Friday, August 23, 2013

Ender Bender 3: Chapter 2 "Peter"

Each chapter presents me with a new reason to laugh at Card's introductory reminiscence that he used to rewrite other people's scripts to punch up the dialogue. If this is what "punched up" looks like, I'd hate to see the untouched stuff.

"Peter" begins with another bit of at least two people talking without any clear indication of who they are. There's this bit:
"You just saw him beat the guts out of the leader of a gang."
"He was thorough. He didn't just beat him, he beat him deep. Like Mazer Rackham at the--"
"Beat the guts." "Beat him deep." I don't even know.


Anyway, we learn that the folks monitoring Ender through his...monitor...could experience his sensations first-hand, and that they haven't stopped monitoring him even now that it's been taken out. And then we get beaten over the head with one of the book's themes about adults:
"I like the kid. I think we're going to screw him up."
"Of course we are. It's our job. We're the wicked witch. We promise gingerbread, but we eat the little bastards alive."
GET IT?

Ender spends most of this chapter sharing a tender moment with his older siblings, brother Peter and sister Valentine. And by "tender moment," I mean "his brother is a psychopath who tries to murder him."

When I was younger, I read some of the Goosebumps books. Once I figured out the formula, I read a ton of Goosebumps books. I realized, in an early bit of critical thought, that every chapter in a Goosebumps book ended with an unnecessary scare moment, which (especially early on) turned out to be nothing. That meant that the vast majority of the middle of the book was just meandering you from one jump scare to another, without really advancing the plot. Which meant that you could read the first five or so chapters, skip to the last five or so chapters, and get the whole story. Once I figured that out, I could burn through a Goosebumps book in less than five minutes.

Chapter 2 makes Ender's Game feel like a Goosebumps book, except replace "jump scare moment" with "life-or-death battle." Chapter 3 breaks the streak (not to get too far ahead of myself), but if even 2/3 of the chapters in the book have a battle scene where someone tries to murder Ender, then I think it speaks a lot to how popular this novel is.

Peter's introduction to this chapter is great:
Peter walked into the parlor, chewing on a mouthful of bread and peanut butter.
"Chewing on a mouthful of bread and peanut butter" seems like the kind of thing that an alien or android would say to describe "eating a peanut butter sandwich." The flesh-thing moved its mouthparts to crush and moisten bread and peanut-butter for more efficient absorption.

Is...is Orson Scott Card just a racist homophobic android? Is he Hate-Bot 9000, built only to loathe? It would explain some things.

Peter is upset that Ender has apparently failed out of the monitoring program, and further breaks my suspension of disbelief that Card didn't know exactly what he was doing by using the word "bugger." He coerces Ender into a game of buggers and astronauts, and while Valentine expresses disapproval and tries to find adult supervision, she doesn't really do anything about it. It doesn't stop her from getting some verbal abuse:
"Keep your fat face out of it, fart mouth," said Peter.
Look, I realize that there are issues with making up slang and curse words for sci-fi franchises. Words like "grife" and "frak" and "frell" come off as cutesy and artificial. But seeing a kid from a century or so into the future call his sister "fart mouth" like he's a character in "The Sandlot" or something just feels anachronistic. I don't know exactly what names my dad called his little sister, or what names my great-grandfather called his little sister, but I suspect that they'd be very different from the names I would have used as a kid. It just rings false, and it took me way out of the story. And it'll take me way out of the story again and again.

And come on, "fart mouth"? At least go with "fart breath."

Peter gives Ender a bugger mask, and Ender spends a little time trying to get into the head of a bugger. That doesn't really help him when Peter knocks him down, steps on his crotch, and breaks kayfabe:
"I can see you for what you really are. They meant you to be a human, little Third, but you're really a bugger, and now it shows."
Again, Card had to know what "bugger" meant, right?

Anyway, Peter kneels on Ender, openly threatening to kill him and explaining how he'd get away with it, making it look like it was an accident from playing too roughly. Valentine, who has apparently been standing there the whole time, chimes in with the voice of reason:
"I'll tell," Valentine said from the doorway.
"No one would believe you."
"They'd believe me."
"Then you're dead, too, sweet little sister."
"Oh, yes," said Valentine. "They'll believe that. 'I didn't know it would kill Andrew. And when he was dead, I didn't know it would kill Valentine too.'"
I like her. Too bad she's apparently going to be absent from most of the rest of the book. Valentine's clearly the smart one here, having already planned ahead for what would happen if Peter killed her--or at least, bluffing well enough that Peter believes her. He tells her that she gets to be Ender's monitor now (GET IT?). And then they get into the most insufferable conversation ever, where Valentine actually says "We're all such wonderfully bright children," and Peter outlines how he's going to kill Ender and make Valentine feel bad about it, in a speech that reads like a first draft of Westley's "to the pain" speech in "The Princess Bride."

Then Valentine calls him an asshole. "The biggest asshole," in fact. It's a first-degree sick burn.

The one bit of this that rings true is the way that Peter flips it around to claim it was all a joke afterward, and how he was just manipulating them and they were so dumb to fall for it. That sounds like bully behavior. Ender, on the other hand, is basically a sociopath:
Ender stood there watching him laugh and thought of Stilson, thought of how it felt to crunch into his body. This is who needed it. This is who should have got it.
As if she could read his mind, Valentine whispered, "No, Ender."
I mean, I've been there. I've felt that impotent rage against a bigger, badder bully who delights in winding you up. The difference is that I didn't have superhuman strength and combat skills. I realize that that's what ticks this over into adolescent power fantasy, that Ender gets to be the kid that every victim of bullies wishes they were. The problem, to me, is the motivation and execution. Spider-Man and Superman get to play that wish-fulfillment role as well: Peter gets to humiliate Flash Thompson, Clark gets to turn Steve Lombard's pranks back around on him. If Ender were in their shoes, Flash and Steve would be dead, or only spared death by someone cooling off the hero's white-hot murderous fury.

