All posts by Grant Starson

A Peel of Blue Eel: Interview With Lorne Dixon

Horror author Lorne Dixon was kind enough to grant GIGA an interview about his most recent novel, Blue Eel. Dixon has become one of the most prominent proponents of what the new wave of horror called “progressive horror,” and Blue Eel is looking to contribute to this new zeitgeist. Lorne gave us a little look into the mindset behind the novel, along with his views on “progressive horror.”

 

Where did the idea for psychedelic-state inducing eels come from?

The Ganges Blue Eel is a “real” cryptozoological creature. It’s documented in alternative naturalist literature. However, there are a lot of elements that I borrowed from more reputable sources. For instance, the rainforest frogs who have psychedelic excretions. I really needed an animal that was accessible from the ocean, could be believed to have gone undetected for a very long time, and would serve as a plot driver that could remain in the background until it was needed. A deep ocean eel is not really the kind of animal that would be discovered easily, and it was also be exotic enough that it would be memorable from a visual standpoint.

How much has your past novels and short stories informed this project?

Directly. There’s a short story in an anthology called The Horror Library, Volume Four [entitled] “Continuity” that is the story of Marius Spiegler, although it is a variation on the story that you get in the novel. So it’s something of a prequel; it tells you a bit more about what happened in the aftermath of the death of the children on the movie set.

You label Blue Eel as a “progressive horror” novel. How do you define “progressive horror,”  and how does Blue Eel fit into that subset?

My favorite question. So, progressive horror takes a genre that is all too commonly associated with tropes–monsters, damsels in distress, haunted buildings–and rejects those things. It tries to find the emotions that are the bedrock of the genre–whether it’s fright or disgust, all the emotions that make up the horror genre–in ways that are not traditional. So, in many ways this is a ’60’s psychedelia novel, a la Hunter Thompson, transplanted to the genre. Hopefully some of the character beats are uncomfortable and get us to the same places that a traditional horror novel would, but in a way more appealing to a jaded modern audience. As opposed to just recycling the same ideas, which, frankly is one of the reasons the horror genre, besides Stephen King, hasn’t recently enjoyed overt success in the mainstream. It would be nice to see some new stories to be told at some point.

Given that Blue Eel is meant as a “progressive horror” novel, would you consider one of the main points of the novel as trying to scare the audience?

I think it splits the difference between scaring the audience and disturbing the audience. There’s a concept at play in the novel in which there’s never a value statement placed on anything that our protagonist does. I don’t lead the reader and say, “Wow, wouldn’t that be a great thing to do,” or, “Wouldn’t this be a horrible thing to do.” Things happen, just like in real life, and the individual reader will imbue a sense of value to those actions. There’s a scene in the book that our main character does something that I think in any other book, in any other situation, we’d be appalled by. It happens in the back seat of a car. I’m not as interested in going about getting those emotional reactions that we look for by saying, “Hey, isn’t that awful.” I put it in a position where our gut reaction is to say this is a horrible thing, but in context it’s more complex than that. I think that’s where the modern world is, [and] I think that actually is what frightens people most: the moral complexity of a world where waterboarding might save lives…or not. That uncertainty is terrifying.

How do you think the new generation of readers will respond to this novel?

In the reader reviews that we have already gotten, words like “new,” “unique,” and “unpredictable” keep coming up, from younger readers in particular. Readers below the age of 25 are pretty brave people, they’re not looking for comfortable beach reads. They go against the tide of the culture, in a pretty big way, simply by being readers. They aren’t tied to TV culture, gaming culture, opening-night-blockbuster culture in the same way as their peers. Being a reader is countercultural for many of these kids. So, I think they are very hungry for stories that appeal to them and their concerns. We aren’t afraid of Carpathian counts and  ghost-haunted castles anymore, but we are afraid of identity theft. So something like Invasion of the Body Snatchers is still relevant because the metaphor still works. Old Europe invading new Europe, which is the Dracula myth, is not relevant, at least not to younger readers who don’t share the same nostalgia of older generations.

Where did the inspiration come from for the character of Branson Turaco?

Most clearly, the JonBenét Ramsey case is a jumping off point. There came a point where I realized that the media had convicted that entire family. Everyone had assumed that whatever happened to JonBenét that night came from the family, and later on after the media attention faded, the family was basically exonerated, the DNA samples didn’t match, but it didn’t really matter: the narrative was already set. The family was guilty as far as tabloid America was concerned, or at least complicit, or a bad parent, or not enough of a parent.  So that was the jumping off point. If that was you, and you were being condemned by the police, your friends, your estranged wife, and you found out that there was a way to prove all that to be untrue, and you could get your daughter back, how far would you go? How much would you risk, how much of your values would you sacrifice and potentially become the monster everyone believes you to be in order to get your daughter back? And that was the genesis.

Would you consider Branson to be an abusive person?

I don’t like to lead the reader, so in the context of the book, I wouldn’t answer that. In terms of myself, I do think he crosses lines, I think he definitely does things that aren’t morally acceptable, but the question is, “Whose morality?” and, “In what circumstances?” If it was your mother, daughter, or best friend, would you be willing to do things that in any normal instances you wouldn’t? Does that make him a white knight? Certainly not. Does it make him the villain of the piece? I don’t think so, but he may be for someone else. I think it depends on how you feel about his situation, and that’s the whole concept of letting the reader bring more to the story than I do.

However, it is an imperative for the tobacco companies to the grand jury as well as on cialis discount india the show the 60 minutes. Therefore to bring the tampered life of the female viagra pills see content now person as it creates problems with the partner and spoils the love life. There are many medicines which are sildenafil tab used to ease the blood flow in the arteries or ease hyper tension etc. This devensec.com cialis 50mg is not an untested or dangerous product. How do you feel about the reader “owning” their interpretation of a work?

Our culture has caught up to that concept. If you look at how people view owning music and movies today, it’s very different than how 25 years ago. People feel truly betrayed when their favorite film franchise or television series goes in a direction that doesn’t connect with them. There is a sense of ownership, and I think it’s time for content creators to start embracing that.

How about Marius Spiegler?

