While guys like Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas spent the 1970s reinventing live action moviemaking, animation had just one lone figure toiling away. Ralph Bakshi, trained on Terrytoons and involved in 1960s television animation, began exploring the possibilities of animated features in the shadow of Walt Disney’s death. His Fritz the Cat made people sit up and take notice, followed by Heavy Traffic, and Coonskin – urban, funky, raw tales set in a familiar world.

After that, he set his sights on something fantastic and gave us, in 1976, Wizards. I’ve been waiting for this film to be restored, cleaned up, and released on Blu-ray given its visual artistry and fun story. Finally, 20^th Century Home Entertainment has released it for the film’s 35^th Anniversary and they’ve given it a handsome treatment. Encased in a hardcover case with a 24-page booklet, the Blu-ray is striking to watch. (more…)

Well, I suppose it was inevitable.

After all, the American Nazis objected to Heimdall being played by a black man in last year’s Thor movie. To swing 180 degrees in the opposite direction, many Asian groups objected to the casting of a European in the role of a Eurasian in the play Miss Saigon. They felt that the part should have gone to an Asian and not to a Eur.

There are numerous examples of this, and some attracted justifiable outrage. I’m not too certain about the Miss Saigon thing: the character is Eurasian but Asians are woefully underrepresented on western stages. The Thor thing is just completely stupid: Heimdall is Asgardian and not Teutonic, and the American Nazis are assholes.

Several thousand white actors have been cast as American Indians in several hundred (at least) motion pictures, and that’s simply wrong. We should have grown out of that, yet for the past several years I’ve been involved in a comics project that stars an American Indian lead but has been “unsellable” to Hollywood because they “can’t find” an acceptable American Indian actor. Besides, there are none who could carry a movie.

So I’m not surprised to see the beginnings of … let’s say discomfort … at the casting of a British actor in the lead role of this summer’s Man of Steel. Truth, Justice, and the American Way, right? Superman lives in Metropolis, which is in or near Kansas, and you can’t get more American than that, right? Hollywood is pushing its internationalist agenda down our throats again, right?

Well, no. That’s not right. Superman is not American, he’s Kryptonian. Clark Kent is American, but he’s not the guy referred to in the title Man of Steel. Clark Kent is a disguise. Kal-El is Superman, and he wasn’t born here.

In fact, he’s an illegal immigrant.

I don’t get bent out of shape over characters not being portrayed by actors of the same nationality or race. It’s called “acting.” Look it up in the dictionary. Should only white people be cast as characters originally conceived as white people? Tell that to Jeffrey Wright. James Bond wasn’t born in Scotland, but Sean Connery was. Johnny Depp is playing Tonto, and that’s just too weird to be right or wrong.

And Kabuki? Hello – men playing all the female roles? Orson Welles cast himself in the lead role in Othello and then he cast black actors in all the other roles in Shakespeare’s ditty, and then they performed Othello in Harlem!

Acting!

The fault of extremist thinking on both sides is that people jump at the symptoms and ignore the issues. The real issue is the underrepresentation of minorities in our media, and that’s an issue that is slowly being addressed. Should we never make a Charlie Chan movie ever again because white actors had played the Hawaiian detective, most notably a performer from Sweden. But nobody complains about the current incarnation of Hawaii 5-O even though the two Hawaiian detectives in that show are played by actors of Korean descent.

Grow up and let actors act. And let’s level the casting stage. Right now.

THURSDAY: Dennis O’Neil

The latest PULPED! is now LIVE! Join Tommy Hancock and Barry Reese as they welcome award winning and well known author JOE R. LANSDALE to the show to talk about his latest book, “Edge of Dark Water”! Not only do they talk his latest book, but Joe gets into his own personal history with Pulp, including his reading it growing up all the way through his chance to work on Tarzan (finishing an actual Burroughs novel!), The Lone Ranger, Conan, Batman, Jonah Hex, and more! http://www.pulped.libsyn.com/webpage/pulped-the-official-new-pulp-podcast-joe-r-lansdale-gets-pulped–

Let me state for the record that I grew up loving the music of the Blue Öyster Cult, partly because I was the right age and partly because their lead singer, Eric Bloom, is my uncle. Therefore, I am attuned to all things BOC and am amazed I missed the release of Roadie. Now out on home video from Magnolia Entertainment, the film is a small tale about love, life, and yes, rock and roll.

