I cannot take claim for the title of this post, though I would dearly love to do so. That honor goes to my lovely wife, who came up with it after we got out of an afternoon screening of X-Men: The Last Stand.

I’ve been a fan of the X-Men flicks, particularly the second one, which I feel is second only to Spider-Man 2 in the ranks of superhero films. Thus I was dismayed–as were many comics geeks–when direction Brett Ratner took the reins for the so-called “final chapter” of the trilogy. Not that Ratner’s the Antichrist of Hollywood–Michael Bay retains that title–but he struck me as someone who would remove the thoughtfulness of the franchise and replace it with more shit blowing up. (Not that I don’t want shit to blow up–in fact, I just remarked to Vic today that I think there should be a movie titled Shit Blows Up–but that I want feces to explode meaningfully.)

As it turned out, it was a non-issue. If nothing else, Ratner is all but anonymous in the final release. Actually, I found the first half of the movie to be somewhat lacking in the explosion department, with nothing to match the harrowing Blackbird crash sequence of X2.

While the film didn’t get below the surface of the homosexuality metaphor that drives the X-trilogy–and honestly, even Chris Claremont rarely got deeper than the “world that hates and fears them” stuff during his seminal run writing the comics–it certainly didn’t ignore the issue. The concept of finding a “cure” for the disease of being different is a powerful idea, and it was nice to see a bit of thought put into the ramifications, as well as the disagreements amongst the mutant community. Certainly, if I could shoot ice blasts from my fingers or levitate skyscrapers with my mind, I wouldn’t be keen to give up my mutantdom. But if I was Rogue, whose “power” is the inability to touch people without sucking their lives dry? Sign me up for the shot, doc.

Unfortunately, what should have been a storyline in itself–the recently deceased telepath Jean Grey being resurrected as the all-powerful Phoenix–was shunted into the sidelines. The “Phoenix Saga” as told in the pages of the comics was THE great superhero story of its day. Jean’s fatal self-sacrifice to save the universe from herself was a great shock to the readership. It was the sort of thing that simply didn’t happen back then, and it had a huge impact on all subsequent comics, if only to prove that nothing attracts fanboys like the smell of carrion. Many suspected that the Jean Grey of the movies might be headed toward her own dark apotheosis given some subtle hints in X2, but in The Last Stand, Phoenix’s origin comes in an expository dialogue scene and suggests a backstory for Jean and Professor X that isn’t at all suggested in the previous installments. I think that it could’ve used more setup.

Still, what is there is handled well. Unlike the earthbound X-flicks, the Phoenix storyline of the comics played out as a space epic, with the power-mad mutant annihilating an entire planet. No room for that here, and in one sense the script improves on things by making the Jean’s actions stepping over the line much, much more personal.

There are some surprisingly significant deaths in this movie. The first–which, to my chagrin, had been spoiled for me by blabby moviegoers–happens mostly off-screen. It really shouldn’t have. The second I knew nothing about in advance, and it was indeed a shock. Certainly, this movie feels like the final act of a trilogy, and it does not take prisoners. While I have no doubt that there’ll be future X-pics, they’ll need to round up some more mutants for the next one.

In the end–and, by the way, be sure to stay to the end of the credits–X-Men: The Last Stand isn’t the best of the lot, but it is nowhere near the disaster that was feared. I’m surprised to see it pulling only 50% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Oh, and during the umpteen minutes of commercials and trailers that preceded the film, the one that got the biggest reaction from me was for Snakes on a Plane. A very effective use of the theater’s stereo system!

Dave Movies

The future held many promises for me when I was growing up in the ’60s and ’70s. Mainstream sci-fi films and TV shows tended to be set in or around the year 2000, because of course the rolling over of calendar digits alone couldn’t help but bring great things. And being old enough to (vaguely) remember the moon landings as live TV events meant that it wasn’t at all unlikely that we’d have a base on the lunar surface (Space: 1999) and would be sending manned expeditions to Jupiter (2001: A Space Odyssey).

Granted, some future visions wound up surprisingly behind the times. In sci-fi of the day, supercomputers filled entire rooms, even in Star Trek‘s 23rd century. The microchip revolution was still some time off, and we still saw bigger as intrinsically better.

I felt that I had a pretty good idea of what the future would be like: robot servants, food pills, and above all, flying cars. (Yes, I watched The Jetsons.) It was simply inevitable that one day not only would cars fly, but that a world of bad drivers would somehow master three-dimensional traffic.

Imagine my disappointment. Here we are in 2006, and not only is that Jupiter trip an anachronistic fantasy, but we are only now talking about getting back to the moon after a 34 (34!!!) year absence. Robot maids are floor-cleaning frisbees, and don’t even wear aprons. And while my Prius is nifty, it most assuredly does not fly.