Should I even be talking about this? So, in 1983 there was a horrible accident that occurred on the set of a movie. There’s a great nonfiction book about the incident. Again, it’s really ripped from the headlines character building. All these bigger-than-life characters that we are familiar with from tabloid news, but taken to the fantasy level, where they are in service to a story that hopefully informs people a little bit more about their tolerance for violence and retribution. It asks the reader how far you’ll support a vigilante, because there’s a line for all of us. Spiegler isn’t a person who necessarily did anything wrong, but he’s a guy who will never live down the fact that he’s indirectly responsible for the death of two children, and that’s going to be part of his legacy forever. Just like in the real case, I think that outrunning that kind of a situation in the world of today’s hyper-media is impossible. And frightening, because what if the newscasters get it wrong? It’s not a redemption story for the character, though it seems like it’s going to be. I have no interest in forcing the reader to feel one way or the other.

Moral relativity plays a major part in the characterization of the leads of this novel. Given their own moral shortcomings, would you classify the antagonists such as the Moonmen as “evil” or some similar label?

That depends on how you approach the story, but with the Moonmen, I think it’s easier to cast them as morally compromised to an unforgivable level. The Moonmen live out in the desert and do their own thing, which is noble libertarianism taken to an extreme, but they are also involved in human trafficking and drug smuggling, which is not noble. But then both cults, the Moonmen and the Pacificans, have their homes invaded and children taken. Is that really so different than what’s happened to Branson?

How would you respond to a reader labeling Abriella as Branson’s love interest?

Branson is accused of doing something horrible to his daughter and ends up with someone so young. That should be uncomfortable and complex for the reader and certainly challenge what’s moral. There’s no cohesion, there’s never a point where Branson forces any of it to happen, but he lets it happen. He’s complicit on some level. He doesn’t make the first move, but does that make him unaccountable? If she’s a surrogate for his daughter, then that’s really uncomfortable. Is it just an age difference, or something far less acceptable? That’s up to the reader.

Much of the description in the novel is devoted to grotesque imagery, such as open wounds and disgusting environmental conditions. How do you feel this works into Blue Eel as a “progressive horror” novel?

Body horror, in some form or another, has been with us forever, but in modern uses of it, such as the films of David Lynch or David Cronenberg, repulsive images are used not just for their visceral reactions but as a critical component of storytelling. Cut us open and we have a graphic internalization of the plot: in Blue Eel, Branson finds himself inside a teepee made of bone and a room made of flesh. We’re as deep inside the character as we can get.

How do you feel the overall development of the horror genre has impacted modern society’s sensibilities?

Horror is everywhere. The young adult genre is probably about 65% horror, and if you include dystopian science fiction, it’s really more like 85%. Television shows like The Walking Dead and police procedural about serial killers are insanely popular. We just came out of Hannibal being made into a mainstream television show. I think that the label “horror” has not done as well as the actual genre. I think the label still has some negative connotations, but heightened approaches to tragedy are everywhere. I’ve seen it reflected in greeting cards, in junk mail, on t-shirts. It’s everywhere and so ubiquitous that we really don’t even call it horror anymore. The imagery and emotions being evoked are common and mainstream, even if the “horror genre” proper has been sidelined.

How do you feel Blue Eel will affect your future works?

I’m about three-fourths of the way through writing my next novel. I wrote my first three novels for a previous publisher. I wrote traditional monster novels because that’s what the publisher wanted. It was fun, but it wasn’t particularly what I wanted to do forever. I wrote Blue Eel without a publisher or a contract; I really wanted to write it. I didn’t know if it was salable, I didn’t know if there was someone out there that would be willing to take a chance on a noir-psychedelia-suspense-revenge horror novel. But what I learned is that the reward is greater than the threat. There isn’t a whole lot like it. It’s a unique experience and treats the reader with respect. I think that is lacking, not just in horror, but in fiction in general. That concept–treating the reader as the writer’s equal–is really compelling to me. I don’t think I can possibly go back to writing the traditional monster stories.

Any last words on the interview?

Please support what you love. Take chances. Explore. Settling for a known commodity will never be as rewarding as taking a chance and having it pay off. Horror readers have a rough individuality in their character anyway, so why not lead the way into uncharted waters?

VERTOSCOPE: A Look Into the Dark Side

Most stories try to get the audience to relate to the protagonist. A likable main character is an easy sell, it’s hard to get people to look into the uncomfortably warped reality of villains. Stories about villains do exist, but they are rare. In this 200-page graphic anthology, VERTOSCOPE adds more entries to that niche. I was recently given the privilege of interviewing the project head, Nechama Frier, to talk about VERTOSCOPE and her own experiences in the crazy world of comics.

Page from "Witchweed" by Ama.
Page from “Witchweed” by Ama.

What advice do you have for writers seeking artists?

Save up enough money to pay one artist a fair rate, for a short story about 20-30 pages. Once that’s complete, that will be your physical evidence of your work, so you can use it to show people what your writing style is. And it doesn’t hurt to do stick figures while you are looking for an artist, there’s a lot of comics out there that get by on their writing despite stick figure art.

Page from "Taming You" by Grace Park
Page from “Taming You” by Grace Park.

How did you get into creating comics for a living?

I wouldn’t say at this moment I can call myself someone who creates comics for a living, I can say I create art for a living. My main income comes from illustrations and stand-alone products, such as cute earrings or scarfs, and projects such as this are stuff I save up for in order to make what I’m really passionate about happen.

Page from "Bear My Teeth" by FATE.
Page from “Bear My Teeth” by FATE.


Why the title VERTOSCOPE?

Ten and I, my co-editor, wanted to try our best to make up a word that was sightly strange and isoteric, that kinda en-capsuled what we were trying to go for. To give a lens to view the world from a warped view, to get the point across that this is something not quite right.

Page from "Coping Mechanism" by Jenn Doyle and Ursula Wood
Page from “Coping Mechanism” by Jenn Doyle and Ursula Wood.

What inspired the creation of this anthology? Why Villains?

Because Ten and I just love villains. We also spend a lot of time on social media, and we see a lot of discourse between fans of works, who seem confused about the boundaries of fiction. A good example is Game of Thrones, where so much of what’s happening is horrible, and many people say “What this character did is horrible, and you cannot watch this show anymore.” Me and Ten are here to say that, no you can enjoy these things, reality and fiction can be kept separate.

