a free proficiency, a preferred proficiency, and a required proficiency. Forget customizing classes -- THOU SHALT NOT TOUCH THE CORE RULES! Okay, so it's not THAT customizable.

I forgive all that. Having the cash equivalent of over $100 on a CD makes it worth the investment, especially if you're fond of hacking up the rules and want to insert your own house rules. To me, one of the biggest benefits of having AD&D rules in electronic text is what you can do with them.

What I can't forgive, however, is the mapping programs.

They tried. They tried very hard by including the Campaign Cartographer, which proved to be exceptionally dense and not particularly effective in mapping anything at all. I suspect it can be used by someone capable who wants to sit down and read the instruction manual, only there is none that accompany the CD. But that's not all! There's also another mapping program, the original mapping program that came with Version 1.0, Map Maker II.

That collective groan you're hearing in the background is from anyone who ever bought the first version. The reason they're groaning is because that sorry excuse for a mapping program didn't work. The good news is, it works now.

That's about it though. Worse, it's not exportable to any useful graphics format. No .pds, .bmps, .gifs. or jpgs. What good is this map? It works, but it's not even compatible with the Campaign Cartographer on the same CD!

Ultimately, the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Core Rules CD-ROM 2.0 does what it's supposed to do: it's a solid reference that would make a valuable addition to any Dungeon Master's collection. But it could be better.

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The Writer's Guide to Everyday Life in the Middle Ages

Another of the "Great for writers but even better for gamers" series, this book is exactly what I wanted from a reference, unlike the somewhat meandering Body Trauma in the Howdunit series. The book hits on so many topics, it's impossible to list them all: food, clothing, medicine, economy, measures, titles, saint, weapons...the list goes on and on. All are referenced in an easy to read, no commentary style that provides keywords in bold text with their definitions in each section. Even better, there's a Further Reading section at the end of each chapter.

As a springboard for further research, What Life Was Like is a prime resource. Of most immediate use to gamers with a historical bent are the date of clothing styles (to avoid anachronistic styles of dress) and a description of the day to day activities of a castle. While it's probably a bit extreme to apply all of these principles to role-playing fantasy, which is, after all, FANTASY, this book goes a long way in providing a sense of feel to an environment that's so different from the modern world, it seems fantastic.

Thus this scene: "The warrior takes a slurp from his soup bowl, then sticks another forkful of meat in his mouth as he mumbles, 'Yeah, I know him. What's it to ya?'"

Becomes this: "The warrior takes a slurp from his trencher, then sticks his knife into a hunk of meat and stuffs it in his mouth. He mumbles, 'Yeah, I know him. What's it to ya?'"

No forks til the late fourteenth century! Forget wooden bowls, people used hollowed out bread as bowls.

Also prevalent throughout this Writer's Guide are the pictures and lists. Although my own personal preference is for line drawings in a work such as this, the pictures (of period actors) do the job. Also, the lists, when they appear, are relevant and to the point, including a list of popes and kings.

There are other books in the series that would probably find an application in role-playing: Guides to Victorian England, Renaissance England, and even the Wild West. If they're anything like Everyday Life in the Middle Ages, they're worth checking out.

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Weapons: An International Encyclopedia From 5000 B.C. to 2000 A.D.

I stumbled upon this book in the library, immediately found myself coveting it, and then desperately considered photocopying the entire thing front to back. Fortunately, I didn't have to resort to such extreme measures - as a softcover the book is surprisingly affordable. There are few books of this type that are thorough and so lavishly illustrated; those that are have an equally lavish price tag. This book is a gem for those interested in weapons and armor of ancient and medieval times. There are indexes by geographical location as well as time period - an invaluable source for anyone interested in ancient weapons!

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The Tribe of Tiger: Cats and Their Culture

I was never a cat lover. I was definitely a dog person, and I (like all former dog owners) think my dog Jingles was the best dog in the whole wide world. Now we have a cat named Maya. All the myths I ever had about cats were turned on on their ear. In a similar fashion, The Tribe of Tiger gives a powerful insight into these animals without being overly sweet. Very often books of this type become unreadable to non-cat owners who get sick from the sugary references to cats at their cutest. Instead, Thomas examines all manner of cats, from the plight of the African lions to the triumph of the house cat. I wasn't aware that cats had a social organization at all, but unlike dogs (who have a distinct order in the pack), cats treat one cat as leader, with the others all equal in a kind of spoked-wheel formation. When you find out just how important it is that a cat meet another cat's gaze (and the trials of a blind cat who was unable to do so), you will have a new respect for cats, and this book.

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The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat: And Other Clinical Tales

Sacks has written a riveting and somewhat frightening series of case studies about things that, with a little less knowledge, would certainly fit into the supernatural category:
  • a man who lost all sense of smell in an accident dreams of being a dog and sniffing flowers, and awakens to find he can smell again;
  • an artist slowly loses the ability to distinguish people from objects (the Mr. Magoo syndrome), but his fans think it just makes his artwork better;
  • a woman who cannot perceive one side of her body at all, even when presented with a mirror;
  • a man whose left and right sides of the brain continually are at war, one hand buttoning him up while the tries to unbutton him.
Sachs provides enough strange-but-true stories to show us just how little we know about the human brain. A must read for anyone who wants the facts behind all those "believe it or not" books and shows.

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The Madness Season

Most people would pass this book up if they saw the above title (I would, if I saw it on a shelf). But then, a lot of people who bother to examine the plot of those Grade B Science Fiction movies would come to the same conclusion: those hackneyed plots are gems in capable hands. And Friedman certainly is capable! The Tyr, an alien hive-mind race, has already dominated humanity and much of the universe. Unexpectedly, they come upon a vampire who doesn't succumb to their normal soul-breaking tactics. This vampire (who, it should be noted, is never referred to as a vampire throughout the book) is humanity's salvation - he and another alien being known as a Mara fight a battle of intrigue against their captors. The Tyr undergo a dangerous and unpredictable transformation to improve their breeding chances with their queen, and the protagonist must unlock the secrets of their race if he is to survive. The ending will surprise you (and gross you out), but it's well worth the read. A rare find in science fiction and vampire novels alike.

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Have Spacesuit, Will Travel

This is one of those books that seems like it's a byproduct of the true publication date (it's old enough that people use slide-rules, not calculators). Many of the science fiction works of yesteryear are outdated leftovers, left behind because technology has far surpassed the writer's wildest dreams. Not so for Heinlein, whose vision is powerful enough to make this book still enjoyable (despite the ever present slide-rules). It's one of those "perfect timing situations" in which the main character wins a spacesuit as a second place prize, refills its airtanks, and then when he realizes he has no use for a spacesuit at all, is kidnapped by aliens -- of course! Although it may seem like light-hearted pulp fare, it has an underlying seriousness that makes the novel exceptional. It may also be a sad testament to our own space programs that Heinlein's work, after all these years, is not yet outdated.