One of the few areas in which real life not only equalled but exceeded the movies has been in the area of home electronics. Back in the ’70s, I was so incredibly excited about my first pocket calculator–especially its ability to spell naughty words when held upside down–but now they come free in cereal boxes. The small black box on my desk on which I type this post is to that once-wonderful device what a genetically-designed barnyard animal is to a paramecium.

A couple of weeks ago, I got my first iPod, a 30GB model with video capability. 30 gigabytes! When I got my first home computer back in 1987 I’d never even heard the word gigabyte. I was thrilled that my new Commodore had a full 64K of memory, and an external drive capable of storing files on 5″ floppies.

Yet, less than two decades later I now have a device which fits into the palm of my hand, currently stores more than 130 CDs’ worth of music and half a season of Doctor Who, and isn’t even half full. It may not be a flying car, but if you’d told this proud owner of a pocket LED calcuator back in the ’70s that one day I’d have one of these babies, I’m not sure that I would’ve believed you.

The world of the future has proved disappointing on many levels, but this is not one of them.

Dave General

Of all the revelations in last night’s season finale of Lost, none amused me more than the GIANT FREAKY FOOT.

“I don’t know what is more disquieting: the fact that the rest of the statue is missing or that it has four toes.” –Sayid

Dave Sci-Fi

The title of this post is taken from one of my wife’s favorite invectives. She typically employs it whenever I tell her about Lucasfilm’s most recent passive-aggressive affront to Star Wars fans. “He’s playing you!” she traditionally adds.

Vic is convinced that George Lucas is going out of his way to screw over the people who helped make him a gazillionaire. While I’ll admit that there’s evidence to support her theory, I don’t always agree with her. I do think that most of the “double-dipping” (the practice of encouraging consumers to buy the same things two or more times by producing ever-better versions) that goes with Star Wars merchandising has more to do with the licensees than with Lucasfilm itself. It’s actually pretty common in the home entertainment and toy industries. It’s certainly possible that Hasbro’s own abuse of the practice is rooted in the massive licensing fee they paid to Lucasfilm prior to the release of Episode I, but as toy companies are notoriously unwilling to part with that sort of information, I’m not comfortable stating that as fact.

However, the whole “hack and ne’er-do-well” thing came up again yesterday when I described the most recent news about this fall’s scheduled DVD reissue of the classic Star Wars trilogy. And this time, I really couldn’t disagree.

First, a bit of background. In 1997, Lucas rereleased the old films to theaters in spiffed-up “special editions” which were alleged to be more in keeping with his original vision. The argument was that he was held back both by budgetary and technical limitations from making them all they could be. Certainly, Lucas’ frustrations during the filming of that first trilogy are well documented, and there’s no question that however groundbreaking the special effects were for the ’70s/’80s, they look crude by modern standards.

However, the digitally enhanced editions were controversial among die-hard fans. While most purely cosmetic tweaks were deemed acceptable–for example, the greatly-improved attack against the first Death Star–Lucas was seen to have exceeded his mandate by making editorial changes. The most notorious was his revision of Han Solo’s encounter with the bounty hunter Greedo. In the original, Han plugged the boastful criminal under the table with a concealed blaster. The new version had Greedo firing first–and missing from a distance of three feet–thus allowing Han to act without seeming quite so bloodthirsty. A lot of folks–myself included–hated this because 1) it softened Han’s rogueish character, making his ultimate transformation into a good guy less of a journey; 2) it made no logical sense for a bounty hunter to miss an unmoving target from such a short distance; and 3) it looked fuckin’ stupid. In general, the “special editions” appeared careless, with some things unnecessarily “corrected” while other, actual mistakes were left untouched.

Fans clamored for the release of the non-special versions of the movies that they grew up with, but Lucas dug in his heels and said that not only would they never be seen again, but that the actual negatives had been destroyed during the restoration/adulteration process. Despite much hand-wringing and petition-writing, the 2004 DVD release included only the “special editions.” (It should be noted that these had been further enhanced since 1997, and that some of the more egregious alterations had been made more acceptable. Greedo and Han now shoot simultaneously.) Again, we were told that the original versions would never be sold.

That was, until a few weeks ago, when it was announced that the trilogy would have yet another home video release this fall. This time, each would include, as a supplemental feature, its own unaltered version. Many fans rejoiced at this surprising reversal, though some, like myself, were pissed off at being expected to buy the “special editions” yet again to get the versions we wanted in the first place.