Page from "The House of the Immaculate" by Sey Vee.
Page from “The House of the Immaculate” by Sey Vee.

Obviously, with a concept of exploring the psyche of less than noble individuals, shock typically becomes a component of that. What place does shock value have in this project, if any?

It definitely has it’s place, but I was interested to find out that because of the particular stories me and Ten are interested in, and the writers we hired, shock and gore doesn’t play a large role in the stories. It’s still there, but it’s there to emphasize moments where our characters step over those moral boundaries. One of our stories is just about children playing soccer, nothing of real shock occurs, but one character takes it a little further than his peers, so shock is relevant to the specific situation at hand. The shock value always makes sense to the context of the individual story, but none of our authors used it as a cheap gimmick to horrify and disgust viewers, because that’s really not the point.

Page from "Striker" by Stowell/Stober/Shazzbaa.
Page from “Striker” by Stowell/Stober/Shazzbaa.

Who is your favorite villain in fiction, and why?

This question is so tough, because we have so many. Someone once asked me which villain in comics I’d like to write for, and my answer was Lobo for DC Comics. I would go with the Greek God Apollo, who is not normally seen as a villain, but unquestionably is based on his actions. My view of him as a child was this nice sweet god of the sun, none of which is true. He is not nice, he’s not the god of the sun. A great example of his villainous nature is when he wins a rigged music contest against the Satyr Marcyas. He chooses as his prize to skin Marcyas and let his blood flow into the river, he did name the river after Marcyas though, so good job. I find him particularly fascinating, because his God-like status allows him to get away with stuff like this, no one ever calls him out on it.

Page from "The Devil's Pupil" by Ashley McCammon.
Page from “The Devil’s Pupil” by Ashley McCammon.

I noticed on the project description that you mention creators being pressured to create likable protagonists, is this from personal experience by you or any member for your group?

I think that was a reference to both the industry and to what I mentioned earlier with this discourse of social media. There’s been a long issue in the industry between underground comics and mainstream comics, about having complete creative freedom and having self-published stories, without fear of censorship. It’s not that we are creating something new, just that we are creating our own versions of everything. People get stuck on the word new, I can enjoy the same basic structure multiple times, because every author has their own unique take on it.

Page from "The Wonderful World of Wasps" by H. Preece and A. Lee
Page from “The Wonderful World of Wasps” by H. Preece and A. Lee

What do you feel are the benefits to an anthology format over others?

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I think that the format is ideal for any artist that is starting out, or has lower visibility. Not only are short stories less of a time commitment, but also a combination of veteran creators along with new talent is beneficial to everyone. A publisher can be more willing to take a risk on someone who is relatively unknown. The same benefit applies to consumers, they can pick up an anthology by a veteran author they know, and find a bunch of new talent along with that.

Page from "Tincture" by One of Two.
Page from “Tincture” by One of Two.

If the project is successful, will this be something you revisit, such as with a new anthology or stand-alone series based on the stories?

I would really love to, I know a number of creators already have further plans for their short stories. I’ve taken a portion of what could be a longer story for my submission, and if we have a Vol 2. I would love to include new stories, both completely new, and some having the same artist revisit their stories from Vol 1. I would also love to include a section for prose in a future installment.

Page from "The Devil's Dentist" by Mady G.
Page from “The Devil’s Dentist” by Mady G.

How did you get together your team of writers and artists for this project?

It was completely open submission. We put a call out on Twitter and Tumblr, asking for people to turn in their portfolios, a summary of what their stories would be about, and an estimated page count. We got about 150 submissions, and me and Ten went through each to decide what fit best, and offered contracts to those who made it. Those who didn’t make it were still offered a personal response about why the submission wasn’t accepted. Because Ten and I have both been through that process of getting rejections, we felt it was more constructive to offer people with feedback. There’s never a personal reason why people are rejected but mainly budget reasons. We’d love to accept twice as many creators in the future if possible.

Page from "The Bear and the Jester" by ENOCH.
Page from “The Bear and the Jester” by ENOCH.

This is the first kickstarter you have put together, but it’s not the first group-funding project you’ve done, can you explain your past experiences?

Just last year I put together a 12 month calendar featuring 12 different artists, and it was funded through pre-orders, to make sure I had the funding to print it and to pay the illustrators. I’ve been a pro illustrator for 10 years already, and I have always delivered, whether it’s an order from my shop, or a commission. I think the reason we have been doing so well, is because we have built that level of trust with the consumer to produce a quality product and on time.

Page from "Tails" by Emilee McGlory.
Page from “Tails” by Emilee McGlory.

A large component of your stretch goals is bonuses for members of your project, what made you choose to advertise that?

Because I think that the largest part of running a kickstarter is making sure our artists get the reward they deserve. Ten and I made sure we could pay our artists no matter what. The bonuses are built into the kickstarter, but we made sure we could at least pay the artists $50 a page. Artists don’t get paid enough in the first place, and we want to make sure the book is printed, and the artists get paid enough for their work.

In terms of the commissions that are available for backers of $125 or more, what can potential backers expect from commission requests? Does the $1,000 Comics Royalty tier also include a commission from the $125 tier in addition to a 5 page commission from yourself?

Yes, in essence it does, the $1000 tier includes a water color cover for the 5-page commission. What I have done, is to have any commission backers connected via email to the person they request the commission from. After I connect them, I check in via email, and make sure everything went well for both the commissioner and the artist.

Can you tell me a little about your contribution, “C-259”?

It is a sci-fi story, basically set where humanity has lost Earth. It is set in colony 259, one of the last known bubbles of humanity in the universe. Things are going fairly well for them, they are surviving, but then aliens show up, and basically everything gets fucked. The actual story takes place in that colony, and focuses on the choices the main character, Filip Sawicki, chooses to make, given the situation.

VERTOSCOPE has so far made about half of it’s kickstarter goal.  There is also a $2,000 dollar Associate Publisher and $5,000 publisher tier, with the latter granting the backer 50 softcover copies of the anthology, a publisher credit, a special bookplate signed by all the creators 15 page comic commission (drawn and colored by Nechama), along with a digitally designed and colored cover.