I suspect that might have resonated with me as a geeky teen, but I'm glad I read Spider-Man and Superman comics instead.

Not content to leave well enough alone, Ender shows Peter the blood on his shoe from beating Stilson, which is about as threatening as you might expect (that is, not).

Mom comes home and commiserates with Ender over losing the monitor, and Ender feels ashamed that he failed out of the program. That night, Peter gets up to use the bathroom (a thrilling scene, I assure you), and Ender is convinced that he's going to kill him. Instead:
He whispered, "Ender, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know how it feels, I'm sorry, I'm your brother, I love you."
Maybe Peter really is "a murderer at heart." Maybe that's the honeymoon phase of the cycle of abuse.

Or maybe Ender's an unintentionally unreliable narrator who's not as good at morality or judging other people's characters as he thinks.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Ender Bender 2: Chapter 1, "Third"

I'm having a hard time being charitable.

The book begins with dialogue between two unnamed, undescribed people about three other unnamed, undescribed people. It's not exactly "Call me Ishmael," and it may not even be "Call Me Maybe." We can gather that there are three siblings, two of whom "tested out impossible" of an undescribed test for reasons that are also undescribed. The third is "too malleable. Too willing to submerge himself in someone else's will." And the solution to that is just to surround this third individual with enemies all the time, because he won't submit to them.

Oh, also, I know much hay has been made out of the alien villains in this book series, but seriously:
If the buggers get him, they'll make me look like his favorite uncle.
Card's not exactly making the jokes difficult. If the subtext is not meant to be about a talented, impressionable boy who won't submit to "buggers," then Card's doing a pretty poor job of laying something else in there.


The story proper begins With Andrew/Ender Wiggins (so far, we don't know the genesis of the nickname) getting a "monitor" removed from the back of his neck. The "monitor" is never described in this chapter, but I can't help imagining a small, full-on CRT screen implant. Either way, this scene helps to establish that Ender has the adults all figured out, specifically that they lie and say "this won't hurt a bit" but it is going to hurt, but since you know they're reliably lying, you can at least count on that.

Or something along those lines.

We also learn that Ender/Andrew had his monitor a whole year longer than his brother Peter, who resents him for it. They're different people: Peter likes playing "buggers and astronauts," Ender likes reading books. Like the kids reading this book! He's just like you, audience!

Of course, Peter is a belligerent jerk:
There was something in Peter's eyes, when he was in that mad mood, and whenever Ender saw that look, that glint, he knew that the one thing Peter would not do was leave him alone. I'm practicing piano, Ender. Come turn the pages for me. Oh, is the monitor boy too busy to help his brother? Is he too smart? Got to go kill some buggers, astronaut? No, no, I don't want your help. I can do it on my own, you little bastard, you little Third.

You'll be happy to know that in the future, doctors are men and nurses are women. At least our stereotypes remain intact. The removal of Ender's monitor sends him into a spasming fit, which is relieved with an injection of some muscle relaxant/sedative. The nurse who brought the syringe in apparently doesn't know anything about the drug inside it, which seems like a failure of training, and the doctor is shaken by how easily they "could have unplugged [Ender] forever."

So we have an early bit of action, an indication that these procedures are dangerous, and an indication that adults are incompetent liars. The rest of the chapter strengthens these themes.

Ender returns to school, where he has a realization that "he was just like everybody else now." Spoiler: he's not.

Miss Pumphrey talked about multiplication. Ender doodled on his desk, drawing contour maps of mountainous islands and then telling his desk to display them in three dimensions from every angle. The teacher would know, of course, that he wasn't paying attention, but she wouldn't bother him. He always knew the answer, even when she thought he wasn't paying attention.
And here's the first place where I realize that my window for enjoying this story and identifying with its protagonist has long since passed. The teacher in me is amused to see that even in a high-tech future, differentiation that reaches and stimulates every student is difficult to achieve. The teenager in me notes that, if we were inclined to think of Ender as an unreliable narrator, "contour maps of mountainous islands" could very easily be a pompous, "I've already come up with an exculpatory but implausible excuse" way of doodling boobs.

But the rest of me can't help but think of Liz Lemon or that recent Daredevil issue about pompous young Matt Murdock. Yes, Ender has problems with bullies, and he doesn't deserve the blame for the taunts and violence that are visited on him. However, here he's flaunting how he doesn't have to follow the rules (the teacher yells at the kid who makes fun of him, but doesn't reprimand Ender for inattentiveness), and how much smarter than everyone else he is. Maybe the teacher doesn't care if he's not paying attention (or, speaking from some experience, doesn't have anything else for him to do or is tired of having the same conversations with him over and over), but I'll bet the other students care. Ender should not be in this class; if we assume that he is, in fact, well above the material. There are lots of kids who assume that they're well above the material and don't pay attention, only to discover that their self-assessment was in error. If he has to be in this class, then the teacher should be modifying his workload so that he's stimulated. That she hasn't, and that she openly lets him get away with things other students receive punishment for, makes Ender an even bigger target to the people who don't have it so easy in the classroom.

And I suspect it'd help if he weren't so insufferably smug about the whole thing.

