J. Edgar Hoover has been demonized for his many excesses and lapses during his distinguished career as director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He seemingly turned a blind eye to organized crime after Prohibition ended, focusing instead on gaining information to use as leverage against political rivals and rooting out Communism long after it stopped being a domestic threat. What few appreciate is that he was the figure to move law enforcement from a collection of theories to a disciplined, trained force that embraced forensics and dogged detective work to build cases against their suspects.

Clint Eastwood took on an examination of this complex figure in J. Edgar, a deeply flawed film that was released in the fall and is out now on disc from Warner Home Video. The movie is constantly shifting from Hoover’s early days as a fed to the 1960s and the time frame jumps proved jarring as you needed a snippet of dialogue or visual clue to figure out if it was 1932, 1963 or 1968. The screenplay, from Dustin Lance Black, bookends the man’s career but we the audience are left wondering what happened between the election of Franklin Delano Roosevelt and the presidency of John F. Kennedy. Surely, Hoover and the FBI did something of note during this era but there’s not a single clue. (more…)

* OK, here’s the deal. You can’t. You can’t succeed in comics without blood, sweat, and tears. Or, better to say, if you can, I don’t know how. I know that once you break into comics and have enough dirt on editors and top brass… you can rest on those laurels for years. Ask Jeph Loeb. I also know if you can meet deadlines, even if no one would ever say your work did more than move things from point A to point B, you can still get a steady paycheck. Ask Scott McDaniel.

I was torn here on where to go. From that lead paragraph, I had two genuine directions. One would be an uplifting tale of how Unshaven Comics is succeeding in our goals through the triumph of hard work, and slow but substantial growth via winning over one fan at a time. The other article I could write is a shallow, mean, absurdly hateful piece directed at Scott McDaniel over something he posted on his website. Given that I’ve had a pretty brutal day, I’m inclined to get petty and stupid.

Since my M.O. in these columns is to provide a little Wikipedia’ing, allow me do as such. Scott McDaniel has been a working comic book artist for many years now. Titles include Daredevil, Nightwing, Batman, The Outsiders, and most recently Static Shock. A cursory glance over those titles should tell you that no matter how much I rant and rave here, Scott has the high ground; He’s worked at DC and Marvel. I’m still years away from getting my denial letters from either of them. That being said, I have a bone to pick with the good God-fearing fellow.

For those not following along, Milestone creator John Rozum was given the reigns of Static when it debuted in DC’s big reboot. After much ballyhoo, he was shown the door (or showed himself to it, in a sense), and McDaniel took the writing gig over. John let people know (here) (and here) (and here) his thoughts on it. Scott then issued a response of his own on his site, to clarify his take on the whole issue. His response was a 41-page letter issued to the interwebs detailing literally every conversation and his opinion on the matter. 4-pages. Single spaced. 12 point font. 20,000 words. To respond to John, and the industry in general on why he still worked on the now-canceled book. And as God as my witness? It makes me want to rub my feet on the carpet for a solid day, and then give Scott a static shock to the man-globes.

The basic argument came down to editorial. Rozum’s script was obviously not the direction DC wanted Static to go in. I would think many comic creators have been in this situation too. Hell, in Unshaven Comics we’ve had knock-out fights over single panels. What it comes down to though is what line a creator is willing to cross to make ends meet. The best comics being published today (many by DC, I would attest) work well only when all parties involved are on the same page (pun intended). Even four pages into McDaniel’s magnum dope-us I could figure out where all the hullabaloo was. Rozum wanted a grim and gritty take on Static that balanced the hero stuff with real-kid problem stuff. DC wanted a family-friendly-ish romp that went “all out” to draw attention to itself. Faced with an editor asking for something he really didn’t want… he all but “phoned-it-in” to make a few paychecks, before deciding to leave the title.

Some of the best comics work on a slow-burn concept. Where it takes five or six issues to really hit home. And truth be told, I tend to love those comics. Scott Snyder employs this process immeasurably well. But is Static right for such a treatment? In a perfect world, maybe. But let’s be honest. Static is most well known to be a “fun” character. His animated show was amazingly well done (until Shaq made a guest appearance, and they made Ritchie have super-powers). I have no doubt in my mind DC wanted to tap into that energy (pun doubly intended) for the relaunch. But I digress, no need to rehash all the details. I’ll let you read through them if you want. Suffice to say, Rozum zigged when he was asked to zag. His editor (a.k.a. The Boss), pulled McDaniel into the conversation early to swing things away from Rozum’s treatment. At the end of the day, no one saw eye-to-eye, and the book was sloppy because of it.