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The Demon-Haunted World

I am an X-Files fan. I shamelessly pay lip service to all manner of extra-terrestrial, supernatural, and otherwise "out there" theories about the universe and our role in it. I have to admit, some of them seemed appealing. But there was something missing - we never heard from the other side. This only provided more ammunition for the paranoid, "They don't answer because they know they're wrong!" Here is Carl's answer.
  • I never knew who made electricity (John Maxwell), and that the electromagnetic spectrum was created to counter Anton Mesmer's (the hypnotist, who created the word mesmerism) theory of animal attraction (that's where that saying came from!).
  • I had no idea just how much hypnosis can influence others - read about the hypnotists who unintentionally plant suggestions into their young patients minds, and the accusations of devil-worshipping and satanic sacrifice that come about as a result.
  • Carl slams the alien face on Mars with some hard evidence (there is an error in photography that is one of the nostrils of the figure on Mars).
  • Crop circles are FAKE! The guys who invented them came out and admitted it...so why is everyone still talking about them anyway?
Before you make any decisions about the New Age, aliens, or any other popular quasi-theories that exist today, READ THIS BOOK.

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Ender's Game

Ender's Game is the first (and best) in a series about Ender, a young boy bred to be a leader in a society where more than two children is illegal. An alien race, insect-like possessing a hive mind (sound familiar? see The Madness Season), has attacked Earth, and we live in fear that they may strike again, even though it was decades ago. Ender, a child of the state, is drafted into this war, and he is forced to survive a bitter and difficult life in military school. His sister and brother (his brother Peter seems to be based on a popular killer, who dissected roadkill in his backyard), take over the Earth while he's away at war - an idea that's doesn't sound so silly when you read how they manipulate the internet society. True genius at work, Ender's greatest triumph and worst tragedy make for a powerful ending. Once you're done reading it, put it down and read something else unrelated - the rest of the series doesn't carry as much of a punch.

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The I Inside

This book is one of a little known work of Foster's that gets lost in the shuffle because he's written so much and so much better. But this speaks highly for his writing talent - this book is damned good, and few people know about it. The Ultimate Infatuation: You see a woman in a car as you're walking down the street, and you drop everything, literally, to meet her. Nothing can stop you. Your life is meaningless if you cannot be with her. This is how the novel starts, and set in an era when alien contact is a reality (and the aliens can teleport at will), how in a little genetic cloning, interplanetary gates, and an invasion, and you have a novel that makes ID4 look tame - you could punch the aliens in ID4, these guys just teleport away. It's an excellent novel, and the hero has some very real moments (he is so upset at one point that he shuts a communication off momentarily so he can weep) that makes this novel shine.

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Liege-Killer

Make no mistake, Liege-Killer is a very strange novel. The name gives little indication to just how bizarre it is, but it's an excellent insight into a new alien race (which consists of two beings who are similar to Siamese twins, but can merge at any time) that has a few surprises of its own. Enter our hero, a cryogenically frozen man out for vengeance (the Paratwa killed his wife), and a dwarf. Their specialty: to kill the unkillable Paratwa. This book has a pounding rhythm that matches its hero's mantra: I move, I am, I want, I take, I see, I learn, I grow, I make. The story ultimately ends in a bitter victory that makes you thirst for more.

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Those Who Hunt the Night

There are a lot of vampire books out there. Most of them have little to contribute to the vampire field, and a lot of them are formulaic exercises in putting vampires in situations you never see them in (vampire rock singers, vampire cops, etc.). Hambly uses a late gothic England to portray a vampire culture, not unfamiliar, but certainly refreshing. The vampires are being hunted by one of their own, and so they enlist the services of a British spy, the best (pitiful by vampire standards) humanity has to offer. When the protagonist seems reluctant, the vampires make the mistake of dragging his wife, a mortologist, into things. Part gothic horror, part science fact, Hambly treats vampires with respect without making us one of them. We are reminded how powerful, how beautiful, and how dangerous these beings can be. All that and a suprise ending too!

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Creating Cool Web Pages With Html

There are a lot of "The Web's so cool and if you just buy our book you can make a million dollars" kinds of books out there. I've gotten tired of them very quickly. For one, the Web is just new, it's not the salvation of mankind. For another, they always have some underlying motive (beyond making money), and usually its ramming their own web pages down your throat. Taylor doesn't do this. In fact, he makes you feel very welcome as he explains, in a pleasant narrative style, this big blob of networks called the Web. He's not condescending about it, he's not pushy about it, but he is excited about it, and it appears genuine. The book itself details the standard beginner stuff, with some advanced carrots that leave you drooling for more (I know how to do tables but how do I set up a counter?). Many of these books will disappear rapidly over time because of the advent of HTML editors like Netscape Gold, but this book will stick around - there's plenty in there for the advanced user too. One complaint: Dave, stop using Microsoft Internet Explorer!

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The Knights Templar and Their Myth

Taking a critical look at the slow and saddening destruction of the Templars, Partner removes the veil of superstition and occultism that has surrounded this knightly order for decades. It is a refreshing look at a disconcerting trend - the acceptance of history written by the winners. Too many New Age references casually mention Templars as having secret knowledge, and too many fundamentalists point to the Templars (and Masons, who have their roots in the Knights Templar) as signs of occult influence. The answer would not please either side: The Knights Templar were an ostracized group of warriors who were treated in a similar fashion to Vietnam veterans - losing a war is bad for business, and in the Templars' case, fatal.

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Red Dwarf : Series 3

I've been watching the Red Dwarf series in order, which means I'm not getting quite the same effect as if I had viewed the series on television. So I saw Season Three a week after viewing Season Two. I imagine TV series hold up much better when they're not viewed back-to-back.

Season Three is a complete reboot of Red Dwarf, in the same way that Alias reshuffled its characters but kept the show's premise the same. So what happened? You can find out if you slow the DVD down to read the Star Wars-like credits.

We last left Season Two with Dave Lister (Craig Charles) discovering that he had two children. For the first Season Lister figured he met a great bird (to use Brit slang) eventually, even though he was on a massive ship (Red Dwarf) with no other companions except a humanoid cat (Danny John-Jules) and a hologram (Rimmer played by Chris Barrie). Lister was in for a big surprise when it turns out that it was he who got pregnant, by sleeping with a female version of himself in a reverse universe where women impregnate men. So the twins Lister saw in a picture in one of the earlier episodes were indeed his.