I want to scratch something I said earlier: it's not that I don't identify with Ender. I do. I identify him as the same smug, insufferable tool I was in grade/middle school, doodling superheroes because I already knew everything already and every thought I had was profound, original, and brilliant. I just don't see that character as a hero, I see that character as an unfortunate and embarrassing phase.

Case in point: a classmate makes the derogatory word "THIRD" show up on and circle around Ender's desk. Ender's response:
Ender smiled. He was the one who had figured out how to send messages and make them march--even as his secret enemy called him names, the method of delivery praised him.
Ha ha, got you dummy! Again, as a kid I probably would have seen this as a smirkworthy, table-turning private victory. Now, I just see it as...insufferably smug. I have a feeling that's a phrase I'm not done with yet.

We learn that the government wouldn't normally allow "thirds" into school; I suspect that if Ender hadn't lucked into this government experiment, this book would just be Anthem.

There is a nice prescient bit here where the kids are working with their electronic desks:
The bell rang. Everyone signed off their desks or hurriedly typed in reminders to themselves. Some were dumping lessons or data into their computers at home. A few gathered at the printers while something they wanted to show was printed out.
The idea that we'd still be (presumably) using paper printers in this distant future might be a bit unlikely, but the bit about sending data to a remote location is shockingly cloud-esque for 1991. Orson Scott Card predicts Dropbox.

This naturally leads Ender into a reverie about how great, smart, and talented he is. Unfortunately, he also realizes how his monitor provided him with constant surveillance, and now that it's gone, he no longer has that protection. So it's no surprise when Stilson, the bully from class, starts picking on Ender, calling him a "bugger-lover" (really?), and ganging up on him with friends. The scene rings fairly true (except the part where somebody says "see-saw, marjorie daw," which I have never seen nor heard outside of truly ancient books of nursery rhymes), with the bullies flinging stupid taunts and insults, and Ender getting himself in worse trouble by trying to be clever.

But then the magic of adolescent power fantasies kicks in--literally!
But they let go of him. And as soon as they did, Ender kicked out high and hard, catching Stilson square in the breastbone.
Note: my childhood love of Hardy Boys books had me anticipating a blow to the solar plexus.
He dropped. It took Ender by surprise--he hadn't thought to put Stilson on the ground with one kick. It didn't occur to him that Stilson didn't take a fight like this seriously, that he wasn't prepared for a truly desperate blow.
There's a moment where the other bullies think Stilson might be dead, and Ender muses on the "unspoken rules of manly warfare," which he decides, like the rules of the classroom, don't apply to him. So he kicks Stilson several times while he's on the ground, as a message to the others. Our hero, ladies and gentlemen:
["]But just remember what I do to people who try to hurt me. From then on you'd be wondering when I'd get you, and how bad it would be." He kicked Stilson in the face. Blood from his nose spattered the ground nearby. "It wouldn't be this bad," Ender said. "It would be worse."
Ender walks away, and cries once out of the bullies' sight, musing that he's just like his brother. It's nice to see that this combat prowess isn't seen as a wholly positive trait. I'm just curious if the smug self-assuredness will also be getting a less laudatory treatment down the line.

Then again, I read Card's introduction. So, you know, probably not.

Friday, August 09, 2013

Ender Bender 1: Introduction

I'm reading the edition of Ender's Game from 1991, in which Card writes a new introduction for the then-six-year-old book. It's largely unremarkable, and there were definitely bits I skimmed over. But right as I was about to skip to the presumably meatier first chapter, I hit a paragraph that stuck out. Card's talking about how the germs of this story came from reading Asimov's Foundation; and thinking about war, specifically the Civil War as viewed through the lens of Bruce Catton's Army of the Potomac. Here's the interesting bit:

I learned that history is shaped by the use of power, and that different people, leading the same army, with, therefore, approximately the same power, applied it so differently that the army seemed to change from a pack of noble fools at Fredericksburg to panicked cowards melting away at Chancellorsville, then to the grimly determined, stubborn soldiers who held the ridges at Gettysburg, and then, finally, to the disciplined, professional army that ground Lee to dust in Grant’s long campaign. It wasn’t the soldiers who changed. It was the leader.

Really? The soldiers didn't change from Fredericksburg to Gettysburg? That seems pretty damn unlikely. I suspect there were lots of changes in the soldiers. The draft didn't begin in the North until after Fredericksburg, for one thing. And just as a layman with no particular knowledge of the Civil War, I imagine that soldiers who were in battle after battle would have gained valuable experience dealing with the Confederate forces. Skilled soldiers would have moved up the ranks. New recruits would be trained specifically to fight against the South. Troops would have had more time to reach the front lines from other parts of the country. Weaknesses in Confederate strategy would have been communicated through the ranks. Union victories would have boosted Union morale and demoralized Confederates. Maybe there were other factors that I'm not aware of, since I have a high school-level knowledge of the Civil War, but Card seems to be suggesting that if Grant had been leading the Union army at Fredericksburg, they would have been a "disciplined, professional army" instead of "a pack of noble fools," and presumably would have similarly ground the Confederate troops to dust. My understanding of the Civil War is limited, but I highly suspect that Card's here is so simplistic as to be insulting to all the people at all ranks and levels of service who fought under his orders.

This leads Card into wondering what kind of training future soldiers would receive to fight wars among the stars; he concludes that it'll be something like zero-gravity Lazer Tag, which is superior to the "rigid and formal [...] meaningless marching and maneuvers that still waste an astonishing amount of a trainee's precious hours in basic training in our modern military."

At least according to Wikipedia, Orson Scott Card has no military experience. No word on how much Lazer Tag he's played.


