Japanese Spider-Man

It's Spider-Man, it's Japanese and it's crazy as a shark's knee:




Thanks to Phil for pointing this madness out to me.

Watchmen: Bigger, Louder and Uncut

I went to see Watchmen last night.

As a somewhat obsessive fan of the original comic book (alright then, graphic novel), I expected this to be something of a Manichean moviegoing experience. I'd leave the theatre either loving or hating the film, hailing Zack Snyder as a cinematic genius or denouncing him as the New Schumacher. Like the moral standpoint of Rorschach, one of the anti-heroes from the film (alright then, motion picture), there would be no middle ground, no compromise.

That was yesterday. Now, I'm not too sure.

My good friend Phil likened the film to the Ludovico technique, that fictitious aversion therapy from Clockwork Orange in which Malcolm McDowell's Alex was forced to watch a barrage of lurid, violent images with his eyes prised open. Watchmen was two hours and forty minutes of relentless sensory overload which made me feel happy, annoyed, ecstatic, angry, gleeful and perplexed and often all at the same time. It's also left me feeling a bit like Malcolm McDowell.

I'm still trying to process it now. Like Schrödinger's Cat - which is both alive and dead at the same time - I find myself simultaneously loving and hating Zack Snyder's Watchmen. I'll try to write something more coherent once my neurology settles down.

Or I might just go to see it again.

Nite Owl and his Amazing Friends

Re-reading the Watchmen

As you might have already noticed, the Watchmen movie comes out this week. Unlike most online commentators with geekazoid tendancies, I'll try my best to reserve judgement on the film until I've actually seen the damn thing. Whether I end up loving it film or loathing it, at least it's given me an excuse to re-read Alan Moore & Dave Gibbons' original comic series for the umpteenth time:

"Moe Vernon was a man around fifty-five or so, and he had one of those old New York faces that you don't see anymore. It's funny, but certain faces seem to go in and out of style. You look at old photographs and everybody has a certain look to them, almost as if they're related. Look at pictures from ten years later and you can see that there's a new kind of face starting to predominate, and that the old faces are fading away and vanishing, never to be seen again."

I first read Watchmen when it was released as a 12 issue series between 1986-7. A lot of things have changed since then, but it's still my favourite comic.

Preamble for a Pram

We're off to Hull tomorrow to get a pram.

Did I mention that I'm going to be a dad? Oh, it seems I didn't. Well, Clare's pregnant and our baby is due in April, so that's why we're off to Hull tomorrow to get a pram.

The reason why I didn't mention this monumental, life-changing, most-important-thing-to-ever-happen-to-me-in-my-life event any sooner than this is because I wanted to tell people about it in person. By the time I finally got around to doing that, however, Clare had already started a pregnancy blog. She's doing such a damn fine job of it that I felt somewhat ill-equipped to discuss our shared experiences on here. Instead, I decided to stick to the subjects I know best, namely, popular culture, low humour and saucy limericks.

The reason why we're going to Hull to get a pram is because we bought it from someone on Ebay who lives in Hull. It's a long way to go to get a pram, I guess, but it does give me the chance to revisit my old stomping ground. I spent three very-fondly remembered years at Hull University, so tomorrow will give me the opportunity to give Clare and Lily a guided tour of my past. No doubt I'll still be writing blog posts about it six months from now.

Anyway, the pram is a black Quinny Buzz and it looks something like this:


As Clare observed, it has "a certain Batmobile-ness about it..."

Being somewhat clueless when it comes to babies, prams and most practical matters, I was surprised to discover that the Quinny Buzz isn't just an ordinary pram: it's a pram that can change into a pushchair. That's impressive - to me, at least. A pram that can change into a pushchair, a pushchair that can change into a pram. I didn't know that sort of thing was possible.

I've already started calling it 'Optimus Pram'.

The Double-Bill Divide

The tuxes have been returned to their wardrobes, the dresses have been handed back to their designers and - if there's any justice in the world - some underpaid catering temps are now swigging down whatever's left of the overpriced champagne. That pompous orgy of self-congratulatory excess that's otherwise known as the 81st Academy Awards is now officially over and I, for one, am glad to see the back of it.

