Book Review: Supergods - Our World In The Age Of The Superhero by Grant Morrison

Over the 30+ years I've been reading comics, Grant Morrison has written some of my all-time favourites. Animal Man, Doom Patrol, The Invisibles, Arkham Asylum, All Star Superman... books I'd hold up among the best the medium has to offer. He's also written a fair few books I just didn't get, a smattering that disappeared (albeit with sporadic enjoyment) up their own backsides, and some that left me completely cold. Nothing I absolutely hated though, and I've long found the "Grant Morrison" persona to be among the most fascinating and insane of comic book creator caricatures. Where "Stan Lee" is your favourite uncle as a carnival barker and "Alan Moore" is the grumpy (and slightly pervy) old wizard you don't want to get on the wrong side of, "Grant Morrison" is the rock star cum Cuckoo's Nest escapee who's done a few too many mind-altering substances to the point where he actually believes he might be a superhero. A superhero with the power of writing. Isn't that the power we all dreamed of?

Supergods is, ostensibly, Morrison's history of the superhero comic. Unlike many such books, it's highly subjective... and because Morrison's comic book tastes often differ wildly from my own, I often found myself taking his facts-as-opinions with a pinch of salt, or else flat-out disagreeing. There's a strong DC-bias to his writing, partly because these were largely the comics he grew up on, partly because he's had some negative experiences with Marvel management over the years, and partly because DC are currently paying his bills. Plus, he's got more time for the cosmic madness Jack Kirby brought to comics in the 60s than the everyman quality that made me a lifelong True Believer of Stan Lee...

"And yet there was something I didn't like about the Marvel superheroes. Those characters seemed constantly angry and weird, and I found stories of conflict between heroes exhausting. Spider-Man's stressy life was a bit too grown-up, it seemed."

Yet despite our many differences, we both love comics and believe wholeheartedly in the transformative potential of the medium. Once I accepted Morrison's subjective opinions, there was much to enjoy in this larger than life tome. There's a wonderful mix of creative, character and industry back-story alongside personal anecdote, and it's good that Morrison doesn't tread the same old ground as previous historians. He's attempting to build a sociological history of the medium which is sometimes incisive and occasionally insane, but never less than entertaining. Those unfamiliar with the writer's unique world view might not be prepared for his psychedelic 90s adventures in which he creates a comic as a magic spell with the express intention of living a superhero lifestyle... only to go off the deep end when his face is attacked by flesh-eating bacteria and he finds himself face-to-face with 4th dimensional aliens who reveal to him the ancient secrets of our universe. At this point the narrative becomes more "fictional" autobiography than historical tract but as the rest of the comics industry went through its artistic nadir in the 90s, it's a welcome distraction. I still remember an interview with Morrison at the time, when it was suggested that perhaps his other-dimensional experiences might be nothing more than the result of all the mind-altering substances he was taking at that time. "I can see why you might think that," went his reply (paraphrased from memory), "but you'd be seriously mistaken."

There's much to relish here: from the writer's iconoclastic needling of Alan Moore to barbed comments about his estranged pal, Mark Millar. And despite all the Comic Book Books I've read before, I still learnt a few new things (Namor is Roman backwards!) That Supergods becomes less about the medium and more about the messenger is perhaps inevitable. In his own way, Grant Morrison is as unbelievably larger-than-life as Superman, Batman, The X-Men or any of the iconic characters he's tackled over the years. As long as nobody takes his opinionated ramblings as gospel, it's all good... but hopefully, the 4th Dimensional aliens should make sure of this.

Movie Review: Immortals

I do so hate it when someone whose opinion I value and respect gets to review a movie on their blog before I do. Especially if they like it and I think it sucks wet ass through a straw. Who am I to disagree with Steve? His opinion is, I'm sure you'll agree, far more worthy than mine. He has the wisdom of age behind him, for one thing. Look, if you think Immortals is your kind of movie, stop reading this review now and go read Steve's. But if you want to hear someone have a good old moan...

I think I may have a problem with director Tarsem Singh. I didn't notice his name in the credits, I hadn't read it in any reviews, yet I soon recognised his style from the last time I was forced to sit through one of his films: The Cell starring Jennifer Lopez and Vince Vaughan (from way back in 2000). Like that film, Immortals is visually stunning. Both will stick in my mind as being two of the most picturesque movies I've ever seen. Tarsem certainly puts the money up there on the screen and has a painter's eyes for detail. Every shot is like Michelangelo meets Salvador Dali. It's almost more than the human eye can contain. And this one was in 3D too... you know what a colossal waste of space I consider 3D to be, an affront to right-thinking cinema audience everywhere... and yet good old Tarsem made it work. The 3D actually looked good. No, screw that, the 3D took my breath away.