Season Three explains that they kids grow to maturity due to the difference in parallel universes and that eventually Lister drops them off in their mother's parallel universe. Poof! No more twins/Lister pregnant plot.

Holly (Normal Lovett), the monotone droning computer who runs Red Dwarf has changed his appearance. Strangely, he changes it to the female computer he encountered in the parallel universe. Why the creators chose to do this is anyone's guess, but we're led to believe it's because Holly really, really liked the other computer. The new Holly (Hattie Hayridge) isn't so much a deadpan genius as a dithering bimbo with a wide-eyed, vacuous stare. No more "is Holly insane?" plot.

The android Kryten (Robert Llewellyn) that was in one episode in Season Two crashes into a planet. The Red Dwarf crew rescues and reconstructs him, which explains why he looks different. Remember how Kryten had gotten over his subservient attitude and drove off in biker leathers? That plot's over too.

In fact, the only characters that remain the same are Rimmer, Lister, and Cat. Rimmer's still annoying, although less antagonistic than before. Lister's still a slob. And Cat's still Prince with fangs.

When Red Dwarf is funny, it's side-splittingly funny. But those moments take a longer build up. In essence, there are better jokes in Season Three, but there aren't as many. A lot of time is spent developing characters and plots.

Unfortunately, there's increasingly less attention paid to any sort of internal logic to the show. There are a myriad of problems with the Backwards episode, where everyone on Earth does everything backwards (but it only sporadically affects the crew). Rimmer, the hologram who cannot physically interact with anything, increasingly seems to be able to touch and smell, get drunk, and run away in fear from a killer android. At one point, Rimmer even points out how badly Lister smells and then claims he can't smell anything in the very next episode.

There's a very significant shift in the show's focus, from just going for laughs to going for character development and popular science fiction movie references. There are better special effects and more obvious plots. Whereas the first two seasons of Red Dwarf were trailblazing forays because the show seemed innocently unaware of the rest of the science fiction genre, the third season is painfully aware of every movie trope, from the Star Wars scrolling text introduction to an alien that looks like an Alien to a big killer android named Hudson.

The show suffers a bit as a result. Red Dwarf simply didn't have the budget to start spoofing Aliens or any other science fiction show for that matter, and I ended up longing for more low-budget comedy rather than low-budget action. Kryten is a great addition to the crew, but at the sacrifice of Holly, who doesn't seem to have much to say.

Perhaps most unbelievable is that the characters violate each other in deeply personal ways that you can't imagine they would forgive: Rimmer takes over Lister's body, abuses it, and when Rimmer takes it back, Lister kidnaps it and abuses it even more. It's nasty stuff, if you think about it, and it makes Rimmer out to be so utterly unlikable that it's difficult to imagine the two trusting each other ever again.

But chances are viewers who watched the show for the first time weren't keeping track from episode to episode. The scriptwriters certainly relied on that fact. There's a price to be paid in the DVD age and attention to detail is one of them.

Funny? Yes. But I can't help but feel that Season Three is a bit of a step down from Season Two, reboot and all.

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Napoleon Dynamite

I didn't really want to see Napoleon Dynamite, but had that sick curiosity reserved for rubbernecking on the freeway and reality television. Then a friend let us borrow the DVD.

Napoleon Dynamite is about, well, Napoleon Dynamite (Jon Heder), a tall, frizzy-haired, spectacled geek of enormous proportions. Napoleon is a new breed of nerd: The Angry Nerd. Because he's not short, Napoleon is a little too powerful to routinely pick on. Instead, he's randomly slammed into lockers or mocked in gym. But Napoleon never curls up into a ball and weeps. He tells people "SHUT UP! GOSH!" or "Freakin idiot!" through half-closed lids. Everyone knows the Angry Nerd...he's voted Most Likely to Be a Serial Killer by his graduating class.

To be fair, Napoleon never had a chance. We're never told where his parents are, but he lives with his ATV-riding grandmother (Sandy Martin) and his painfully awkward older brother Kip (Aaron Ruell). Kip has a long distance relationship over the Internet with a woman known only as LaFawnduh (Shondrella Avery). Adding insult to injury, they own a pet llama named Tina and Napoleon has to take the bus to school with elementary kids.

And oh yeah, his first name is Napoleon and his last name is Dynamite.

Napoleon is also a gamer. I submit the following evidence:

Napoleon draws a manticore that he refers to as a liger. "It's pretty much my favorite animal," says Napoleon. "It's like a lion and a tiger mixed... bred for its skills in magic." When faced with a job putting chickens in cages, he asks, "Do the chickens have large talons?"

Yep, that's a guy who plays Dungeons & Dragons all right.

Or he would, if he had any friends. Napoleon eventually makes one friend, Pedro (Efren Ramirez), who is also ostracized at school because he's from Mexico. The so-white-its-bright faculty and students constantly look down Pedro upon. But Pedro is confident in his own subtle way. He asks girls out by baking them cakes and most importantly, he plans to run for school president.

Napoleon is not so lucky. He openly admits he has no skills (if this were a more up-to-date movie, Napoleon would say he has no "Mad Skillz"). Well, he has the ability to draw. Unfortunately, he only THINKS he can draw. His drawing sucks too.

So Napoleon lies. He lies about hunting wolverines, about his amazing martial arts prowess, about his non-existent girlfriend, about pretty much everything. Since everything Napoleon says is utterly deadpan, there's no easy way to tell if he's lying.

When Napoleon's grandmother has an ATV accident, his Uncle Rico (Jon Gries) comes to live with them. There's a subtle irony here: Rico is a failed football star that is perpetually stuck in the 80s. He is the ghost of the future, a vicious attack on all those high school jocks who would have gone pro if they hadn't messed up that knee. Rico's entire life is driven by one goal: to travel backwards in time. Once he discovers an expensive time travel kit on the Internet that will transport him backwards, he enlists Kip to join his get-rich-quick schemes. First it's Tupperware, then it's...breast enhancement products.

Yeah, Napoleon never had a chance.

In the middle of this insanity, Napoleon bumps into Deb (Tina Majorino), dressed in full 80s attire and trying to sell her friendship bracelets so someone (her? Her mom?) can go to college. It doesn't go well at first, but it's clear the two are destined for each other.

Eventually, Kip meets LaFawnduh, a luscious African-American woman from Detroit. Her arrival transforms Kip and the entire movie from then on, signaling a change from the 80s death by stagnation to an updated, hipper universe. No literal time travel happens, but suddenly the movie shifts gears and its 2004 again. And finally, all the characters begin some real emotional growth.

Much of the movie's humor centers on the sympathy or disdain we have for characters like Napoleon. A lot of the jokes are around mid-Western foils: the white town's reaction to an ethnic student, heavy usage of the word "sweet," and farmers shooting cows (in front of a busload of schoolchildren no less). Not everyone will get the jokes.

