Tagged: Lone Ranger

Mike Gold: Polishing Icons

lone-rangergreen-hornet-1-6492065There was a time when it was generally perceived that iconic heroic fantasy characters such as The Lone Ranger, The Green Hornet, The Shadow and Buck Rogers were so popular for so long that they would be around forever. I think of that whenever somebody alleges Superman and Spider-Man will be around forever. Times change, as do our cultural predilections and venues.

Nonetheless, those heroes have become part of our cultural fabric. Most Americans (at least) who have neither read, seen, nor heard the adventures of these characters have heard their names and have some vague idea of their modus operandi. Just as DC Entertainment has kept Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman “alive” through their comic books while merchandisers and movie producers such as Michael Uslan could enhance their visibility through their more profitable endeavors.

Right now all of the retired heroic fantasy characters I mentioned above are being kept alive by our friends at Dynamite Entertainment, along with such other icons as John Carter, Vampirella, Flash Gordon, and Zorro. I can’t say I’ve read all of these comics as, sadly, I must take time out for eating, sleeping, and the time-consuming effort of trying to catch up with my TiVo. But I have a thing for iconic characters so I’ve read a whole lot of them, most recently the just-completed five-part Lone Ranger / Green Hornet crossover.

This series takes the opportunity to flesh in one of the most interesting concepts in American heroic fantasy. The Lone Ranger was created in 1933 at Detroit radio station WXYZ (Detroit) radio station by station owner George W. Trendle and/or staff writer Fran Striker, accounts differ. A half-dozen Texas Rangers were ambushed by the Butch Cavendish gang, who slaughtered five of the group and were under the impression they killed all six. The Ranger-in-charge, Captain Daniel Reid, was killed but his brother John (a retconned first name) survived and he took upon himself the name and identity of The Lone Ranger.

lone-rangergreen-hornet-2-4867495The radio show was so successful that Trendle launched a contemporary themed character named The Green Hornet. It was a modern-time version of The Lone Ranger in all respects: John’s horse Silver was replaced by a car called the Black Beauty, sidekick Tonto was replaced by sidekick Kato, and masked man John Reid was replaced by masked man Britt Reid.

You might have noticed a similarity there. Britt Reid was the grandson of Captain Dan Reid, which means he was John Reid’s grandnephew. Explained in a trio of radio programs after World War II, this was a truly rare and exciting continuity event for its time.

If you do the math and you keep the Green Hornet in his original milieu, it is possible that a rather healthy John Reid could have met his grandnephew and, within a stretch of reason, could have teamed up with his younger relative.

Or so thought comics writer Michael Uslan, who I already noted is a movie producer. He happens to a producer of all the Batman films made over the several decades. But Michael started out (so to speak) as a comic book writer, and has repeatedly proven himself to be one of the best. Our loss has been the movie industry’s gain, and somebody at Marvel Studios owes him one hell of a nice meal.

Michael remains a geek culture expert and a historian, so taking on the Lone Ranger and the Green Hornet allows him the opportunity to dive deep into the waters of comics continuity as well as American history. As he has in past projects, Michael explains the historical links in the back of each issue. I’ve been trying to catch him in a mistake for a long, long time. It’s futile, but I can’t help it. I share his love of American cultural history, and I admire his work.

It’s fun to read this ultimate “What If” story. Artist Giovanni Timpano is certainly worthy of the effort; drawing them horses in the big city landscape ain’t easy. The five-part Lone Ranger / Green Hornet crossover is a good solid comic book story, even for those who could care less about the iconic status of its stars.

But if you do care, it’s even better.

Dennis O’Neil: The Boys Who Film Batman

Boy Who Loved BatmanMessrs. Pisani and Uslan, step into the spotlight, center stage and take a bow!

But before we deliver the plaudits, we should perhaps tell you who they are. Of course most of you already know, but there are always a few… well, I don’t want to call them “retards” because that is not politically correct and a crummy thing to say besides, so let’s just identify them as folk who choose not to mingle either physically or intellectually (by acquiring new information) and thus may not be acquainted with the existence of the gentlemen named above.

Mike Uslan is the possessor of the world’s only doctorate in comics, He is a professor at his alma mater, Indiana University, the recipient of a Daytime Emmy, a writer who once worked at DC Comics and he has a producer credit on every Batman movie released since 1989. (For more information, see Mike’s autobiography, The Boy Who Loved Batman, available from Amazon and other book stores.) Trust me – I could go on.

I don’t know exactly how to identify Ken Pisani. I met him a decade or so ago when Marifran, a camera guy, and sound guy and I joined him on a cavernous sound stage in lower Manhattan. The occasion was Ken’s interviewing me for a History Channel documentary on comics. The interview was extraordinarily good and Ken and his lovely wife Amanda have been friends ever since. I’d like to see Ken’s resume because I’m pretty sure he’s done a lot I’m not aware of – he does keep busy being a TV producer, a comic book writer/creator, a screenwriter, a novelist, an art director, a cartoonist…once upon a time, he even worked for Phil Seuling, the man who virtually invented the comic book direct sales market. Amanda knows the full catalog of Ken’s accomplishments. I, alas, do not.

Anyway, that’s Mike and Ken, and I hope they’re taking that bow.