I forced myself to read through all 41-pages of Scott’s manifesto. I simply find it to be so amazingly crass that I couldn’t help but be bothered by it. At the end of the day, McDaniel didn’t do anything wrong. He followed orders, made his editor happy, and when it was obvious DC was gonna flush the series down the toilet with the rest of the poop, they saved a few dollars by letting Scott write it. Granted, I didn’t read Static, but if McDaniel writes as well as he draws… I’ll safely assume Static got into a ton of fights, stuff blew up, and then the moved on to the next plot point. I’ve read (and own) a few books by Scott. I’ve never loved any of them. I find his work to “feel” rushed. Whether it takes him any more or less time to complete than any other working artist today… simply put, I’m not a fan. And seeing him with more credits to his name on a book exponentially makes me steer clear. Remember when I wrote about the double-edged sword of artist-writers?

But, I digress once more. The point is simple. Scott McDaniel’s retort was unneeded, uncalled for, and ultimately a waste of pixels and bandwidth. Rozum had a reason to let the world know why he left the book, and what issues he faced at DC. Scott was (and perhaps still is?) drawing a paycheck from DC. To write 20,000 words on how Rozum made it hard to make the book successful (and reading Rozum’s own words, he all but admits his heart wasn’t in it in the first place)… is needlessly rubbing salt on a self-inflicted wound. I started this piece out discussing how one can succeed in comics. I can assure you one way not to do that, is spend 41-pages lambasting a fellow creator. If you read Michael Davis’ article this week, no doubt you know why it’s things like this, that make people think we’re all backstabbers and petty grudge-holders. Scott should have taken his paycheck to the bank, cashed it, and let people think whatever they wanted to think.

As Jesus would say: Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.

SUNDAY: John Ostrander

For weeks now EXTREMELY LOUD & INCREDIBLY CLOSE has ben generating buzz among movie goers as well as touching on the emotions of anyone who was involved with 911. Long time New Yorker, Sandra Bullock, chose to be in the picture for just that reason and shares it all here. Plus HUNGER GAMES is set to blast out the box office and how a little stack of old comics made some big money this week.

PROGRAM NOTE: We will be back on TUESDAY (2/28) next week instead of Monday. Be here as we begin our exclusive of the new NBC series, AWAKE.

The Point Radio is on the air right now – 24 hours a day of pop culture fun for FREE. GO HERE and LISTEN FREE on any computer or mobile device– and please check us out on Facebook right here & toss us a “like” or follow us on Twitter @ThePointRadio.

As we gird our collective loins for another presidential election season, we become accustomed to another iteration of praise for “family values.” It is a phrase that has different meanings to people of different political persuasions. To Democrats, it means a living wage and a financial safety net for the poor, the old and the infirm. To Republicans, it means no gay marriage, no sex outside marriage, and no abortion.

For me, neither viewpoint is adequate. I strive for Superman Family values.

As a woman of a certain age, I remember a comic book series dedicated solely to the Superman family. It had stories about Superman, of course, but also Supergirl, my favorite character, and Jimmy Olsen and Lois Lane and Krypto. At 60¢ (not the standard 15¢ or 20¢), this was a big, fat comic book, good for a whole afternoon.

I learned a lot about family from those books, and not just how to get some extra change from my parents.

Superman grew up with loving, principled parents in the Kents. He lived on a farm where everyone had chores that contributed to the family fortunes. He knew he was adopted, so he knew his parents really wanted him. However, since he was Kryptonian, he had powers and abilities far beyond those of his friends and classmates. His parents taught him to value his differences, but not use them to draw attention to himself for personal gain. His gifts were best appreciated when he used then to help his community.

Years later, Superman discovered he had a teenage cousin, Supergirl. He didn’t know anything about her, yet he immediately accepted her and loved her.

When he grew up and moved on to his adult life, Superman, like the rest of us, assembled a family of sorts, of people he chose. Most of this family came from the people with whom he worked, Perry White a surrogate father, Jimmy Olsen like a little brother. Bruce Wayne was his best friend, a peer who understood what it meant to live life with secrets.

I have to believe that Superman would favor the rights of immigrants, since he is one. I have to believe that a man who has roamed the various universes and seen thousands of different societies would develop respect for people with different beliefs than his, and different ways of defining family.

As a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes, Superman had good friends who were in romantic relationships that were not only not conventionally heterosexual, but often between two different species. If this bothered him, we never saw his discomfort in the comics. He accepted his friends as they presented themselves.

Is Superman political? I have always imagined him to be a New Deal Democrat, or what the GOP today calls a “socialist.” At the same time, I don’t see him as an activist, nor even all that partisan. As Clark Kent, he votes, he serves jury duty when summoned, and he pays his taxes.

