Comforting in its relatability

I don't really seek out Jesse Eisenberg films. Despite his legions of fans, most notably for his starring turn in The Social Network (a film which, despite my affection for David Fincher's work, I found fairly boring), I've always that he was a bit too typecast for my taste. Most of his roles play up the nerdy, insecure guy and, as soon as you see him, you know that's what you're going to get, which tends to make a lot of what goes on around him equally predictable. Of course, that sense of reliability also creates a sense of relatability, since his most frequent character is a reflection of any number of introverts that we all know in our lives in various fashions. But A Real Pain, which he wrote, directed, and starred in as that same, nerdy, insecure guy and despite being obvious in some respects, actually turned out to be a step above the comfort food level of many of his other films. He was doing his same, old thing, but combining that with the absolute explosion that is Kieran Culkin made for a story that had multiple levels of insight on their characters and relationships, in general, which is always a positive outcome in my book.

The story is not particularly original, since it's something that many people have done and still seek to do throughout the ages: come face to face with their or their family's place of origin. Eisenberg and Culkin play two cousins who visit Poland to see their ancestral homeland and the home of their grandmother who survived the camps of World War II. On a guided tour with a few other people (among them Jennifer Grey), they subject all of them to Benji's (Culkin) emotionally overwrought behavior combined with brutal honesty and David's (Eisenberg) attempts to make up for his cousin's confrontational attitude to them, their tour guide (Will Sharpe, most recently seen in the second season of The White Lotus), and the surrounding locals. The title, at this point, becomes pointed, not only because it's the obvious joke, but also because Culkin, just as he so often did in the brilliant Succession, tends to overwhelm the atmosphere of any scene that he's in. If the story was intended to have deeper meaning, his antics completely wipe out that possibility for a decent chunk of the film. The highlight is the scene of the two cousins jumping a train back to Lublin to return to their tour after David fell asleep and Benji, despite being aware that they missed their stop, deciding that he was sleeping too peacefully to disturb him. Priorities are in question throughout the film but usually to highlight the willingness to engage life that is Benji's character. And that's where things begin to turn.

Despite Benji being on a rampage for much of the first half of the film, the deft turns taken by Eisenberg as actor, writer, and director steer us back to the central message which is the emotional awareness of not just the amount of tragic history that still cloaks the area, but the very personal struggles that arise from confronting that history and which both Benji and David are carrying with them; not just about their recently-deceased grandmother, but about their roles in this life and what meaning they may have to both of them. In some ways, it's still a comfortable and, thus, predictable message, but it's delivered with enough humor (the absolute mundanity of finding their grandmother's home, only to be accosted by the neighbors on a very pragmatic level) and insight to see the grander picture that those underlying themes touch upon. And this is to say nothing of the timeliness, given that the incoming government of the US seems intent on returning us to the era of mass internment camps and all of the potential horrors that go with them. The most poignant moment of the emotional parade that is this story may be the final scene, watching Benji sitting in the airport by himself, still considering just what everything means and where he fits into it all. Been there.

So, yes, despite Eisenberg doing the thing again and despite the overall plot not being anything mindblowing, I think there's enough texture here to recommend this film; not least for Culkin's performance, but also for the writing that led him there and Eisenberg's capable direction to keep us aware of all of the levels on which his story works. Not a masterpiece, but a really solid step forward.

