Moved

I have moved my blog to Tumblr because things are just way more shnazzy over there.
Apols. to my two followers. Follow me there!

The interestant blog.

http://interestant.tumblr.com

We so serious...

I spent yesterday afternoon going through my comic book collection, sorting through my 'mint' favourite issues (nothing special, most notable among them are Nightwing #1 and Robin #1... yeah, I'm a baller), old crap like random 1990s issues of the Outsiders, Green Lantern, Hawkworld, Impulse and Suicide Squad, and issues from my favourite series (notably Batman and Birds of Prey). What stood out instantly were the vast differences in story-telling, art quality, and artist-consumer interaction between comics of today and of yesteryear. Most early 1990s books by DC, for example, featured a letters page at the back. While seemingly superfluous, I miss it. Yes, today you do have writers and artists answering questions on Twitter, but with the character limit their responses are usually restrained to yes and no or 'watch this space'-style answers. There are of course a lot more comic-related website getting interviews from them, meaning there is slightly more interaction, but it's indirect and hardly ever critical. What I miss about the letters pages is that it offered creators a chance to explain themselves and their decisions to readers, as well as (hopefully) take reader concerns into account. What has replaced the letters page today (in DC, at least) is a silly DC Nation page, in which the editorial staff give us the "lowdown" on what's happening next (i.e. tell us what event book to buy). I realize a letter is probably not going to change editorial's mind on what to do with a character, but there is at least the illusion of accountability for readers to console themselves with. Now, we're all just faceless morons they get to make fun of (see Adventure Comics).

Reduce, Reeboot, Recycle

A couple of months ago, Marvel and Sony announced that they'd be rebooting the Spider-Man film franchise, after 'creative differences' resulted in director Sam Raimi and star Tobey Maguire dropping out of Spider-Man 4. This is just the latest reboot coming from Marvel, and highlights a very bizarre trend that I hope doesn't catch on. Reboots are becoming more and more frequent from Marvel. While DC is happy to let a failed series fall out of public consciousness before going for a second attempt, Marvel appears to think 3-year gaps are sufficient. They're wrong.

In 2008, Marvel rebooted its Hulk film franchise after Ang Lee's adaptation failed to catch on with fans (it was a tad over dramatic), and it looks like it might have to again after the recent The Incredible Hulk, which was more a retcon than a reboot (continues on from the first film, with origin details altered here and there) pulled in similar numbers. That film was extremely well received and I think Marvel is making a huge mistake not putting more faith in the series. Just look at the X-Men; the first film did reasonably well, but it was X2 that really made the series a hot property, and if Fox hadn't played tough with Bryan Singer who knows how huge it could have become. In 2008, it also rebooted its Punisher film franchise - for the second time - after its 2004 effort The Punisher starring Tom Jane failed to deliver the big bucks (note: it was shit). The Punisher: War Zone was also a commercial flop. Will it be fourth-time lucky for Marvel? Possibly. It's also announced reboots for its Daredevil films (both of which, 2003's Daredevil and 2005's Elektra, I thought were highly underrated) and Fantastic Four films (both of which really were quite awful. Filmmakers please note: giving a Latina a blonde wig does not make her look white).

While I was willing to bare with all these retoolings - despite how cash-grabby and disrespectful they are to people that paid to see the 'forgotten' films - the Spider-Man reboot really hits a nerve with me. Here you have what is undoubtedly Marvel's biggest film franchise being thrown in the trash because Sony and Marvel executives aren't willing to give Raimi - whose first two Spider films raked in the cash as well as the critical praise - more creative freedom. Their influence already destroyed the third film by shoving Venom (a character Raimi did not want in the film) down our collective throats, and here they are at it again.

And it's not just Raimi's departure that irks me, as I'm sure another director could take over the reigns with ease, but the entire rebooting of a continuity people have invested literally billions in. Even in the comic book medium, new writers pick up the story from where the predecessor left off. Here, however, characters and stories that people care about are being thrown in the dumper. And for what? Because "nobody" wants to see Spidey married? Bull. Just look at the reaction the Brand New Day storyline had to get a grasp on how Spidey fans feel about stories being heavily retconned. For an entire generation of people, Spider-Man is Tobey Maguire, and his great love is Mary-Jane Watson. Now we're getting some generic-looking teenager (Logan Ler-somthing, from the Percy Jackson movie [me neither]), and Mary-Jane replaced by Gwen Stacey, a character so bland she's not only completely forgettable in Spider-Man 3, but only really remembered for having died in the comics. Then of course comes the fact that the film will chronicle Peter Parker's high school years. So much for being groundbreaking. I admit that Spider-Man in high school is something that would be very cool to see (it was glossed over quite quickly in the first film), but it just feels wrong right now. While this would be alright, say, another ten years down the line, there is something off about a major film franchise being remade just four years after the last film hit cinemas.

