Not So Superman

Many, many months ago when the trailer for the film Man of Steel hit the internet, people within my various social networks were whipped into a tizzy. While some were giddy at the idea of a new Superman movie, most seemed disgruntled by what they saw. Some decried the obvious Biblical metaphors that were present while others complained about the moral ambiguity that seemed to lace this preview.

“Superman can’t have doubts about who he is or what he does? He’s all good, all the time. He’s not a morally ambiguous asshole like Batman!”

I thought these dogmatic nerds were being a bit shortsighted in their concerns. Superman is whoever we want him to be. Like so many other mythological figures, his persona and thematic significance evolves with the times, which is a good thing. Why would we want our cultural heroes projecting morals and values from a bygone era?

Unsurprisingly, when the movie came out, many of these same people panned the film. I made the mistake of interpreting their judgment as sour grapes; simply a comic book crowd who disliked the fact that their childhood hero was something they didn’t want him to be.

Well, this weekend I finally got around to watching Man of Steel for myself.

Oh boy.

To be fair, I don’t believe the film’s failings reside in the thematic issues present in the trailer. In fact, the best scenes in the movie are when a young, confused Clark Kent struggles with who he is and who his earthly father thinks he may become. Unfortunately, the film takes a turn for the worse once an older, nomadic Kent learns his true history and dons his iconic red cape. That’s when the movie goes from a sort of cosmic coming of age story to a loud, over the top piece of disaster porn.

It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s… lots of computer animation!

I don’t want to waste too many words describing General Zod’s plot to turn Earth into a nouveau Krypton, but I’ll simply say that lots of shit gets blown up and a sizable dent is placed in the world’s population, or, at the very least, the population of Metropolis and Smallville. In fact, after one battle sequence between Superman, two of Zod’s henchmen, and the U.S. military, I’m pretty sure there are only about 17 residents left alive in Clark Kent’s hometown. (A fact that seems to have little emotional impact on the film or the people in the film.)

All of this brings me to my grumpy old man point of the day… which is I think CGI is killing the sci-fi/super hero genres. Sure, in some cases this rich technology brings to life worlds and characters that could not have existed on film thirty years ago. But at what cost? Well, it certainly seems to be at the expense of plot and story. Kal-el may have come to a really profound understanding of his place in our world, but if he did, I couldn’t hear it over the sounds of explosions and crumbling infrastructure.

In hindsight (admittedly, my favorite kind of sight) the original Superman movie is compelling for two reasons: 1.) The cast was superb and charming (even the bad guys), and 2.) the story was much better developed, probably because they couldn’t rely on special effects as much back then. Sure, they were able to hang Christopher Reeve in front of a green screen (a revolutionary development at the time), but they couldn’t even think about turning Metropolis into a post-apocalyptic hellscape (which is basically what the city looks like by the end of Man of Steel), so instead, they relied on acting, directing and screenwriting. What a concept.

At the end of the first Superman, our hero has made his journey and becomes a fully formed citizen of our planet. Not because he saves the world (which he does with an assist from Miss Teschmacher), but because he falls in love and realizes the pain that sometimes accompanies that very human emotion. Of course, in the end the lesson was undercut somewhat by the ridiculous “fly around the world to turn back time and save Lois” device which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense… but I digress. The point is they made a very, very good movie without employing pointlessly long fight scenes between opponents who are basically indestructible as long as they bask in the rays of our sun.

Superman circa 1978 — less property damage, more character.

Jaws was a great movie because they couldn’t get the shark to work right. The original Star Wars Trilogy was brilliant because they had to develop rich characters rather than cartoon everything up. And the original Superman was great because it worked around the limited technology of the day. They needed to tell their stories in more conventional ways.

Of course, special effects aren’t all bad, and in the past twenty years there have been some great movies that utilized computer technology to enhance a great script. In the past decade we’ve had great takes on classic comic book characters like Batman, Spider-man, and the X-Men. But it seems we’ve exited that era and are now increasingly served digitally grandiose spectacles that are low on depth and high on orgiastic destruction. 

Fortunately, there are still plenty of great low tech films being produced so perhaps I should save my weekend evenings for that kind of entertainment.  

Looks like I have a lot of Meryl Streep movies in my future.

Bad Idea #421: Real Lightsabers

The internet was aflutter last week as geeks from around the galaxy rejoiced over a scientific discovery that might one day make lightsabers a reality. I probably don’t have to explain what a lightsaber is, but on the off chance you’ve just emerged from a 40-year coma, it’s a sword-like weapon wielded by Jedi Knights and Sith Lords in the mythological Star Wars universe. (And if you are coming out of a four decade sleep, may I recommend you go ahead and skip Episodes I, II, and III of this cinematic saga.)