Perhaps more intriguing is the parallels between this film and Donnie Darko. Both films have superhero-esque names, both take place in primarily white high schools, both feature racism against a different ethnicity, both have adults teaching kids confidence building skills, both have a serious 80s fetish, and finally both feature an obsession with time travel. It's likely more people haven't made the connection between the two movies because few audiences have watched both.

Unlike Donnie Darko, the broad parodies of white Midwesterners are smeared with racist undertones. The two ethnic characters play to the most awful racial stereotypes: Pedro has a big family, scary relatives in pimped up cars, and is Catholic while LaFawnduh has long painted nails, lots of gold jewelry, and comes from Detroit.

Throughout the film, the director (Jared Hess), makes liberal use of the buzzing sound of a fly. It's a reminder that whenever we're laughing at Napoleon, we're the big jerks. Which really argues the point that perhaps this movie isn't supposed to be a comedy after all.

Ultimately, Napoleon Dynamite posits the question: what good ARE people like Napoleon? He's angry, rude, insensitive, socially inept, and seems to be in a perpetual daze most of the time. What ARE Napoleon's skills?

We get the answer in a climactic frenzy of events that culminate in the class election. Pedro promises in his speech that he will make "all your dreams come true," and in a sense, the film's conclusion is precisely that.

Sweet!

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The Forgotten

My parents liked The Forgotten. I mean, really, really like it. Once a week, they would ask "did you see The Forgotten?" And then when it came out on DVD, "did you rent The Forgotten?" Finally, they just bought the CD, propped toothpicks under my eyelids, and made me watch it.

Telly (Julianne Moore) and Jim Paretta (Anthony Edwards) and Ash Correll (Dominic West) have lost their children to a mysterious plane crash. Telly is a wreck, but she's trying to get better. She regularly visits a psychologist (Dr. Jack Munce played by Gary Sinise) to help her deal with her son Sam's (Christopher Kovaleski) death. Ash finds his counseling at the bottom of a bottle.

Then one day, all evidence of Sam disappears. And suddenly, everyone in Telly's life has forgotten she ever had a son.

It's a mother's worst nightmare multiplied by a thousand: it's bad enough that Telly loses her son, but her inability to grieve makes her pain all the worse. Convinced she is not insane, Telly tries to convince Ash that he had a daughter who also died in the plane crash. When she makes some progress, things get weird.

It's to the movie's credit that Telly and Ash never sleep together. This is a character piece, not a popcorn flick. Just in case the guys get bored, I should point out that we do get to see Telly in some decidedly unmatronly underwear. But that's about as hot as it gets.

Things go from bad to worse as NSA agents and a very weird guy that never blinks (Linus Roache) begin stalking the pair. They finally get a break when they turn the tables on an agent, knock him out, and begin forcefully interrogating him. When pressed, he finally admits, "they're listening." And then...

And then...

Well you know what happens because you saw the trailer. Indeed, if you've seen the trailer, you've correctly guessed the big secret behind the entire movie. And that's a shame, because the movie hangs much of its suspense and terror on that curious plot point.

Plot-wise, there are a lot of problems with The Forgotten. The fact that Ash (an ex-hockey player) and Telly (an editor, if I remember correctly) become these amazing commandos who can put the drop on an NSA agent seems fishy. That they then become an amazing Good Cop/Bad Cop duo that can wring the truth out of said agent is preposterous. But then, the movie doesn't invest too much in logic.

That's not to say that The Forgotten is boring. Once the first agent gets sucked up into the heavens, you're always waiting for it to happen again. Too bad the characters act as if they never witnessed such an event. I don't know about you, but if I watched the roof get blown off of a cabin and a grown man shoot skyward, I'd be burrowing underground and hiding in subways. I would NOT 1) stand outside, talking about the insanity of it all, 2) drive in open country, talking about the insanity of it all, 3) run around on beaches, talking about...you get the picture.

The movie really hinges on Moore's acting ability, which is in full strength here. At least, her tear ducts are; it's a rare moment when she's not weeping. Still, she manages to switch between motherly love, heartbreaking sorrow and parental rage with expression alone. West makes a great ex-hockey player, but he's a little too conflicted to scratch beneath his surface. Just about everyone else is window dressing, or worse, mumbles their lines. That includes Sinise, who really deserves more respect.

Joseph Ruben expertly directs the movie, with long floating shots and stalker-cam views. Almost all of The Forgotten is filmed with a blue lens, and the music is perfectly matched to the mood. Let there be no doubt, The Forgotten's got style.

But ultimately it's a movie without a lot of depth. The alternate version explains things a bit more but has far less pathos. In the end, The Forgotten feels a lot like a really creepy Twilight Zone episode than a fully formed movie.

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On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

I've never been fond of Stephen King's works.

That's not to say I don't have tremendous respect for the man. Heck, I'm green with envy over his success. I'm not quite as envious over his scriptwriting career, but that's still more produced scripts than I have (0). There are exactly two stories I've read that I actually enjoyed: the short story "The Cat from Hell" and the novel "The Eyes of the Dragon." A lot of people have read "The Eyes of the Dragon," so I won't dwell on it other than to say that it's a fantasy novel and not a bad one at that.

Virtually no one has heard of "The Cat from Hell," which I stumbled across as a child looking for short stories about fantastic characters. Boy did I get one, a terrifying tale of an assassin hired to execute a cute little kitty that turns out to be far more dangerous than anyone could ever imagine. I don't think Mr. King doesn't like cats.

Anyway, what I've since read from King since often seemed like it meandered. Where "The Cat from Hell" was a tight, gripping story, there has since been a lot of farting, nose picking, and other silliness interspersed through King's novels that turn me off. It's like a kid making farting sounds with his armpit during a scary movie...hard to be scared when someone's giggling behind you.

On Writing explains King's approach and more. It also sums up a lot of King's life, a life that would make exceptionally fertile material for his later horror movies. Most significantly, the book is refreshingly honest. King doesn't think his works are masterpieces, but he does believe he is an artist and a successful one. He talks about it like it is, explaining what it takes to be a writer and more significantly, what will make you a GOOD writer. King has little respect for writing classes. In fact, one could argue On Writing is the first and last book anyone needs about writing.

For King, the most important aspect of writing is telling the truth: about oneself, about what you know, about whom you know, and how you know it. His clear-minded approach cuts through the usual claptrap about high art, English teacher sophisms, and notions about what it means to be a "success." King really gives it his all, baring his heart and soul and admitting to some very nasty things in his life that nearly ended his career.

Then King was hit by a van.