It wasn't such a good night for Mickey Rourke, of course. Despite all the rumours and speculation beforehand he didn't walk away with the Best Actor award. Was F. Scott Fitzgerald right when he said "There are no second acts in American lives"? Maybe, maybe not. You'd have to ask him. If you had to ask me, I'd say that the Academy judges have never really forgiven Rourke for Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man. Can't say I blame them.

But let's not feel too sorry for Rourke. He may look as odd as a shark's knee, but at least he got a nomination. That's more than some actors could ever hope for. Lets spare a thought, then, for that class of screen performer who will never get the opportunity to raise that famous gold geezer, blubber like an idiot and Thank the Academy. They're the forgotten few, they're Hollywood's underclass, the people the Oscar judges would like us to forget.

They are, of course, the kings and queens of straight-to-video action movies.

Jean-Claude Van Damme. Steven Seagal. Chuck Norris. Cynthia Rothrock. Dolph Lundgren. Their names have launched hundreds of "high-octane action extravaganzas." Their fists have bust a thousand faces. They often do their own stunts. And yet, not one of these people has ever received an Academy Award nomination. To the Oscar judges they're no better than ex-porn stars or struggling screenwriters. If they ever got invited to the Academy Awards it'd probably be in order to beef-up the security, or possibly sweep up the stage.

The gap between the Oscar-hopefuls and the Oscar-hopeless has never seemed greater. There seems to be an unbreachable celuloid ceiling that divides the Academy-sanctioned A-Listers and the stars of such classics as Kickboxer 2 and Red Scorpion. But is that really the case? By embracing the methodology of the popular movie geek parlour game Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon - in which an elaborate daisychain of film roles and co-stars is constructed between actors - it soon becomes apparent that the gap between the Kates, Brads and Angelinas of this world and the Chucks, Dolphs and Jean-Claudes is narrower than you might think.

In fact, they're rarely more than two films apart...

Kate Winslet and Dolph Lundgren

She starred in the most successful movie of all-time, has been Oscar-nominated no less than five times and was the winner of this year's Academy Award for Best Actress; he is the star of such classics as The Punisher, Dark Angel and Universal Soldier. What possible connection could there be?

Well, Winslet appeared 2005's Romance and Cigarettes alongside Christopher Walken, who appeared in crap 80s Bond-flick A View To A Kill with Dolph Lundgren.


Sean Penn and Chuck Norris

Penn is a left-wing political activist who won his second Best Actor Oscar in this year's ceremony. Norris is a right-wing political activist who has won countless martial arts trophies. Penn was once married to Madonna, while Norris looks better with a beard.

Sean Penn appeared in Barry Levinson's What Just Happened (2008) alongside Mark Ivinir, who appeared in the 2005 direct-to-DVD Chuck Norris flick, The Cutter.

Meryl Streep and Cynthia Rothrock

Meryl Streep has won the Best Actress Oscar on two separate occasions (for Kramer vs Kramer in 1979 and Sophie's Choice in 1983) and has been nominated by the Academy a staggering 13 times. She is considered by many to be the finest actress of her generation. Cynthia Rothrock is the star of China O'Brien, Irrisistible Force and Lady Dragon. She is considered by many to be the finest martial artist to appear in China O'Brien, Irrisistible Force and Lady Dragon.

Meryl Streep appeared in the 2004 remake of The Manchurian Candidate which also featured Darrell Larson; he appeared in Eye for an Eye (1996) alongside Cynthia Rothrock.


Brad Pitt and Jean-Claude Van Damme

Jean Claude Van Damme is known as 'The Muscles from Brussels' because of his well-toned physique and the fact he was born in Berchem-Sainte-Agathe district of Brussels; Brad Pitt has never had a colourful nickname or kick-ass sobrqiuet because he's so famous he doesn't need one. (And he was born in Shawnee, Oklahoma, which doesn't rhyme with anything.)

Pitt was Oscar-nominated for David Fincher's The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, which also featured Elton LeBlanc, who appeared in the Van Damme's 2007 actioner, Until Death.


Angelina Jolie and Steven Seagal

What can be said about Angelina Jolie that hasn't been said in countless supermarket tabloids? How about this:

Angelina Jolie appeared as herself in 2008's Confessions of an Action Star which also featured Peter Jason; he appeared in the 1996 Seagal actioner The Glimmer Man.