Anyway, some genius types over at MIT and Harvard have discovered a way for photons to interact with each other in a way once thought impossible. These anti-social photons were apparently the thing keeping fan boys from possessing the one thing they’ve always wanted… no, not a woman’s phone number, but a real-life, working lightsaber. In the days since the announcement took place, I have little doubt that countless hours were wasted among Star Wars devotees as they discussed the blade color and hilt design of the first lightsaber they planned on purchasing.

Congrats, nerds. Real lightsabers might be on their way.

Now I hate to be a Debbie Downer on this one, but I’m here to tell the world’s geeks to remove the blast shield from their eyes and realize that while working lightsabers might seem cool, the fact of the matter is, their existence would be a train wreck of galactic proportions. I mean, can you even imagine the first Comic-Con to take place after the release of these real lightsabers? It would be a bloodbath. America’s foremost sci-fi and super hero aficionados would gather in San Diego and accidentally dismember each other for three straight days.

And this nerd mutilation would only be the beginning. Think of the political ramifications. Once we begin mass-producing these weapons, there would inevitably be years of heated debate over the regulation of these glowing death sticks. The NRA would virtuously declare that every American has a unalienable right to possess lightsabers because it was clearly what the Founding Fathers had in mind when they wrote the Second Amendment of our God-given Constitution. And once these weapons fell into the hands of criminals, the Right would double down on their position arguing that the only way to stop a bad guy with a lightsaber is with a good guy with a lightsaber. 

The Force was strong with the Founding Fathers.

Eventually our totally freakin’ awesome new toy would go global, becoming the weapon of choice of terrorists and blood-thirsty dictators. Perhaps the use of lightsabers will be the red line that is crossed in some future Middle Eastern conflict and we will righteously declare the use of these weapons to be somehow more inhumane and horrific than light-less sabers, machine guns, and bombs.

I love technology as much as the next guy. But there are some things better left undiscovered. I mean, isn’t that what all great science fiction has tried to teach us? And by “science fiction” I mean real science fiction, not mythological space westerns that somehow got labeled science fiction by those who clearly don’t understand the difference between intergalactic war stories and a brilliant cultural genre whose main purpose is to expose the inherent flaws present in mankind’s nature and illustrate how these shortcomings are doomed to create futuristic scenarios where technology’s ever growing ubiquity will no doubt…

What I’m really trying to say is having real lightsabers would be stupid. And dangerous. And annoying. So take that, nerds. And get off my lawn.

No Zabka’s Allowed!

Parenting is a rigorous endeavor that can be both mentally and physically exhausting. Is it the hardest job in the world as some claim? Not even close. I’ll take parenting over putting in a 12-hour shift at the foundry or doing a tour in Afghanistan any day of the week.

However, being a parent definitely has its difficulties. Every single day is filled with a myriad of challenges, not to mention the big picture implications of every decision you make (and don’t make). Keeping your child alive and nourished is not enough. You must also make sure he or she grows up to be a good-mannered,well-educated, hard-working, reasonable, compassionate member of civil society.

As the father to a boy, what my job basically boils down to is making sure my son doesn’t grow up to be Billy Zabka.

Don’t know who William Zabka is? Sure you do. He portrayed a multitude of memorable dickheads in ’80s movies, most notably Johnny “Sweep the Leg” Lawrence in The Karate Kid. His suburban handsomeness and cocksure grin were enough to make any Dungeons & Dragons-playing nerd wet his Toughskins in fear.

Which douchey Zabka character is your favorite?

A cursory glance at  Mr. Zabka’s IMDB page reveals a cavalcade of some of the greatest assholes in the history of cinema. Over the course of his career he set the bar by which all other teen film assholes are judged. These days any actor who convincingly plays a memorable douchebag is awarded a Zabka. (Okay, that last part isn’t actually true. But it should be.)

This is why I’ve made it my mission as a parent to not raise a Zabka. If my son turns out to be anything like the characters Billy Zabka played during the Reagan administration, then I’ve failed as a parent and as a human being.

Ten years from now, the last thing I’ll want to hear is that my son led a group of his friends in the savage beating of a goofy teen while wearing skeleton costumes only to eventually have their asses handed to them by an elderly Japanese man. It’s the call every parent dreads. To say nothing of the shame that would come from knowing my son wears weight lifting gloves to high school so that he can ritually lift the ends of cafeteria tables in order to dump geeky kids’ lunches onto the floor.

Everything Billy Zabka represented in his movies is everything I don’t want my son to grow up to be. I want my son to treat his classmates with respect, even if that dude is a whiny loser who cracks corny jokes and lives in Reseda or a girl pretending to be a guy for an entire semester as part of some twisted journalism project. My son must treat women with respect and dignity, not as door prizes that are awarded for being the coolest blonde jock in school.

