The Mix : What are people talking about today?

Marc Alan Fishman: Super-Hero Fantasy Football

My beloved Chicago Bears are a team in turmoil. After installing a new head coach roughly two seasons ago, the team has simply never gelled since. This being in spite of fielding a team that is built beautifully on paper. Suffice to say as a fan, I’m left crushed and crestfallen.

But whereas die-hard football fans would simply spend the remaining time of the current season hatewatching games and greedily predicting the firing of staff, I myself am choosing a path of less anguish. No denial, anger, bargaining, depression, or really even acceptance. I’m choosing instead the art of distraction. OK, sure I bet that files under denial, but c’mon: I’m not denying my Bears blew this season in all three phases of the game. Rather than wallow in it, I think it’s a better use of my time to use my somewhat encyclopedic knowledge of comic book characters to build my own team of comics-based footballery.

From time to time we’ve seen the occasional X-Men softball game. Or perhaps a few long-lost scenes of a young Clark Kent tossing the pigskin around. But no, here, I’m relying on the known commodity that is the playground What If game. Here, the rules are simple: I’m constructing my own team of comic book characters to be fielded against any of your chosen champions. In an ultimate contest of “…nuh-uh, my team is better!” It should be fun!

Head Coach: Batman

The best coaches are motivators and strategists. Not withstanding his physical abilities, the greatest asset of the Dark Knight truly is his mind. I could think of no one better to organize a team, develop strategies that capitalize on a team’s strengths, as well as poke holes in the opponents. And while no one on my team would necessarily attempt to “Win one for the Gipper” through some unspoken bond of camaraderie, let’s be honest: Bruce has enough bat-bucks to incentivize his team if the thrill of victory isn’t enough. Furthermore, if the man’s backup plans to defeat the JLA could be used to easily thwart the JLA, well, imagine what would happen if planning was his only job!

Quarterbacks: Captain America (starter), Hawkeye / Green Arrow (backups)

Face it, every team needs that moral center. And at the best teams within the NFL in my lifetime? You have your Tom Bradys, Peyton Mannings, Drew Breeses, and the like. They’re these good ol’ boys who can make stars out of everybody around them. They rally to save the day. They don’t make stupid mistakes when the chips are down. Captain America is all of that and more. He’s a leader – natch – a strategist, and more than capable of firing an accurate projectile. Simply put, there’s no way I could found my team without him at the helm on the field of battle. And as a safe backups? The archers are just safe bets to move the ball accurately across the field.

Running Back / Fullback: The Flash, Juggernaut

When it comes to setting the run down, I’m a firm believer in potent tandems. The Flash is of course the speed on the team. Get the ball in his hand, set his blocks, and he’s in the red zone before you can blink. And when finesse isn’t needed on the goal line? Just put it in the hands of the unstoppable force. And if you don’t believe this balance works? Go ask the 85′ Bears’ Walter Peyton and Walter Perry.

Wide Receivers: Hawkman, Spider-Man, Mister Miracle

The ability to “go up and get it” is my primary concern. Having a natural flyer, a first-class acrobat, and a man who can literally get out of any coverage he might be in, all in order to come down with the ball? Well, that spells yardage to me. And certainly in all three cases, getting yards after catch is clearly not a concern.

The Offensive Line: The Blob (Center), Colossus and Strong Guy (Guards), Bishop and Groot (Setting the edge)

When it comes to protecting the QB, I can think of no line better. I basically built off the idea of immobile behemoths who can stand as a literal human (and tree) wall, from which Captain America can stand behind full-well knowing he has precious time to survey the field. And considering the line consists of an immovable object, two top-heavy strong-men, a guy who can absorb kinetic energy, and a living tree who can at least make things thorny if a linebacker slips by… I’m pretty well set.

