Posts Tagged ‘david s. goyer’

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Not a Twinkie

October 1, 2013

Man of Steel screenwriter Davis S. Goyer took advantage of the lull before a new Bat-trilogy Blu-ray (new packaging or something) to remind us all that Superman kills now.   The notion that he wouldn’t is “a rule that exists outside of the narrative.”

Let’s cross the street where they’re not quite so confused, shall we?  A couple weeks ago, a friend sent me this great trailer for Lego Marvel Superheroes.  I’m not a Marvel, I’ve never particularly clicked with their characters, but watching this just makes me feel good:

I think it’s the same reason I enjoy the Marvel movies.  It’s so unabashedly enthusiastic about being a superhero vehicle.

DR. DOOM:
Dr. Doom’s Doom-Ray of Doom

ORCHESTRAL HORNS:
BWOMG-BWOMMBWOMMM

This clip is fearless about standing center stage and bellowing out what it is.  Superheroes in Legos, the bad guys versus the good guys.  Nobody here is running away from it.  Nobody is ashamed of it or afraid of being silly.  Nobody is pretending this is serious fucking business.

Isn’t that refreshing?  I don’t think anything with Batman that I’ve seen in a decade has made me feel as good as this 2:05 of characters I don’t give a crap about.

As I was sitting there, fingers poised over my keyboard trying to find a way to express that succinctly in order to share the video on Facebook, I found myself looking at a Twinkie.

not-at-twinkie

Facebook being Facebook, I found myself looking at a Twinkie

Maybe it was the history of those old time Hostess ads in comic books, when the heroes distracted the villains with delicious cakes and fruit pies.  Maybe it’s the fact that Twinkies were out of production for a while there and their return was announced right after Man of Steel, prompting more than a few comments that if they’d only come back sooner, Zod could have been handled the old-fashioned way and all that destruction porn could have been avoided.

Whatever the chain of associations, it led to an analogy that can explain the divide in superhero comics and movies.  I find food analogies cut through so much faux intellectual B.S.  You can convince otherwise intelligent people of a lot of absolute nonsense using phrases like “a rule that exists outside of the narrative,” until you apply the principles to something they understand on such a basic level as food.  Maybe you don’t know why the Miller apologist is wrong, maybe you don’t know how to construct the counterargument, but once you get that applying those principles amounts to serving bleu cheese and chopped liver on a Triscuit for Christmas dinner, you do know that is a really bad idea.  Whether you can articulate the reason or not, you’re gagging.  You know there has to be something very, very wrong in any chain of the logic that ends in this being a tolerable plan.  You know you’re not going to serve it to your kids, no matter what argument it makes or how big its advertising budget.  It’s a part of our make-up they haven’t broken: if it makes you wretch, don’t eat it.

So, back to the Twinkie.  Is there anybody reading this who doesn’t know what they are?  Sweet yellow cake with a white, sweet cream filling that may or may not be vanilla-ish flavored.  It’s a kid’s food, most of us ate them and remember them fondly.  There were knock-offs and generics.  There are also some very prestigious restaurants that have made a gourmet version.  (Think champagne cake with a filling of blancmange infused with vanilla and cognac) and less prestigious ones serving up the traditional twink deep-fried, a substance so orgasmically sweet and rich it became an analogy for… well never mind. They’re good.

Now here’s the thing, if none of that sounds good to you, then you don’t like Twinkies.  It’s okay, none of us are judging you.  For most humans, sweet is the first set of taste buds to develop.  We go for it and it’s nature’s way of telling us: eat the berry not the bark.  But if for whatever reason you don’t like sweets, then you don’t like Twinkies.

Superheroes, like Twinkies, are certain things.  They’re fun.  There is humor and color and life in their stories.  Even when there’s angst and horror, it gets broken up with a little f-ing fun.  Burton knew it.  Schumacher absolutely knew it.  He made the worst goddamn Twinkie any of us have ever seen, but it WAS a Twinkie.