The BOC was among the premiere heavy metal bands of the 1970s, thwarted from super-stardom because New York City AM radio wouldn’t play their music so they peaked. They continue to tour and play around the world with Uncle Eric and guitar wizard Buck Dharma (Donald Roseser) fronting the group. Roadie features the sad life of Jimmy Testagross (Ron Eldard), who was living his boyhood dream of working with the band but now that they play only occasionally, he’s effectively laid off. He returns home to Forest Hills, Queens for the first time in two decades and the film features that fateful day and night.

Pushing 40 with only roadie on his resume, he’s not poised to do much of anything and feels like a failure, whose widow mother (Lois Smith) still smothers him with tough love. Licking his wounds, Jimmy looks at his old room, his old neighborhood, and his old relationships. He sees the world with sad, tired eyes and comes to grips that things have changed. The first thing he notices is that his mother is not herself as the first signs of dementia are evident. Secondly, the girl of his dreams is still around although married. She’s a singer herself, but her music is folk acoustic, seemingly anathema to someone like Jimmy, but he listens with fresh ears. (more…)

A few weeks ago my dear friend Lisha invited me to a dinner party.

I hate dinner parties.

I especially hate those where I don’t know the majority of people at the table. I hate them with a passion. I’d rather sit at home alone with a bowl of Frosted Flakes watching movies than attend 99.9% of the dinner parties I’ve been invited to.

I don’t care if they are serving my three favorite foods in the world, steak, lobster or bacon.

I’d do anything for bacon, but as Meat Loaf says “I won’t do that.”

At most dinner parties it’s always the same kind of people. Boring. Boring people.

I just cannot abide people sitting around a table getting drunk and talking smack about things I just could give two cents about. I always end up in a debate with someone over something and the person who invited me in the first place always ends up apologizing for me pimp slapping someone verbally.

Case in point: the last dinner party I attended was around four years ago. If that seems like a long time it is, now consider this, I’m invited to a dinner party at least at the very least 5-10 times a month. That’s a lot of dinner parties, is to not?

The previous dinner party I went to I got into it with a woman on, of all things, being black. She thought I didn’t know how to be black.

She was a white wasp in her mid-fifties and she just could not understand why I was not supporting Obama. This was during the Democratic primary season and at the time I was a Hillary supporter. This woman could not imagine a black person who was not prepared to vote for Obama. I tried to explain to her that I supported Hillary because I thought she was a better candidate and I just wasn’t prepared to vote for Obama just because he was black.

She didn’t get it. She refused to get it. After a good 20 minutes of her telling me how ignorant I was I had had enough so I went… here… “Voting for Obama just because he’s black would be like marrying a women just because she’s a Ugly Bitch. It makes no sense to me, but clearly it made sense to your husband.”

Like I said. I went there.

She went away.

That sort of things always happens to me at dinner parties, so I simply do not go.

This occasion, I did go. I went because lovely Lisha invited me. Truth be told, I trust Lisha like I trust few people. I figured if the people there were Lisha’s friends I was in good hands…and there might be bacon!

The party started at 7:30 pm and I didn’t get to the house until 8:30. I had a few challenges finding the home and more than once I considered just going home. Home to my Frosted Flakes, movies… and bacon.

Right when I decided to go home I found the residence (guided by Lisha’s phone call) so I walked in to the Lion’s Den trusting that Lisha had not put me in the middle of a Herman Cain rally.

Guess what?

Everyone in the party was ultra cool. Well except for this one black guy who kept eyeing me… (It’s a Black Man thing; you wouldn’t understand) but discounting him these were all great people.

At the party I noticed a young lady who was breathtakingly beautiful. I mean she was stunning. She also had a great smile and there was an empty seat next to her so

I ended up sitting next to her… what???

Her name was Paige, she was beautiful, smart and she was also something that almost knocked me off my feet…

She was 14.