To him, family is a joy and a refuge. It isn’t something for politicians to use to bludgeon each other and score points.

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

The shift to filming in glorious 35mm has opened new doors of creative storytelling for the crew of MERLIN, and the evidence is clear in the lush cinematography and haunting approach to “Lamia,” an all-new episode MERLIN premiering Friday, February 24, at 10 p.m. ET/PT only on Syfy.

The episode sets Merlin and several Knights of the Round Table on the road to a distant village to help treat those inflicted with a mysterious illness – but the young warlock quickly discovers he is the one in danger. As the Knights become increasingly bewitched by an alluring young woman named Lamia, Merlin finds himself with only Gwen as an ally as he’s lured into a game of cat and mouse against an unseen enemy more deadly than he could possibly imagine. (more…)

The Great American Cereal Book: How Breakfast got its Crunch
By Marty Gitlin and Topher Ellis
Abrams Image. Hardcover. 368 pages. $19.95

Come breakfast time, my kitchen cabinet holds a limited, and boring, offering of ready-to-eat cereals; just some Kellogg’s Raisin Bran and a box of Honey-Nut Cheerios. In my mid-fifties, breakfast cereal no longer holds any importance in my life. To tell the truth, if I’m going to have cereal, I would much rather sit down with a bowl of Quaker Oatmeal and leave the cold, crunchy stuff for when I’m feeling especially lazy.

But, as The Great American Cereal Book: How Breakfast Got Its Crunch reminds me, once upon a time, in that galaxy far, far away of childhood, breakfast cereal was important. Very important. The Golden Age of comic books, as someone once observed, is eleven years old. That is, whatever it is we’re exposed to as children is what we hold in our memories and imaginations as the best ever of that particular thing. What’s true for comic books is also true for breakfast cereals and, as it turns out, not only do co-author Marty Gitlin and I have a Golden Age of breakfast cereals in common, but that shared mid-1960s era of cereal seriousness came at a time when the breakfast cereal business was in fact booming thanks, in large part, to Saturday morning cartoons. (more…)

Well, you know that I wasn’t going to allow Haywire to escape from my local monsterplex without giving it a look. A guy who’s written about Lady Shiva and Black Canary, not to mention a somewhat wimpified Wonder Woman who used martial arts in lieu of genuine superpowers – this guy was about to let pass a movie starring one Gina Carano who, in addition to being gorgeous, has real-life ass-kicker credentials, a film directed by one of the most interesting gents in movieland? No siree!

For reasons that I suspect are exempt from rationality, I have always responded to movie swashbucklers who can actually do the stuff they’re pretending to do – in the case of the excellent Jackie Chan, actually doing it for the camera. So, either in theaters or in my domicile, I’ve watched flicks starring Jackie, Bruce Lee, and, descending to the region of lesser lights, Cynthia Rockrock, Olivier Gruner, Jean Claude Van Damme, Don Wilson, Steven Seagal and maybe one or two I’ve forgotten.

Not everything featuring these performers was a cinematic masterpiece, but I watched and, dammit, I will continue to watch, at least as long as Blockbuster is willing to rent me discs.

The conflation of fiction and biography isn’t new – far from it. Davy Crockett and Wild Bill Hickok were featured in the pulpy dime novels of the 19^th century in yarns that may have been…just a tad exaggerated, maybe. Hickok starred in a stage drama about a frontiersman who may have had more than a passing resemblance to Wild Bill himself before dying of a gunshot while playing poker, and Buffalo Bill Cody, animal hunter turned showman, had a vastly successful “wild west show” with cowboys and Indians and stage coaches and lots of horses. (Even a cow or two?)

Going way, way back – even Alexander the Great was pulpified in extravagant adventures written about someone with his name and general background who didn’t otherwise resemble the great conqueror. (My source doesn’t specify how these stories were disseminated: read aloud down at the agora while the hearties knocked back the fermented honey or whatever was in the barrel in far-past days of yore?)

So what’s the appeal of these mashups of fable and fact? I offer two possible reasons.

First reason: In the cases of Chan, Lee, et. al., it might be a twin to the pleasure we get from watching dance because dance is what a well-choreographed movie fight is. (And I do wish that Hollywood folk would become aware of this.) The human body doing the extraordinary – the reason we watch the Olympics and a lot of televised sports.

And the second reason: we need heroes and maybe knowing that there’s something authentic in screen portrayals helps, just a tiny bit, in our willing suspension of disbelief.

Haywire? Oh yeah, Haywire, with Gina Carano. Did I mention that it was directed by the protean Steven Soderbergh and that I thought it was pretty good?

FRIDAY: Martha Thomases