Tight End: Beast (starter), Hal Jordan (backup)

A good tight end is many things to a team. He’s a lead-blocker. A pass-catcher. A known diversion. Basically, in my eyes… a wildcard capable of disrupting a defense in any number of situations. I believe with a thinker like Beast lining up, I’d gain insight, agility, and raw strength when needed. And should he be too physical a presence? Well, ole’ Hal and his trust emerald ring of power would do plenty to keep an opposing defender distracted. And hey, no one said you can’t catch a pass with a giant boxing glove, right?

The Defensive Line: Solomon Grundy, Grodd, Doomsday, The Thing

Forgive me: I just wanted four big, mean, nasty dudes ready to tear apart anything that moves when the ball is hiked. I give myself +5 points for choosing a monkey with telepathic powers to boot.

Linebackers: Thor, Hulk, Wonder Woman

Much like the D-Line, my LBs are all about aggression. But unlike Grundy and the gang, here I wanted to add a bit of mobility. While Hulk isn’t exactly light in the loafers… he more than makes up for it with the ability to leap great distances. And anyone who tried to skirt past either of my demi-gods will be eating dirt I say. Verily!

Safeties: Iceman, Plastic Man

Hear me out on this one kiddos. Safeties are those choice defensemen that disrupt any number of offensive tricks. Sending a great receiver down the field? Good luck doing it with ice under foot! Or if I choose to send an odd blitzer, what better to do it then a red and flesh colored bulldozer, complete with wacky sound effects? Nothing. Nothing is better than that.

Corner Backs: Wolverine, The Human Torch

A good corner is the type of guy willing to ride a receiver down the line every step of the way, and when the ball comes sailing towards their hands… no quarter is given. I could easily see “the best there is at what he does” being the type of evil scrapper than would ensure if a catch were to be pulled down… there’d be a short Canadian right there to make him pay. And if an adamantium-laced brawler isn’t doing it for you, how about a man literally on fire? Catch that ball with the heat of the sun literally breathing down your back. I dare you.

And last but not least… the kicker: Iron Man

Because Batman is the coach, and he’d probably get a kick out of a drunk punter.

I know I went a bit long, but I hope it got your gears spinning. So, who would be on your team?

 

The Point Radio: Janet Varney – So Much More Than KORRA

To a legion of LEGEND OF KORRA fans, Janet Varney IS Korra, but there’s so much more to this phenomenally talented lady. Her success checklist contains the legendary SF Sketchfest, YOU’RE THE WORST and of course her weekly JV CLUB podcast. We jump into it all in the first part of our interview. Then, take a good look at your friends or family and see if they have quirks which may result in MY STRANGE CRIMINAL ADDITION. Host, and addition specialist, Dr. Mike Dow, talks about what we will see on the Investigation Discovery series.

Next week marks our 7th anniversary and we’ll be back right here midweek to celebrate with you!

THE POINT covers it 24/7! Take us ANYWHERE on ANY mobile device (Apple or Android). Just  get the free app, iNet Radio in The  iTunes App store – and it’s FREE!  The Point Radio  – 24 hours a day of pop culture fun. GO HERE and LISTEN FREE  – and follow us on Twitter @ThePointRadio.

Martha Thomases: Gifting Comics

bitchplanet-320x240

Hanukkah is halfway over and Christmas is next week. Traditionally, columnists with no ideas use this as an opportunity to recommend gift ideas that, ideally, benefits themselves, their families or their friends.

Here’s the thing. I don’t know your gift-giving needs. I don’t know your friends. I don’t know your tastes, and your budget is none of my business. These are books that, if I didn’t already own them and love them, I would want to get. If they are new to you, I envy the good times you have ahead.

I want to start off with Mimi Pond because, well, I know her a little bit and this will make me seem important. She and I both freelanced for the fashion section of The Village Voice back in the late seventies and early eighties. Fashion was like the ugly stepchild at the paper, not worthy of the seriousness of purpose to which the alternative press was dedicated.

Anyway, over the years, Mimi has created a bunch of really, really funny books. Secrets of the Powder Room is laugh-out-loud uproarious. Shoes Never Lie made the jokes that were still being stolen on Sex and the City thirty years later.