I was amazed that she was 14, not because she was attractive but because she was so well spoken and she was smart. I’m talking real smart.  Paige was sitting next to a woman whom at first I thought was her sister but turned out to be her mom. I knew it was her mom not because I was told but because she was giving me the “I’ve killed before and I’ll kill again” look only a mom can give when defending their children.

Paige, her mom and I hit it off pretty well mostly because they both have a sense of humor and, as most people know, I’m a funny guy.

Now here’s the kicker… Paige is not just pretty, smart and mature. She’s… wait for it… wait for it… an artist.

She’s a fantastic artist. She showed me some of her work and again, the level of sophistication to what she was showing me was wonderfully beyond her years.

Paige and I spent most of the party talking about art. She loves to draw and is going to a prestigious high school for the arts.

Paige wants to be an interior designer.

That’s a problem.

Don’t misunderstand me, Paige would be an incredible interior designer, in fact she already is. Her mom told me Paige designed their home and it looks fabulous.

The problem is I want Paige in the comic and related industries and I’m trying to figure out a way to get her interested in such. Not too long ago I wrote an article about what it takes to make it in this industry. Paige at 14 has everything I was talking about.

Did you hear me, industry? She’s 14 and more professional than some artists I’ve met who are twice her age. We need people like Paige in the industry; we want people like Paige in the industry.

Over the weekend I attended Wonder Con and caught up with my dear friend Barbara Randall Kesel. She was sitting with a few other women artists signing this incredible book from IDW called Womanthology / Heroic.

It’s a hard cover anthology featuring women artist. I brought two, one for myself and one for my girl Tatiana. The book is simply wonderful. I need to buy another one because even though the artist signed my book to me, I’m giving my copy to Paige.

If anything can cause her to take a look at comics as a career it’s this book!

Paige is going to be my guest at Comic Con. I’ll take the time to introduce her to the playa’s in the industry and hopefully she will take an interest. Who knows maybe she will decide to be a comic book creator and an interior designer? I’m sure she could do both-she’s that talented.

No idea if Paige will see this as I’m sending it to her mom first to make sure it’s OK. If you are seeing this, Paige, I hope you consider becoming a creator in an industry that is great and can use new blood like you.

If not-I want my book back and I’m spreading a rumor on Facebook that you have been in and out of jail since you were three.

Your move young lady, your move.

WEDNESDAY: Mike Gold

Kim Yale.

Kimberly Yale, as you know, was John Ostrander’s wife, and it was John’s beautiful tribute to her in his column WWKL? last week that has inspired me to write about her and our friendship.

Kim and I met over 20 years ago at a Chicago ComicCon when she chaired a Women In Comics panel to which I had been invited. I was a real newbie to the biz, wondering what the hell I was doing there, and completely awed to be meeting the real people behind the names on the splash pages of my favorite comics. So I was incredibly shy – yes, hard to believe, but completely true – when I went into the room where the panel was being held and walked up onto the dais. I didn’t know anyone…or at least, it felt like that. Although I do believe that it was Michael Davis  who had promised to come to the panel to cheer me on. Was it you, Michael?

This woman about my age with beautiful red-blonde hair and who just radiated confidence and energy came up to me and said, “Hi, I’m Kim Yale. You must be Mindy Newell. I am so happy to meet you.” I was flabbergasted. “How did you know that?” I said. “Oh, a little birdie told me,” she laughed. (Never did find out who that birdie was.) She introduced me to two of other panelists, Trina Robbins and Joyce Brabner – and they knew who I was, too! We stood talking as conventioneers started filling the room, and I started realizing that I wasn’t such an oddity after all. These were all bright, intelligent women who loved comics just as much as I did!

So the panel started, and we all introduced ourselves, and Kim, as chair, started the discussion with a question that I honestly don’t remember, but my answer was about how Supergirl – the original Supergirl – was such a powerful message for little girls growing up in the 50s, being Superman’s secret weapon and all. After the panel, Kim came over to me and said, “I absolutely loved what you said about Supergirl. I am so glad you’re in this business.”

That was the start of our friendship.