The reason I mention them now is that Ken recently sent me some DVDs from a TV series that ran on Turner’s movie channel. The subject under discussion was the relationship of comic book to early movie serials. The format was the master of ceremonies talking with the comics expert who was – aw, you guessed it – our own Mike Uslan. After a few minutes informative conversation the MC screened two chapters of the serial we’d just heard Mike commenting on. The shows were educational and entertaining – more feathers for the Uslan cap – and they may have taught us comics geeks stuff that we didn’t know. This kind of historical background may not help us do stories, us creator types – I really haven’t decided about that – but it’s kind of nifty to know it.

By the way, in case you’re really out of touch… movie serials were short films shown with main features telling a story over 12 to 15 chapters, each chapter ending with the hero or other good guy in some kind in some kind of horrible quandary. The idea was, you’d return the following week to see how the hero escapes the quandary. Theoretically, you could return to see the hero squashed like a bug, but I don’t think that ever happened. At least, Mike didn’t mention it.

(Editor’s Addendum: Mr. Uslan has been back at writing comics every once in a while, and once again has given us some of the best stuff on the racks. His six-part Lone Ranger / Green Hornet series will be released by Dynamite Comics in July.)

John Ostrander: Walking Tall On the Small Screen

I was not always a big fan of Westerns. My knowledge/memory of them were largely drawn from TV shows of my childhood – and not always the best ones. They were dominated by The Lone Ranger, Roy Rogers, Gene Autry (although I was never a big Autry fan) and shows like them. Westerns dominated TV in those days in ways that I don’t think any genre dominates any more.

It was my late wife, Kimberly Yale, who really schooled me in movie Westerns and the difference between a John Ford Western, ones by Howard Hawks, and Budd Boetticher’s Westerns. I finally learned and grasped what powerful movies they were, Just a few years ago, I got to see John Ford’s masterpiece The Searchers on the big screen and it was only then that I really understood how powerful it was and why its star, John Wayne, was such an icon. In the close-ups, where Wayne’s face is two stories high, he seems like a figure off Mount Rushmore. And the famous final shot, where his character is framed by a closing door, is haunting. It’s also interesting to note that both here and in Howard Hawks’ Red River he plays something of a bastard.

It’s only been in recent years that I’ve returned to some of the Western TV shows and rediscovered them. What I discovered was some very good writing and acting, especially in the half hour shows. Have Gun, Will Travel, starring Richard Boone, featured him as a traveling gunslinger, Paladin, and a memorable and haunting title song. Wanted: Dead or Alive starred a young Steve McQueen right around the time that he broke out in films in The Magnificent Seven.

Of all of them, my favorite discovery has been The Rifleman starring Chuck Connors. Connors was a 6’6” former athlete, playing basketball for the Celtics and baseball for the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Chicago Cubs. In the show he played Lucas McCain, a homesteader who was fast with a special rapid fire Winchester. McCain was a widower although he had a son, played by Johnny Crawford. His best friend was the Marshall of the town of North Fork, Micah Torrance, played by Paul Fix. (Trivia note: Mary and I so liked the name “Micah” that we gave it to one of our cats.)

The show was also a proving ground for actors, writers, and directors who would later go on to other things. Sam Peckinpah directed several episodes and wrote a few, too. Budd Boetticher directed an episode, as did Ida Lupino. Richard Donner, who would later direct the first Superman movie with Christopher Reeve, directed seven episodes.

A number of famous (or to be famous later) actors also appeared – Agnes Moorehead did a turn, as did Martin Landau, Buddy Hackett, and Harry Dean Stanton. Sammy David Jr. acted in the series twice, once as a gunslinger. There was a time that I would have questioned the probability of that but my later researches into the history of the West revealed that there were a number of black gunslingers in the Wild West.

Connors was a better actor than I remembered and the stories were varied and almost always interesting. His Lucas McCain was a stern father but a loving one and usually reluctant to be drawn into a fight. The stories weren’t the simple good/bad confrontations I knew from shows like Roy Rogers. The characters were more complex which made the stories more interesting.

You can catch the shows on DVD and I would guess on Netflix or Hulu. They’re worth a shot. So to speak.

 

The Law Is A Ass

Bob Ingersoll: The Law Is A Ass #329: THE LONE RANGER RAINS IN THE LYNCH MOB

tumblr_mvv6jfObOq1ssmbizo1_500The answer to the legal question posed in The Lone Ranger v 2 # 22 is: I don’t know, either.

There, that was short and sweet. I answered the question, so we can all move on to other things. Me, I’ve got Baseball playoff games to watch. And you…

And you, you’re not satisfied.

Okay, guess it’s time to make a short story long.

The Lone Ranger v 2 # 22 “Rainmaker.” It started in 1870 in a “rural town at the edge of what would become the Oklahoma Territory.” Actually, it started quite a bit earlier. It started whenever the drought started; however many weeks, months, or years that was. The drought which turned the earth dry, killing the crops and the cattle of this rural town alike.

It started because the good people of this rural town were so desperate for the saving rain that they paid an elderly Indian woman who claimed to be a rainmaker a small fortune in gold. She promised that, if paid, she would do a rain dance and it would rain. They paid. She danced.

It didn’t rain.

Not that day. Not the next. Or the day after.