After talking with Nechama about my personal experiences as a writer hoping to get into comics without currently having an artist, she provided a helpful post by VERTOSCOPE contributor Ursula Wood, to assist others in a similar situation with advice.

Nechama Frier was also kind enough to give a full preview of one of the stories included in the anthology, “Breakfast in Bed”

Credit for these images goes to http://swinsea.tumblr.com/post/132566833355/its-camodadcomics-birthday-to-celebrate-you
Credit for “Breakfast in Bed” images goes to http://swinsea.tumblr.com/post/132566833355/its-camodadcomics-birthday-to-celebrate-you

Breakfast in Bed 2

Breakfast in Bed 3

Breakfast in Bed 4

Breakfast in Bed 5

Breakfast in Bed 6

Breakfast in Bed 7

Breakfast in Bed 8

Breakfast in Bed 9

Breakfast in Bed 10

Breakfast in Bed 11

Disney Under the Scope Part 2: Pinocchio

Just three years after the success of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Disney followed it up with an adaptation of Pinocchio, by Italian author, Carlo Collodi. Unfortunately, upon its initial release, Pinocchio was considered a box office bomb. Time proved to be kind to the film; however, future reissues in 1945 turned the bomb into a profitable venture for Disney, and critically it has been hailed as one of the finest works of animation ever produced. Similar claims are made about Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but as I explained in my previous review, save for its technical achievements and unique usages of animation, Snow White was about as enjoyable watching a snail race a rock. Pinocchio is a far different movie from Snow White in many ways, and serves as a follow up to many of the animation techniques used in Disney’s debut animated film. So let’s crack open this egg the world insists is golden.

Being a Disney film, Pinocchio is not lacking in its fair quantity of musical numbers, and thankfully they are much better here than in Snow White. “When You Wish Upon a Star” is a classic and is the closest Disney has to a theme song, as it perfectly encapsulates the company’s image of being the creators of childhood dreams. “Give a Little Whistle” and “Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee” are ear worms after the first listen, and “I’ve Got No Strings” is no less catchy. However, more than just being nice show tunes, the music of Pinocchio also directly interacts with the plot of film. “I’ve Got No Strings” is an actual performance Pinocchio gives with Stromboli’s troupe, and contrasts the puppets Stromboli manipulates with Pinocchio’s opportunity to choose a different life from them.

Pinocchio seems somewhat terrified looking at the lifelessness of other puppets.
Pinocchio seems somewhat terrified looking at the lifelessness of other puppets.

“When You Wish Upon a Star” gives us a view into the almost child-like naivety of Geppetto’s hopes for a son to magically appear in his life and provides book ends to the film. Honest John’s number, “Hi-Diddle-Dee-Dee,” despite being among the simpler songs, is interesting for how much it tells us about Honest John’s intentions. At first glance, it’s just a little ditty John sings on the way to whatever he talked Pinocchio into doing, but he makes important changes to it as the film continues. After several repetitions of the same prose, John cuts out words all together and only scats the melody, reflecting how empty Honest John’s silver tongue is. As John escorts Pinocchio to the Pleasure Island coach, his lyrics change all together. While maintaining the same song structure and melody, he paints the song as a mere tool to trick gullible kids.

In my previous review, I commented on how great the animation of Snow White is; however, Pinocchio makes it hard to believe there was only a three-year gap between the two. Most of the animation in Snow White focuses on the actual characters, with mostly static backgrounds, and only a few instances of the characters really interacting with the world. The environments are detailed, but that’s all, and the story is told on an entirely different plane. The world of Pinocchio is almost a character in itself, and changes as the movie progresses. Smoke from cigars bend along with the characters’ movement. Most scenes are drawn with realistic lighting, with a clear source of light.

A lighting is treated as if there were a real lamp in the room, so Lampwick casts a shadow over Pinocchio as he stands in front of the light source of the room.
Shading is treated as if there were a real light in the room, so Lampwick casts a shadow over Pinocchio as he stands in front of the light source of the room.

The last act in particular showcases water effects that look live-action. As Pinocchio splashes into the ocean, a current forms around his body. As Jiminy and Pinocchio explore the ocean floor and ask the fish for the location of Monstro, air bubbles form from their movements and plop out of their mouths.

Not only are the underwater scenes vibrant, but the distorted lines of sunlight can be seen flowing on the ocean floor, as if actual waves are above Pinocchio.
Not only are the underwater scenes vibrant, but the distorted lines of sunlight can be seen flowing on the ocean floor, as if actual waves are above Pinocchio.

Monstro himself is a site to behold. Throughout the final act of the film, the audience is reminded of how massive and deadly the creature who swallowed Geppetto and his ship whole is. Once Monstro finally appears, he’s less of a monster and more of a force of nature. His entire being bends the world to his whim and his impact shows the audience just how minuscule everything else is compared to him.

Monstro rips apart a gigantic wave that Geppetto and Pinocchio struggled to climb. the water bends to meet Monstro's will, and our two heroes are further diminished by their size next to Monstro.
Monstro rips apart a gigantic wave that Geppetto and Pinocchio struggled to climb. the water bends to meet Monstro’s will, and our two heroes are further diminished by their size next to Monstro.

One of the greatest strengths of the animation in Pinocchio is how it gives each character its own visual personality. This is not just in terms of how the actual characters look, but it’s how they move and interact with both each other, and their world. Pinocchio’s movements tend to have a very double jointed nature to them; he can twist and turn in ways others can’t because he is a puppet. He turns his body around under his head a full 360 degrees and bends his limbs in grotesque angles.

Pinocchio bends in ways that would snap the bones of normal people.
Pinocchio bends in ways that would snap the bones of normal people.

While Geppetto is the opposite, and throughout the movie, we can see his struggles with an aging body. He struggles to bend and pick up the book Pinocchio is supposed to take to school, his hands shaking as if they are strained to do such a simple task. It creates a sense of vulnerability from Geppetto. In turn, his struggling helps the audience feel sympathetic towards him, and makes his attempts to save Pinocchio that much more heroic. Honest John moves fast and slyly, which mirrors his fast-witted, improvisational method of conning others into serving his goals. This contrasts perfectly with Gideon, his dumb and slow moving partner. Just by seeing the two carry themselves, it’s readily apparent both of their personalities and relationship with each other. The Blue Fairy is the uncanny valley problem that Snow White had in her movie, but with a glowing aura around her that makes her seem even more out of place. However, unlike in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, The Blue Fairy seeming out of place makes sense. She’s meant to be this great powerful being who can give life to wooden puppets, and her oddly realistic art design and motions make her presence take over the scene.