I lived in New Jersey, with the Big Apple outside my windows. Back then Kim and John lived in Chicago. Back before there were cell phones and calling plans, my phone bill zoomed up into the stratosphere with long distance calls to the Second City. I was going through some hard times, and Kim was always there for me, even when it was pushing towards the wee hours. (I’m pretty sure Kim’s bill went up, too.) When Mike Gold recruited Kim for an editor position at DC, she and John moved to Connecticut. Still long distance, but waaaay cheaper than calling Chicago. And, of course, I saw her in the office.

Some things I remember and hold close to my heart:

I was dating a guy who was going to Johnson & Wales in Rhode Island. Kim suggested that we meet at their house for a weekend – which was pretty much at the halfway point – and she and John would vamoose.

Kim and I were doing the Sex And The City thing, just two women sharing lunch and gossip and deep-down secrets at a terrific Italian restaurant a couple of blocks from DC one afternoon when all of a sudden Kim mouthed something to me. I’m a terrible lip reader and I didn’t have a clue what she was saying. “Huh?” I said. She mouthed it again. I said, “What?” again. This time as she mouthed the words, she discretely pointed her finger over my shoulder. The restaurant was loud with lunchtime clients, and I could barely hear her. This time, I said, “Kim, I can’t hear you. What are you trying to say?” Kim was exasperated; she whispered, “Tony Bennett is right there.” I said, in a very looooouud voice, “Tony Bennett!!!! Where?” Mr. Bennett turned around and said, “Right here, ladies.” I was mortified. He was laughing, and Kim was hysterical.

Kim and John sharing the Passover Seder at my parents’ house. Kim’s clear voice reading from the Hagaddah with interest and passion.

Kim calling me to tell me about some physical things that were going on with her, and the fear in her voice, and asking if she should go to the doctor.

John calling me to tell me that the doctors had discovered a second lump in Kim’s other breast while she was on the table.

Going to see Kim at Sloan-Kettering Memorial Hospital.

Kim telling me that she was going to beat this thing.

Kim looking so beautiful in her hats and scarves when she lost her hair from the chemo.

Kim at Morristown Memorial.

Sharing an intimate moment between John and Kim in the hospital a few days before….

Getting a call from John that I had better come right over.

Seeing Kim on the hospital bed set up in their living room, because she could no longer get upstairs to the bedroom.

Kim sick, wracked with pain, weak – dying – and yet still so beautiful and at peace.

John calling to tell me she was now truly at peace.

Kim’s memorial service, where I honored her by partaking in the bread and wine during the Mass. The minister understanding why I did it. The guests who knew I was Jewish completely shocked.

The spreading of her ashes in the garden under the flowers she had planted.

And in the present…

Sometimes, often, I know Kim is hanging around, keeping me company.

Kimberly Ann Yale.

A woman who ran with the wolves.

Kim.

My friend.

TUESDAY: Michael Davis

Espionage stories fall into one of two categories: thoughtful, well-plotted stories about characters forced to make difficult choices or high-tech, glossy larger-than-life adventures. Most espionage films and television have focused on the latter while the former has become a staple of modern day fiction with the acknowledged grandmaster being John le Carré. His books are difficult to adapt given the amount of plot and detail but they make for gipping reading and when brought to the screen entirely depend on the skill of the writer, director, and cast.

His best known novel is probably Tinker Tailor Solider Spy which was a wonderful miniseries starring Alec Guinness several decades back. This past holiday season, a big screen version was delivered and for the most part was overlooked by audiences. That’s a shame because as we now know, it gave Gary Oldman one of the most interesting roles of his career and brought him an Academy Award nomination for his work as George Smiley. The movie is out Tuesday on home video from Universal Home Entertainment.

The movie certainly benefitted from le Carré being a producer, but it was the skillful screenplay by Peter Straughan and the late Bridget O’Connor that boiled the novel into a digestible 2:08 movie. Director Tomas Alfredson grabbed the audience by their heads and said to them, “This requires your complete attention so focus now.” Early on, there are a series of scenes, some just seconds long that carefully build a mosaic of images and story points. We open with the resignation of Smiley and C (John Hurt), the head of MI:6, forced out in the wake of a botched mission in Budapest. Soon after, C dies from illness and Smiley is brought back in from the cold to work independently to prove whether or not a mole exists within the agency. (more…)