Somnopolis

One of the nicest aspects of Chuck is the theme of having to grow up. The star and his civilian buddies are mostly twenty-something (and in Jeff’s case middle-aged) retail clerks trapped in a state of arrested development. Tony Hale, Buster from the much lamented show Arrested Development, even plays scheming Assistant Manager Emmet in the second season.

Adulthood is something to be feared and avoided at all costs. After all the pettiness of Emmet seems the standard method of getting ahead in life. Chuck was framed with the crime of cheating and kicked out of Stanford. He retreats into gaming and nerd trivia as a way of coping with how unfair the real world is. It was the last straw, after years of disappointment with the adult world – his own father is a demented screwball who abandoned the family. Chuck’s colleagues Morgan, Lester and Jeff are even worse off, going out of their way not to work as much as possible. Lester applauds their manager Big Mike at one point as being an inspiration to slackers everywhere, for bunking off work to go fishing at every opportunity.

This is their only remaining goal in life. Goofing off and schlepping by on 12 dollars an hour.

Chuck is therefore is as much a critique of the Slacker ethos, as it is a standard bearer for the trope created by Richard Linklater’s Slacker and Kevin Smith’s Clerks. Overeducated, alienated and bereft of ambition, the geek was promised the world by the likes of Bill Gates and Richard Branson, but the slackers discovered that all that awaited was a lifetime of white collar slavery. The fantastic narrative of Chuck – nerd enters the dangerous world of espionage, becoming the greatest Marty Sue this side of Fleming’s Bond – is underlined by the growing understanding that Chuck is capable of so much more than retail.

The show has its cake and eats it too by casting well-known names with tremendous geek cred. One running joke in the show is the mockery of Chuck for hanging on to a poster of Tron (interestingly NSA agent John Casey is also mocked for his reverence of Ronald Reagan). Bruce Boxleitner, the actor who played Tron, as well as John Sheridan from Babylon 5 (double geek points) is cast as Chuck’s sister Ellie’s father-in-law.

The actor who played Officer Al (Reginald VelJohnson) from Die Hard, who developed such a heart-warming rapport with Bruce Willis, also appears in a very similar role as…..Officer Al. Ok it’s an identical role.

John Larroquette (Stripes & Boston Legal) appears as one of three proxy Bonds introduced into this show about spies. Tricia Helfer, who memorably played Six in Battlestar Galactica plays yet another agent just as fond of guns as John Casey. Then there was the Candyman Tony Todd as a high ranking mem

ber of the CIA; Scott Bakula from Quantum Leap as the disturbed father of Chuck and Ellie; and last but not least Saturday Night Live’s Chevy Chase imitating Steve Jobs.

There was even a reported incident with Zachary Levi and Joshua Gomez, who play Chuck and Morgan respectively, running up to Adam Baldwin excitedly after they heard his voice work on a video game. Even though Gomez himself has also done video game voiceover work, not to mention Yvonne Strahovski acting in both Mass Effect games.

Yvonne Strahovski in 'Mass Effect

This is a show by nerds, for nerds, but equally it proves that it is not enough to simply be nerds. There’s more to life than nostalgia. When I went to see Kevin Smith’s show in Vicar Street I was bitterly disappointed with how much the man who made Clerks seemed to be resting on his laurels. Now credit to the man, he’s made half a dozen films since, including a sequel to his first picture. Yet here he was complaining of problems with directing Bruce Willis in his latest movie Cop Out (what an apt title), as the actor proved unwilling to recreate some of his fanboy director’s favourite childhood scenes from Moonlighting. Well of course. It sounds like Willis had Smith’s measure here, just another fanboy trying to recapture his youth. To be honest I’m sure he was quite insulted by the request. It sounds like Smith still has a lot of growing up to do.

No harm having some fun every now and then though….I’m going to watch that Tron Legacy trailer again I think.

The debut novel of Austin Grossman is a strange beast. It’s a novel that at its heart is a love letter to comic books, the bastard cousin of the more refined print-based artform, criticised in the past as a childish interest suitable only for illiterates. Grossman himself is feted as a newcomer to genre fiction, although a quick wiki reveals his father is a poet, his mother a novelist, his twin brother also a writer, his sister a scultor – and Grossman himself well-known in the computer game industry for his involvement in

• Ultima Underworld II
• System Shock
• Deus Ex
• Thief: Deadly Shadows
• Tomb Raider: Legend

Plot based Role-Playing Games for the most part, hardly the usual first-time author juvenalia. He’s even written for the New York Times! Then there’s the promotional artwork of Bryan Hitch that features in the book, the comic-book artist credited with inventing the ‘widescreen’, aesthetic that has allowed comics to further ape the visual excesses of big budget summer blockbuster movies. Not the typical amateur cover art then.