That last chapter is riveting, not the least of which is because it is as if the book's wisdom is put to the test. King, in detail that only he can describe, explains just what happened. And it all seems a lot like his novels, a real life horror story.

The highest compliment I can give this book is that it sent me straight back to my writing, the "closed door" kind, the kind written for the Ideal Reader, the kind that is what I know not what I think I should know.

King inspires prospective authors to write the Truth. And that's more valuable than all his other books put together.

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Sideways

I heard so much about Sideways that I had a completely twisted view as to what it was supposed to be about. I knew it was funny, I knew it was about wine snobs, and I knew it had a lot of good acting-enough to merit an Oscar nod.

What nobody tells you is that Sideways is about a wine snob (Miles, played by Paul Giamatti) who's a neurotic eighth-grade English teacher trying to get his novel published. Or that it's not really about wine at all, but mostly about sex. Or that it's not even really about sex, but mostly about relationships, fidelity, life and death, success and failure, happiness and sorrow. In short, it's a romantic comedy dressed up as a road trip. Anyone who thinks the movie is an art film about guys discussing wine and standing around in sun-dappled fields of grape is in for a rude surprise.

In fact, come to think of it, there were a lot of grandmotherly types who looked utterly horrified after the movie ended. Read on if you want to understand whether or not this movie is for you.

Jack (Thomas Haden Church), Miles' college roommate, is going to get married. Miles plans to take Jack out for one week on a manly tour of the wineries of northern California with a little golf interspersed throughout. Jack has other plans.

Jack is a formerly famous actor from a soap who now only does voiceovers for commercials. Tanned and with an awful mop that looks like a hair transplant, Jack sees this trip as an opportunity to get laid. In essence, this is his last fling...the world's worst (or perhaps best, depending on your perspective) bachelor party.

Discussions of wine are mostly relegated to making Miles look like the awkward, mawkish nerd of the pair. Everyone knows somebody likes Miles. Dressed in rumpled sweaters, balding and with a slight lisp, Miles is everybody's English teacher and sad sack friend. Jack, on the other hand, is the frat buddy who refuses to let go of his college years.

It doesn't take long before Jack begins projecting his lifestyle onto Miles. Miles has been divorced and never quite recovered, so Jack sees it as his responsibility to also get Miles laid. This incidentally makes Jack feel better, as Miles is his only guilty conscience.

The object of Miles' affection is Maya (Virginia Madsen), a recently divorced waitress at a restaurant appropriately names The Hitching Post. Jack discovers a willing companion in another winery's hostess, Stephanie (Sandra Oh). This merry quartet ends up double dating with varying degrees of success.

We follow Miles' ups and downs as he worries about meeting a woman, grumbles about his own mealy mouthed presence, argues with Jack over his infidelity, and ultimately despairs over his writing career. At his lowest moment, Miles sneaks into his mother's house and steals money from her. There's not a lot to like about Miles.

And yet it would be hypocrisy to merely condemn him. In fact, what's exhilarating about Sideways is that the characters appears to be caricatures but are actually fleshed out personalities. The stereotypes that define the two characters slowly dissolve, even as they accuse each other of being a stereotype. Jack is clearly the dominant personality, but eventually he screws things up so badly that only Miles can save him. It's one of the funniest scenes in the movie. It also happens to involve male full frontal nudity. And it's more Al Bundy than Brad Pitt nudity.

AAAGH! I STILL can't get that out of my head! Now I must think of sandpaper to scrape that off my brain!

Anyway, the script is clever enough to allow the characters varying degrees of subtlety in their conversation, comparing their lives to wine. The beauty of the film is that it's not about wine--it could have been about coffee, really-but about how people view themselves and relate to each other. Maya and Miles' conversation about why they like wine is as much a dialogue about the grape as it is about their own relationships.

And that's the charm of Sideways. Faced with major life changes, Jack and Miles take that one week to utterly regress. Maybe they don't quite take a step back because they've stumbled backwards so far already, but they certainly move sideways: in their lives, in their careers, in their relationships. Ultimately, the movie ends on a high note, although perhaps bittersweet.

Any man who has struggled with marriage and adulthood will thoroughly enjoy this movie. Any author that battles to get his book published (guilty as charged!) will sympathize with Miles' struggle. And yes, wine aficionados will probably enjoy it too.

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Red Dwarf: Series 2

After watching the first season of Red Dwarf, I wasn't expecting very much from the second season. I figured it'd be more of the same...cheap sets, the slob and the neat freak, and some crazy cross between James Brown and a feline bouncing around on screen.

I was right...it's all that and more. But I was wrong to think it would be boring. The show actually takes the time to explore the characters and really get into their heads. In season 2, the show hits its stride.

David Lister (Craig Charles) is still Lister, but he's more subdued. Someone finally realized that watching a slob be a slob is funny in small doses. Which is good, because Lister got on my nerves after awhile. More screen time is given to Arnold Judas Rimmer (Chris Barrie), the real star of the show. It's easy to figure out why Lister is a pig, but the uptight Rimmer is much more intriguing. We delve into his neuroses as well as his past. And Cat (Danny John-Jules) exists primarily as Lister's foil. His quieter screen presence helps let the show be funny rather than distracting.

It is in this season that we first meet Kryten the android (David Ross), a manservant who isn't too good at determining the liveliness of his hosts. We learn about Lister's love life, the death of Rimmer's father (a touching scene that's played straight even though everyone's long dead anyway), watch the blokes play in a virtual reality game, mess with time travel, and enter a parallel universe where women rule.

I can't harp on this point enough: a lot of other science fiction shows ripped off Red Dwarf. Lister gets pregnant by a female, just like Charles Tucker in "Unexpected" on Star Trek: Enterprise. The holographic game is just like the movie eXistenz, right down to the "are we still in the game" twist. And don't even get me started on the time travel plot.

Red Dwarf isn't afraid to mess with its characters something serious. Lister feels bad for Rimmer's lack of a love life, so he transplants a few months of his own romance into the hologram's memory. What a mind-screw that is! Speaking of messing with their minds, Holly at one point decides to play the meanest practical joke in history. Only Red Dwarf has the courage to pull off entire episodes that are fake or inconclusive.

Indeed, Red Dwarf often ends without any solid conclusion. Characters wander off into the bowels of the city (where the heck DID that android go?) and storylines are dropped, only to be picked up in later episodes. Having been exposed the first two seasons of Red Dwarf for the first time ever, I'm looking forward to the show's evolution.

It may be wacky, it may sometimes not make sense, but Red Dwarf's influence on science fiction should not be underestimated. All that, and it's really funny too.

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Red Dwarf: Series 1

I've never seen Red Dwarf and really had no specific interest in watching it. But my wife rented it, so it was only a matter of time before I was sucked into the madness that is Red Dwarf.