Print comics have succeeded in convincing what politicians call “the base” that Twinkies don’t have to be sweet, they don’t have to be made of cake or have cream filling, and it is just so silly and childish and stunted to imagine they do.   And, as in politics, ideas that go beyond ‘completely wrong’ into the land of 2+2 = cream cheese nonsensical can be accepted inside these little bubbles of true believers, but they run into trouble when they come out here into the real world where reality is in play.   That’s why they have those names.

Is this just math that you do as a Republican to make yourself feel better or is this real?

Is this just math that you do as a Republican to make yourself feel better or is this real?

The DC movies have been serving up pickled coffee beans and calling them Twinkies.  They’re not, and those of you who cannot let an un-Nolan thought (or an un-Miller thought or an un-gogglewhore thought) pass without comment are not going to argue it into being one.  You like the pickled coffee beans, we get that.  Some of us do too on occasion.   I like bitter and I like sour from time to time.  But not in a Twinkie.  Those things are not Twinkies, no matter what it says on the box or how big a name the director is, how big the advertising budget is, or how you choose to belittle those who refuse to validate your delusion.

Originally published as Not a Twinkie on Blogger

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JLAin’t/West Wing Crossover was way ahead of its time

May 17, 2011

One of the most gratifying aspects of Cat-Tales has been the readers who found inspiration in it to write their own fanfic. The first to come along was MyklarCure with JLAin’t, the story of the Justice League in the Cat-Tales universe. And a few years later, a wonderfully talented reader named Nathan Perry came along who wrote a JLAin’t/West Wing crossover called These Hallowed Halls. Like a lot of fanfic, it was never finished, but what he wrote was way ahead of its time.

Consider the current controversy about Superman’s citizenship: Superman: American patriot, illegal immigrant or both? (via Hero Complex – Los Angeles Times)

Superman: American patriot, illegal immigrant or both? Ted Anthony of the Associated Press considers the legend — and the passport  — of Superman.  There is a scene in the 2006 movie “Superman Returns” that captures the fabled Man of Steel in an extraordinary moment. Floating high above the Earth, gazing down upon America, he listens with his super-hearing for cries of help as a cacop … Read More

via Hero Complex – Los Angeles Times

And then take a look at the exchange when Clark Kent asked White House press secretary C.J. Cregg about Superman’s status an illegal alien:

“Come in and have a seat, Mister Kent.” C.J. said, leading the tall reporter into her office.

“Isn’t it usually the Senior White House correspondent that gets these follow-ups?” Clark asked as he sat down.

C.J. sat behind her desk and answered, “It is, yes, but that’s because most of these guys have stopped trying to play ‘Stump C.J.’ Today, you’re our winner.”

“If you don’t mind my saying, this is a pretty strange beat,” Clark noted.

“Well you asked a pretty strange question.”

“It was a fair question.”

“It was absolutely not a fair question. No, we don’t have Superman’s birth certificate or driver’s license on record. He wasn’t born here and he’s got other ways of getting around. This is Superman! Truth, Justice and the American Way. We don’t care if he votes or pays his taxes. I would bet you any amount of money that he does, and since you’ve interviewed him, I don’t think you’d take that bet either.”

“I’m not really much for gambling-”

“The only reason to ask that question is either to embarrass Superman or to embarrass us, but you know what? We’re not embarrassed.” She stood up, placed her palms on her desk and leaned forward, saying, “We gave the Medal of Freedom to Superman, who may or may not be a U.S. citizen. And if he’s not? We don’t care. He’s an American hero whether he’s an American or not, and you can print all of that.” She sat back down and said, “If you’ve got follow-ups, you can ask them now.”

“I think that answered the question pretty well, Miss Cregg. Thank you.” He jotted down some notes on a pad of paper while C.J. stared across the desk at him.

Any questions?

Chris Dee
www.catwoman-cattales.com
cattales.yuku.com
cattales.wikispaces.com

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