Thankfully Soon I Will Be Invincible carries the weight of expectation ably. Its knowing title is a clue to the awareness Grossman brings to the comic book tropes on show. The story focuses on two first-person narratives. Doctor Impossible, a twelve-time imprisoned supervillain who has a horrible habit of blurting his secret plans and blames his villainous behaviour on a personality disorder; and Fatale, a new superheroine plagued by self-doubt in the typical Modern Age fashion, whose tragic origin allows for that other great trope of contemporary comics, the fetishizing of the female body courtesy of her cybernetic implants. Star Trek: Voyager’s Seven-of-Nine meets Brian Michael Bendis’ Alias.

Doctor Impossible, the arch supervillain who just will not quit trying to take over the world, is the stronger character of the two. Given the title I suspect the original draft may have solely focused on his attempts to defeat the hero team The Champions. Perhaps Grossman felt this was too narrow. In any case courtesy of the two POV characters we follow the progression of the plot, with the heroes attempting to stop Doctor Impossible following his latest jailbreak and solve the mystery of their colleague CoreFire’s disappearance.

We are invited to sympathize with the villainous Doc, despite his continued efforts to takeover the world. Even he is unable to explain exactly why he acts as he does. He appears to be of the opinion that his vast intellect actually drives him to be evil, that to see the world as he does predestines supervillainy. In that he follows the Stan Lee tradition of villains who are at times misunderstood, occasionally even noble. Doctor Doom may be a totalitarian dictator whose hatred of Reed Richards is spurred on by vanity – but he also is a bereft son, whose study of the occult was undertaken to rescue his gypsy mother from demons. In Kevin Smith’s Mallrats Lee makes a cameo appearance and delivers dialogue he wrote for the Spider-Man villain the Vulture, which revealed a vulnerable side to the costumed criminal another writer may have ignored.

Grossman’s Doctor Impossible is also not a world away from Joss Whedon’s Dr Horrible, or The Venture Brothers’ The Monarch – both ultimately delusional romantics who have been left disillusioned by the world. The heroes to them are merely the next stage in development of the schoolyard bullies they grew up with. CoreFire’s invulnerability lends him a smugness that’s similar to Whedon’s Captain Hammer: Everyone’s a hero in their own way / Everyone’s got villains they must face / They’re not as cool as mine / But folks you know it’s fine to know your place

The post-Marvel Age, post-Watchmen deconstruction trend allowed writers to re-examine superheroes with regard to their motivations and true intent. Batman became a psychopath, the X-Men child soldiers in a battle of ideologies, Superman a fascist boyscout and the Incredible Hulk a victim of abuse. Grossman plays with this exaggerated comic book ‘realism’, but undercuts it with genuine affection for supers.

At one point Fatale even wonders self-consciously if we have entered a ‘Rust Age’, in keeping with the classifying of different comic book periods as Golden Age, Silver Age etc. The general rule of thumb is that the earlier comic books represent a more hopeful era. Comic book historians have to turn a blind eye to the prevalent racism and misogyny to maintain such a claim, but it’s one that still holds some currency. Fatale herself, with her badgirl look and militarised powers is firmly in keeping with the modern era’s blending of sex and violence. Grossman has her repeatedly question her origins though, obscured by a convenient bout of amnesia and in that query the treatment of characters like Fatale, who are oftentimes designed to titillate rather than exist as independent female superheroes. That this all becomes a function of the plot itself displays just how much Grossman intended the book to be both a critique and a homage to the comics he loves.

Soon I Will Be Invincible I was gratified to discover is much more than a printed version of some gamer’s Champion’s campaign. It’s quite possibly the most entertaining book about comics since Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay.

On Wednesday evening Stephanie and I went to see Kevin Smith play a gig at Vicar Street. I will probably write up a piece on that later, but I just wanted to address one aspect of his ‘talk’. Smith enjoys the format of a Q & A session, which he has half converted into a stand-up comedy gig, his anecdotes ranging across his experiences in the movie industry, the comic industry and of course his sex life. He is highly opinionated  and prone to ‘fanboyitis’, that mode of argument that in the words of Peter Griffin ‘insists upon itself‘.