The Blue Fairy was animated through rotoscoping (tracing over live-action footage) which is why she looks so different from the rest of the cast.
The Blue Fairy was animated through rotoscoping (tracing over live-action footage) which is why she looks so different from the rest of the cast.

The Blue Fairy is a foil of sorts to Monstro: both act as forces of nature, and as such take center stage in their respective scenes. While Monstro acts with forceful, angry acts of destruction, The Blue Fairy creates her presence through subtle and gentle motions.

Pinocchio lacks the more metaphorical uses of animation that Snow White has; it’s all fairly straightforward. While it is very impressive, the movie dabbles in a little too much, “animation for animation’s sake.” There are sequences that are in the movie strictly to show off the fruits of the animators’ efforts, rather than advance the plot. Close to the beginning of the movie, the various clocks in Geppetto’s shop begin to ring to inform him it’s time for sleep. Then, the movie basically pauses to show us each and every clock’s unique alarm. Yes, they look well animated, but this takes several minutes to show us what could’ve just been a few seconds. This in turn takes up time that could be spent on more interesting set pieces. Compare a scene like that to a scene such as the children playing in Pleasure Island, where the scene is both visually more appealing and actually informs the plot. Through the acts the children commit on Pleasure Island, we see the destructive nature that lies behind kids when left to their own devices.

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The kids on Pleasure Island run amok, and we see first hand their destructive capability.
The kids on Pleasure Island run amok, and we see first hand their destructive capability.

We can see this come to a head when Lampwick throws a brick through a stained glass window. It can be inferred from the prominent usage of praying in many early Disney films that the company held religion in high regard, so to have a child deface church property would be regarded as a high act of debauchery. However, the movie uses up much of its run time with sequences that don’t inform nearly as much, and as such many of the plot elements of the movie cannot be expanded upon.

I cannot complain about Pinocchio being a boring movie, if only for how ridiculous it gets. It does progress at a quick pace, making sure not to drag on like Snow White does. The movie essentially revolves around Pinocchio’s journey to morality and learning to resist temptation. To that end, it focuses on two major arcs about things that lead us astray from the straight and narrow path: fame and pleasure. In each act, Pinocchio attempts to walk to school are halted by Honest John and Gideon, essentially the embodiments of the temptation that exists for him to misbehave. Each tale inevitably ends with Pinocchio learning why that path doesn’t pay in the end and narrowly escaping its consequences. The film does a fairly decent job of showing why someone would want to take these routes in life, however, the film ends up falling flat in each.

Pinocchio is about the titular wooden boy developing a conscience and experiencing his own rite of passage, but Pinocchio never makes his own decisions about how he wants to run his life. Yes, Pinocchio goes back on the path of education and morality, but it’s only ever because the other paths he took had run their course and basically forced him to return to the good path. Pinocchio was fully willing to become an actor in Stromboli’s marionette troupe, he enjoyed the fame it brought him, but then he wanted out once Stromboli’s true intentions were revealed. At that point, Pinocchio was faced with a decision of returning to the straight and narrow, or live to be used by Stromboli until his usefulness was up, then killed.

Seems like a good reason to stop.
Seems like a good reason to stop.

When Pinocchio meets up with Honest John again after escaping from Stromboli, Pinocchio tells him he doesn’t want to be an actor anymore, because “Stromboli was horrible.” This implies that had Stromboli not been horrible, Pinocchio would still be riding the gravy train of fame. At that point, Pinocchio is not making a moral decision and he is not developing a conscience, just a functioning brain. The same applies to his venture into debauchery on Pleasure Island. Pinocchio is all fun and games until people literally start turning into jackasses. People don’t develop their morality by having a variety of metaphorical guns pointed at their heads, they need to be able to sit down and assess their own decisions and make them of their own free will. Once Pinocchio decides to set off to save Geppetto from Monstro we finally see him make his first decision that’s not purely based on an ultimately selfish motive. His decision serves as an effective end to Pinocchio’s arc, shame the arc itself doesn’t live up to it.

Despite the main character arc’s problems, the film does succeed in creating memorable and likeable characters. Pinocchio may act like a naive kid who only thinks about what’s good for himself a few minutes in the future, but that makes sense given he’s essentially a newborn child. The center of Pinocchio’s world is Geppetto, and this can be seen in his interactions with Stromboli. Stromboli does everything he can to take advantage of Pinocchio: he gives him a useless hunk of metal as payment for his performance, he tells him how he’s going to make him travel and give nonstop performances and he even berates him during the show whenever Pinocchio does something slightly out of line, yet none of it really registers with Pinocchio.

He smiles as Stromboli nearly chops his arm off. Funny fact: Stromboli's a rather offensive Italian stereotype, with all that delicious angry broken English, yet the original story was written by an Italian.
He smiles as Stromboli nearly chops his arm off. Funny fact: Stromboli’s a rather offensive Italian stereotype, with all that delicious angry broken English, yet the original story was written by an Italian.

It’s not until Stromboli threatens to never let Pinocchio see Geppetto again that Pinocchio finally realizes the situation he’s in. This makes up for his lack of real development in the film, and allows Pinocchio risking his own skin to save Geppetto to makes sense.

Geppetto himself is largely made compelling due to his animation. At first glance, all we really get from him is that he is a loving father, but through the visuals surrounding him, we learn a lot more. He trembles as he tries to perform simple tasks, he always has a noticeable hunch when he walks and he apparently needs several dozen clocks going off at the same time to even begin to register the alarm that tells him to go to sleep. This gives us a view into how age is catching up with him.

Seeing Geppetto go to such lengths to search for Pinocchio despite his physical weakness is quite endearing.
Seeing Geppetto go to such lengths to search for Pinocchio despite his physical weakness is quite endearing.