Philip Seymour Hoffman and Christopher Lambert

The first is a highly-respected charactor best known for his powerful, nuanced portrayals of often complex characters; the second is best known for his powerful, nuanced portrayal of a decapitation-averse, dubiously-accented Scotsman in the Highlander movie series.

Hoffman appeared in Todd Solondz Happiness (1998) alongside Jon Lovitz, who appeared in Richard Kelly's Southland Tales (2006) alongside Christopher Lambert.



Finally, I'd like to pass on a personal message to Oscar-nominated Frank Langella. Dolph sends his regards. He thought your performance as Tricky Dicky in Ron Howard's Frost/Nixon was "really good" and he's sorry to hear you didn't get an Oscar.

But never mind, eh? You'll always be his Skeletor.


(Thanks to The Oracle of Bacon and its handy movie-link finder for making this post far less labour-intensive than it might otherwise have been.)

11-11-11: Aston Lane

Am 11. November 2008 Clare und ich verbrachten einige Stunden circumnavigating die Stadt von Birmingham auf dem Bus der Nr. 11. Dieses wasn' t unsere Idee, verstehen Sie. Eher war es das Geistesprodukt der Jon Bounds der erstaunlichen Brum-gegründeten Web site Birmingham: It' s Nicht Schit.


Birchfield Library

At about 2.30pm we leave Wellington Road and cross the Perry Barr roundabout on Birchfield Road. Although I'm no stranger to this area, this is an odd approach for me. I regularly drive along the Birchfield Road, but I usually take the underpass that runs beneath the traffic island. Here's a picture of the underpass from when it was under construction in 1961, courtesy of Digital Handsworth:


That's The Old Crown and Cushion pub in the background, which has changed a lot since then. Luckily the underpass has too, otherwise it'd be a bugger to drive through.

One of the advantages of seeing the world from the front seat of the top deck of a number 11 bus is that you get to witness all the juicy street level stuff you'd normally miss while driving through underpasses and along flyovers. That's why I'm surprised to see that the library that used to sit on the corner of Birchfield Road and Aston Lane has now been demolished, and that's why I say out loud (and a bit too loudly): "Where the fuck did that go?"

Someone sitting behind me lets out an audible tut. As we're sitting on the front seat, "someone sitting behind me" hardly narrows it down, so I let it pass.

Maybe I'm too sensitive about these things, but there's something about the sight of a demolished library building that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Didn't this country once take a moral stand against a cruel and evil regime that was more than a tad partial to burning books? If so, then how can we turn a blind eye and let such wanton acts of anti-intellectualism escalate on our own doorstep? I imagine it's because we're all too busy driving through the underpasses and along the flyovers of life.

Let's just hope that all the books got out in one piece.


Tufnol Factory, Aston Lane

At Aston Lane the bus stops for what seems like seventeen years. As the Wellhead Lane depot is nearby, I assume that the bus has to change drivers, the driver has to take a leak or the leak has to change buses.

I notice an elderly couple get on board. The man is wearing an Edwardian-looking suit, sporting a pair of jam jar glasses and bears an uncanny resemblance to the great Irish writer James Joyce. I can't say whether his companion resembles Joyce's wife and muse Nora Barnacle, but that's only because I can't remember what Nora Barnacle looked like.

Along Aston Lane, on the corner of Wellhead Lane, we pass the Tufnol factory. Tufnol, in case you don't know, is a firm based in Birmingham and Glasgow who have been producing rods, sheets and other laminated plastic products for over 70 years. The reason why I know this is because my Uncle Eddie used to work there. Uncle Eddie was one of my favourite people in the world. He had a sense of humour was as dry as a sand sandwich and he always made sure that my family were never short of rods, sheets and other laminated plastic products. I miss him.

As we pass the Tufnol factory I realise that it's been years' since I last travelled along Aston Lane. That's why I'm quite surprised to see a massive, new 24 hour Tesco Superstore, and that's why I say out loud (and a bit too loudly): "Where the fuck did that come from?"

Someone sitting behind me lets out an audible tut.

I think it might be James Joyce.