Stranded on a rock after college

Month 1:
"Oh my God I'm so excited to be back let's go there and there and there and there...."

Month 2:
"Well I'm kinda bored of this shit but I'm leaving soon so let's be nostalgic and go there and there and there and there and there....again"

Month 3:
"Oh, I'm not leaving am I? Oh well let's try to recreate summer and go there and there and there... urgh"

Month 4:
"I'm kind of bored of this shit. Let's try something new. Oh, it's exactly the same."

Months 5, 6, 7, 8:
[Data Unavailable, not entirely sure what happened during those months. Oh, nothing did.]

Frakkin' space nerds.

Last month, the reimagined, 2004 version of cult sci-fi hit Battlestar Galactica began airing in Cyprus. Ever the one to chase after the geek zeitgeist - in an effort to become one of them (at a distance) - I quickly made sure the show became something of a regular fixture in my post-work-and-taking-the-rats-out-for-a-crap-wait-where's-my-beer? routine. I was speculative at first. With its somewhat dodgy (and repeated) special effects as well as the budget-induced, 'lived-in' feel, the show immediately brought to mind that last, doomed series of Star Trek - Enterprise. That show featured a collection of future space heroes that, in terms of characterization, could have easily been beamed from a rural Georgia motorway, what with all their southern charm and unspoken nationalist camaraderie. Oh, and there was one hot alien chick whose clothes seemed to get tighter as the show went on. With its humans-on-the-run premise, would Battlestar repeat that show's formula, and thus its failings? Would I spend a year following it before realizing that I've seen this all before? Would I eventually punch the TV screen five episodes in after the seventh hundred usage of the bizarrely infuriating semi-curse word, "Frakkin'"? Turns out the answer to those questions is a big, fat no.

Diversity Is The Word
So often, sci-fi envisions a future where human culture has become a solely American entity. Apart from a few fancy words and the occasional glimpse of a hot or old white priestess wearing a white veil and saying something flowery and inane, we are basically exposed to a United States with floating cars. Characters' sensibilities, inner conflicts and moral diatribes remain, apart from cosmetic placeholders, very much the same. At first glimpse, Battlestar is not far off. Executive power rests with a President and Vice-President. Military personnel smoke cigars and drink green whiskey. Codes of dress as shockingly current and typically western. Oh, and everyone apart from a mad scientist speaks with an American accent (the mad scientist's English). But a few episodes in, the cracks begin to show, and we start to realize that the culture we are witnessing is not only that of a single world (Caprica, the capital of the twelve colonial worlds), but that its flaws, and thus those of modern western society, are being placed under great scrutiny by the show's creators.

This 'Caprican' culture is xenophobic and motivated by greed, making assumptions about the beliefs of people from different worlds, and cementing the structure of humanity's last surviving society on its own ideals. As an Arab, I could not miss a moment where an officer openly assumed that Dualla - a woman from the 'backward' Sagittaron - felt sympathies for a terrorist from her homeworld, an accusation she immediately refutes. A number of main characters, meanwhile, are non-white and (shock! horror!) involved in romantic relationships with white characters. 'Sharon' is Asian, Dualla is black, Gaeta is ambiguous brown, and the Adamas are apparently semetic (Adama is Hebrew for earth, while their first names are apparently Capricanized versions of Arabic names), not that you would be able to tell from Apollo's chalk-white skin.

Then, of course, comes the presentation of women. With high-ranking officials addressed as 'sir', and with both the political and military divisions headed by women, it seems that the twelve colonies have moved on from sexual politics. However, I should note a tendency for their authority to be undermined, particularly President Laura Roslin, often referred to as a "school teacher" due to her previous post as the Minister of Education. And of course there is the 'sir' thing, which implies that in order to get ahead women have had to emulate masculinity rather than forge a distinctly female depiction of authority. I do hope this is address eventually.

A Plot That Actually Goes Somewhere
While most humans-lost-in-space shows follow an episodic structure - most likely in order to remain accessible and capture some sense of adventure - Battlestar actually feels like it's building up to something, which I appreciate greatly. One season in, and there are already enough hanging plot threads to keep you begging for more. Cylon agents are constantly being revealed, there's a threeway human-cylon relationship hanging in the balance. Then, of course, comes the theological aspect, which despite sounding ridiculous (humans apparently are polytheistic, observing a religion that combines star signs with the Greek Gods), actually ends up captivating. Following a dying leader, and carrying video game-style acquisitions like the Arrow Of Apollo, the human race is in search of a legendary place called Earth. Then, of course, come the bizarrely self-righteous, monotheistic views of the murderous Cylons, who force the mad English doctor to submit himself to monotheism, and then prophesize the birth of the first human-cylon baby. If that isn't captivating and challenging viewing, I don't know what is.