Little Fockers

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I think the most misleading thing about Little Fockers is the title, in that, while present, the Focker children are never quite the focus of the story like you might expect. It’s like… okay, you know how Anton Chekhov[1] said that if you see a gun on the mantel in act one of a play, it had better be fired by act three? This is like that play, in that there the children are on the metaphorical mantel, and in fact they get used in all sorts of ways. But, and here is my point, Anton Chekhov was not talking about a play named The Gun. See? They are a means to several different ends, but never once an actual focus. Maybe lots of movie titles work this way, and I just generally disregard them?

Anyway, though, the plot: a couple of movies ago, Ben Stiller married a blonde chick that I’ve only really seen in these movies, the result of which is that Robert De Niro and Dustin Hoffman get to be in-laws, and Stiller and De Niro have formed an uneasy truce. But all kinds of small troubles (child-raising, finances, sex lives, home renovations) lead to a renewal of the same hostilities between the two leading men that have been the theme of the entire series, and it’s impossible to avoid an unpleasant sense of déjà vu[2].  Especially when the flick itself is only mildly chuckle-worthy for the first two acts. Still, it eventually does get to be pretty amusing, though whether this was because my defenses were gradually worn down or they really did save the best for last is highly debatable.

Jessica Alba’s by now ubiquitous lingerie shot isn’t worth the price of admission, but it at least lets you convince yourself it was worth the time spent. …and if you know it won’t let you do that, I can safely say this is not the movie for you.

[1] Probably, but maybe someone else; in any event, not Samuel Clemens.
[2] Will they form a new uneasy truce by the end of this one? At what point does the terminology get downgraded to détente?

Lucifer: Evensong

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The fundamental story being told in the Lucifer series was over at the conclusion of the previous book, which is as it should be.  I have realized while reading Evensong and contemplating my review of it that how a story ends matters to me a great deal. I mean, certain series which I read for the sake of humor and masochism (and am probably overdue on another entry from) aside, the ongoing story will need to be good for me to care about it at all. But the dividing line between the merely competently entertaining and the sublime that will stay with me for years ahead? The strength of the ending will almost certainly be the surest tell.

All that to say that I feel like the strength of this ending is the closest Carey has come in his quest[1] to match Gaiman’s Sandman. It hit all the right notes of regret, yearning for more but acceptance that the wind has blown an ending, tying some loose ends while leaving others conspicuously unknotted… it was an end, is what I mean, and what I also mean is that I really don’t see one that satisfies me all that often.[2] I can tell when I dislike them, as evidenced by everything I’ve read by Dan Simmons, but the ability to recognize that I actively like one and it has really added to my opinion of the whole? That is a new gift that I’ll enjoy all the more for getting to talk about it. It also explains why I like ongoing series as well as I do. With no end in sight, the let down is all but impossible. And then there are some series that make a conscious choice not to end, which may work pretty well or not, depending on who you are. (It’s such a massive spoiler that I can’t even mention what series I’m talking about, though it wouldn’t be a spoiler to say I believe the Wheel of Time will head in the same direction. I mean, that spoiler is right in the name.)

Anyway, clever readers will note I’ve spent almost no time talking about this book, and that’s a feature since it being both a grand denouement and an eleventh volume makes it tricky to say anything that wouldn’t be a spoiler for, at the least, earlier books in the series. But I will reiterate again (once per paragraph, yo!) that it was entirely satisfying, and I don’t really regret that there won’t be more to come. Which is maybe the highest praise I can pay any series, even though in another context it could be the lowest insult. Still, the difference between the two is clear!

[1] I suppose I should not ascribe to him motivations that aren’t in evidence, but despite one of the points of the series being that filial obligations… chafe, I can’t believe he spent no time comparing his work to the one it sprang from.
[2] Did I just restate my topic sentence? MAYBE.

Resident Evil – Code: Veronica – Book One

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Did you ever find yourself wishing that someone would write a manga-style graphic novel that comprised a blend of two parts recap to one part walkthrough of a game that was first released for the Sega Dreamcast? If so, your troublingly narrow desire has been granted in the Resident Evil – Code: Veronica series, which… well, I’ve pretty much said all that there is to say about it, haven’t I? Still, you may be wondering exactly why I’d have bothered to own and read such a thing my own self, to which I can only respond that a) I wasn’t aware of the strategy-guide-like feel of the book until I read it today[1] and b) I never did actually finish the game itself, one of the very few Resident Evil games for which that is the case (well, besides the last couple, but I was much better at it in The Past, is what I’m saying), so it will be nice to have the knowledge gap plugged in.

In case you’re wondering, the manga thing is, while largely distasteful, not a bar to entry.

[1] Seriously, it included a couple of the “take this crest to that recessed panel to unlock the next area” puzzles, not to mention an honest-to-god green herb.