This year, however, Pond went in a different direction (to me, anyway) and produced a beautiful graphic novel, Over Easy. It’s about her experiences waiting tables, and while that might seem really trite and banal (haven’t we read a million books about the shitty jobs artists take to support their art?), it’s really atmospheric and lovely. The characters are instantly distinct, the world in which they live is both exotic and recognizable. I loved just about everybody in it, and I was sorry to see the story end. We want more, Mimi!

I don’t know Kelly Sue DeConnick. I’d like to, but so far, the most I can say is that we were in the same room at New York Comic-Con and I thought about going up to introduce myself, but then she was mobbed and I didn’t want to be in that mob. She has a new book out, Bitch Planet  and while it’s only one issue, it’s already hilarious.

Bitch Planet takes the “women in prison” scenario (or, as Michael O’Donoghue used to call it, “Kittens in a Can”) and takes it for a militant feminist whirl. It subverts a lot of my assumptions (you mean the skinny white woman isn’t the main character?) and the ads on the back cover are really, really funny.

There has been a minor kerfuffle on the Interwebs because a local comic book store wrote up a solicitation for the book and referred to Ms. DeConnick as “Mrs. Matt Fraction.” They also listed Mr. Fraction as “Mr. Kelly Sue DeConnick.” The joke misfired, there was outrage all the way around, and the store apologized (and, I hope, figured out why that was offensive).

None of this is a slam on Matt Fraction. I’m sure no one thinks he’s riding on his wife’s coattails. Along with artist Chip Zdarsky, he’s created Sex Criminals, one of the funniest comics ever. You can read the first issues in a trade paperback collection and you should. I haven’t been made to feel so sexually inadequate by a comic book since American Flagg.

The story and the characters are wonderful but my favorite part of the series is the letter column, which usually goes on for five or six pages. Readers send in not only commentary on the stories, but also shameful confessions, awkward questions, and unsolicited advice. Matt and Chip answer in the same tone. Here’s a brief sample of what they sound like.

I was really disappointed that the collection didn’t include the letter columns, although it does have some brand-new text pages that are also reasonably hilarious. Fortunately, Image collected a bunch of the letter column stuff, and new stuff with more artwork, and dubbed it Just the Tip <  >, a cute little hard cover book that’s the perfect stocking stuffer for those of you who stuff stockings.

If you’ve read my column during the year, you know that I also recommend The Fifth Beatle and March and Sage and Snowpiercer. I don’t know if I wrote about them, but I liked them, and you should know.

Happy holidays, one and all.

 

Tweeks: Disney’s Hunchback Takes to the Stage

hunchback-la-jolla-playhouse-1391004As big theater & Disney Geeks, there’s little better than a Broadway-bound Disney musical and so The Tweeks couldn’t miss the U.S. Premiere of The Hunchback of Notre Dame at the La Jolla Playhouse.  Before it hits the East Coast at The Paper Mill Playhouse this Spring, on it’s way the Great White Way, find out what to expect from this Alan Menken (The Little Mermaid, Newsies, Beauty And The Beast, we could go on for days with this man’s composer credits) & Stephen Schwartz (Wicked, Pippin, Enchanted) collaboration based on the entertaining, but hardly classic 1996 animated film.  With a story split half and half between the cartoon feature and the Victor Hugo book, this is a more serious, dark and depressing Disney venture definitely made for a more mature audience. It’s like Maleficent compared to Sleeping Beauty.  We like to call it Les Mis starring Flynn Ryder.  Lots of Disney “Prince” smoldering and a delusionally obsessive villain-y type who thinks he’s on the right side of justice.  If you appreciate musical theater just a smidge or at least can appreciate Disney quality, you need to keep this show on your radar.

Dennis O’Neil: Of History And Time Travel

Okay, pay attention now because this won’t be easy to understand.

First, a couple of news items:

A time capsule buried near the State House in Boston in 1795 by Paul Revere and Samuel Adams was unearthed last week during some repair work.