Where I can't feel anything for a bunch of emotionless people

Last night was another of those moments when I'm beginning to feel firmly detached from modern cinema and especially modern cinema criticism because I can't for the life of me understand what was so compelling about the film we saw that would have critics raving about it, not least because it won the Palm d'Or at Cannes. That film is Anora. It's another Sean Baker production and I agreed to see it for precisely that reason. It's described as a "romantic comedy", which is normally something that I would avoid like it was on fire because most of them are awful. But Baker has a lot of credit in the bank with me because of two previous films: The Florida Project and Red Rocket. The former is a great example of the chasm in understanding between the privileged few and the underserved many in our nation. It's a story with pathos and one that most decent humans could feel sympathy for, in the same way that we watch Willem Dafoe make his own life more difficult in the name of making his tenants' a tiny bit easier. The latter is one of the best things we've ever seen at the Michigan/State theaters. It's a fantastic example of overweening ambition and the obvious impending failure that it leads to (reach exceeds thy grasp or thy Johnson, as the case may be.) Both of those films are replete with examples of genuinely human characters and their genuinely human circumstances and reactions to same. As many have said about Shakespeare: characters will drive your stories and make them last. Both of those stories have that. Anora... does not.

We're presented with a situation that is a young woman's (Mikey Madison) fairly successful stripping/escort career, since she lives in a comfortable home with her sister in Brighton Beach and works at what is implied as an upscale club, probably somewhere in the Lower East Side. She meets an incredibly wealthy young Russian ne'er-do-well (Mark Eydelshteyn) whom she entrances and then convinces to pay her a substantial fee to hang out with him as his "girlfriend" for a week. So far, everything is paved with gold here. But then his family finds out and their servants here in the States come to disrupt this Shangri-La, which is where our story veers from Pretty Woman to Uncut Gems. Anyone who remembers my review of the latter film will recall that I found it to be both tedious and obnoxious, which is a morbidly impressive combination. So our story of the stripper whose life is already pretty cozy and only gets better throughout the first act is suddenly turned into a 25-minute-long home invasion scene where everyone is screaming at each other and, just like with Uncut Gems, is basically being a collection of obnoxious New Yorkers failing to communicate. Just as with that film, I have no concept of how this can be entertaining to anyone. What's worse is that none of the characters involved are even remotely interesting. They're not human. They're ciphers. Pretty Woman is usually discarded as fluff because it is, failing to even approach the reality of working women in LA. Same thing here. What would make me feel sympathy for Ani's situation or person when we don't see her even stepping up from the level of hiding the rent in the toilet tank before dating the millionaire? The worst crisis she encounters before the family servants come barging in is being woken up early by her sister. It never feels like she's latching on to that one thing she's been waiting for and is then traumatized by having it swept away from her. Instead, we've basically watched her just take advantage of the situation (as most would do) and not be too troubled by any of it.

In truth, the only genuinely interesting character in the whole film is Igor (Yura Borisov), one of those thugs who breaks in to disrupt her moment with the wayward Russian heir. What makes him interesting is that we simply watch his face for the entire invasion scene, largely agog at what's happening around him and clearly not quite understanding why he's there in the first place. I really enjoyed Borisov in Compartment No. 6 and was happy to see him again, being just as effective in this role as he was as Lyokha on the train. As the one person not being bombastic but merely trying to survive the ride, he struck me as the one person reacting like most people would in that situation. In other words, as I will say again and again in all of my criticism, he was human. And acting human while everyone else was chewing scenery. He maintains that humanity even as things take a sharp turn into sentimentality in act 3. This would be the point where said sentiment is supposed to engender sympathy from the average American moviegoer. But Baker's films have never been about that, so I don't suspect that that was his intention. But the problem is that, even if it was, none of these characters, including Ani, had done anything throughout this story to generate that sympathy. Everything kind of slid off of her and so she kind of slid off of us, pants on or not. By the end of the film, we still don't really know who she is other than perhaps a vague sensation that she's been brazening her way through most of her life and this was the one time she couldn't call the shots? If that's all you have in terms of character development, then we are a long way from earlier examples of Baker's work.

And, yet, critics are raving about it (97% on RT; the Palm d'Or(!)) and all I can ask is: What am I missing? I look at this film and think of my usual later-Ridley Scott criticism: It's more spectacle than story. I mean, was the Cannes crowd just thrilled that the American submission wasn't another damn Marvel movie?