Case in point – Grant Morrison’s Batman.

With a mere shrug of his shoulders (Smith’s preferred form of argumentation) he wrote off the long-running story arc of the mad Scot’s, titled Batman RIP, as a rigmarole he preferred to avoid. His own Batman stories, with the infamous Walt Flanagan, are set in some indeterminate ‘out of continuity’ period for the Bat. None of that ‘Damian’ Wayne business, or shooting Darkseid with a gun (I mean the idea!), or Dick Grayson/Nightwing stepping up to become the Batman after his mentor’s supposed death. All of that Smith would prefer to avoid.

Which comes across as a bit rich, when we were also treated to a rant on how continuity matters. Ah continuity. What is it good for, huh? The fanboys do like to discuss continuity. Essentially a status quo has to be maintained, so that while every story within the continuum happened, a reader can still approach the book knowing Batman is not going to be on heroin this week. That’s just too different. So Smith and other fanboys-turned-writers place the importance of continuity before the story, as they are complicit in the franchising of comics. Stories should have a beginning, middle and an end. Comic book characters must continue forever. Hence the importance of continuity.

Morrison thinks differently. He places story first. His characters can live or die, become twisted or outgrow their surroundings. Inspired by Smith’s indifference I bought Batman RIP in trade and read through it in one sitting. I didn’t find it overly strange, or difficult to read, as it has been accused of. The main focus of the story is that the idea of Batman is destroyed and all the advantages he enjoys ripped away. The Wayne family’s good name is tarnished. His home ruined. Alfred beaten and kidnapped. Dick Grayson locked up in Arkham and subjected to a lobotomy. Robin on the run. Finally, the woman he loves takes a look around the Batcave, turns to Bruce and asks him a simple question – why are you doing this? These are the actions of a disturbed mind, hanging on to past trauma like a talisman.

That moment crystallises so much about Batman for me and also neatly sums up the mentality of fanboys. Perhaps it is the most objectionable scene within the story for long-time fans (leaving aside the ‘addicted to heroin’ stuff). For so much of RIP is about addressing every aspect of Batman’s history simultaneously, even to the inclusion of the forgotten ‘Bat-mite’ (here a projection of Bruce’s reason and imagination). The arc is a homage, but feels like root-canal as opposed to the usual attempts by 30-something men who should know better attempting to recreate whole storylines from their childhoods today.

Morrison has gone a different route entirely. Destroy the Bat and show how he can survive. How does the man live with what he does? He knows he is possibly psychotic, but chooses to do it anyway, because he has become necessary for the survival of Gotham itself, an entire cityscape gripped by insanity (with Arkham Asylum as its fulcrum).

The book is too abstract, more given to ideas than plot you can get your teeth into. I forgive Morrison this, as with Final Crisis, because the ideas are so crystalline pure to me. He’s a mad Scot, but he gets what makes a story. Take an idea and exhibit it, showing off every possible facet shining and bright.

Grant Morrison explains comic book franchising

The sermon on Geek Mountain

During the week Kevin Smith appeared on a panel with Jeannette Winterson (Oranges are not the Only Fruit) and Natlie Hynes, chaired by Kirsty Wark on BBC’s Newsnight. The episode also featured an interview with Mark Millar on ‘comics’, although this mainly served to promote his own book Kick-Ass, the subject of discussion for the panel and a soon to be released film.

The episode revolved around the statement repeated by Wark, and proclaimed by Millar, that the ‘geek has inherited the earth’. Kevin Smith even appeared in a bathrobe as homage to Douglas Adams. Here, he said, was proof positive of the geek reigning supreme – a fat, sweaty man on a panel discussion show wearing a robe.

Jeannette Winterson was having none of it though and argued that comics as a whole are misogynistic. Whereas her fellow panellists were more forgiving (Natalie Hynes compared season two of Buffy to the Aeneid; Kevin Smith’s stoutest rebuttal was ‘its comics :shrug:’), it was clear that two seperate discussions were playing out here. For all the talk of the mainstreaming of geek culture, here was a prize-winning author pointing out the uncomfortable fact that comics often leave a bad taste in the mouth. Yes team comics are quick to point out that there are ‘empowering’ books like Birds of Prey (cancelled), or strong heroines like Tulip from Preacher (finished nine years ago), and Winterson has obviously never read Alias, or Bone, or the work of the Hernandez clan.