I also have no military experience, but it seems like marching and maneuvers have purposes beyond just combat simulation, like, say, training individual people to act like a cohesive unit, to follow orders quickly, to have a fall-back plan when things do go wrong. Driver's Ed courses don't put inexperienced student drivers in the middle of Nascar tracks; in order to be able to cope with unexpected and chaotic conditions, it seems like it's generally a good idea to have some degree of basic...training.

Other insights from Card: Archaeology is boring! More boring than dentistry! It's also a "semi-science." The arch-homophobe who thinks there was no gay rights movement in the '80s was heavily into theatre. He rewrote lots of "lousy scripts" because of dull speeches. I can't wait to see how that plays out. Especially since he says he wrote sci-fi without knowing anything about the clichés of the genre...Card's beginning to sound like one of those magically insufferable people who thinks one can excel at anything without any experience or research. I mean, at least I looked at a Civil War timeline before I started this post. Also insufferable:
The attacks on the novel--and on me--were astonishing. Some of it I expected--I have a master's degree in literature, and in writing Ender's Game I deliberately avoided all the little literary games and gimmicks that make "fine" writing so impenetrable to the general audience. [...] If everybody came to agree that stories should be told this clearly, the professors of literature would be out of a job, and the writers of obscure, encoded fiction would be, not honored, but pitied for their impenetrability.
That is amazing. "People hated this book because I don't subscribe to the man's ideas about what makes literature great. I wrote for the dummies who can't understand 'fine' writing." I know how I'm responding to my bad reviews from now on.

He goes on to call out a guidance counselor who disliked the book because of its unrealistic portrayal of gifted children (and says others had the same complaint), but says basically "nuh-uh, it's totes realistic" and goes on to suppose that the backlash is because the novel is kind of a revolutionary manifesto for children to rise up and throw off the shackles of adult oppression. I exaggerate only very slightly.

At this point I'd like to point out that I intended to make this a short post, just riffing off that first bit about the Civil War. I didn't know how far down this rabbit hole went, and I'm sorry.

Most of the rest of the introduction is given over to letters from a group of gifted children and a soldier, which allow Card to pontificate about the nature of fiction and how his story is used by different academics and military teachers. He says "All these uses are valid; all these readings of the book are 'correct/' For all these readers have placed themselves inside this story, not as spectators, but as participants[.]" Presumably, then, the critics and that guidance counselor had incorrect readings, because they were just "spectators."

I honestly thought I could set aside my contempt when going into this, but here we are.

Since I'm grasping for something nice to say, I like that Card says he thinks the 'true' story is the one created by the reader bringing their experiences (though not experiences working with actual gifted children for your job) to the table. I think that interpretive level, that silent conversation between author, text, and reader which produces so many different, varying, mutually exclusive takes on the same literature, is a vital part of what makes literature so powerful and fascinating, and I'm always dismayed when authors condemn certain readings or viewpoints as illegitimate. So I'd be more apt to accept Card's statement in support of that view if he hadn't spent the first part of this introduction casting aspersions on certain readings, critics, and the rest of literature.

Next week: Chapter 1.

Sunday, August 04, 2013

12 White Guys in a Row!

It's disappointing, but the most surprising thing about casting Peter Capaldi as the next Doctor is that he, like Karen Gillan, was in "The Fires of Pompeii." It's not that I think Capaldi will do a bad job, and I think it's nice that they went for an older guy this time around, but a female Doctor or a person of color would have been a welcome change, and could have opened up interesting story avenues, especially in the former case.

But I don't want to be pessimistic, so I came up with this short list of 12 choices for 12th Doctor that would have been even safer than picking Peter Capaldi:
  1. Harry Styles from One Direction
  2. Stephen Moffat
  3. Benedict Cumberbatch
  4. Patrick Stewart
  5. All of One Direction
  6. Daniel Radcliffe
  7. Sir Paul McCartney
  8. David Tennant
  9. Prince George Alexander Louis of Cambridge
  10. Daniel Craig
  11. Robert Pattinson
  12. Bat Smythe, who is just Matt Smith with a fake moustache

Thursday, August 01, 2013

Card's on the table

So Dan Didio said that Orson Scott Card's Superman story is still going to be published, assuming they can find a conservative/desperate artist. Considering that we haven't seen much from Ethan Van Sciver there lately, and that it would basically mean a couple weeks off of "Injustice" for Mike S. Miller, that seems like an eventuality, and it makes sense that DC might release it to coincide with the movie adaptation of Card's Ender's Game in November.

Of course, it would have made sense for DC to release the Phantom Zone trade and coordinate the General Zod DLC for "Injustice: Gods Among Us" to come out in mid-June, and that didn't happen, so who knows.

It's infuriating how cynical a move this is by DC. They meddled and meddled and ultimately shelved Chris Roberson's story about Davood Nassur because they were afraid of controversy (judging by Roberson's plot summary, the controversy would be the Fox News/Tea Party conservative types howling about how DC's too friendly to Muslims), but now they're cozying up to an arch-homophobe whose blockbuster movie has a boycott and protest out months in advance. Then again, that same audience of asshats they were trying to placate by shelving the Superman story are the ones who would be cheering on their solidarity with science fiction's current bigot-in-chief, so maybe DC's just staking their claim as the preferred comic company of reactionary wingnuts.

And to wait until some unspecified time in the future, when the hoopla has died down over the initial story announcement, when shop owners and ComiXology subscribers are ordering and buying the book out of habit, to drop this bomb and hope the only people who notice are the ones who are excited to read Card's work, just seems crass and weaselly. I need to do another big pull list pruning soon, and this kind of stunt is making me feel morally obligated to mostly prune away DC titles.