The other shoe dropped last week, when it was learned that the transfers to be used would be from the 1993 laserdisc release. Not only would they not be DVD quality, but they would not be in anamorphic widescreen. This latter bit is the real pisser. Anamorphic is the industry standard for presenting widescreen films on DVD. In essence, it presents a full-screen 4:3 image which appears vertically “stretched” when seen normally, but which is squeezed back down to its proper proportions by widescreen TVs (or TVs, like mine, which have a widescreen setting). The result is greatly improved picture quality. In short, anyone watching these on modern TVs will find a noticably degraded image.

Again, the fans are up in arms, and not without good reason. Lucasfilm, which has long prided itself on pushing the technical envelope in moviemaking and presentation, is deliberately releasing its crown jewels in a format which is inferior to pretty much everything currently being released to DVD.

There have been a variety of theories for this–see the title of this blog entry for the one my wife puts forward–but here’s mine. Lucas is sick of hearing old-school fans whine about how they don’t like his fancy new editions and has decided to give them what they want–sort of–in a manner which will convince them once and for all that they didn’t really want them after all. They’ll see just how crappy the unrestored films look in comparison to their 2004 counterparts and say, “How could we have ever doubted you, George?”

Except, of course, he’s setting up a straw-man (straw-trilogy?) argument by representing the originals in their worst possible, yet still vaguely defensible condition. He can say that these are the best transfers currently available without going through a hugely expensive restoration process, and it’ll be true. It’s also true that Lucasfilm easily has the resources to do them up right. They just don’t want to, whether because of hubris, malice, laziness or a simple desire to make a bunch of money without putting out any real effort.

It is, as my delicate wife loves to claim, “The Fuck-You-Up-The-Ass Edition” of the Star Wars Trilogy. I’m not sure that they’ll use that on the actual box.

Update: Lucasfilm has responded to the criticisms by saying, in part, “We hoped that by releasing the original movies as a bonus disc, it would be a way to give the fans something that is fun. We certainly didn’t want to be become a source of frustration for fans.”

I’ll grant you that fans can get frustrated about all sorts of alleged slights, large and small. However, it shouldn’t be news to anyone that this would be seen as a big deal. The online petition to get the original trilogy on DVD attracted nearly 12,000 signatures. And obviously, Lucasfilm corporate thought that the release of the unexpurgated films was worthy of making a fuss about.

Dave Star Wars

I’m back! Did ya miss me?

Had a good time last week in Orlando, even though things were mostly business. The PBS Showcase conference was largely upbeat, and I saw previews of some potentially entertaining and/or enlightening shows for the fall season and beyond. I’m especially looking forward to current Doctor Who David Tennant as Casanova on Masterpiece Theatre.

I met a variety of public TV personalities, both real and imaginary. I drivelled in the presence of Bill Moyers, and was only slightly more coherent when talking to Snook the giant sloth from the kids’ show It’s a Big, Big World. I also chatted with an astrophysicist on his way to a big meeting at NASA, plus Frank Welker, a voice-over artist who’s done just about every cartoon character and talking animal in creation.

Thankfully, despite my fears of being in Orlando and never getting near the Land of the Mouse, I did indeed get to play hooky in the Magic Kingdom with a couple of fellow programmers last Friday afternoon. Sadly, “Pirates of the Caribbean” was closed for refurbishment, but I did get to visit my other favorite, the “Haunted Mansion,” a couple of times.

Dave General

It’s been two weeks since my last posting. It’s not that I’ve been so terribly busy, but I just never seemed to get ’round to it. In recent days, I’ve been preparing my iTunes library for the impending arrival of my new video iPod, and also getting ready to head out of town this week for a PBS conference. The latter is in Orlando, but unfortunately, I won’t be able to do any theme parking while I’m there due to the tight schedule. Meh.

So, even though I wanted to blog about a variety of things, from the further revelations about domestic telephone surveillance (really, was anyone surprised?) to the horror films I watched this weekend (Constantine, despite what you’ve heard, is actually a pretty good flick, albeit one with a Keanu Reeves-shaped charisma-free zone smack in the middle). But I won’t. See you next week!

Dave General

Once in a while, an indistinct memory from my youth bumps up against my frontal lobe. It whispers faintly in my ear. (Yes, my frontal lobe has its own ear.) It sighs…”Robin Williams used to be funny.” And sometimes, I almost believe it.

In some parallel universe in which black is white and everyone –including the women–has a goatee, Bill Murray, Robin Williams, Eddie Murphy and Steve Martin are still the gutbusting, wild-and-crazy guys of my formative years. In this universe, unfortunately, Murray is a serious ac-TOR, Martin alternates between writing novels and starring in shitty family comedies, and the other two don’t even have the novels to fall back upon.

Dave Movies