It's a shame then that, as with The Cell, all Tarsem's attention goes on the visuals. Certainly none of it goes on securing a decent script to work from. You can't blame the plot - that's as old as the hills, but the script... man, this script was bad. Can we say "style over substance"? Can we tattoo it on Tasem's forehead so he'll see it every morning when he washes his face? Can we talk about the actors now?

The star of the movie is Henry Cavill, about who I knew very little beforehand except that he's been cast as the new Superman. You know what? I can see that. He did a pretty good job of pitching his Theseus somewhere between the big blue boyscout and his speccy, stuttering alter ego. Doesn't mean I gave a monkeys what happened to him, or the impossibly beautiful Freida Pinto who plays his oracle. Beyond them, John Hurt plays John Hurt (his default position these days) and Mickey Rourke plays the old Avengers baddie Orka The Killer Whale. Seriously. Compare the photo above with the cover below and you'll see what I mean.

Beyond that, I have little else to add. Immortals gives lie to the old maxim that you can't polish a turd. It seems, after all, you can. You can paint it up to be the most spectacular, sparkly, devastatingly beautiful turds anyone has ever seen - in 3D too! At the end of the day though, it's still a bum radish.

On the other hand...

Farewell, Smallville

And so I say goodbye to a TV show I've been watching for one whole quarter of my life... though I really don't know why. Unlike the final episodes of Cheers, NYPD Blue and The X-Files which left me in buckets of tears at the loss of an old friend, the overriding sensation at the departure of Smallville was a huge sigh of relief. I can't tell you why I've stuck with this show as long as I have, particularly as what little prime it had was past about five seasons ago. You might think it's because I'm a comics nerd, but I haven't read the DC Universe in years and I've always found Superman the least interesting superhero anywhere. Far too powerful, far too pious, far too meh.

It certainly wasn't the writing that kept me watching either. With a few brilliant exceptions (mostly in the earlier seasons, mostly revolving around the long departed Lex Luthor) pedestrian plotting and preachy, clichéd scripting have been the name of the game for far too long. They could have made it much more interesting had they injected a little edge and - dare I say it - humour, but I guess they didn't think the target audience had much of a funnybone. Not that I'm entirely sure who the target audience was. Smallville began as a teen show but (like the cast) those original viewers would now be in their mid-20s... which I guess goes some way to explain how it evolved into a superhero Gossip Girl.

Strangely enough, I think it might actually be the cast who kept me. Although the show's best actor (Michael Rosenbaum, our AWOL Lex) departed three seasons ago (although he was dragged back kicking and screaming for the preposterous and nonsensical finale) and the show's best character (Allison Mack's divine Chloe Sullivan) has been woefully wasted in recent years... at least they had the good sense to jettison the horrible, ghastly, Queen of Whinge that was Kristin Kreuk (Lana Lang). Late replacements Justin Hartley (Green Arrow, a gormless Bruce Wayne substitute) and Cassidy Freeman (the ludicrously monickered Lu-'Tess'-a Luthor) breathed faint gasps of life into the show's sagging lungs while the final season wisely resurrected the better actors from the longterm supporting cast: Lionel Luthor (a demented John Glover) and Jonathan Kent (Bo Duke).

Most of all though, the two people who kept me watching longer than I ever stuck with Teri Hatcher and Dean Cain... were Lois and Clark. Erica Durance gave Margot Kidder a run for her money as the funniest, spunkiest, karate kicking-est Lois Lane ever... although I never saw Margot Kidder jump out of a cake wearing a bunny girl outfit*. And while Christopher Reeve (who had a recurring cameo on the show before his tragic death in 2004) will always be the one and only screen Superman for me, Tom Welling might well be my Clark Kent. Considering how much mawkish, pretentious, sentimental twaddle he was forced to spew week in and week out, it's a wonder I'm not up in a book depository loading a shotgun right now... and yet, incredibly, Welling pulled it off. He convinced me he was a nice guy. Which you might think is a basic necessity for playing Superman... but you'd be amazed how difficult it can be. I don't suffer me no fools, gladly or otherwise. Plus, the scenes with the ghost of his late father in the final season contained genuine emotion. I was filling up despite myself.

So farewell, Tom and Erica, Allison and Justin, John, Michael and Cassidy, Terence (Stamp!), Annette and Bo Duke. I still don't know why I watched your show as long as I did, but I reckon it must be down to you guys. I hope you all find gainful employment in the future and that your writers have been sent off to read Robert McKee and rue the day they ever set fingers to typewriter. Farewell, Smallville. That's 217 hours of my life (minus fast-forwarded commercial breaks) I'm not getting back...