She still has a point*. What’s more she represents something of an actual vanguard of culture, in that she is using reasoned argument, whereas ‘it’s comics!’ or ’she’s kick-ass’, smack of inarticulate message board postings. For too long geek culture has subsisted under the radar and criticism of its outpourings is more likely to be met with defensive, angry reactions.

Are comics mysogynistic? A lot of them are. Has the geek inherited the earth? No, he or she is just another ready source of revenue for studios and companies hawking franchises.

Oh and Grant Morrison said the geek has inherited the earth years ago Mark, stop being such an echo.

* Has anyone pointed out to Ms Winterson that her own novel featured in a parody by the Spaced team? I doubt it.

From this rough material I shall fashion an article suitable for civil servants nationwide! This I vow.

Though I returned from the northernmost city of culture a week ago, I’m only now attempting to put my thoughts on the trip in order. First I should probably start with how a lowly deskjockey like myself wrangled a free festival media pass. A month or two back the lovely Melinda txted to ask if I was free to attend the premiere of her father Basil Gelpke’s film A Crude Awakening in Edinburgh. Of course I jumped at the chance. As the weeks pass I got to thinking though. I work for a magazine – more or less – the festival offers passes to journalists – more or less – and there was no reason, no real reason, why I couldn’t apply myself. So I did. I sent off a copy of the magazine, a completed application form and a sample of my writing. Several days pass and I receive notice that I will indeed qualify to attend all industry screenings for the festival.

So we were off. The first day was typically sleep deprived thanks to an early flight from Dublin Airport with Ryanair (which in turn meant an even earlier start – queues stretched right round the ticket area and proved a complete nightmare). It’s still amazing that we two travellers mangaged to stand on our own feet for the duration of the day. But once we arrived back in my favourite city everything fell into place. We met Basil at a screening of Colour Me Kubrick (a comedy starring John Malkovich about a Kubrick impersonator ligging his way about the country during the filming of Eyes Wide Shut). The screening was held in the Cameo cinema on Lothian road, which had flatscreens dotting the walls displaying interviews that had already been held with the likes of Kevin Smith & Charlize Theron. During the afternoon we caught Al Gore’s film An Inconvenient Truth, which hopefully may startle some special interests into pursuing some action on environmental controls, but which I found overall condescending and simplistic. Animated sequences involving a sad polar bear and a jocular frog reminded me of the Troy McClure public information shorts from the Simpsons. Gore himself was in town that weekend and the red carpet was duly rolled out. What a strange figure to be transformed from failed presidential candidate to festival carpet padder, numbered now among the ranks of celebrity.

Basil’s own film A Crude Awakening I found far better. Hopefully the picture will acquire adequate distribution, but it is far worthier, as it features interviews with actual experts on the oil crisis, who can articulate the attendant problems with peak oil, alternative energy sources and the current international political climate. Together with fellow film maker Ray McCormack, the director answered questions afterwards from an audience of mostly expat Americans. It’s striking just how little the issues involved in this situation are discussed publicly or in the media, yet so many are aware, only choosing to speak out at cinema q & a sessions.

Finally I claimed my journalist pass and discovered it entitled me to more than free screenings. I was also able to view films that had already screened which I had missed. There were a number of pictures available, but I tried to choose ones less likely to get distribution in Ireland, so nix to Wristcutters A Romance (based on a novel by an Israeli writer, which I’d already read serialised in Bi-Polar and starred Will Arnett – GOB from Arrested Development – Tom Waits and Sharon Sossamon); LoudquietLoudetc. the Pixies doc (out soon in the IFI, so why bother); An Unexpected Guest (a fantastic looking Spanish Hitchcock style thriller about a man haunted in his own house by an intruder). So in went the dvd titled Al Franken – God Spoke.

I have beheld the face of evil. Ann Coulter. Brrr. She’s tall, leggy, blond and hasn’t a frickin’ clue what she’s talking about. Along with Bill O’Reilly, Franken has selected her to be his nemesis in his book Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them. The film tracks Franken’s progress from the publication of the book to the disspiriting second successful Bush election. Among the highlights is his encounter with Henry Kissinger at a crowded party, were he chooses to treat the Nobel Peace Prize awarded warmonger to his ‘Kissinger bit’. Priceless. It’s also a very affecting film, as we witness Franken’s deep personal politicial convictions be tested at every turn, pushed further and further into the political fray each time he chooses to open his mouth. Well worth seeing if you have the chance.