Eight days later the town didn’t love her. It still hadn’t rained and the people were up in arms, although for a western town in 1870, surprisingly few of them were armed. The townspeople believed they had been cheated, swindled, their money stolen by a fraud. They tracked the old rainmaker down, brought her back to town, and were getting set to lynch her.

That’s when the Lone Ranger and Tonto stepped in. Or rode in. When the third most important character in your series is, “a fiery horse with the speed of light,” named Silver, you don’t step into a story. You ride.

The Ranger stopped the lynching and then he, Tonto, and the local sheriff took the old woman off to the local jail. Because where else is the local sheriff going to take her? Sing Sing was out of his local jurisdiction. Alcatraz was still a military prison in 1870. And Shawshank was, well take your pick; not built yet, in Maine, or entirely fictitious.

The Lone Ranger and the Sheriff talked about the situation and basically spend pages six, through eight telling each other and the readers the same stuff that they and we had already learned in pages one through five. The town paid the woman money for a dance guaranteed to bring rain and it didn’t rain. (See, I can do it, too.) The Ranger asked, “Sheriff has a law been broken?” and the Sheriff answered, “Well … hell I don’t know.”

And, as I said back when I was trying to make this column like a stack of two pancakes – short and sweet – neither do I.

Why don’t I know? Because I have no idea what laws existed in some rural town at the edge of what would become the Oklahoma Territory back in 1870, that’s why. Can I conjecture? Sure, I can take the fairly standard elements of criminal fraud as they exist today, pretend that whatever law existed back in 1870 was similar, and go from there. It won’t do any good, but I can do it.

Still, as I’ve already blown my hope of making this my shortest column ever, I might as well. Just be warned, it won’t do any good.

Criminal fraud consists of five basic elements. They are that a person 1) made a false statement of a material fact, 2) knowing that the statement was untrue, 3) with the intent to deceive the victim, 4) into relying on the false statement, 5) resulting in some injury – physical or financial – to the victim. Some of the elements are easy to deal with. So let’s deal with them easily.

The townspeople did rely on the rainmaker’s promises of rain and they paid her money to dance and produce rain. So far it hadn’t rained. Those would satisfy elements four and five, reliance and injury. If elements one, two, and three were also met, we’d have a criminal fraud. So were elements one, two, and three met? I don’t know. That’s why my applying the elements of the present day crime of criminal fraud to our story won’t help. I have no idea about those first three elements.

Oh, we know the old woman made a statement of a material fact. She said if she were paid she would dance and it would rain. But in order for it to be criminal fraud, it would have to be a false statement. And the rainmaker would have to know it was a false statement.

Let’s suppose, for example, your buddy Bernie  made off with some other peoples’ money – a boatload of money; hell, an Exxon Valdez load of money — in a fraudulent Ponzi scheme. Bernie was promising huge monetary returns, if people gave him their money to invest for them then pocketing much of it. Now I know we’re not supposed to suppose, but let’s further suppose that you honestly believed what Bernie was telling people was true and you convinced new investors to join Bernie’s wealth management fund by repeating Bernie’s material misrepresentations. In that case, would you be guilty of fraud making false statements that bilked people of their money?

No.

You may have made false statements, but you did not commit criminal fraud, because you believed the statements were true. To be guilty of criminal fraud, a person must make the false statements while knowing that they’re false. If the person mistakenly believes the statements are true, even though they’re false, then the person has not committed criminal fraud. Oh the person may have committed some tortuous negligence, but not criminal fraud.

Which brings us back to our story. Did the old woman knowingly make a false statement? Did she know her dance would not produce rain and was hoping she could get away before the town realized that soon it wasn’t going to rain? If so, then she made a false statement. If, however, she honestly believed her dance would produce rain, then she did not knowingly make a false statement and she didn’t commit criminal fraud.

So which kind of statement did she make? I don’t know. The story didn’t give us this information.

I do know this, later that night – eight and one-half days after the rainmaker danced her dance – it rained. The townspeople were satisfied and let the old woman leave with her life. And her money. So was she a fraud who just happened to luck out when it actually rained? Or was she a mystic of some kind, a rain king who hoofed like Ann Reinking and called the water out of the sky?

Like I said, I don’t know.

Which, I suppose, is a good thing. People call me a know-it-all. A lot. But now I have formal and printed proof that I ain’t.

Dennis O’Neil: The Obese Lone Ranger

oneil-art-130711-6274068I’m hungry. Gimme a plate. No, a bigger one. Bigger. Bigger! Big as a house, a stadium. Now, lemme eat. Eggs and cheese and pork chops and ice cream and popsicles and pickles and brownies and doughnuts and cake and candy and pies and french fries and hot dogs and hamburgers and cinnamon rolls and marshmallows jelly beans and and and…whatever else you got. Gimme!

urp

…don’t feel so good…

And there he goes galloping off into financial ignominy. We, of course, refer to The Lone Ranger and our first paragraph was what we English majors call a “metaphor” – a very bloated metaphor – for what we think is mainly wrong with the much maligned entertainment of the same name.

It got greedy. It wanted too much.