This is especially important when trying to understand Geppetto’s bizarre mindset in wishing to turn his puppet into a real boy. Geppetto is a lonely old man who never was able to have a family of his own. He overcompensates for this through his woodwork and his house pets, giving each the care and attention not unlike a father to his offspring. Even his interactions with Pinocchio seem based on how he’s heard a parent should take care of their son, not from experience. This depressing subtle undertone shows us the kind of hopeful person Geppetto is. Despite never getting the son he wanted throughout his entire life, he’s still hoping for it into old age. He is willing to fight for this hope once he gets it, going so far as to go on an overseas journey to save his son from Pleasure Island. The film would’ve benefited had more time been spent dealing with Geppetto’s crash course on fatherhood, but he ends up being in very little of the movie.

The story of Pinocchio’s trials to attain boyhood, is almost equally the story of Jiminy learning how hard life can be to do the right thing. The only reason Jiminy is appointed by The Blue Fairy is because he proudly boasts his knowledge about what a conscience is. The Blue Fairy seems to find his assertion so humorous that she immediately lets him guide the life she just created, as if to tell Jiminy to put up or shut up. Serving as Pinocchio’s moral compass, one would reasonably assume he is just a one-note, know-it-all, but Jiminy ends up knowing very little. He consistently makes poor judgment calls in his mission to teach Pinocchio how to be a good boy. He leaves Pinocchio to Stromboli after he sees him at a show and thinks Pinocchio is a success. He gets frustrated at Pinocchio’s immature behavior at Pleasure Island and abandons him. While this makes him a questionable choice by The Blue Fairy as Pinocchio’s conscience, it does make him a more compelling character. While Jiminy does mess up a lot, he also works to solve his mistakes. By the end of the movie, Jiminy is awarded a golden badge, which basically is The Blue Fairy outright telling the audience Jiminy’s character arc is complete. While not the most subtle approach, Jiminy’s arc falls on its face a lot less than Pinocchio’s, so I’m willing to overlook the small moral anvil.

At least it's a small badge, so that's a a point towards subtlety, I suppose.
At least it’s a small badge, so that’s a a point towards subtlety, I suppose.

Coming from Snow White, Pinocchio is a relief. It solves much of my complaints with the previous film in the Disney canon: it’s not boring, the characters aren’t merely caricatures and the music is vastly improved. However, with the good, comes its own set of problems, such as the primary arc breaking a few of its legs, causing its moral to fall flat, or the lack of development between Geppetto and Pinocchio. Overall, Pinocchio is like waking up in the middle of a really good dream, it was fun while it lasted, but you wish it there was more to it.

More like copper Walt. Copper's good.
More like copper Walt. Copper’s good.

Going Into The Badlands: Episode 2 Reviewed

So another week has passed, and here we are, at the second episode of Into the Badlands. While the first episode didn’t exactly impress me, I was looking forward to this week’s installment. After the satisfying town fight scene in “The Fort,” I was confident in getting more good and corny action. However, I was less confident in getting a solid story and actors who haven’t recently undergone lobotomies. Despite my reservations, I still went into this with a hopeful mindset, so now I can talk about how “Fist Like a Bullet” didn’t raise my hopes much.

Action is this show’s forte, and episode two at the very least gave me more reason to say that. The first fight scene involves The Widow (Emily Beecham) fending off several minions in what I can only assume is a strip club. The Widow has an agile ninja fighting style, so much of the fight focuses on her dodging her brutish opponents and using her environment as a weapon. She jumps on top of the bar and kicks bottles at her enemies, and she swings around a stripper pole, kicking everyone around her. It all flows naturally, even giving it a unique pole dancing feel to it.

The focus on fast moving and small strikes gives The Widow a unique fighting style to Sunny.

The scene does lack the interesting cinematography shown in the town fight from episode one, but that’s saved by The Widow’s flips and her marksmanship with her throwing knives. The fight also maintains a tongue-in-cheek tone, which saves it from the return of the hilariously bad blood effects. All of the problems from the first episode’s attempt at gore are preserved here. At one point, The Widow repeatedly slices a guy up, and with each swipe of her blade, the same paint looking blood from last episode splatters. All of it looks goofy, but since the fight itself features a dress-wearing ninja pole dancing her enemies to death in a strip club, goofy isn’t out of place.

Sunny, once again, gets the spotlight in the second action sequence, and it’s very reminiscent of the first one from “The Fort.” It’s Sunny against a bunch of outclassed thugs, but now in a warehouse, which isn’t winning any awards for set design, but it’s better than generic woods. The fight is oddly serious save for one visual gag. The tone was especially hard for me to take, because the gang leader reminded me of Paul Giamatti.

Sunny deflecting the Paul Giamatti look-alike's axe back at one of his men was good for a chuckle.
Sunny deflecting the Paul Giamatti look-alike’s axe back at one of his men was good for a chuckle.

The theme of the fight is a race against time to save Ryder. After he is hung by the neck from the warehouse ceiling, he slowly begins to suffocate, and Sunny must clear the room full of baddies to get to him. This setup doesn’t really add much to the fight though, as Sunny still takes his sweet time fighting and making sure he looks cool while doing it. When the scene first starts, Ryder takes out a weapon as well, which got my hopes up that I’d get to see a team up between him and Sunny, but he’s strung up immediately after the fight begins. The choreography has gone up considerably for Sunny. Despite still being mostly Sunny walking all over everyone, choreography still manages to be entertaining. There’s a few interesting set pieces present here as well, including a fight on a series of steel girders and Sunny cornering himself in a small tunnel. Again, the gore effects are present, and are still bad, especially the scene where Sunny chops a guy’s arm off, and we get to see the stump. The more serious tone here does clash with the effects more than The Widow’s scene, but it’s still not a deal breaker.

I guess Sunny’s enemies were gelatin monsters.

Outside of the fighting, this episode did much better at keeping my attention than the last one. The plot was mostly more well paced, and I never felt the story was rushing as much as in “The Fort”. However, the characters must see something in M.K.’s “amazing” ability to emote that I simply don’t. Once again, M.K. manages to convince someone he’s just met, who’s supposed to be trained from childhood to be loyal to their baron, to directly risk their stations and/or life to help him. In this case, it was Tilda, played by Ally Ioannides, who falls to M.K.’s alleged charm. Within the first few seconds of the two making eye contact, it was obnoxiously obvious that the two would develop a thing for each other, although “develop” is a poor choice of words here. The overall M.K./Tilda plot line is a revisiting of sorts of the Sunny/M.K. plot of the first episode. The two meet, one is an outsider, the other is a baron’s loyal assassin, and the assassin brings M.K. back to their respective baron to be brought into their ranks. Then it ends with said assassin letting M.K. escape against their baron’s ultimate wishes due to a poorly developed relationship. So basically, if Sunny had made out with M.K. in “The Fort”, half of this episode would be the same.