Batman TAS: episode #37: The Laughing Fish

The Laughing Fish is the greatest Joker story ever told, full stop. That story was written by Steve Englehart on his run in Detective Comics from #469-476 with Marshall Rogers on art duties; arguably the greatest run on the character in its 95-year history. So much of that eight-issue sequence has seeped into the character's essential fiber that its remarkable that Englehart's name isn't more widely-known. Of course, part of why it's not is simply the way Hollywood and TV function, which is highlighted in this specific case. When you see the credits for this episode, you'll see that it's "Written by Paul Dini." Of course, the story is Englehart's and they even use segments of the dialogue ("Jokerburgers!") from Englehart's story. I pointed that out to him when I ran into him at a comic show about a year after the episode aired. He nodded and said that he had been paid a substantial "service payment" in lieu of a credit. Since he was under a work-for-hire contract when he'd written the story, like the vast majority of comic writers and artists of that time, he probably didn't have much choice. Just the same, it still rankles me every time I think about it.

Thankfully, Dini not only used the dialogue but stuck to the main elements of Englehart's story, as well. In the years since The Batman had returned to being the Darknight Detective, rather than "good ol' Batman", the Joker had still lagged behind the change in tone. He was still the Clown Prince of Crime, with the emphasis on the "clown" part. A bit more serious and threatening, but still more bizarre than he was dangerous. Englehart changed all that. In The Laughing Fish, The Joker is a homicidal maniac whose actions can't be predicted, making him terrifying to anyone and everyone. Dini kept that perspective, using the laughing gas made of Jokervenom that the character would then use forever after, in which victims are killed and die with a rictus grin on their face, reminiscent of the villain himself. 

As BTAS was still aimed primarily at children, Dini couldn't show The Joker's intended victims actually dying (Batman would rescue them and be rescued himself with last-second antivenom doses), but it was still easily the most eerie of situations in the series' history. The character is also at his most menacing, as he regularly threatens the copyright official (G. Carl Francis; played by George Dzundza) with death, which isn't something that regularly happens in the series, other than the usual threats to our hero. The presence of Harley Quinn does spoil the presentation a bit, as she's an intentionally goofy character who doesn't mesh very well with this more menacing version of The Joker.

This is also one of the episodes where Harvey Bullock (most frequently played by Robert Costanzo) functions less like a corrupt buffoon and more like an actual hard-boiled cop who doesn't want to be upstaged by the guy in the bat costume. It's Harvey, of course, who first finds The Joker's hideout and tried to finish the job of apprehending the villain. It's a story that's more grounded in the noirish elements that the series was rooted in than the previous episodes. Since it also features The Batman's greatest opponent, it's hard to look at this as anything but among the very best three or four episodes ever produced, even if the plot itself is relatively straightforward in a "villain of the week" style that has often made superhero comics even more formulaic than they typically are.

Those noirish elements persist right through the conclusion, with the villain disappearing under the water, The Batman doubting that he's actually gone, and the shark devouring the floating card as the dénouement. This is what the series should have been even more often and it's necessary to see it to really understand how great Timm and Dini's (and Englehart's!) efforts were. My one complaint is the title card. It was a departure from the neo-Gothic art style used in most of the rest (until season 4) which were mini-representations of the episode that resembled 1930s movie posters. Instead, this one had a very simple font and no real character at all, which is disappointing.

Dystopia; or briefly The Thing That Describes a Lot of My Mindset About the World