It wanted to be an action blockbuster and a cowboy picture and a kiddie picture and a comedy and a tale of mythic heroism and a satire and, by making the title character a well-meaning doofus with a cruel streak and his Comanche sidekick the real hero, it wanted to acknowledge the shabby treatment Native Americans have often gotten from our popular culture. Go ahead – try to get all that into one movie, even a long one,

Pertinent digression: Back in the sixties, I read work by a journalist named Gene Marine who used the term “engineering mentality,” by which he meant the conviction that if we can build something, we should build it and piffle on the consequences. So we can put up this dam and let’s not bother ourselves with the fact that there may be other, cheaper ways to accomplish whatever this dam is supposed to accomplish without disrupting the environment for miles in every direction. Give a fella a huge budget and by golly he’ll do something with it.

The Lone Ranger had a huge budget.

It might have benefitted from a smaller one. With less money to spend, the film makers might have been forced to decide on exactly which movie they wanted to make and focused plot and action accordingly. Less might have been more.

urp

A final item for all you conspiracy mavens out there: in the embryonic continuity that The Lone Ranger’s creators were devising way back in the 1930s and 40s, probably with no idea that they were doing so, the Lone Ranger had a descendant, Britt Reid, who rode a big car (instead of a big horse) and had an Asian sidekick (instead of Comanche sidekick) and wore a mask and, yes, fought crime. Now: a couple of years ago there was a Green Hornet movie in which the white dude is the klutz and his non-white partner is the real ass-kicker.

One of the Hornet movie’s production team said there wouldn’t be a sequel because of a disappointing ticket sales and the news media are full of the woeful information that The Lone Ranger bombed big time at the box office. Coincidence? You decide.

And one other thing: urp

THURSDAY AFTERNOON: Martin Pasko

FRIDAY MORNING: Martha Thomases

 

Dennis O’Neil: Much Ado About Iron Man

Iron-Man-II-Tony-StarkMaybe you’ve been on a vision quest in the Himalayas, or maybe you’ve just been in a coma, so I’ll try too negotiate the next few hundred words without dropping any spoilers. The subject is the movie that looks like it will be the summer’s monster, Iron Man 3, and by now, most of you have seen it, or are planning to see it, or have at least read reviews. As a lowly scribe who once wrote the Iron Man comic book – yes, kids, it was a comic book first – I might be expected to have an opinion about it and I do. But I did promise no spoilers and to state what I liked about it would probably constitute a spoiler…

What’s a fellow to do?

Go at the problem from another angle? Okay: What I did not like about the movie was all the kabooms. Lots and lots of fireworks. Big explosions. Then more big explosions. Hey, no elitism here: I understand the entertainment value of pyrotechnics and to complain about explosions in a film designed to be a summer blockbuster is kind of like attending the opera and bitching about all the screechy singing. But maybe a little moderation? I wearied of all the noise and shrapnel and flame coming at my 3D glasses. Enough was enough. Less might have been more. Anything stuffed down your throat will eventually make you gag.

There you have my major kvetch: the explosions.

I guess I could complain that the villain’s motivations could have been more thoroughly explained, but you might not agree. And if we got rid of a few explosions, the movie would have been been a tad shorter and that might have benefitted it. But none of this constitutes major inadequacy. You pay for your ticket and you get what you paid for, that special kind of summer respite that only happens in cool theaters on hot days. It has been significant pleasure in my life for some 40 years and it still is. (You think I’m not going to see The Man of Steel and The Wolverine and even The Lone Ranger when they grace the multiplex in a month or two? Ha!)

But superhero movies are maturing, as did westerns and badge operas and science fiction before them. While still delivering the spectacle and fantastic heroics that characterize the genre, they’re being put to other uses, too. They’re telling the kind of stories that help us define ourselves, which is something stories have always done. First, there was The Batman trilogy, which was, beneath all the swashbuckling, a tale of redemption.  Now, we have the Iron Man movies, which, if you squint a little, also constitute a trilogy and use the character of Tony Stark to…

Whoa! I promised no spoilers. So, if you haven’t already seen it, watch for the scene in which Tony mentions a cocoon and the shot of Tony standing on a cliff. They’ll tell you what I think the movie is really about.

FRIDAY: Martha Thomases

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

 

Dennis O’Neil, Cowboy Poet

O'Neil Art 130221Cowboys who gallop and ride

Know how to take things in stride

They always have their pride

Cowboys who gallop and ride

Atrocious! Add your own melody and hold your nose.

I made up that ditty, or one close to it, years ago and I don’t know why. (To provide a contrast to good verse? To avoid thinking about something I should have been thinking about?) Shrug.

But it’s in my head today, maybe, is because last night on what we refer to around here as “the cowboy channel” had a “six gun salute” to Tim Holt, who was one of my favorite actors when I was six or seven. Five old movies: I watched two and recorded the other three for watching late at night when I’m not ready for the trek to the bedroom but should be. He was a favorite of my childhood, was ol’ Tim, and he had credits beyond the many B westerns he acted in, including roles in The Treasure of Sierra Madre and The Magnificent Ambersons. Looking at him on a television screen last night, I think I grasped the reason the snotnosed version of myself liked him: he seemed nice.

But is this not a column appearing in a site devoted to comic books? So why am I blathering on about old old oaters?

I offer two reasons.