And I certainly don’t want my kid to be the guy who peaks too early in life, which is basically what all of Zabka’s memorable jackasses did. Because let’s face it, there’s no way Chas from Back to School went on to become a literary scholar or the CEO of a company dedicated to providing renewable energy opportunities to Third World countries. At best, he owns a bar in a small town.

I’m sure the real William Zabka is a nice guy and the opposite of all the the creeps he portrayed in his films. I’m sure he’s a smart, kind, considerate human being who’s also a great father and a generous lover. But as far as I’m concerned his name is synonymous with the highest grade of asshole American pop culture has ever produced and the antithesis of all what I’m working toward as a father. So in my household we recite a simple mantra that all families should use with their kids:

No Zabkas Allowed!

As parents, making sure we raise a country full of non-Zabkas is the best way we can all sweep the leg on bullying and produce a respectful, productive generation of Americans. It’s either that or find a lot of Mr. Miyagis.

What’s Wrong with America: Aging Action Heroes Edition

Anyone remember 1984? It’s okay if you don’t. It was a long time ago. Ronald Reagan was the POTUS, we were locked in a Cold War with the Soviets, and Eddie Murphy was funny. Boy, how times have changed.

It was also the year Arnold Schwarzenegger became a Hollywood A-lister with the success of The Terminator. It was in this James Cameron sci-fi masterpiece that Arnie first uttered his now famous catchphrase:

I’ll be back.

How prophetic those three words turned out to be. Because this week we learned that the former body builder turned actor turned politician turned philanderer turned actor is donning the leather jacket and becoming a cyborg once again. That’s right, he’s making Terminator 5. I don’t know much about the plot of the film, but I look forward to learning why the newest version of the T-800 looks wrinkly and old. Perhaps there’s a shortage of faux human skin in the future.

It’s all fun and games until someone breaks a hip.

Unfortunately, the Governator is not alone. There’s no shortage of aging action heroes gracing the silver screen these days. These past few weeks I’ve been bombarded with ads announcing the upcoming release of yet another Die Hard movie and Stallone is back (of course) with his latest opus, Bullet to the Head. (Side Note: Call me a bleeding heart, latte sipping liberal who hates liberty, but given the gun related tragedies that have plagued our nation in recent years, perhaps the auteurs responsible for this cinematic gem could’ve come up with a slightly more tasteful title.)

Am I the only one who feels like these films are the Hollywood equivalent of watching Willie Mays stumble around the outfield in Shea Stadium?

I’ve certainly ranted about this before. Maybe my recent angst is related to the fact that these former Planet Hollywood owners insist on squeezing every dime out of franchises that ceased being relevant back in my virginal years. And even when they’re not reliving the glory days of those iconic characters, they’re doing films that seem like relics from a bygone era.

Bill Murray is one of the actors I deeply respect. You know why? Because he evolved. Because he grew up. Because he could’ve spent the last 30 years playing that lovable, wise-cracking jokester we all loved, but chose not to. He branched out. He tried new things. And it worked. Sure there were some duds (I’m looking your direction Osmosis Jones and Garfield), but all-in-all a fantastic, well-rounded career. In fact, when Dan Aykroyd tried to get the band back together for Ghostbusters 3, Murray not only bowed out, he alleged read the script and replied, “No one wants to pay money to see fat, old men chasing ghosts!”

Tru dat, Mr. Murray.

Who you gonna call? Probably the nearest doctor.

Look, there was a time and place for these formulaic action movies just like there was a time and place for David Lee Roth to wear ass-less chaps. But that time has passed. And watching old dogs do the same trick over and over again isn’t fun. It’s sad.

Now step aside old men so we can watch more movies about vampires and zombies.

It’s 2013! Where are the damn robots?

The New Year is upon us. Resolutions have been made and optimism abounds. People all over the world are looking at 2013 as a time to make positive changes and become better human beings. And as the world looks forward to the promise of tomorrow, all I want to know is… where are the damn robots?

If only we lived in a world where old men got to stare at robots.

You see, when I was growing up in the ‘80s, I watched a lot of movies and TV shows. And thanks to the original, Jar Jar-less Star Wars trilogy there was no shortage of science-fiction to be found. These fictitious portrayals of technologically advanced societies inspired me to believe in a future where anything was possible. I thoroughly planned on living my adult life in a high-tech utopia where robots, jet packs, and flying cars were a regular part of the everyday American experience.

Obviously, this future did not come to fruition.

Now don’t get me wrong, we have wonderful tools and gadgets that make the daily grind more tolerable and also allow us to mock the way our parents lived. And much of this technology was unimaginable 30 years ago. The internet has certainly changed all of our lives forever. The DVR has revolutionized the way we watch TV and saved countless marriages. But they’re not as cool as robots. Or jet packs. Or flying cars.