Jeff Donaldson and I were the main figures in a comic studio that Jeff started almost 34 years ago. The studio ran for almost the entire decade of the 90s before economic factors (lack of distribution, lack of money) shut us down. A few months back, Jeff told me that he'd started drawing again with a new program and wondered if I was interested in digging up some of the old material that I'd created for said studio- Fifth Panel Comics -and seeing if we could produce it as a Webcomic. I signed on and here we are:

https://www.dystopia.ink/

Dystopia is a multi-genre setting somewhere in middle America that was basically a way for me to introduce a lot of concepts that I hadn't found a home for, as well as a way for everyone involved in the studio at the time (somewhere in the range of a dozen people, but really a half-dozen "regulars") to collaborate on the same project, if they chose to do so. I explain a lot of this here: https://www.dystopia.ink/2024/04/20/the-origin-story/ which is the almost-first post on the News page of the site. At the moment, when you go to the News page, you'll see the most recent post, but then have to scroll down to see the older ones. I'll figure out how to rework that at some point. Anyway, all of the posts on the News site describe the basic background of the setting, how we wanted to implement it, and what the idea is for the future. The comics, OTOH, are here:

https://www.dystopia.ink/comic/

When you first arrive on the site, you'll automatically see the last page that Jeff has completed and can use the controls to shift to the beginning or to previous (and subsequent) pages and so forth. At the moment, we're beginning with a story based on The Rim, the top level of the city (Into Darkness), but we'll be moving around from there. Jeff is hoping to maintain a schedule of a page a week as we move forward. Meanwhile, I'll be posting more stuff on the blog page (News) and, for those so inclined, we've set up a Discord (linked on the Home page) and will be hoping to hear/see as much feedback as possible; not just on places like Facebook, but the site itself.

If you know anyone who likes comics, Webcomics, SF, horror, cyberpunk, or anything even vaguely related, PLEASE feel free to send them the link to the site. The most gratifying thing for me as a writer has always been for as many people as possible to read it and see if they get something out of it. Quite literally, the more the merrier, yo. Thanks and I hope (at least some of you) enjoy.

Batman TAS: episode #36: Robin's Reckoning, part II

Most of both parts of this story have to do with emotion. As the Darknight Detective, The Batman is frequently presented as divorced from emotion. He's the shadow of the night that implacably pursues criminals in the name of protecting Gotham City. But his image as presented often means that citizens are almost as nervous around him as criminals are. What softens that image to some is the presence of the much more human Robin, who not only cracks jokes but also wears a costume that's an absurd contrast from The Batman's deep blues and grays that keep him hidden in the shadows (except for the blazing target in the middle of his chest...) But Robin wears a costume emblematic of his circus background. The only problem is that, as presented in these two episodes, it brings him awfully close to matching the image of a clown.

The episode begins with Bruce and young Dick Grayson engaging in fencing practice. In the course of said practice, it demonstrates how enthusiastic, reckless, and emotional Dick is at his young age, which is understandable. The problem is that college-aged Dick is also just as reckless and emotional, which creates a contrast to The Batman not just in presentation, but in execution. The Batman is controlled, precise, and careful to protect both the citizens of Gotham and any activity that might threaten his identity and, thus, those around him. Robin, meanwhile, goes in guns blazing to every encounter. In this episode, it's presented as a consequence of pursuing Tony Zucco, the man who killed his parents. But it's also present in the previous episode before we even knew we'd be delving into Dick's past. It's also displayed by the younger Dick when he gets onto Zucco's trail, as well. Robin was created by Kane as a character for kids "to relate to" and imagine themselves being, working alongside The Batman. The problem is that most kids already imagine themselves being The Batman, rather than his goofy sidekick. But even if they were imagining themselves as Robin, instead of the Caped Crusader, they're now presented with an image of themselves being the most antithetical partner that The Batman could ever have. It's a really strange approach to both concept and story.

This is furthered by some of the story details and moments. At one point, we see crooks on the streets running and hiding because the Batwing is hovering over the streets. The Darknight Detective's whole approach is to be lurking around the rooftops, unseen, until he suddenly appears and terrifies them; such that they'll never know in the future if he's around the corner and, consequently, might decide to not engage in their nefarious activities. The idea that they'll have the opportunity to run and hide because they can hear the VTOL jets of the Batwing from blocks away doesn't suit the character's MO at all. This is alongside other mildly clumsy moments in the script, such as Paulie's Pool Hall, which seems like an obvious reference to a recent gangster movie of inordinate fame. Then there's Dick running into the stereotypical hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold when he's first searching for Zucco. Some of this seems like padding for a story that honestly might have been able to be told in a single episode, rather than two, and the reason for that padding is, of course, because it's Robin's origin story.