First reason: there is a connection between comics and Mr. Holt. He had his own comics title that ran in the late 40s and earl 50s. In issue #20, he began wearing a red mask and calling himself – wait for it – the Red Mask. Eventually, the Red Mask took over the title and the Tim Holt persona quietly retired. (Did the Red Mask meet up with the Lone Ranger, the Durango Kid, and the Two-Gun Kid and did they mosey on into town and drink sarsaparilla and talk about keeping masks purty and the finer points of shooting hog legs from the hands of owlhoots? Reckon we’ll never know.) If I were in a folksy mood I might say that Tim was let out to pasture, but, despite the previous sentence, I’m not feeling particularly folksy and besides, that wouldn’t be true. Which brings us to…

Second reason: Tim Holt the actor (as opposed to Tim the character) didn’t exactly go out to pasture and there was a connection between Mr. Holt and a friend of mine, the late and beloved Archie Goodwin. Those of you who have entered our world recently may not know that Archie was an excellent comics editor and writer and an incredibly nice guy. Archie once told me that, after his movie career, Tim Holt relocated to Oklahoma where he managed a radio station and knew Archie’s father. Who knew?

A final note: What I call the cowboy channel is really the Encore Westerns channel. For me, checking into it once in a while is a mini-nostalgia trip, a backward glimpse into times, places and attitudes that no longer exist. For you young’uns…I don’t know–maybe you’ll see a connection between what are sometimes called “horse operas” and what are often known as “space operas” and maybe you’ll find that interesting.

FRIDAY: Martha Thomases

SATURDAY: Marc Alan Fishman

 

HOWARD HOPKINS’ LONE RANGER RIDES AGAIN AT IPULP

  • News
  • November 7, 2012
lonerangervendettacover1-8961366
Cover Art: Douglas Klauba

IPulp Fiction has released the ebook version of Moonstone’s novel by the late New Pulp author, Howard Hopkins, The Lone Ranger: Vendetta.

From out of the past comes a mysterious killer systematically murdering anyone with a connection to the Masked Rider of the Plains former identity. When all signs point to Butch Cavendish, a man long dead, The Ranger finds himself trapped in a deadly game of cat and mouse with the life of his faithful Indian companion hanging in the balance.

Learn more about iPulp Fiction at www.iPulpFiction.com.
Learn more about Moonstone Books at www.moonstonebooks.com.

Also, look for more great tales from Moonstone Books at iPulp Fiction.

Production Finally Begins on Disney’s The Lone Ranger

lone-ranger_clayton-moore-mask1-300x178-1762115BURBANK, Calif. (February 28, 2012) — Production has commenced on location in New Mexico, Arizona, Utah and Colorado on Disney and Jerry Bruckheimer Films’ epic adventure “The Lone Ranger.” The film reunites the filmmaking team of the first three “Pirates of the Caribbean” blockbusters—producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Gore Verbinski—with Johnny Depp, who created Captain Jack Sparrow in his iconic, Academy Award®-nominated performance and contributed the voice of the title character of Verbinski’s Academy Award-winning “Rango.”

Depp plays spirit warrior Tonto in “The Lone Ranger,” with Armie Hammer (“The Social Network,” “J. Edgar”) starring in the title role. Depp and Hammer are joined by a prestigious international cast which includes Tom Wilkinson, two-time Academy Award nominee (“Michael Clayton,” “In the Bedroom”) and Golden Globe® and Emmy® winner (“John Adams”); William Fichtner (Jerry Bruckheimer’s productions of “Armageddon,” “Pearl Harbor” and “Black Hawk Down”); Emmy Award-winner Barry Pepper (TV’s “The Kennedys,” “True Grit,” “Saving Private Ryan”); James Badge Dale (“The Grey,” TV’s “The Pacific” and “Rubicon”); Ruth Wilson (television’s “Jane Eyre” and “Luther”); and two-time Academy Award nominee and six-time Golden Globe nominee Helena Bonham Carter (“The King’s Speech,” “Alice in Wonderland”). The film is slated to open on May 31, 2013.

disney-logo-300x72-7170628“The Lone Ranger” is a thrilling adventure infused with action and humor, in which the famed masked hero is brought to life through new eyes. Native American spirit warrior Tonto (Johnny Depp) recounts the untold tales that transformed John Reid (Armie Hammer), a man of the law, into a legend of justice—taking the audience on a runaway train of epic surprises and humorous friction as the two unlikely heroes must learn to work together and fight against greed and corruption.

“The Lone Ranger” is written by Ted Elliott & Terry Rossio of “Pirates of the Caribbean,” Eric Aronson and Justin Haythe. The executive producers are Mike Stenson, Chad Oman, Ted Elliott, Terry Rossio, Eric Ellenbogen and Eric McLeod.

Jerry Bruckheimer and Gore Verbinski are joined by a remarkable team of behind-the-scenes artists, including director of photography Bojan Bazelli (Verbinski’s “The Ring,” “Mr. and Mrs. Smith”); visual consultant Mark “Crash” McCreery (production designer of Verbinski’s “Rango); costume designer Penny Rose (“Pirates of the Caribbean” films); film editor James Haygood (“Panic Room,” “Fight Club”); visual effects supervisor Tim Alexander (“Rango,” three “Harry Potter” films); Academy Award®-winning special effects supervisor John Frazier, a 10-time nominee whose previous collaborations with Jerry Bruckheimer have included “Armageddon,” “Pearl Harbor” and, with Verbinski as well, “Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End”; and stunt coordinator Tommy Harper (“Iron Man,” “Iron Man 2”).