And scientists have actually seen some dark matter. They’ve been speculating about it for quite a while, but last week a team of stargazers at the Keck observatory in Hawaii actually glimpsed it a long, long way off.

Some of you are probably giving a so what shrug. What has this to do with the midseason finale of the Arrow television show and why am I not writing about that? Because, yeah, that was a hell of a final scene. Well, maybe we’ll get to it next week, if we’re not distracted by holiday matters. Because, you know, the season to be jolly can be a drag and some of us have never figured out how to handle it with elegance and grace.

Anyway, what must have happened back in 1795 was that someone came into Paul Revere’s shop and maybe introduced himself as a friend of Ben Franklin’s – easy to believe because Ben got around – and in the course of some colonial chit chat suggested that Paul might get together with Sam and the two of them might want to bury a time capsule. I mean, why not? Then Ben’s ”friend” might have said that he just happened to have a time capsule in his carriage, parked right outside, and Paul was welcome to it.

Of course, by now you realize that the “friend” was really an alien and what he was offering Mr. Revere was, in fact, a time capsule, but not the kind Paul was thinking of. No, this alien artifact was a cunningly disguised time collector. What a time collector does, as you must surely know, is collect the bits and pieces of time that nobody is using – a nanosecond here, a fortnight there – and just kind of store them until they’re needed, a bit like a Christmas lay away plan. And that’s what the container that Paul and Sam buried has been doing for the past 219 years: collecting.

Now, for who-knows-what reason, the alien has returned. To do that – this is a matter of celestial mechanics – he’s had to reveal a bit of his dark matter home, (He was probably hoping that the folks at Keck were looking the other way.) Why come back now? My best guess is that one of his pals who lives here on Earth communicated across the void and told the pseudo Ben friend that the capsule is to be opened this week. Then? The collected time whooshes out, a mighty tidal wave of chronology, and carries us through the rest of the century, a span full of dangers, some of which could obliterate us. Finis. Kaput. The End. But the time wave will deposit us safely in 2100 and all will be well.

And think of all the Christmases we won’t have to celebrate.

 

Mindy Newell: Baby Mine

Baby mine, don’t you cry. / Baby mine, dry your eyes. / Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, / Baby of mine. • From Walt Disney’s “Dumbo”(1941), Words and Lyrics by Frank Churchill and Ned Washington

So Donna Troy is coming back.

Only this isn’t the vibrant, intelligent, powerful, and oh-so-very human – with all the foibles and strengths inherent in homo sapiens – young woman that I came to know and love back in the day when Marv Wolfman and George Pérez created and collaborated on The New Teen Titans.

This is a Donna created through the teamwork of Meredith and David Finch, who has been granted life through the dark arts, through black magic, and as she rises naked from the brewing miasma of a black cauldron, and so we react with fear and horror, our intrinsic fear of human sacrifice, blood ritual, and “unnatural” life causing us to recoil in horror and to whisper a psalm of David, to cross ourselves in supplication to God, to ward off this, this thing with shaking hands making patterns in the air, signs and symbols as ancient and as useless as our dead forefathers who huddled in fear on the plains of Africa as the light left the world and the darkness arose.

This thing is something forged in fire and brimstone. This thing is evil personified. This thing is wickedness beyond redemption.

This thing is sin come to life.

Yet once there was a woman, whose soul was dying from longing. Yet once there was a woman whose arms reached to hold nothing but empty air. Yet once there was a woman whose life was desolate with the silence of her home. And so this woman prayed to her gods for relief from this sorrowful existence, begged them to release her from her solitary misery.

She fasted in repentance; she washed only enough to ward off evil odor; and she put off wearing colors and smooth satins and silk, and dressed herself in haircloth and solemn hues. She ate sparingly, only enough to keep her alive, and took the bounties of her kitchen to the sick and needy among her sisters. And yet, for so long that Queen Hippolyta of Themiscrya lost track of the days, months, and years of her travail, the gods were silent.