Of course, it could be a big face-saving mood. By keeping the story consistently in the queue to be published, DC can avoid any bad blood with Card and his cadre of bigots--after all, it's not their fault the artist pulled out and they can't find a new one--and let the story fade into the misty depths of pop culture memory once "Ender's Game" flops its way out of theaters. Even that would be a cowardly cop-out, and I hope it results in DC getting some serious snubs from GLAAD Media Awards in the future. Can't shake the devil's hand and say you're only kidding.

Which brings me to point two: I've never read Ender's Game. There was a time when I really wanted to read it--one of my roommates in college was a huge fan of the series--and I've almost purchased the book on several occasions. That all tapered off when I learned of Card's politics, and Dave Lartigue's summaries have me largely convinced that it's a lot like Catcher in the Rye in that the time when the book might have spoken to me has long since past. But I'm morbidly curious, and itching to write about something other than comics for once, and I think I might have an interesting perspective as someone who likes YA sci-fi, loved "The Last Starfighter," and utterly frigging hates Orson Scott Card and his stupid face. So I've procured a copy of the book without enriching Card in any way, and I think I'm going to start a little series of posts, hopefully mostly short ones, outlining my thoughts as I experience a hateful bigot's nerd power fantasy sci-fi classic for the first time. My goal is to do this every Friday, starting next week, so be on the look out for Ender Bender, a title I shamelessly stole from the very same Dave Lartigue, starting next week.

Monday, July 22, 2013

Like reading with your ears!

I mentioned my involvement with the Nerdologues last week, and it seems that the podcast is up a bit earlier than I expected. So if you've ever wondered what it'd be like to experience my Superman-centric meanderings with a completely different set of sensory organs, or if you just want to hear all those other amazing people say/sing cool things, you can listen to the whole thing right here. Let me know what you thinked!

And I suppose I'll post a transcript of my portion in the near future. I'd just copy-paste it, but I did some ad-libbing, so I'll have to listen to it again first.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Supermovie #6: Superman Returns

Like I said at the start of this, while I loved Superman Returns when it came out (saw it at least five times in the theater, including at least three times in IMAX 3D), I don't know that I've watched it more than once or twice since. I've also read all the critiques by reasonable people who have largely tempered my enthusiasm for the film, so I'll be interested to see what I think of it now, seven years after the fact.

My brother got me the Blu-Ray Superman film collection this past holiday season, so I started by watching the deleted "Return to Krypton" sequence for the first time outside of YouTube. It's a very pretty opening, and while it does a nice job of showcasing Kryptonian sunstone technology, demonstrating Superman's weakness to kryptonite, and revealing the fate of dead Krypton, it's also kind of long and slow. It's almost artsy, like something you'd expect from Ridley Scott or Stanley Kubrick (keep in mind: I am not a film student), so I can see why they'd want to cut it from a movie marketed as a superhero action flick. Also, it seems like a major oversight for Superman not to build some kind of anti-kryptonite shielding into the ship he's taking to examine the source of all kryptonite.

The text opening is kind of awful. I suppose it's better than another origin story, but it seems like there are other ways they could have accomplished this beyond a paragraph on a blank screen.


The scene of Krypton's sun imploding, then exploding, seems physically improbable, but is a nice way to start the film off with a bang.


Which leads directly into the title credits, which are kind of clearly what the credits for the Donner movies wanted to be, with lots of cool space visuals that also, admittedly, often don't make a lot of physical sense. But if I can accept an alien race that looks exactly like humans but can fly under their own power when exposed to particular kinds of solar energy, then I guess I don't have too much room to talk.

Noel Neill sounds an awful lot like an older Margot Kidder, which is fascinating. She plays Lex Luthor's dying older wife, who leaves everything to him. It's nice to see the extreme lengths Lex will go to in order to get what he wants, even if it seems oddly out of character for him to become a glorified gold-digger.

Clark crashes in the Kent field again, and Martha gets a nice Pietà moment, though this scene makes a bit more sense in light of the Return to Krypton sequence, where Clark is weakened by all the kryptonite.


Lex is researching minerals while sailing on his yacht to the arctic. He gives a little speech about Prometheus, and his desire to forge an empire through control of technology. Specifically, Kryptonian technology which he goes to steal from the Fortress. Lex activates the console somehow, then activates the Jor-El floating head hologram, which, presumably, Superman repaired after its destruction in both versions of Superman II.


Clark spends some time down on the farm, reminiscing, and I've always really liked the flashback sequence of young Clark enjoying his powers. There's a much greater sense of wonder and enjoyment here than there was with the beat-the-train sequence in the first movie. Clark is concerned by the turmoil and strife in the world, and he and Martha share a tender moment. It's interesting that this is kind of the meta-theme of the movie: why has Superman been absent so long from a world that needs him?

Clark returns to the Daily Planet offices with two big suitcases for some reason and the doofiest smile.


Brandon Routh is pretty great here. He gets his job back, and learns a bit about Lois's life during his absence. She's a mom! She has a son! She's on a space shuttle thing!

Lex and his henchmen have a fun scene experimenting with the sunstone in the bottom of his inherited mansion. Dropping a tiny piece in some water leads to a giant blackout, even causing an electrical failure on the jet that Lois is on. It's funny to see the carnage this wreaks on Lex's train set, complete with 'realistic' sound effects, since so much of the disasters in the first film were done in an HO-scale.


There's some good humor there, and I like how sarcastic Kitty is. It's nice to have someone around Lex who isn't afraid to make fun of him.