Academy Award®-winning filmmaker Gore Verbinski has enjoyed tremendous box office success as the innovative director of both character-driven franchises and thoughtful genre-bending fare.  Most recently, Verbinski released his first animated film, the smash hit “Rango,” starring Johnny Depp. Grossing over $240 million worldwide, the film won the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature Film, as well as BAFTA and Annie awards, and received Golden Globe® and PGA nominations. Verbinski previously helmed the hit franchise “Pirates of the Caribbean,” directing the first three films starring Johnny Depp and Keira Knightley. The films have collectively grossed nearly $3 billion worldwide since release. He made his directorial debut with “Mouse Hunt,” starring Nathan Lane, followed by the road movie “The Mexican,” starring Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt and James Gandolfini. He also directed the smash horror film “The Ring,” starring Naomi Watts.

Verbinski is also a successful award-winning commercial director, having been honored with four Clio Awards and a Cannes Silver Lion Award for his work on an assortment of memorable advertising spots. In addition, he directed music videos for bands including Bad Religion and Crystal Method.

First in partnership with Don Simpson, and then as the chief of Jerry Bruckheimer Films, Bruckheimer has produced an unprecedented string of worldwide smashes, impacting not only the industry, but mass culture as well. Bruckheimer’s films include (producing with Don Simpson) “Top Gun,” “Beverly Hills Cop,” “Beverly Hills Cop 2,” “American Gigolo,” “Flashdance,” “Bad Boys,” “Dangerous Minds,” “Crimson Tide,” “The Rock,” and (producing solo) “Con Air,” “Armageddon,” “Enemy of the State,” “Gone in 60 Seconds,” “Coyote Ugly,” “Remember the Titans,” “Pearl Harbor,” “Black Hawk Down,” “Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl,” “Bad Boys II,” “Veronica Guerin,” “King Arthur,” “National Treasure,” “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest,” “Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End,” “National Treasure: Book of Secrets” and the 2011 blockbuster “Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides.”

On television, Bruckheimer had an unprecedented 10 television series airing in the 2005-6 season, a record in the medium for an individual producer. JBTV’s series include “C.S.I.: Crime Scene Investigation” and its spinoffs “C.S.I.: Miami,” “C.S.I.: NY” and “Without a Trace,” “Cold Case” and the eight-time Emmy® Award-winner “The Amazing Race.”

Jerry Bruckheimer Films and Television have been honored with 41 Academy Award® nominations, six wins, eight GRAMMY® Award nominations, five wins, 23 Golden Globe® nominations, four wins, 105 Emmy® Award nominations, 21 wins, 30 People’s Choice nominations, 15 wins, numerous MTV Awards, including one for Best Picture of the Decade for “Beverly Hills Cop.”

“The Lone Ranger” will film exteriors and studio work in New Mexico, followed by locations in Arizona, Utah and Colorado.

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GUEST COLUMN-WHIMSY IS ALIVE AND WELL IN PULP!

We are all serious about our Pulp, be we writers, artists, publishers, or fans.  The goal of ALL PULP is to make sure you as a reader have all the insight and news we can provide you about All Things Pulp!  That includes, although not frequently, whimsy.  Yes, whimsy can exist within the stark black and white right and wrong world of Pulp.  And the best whimsy of all is that which brings Pulp authors and Pulp style to the forefront.  Enjoy the following whimsical, yet extremely valid Pulp post, wont you?

FROM DOC HERMES via DERRICK FERGUSON
http://dochermes.livejournal.com/157023.html
I posted this a few years ago, when I was plowing through pulp stories as if they were going to be taken away any minute. Finishing a Nero Wolfe story right after a Solomon Kane one gave me a whimsical idea.

These are fun to write, please feel free to add a few.

WHAT IF… Robert E Howard wrote a Nero Wolfe mystery?

It was ten o’clock on a dreary winter morning, and as Wolfe lowered his immense bulk behind his desk and rang for the first of his unending series of beers, I couldn’t take it any longer. “Another exciting day, I suppose. It’s fine for you. You’ve got those filthy orchids and pouring beer into your gut while you pretend to read some 700 page book on Hungarian politics. But what about me?”

Wolfe raised one eyebrow, which for him was a dramatic reaction and I exploded, venting all my long pent up rage. “I’m not a bloated product of civilization!” I snapped. “I’m six feet of lean muscle and rawhide, wide shouldered and narrow hipped. I burn to smash my fist into Inspector Cramers sneering mug, feeling his teeth splinter under my knuckles. By God, Im tempted to go down to Centre Street and litter that place with bleeding cops.”

“Archie, cease this flummery,” Wolfe said with that insufferable smugness that made a red haze of fury pass over my eyes. “Have you been reading those so-callled pulp magazines again? Every month when WEIRD TALES comes out, it has a deleterious effect on your demeanor.”