And her Amazons whispered behind her back, and some thought that she must be overthrown, for she was mad, they said, and death will come to us all in following her, as surely as it did to the daughters of King Cecrops of Athens, who threw themselves from the Acropolis, or into the sea. But others calmed them, saying that the melancholia in their queen’s heart would find respite in their loyalty.

Then, one night the queen had a dream. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, came to her and whispered instructions into her ear. “Do not speak of this to anyone,” the winged herald said. “For if you do the gods will turn away from you and your life, such as it is, will continue in solitude as you watch your sisters and this paradise come to enmity and fall into entropy and chaos.

That morning the queen bathed once again in the milk of heifers, and had her attendants clothe her in the magnificence that was her due. She perfumed herself with the musk of roses and broke her fast with jellied eels and warm bread, and once again slaked her thirst with the waters of the Pool of Life. Her attendants asked her many questions, but, remembering the words of Hermes, she silenced them and sent them away.

Alone now, Hippolyta made her way to the shores of Paradise Island, where in a hidden cove she stripped herself of her finery. Naked, the queen made absolution to the gods, smearing her face with the mud of the ocean, and also over her womb and breasts. She knelt in the wet sand, and from that same mud formed the figure of a newborn babe.

And she prayed, repeating the words that Hermes had whispered in her dream.

The sky darkened and night fell upon Themiscrya, though it was noon. A cold wind blew and Hippolyta shivered as it battered her naked body. She looked up into the sky and saw that Selene, the goddess of the moon, had eclipsed Helios, the god of the sun, for this was the time of woman.

She looked back down upon the clay figure, and as she did so, she felt her breasts suddenly grow heavy and milk leaked from her nipples. A great pain spasmed through her loins and up into her uterus, and the queen lay down, crying out in a moment of fear as her legs drew up over her stomach and something moved within her body. For what seemed a lifetime Hippolyta lay there on the beach, wracked with pain, unable to stir afraid, sure that she was being punished for her arrogance in not accepting the fate woven for her by the Morai.

“Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos, forgive me,” she groaned. “Forgive my presumption. Allow me to live to serve you and my Amazons.”

There was no answer.

And then there was a light, such a bright golden radiance, so that Hippolyta closed her eyes against it. And there were two voices.

“Do not be afraid, daughter,” said Leto, the goddess of motherhood.

“I am with you, as I am with all women at their time,” said Eileithya, the goddess of childhood.

Hippolyta opened her eyes. The goddesses, bathed in a glow that had no earthly source, stood before her.

“We have heard your prayers,” said Leto.

“And they are answered,” said Eilethya.

Suddenly the queen felt as if a great chariot lay at the doorway of her secret place, that place where no man had touched in so long. She felt, rather than saw, the two goddesses kneel on either side of her, then one was behind her and pushing her up into a sitting position, but taking the weight of Hippolyta upon herself. Opening her eyes, Hippolyta saw the other – was it Eilethya? – crouch before her, a blanket of silver cotton in her hands. “You must push now,” said the goddess. “Lean again Leto. She will be your rock.”

Hippolyta felt as though she was falling off a great cliff. From high above her, she heard the goddesses speak. Their brightness was as a pinprick in the darkness starting to envelop her.

“She will be the greatest of the Amazons, a gift not only to yourself, but to the world, for it is to the world she will belong.”

“A great warrior against the darkness, yet her soul and heart will be full of love,” said Eilethya. “All the glories and gifts of all the gods and goddesses of Olympus will be hers.”

“Her name will be Diana,” said Leto.

Warm salt water was in her nose and her mouth, and Hippolyta sat up with a start. The sun was warm on her hair and shoulders; it was noon, judging from the position of the sun; she was still in the cove, with only the sound of the surf and the cry of seagulls for company. Why had she come here? She had a memory of covering her face and parts of her body with mud, but reaching up to her cheek, there was nothing there except for a few wet grains of sand. She lifted her gown, which was soggy with ocean water. Her body was clean except for a few stray pieces of seaweed on her belly.

The queen shuddered. Had there truly been an eclipse? Had she dreamed it all? Or was she, as she knew many whispered, truly mad?

No.