What is Red Dwarf? Why, it's Star Trek: Voyager. That not good enough for you? I speak as a Red Dwarf newbie, so if you're a rabid fan of the series you can skip this.

Still here? Okay: Red Dwarf is actually a ship. A big, ugly floating city. It's a mining colony, to be precise, and it's crewed by a bunch of folks who are much like the working blue-collar slobs you might find in any city. The closest approximation to the atmosphere is the workaday life of the poor saps that get eaten in the movie Alien. It's grungy, it's gritty, and it's very easy to identify with the crew.

One-armed robots known as "scutters" zip around the ship, performing maintenance jobs at the behest of Holly (Norman Lovett), the ship's computer. Holly appears as a floating head on computer screens; a balding, monotone-voiced face with bad teeth and deadpan delivery. Just about everything else has the possibility of talking on the ship, from the food dispensers to toasters. Most integral to the technology are the holographics, used to recreate one dead crewmember whose knowledge is too important to the mission of Red Dwarf. In essence, the hologram is a technological ghost, able to interact with everyone (even sleeping) but incapable of touching or being touched.

Our two main characters are Dave Lister (Craig Charles), an uber-slacker who pretty much doesn't want to do anything but get drunk, high, or laid and his manager, Arnold J. Rimmer (Chris Barrie), an uptight, neurotic stick in the mud. They hate each other with a passion, a problem exacerbated by Lister's insistence on bringing an illegal animal (a cat, played by...well, a cat) on board. This leads to Lister being put into stasis, a sort of benign punishment straight out of Judge Dredd: the prisoner is put in suspended animation and doesn't actually experience the passage of time.

Then Something Bad Happens ™ that kills off everyone on board. Except Lister, who is safely ensconced in his stasis prison.

Three MILLION years pass.

...

That's right, THREE MILLION YEARS. If there's a concept I had difficulty wrapping my mind around, it's the implications of what it means to have three million years pass you by. A lot can happen in three million years. A lot probably SHOULD have happened in three million years. But Red Dwarf had a small budget to start, so you'll have to forgive the three million questions that undoubtedly pop up about a ship in space for three million years. I mean, metal degrades in three million years, doesn't it?

Anyway, the assumption in Red Dwarf is that most things kept working as they always did. Which really does beg the question as to why there was ever a crew in the first place (and perhaps verifies Lister's belief that he may as well slack off as none of it makes any difference).

Lonely and a little crazy, Holly wakes up Lister. To Lister's horror, Holly uses the holographics to recreate the crewmember "most important to the mission," to keep Lister from going crazy: Rimmer. Rimmer's more or less the same as his past self, except he has a huge "H" glued to his head. Rounding out the cast is the evolutionary descendant of the cat Lister brought on board, known only as Cat (Danny John-Jules). Cat is basically Prince with fangs...my wife, who never saw the first season prior to renting the DVD, thought he was a vampire.

If there's a weakness in the show, it's Cat. He has little to do and is only really amusing to people who have cats, in which case he's either hilarious or very obvious. He does help liven the show up by hopping around and screeching in colorful outfits in a series that tends to have very little movement. There's also the dreadful long shots of the model that is Red Dwarf. These boring pans seem to take place every five minutes and make you really feel like you're trapped on the ship along with Lister. I'm not sure that's a good thing.

The humor is decidedly British, which is good if you're British and not quite as good if you're not. There are a lot of references to European popular culture that are easily lost on Americans (I know I was confused a couple of times) as well as 80s references that really date the show. Still, I was a child of the 80s so I got most of those jokes.

What's amazing about Red Dwarf is its ability to go for the absolutely lowest fart jokes and simultaneously work in high-minded science fiction concepts. Everything from faster-than-light travel, time travel, and holographic technology is explored at any one point in time. This can make the series both confusing and surprisingly fresh, depending on the circumstances.

The first season has almost no budget, but that only adds to the claustrophobia. It does have a lot of funny witticisms, but you have to get past the accents. Lister slurs a lot of his lines (as well he should), which makes him sometimes difficult to follow. But I find it difficult to be too harsh with the show...it's like criticizing an off-Broadway show for being off-Broadway.

What's most telling is how much Red Dwarf influenced other science fiction shows. Star Trek Voyager is an almost play-by-play rip off of Red Dwarf, down to the holographic doctor, the resident comic alien, and the fact that the crew is so far out in space that no laws apply. The only thing that's missing is hostile aliens, but I'm sure they'll turn up soon enough.

It may not be the most polished production, but Red Dwarf did it first.

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Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is another Jim Carey movie I wasn't too sure about. He's had a better track record lately with his more serious films, so I was willing to give it a shot. And I'm glad I did.

Combining all the mental hijinks of Memento and the mind-bending, "is this reality?" confusion of movies like Strange Days and eXistenz, the movie essentially posits one question: if you could erase any one experience from your mind, would you?

But before we get to that question, we see Joel Barish (Jim Carey) meet Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet) on a train. It's supposedly happenstance, and the two hit it off immediately. These first five minutes carry the whole movie. The two actors exhibit just enough nuanced familiarity that it's alternately exhilarating and creepy-they FEEL like they've known each other their entire lives. The rest of the movie then swings back to the circumstances leading up to their meeting.

Joel has, in fact, met Clementine before and had a whirlwind romance that somewhere along the lines lost its whirl. They are strikingly different personalities who find attraction in their opposite: Joel is cautious, Clementine's a maniac. Joel is quiet (hard to believe Carey playing quiet, I know), Clementine is a bundle of energy. They alternately drive each other crazy and are crazy about each other. But unfortunately, the nature of the relationship is so tempestuous that the possibility of erasing one's memory is simply too tempting. Like a madman with a pocket nuke, it's inevitable that Clementine's personality will succumb to the lure of memory erasing...but the consequences have grave repercussions.

Hurt and desperate, Clementine's brash decision pushes Joel to do the same thing. If she's going to erase him, well he's going to do the same thing right back at her! It's a procedure that takes an entire night and it's only a few days into the erasing of her memories that Joel realizes he LIKES his pain, his angst, his embarrassment, and even his hatred of her. The ups and downs, the good and bad parts of their relationship, are ultimately inseparable, and Joel realizes he will lose a part of his soul along with Clementine should his memory of her be erased.

So he fights it. Thus have another plot thread, as Joel drags his memory of Clementine with him through the dark hallways of his mind. All the while, Joel is pursued in the real world by the Lacuna Memory Erasure team. Dr. Howard Mierzwiak (Tom Wilkinson) leads the team, a kindly father figure who is not nearly as nice as he seems. Stan (Mark Ruffalo) and Patrick (Elijah Wood) assist the good doctor, making an on-site visit to Joel's house. Which is at least as horrifying as it is comedic, because while Joel is in a drugged coma on his bed, Stan and Patrick eat his food, drink his beer, get high, and practically have an orgy in his apartment.