“Well, what of it!” I roared, leaping up with the speed of a starving panther. “When are we going to get a case where I can sink my blade deep in my enemys heart and carry off some buxom wench? A case with the stolen eye from some heathen idol or a death cult of slant eyed killers? I'm sick of these sissy cases where only one person gets killed!" Beneath my heavy black brows, my volcanic blue eyes burned hotly. <br><br>"Pfui," said Wolfe, marking his place with a bookmarker. "First, Archie, I must remind you that your eyes are dark brown and you are not Irish on either side. As we have discussed before, you are English and Dutch, with some Cherokee on your paternal grandmother's side. This Celtomania is fatuous, coming from a man who resembles Humphrey Bogart." <br><br>I barely restrained myself from pouncing upon him in a blur of savage motion. That accursed paycheck held my hand. <br><br>"Furthermore," Wolfe went on as calmly as if I were not poised to leap at him, my iron fists clenched, "Fritz is preparing lamb kidneys with dumplings, and blueberry tarts for lunch and you wouldnt want to miss that.”

He had me there. Fritz made dumplings with chopped beef marrow, duck eggs and lemon rind. I could easily keep up with Wolfe as far as dumplings went. And faint vapors of the blueberry variety were teasingly drifting into the office.

“Fine”, I gave in with ill grace, and returned to my desk where my copy of WEIRD TALES sat. Wolfe glanced at me and snorted almost inaudibly. “I should be grateful, I suppose, that you don’t read THE SPIDER”, he muttered.

_____________________
WHAT IF… Don Pendleton Wrote a Nancy Drew Story?

Stepping away from her sporty red roadster with its running boards and rumble seat, Nancy felt the breeze stir her golden hair. Yeah, it was a good day to be sixteen and a little princess. It was just too darn bad that for Carmine it would be his last day on Gods earth. <br><br>She had parked high on the hill overlooking Makeout Point, where teenagers had been parking under the summer moon for years. Nancy remembered that moon and her face flushed red as she gazed coldly down at the figure waiting for her below. <br><br>How had she ever thought that Carmine Salvucci could help her in her solving of mysteries? And what was an Italian family doing in Bayport anyway? Nancys lovely eyes narrowed into slits as she saw Carmine leaning against the fender of his own jalopy, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Enjoy it, she thought, you darned little ruffian.

For a second, she touched the tiny hole where a button was missing from her pure white blouse with the blue collar, and her adorable mouth tightened. Then she turned and from the rumble seat she drew the thing she had taken from the closet of her father, noted detective Carson Drew. The Scheissekopf 374 (with the folding stock and chrome lined barrel) was a heavy weapon, and it took all her strength to lift it, much less hold it steady. But a girl had to do what was right in a world that was going to heck, no matter what the consquences. Yeah, she was determined to live large and stay firm. Soft but firm.

Carmine seemed to sense his danger for he suddenly flicked his butt to the ground and jerked his head up to look right at her. His eyes bugged out with raw terror and his jaw dropped so hard she heard the thump it made. Then she gently squeezed the trigger and a huge copper jacketed slug sizzled through the summer air to plow through Carmines face as it it wasnt there. And in fact, it wasnt there any longer. <br><br>Her shoulder ached from the recoil of the massive Scheissekopf but she didnt even feel it. She looked down grimly at the cold clay that a minute ago had been a high school student. “No one cops a feel off Nancy Drew,” she whispered.

____________________________
WHAT IF… H.P. Lovecraft Wrote a Lone Ranger Story?

THE UNPLEASANT KIVA

Despite the irridescent luminosity of the Arizona sun, which rivalled Hyperion in the late summer afternoon, the air around the Kiva had somehow a cold, clammy chill which carried a faint odious vapor with it. Even the scrub grass which grows sparsely in that land was absent around the foreboding area; the ground was black and barren, and they seen no sign of any living thing for nearly a mile.

Seated astride their splendid mounts, the masked man and his aboriginal comrade regarded the bleak structure with misgivings. Unlike the typical Kiva, religious structures used by the Indians of the American Southwest for their ancient heathen rituals, this structure stood by itself, far from the cliff dwelings. Its opening, surounded by a low adobe rim, resembled nothing so much as the phantasmagorical maw of some antedilivuian beast, the bones of which normally are only seen in museums.

“Cant recollect Ive ever laid eyes on a Kiva like that,” mused the Lone Ranger in a hushed tone.
“How old would you say it is, Tonto?”

“Ugh, me not know,” replied his stoic coppery countenanced companion.

“Confound it!” the masked rider vented angrily. “I know you speak English, Spanish and half a dozen Indian dialects. How is it you cannot manage correct pronouns?”

As his friend turned his head in grieved silence, the Ranger regretted his outburst. Before moving to the wilderness of Texas, his family had been among the oldest and most prominent of the gentry in New England and his innate breeding should have given him the tact to avoid giving offense. “Walll”, he said after a silence, “Since three townsfolk have been missing after they expressed interest in the treasure allegedly buried in this pagan structure, it is our duty to investigate.”

Alighting from his steed, the Ranger uncoiled his trusty lariat from its hook on his saddle and fastened one end securely to a projection on the outer ring of the Kiva. As he placed one polished boot on the rim, he turned and said, “Tonto, perhaps you had best secure our steeds in the shadow of those rather withered and unhealthy trees, since the direct sunlight cannot be good for their health. Then wait for me to climb back up.”

The Indian brave took the reins of the great white stallion which was most appropriately named Silver, but there was apprehension on his lined face. By that, I mean Tontos face, not Silvers. “Kemo sabe, me think there is bad medicine in that hole. Me hear tales of the Old Ones who lived here in the long ago time, before even the red man. Maybe best you wait for me”.
“Balderdash,” scoffed the noble champion of justice, flashing his brilliant smile. “What evil spirit can stand against silver bullets fired by one whose heart is pure?”