Naamah’s Curse

Have I mentioned how frustrated I am by my inability to find the place on an Amazon product page where I can click that I own it and then rate it? It used to be invisible just from some browsers, but now it’s invisible from basically all of them[1] (unless it’s actually gone), and either way, I like them being able to take my ownership and tastes into account when recommending things, and how can they take them into account if they will not let me show said tastes and ownerships them?[2] Not, tragically, that I would be giving Naamah’s Curse a particularly high rating.

I mean, throughout the long life of the series, it has been exactly the kind of thing I go for. Travelogue fantasy in which the heroes go from place to place, exploring new cultures and solving new puzzles: I’ve been reading it since David Eddings first launched the quest for a blue rock, and despite intra-authorial repetitiveness and the increasingly rare inter-authorial ability to provide a unique new take on the genre, I’ve never not enjoyed myself. Which, lest you take me the wrong way, applies here too. It’s just getting harder to enjoy myself in this particular case when it feels less like travelogue fantasy and more like authorial insertion in order to decry the evils of fundamentalist Christianity and the Hindi caste system. Still, it’s not entirely bad by any means, and none of the bad parts were screed-like; the anvils were just a little too heavy as they landed upon my head, is all. Still, I think Moirin may go to America in the next book, and maybe that will be pretty cool?

[1] I have admittedly not checked Opera or, um, the text-based one whose name I forget.
[2] Oh LOL-cat constructed speech, why must you be so awkward to adapt to conversational English?

Moon

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Since I didn’t get Moon through Netflix, I really should have taken my opportunity to skip this review. I mean, it’s the kind of movie where knowing as little as possible is the best, and that makes it hard for me to mention the pure highlight that elevates it above other similarly-constructed movies that we’ve seen in the past, of which 2001 is certainly the most obvious. And yet, it’s a movie that I first heard about on Thursday, and managed to see on Sunday through no great expansion of effort, while gathering that basically every other person on the planet had not only heard of it but really liked it. (Well, almost everyone for that last point.) And so I feel obligated to say something about it, just because it was such a common thread of my weekend.

So, what happens is this: an energy corporation is strip-mining the dark side of the moon for a hydrogen isotope that can power over 75% of the world’s energy needs. (Or it might have been helium, but hydrogen makes a lot more sense, and really we’d have the same story if it had been unobtanon, so stop being so damn picky!) And they’ve got this moon base built that mostly runs itself, including the harvesters roaming around, and all that really needs doing is minor outdoor repair work and also the collection and launching of the hydrogen tubes once they’ve gotten full, for which they have hired Sam Bell for a three year tour of duty. The part where he’s alone except for GERTY, the helpful base computer/tethered robot, wouldn’t be too bad except that satellite links for live relay to earth are down, so he only gets communication with his bosses and family at about the rate of USPS letters. But he fills his time with old television[1] and craft-work and other such pursuits, and anyway, it’s only two more weeks until his tour ends and he gets to go home. Too bad he’s started to hallucinate. …or has he???

And anything after that, even the part I want to praise, even a discussion of theme beyond my willingness to say I think they did a good job there, would be way too much spoiler. So I’ll stop here and only recommend that if you’ve got a lazy Sunday afternoon and a craving for humanist sci-fi, this is a good place to go. (The movie, not the actual moon, which has been strip-mined something ugly, let me tell you.)

[1] If I wanted to pick a part of the movie that was kind of horrible, it’s that the two TV shows that made it on screen were Bewitched and The Mary Tyler Moore Show, both of which took me right out of the moment by triggering the realization that they picked their shows based on what would be cheap to get the rights to from TV Land or whoever owns them now, instead of what someone in a near-future setting would likely be interested in. I mean, geeze, at least Cheers or Cosby or Friends, guys!

Skyline (2010)

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Sometimes, when a movie is universally panned, there’s a reason for it.

Skyline is another in a recent series of alien invasion stories that are told at the personal ground level, rather than with sweeping majesty like Independence Day was back when it re-opened the genre for public consumption. If you imagine War of the Worlds or Cloverfield, you are definitely on the right track. Aside from incidental plot and character arc divergences, these are all three (along with several others I could probably think of if I paused to do so) basically the same movie. So, what makes Skyline stand out? The first thing is the characters; every single one of these ranges between (at the high end) uninteresting and seedily unlikeable.[1] The second thing is the plot, which, after establishing that the Aliens are Here! and People are in Danger!, effectively goes nowhere at all for the rest of the movie, up to and including a conclusion that I can only presume was meant to by heart-warmingly thought-provoking, or perhaps vice versa. The third thing is… well, look, if you need a third thing, it’s because you are more forgiving of badness in movies than I am, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never met the person that fits this description.

[1] I should say that David Zayas, who I hope you will recognize as Angel Batista on Dexter, really wanted his character to be likable, but the script simply wouldn’t allow it.