Of course, the power outage causes problems for the shuttle, which begins its launch sequence without releasing from the jet. Which, of course, is a job for Superman. Everything about the shuttle rescue is still pretty great, and the effects really hold up. About the only bad thing is how little Lois has to do; she gets tossed around like a rag doll just trying to get to a seat, and it kind of sets the tone for her relative passiveness in the rest of the movie.

The "safest way to travel" line works here in a way that it really didn't in Superman IV, and I could be happy if the movie ended with that triumphant flight out of the stadium.

As an aside, I've heard the criticism that Superman is too humble to stand in and take in the crowd's adulation, and that's a fair point. I wish he'd give them a salute or something, but I think it can also be read as him letting the people know that he really is back.



I like the newsroom sequence, especially with Lois standing up and fighting for her own story, even if Kate Bosworth doesn't put a whole lot of oomph into said fight. The meeting between Clark and Lois is pretty awkward, and while I've always thought that Richard White gets treated surprisingly well for a guy that a lesser movie would make into...well, into Brad from Superman III, Lois asking him to fight her battle with Perry is pretty enormously out of character for her, and kind of throws Lois under the bus.

There's an interesting bit of banter between Lois and Clark where it seems--especially in light of the movie's twist ending--like she's passive-aggressively calling him out, and is weary of the double identity game. It's our first glimpse of a more Kidder-esque Lois, and it's really kind of hard to take Clark's side here. It's back to that meta-theme. Old Clark is trying to go back to his old habits, but the world has changed and moved on. Without him, without Superman, people aren't stuck in the same old routines, and they're free to grow and change. Damn, I could write an essay on this aspect of the film, as a critique of these serialized fiction franchises where the only changes are cosmetic, where the characters stay in the same roles for decades or longer without moving forward, and about the tension that results from being nostalgic for the past when the present is so different.

"Superman Returns" is, essentially, an argument against "Superman Returns."

And then we get to the worst scene, where Superman spies on the Lane/White clan at home.


It fits with the whole theme of Superman as an outsider, looking in, kept at arm's length from normal humans, but it's not the Superman I really want to see. The messianic imagery gets pretty heavy here too, and thankfully it leads into the bank heist scene, which has some well-conceived and fast-paced action. It's all spectacle, designed to be spectacle, with the intention of drawing Superman's attention. The guns in this scene, with the Gatling gun firing in slow motion and the bullet hitting Superman's eye, are just so, so good. I love the look he and the robber give as that last bullet falls.


Lex's entry into the museum, punctuated with the second distraction of Kitty's out-of-control car careening through the city, shows that he's got the whole scheme plotted down to the second.

And then we get the Action #1 shot. It's fanservice, but it's also a scene that we've never really scene in live-action before.


It's strange that the kryptonite meteorite only seems to glow under certain filters; it fits with the fluorescent properties of earthly minerals, but that's certainly not what it was like the last time we saw it.

One thing I really like about this movie is the flying effect, how quiet and smooth and effortless it is for Superman, like he's swimming through the air. It's nice that we also see lots of Superman saving people, doing little things like stopping robberies and fires, though it's a little weird that Clark is distracted by seeing it on TV. It seems a bit self-indulgent.

We get the "it's a bird" line in the next scene, interrupted as the "truth, justice" line was earlier, and with a focus on a picture rather than the actual sky. One thing I notice watching this half of the film after Man of Steel is that the Superman fanservice bits here are a lot like the Christ imagery in Man of Steel: they exist mostly (if not solely) to say "look! It's that familiar thing! Remember this?" At least the messianic stuff in this movie feels a bit more like it fits thematically.

The bit where Clark, Lois, and Perry are talking about story assignments, and the way it all breaks down, underscore two of the major themes about the film. Clark is passive; the only time he really speaks up is to ask Jimmy how Lex Luthor got out (and learns that it was kind of his fault, another thing that went wrong without Superman around), while Lois is clearly annoyed that Clark gets her story, and mentions their "relationship." I suppose it's still ambiguous, but I think the implication that she knows/remembers and is irritated by him trying to play the game, trying to slip back into their old roles as if nothing happened, is made even stronger here. It's giving me a new appreciation for Kate Bosworth in this role.

Kitty confronts Lex about putting her life in real danger, which gives us an interesting wrinkle to Lex's character. Is this cavalier attitude toward the safety of the people closest to him meant to be a contrast to Superman's deep concern for everyone around him, or is Lex so confident in Superman's abilities and predictability that he knows he'll save Kitty and simply doesn't worry about it? Or some combination of both? It makes Lex delightfully sociopathic.


It's not made clear how Lex's tools are able to shape the kryptonite when they had such difficulty cutting through the sunstone. I guess kryptonite isn't as robust? Or maybe they used bits of sunstone to do it? But then, the matter of what sorts of things from Krypton are indestructible is kind of fuzzy anyway.

Lois and Richard talking about Superman, with Lois rattling off info from her "I Spent The Night With Superman" column, is a super-awkward infodump. Clark shrugs it off, and Lois kind of ditches him for a smoke, which Superman thwarts. She tells Superman "Just wasn't expecting...you," and any doubt I had that she's just fed up with the dual identity game is eradicated. He gives her an interview, in which she tells him that the world's moved on, that "the world doesn't need a savior, and neither do I."

They go for a flight, and it further demonstrates how effortless and smooth flying is for Superman in this film. It's a shame that it has to come on the back of Superman trying to make time with an engaged woman.