With obvious reluctance, the redman rode his painted pony to the shade, towing the magnificent argent beast with him, as behind him the masked man clambered lithely down the foreboding opening. Even as Tonto secured the reins to the trees, which did indeed look as if they had long been exposed to a malign influence, he heard the crisp retorts of two Colt revolvers being fired.

Faster than he would have thought possible, the agitiated brave raced back to the Kiva and thrust his weathered face over the opening, In his hand was his own weapon, drawing without his realized it. For only a second, he listened and then he whirled in fled in a dire panic dreadful to see in a man of such proven courage. The horse Silver he abandoned where it stood, later to be taken by wandering Navajo.

Tonto himself was a broken man after that, losing much weight and babbling dementedly, taking to strong drink and staying behind locked doors the remainder of his life. When asked what could have wrought such a change in his formerly heroic constitution, he would only mumble, “Chewing….me heard CHEWING!”

________________________
WHAT IF… Norvell Page Wrote an Oz Story?

RED PAIN SLAVES OF THE BLOOD DEATH KING

Dorothy reeled back in horror against the door of the summer palace. The Emerald City was in flames, crimson tongues of fire roaring upward but not drowning out the screams of pain. All around her,, hundreds of Munchkins were staggering in agony as red blood poured from their mouths and noses. As the Kansan gasped in disbelief, a dying Munchkin collapsed against her, lifes blood spewing from his face onto her blue gingham dress. "Ewww, gross," she said and pushed him off. <br><br>Horrified beyond words, the young girl turned back to where her best friends in Oz stood in the doorway behind her. The Tin Woodsmans cold
metallic face was unreadable, but Glinda……! On Glindas lovely ageless countenance was a scowl of pure hatred. <br><br>"These mishaps never happened in Oz before your arrival, she hissed at Dorothy. You must be responsible, Kansan! Kill her, Woodman!" <br><br>Even as the unliving horror drew back his mighty axe, Dorothy reacted. Her exploits in Oz had sharpened her wits and toughened her body, and for an eight year old, she was extremely dangerous. She knew Nick Choppers weakness. Even as he drew his axe high overhead, the Kansan leaped forward and shoved him hard in the chest with both hands. Taken off balance, the Woodman fell with a loud metallic clang and she knew from their past adventures together that he could not rise quickly.

Whirling toward Glinda, Dorothy cried out. “Have you gone mad? The citys on fire! Your people are dying from this strange affliction. Now is when we must work together to make things right." But there was a strange evil glitter in the Good Witchs eyes, and as she raised her star tipped wand, lurid red sparkles danced around it. In another instant, Dorothy would have been blasted into charcoal but quick as a litttle cat, the Kansan seized the Woodmans axe. The short tool was surprisingly light (it was made of tin after all) and she whirled it to smash the wand from Glindas hand. Even in her desperation, Dorothy was careful to use the flat of the blade, not the edge.
As the magic wand went flying, Dorothy spun to flee. She had to find out what was behind this. Could the Nome King have somehow cast a spell on Glinda?

Dorothy knew there was a farm just down the road with a scarecrow in its field. If she could reach it, she could disguise herself as her friend, the famous living Scarecrow, and be able to move around freely while she found out what was going on.

“Stop!” commanded Glindas icy voice. "Have you forgotten....Toto?" <br><br>Freezing where she was, Dorothy turned with reluctance to see Glindas servants wheeling out a large circus cage which was seperated into two compartments. In the smaller section was her beloved Toto, cringing in the corner, eyes rolling wildly. And in the other compartment, roaring and foaming at the mouth, was the Cowardly Lion. The great beast was too enraged to speak, its bloodshot eyes fixed on the tiny little pitiful beast
almost within its reach.

“Hah hahhh” laughed Glinda in hideous triumph. “The Lion has not been fed in three days and he is not Cowardly anymore only Ravenous. If I give the word, the barrier between him and your miserable little mutt will be lifted. Well, Kansan, wlll you surrender?”

In a few second, the young girl suffered terribly as she realized her awful decision. But Dorothy Gale came from tough pioneer stock and had never been one to give up. Quick as a bunny, she raced to the cage and brought the axe down as hard as her skinny little arms could weild it to snap off the lock on the cage holding the Lion. Even as she dropped flat, the great brute leaped over her to pounce full upon Glinda.

The hideous scene that followed does not bear describing (the editor said no). As Glinda met her fate at those leonine fangs, her spell broke. The Munchkins stopped spewing blood and the burning city began to return to normal.
Casting a wary eye on the feasting lion, the Kansan bent to pluck up the star tipped wand where its late owner had dropped it. A wry smile was on Dorothy`s lips. Killing witches was getting to be a habit with her.

______________________
WHAT IF… Shakespeare Wrote a Mike Hammer Story?

That very breath which inspires warmth and animation into this mortal clay fled her lips as doth mist off ice in the noonday sun. Still she found the will to speak.

“How couldst thou?” spake the virago and I in turn rushed to answer ere flesh and spirit were forever sundered.

“With ease,” I spake to ears which, alas, would never hear aught more.

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