Truly the face of an angel.
Truly the face of an angel.

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The B story of the episode follows Sunny’s further disillusionment with Quinn. As Quinn faces the realization that a tumor will soon claim his life, he becomes paranoid to the point of asking Sunny to kill the doctor who diagnosed him and his wife, as they are the only two who know of his impending death. Sunny refuses, forcing Quinn to commit the atrocity himself leaving Sunny to watch helplessly. This causes Sunny to commit himself fully to escaping The Badlands with Veil, who’s parents happened to be the two people Quinn killed.

Having the doctor and his wife have their blood link together was a bit trite, but it's nice to see some effort put into the cinematography that's not fighting.
Having the doctor and his wife have their blood link together was a bit trite, but it’s nice to see some effort put into the cinematography that’s not fighting.

This does unfortunately lead to the worst scene in the episode, where Sunny asks his friend Waldo about escaping. Waldo proceeds to spout nonsensical, philosophical mumbo jumbo that tries to explain that because living beings tend to desire to have a home to sleep in, they don’t actually enjoy freedom. The plot line itself continues many of the problems I had with Sunny’s relationship with Quinn in the first episode, but amplifies them. There’s a conversation between the two where Quinn tells Sunny about how the first time he felt alive was when he snapped someone’s neck, and Sunny looks surprised and horrified at this revelation. Last episode, Sunny had a conversation with the tattooist who marks each of Sunny’s kills on his back about becoming desensitized to murder, so why is Sunny now so affected by Quinn’s tale? Sunny’s lived with this man for almost his entire life, it’s not like Quinn is secretive about how callous he is towards human life, so why is Sunny being surprised by Quinn being Quinn as usual? The entire point of Quinn even mentioning the event is basically only to give Sunny more reason to hate him and hasten Sunny’s arc. The show’s difficulties in balancing it’s characters with it’s action makes it questionable that this episode introduced even more major characters.

The Widow was a fairly interesting character, part political schemer and part ninja. Her motivations are simple enough, kill Baron Quinn, but she also has interest in M.K.’s hidden power, and seems to be a bit more kind than Baron Quinn. She’s protective of her daughter, uses negotiation instead of brute force to expand her influence, and is capable of acting on a much more intimate level than Quinn. She also benefits from being played by probably the best actor in the show so far. While still not great, Emily Beecham provides far more genuine emotion than pretty much anyone else in the show. After finishing her fight in the strip club, she interrogates one of her assailants, and she is noticeably flustered. It shows us that she’s able to let her emotions come to the surface in high stress situations, even though she normally keeps a collected demeanor. Most of the episode is spent watching her engaged in negotiations, so we don’t get to see much more than her poker face, but there’s nothing seriously wrong with how Emily portrays the character.

She's also great at making minors uncomfortable by giving them baths.
She’s also great at making minors uncomfortable by giving them baths.

Ally Ioannides is less than stellar as Tilda. She is, like Sunny, supposed to be a trained assassin, however she comes off as a hormone stricken teen whenever she’s talking to M.K. The material Ally is given doesn’t really help her in that image, as most of her dialogue is meant to establish a forced relationship between the two, and it’s hard to make an endearing relationship happen with another lifeless character. She gets a few chances to show her moves as a fighter, but in each, she never looks or sounds like a fighter. Though doubtful, I hope to see the M.K. and Tilda relationship put to the side, or at least not be romantic, so that Tilda can develop more on her own.

This about sums up Tilda in this episode.
This about sums up Tilda in this episode.

Despite largely taking place in a new domain, much of this episode still carries the southern plantation aesthetic. The Widow’s HQ looks similar to Quinn’s, even though The Widow herself doesn’t fit the look. Her minions wear eastern style uniforms, but this simply clashes with the environments we see them in. If The Widow fancies eastern attire, it would make sense for her to also make her living space resemble that interest. The strip club from the beginning of the episode was a good change of pace, if only for the dancer with the saw. As the series continues, and more of the world is shown, I hope to see more variety in the sets.

...Or we can just get more of whatever the hell this is.
…Or we can just get more of whatever the hell this is.

“Fist Like a Bullet” is an improvement over “The Fort”. It has better action, more compelling plot, and has a focus on The Widow, the most interesting character so far, but it also does nothing to solve the last episode’s problems. Sunny’s relationship with Quinn still makes little sense and M.K.’s clear James Bond-esque mystique still eludes me while he uses it to charm everyone around him. Into the Badlands still has a long way to go if it wants to achieve more than just decent TV.

Going Into the Badlands: Episode 1 Review

Despite it’s attempts to advertise otherwise, Into the Badlands is not just weekly, hour-long kung fu sessions. It has a story, but I think I know why AMC attempted to hide that. The story is nothing spectacular as of yet: it’s a fairly standard post-apocalyptic fare, several feudal warlords, a morally ambiguous main character who’s become desensitized to killing, bandits and a kid sidekick. Nothing you wouldn’t find in Mad Max, Fist of the North Star or the like. The producers perhaps attempted to hide this by making the story dash off like an Olympic sprinter. A lot happens in this first episode which, considering Into the Badlands has only six episodes planned, is not a bad thing in itself; however, when it skimps over most of what provides context and development to character relationships and plot, it creates problems.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wNIOtYvIaTI]

Great fight scenes are hard to do consistently on live action television. The most obvious reason is money; it’s just not reasonable to expect a weekly, serialized show to compete with what Hollywood takes several years to accomplish. Another good reason is just how much of it you’d have to produce, with the expectation from the audience of maintaining its quality from week to week. A movie has a certain amount of action scenes and can put as much time as it wants into each one as a result. Regardless of the inherent difficulties it faces, Into the Badlands promises to deliver on it’s kung fu-ery and has focused almost all of it’s pre-release advertisement on it’s action sequences. Now the series premiere , “The Fort,” is here and it’s time to put its lack of money where its mouth is.