That wasn’t the sound of seagulls.

A baby was crying somewhere.

But there had been no babies born in Themiscrya for millennia, not since the last children were born to those Amazons who had been raped by the men of Greece and Sparta in that terrible final war. A war which had led Queen Hippolyta – she herself raped by Hercules, though no child had resulted – to lead those surviving sisters who were willing to turn their back on what came to be known as “Man’s World” to Paradise. The immortal island.

The baby – if that was what it was–was still crying. Hippolyta followed the sound with her eyes.

There. Just where the surf met the sand. Something was lying there. Shakily, Hippolyta rose to her feet.

As she did so, she felt a warm gush of liquid spurt from her breasts, staining her gown. And a trickle of blood slid down her inner thigh. As if….

She stared down at the baby. It had black hair, black like the waters of the River Styx, and eyes were a strange green-blue, reflecting the color of the Aegean Sea where it met the Mesogeios.

The queen picked up the infant, who was wrapped in a blanket of very fine and very soft silver.

“Diana,” Hippolyta whispered.

The baby found the mother’s nipple, and nursed.

 

Mike Gold: Jack Davis, We Truly Knew Ye

Jack Davis FrankensteinRelax. This isn’t an obituary. It’s bad news, but it’s not an obituary. And that’s the good news.

First, the headline. Legendary cartoonist Jack Davis decided to retire. One of the very last of the EC artists, one of the very best of the Mad Magazine artists and a man whose work graced hundreds of TV Guide and Time Magazine covers and movie posters and record albums and books finally decided that, after 90 years on this planet, it’s time to call it a career.

We kick the word “legendary” around a lot, but here the word is not rich enough to convey the quality and the width and breadth of his work. Jack is best known for his satirical illustrations, but he was equally gifted in storytelling. His comic book work includes most all genres – science fiction, westerns, war stories, horror, sports… and that’s just his stuff for EC Comics.

jack-davis-5823714Second, the personal story. Some time ago, I was sitting at a massive table at New York’s Society of Illustrators with a bunch of other people, folks who were actually talented. We were judging a humor in illustration contest, and we discussed each entry. For me, this was akin to going to college. To the right of me sat Jack Davis. Not to put down any of the other gifted folks at the table, but damnit, I was sitting next to Jack Davis! He turned to me and made a comment that seemed to me like a sound effect from Charlie Brown’s parents. All I could think of was “how the hell did I get to be here?”

Actually, that’s the polite version. I might have been drooling, but if so, Jack could have drawn it better.

Finally, the clever Jack Davis anecdote. It’s one of the more famous, and it deserves to be repeated. Jack Davis was, and may still be, an inveterate golfer. I am told it is an addiction. One day he was teeing up and was reminded by a companion that he was right on deadline. Jack stopped, walked over to the golf cart, whipped out his pen and found something upon which to work and he drew the assignment right there on the cart!

As an editor, I cannot begin to tell you how much I admire that level of professionalism… not to mention his sense of priorities. He didn’t slow the game down at all, as his foursome had yet to complete the hole.

When called for a comment, Jack told Wired Magazine “I’m not satisfied with the work. I can still draw, but I just can’t draw like I used to.” Yeah, well, the rest of us could never draw like you used to, Jack, and I’ll bet my last barbecue brisket sandwich that your work today remains top drawer.

My dear friend Mark Wheatley said we knew this day was going to come, and of course he’s right about that. It happens to us all, probably. But, damn, I’ve spent an entire lifetime enjoying his career and now I can no longer live in denial.

Thanks, Jack. You are a master and your work will live long after the last tree is pulped.

 

The Point Radio: Alicia Witt’s Real Christmas Story

Since the age of nine, actress Alicia Witt has dazzled us with her work in JUSTIFIED, MR HOLLAND’S OPUS and CYBILL. Again this year, she has a holiday project with The Hallmark Channel but also a new Christmas(!) song that might be the most honest one yet. She explains how she really isn’t a Grinch all the time. Plus both Andrea Roth and Tricia Helfer reveal why you should be locked onto ASCENSION on SyFy all this week.