Not only are our current automobiles unable to take flight, but the vast majority of them still run on gasoline. Inefficiently, I might add. After a hundred plus years of the internal combustion engine, you’d think we’d be smart enough to find a fuel source that doesn’t involve raping the landscape and giving unspeakable power to the most unstable regions of the world. Unfortunately, we’re not.

I thought this was supposed to be the future?

And where are these futuristic, clean energy sources? Where’s cold fusion? Where’s that thing Doc Brown used to turn garbage into 1.21 gigawatts? By this point, you’d think we’d have at least embraced solar power. After all, there’s only a giant ball of fire in the sky that rains immense amounts of energy onto our planet every single day. I’m no scientist, but at some point we might want to take advantage of this phenomenon.

Younger, precocious me also thought the human race would spend the 21st century  exploring the vast reaches of universe. But instead of pushing the interstellar envelope and boldly going where no man has gone before, our country currently has no manned space program and is forced to bum a ride to the heavens with the Russians. Really? The Russians? We should be ashamed of ourselves.

Much of the sci-fi I grew up watching and reading portrayed a bleak tomorrow where technology ends up becoming mankind’s ultimate undoing. Well, needless to say, I do not fear any kind of dystopian future because human beings clearly lack the ambition to even invent the robots and artificial intelligence needed to someday lead to our ironic demise. And that makes me sad.

At this point in my life, it’s clear most of the advanced technology that was implicitly promised to me during my boyhood will not be invented in my lifetime. If at all. But could someone please do me a favor of create a robot that cleans my bathroom? It’s really the least you could do.

Fast Times, Slow Media

Very often I find myself wringing my hands and trying to figure out what’s wrong with this country. This week marked another failure of popular American culture when we collectively decided to disregard the 30^th anniversary of a true cinematic masterpiece: Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

On August 13^th, 1982 Fast Times entered theaters and changed things. The movie’s impact may have been subtler than other groundbreaking films, but make no mistake, it made its mark on the industry. For one, this hilariously honest depiction of the highs (pun intended) and lows of modern teenage life basically created the teen movie genre. Name all the teen movies you remember that were released pre-Fast Times. Now think of all the ones that came out afterwards. Without this seminal film there is no Sixteen Candles, there is no Breakfast Club, there is no Ferris Bueller’s Day Off… in essence there is no John Hughes. And how could we have had the ‘80s without John Hughes?

“Hey, I know that dude.” Happy 30th, Spicoli.

Fast Times was the beginning of Cameron Crowe’s film career as well as the big break for several prominent actors. Sean Penn, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Forest Whitaker, Nicolas Cage, Anthony Edwards, Judge Reinhold, and Eric Stoltz all roamed Ridgemont’s hallways and went on to have lengthy careers. Many of these thespians won Academy Awards, and Phoebe Cates got to marry an Oscar winner.

Part of the reason Fast Times holds up so well, despite being so incredibly rooted in ’80s pop culture, is because it takes teenagers seriously and deals with universal American experiences that are as real today as they were in 1982. The movie tackles frank subject matter most filmmakers don’t have the balls to put in today’s teen movies. Sex, masturbation, abortion, blow job lessons…

The only way you’re allowed to address teenage sexuality in contemporary cinema is if one of your teens is a vampire who’s too physically powerful to actually have sex with his mortal girlfriend. And the fornication that takes place in Ridgemont isn’t mature or sexy or romanticized. It’s awkward and ugly and awful. In other words, it’s just like actual teen sex. Every viewing of this opus reminds us of our own sexual awakenings and how horribly un-erotic sex can be with an “audio consultant” in a baseball dugout.

Yet despite this movie’s endurance and contribution to our popular culture, I haven’t heard bubkis about its anniversary. The closest thing to a tribute I’ve seen was Yahoo’s half-assed “where are they now” piece.  Hey, Yahoo… I know what Sean Penn is up to. He’s pretty good at letting us know. And I just assume Judge Reinhold is desperately trying to get Beverly Hills Cop 4 green lit.

Okay, Vanity Fair did this reunion pic. But that was back in March. Doesn’t count.

Where’s the respect? Where’s the media coverage? Where’s the special edition Blue Ray that’s overrun with cool features and documentaries? Where’s the commemorative coffee table book? Where’s the collectible chess set? Where’s the usual Hollywood shamelessness that milks historic movies for every last dime on its anniversaries?

Maybe I’m alone on this. Maybe I’m the only one who wishes we’d had a reasonably worthwhile tribute this week to Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Well, me and the guy who played Mark Ratner. That guy could really use the paycheck.