It’s not long before the show gives us what we came for. The main character, Sunny (Daniel Wu), gets into a big fight with a bunch of bad dudes over a chest on which their leader is sitting. Unfortunately, the fight is less “cool” and more of a terrible version of a “Jackie Chan” movie. Now, I love a good Jackie Chan comedy fight scene as much as the next guy, but the sequence here lacks the energy Jackie Chan movies have. The entire fight takes place in an open woodland area with only a few trees and as such, it relies completely on the choreography in the actual fighting to be fun. However, the choreography is about as reliable as a pain killer addict locked in a pharmacy.

Sunny is the only character of the scene who doesn’t just throw himself around, so he’s basically pulling all the weight for the duration of the fight. There’s no sense of tension because Sunny clearly outclasses his opponents. As a result, the scene meanders between a few cool moves on Sunny’s part (flipping the bandit leader into the spike in the fire pit was a definite plus), until it just ends and goes straight to a highly stylized opening theme segment—wish the previous scene looked like this. The fight is made outright silly by laughable special effects, like the blood spray when one of the bandits is impaled with his own spear. Silly is okay, but this scene is taken too seriously for the inherent comedy that comes out.

Seeing Sunny literally plant a guy’s face in the ground was pretty cool though.

My low expectations for the following action after the first fight scene were raised quite a bit. Almost all the problems from the first fight scene were not present here; the flat woods is replaced by a New Orleans style town. This allows for more interesting camera work and more stuff for Sunny to jump off of as he fights bowler-hat-wearing assassins. Said assassins actually fight back and the sight of them and Sunny, the Chinese Neo, bouncing off cars, through buildings, and in shadow, all on a rainy night proves to be a very exhilarating experience.

Into the Badlands Episode 1 Screenshot 2015-11-18 20-37-56

The scene never holds on one thing for too long. Sunny and an assassin crash through a window, fight while the camera captures only their silhouettes clashing, and then in the next moment they seamlessly break out another window and continue the fight outside. This sense of flow prevents the battle from becoming stale. While the silliness from the first scene is still intact—hence the bowler-hat swordsmen—it works much better here with the new location. The bad special effects aren’t as apparent either, due to the night and the rain. Blood is still here, but with no ketchup-pack-splatter effects that look like they were edited in, over the actual characters.

The fight gives us many interesting perspective shots that flow smoothly with the action on screen.
The fight gives us many interesting perspective shots that flow smoothly with the action on screen.

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One of the biggest issues with “The Fort” is the relationship between Sunny and M. K. ( Aramis Knight), a child Sunny brings back to Baron Quinn (Marton Csokas). Sunny is built up as having gone through an intense brainwashing, and is being molded into a killing machine that is blindly loyal to Quinn. Within a few days, however, Sunny goes against the baron and sets M.K. free. Very little time is spent showing the two becoming acquainted, so it makes very little sense when Sunny chooses to sympathize with this one random kid over the dozens of other ones, who have been brainwashed also. This inconsistency also undermines Baron Quinn as a villain, showing that apparently he can’t even command obedience from his most valuable, brainwashed minion. That being said, the episode does discuss Baron Quinn’s diminishing influence among the other barons, and his son comments that Quinn is getting soft. Perhaps the depiction of Quinn as some sort of failing war lord is intentional.

Most of the characters fall flat due to relatively lifeless acting. Daniel Wu seems confused as to what emotion he’s supposed to be showing in most of his scenes. Oliver Stark portrays Ryder (Quinn’s son), while also doing his best Robert Pattinson impersonation. Aramis Knight, playing M.K., is just kinda there. Marton Csokas easily has the most presence in the show as Baron Quinn, but even he doesn’t go nearly outrageous enough with his plantation owner accent. I think a fair comparison can be drawn between Kill Bill and Into the Badlands as they both go for a tongue-in-cheek style kung-fu tone, with a large focus on extended action-set pieces. Kill Bill ends up doing the job right by having a cast of zany characters, with actors who can actually bring that zaniness out.

Woman and man sitting together
Sunny’s girlfriend is no better. Thankfully, this was limited to one short scene.

Now, some people may claim that it’s unfair to expect Hollywood level acting ability from a syndicated television show, but then those same people need to remember other AMC shows: The Bryan Cranston Variety Hour, also know as Breaking Bad. If nothing else, Breaking Bad set the bar for the level of acting we can expect from our television, and it’s a lot higher than what’s on display here. Sorry Into the Badlands, maybe if you had been released a few years earlier this could be forgiven, but you came out in a post-Cranston zeitgeist, so aim higher.

“The Fort” was not devoid of quality, outside the second fight. I genuinely like the setting, mixing a deep south aesthetic with a post-apocalyptic one is a unique idea. I hope to see more environments such as the town where Sunny meets The Widow, one of the other barons.

Baron Quinn's domain does a great job of melding deep south and kung-fu aesthetics
Baron Quinn’s domain does a great job of melding deep south and kung-fu aesthetics

It also did a good job of setting up the rules of the universe and how the characters factor into it. Hidden behind the wooden acting are some fairly interesting characters as well. I was glad to see that Ryder wasn’t just the typical evil heir to his father’s throne, who would throw anyone under the bus if it meant taking power sooner. Ryder seems to legitimately care about his father’s well-being, proven by his conversation with Sunny after Quinn takes Sunny’s advice against making a move against the other barons. He doesn’t talk with disdain towards either Sunny or Quinn. Ryder simply wants Sunny to recognize that Quinn’s diminishing influence among the other barons makes him overly susceptible to suggestion from his trusted assassin.

The first episode of Into the Badlands was decent. It has a metric ton of glaring flaws, but its good parts keep it from becoming too boring. I’m worried about the acting becoming a consistent problem for the rest of the show. I don’t see how it will get resolved unless everyone just decides to start being a good actor—or everyone is replaced by Bryan Cranston. The second action scene proves Alfred Gough and Miles Millar know how to direct a competent fight scene, so at the very least, I have confidence that Into the Badlands will continue to deliver on only thing it promises.