I do like the "You wrote that the world doesn't need a savior, but every day I hear the world crying out for one" line. Not so much the "I'm sorry I left you, Lois. I'll take you back now" double-entendre, which treats her like an object and acts like a big screw you to Richard. Their flight takes them past the Lane/White house, and Lois clearly has some second thoughts. How easy it is to slip into old habits and forget the present.

I do like the art deco aesthetic of this film. It's what saves the darker color palette of Superman's costume for me, since everything has that more washed-out feel.


Superman finds out the Fortress has been broken into, Lois tracks down the source of the blackout, and then realizes she needs to pick Jason up from school. Which then leads to her investigating the blackout with kid in tow. It makes sense, honestly, especially given the themes of this film. Lois's habit has typically been to rush into dangerous situations without a thought for her own safety, figuring it out on the fly. But things have changed for her as well, much though she might wish/act like they hadn't.

It's kind of nuts that she leaves her cell phone in the car but takes her kid with. Come on, Lois.


The wig-based reveal is a genuinely creepy moment, and then they run into Lex in his robe, brushing his teeth. It's great to see Lex disarmed like that.

 

The banter between Lex and Lois is great, especially since Lois has every reason to agree with him regarding Superman. She does a little hostage negotiating, and manages to finagle an interview, which is kind of classic Lois.


Lex's land scheme is contrived, but Kevin Spacey's portrayal is so perfectly gleeful. Let me digress a moment here, because his plan gets a lot of flak, and while it's not great, it's not the "why would anyone want to live on a continent of kryptonite" stupidity that people make it out to be. It's pretty clear that Lex set this plan in motion before he knew that Superman had returned, so for all he knew, he was going to end up with a continent of Kryptonian sunstone, complete with crazy technology like holographic projectors and molecule chambers, but at the very least, with the combined knowledge of an entire super-advanced alien race at his disposal. The kryptonite was an afterthought, a contingency plan enacted when Superman returned. I suppose he'd still end up with an island made of kryptonite, but he'd also have all that alien technology to go with it, and we have no reason to think in this reality that kryptonite affects humans (in fact, I think they've said the opposite).

Lois using her young son to create a diversion is kind of the worst parenting ever, especially when the only song her kid knows is typically played by two people. And then she sends a distress call via fax machine.


Lex's island grows, Jason throws a piano at a predator, and Lex's henchmen learn Lois Lane--and Jason White's--secret. Other people had problems with Lex's plan, I have issues with the way that Kryptonian/human biology seems to combine to make a sickly asthmatic kid who's immune to kryptonite but has flashes of super-strength.

Superman flies to save Lois, seeing the seismological disturbance on the way, and realizes he has to choose between her and Metropolis. Hey, Superman placed into an impossible moral dilemma? Where have I seen that before?


The action of Superman saving people and stopping disasters in Metropolis is pretty well done, especially saving the Daily Planet globe, even if he has to set it on a car at the end. Better than putting it where it can fall down again, I guess.


Richard White saves Lois and Jason, which is a great moment for him. They could have made his character really terrible, but I'm glad he's such a good, nice person. He really steals the show. Of course, the stakes raise along with the ship, and suddenly Richard and his seaplane aren't quite enough to save his family. And that's when Superman shows up. I love that it's Superman and Richard working together who manage to save Lois and Jason.


So here's the other thing people have a problem with in this climax: "how can Superman get so close to an island made of kryptonite?" As if the whole point of this ending weren't Superman working against absolutely impossible odds to save the day, take a look at the island:


Is it glowing green? No, it's not even the shiny translucent green that kryptonite tends to be in this film. It's mostly black rock (no relation) because the sunstone crystal took the properties of the crystal material surrounding it as it grew (otherwise this island would have only as much kryptonite as was in that cylinder Lex had cut). When it fell into the crevasse in the ocean, it became surrounded by rock just as much as it was surrounded by kryptonite. This resulted in an island with a more layered structure: sunstone, kryptonite, and normal (probably basaltic) oceanic rock. Superman's affected by kryptonite to be sure, but the effect diminishes with distance. With all that rock between him and the pockets of kryptonite, it's no wonder that the effect is diminished, and no wonder that he's able to do some super-feats despite its presence.

With that out of the way, we get to the climactic confrontation, Superman in a desolate wasteland not unlike the Krypton he visited in the deleted scene. Superman's "I see an old man's sick joke" line to Luthor resonates with the deeper themes of the film.

That shot of the sweat on Superman's temple is the greatest indication that he's not invincible, and it's similarly great that Lex picks up on it before Superman does. Superman gets kicked while he's down. It's kind of terrible that Superman's the only character who really doesn't get to throw a punch in this scene, and it hearkens back to Clark's beating at the hands of the truck driver in Superman II. He couldn't even put up a token defense?


Naturally Lex stabs him in the side, and Superman falls off the edge of the island, and the scene of him struggling in the water probably doesn't need the disembodied voice of Jor-El. The scene of the plane landing over Superman is a nice reversal of Superman landing on the boat door that we had earlier, and Lois dives down to save him for once. The one person who's not afraid to tug on Superman's cape.


Naturally, once he's recovered, he still has a job to do, and unlike the last time he left, he tells Lois "goodbye."


Then it's a quick trip into the sunlight, and he uses a bit of intellect to solve the problem, drilling down into the oceanic crust to get far enough below the island that the kryptonite doesn't affect him as much. And then he lifts the whole damn continent out of the water.

Doing the "aircraft appears to fall but is actually flying just fine" bit twice is a bit much.


Superman tosses the island back into space and falls to Earth, unconscious, in a crucifixion pose that makes at least a thousand times more sense than the one he had in Man of Steel.