That emotional angle comes to a fairly explosive climax, as The Batman locates Tony Zucco's hideout when the latter is panicking about being pursued by him ("He's a dark angel a'death, man!") and Robin ends up reaching a moment where he could easily let Zucco fall to his death, only to be stopped by his mentor. That engenders an explosion from Robin where the most predictable line emerges: "You can't possibly know how I feel-!" when, of course, Bruce absolutely knows how he feels and Dick realizes it a moment later. This is accompanied by Bruce explaining that he tried to keep his ward out of this fight for fear that the man who took Dick's parents' lives might also take the life of what is effectively the only child that Bruce will ever have. The emotional weight attached to both of them in the course of this story does sell it better than the overall presentation, but it doubtlessly works better for actual fans of the Robin character. Next up is the greatest Joker story ever told: The Laughing Fish.

Batman TAS: episode #35: Robin's Reckoning, part I

My views on Robin as a character have been cited here before, so I won't go into great detail on them again. Needless to say, I am not a fan. Even if you could argue that he doesn't detract from the overall atmosphere of the stories (and I don't think you can), you'd be even more hard-pressed to argue that he brings anything positive, either. In Robin's Reckoning, part I, as the producers were giving credit to their audience by not dwelling on The Batman's origin story once again, it's fair to say that Robin's origin story is a little more obscure, especially with their having been three versions of the character by the time this aired, so you can understand why an episode (or two) would be committed to telling the story of the (sigh) Boy Wonder. They decided to proceed with the original, Bob Kane story, which was him being the scion of the Flying Graysons, a circus act that goes awry after contact with the local mob. It's the corniest of Robin origins, but may be the most appropriate. Where else but the circus would a kid his age develop the skills needed to swing around Gotham's rooftops with its hero? Besides, I always had a soft spot in my weird fiction attachment for strange carnies and the setting of the traveling circus, rolling from one backwater town to the next with the bizarre in its wake. That is the kind of aura that permeates The Batman's rogues' gallery, anyway, even if it doesn't describe the clean and family-friendly circus that is the locus of the Graysons' act.

But this episode begins with the grown, almost-adult Robin and his fairly extreme differences of opinion with his mentor on technique and responsibility. Unfortunately, it also emphasizes the youthful exuberance that doesn't seem to extend to recklessness but does make him seem goofy which is, of course, not The Batman at all. There's a sharp contrast there with an example of our hero's ruthless edge, as they let a gangster ("A contract saboteur, Robin.") hang from a girder 30 stories up, despite his complaints ("The cops wouldn't leave me!" "We're not the police...") When The Batman attempts to protect his sidekick from his own past, the latter reacts with justifiable outrage ("Stone cold, self-righteous-!") When we get into the actual origin story, I questioned at first why the writer and director felt it appropriate to show Robin's continual rage at being left behind, while it wasn't so to show the young Dick Grayson coming to grief over his parents' death, especially in his room at Wayne Manor when he pulls their picture from his suitcase. Was the idea that he was already hardening to be like his eventual mentor? Or perhaps that young boys watching the show would think that he was weak and not appreciate him the way writers of the comics (including Kane) and the show had always intended? ("Kids can relate to him!" No. No, they really can't.) Anger is OK to display but grief isn't? This is already a problem with our society. But, then, later they relent and do show tears on his face for about one second when Bruce comes to reassure him, so maybe my concern was misplaced.