Like Memento, Spotless Mind posits that when people aren't looking, the ethics of society don't just fall apart, they explode...whatever you imagine people might do to you while you're helpless is just the tip of the iceberg. Patrick proves just who unethical he is when we discover he has decided to take advantage of Clementine by recycling all of Joel's memories-memories that were supposedly destroyed to complete the erasure process.

As if that weren't enough, Dr. Mierzwiak's assistant Mary (Kirsten Dunst), is dating Stan. The secret she uncovers about herself and her work will shatter the Lacuna program and the lives of all those who it touched.

The director takes an innovative twist on how he conveys the dream world. Images become faded and indistinct. Sound crackles in and then whispers away. Some scenes appear to be lit exclusively by a flashlight, perfectly representing the selective memory of Joel's mind. Other scenes are lensed in distinct colors of yellow and blue. Still other scenes are nightmarish-people are faceless, bodies slide off into darkness, and as Joel's mind stumbles under the technological assault, structures and people literally collapse in front of him.

Ultimately, it's Charlie Kaufman's writing that perfectly blends what could be a horrible mess. Just when you think all the various plotline could not possibly be resolved...we're back at that train, and the thrill and awkwardness of that first attraction.

Spotless Mind is about the maturation of a romance and the decision every couple must go through when they realize that the "honeymoon is over." Joel and Clementine come to a crossroads and stumble horribly astray, just as so many couples fall apart every day without the benefit of erasing the memories of their exes. Love, Kaufman seems to say, is about the person you are after the honeymoon is over.

Carey is suitably restrained, which makes him seem all the more pathetic when the movie focuses on the happier, more energetic times. His hair is a mop top, is sweaters always rumpled. In short, he's a sad sack that Carey captures perfectly...a funny man who has nothing to laugh about.

Dunst plays a perfectly awkward, clueless young girl dealing with a technology she does not understand. Her characters growth, destruction, and rebirth steals the show. The other characters are suitably dazed and confused, not the least of which is Wood's not-Frodo-anymore Patrick. He's so fresh-faced, it's hard to believe he's doing such disrespectful things to Clementine.

But by far, Winslet plays the most compelling character of her career. Winslet not only adopts an American accent, she plays Clementine as herself (a sometimes whiny, neurotic mess), as Joel remembers her (erotically playful, maddeningly confusing, and sometimes just a shrew), and as echoes of Joe's memories. This is a lot to pull off for anybody, but Winslet never missed a beat.

Perhaps the biggest compliment I can give this movie is that I KNOW these people. See it, and you will too.

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In Conquest Born

In Conquest Born is about two individuals of different races whose worlds collide. One race is highly psionic, the other is terribly close-minded. One is golden-skinned, the other pale. One is a free-thinking society, the other rules by a strict and secretive nobility. The female protagonist, having witnessed her parents' horrible death at a tender age, is unleashed as a psionic secret-agent against the other side, where she wanders throughout the universe looking for a mate who can survive her mental and physical powers. The meeting between the two is a bit confusing (I read it twice and even now try to guess what REALLY happened), but rewarding. A novel that starts with a whimper and ends with a bang.

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Star Trek Chronology: The History of the Future

This book is a must have for any serious Star Trek fan. It details the time-line of the often confusing Star Trek universe in careful academic detail, yet the narrative is entertaining enough to make it readable from cover to cover. The pictures are rife throughout the book and intelligently placed (a big gripe of mine is when people show you pictures of things you don't care to see, or put pictures far away from the text referring to them), and there are plenty of discussions about character designs, star ships, and other subtle nuances and contradictions that a book of this depth inevitably stumbles across. Buy it...it will make the Star Trek universe a bit more comprehensible...and a lot more enjoyable.

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Eye in the Sky: A Novel

Eye in the Sky was written by the eponymous Philip K. Dick, he of Blade Runner ("Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?") and The Running Man, among other seemingly made for the big screen novels. Dick's meditations on consciousness are a running theme throughout all of his works, and Eye in the Sky is no different. In this tale, our hero Jack Hamilton and has just been given a choice at his military contractor job, where he works at a facility that contains the particle accelerator known as the Bevatron. Jack's wife, Marsha, is suspected of being a Communist sympathizer, and as a result Jack's job is at risk. Adding to the betrayal, Jack's friend Charles McFeyffe is head of security and leads the prosecution against them.

With Jack questioning his own wife's loyalty and choosing between his marriage and his career, Jack, Marsha, Charles, and a few other folks take a tour of the newly operating Bevatron. Then disaster strikes.

The Bevatron's particle beam tears through the visitor catwalk above, dumping eight people into it, including Jack, Marsha, and Charles, along with Bill Laws, an African-American scientist reduced to giving tours of the Bevatron; Arthur Silvester, a fundamentalist World War II veteran; Joan Reiss, a neurotic secretary; and Edith Pritchert and her son, a prim-and-proper patron of the arts. While their bodies lay crumpled on rubble of the broken Bevatron, their consciousnesses are whisked away to alternate universes created by each of the visitors.

In some ways, Dick was light years ahead of his time. Although the novel is obviously dated by references to McCarthyism, the challenges posed by each world couldn't be more apt for our modern times. The first world, created by Silvester, is a fundamentalist's dream, combining geocentric Christian and Islamic beliefs. Dick skewers both religions with one deft chapter, and the reference to Eye in the Sky has (among other parallels) a literal manifestation in Silvester's God. That's right, he's a big Eye of Sauron, so big that it looks like a gigantic lake.

Silvestri's world is either terrifying or hilarious, depending on your perspective. With the divine so intimately real, prayers manifest (one simply prays for money), God's wrath is always around the corner (transforming straying believers into hunchbacked damned souls), and science is a cult that nobody seriously practices. Dick shows just how capricious and dangerous an old Testament God would be, and the difficulty of navigating a modern world with such an omniscient presence.

And yet, Silvester's world has laws. Subsequent worlds range from the bizarre to the outright terrifying. Pritchet's world is one of absolute tranquility, a super-filter that causes anything offending Edith to disappear from existence. Again, Dick hits the mark: in the world of Tivo, the Internet, and politicized news channels, the ability to filter out dissenting opinions has become all too common. If it were literally true, Dick demonstrates how what might on the surface seem ideal rapidly descends into a very personal hell.

The next world is by far the most terrifying; If Mrs. Pritchet found everything offensive, Reiss is afraid of it all. The water is poisoned, houses literally try to eat you, and lurking inside every one of us is a cold, calculating insect just dying to burst free...