The scene of the hospital workers trying to save him is a pretty great moment, and leads to a little fakeout of Perry and Richard standing in front of a "Superman is Dead" headline, which turns out the be a mock-up, alongside a "Superman Lives" one.


It's a pretty decent gag, and leads to Richard White offering to take Lois and Jason to the hospital, to join the vigil. Once again, Richard gets a lot of really small heroic moments in this film, and while the story has put him in a crappy position, the filmmakers ensure that you really can't dislike him. And he's confident that Lois will come back.

Jason's "is he going to get better? I like him" dialogue is kind of clunky even for a little kid. Lois tells the unconscious Superman a secret, and hey Ma Kent is there in the crowd!

There's a little poetic justice as Lex and Kitty end up stranded on some beachfront property, and it seems all Superman needed was a little R&R, and the approval of a child, because he's no longer in the hospital room. Meanwhile, Lois is writing a rebuttal to her Pulitzer-winning article, and Superman is creeping on his love child upstairs.


He recites Jor-El's speech about being alone, and aside from the nonsensical "the father becomes the son" bit, it's pretty touching. But at least part of it makes more sense in this case, because here the Last Son of Krypton has indeed become a father, at least in a biological sense. Still no fathers becoming sons.

Superman and Lois have that "Will we see you around" exchange again, though here it tinged with hope and relief rather than annoyance. Superman flies around the city, and then we get Brandon Routh in the flight end sequence that ended every previous Superman film. It really is a pretty fitting ending to the entire series, even if it is meant to be a sequel to a version of the second movie that was never entirely finished and ignores the third and fourth movies and also parts of the second movie.


Overall: I think I actually like this film more now than I did the last time I watched it, and I think it's largely because of themes that I'd never really noticed before. "Superman Returns" is ultimately a movie about nostalgia, and about Superman's place in the modern world. Bear with me.

The film starts (or at least, was intended to start) with Superman returning to Krypton, literally retreating back into his past in the hope that things are better than he thought they were. But in doing so, he neglects the rest of his life, and the world moves on without him. When he returns, he tries to start up right where he left off, but there's no place left for him anymore (literally, in Clark's case). He's an outsider, staring in, while these bits of his past that he tried to leave behind keep coming back to harm him and others. Only by completely throwing away those artifacts from the past--which kills him--can he be reborn and returned to some semblance of normalcy. In order to rejoin humanity, Superman must reject Krypton entirely, keeping only the memories.

The other aspect is more metafictional, I think, looking not just into the problem of nostalgia, but into the problem of Superman. When you remove Superman from the picture, these characters around him are able to move on, to change and grow. Lois gets a family and a Pulitzer, Ma Kent starts a relationship, even Lex changes his tactics to embark on a new, more ambitious plan. But when Superman is there, things stagnate. He's a relic from this past time who doesn't fit into a modern world. The patterns have changed, the people around him for once have been allowed to change, and Superman's trying to get them to return to old routines, old characterizations. It's almost an argument against serialized fiction, that these characters could be allowed to grow and change if not for the demands of the medium locking them into predetermined roles and repetitive stories. And look at how everyone is forced back into routines they'd abandoned as soon as Superman is back, and the tension that produces with the characters like Richard and Jason who don't fit that mold.

It's a movie where Superman is a metaphor for Superman, asking the question of whether or not Superman can still fit in a world that has changed so much, and if Superman isn't just holding these other characters back by his presence. Goyer and Snyder read "Birthright," but I'm beginning to suspect that Singer read "Must There Be a Superman?"

The problem is, in part, that the film is too clever for its own good in this regard. It's telling a story about Superman being stuck in the past by itself being stuck in the past. And what's more, it never answers the problem. Superman's stuck in the past even at the end, and there's no real resolution to the problem of Superman fitting into the modern world, unless the solution is "Superman needs to be for kids," which is a definite possibility.

Superman Returns is not a perfect Superman movie. It does some uncomfortable things with Superman's character, and it's never particularly upbeat. And while it may be trying to make a point about nostalgia and being stuck in the past, it's still overly nostalgic and stuck in the past. But I think it's a deeper and better movie than people typically give it credit for, and I'm happy to say that I enjoy it on a different level now than I did seven years ago when I gushed about it on this nascent blog.

Thursday, July 18, 2013

My Story

So, this past Sunday my friend and one-time comic supplier Eric Garneau invited me up to Chicago to be a part of a special event. Eric's a member of The Nerdologues, a comedy troupe focused on nerd culture. They do a regular event called "Your Stories," where people tell personal and/or funny stories on a particular topic, which is kind of like a nerdy open-mic meets This American Life. Sunday, they teamed up with the Chicago Loot Drop charity to do a fundraiser event including a MST3K-style commentary on Superman: The Movie. Before that, though, they did a special Superman-themed Your Stories, where I got to talk a bit about Superman alongside some other really cool people, including super-fan and fellow Stand-Up Comics customer Jim Snedeker, Terry Midnight of Third Coast Comics, the Nerdologues' Chris Geiger, and Art Baltazar of Aw Yeah Comics, Superman Family Adventures, Tiny Titans, Green Team, and some other awesome books.

The event was a blast, and it was great to hang out and chat with other Superman super-fans. People seemed to enjoy my story as well, and you can judge for yourself when it's released as a podcast sometime next month. I'll be sure to put up a link when it shows up in my feed. I'd love to do it again, and I've got a couple of new comic shops to stop at next time I'm in downtown Chicago or Skokie.

On an unrelated note, the only thing left on my Superman Returns post is to takes some screenshots, so I should have that done by the end of the weekend.