Black Swan (2010)

An interesting thing about Black Swan is how many different potential movies are crammed into its actuality. For instance, there’s a not particularly compelling ballet movie in it, which is sad when you consider how much effort Natalie Portman told Terry Gross that she put into training for the physical aspects of the part. And then there’s a somewhat formulaic suspense thriller in which Portman vies with ballet company newcomer Mila Kunis for the dubious affections of the company’s French artistic director as well as the lead in the first show of the season, Swan Lake, while a tragically underutilized Winona Ryder looks on from the sidelines as the cast-aside prima ballerina from seasons past. And if you’re getting the impression so far that I found it okay at best, you’re right up to a point; I would have been pretty disappointed if I had been watching either of those two movies.

The movie that I was watching, which I more or less loved, was a psychological study of an obsessive mind pushed to the brink of utter collapse under a myriad of internal and external pressures. And I don’t want to say more than that, because it made for utterly compelling watching as each element unfolded. I’ve been on record in the past as approving of unreliable narrators in fiction. I think this is the first time I’ve seen one on film that wasn’t eye-rollingly bad; to the contrary, I hope Portman earns some awards over the next few months.

The Steerswoman

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The thing is, I finished this book days ago, and by that, I mean too many days ago. I’ve had tons of entertainments and about two-thirds of the next book since then, and I’m more sad at myself for failing to come to here than I’d normally be just for running behind. And that is because I liked it a lot better than the quality of this review will reflect. Still, this is the reality I’ve got, so I’ll do what I can.

The Steerswoman is the first book in a series about, y’know, steerswomen. (Mostly, though there are a few steersmen.) And the steerswomen are dedicated to knowledge. Gathering it, using it, disseminating it freely. And… but that right there is the thing. I started the book following Rowan’s adventures without any idea how the world worked, what the blue gemstones she was researching meant, or even why the wizards and the steerswomen are so strongly at odds. Truth be told, I still don’t know the answers to all of those questions. But watching the layers of the worldbuilding onion slowly peel back was every bit as entertaining as the unfolding of the actual plot. So I am forced to stop here, and add only that it’s a good book in a fantastic world that I want to excavate more thoroughly.

Best of all, I managed to not tell the story of why I finally started reading the series, which means I get to use it in a future review!

Marvel Zombies vs. Army of Darkness

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You know that something has become a bona fide phenomenon[1] when it starts generating its own spin-offs. Not that Marvel wasn’t already a phenomenon, but the Ultimate series and 1602 and Marvel Zombies are the kind of thing I’m talking about here. Or when Cheers spawned Frasier. So, but obviously I’m really talking about comics, and specifically still about Marvel Zombies. Because what I would not have expected was for the important people at Marvel (by whom I guess I mean Joe Quesada, but who can keep track?) to already have spawned yet another alternate earth, just slightly different from the one where the interstellar zombie plague arose in the first place, in which to insert Ash from the Evil Dead series, as portrayed by an extremely young Bruce Campbell, and let him and the Necronomicon take on the ravening heroic hordes. I mean, really?

That said, if you like Marvel Zombies and you like Ash, you will definitely like this book. He fits in surprisingly well, and everyone’s reactions to him (disdain or disgust, for the most part) really felt pitch perfect to me. And yet his charmed existence keeps him going far longer than any mortal human in the Marvel universe has a right to, even before the zombie thing is a factor. But mostly, this is a laugh. Here’s the way I can tell the author knew exactly what book he was writing, in four words: Howard the goddamn Zombie Duck.

[1] I am not endorsing this outcome, only observing it.

Powers: Little Deaths

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I am still trying to work my way through my reactions to the third volume in the Powers series. We’ve previously been introduced to the world and its concepts quite well, so by now the interactions between the main cop, his new partner[1], and the superhero-related crimes they investigate are comfortably old hat. And the stories in the book (big hero dies in a way that reveals salacious sexual peccadilloes; smalltime hero and villain conspire to make their comebacks) are quite good. Yet, I found myself really disappointed with it.

And the why? I feel like I’m being unfair, with the massive amount of monthly comics from the early ’70s I’m reading right now that are frequently guilty of this and yet I never give a second thought about it there. But, my problem with Little Deaths is that nothing new happens. Did I learn anything new about the world? Not that I can tell. Was an important new character introduced that I need to keep an eye on? It’s always possible, but I don’t believe it. Detectives Walker and Pilgrim entertained me as always, but no new facet of their characters or relationship was revealed. It seems ridiculous to complain about a comic book being more like cotton candy than steak, but it turns out that I’ve come to expect substantive new material from any given book, and today I simply didn’t get that. Oh well. At least I learned Olympia (who I hadn’t heard of until he died) has a thing for redheads? Useful!

[1] Although I say it that way, I kind of think that Deena Pilgrim is the character best suited as stand-in for the audience and therefore the actual main character of the series. The probably-cancelled The Good Guys on Fox does the same thing, though without superheroes. Still, I’m not sure how to refer to a rookie cop and his experienced partner, since the X and new Y flows so much better.