The final world brings us back to the crux of the conflict for Jack and Marsha - a Communist's view of what America must be like. The identity of the creator will ultimately determine if Marsha is guilty of being a Communist.

The book is not without its flaws. Dick comes off very much a political author who doesn't necessarily know the targets he skewers. A fight with angels devolves into a peculiar human-like brawl, with angels being kicked in the groin, skewered in the spleen with a hatpin (seriously), and otherwise being beaten up as if they were common thugs. No fundamentalist worth his bible would ever believe angels could be so easily defeated, much less beaten up.

Bill Laws, the African-American, is cast in a sympathetic light, but he has little to do. Laws never gets his own world and thus he seems more of a caricature, content only to chastise Jack on his own hypocrisy. Marsha comes off as whiny and self-centered, and her supposed interest in political causes makes her seem more like a suburban socialite with too much time on her hands than a believable advocate of human rights. And then there's Jack, who just comes off as an arrogant jerk most of the time.

And yet, Eye in the Sky is so far ahead of its time. Dick has set up a perfect series of foibles to demonstrate his own beliefs, and in doing so shows how we all barter our individual freedoms for religion (Silvester), peace (Pritchet), security (Reiss), and democracy.

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Author Unknown: Tales of a Literary Detective

I've been on the Internet before there was a Web, met my wife over a Multi-User Dungeon, and wrote my master's thesis on how anonymity on the Internet makes people act out. The notion of determining the true identity of anonymous sources really appealed to me, especially since I've been the victim of more than one anonymous attack on the Internet.

And thus we have Author Unknown. My version is titled "On the Trail of Anonymous" as opposed to "Tales of a Literary Detective" - near as I can tell, it's the same book with different packaging. Which is good, because my version's cover is of a book with glasses resting on it--not very interesting. That cover exemplifies some of the problems with Author Unknown.

Don Foster is an English professor. He works in an English professor's office, he writes like an English professor, and he stumbles around in bewilderment in the "real world," solving crimes and battling other evil skeptics. He seems to have a magical ability to determine authorship through contextual cues, an ability he never explains in detail. Armed with his trusty sidekick SHAXICON (a mysterious search program that's never mentioned once in the book), the hapless Dr. Foster wages a one-man-and-computer war against those who would cloak themselves in anonymity.

The delicious revenge such a skill can bring about is especially evident when Foster tracks down his anonymous peer reviewers. Foster slices right through it all. And what anonymous villains does our hero vanquish? The author of Primary Colors! The Unabomber! Wand Tinasky! Monica Lewinsky! Clement Clarke Moore! Shakespeare himself!

In between all this detective work is a lot of inside baseball. Foster has all the insufferable qualities of an academic, including the habit of quoting everyone and everything else even marginally relevant to the subject at hand, a lot of self-pitying "but I'm just a poor English professor!", and certain assumptions that the reader knows every detail of say, the famed Talking Points or even Primary Colors. Author Unknown has aged poorly.

You won't find much detail on how Foster actually gets to the bottom of his mysteries. SHAXICON seems to do a lot of the work and Foster pieces together the rest. Sometimes Foster leads up to the Big Reveal, and other times he simply tells the reader who the culprit is and then backs into his argument. This makes the book wildly uneven, interesting in one chapter and very boring in the next.

What's shocking is how unscientific the literary world really is. Foster's work is the analysis of text in a scientific way, a way that is now accessible to everyone on the planet in a little tool you might have heard of called Google. Back then, this was big news. Now, a man who knows how to use a specialized search engine? Not so much.

If you're looking for guidance on how to track down your anonymous detractors, this book will not help you. If you're looking for a mildly interesting tale about the evolution of scientific inquiry applied to literature and search tools, then Author Unknown will be enlightening. And if you want to know the true origins of Santa's reindeer, it's a must read.

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Mask of the Sorcerer

I bought Mask of the Sorcerer from Darrell Schweitzer at World Fantasy Con. I was writing a modern horror novel at the time and was interested in seeing different takes on forbidden knowledge. Darrell fished out Mask of the Sorcerer.

As other reviewers have pointed out, the cover is awful. It looks like a guy wearing a mask, which is appropriate enough, except he seems to be holding one of those Godzilla-headed sticks that, when you press a lever, causes its mouth to open and close. In practice, this book is about Sebek-like crocodile-headed gods and monsters, but I don't think Schweitzer had Godzilla-sticks in mind when he wrote the book. Fortunately, I bought it from the author rather than off the shelf, so the cover didn't influence me much.

Set in a fantasy version of Ancient Egypt, Mask of the Sorcerer follows Sekenre, a boy who will become a sorcerer whether he likes it or not. His idyllic but simple life as a Reedlander is interrupted when his father, Vashtem, kills his mother and sister. Sekenre is left all alone to puzzle out what happened and why, but he is destined for greater things. The Sybil, an ancient crone who handles the mysteries of fate, has bigger plans for him and bestows three wishes for when he is in trouble.

The world in which Mask of the Sorcerer takes place in is richly detailed. Much is made about the way characters pronounce the names of certain gods, which determines where the person comes from. The notion of one's origins is a central to the book, as Sekenre unravels his father's past and his own.

A sorcerer is actually the sum of the sorcerers who have died at his hand. Thus, when Sekenre kills a sorcerer, he gains all the lives that were slain before him. These ghostly sorcerers can manifest themselves with Sekenre, having arguments and dispensing advice. Mask of the Sorcerer has a lot in common with the Avatar cartoon, which details a similar young lad who has the souls of many others inside him for advice. It also has a sense of finality seen in the Highlander, in that all the sorcerers ultimately see each other as foes to be defeated and consumed.

Mask of the Sorcerer is at its best when Sekenre deals with mundane events. As a young boy, Sekenre barely comprehends the world outside of his father's hut. As a sorcerer, he can rely on generations who have gone before for advice. Occasionally, the book becomes so dreamy that it's difficult to determine what's happening - Sekenre's travels into the afterlife and other worlds get a little confusing.

There are occasional references to the Cthulhu Mythos. There is mention of Dholes, but the magic that arises has nothing to do with Dholes. If I remember correctly, there was also a mention of the Voorish Sign. But these references are unnecessary and a little jarring in such a finely crafted world.

Ultimately, this is a tale of a boy becoming a man becoming a sorcerer becoming a god. It is the rare fantasy tale that casts divine aspiration in a different context from the typical Greek god mode. It never feels forced or false. While it occasionally wanders into incomprehensibility at times, Mask of the Sorcerer is a breath of fresh air in a genre crowded by typical fantasy conventions with trite cosmologies.

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