*Plus, Michael Ironside played her dad. Extra points for that, obviously. Though points are deducted for Teri Hatcher as the late Mrs. Lane.

Green Lantern

I don't like Green Lantern.

Never have.

Yeah, I read the comic when I was a kid. I read all sorts of tat when I was a kid. But apart from the days when Dave Gibbons was drawing him, and a soft spot for dumb redneck Green Lantern Guy Gardener in Justice League International, I never really got into the character. The problem with Green Lantern will always be too much power. He can do anything. He can do everything. The only limits are his imagination. Plus, like a lot of DC superheroes, the costume is more important than the man. We don't care about Hal Jordan because he doesn't have a life beyond saving the world. I can't relate to that in the way I relate to Peter Parker or Matt Murdoch or Ben Grimm. Because the secret identity is the mask, everything beneath the costume is a cipher.

Then again, I don't like Superman either, for many of the same reasons. Yet I still enjoyed 3 of the Superman movies (the first two Christopher Reeves more than the Brandon Routh) and I've managed to stick with Smallville through waaay too many dead horse flogging seasons. So it's not impossible to make a fun movie or TV show out of a comics character I have little interest in. You just have to put in a little effort. Sadly, director Martin Campbell, his five screenwriters, and most of the cast just don't bother. Green Lantern is one of the worst films I've ever seen. It's not just bad, it's Forrest Gump bad. And it don't get no worse than that, buddy.

Like Thor, Green Lantern spends half its time on Earth, and the other half in the stars. The difference is that when Thor had its head in the clouds, we were being treated to cod Shakespearian camp - a meaty chunk of soap that made the sci fi much easier to swallow. When Green Lantern is in space, we just get video game visuals and video game plotting. Then when Thor was on the ground, we got a fish out of water comedy, a gutsy love interest and impressive action sequences. When Green Lantern comes down to earth, we get Blake Lively and a helicopter on a willpower-created rollercoaster. And for all the nonsense backstory of Thor, at least it was a nonsense backstory based on epic Norse mythology. With Green Lantern, we get this...

Billions of years ago, a group of immortals harnessed the most powerful force in existence: the emerald energy of willpower. These immortals, the guardians of the universe, built a world from where they could watch over all of existence: the planet Oa. A ring powered by the energy of will was sent to every sector of the universe to select or recruit. In order to be chosen by the ring, one had to be without fear. Together these recruits formed the intergalactic peacekeepers known as the Green Lantern Corps...

I swear to god, if I'd submitted that for a first year high school English assignment to write my own science fiction story, I'd have failed. "The emerald energy of willpower"? Do what now? "In order to be chosen by the ring, one had to be without fear." Because fear and willpower are connected how? What's that legendary line Harrison Ford allegedly gave George Lucas? "You can type this shit, but you sure as hell can't say it." Guys, do you not think there are some concepts from 60s comic mythology that should be left in the gutter of the 20th century? Use the characters if you must, try and sell them to the modern age... but at least have a little respect for the intelligence of your audience. And for god's sake, don't open your film with five minutes of such asinine exposition... say what you want about George Lucas, but "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away" suddenly sounds like high art.

It's sad, because the shrill and unpleasant poutiness of Blake Lively aside, there are some decent actors trying their hardest to make the most of Green Lantern. Peter Sarsgaard. Mark Strong. Tim Robbins. Hell, even Ryan Reynolds. Say what you like about him, but Reynolds has movie star charisma up the wazoo. He's got that Cary Grant / Harrison Ford grin down pat, and sometimes that's all you need to play the hero. He just doesn't get chance here. None of them do.

Green Lantern is a wasted opportunity. A waste of money. And most of all, a waste of time. I can't remember the last time I was so bored by a film. Or by any other activity save cleaning the toilet. This movie sapped my will to live. I couldn't even leave the theatre, so bad was the bright green halo of torpor. Maybe it wasn't willpower those immortal Oan guardians harnessed after all... maybe it was tedium. The green power of tedium. Maybe it really is the most powerful force in all the universe...

Thoughtballoons - Superman

This week's Thoughtballoons character requires no introduction... so I shan't give him one...

...other than to say I'm not a huge Superman fan. There are a number of reasons for this, but the two biggest reasons form the basis of my own one-page script this week. It's a little bit of a cop out... but it's all I could come up with. As the title says, Writers' Block Is My Kryptonite. For some slightly more super Superman stories, check out the scripts by the other guys too.