Later after dinner (oh god – I’m a man who likes his food, but oh my sweet lord that was good) I went to see Micky and Nicky, Elaine May’s second film starring John Cassavetes and Peter Falk. Difficult to find, I’m glad I got to see it with an audience as taken with the picture as I came to be. It’s a film about male friendship and the destructive nature of relationships in general. It’s very funny and brutal. If I can track it down on dvd it’s on my lend-to-friends list.

Then I wound up at a Diesel Jeans party. Now guys who bring their girlfriends to a party are always running a risk. Maybe she’ll meet someone else, someone more attentive (at least for that evening), someone more attractive and funny. It goes both ways of course. Introducing your significant other into a social gathering always carries with it the attendant pressures of a new dynamic. But think of the guy who brings his girlfriend from the movie industry to a party filled with well-to-do directors and producers, who could well advance her career. Feel sorry for that guy. I witnessed such a man get crushed right in front of me on the balcony of a penthouse suite, smoke fogging the air and booze clouding the brain. Poor fecker. And then came sleep.

The next morning brought us a neat lil sugar rush (hmmm aniseed. The Scots may have very unhealthy food, but feck it, I want my childhood sweet shops back!) a cholesterol raising fry and a return trip to the videoteque to watch first Clerks II and a documentary on the recent elections in Iraq: My Country, My Country. Clerks lifted us up before the sadness of the Iraqi film, directed by a fearless female film-maker who managed to acquire footage from both the Sunni community and the US military. Excellent picture.

Clerks II has so many class lines in it. Randall’s diatribe on LOTR is a laugh out loud moment, as well as his campaign to redeem ‘Porch Monkey’. Overall it’s a very sweet movie with a dirty mouth. And Jay’s homage to Silence of the Lambs proves to be possibly the best scene ever performed by the addled Mr. Mewes. See it with friends. Kevin Smith’s pic went on to win the audience award at the festival – hopefully enough to reward a man brave enough to cast his own wife as a controlling bitca.

Now Melinda had never seen a stand-up comedian before, so I in my wisdom took her to see Doug Stanhope. Y’know, the man who was chased out of Kilkenny for suggesting that Ireland has so many paedophile priests because Irish women are so ugly. He’s a pretty brave man too. He opened his increasingly drunken set by trying to set the record straight on media accusations of anti-semitism. Now this was a hot topic at the festival, as two comedians were accused this year of anti-semitism based on their performances. Somehow Stanhope got lumped in with this group. So his opening remarks on the night went as follows: ‘I never said I hated the Jews…I said if Mel Gibson can get so much free press by saying he does, well than why can’t I get a piece.’ Nervous laughter followed. He’s not Bill Hicks, or Lenny Bruce, or Richard Pryor, as some of the trades have it. But he can be funny. Like so:

“If marriage didn’t exist, would you invent it? Would you be like ‘hey baby, this love we got is too big for just the two of us. Lets get the government involved! Lets federalise this! Do you know any lawyers?”

Of course Mel hated it.

Afterwards we were invited to attend the festival Best Documentary awards. Unfortunately A Crude Awakening did not win (that honour went to a picture on Osaka rentboys), but a fine time – and some fine wine – was had nonetheless. Brian De Palma was in attendance, as was a drunken Sean Connery (though honestly how could one tell?) as chair of the festival and a personal highlight Marc Cousins, the former head of the festival committee and host of the long lamented Videodrome. Ten years ago he summarised the appeal of Dazed and Confused in an introduction to the movie as follows:

Adolescence is that time in one’s life when one is sure that someone, somewhere else is having more fun than you.

On the last days we ran to get tickets for the final showing of Aurora, by the director of Nine Queens Fabian Bielinsky, who recently passed away. Before that we caught a showing of My Name is Rachel Corrie, adapted from the diaries and e-mails of a student activist from the States who went to protest the incursion on Palestinian settlements by the Israeli military and was shortly thereafter murdered, crushed beneath a bull-dozer. Adapted and directed by Alan Rickman, it’s simply the best piece of theatre I’ve seen. Doubtless it’ll never make it to Dublin, but if you get a chance to catch it in London do. Aurora afterwards proved to be a slow moving heist movie concerning an Argentinian epileptic taxidermist prone to fantasising about robbing banks. After his wife leaves him he goes on a hunting trip and through a series of accidents, becomes involved in a casino robbery.

And that was it. A final day’s shopping around the city followed and then the 10pm flight back to ol’ Dublin. I’ll be back next year of course. But not with Ryanair. Feckers.