They also return to that aura of real menace around The Batman, as he confronts a gangster with that shadowy silhouette and the cracking of his knuckles, confirming what's to follow if he doesn't get his way. He's still propelled by his anger in this situation, many years before, just as the older Robin is in the "present day" of the episode. His confrontation with local crimelord, Stromwell, is really well-paced and brings us back to that heavy noirish atmosphere. (That scene also displays the older costume with the chest-wide black bat, rather than the convenient target of the more modern suit.) There's also an excellent action sequence of dodging multiple bullets from a tommy gun, but seeing the actual effect of said bullets for once, as his cape shows the holes from the near misses as he dives over a barrier. It's those little moments of realism that continue to pay credit to the storytellers involved with the series. And all of this seems to be driven by that darker side of the characters in play. All of it is driven by rage, both The Batman's actions and Robin's reactions in the present day. Indeed, you could speculate that even the brief moment of grief on Dick's behalf is still driven by the anger at the injustice of it all. There's nothing wrong with that and certainly explains why the whole story was split into two episodes, as the implicit understanding is that anger can only drive you so far, whether it's seeking vengeance or getting irritated at being sidelined.

Despite my typical disdain for the character, the writing in this episode is quite solid and grounds our characters in those human emotions that are so essential to effective storytelling. The only complaint at the moment would be that both Robin and young Dick Grayson have the least solid roles in the story that is ostensibly about him/them. Part 2 is next, obvsly.

Batman TAS: episode #34: See No Evil

The original premise of the series was to take the darker form of Batman and still be able to present it as a cartoon that was deemed suitable for children. It was like the old saw about Warner Bros. cartoons. The slapstick was entertaining for the kids, but the underlying themes were catnip for intelligent adults, who could recognize the subversive nature of them. (One wonders how modern Republicans would react to the regular presence of Bugs Bunny in drag...) For the most part, Timm and Co. succeeded in presenting that dual nature in the majority of episodes of the series. But sometimes they came up a bit short and See No Evil is one of those failings. The plot is simple (crook uses invisibility suit to try to stay in touch with his daughter) but still has enough room for emotional depth. There are great atmospherics in the opening scenes outside of the house, with the blowing trash and leaves. It's very much a noir setting. But the episode quickly descends into enough camp to summon memories of the 1960s Batman, which is never a positive development, IMO.

We see the security guard needing to use the facilities and getting stalled by both the villain and Bruce Wayne changing into his alter ego. We see people at a watch/jewelry exhibition, reacting in almost feigned horror as they see their valuables disappear right in front of them. The villain exits the main exhibition hall right into a room with wet cement on the floor. It's all very obvious and clearly targeted at the low end of the appropriate age limit. In a seeming reference to DC comics of yore, the villain is named Lloyd Ventrix, which sounds an awful lot like Floyd Ventris, who was known as Mirror Man, a cheap super-scientist character from the 1950s; the era which was used as the basis for the 1960s TV series, so it all seems to be coming together here. There are many people who love that series and the more rock'em, sock'em nature of DC's heroes in that time period. I am not one of them and don't think it serves the character's overall interest.

All of that negative stuff said, due credit to writer, Martin Pasko, on this one for, at the very least, inserting enough emotional weight (the father clearly desperate to keep in touch with his daughter, but also clearly the progenitor of an abusive/predatory relationship with his ex-wife) to make these characters seem like real people. That's almost always a prerequisite for me and it also relegates The Batman to being the only one who doesn't seem to act like a human. Once again, we see him almost becoming the antagonist in his own series. But that also usually involves having a villain who has some edge of interest in his motivations. This one, while understandable, lacks the level of derangement that would keep him interesting, even as our hero attempts to stop him, not only to protect his former family, but also to prevent the villain from damaging himself with the very suit that he's using. There's a solid action sequence with The Batman hanging from the roof of a somehow-invisible car (which engenders the obvious joke from two bystanders that the car speeds past: "I didn't know he could fly...?") but too much of the story is spent in wide-eyed amazement at the prospect of someone being invisible, which has really been old hat in the entertainment world since Claude Rains. This is definitely among the lesser efforts of the series as a whole.