Welcome To My Nightmare

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I’m a big fan of movies. I own more than I should, but hey, Blockbuster keeps selling them 4 for $20 so I keep buying them. I like action and mystery the best. I’m picky about comedy. I really enjoyed comedies like Ghostbusters, Grosse Point Blank and the like, but I can’t stand retarded comedies like the Loaded Gun movies. If the spoof isn’t by Mel Brooks, what’s the point? By the way, where the hell is the Men In Tights DVD? Anyway, I’m writing this after having just viewed Man On Fire, the Tony Scott film starring Denzel Washington, Dakota Fanning, and Christopher Walken. And it got me thinking a little about comics.

Denzel is a proven commodity. He’s got what, two Oscars and several Extraneous Awards (that means all the other inane awards that aren’t from the Academy)? He’s gold. Everything he’s in draws butts to the seats and makes good money. Which in part might be why I don’t always like him. I’m sure Denzel’s a standup gent, but there’s something about people who never fail, or at least succeed too often. I think it might be one of the most American of personality traits, to drag down those that soar to high and trample them under the tedious march of the common man. There was this singer in the 70s and 80s, perhaps you’ve heard of him — Michael Jackson. He was the biggest. He was the Elvis of my time. And now he’s hiding somewhere in the Middle East of all places, having been in court for everything from back pay due to his staff at Neverland Ranch to child molestation charges. And then there’s the fact that the dude just got plain weird. His nose looks like it’s held on with a Post-It. He wears veils in public. He holds his children over balconies. Americans still smile inwardly when their local retro-pop station plays Billie Jean, but for the most part Mike is dead. There’s no way he’ll ever recover his pop status. There’s no way he’ll all-of-a-sudden be a normal black guy again.

Denzel’s in no danger of this, certainly. And there have been several films that I’ve enjoyed him in greatly. Another Tony Scott film, “Crimson Tide”, is one of my favorites. As is “Glory”, and “Inside Man”, the least Spike Lee-ish of Spike Lee joints. But I get tired of the Oscar hype. I’ve seen “Training Day”, and there’s no way in Hell that was a Best Actor performance. “Glory”, yes, absolutely, but “Crimson Tide” and “Man on Fire” were better Denzel performances than Training Day. And in my own weird way, Denzel is kinda how I view Superman. See? It all comes back around eventually.

Superman, you see, is infallible. He’s the Denzel of the DCU. Superman has been steady, reliable, and occasionally the best. But unfortunately, he’s become stale and everyone knows it. Batman’s line about Superman not having inspired anyone since he was dead is right on the money. Superman’s movie has to be viewed as a failure, compared to the recent Batman film, or even the X-Men installment Bryan Singer left to shoot Superman. Everyone wants to like Superman, and I think many people feel they’re supposed to like Superman, but deep down they know Superman needs to be torn down a bit.


This is what comics should be. You should be wanting more cowbell, baby.


Not like Jacko’s weird ass, but things need to happen to make Superman interesting. Every villain can’t have Kryptonite, and the ones that do need to be able to get over on Superman with their chunk of green rock. Kryptonite is like bullets in a Denzel movie. There’s lots of them, and they almost always miss. Superman needs to have a moment like Denzel in Man on Fire. He needs to fail completely in some way. Because the wet-behind-the-ears farmboy routine who sees everything in black and white doesn’t resonate with comic readers or movie goers anymore. Is it just modern apathy? Is it part of the adjustment to living in the post-September 11 world? I don’t know. But I think people react better to Batman because he is a flawed man. Spider-man is the everyman. People see themselves in these characters, but they don’t see themselves in the Man of Steel.

I can’t express how much I appreciate Christopher Walken. The man is great in everything. Even the second Tim Burton Batman, which I don’t care for at all. Walken is, probably, presumably, a normal, decent fellow. But his every performance has a twinge of strangeness to it. And that strangeness is his hook. You could be watching anything, a police procedural, a surreal sci-fi, a fantasy epic, or a character portrait and once Walken appears you cannot turn away. You are drawn into his world, strange as it is, and you find yourself wanting more cowbell, and you don’t even know why. This is what comics should be. You should be wanting more cowbell, baby. Now, am I saying there’s nothing strange or weird on the racks? Of course not. There’s just not a lot of good strangeness. Things shouldn’t be strange for sake of strangeness. This is my problem with much of Grant Morrison’s work, particularly his X-Men run.

I hear it all the time, “Oh, it’s so original! It kicks Claremont’s ass!” Let us not forget, if not for Claremont, X-Men would have been cancelled long ago. But that aside, Morrison doesn’t seem to have a point to his oddness. Neil Gaiman does some odd stuff too, but it’s not meant to assail your senses so much as to open your mind to new ways of handling sensory input. I think of it this way: Gaiman’s strangeness is a bit of Walken, Morrison’s is more like Crispin Glover — Weird as Hell, but neither endearing nor necessary. Walken as a comic would be refreshing. We need a challenge. We need a new Watchmen or Dark Knight Returns. Not a sequel, shit no, but an honest to the God of your choice original work that really transcends things and gives us a taste of Walkenesque whimsical strangeness. And more cowbell.

I’ve never been a fan of child actors. Most of them grow up to be prisoners or die young. And they all make more than I’ll ever see in my life. But from what I’ve seen, Dakota Fanning is worth every penny. She seems like a veteran of Jodie Foster talent wrapped in the form of a nine year old. There are a lot of Ben Afflecks out there. Uninteresting and uninterested actors who deliver less than my $8 worth of entertainment. And there are just as many comics that are overpriced in relation to the entertainment value they provide. It seems lately that these comics seem to either be top sellers or end up in my bag every week despite my efforts to weed them out. But I occasionally find a Dakota Fanning in my bag. A young, new comic or a first time creator that hits it out of the park on the first try.

These are the ones that keep me coming back. These are the ones that give me hope. I’m negative enough to expect that Dakota will end up in rehab at some point, and positive enough to hope I’m wrong. And I keep buying comics with the hope that in amongst the Afflecks I’ll find a Fanning or a Walken. That amongst the tired Superman tales there will be a Fables. For all the tedium of Spider-man telling the same stories for almost 20 years there will be the occasional “Kraven’s Last Hunt” or “Flowers For Rhino”.

But this week, I’ll be happy if my Marvel titles don’t include a homage to Attack of the Clones. Clones. After the Scarlet Spider fiasco you’d think Bendis and Millar would know better. More to the point you’d think their editors would know better. Because if there’s anything Marvel needs right now, it’s less clones and more cowbell.

Welcome to my nightmare.