THE POINT covers it 24/7! Take us ANYWHERE on ANY mobile device (Apple or Android). Just  get the free app, iNet Radio in The  iTunes App store – and it’s FREE!  The Point Radio  – 24 hours a day of pop culture fun. GO HERE and LISTEN FREE  – and follow us on Twitter @ThePointRadio.

Emily S. Whitten: ‘Tis the Season…

…For the Winter Blargh, that is. I don’t know why, but it seems inevitable that at least once a winter I get struck down by the Blargh. Sometimes it’s just for a couple of days. This year’s has been particularly harsh, as it’s been over a week and symptoms are still lingering.

So, alas, my energy levels are a bit low, and my wit is not sparkling or even really sparking right now, and when Neuron 1 in my brain says to Neuron 2, “It is time to think of exciting things to write about,” Neuron 2 says, “What? I’m sorry, I can’t think about anything at all except maybe my primary occupation of Staring Blankly At Things While Considering All The Stuff I’m Not Getting Done As The Holidays Rush Towards Me.” And then I cough.

However, just because I’m a little blah doesn’t mean you need to be! So in lieu of my usual writing, here is my version of Season’s Greetings From DC, a.k.a. a link to the <a href=”

Band’s Holiday Flash Mob 2014 at the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum. I’ve never gotten to see it in person (yet!) but it’s pretty cool. So enjoy!

And until next time, Servo Lectio!

Box Office Democracy: “Exodus: Gods and Kings”

Exodus: Gods and Kings is a throwback to another era of filmmaking, a time when Hollywood was obsessed with sweeping epics and the infamous “cast of thousands” drawing people to the theater to see the sheer spectacle of it all. While there’s certainly no shortage of spectacle at the multiplexes these days Exodus feels less like a loving throwback and more like a lumbering dinosaur, it’s feels like a movie from a different era for sure but I would much prefer it felt like something I’d never seen than something that bored my in middle school. It wastes a talented cast and some stunning visuals but just ultimately feels pointless.

The problems in Exodus all come back to problems with the protagonist. Moses does not resemble the character I remember from Sunday school; he’s a brilliant general and a peerless swordsman to name two new characteristics. None of this newfound character badassery is of any use at all to the story though as all of the work of liberating the Hebrew slaves from their bondage is done by God. God even specifically calls out Moses’ ineptitude when his plan of guerilla warfare will take too long. The main character has nothing to do with any of the successes or failures in the main plot past the very first section of the movie and so there’s very little investment in the outcome especially when you consider that literally everyone in the audience knows how this story ends.

Ridley Scott is a fantastic director and he has made a beautiful movie. He makes the ten plagues feel so big and so horrible the mini-montages are practically worth the price of admission themselves. They show a level of craft and an eye for cinema that comes from a superb director, I have no doubt that most other people would have made worse choices and produced something that felt either overdone or campy. Unfortunately outside of the plague scenes the movie looks just a little too much like Gladiator for my taste. These old suits of armor and the massive armies don’t feel fresh to me; they feel like Scott is trying to use an old shorthand to connect to his audience. It feels just a touch too lazy and lazy is never a word I would have used about Ridley Scott before.

I feel it’s important to touch upon the race issues in the film because if anything I think they’re being underreported. Yes, all of the principle characters in the film are played by white people and that’s horrible but it’s really telling where they decided where it was ok to case people of color: the wives of Moses and Ramses. In these roles they cast an Iranian and a Spanish woman and exoticized them as much as they possibly could. These women have the darkest skin of almost anyone in the movie and with that comes an elevated level of sexualization. Nefertari is only seen in bed and Zipporah does this repeated bit of weird sexual gatekeeping. It’s the worst racial choice in a movie full where dozens of white people wear makeup to appear browner. It’s profoundly disappointing.

Categories

Archives

Everything you need to make great comics!

comicmix-pro-300x69-2

Nucleus X

Bookshop Zaks