Thoughts on Man of Steel Trailer #2

I've been fooled by more-sizzle-than-steak director Zack Snyder before, but nonetheless I'm very excited by this new trailer for his upcoming Superman movie, Man of Steel. It looks as though Snyder will at least attempt to capture some of the more important elements of the mythos: why Superman does what he does, what it means to be a good person, the pain of balancing two sides of a dual nature, the enduring love of two sets of parents, the importance of supporting the rule of law when it's the right thing to do.

Judging by the trailer this film will probably overplay the angst-ridden elements of the Superman story while underplaying the joy and wonder so important to the character. If it manages to tell a compelling story I can live with that choice in the hopes that sequels will show a Superman who's grown into the role and a public that's more supportive of a guy who's trying to give them a helping hand. In fact, that sort of development would nicely parallel the evolution of the character in the comics: he started as a rather anarchist rogue, feared by criminals and the public as much as Batman was. Only later did he become the "big blue boy scout" most fans are familiar with today.

There's one pretty awe-inspiring moment in this trailer: when Superman launches himself into space. The short sequence really captures the otherworldly majesty of Superman's ability to fly.

My expectations are still tempered by Snyder's track record, but now my opinion is one of hopeful, guarded optimism.

Crashdown

I've been a big space buff since I was a child. I've devoured innumerable books, documentaries, television shows and films about the still-new history of human spaceflight. But it was only this weekend that I began to wonder about an improbable but not impossible scenario.

Back in the days of the Mercury, Gemini and Apollo programs, space capsules with returning astronauts would land at sea; they'd parachute into the ocean in a target zone relatively close to ships of the US Navy. Said ships would retrieve the capsule and astronaut.

Sometimes capsules would land quite far away from their intended landing zones, meaning astronauts would have to wait, bobbing in their capsule, for the Navy to find them. But what if the opposite occurred? Sometimes capsules splashed down within a mere kilometre of the recovery zone. What if one of those capsules came down right on target - onto the deck of one of the recovery ships?

There are many factors at play here. Presumably radar and spotters aboard ship would quickly figure out that the capsule was going to land really, really close. Is an aircraft carrier nimble enough to dodge a falling capsule once the captain realizes there could be a collision? If so, no problem, and an easy pickup. But if not...

Weight is another factor. Mercury capsules held one astronaut, Gemini, two, Apollo, three. None had braking rockets, unlike Soviet capsules, designed to land on dry land. Even landing on water could be quite rough for the astronauts, so slamming into a flight deck might be disastrous. Would the astronauts survive? Would the flight deck be severely damaged? What if a capsule landed in the middle of a patrol boat rather than an aircraft carrier? Or what if it came down scraping along the side of the conning tower before it actually hit the deck? Would there be an earsplitting yet cartoonish "BONG" as the capsule slammed into the ship?

I wonder about these things sometimes.

A Pair of Superb Teachers

Two more of my freelance articles have been published in the ATA News. You can read them here and here. I felt very privileged to interview Dr. Julius Buski and Fran Galbraith for these stories!

Blue Snowmobile

A toy snowmobile: the perfect Christmas gift for the boy who's growing up in wintry northern Manitoba. I hope I put on some pants before trying it out on the drifts. Mom and Dad still have the desk behind me, as well as the bronze or brass pitcher.

December Frost

It's not even winter yet
Yet here I stand among the frosted trees
Trees weighed down with skins of ice
Ice blanketing snow
Snow blanketing earth
Earth leaning back languidly
Languidly condemning us to five more months of yuck.

Star Trek Into Darkness...But Then Back to TV, Please

I enjoyed Star Trek (2009) immensely, and I'm hoping that Star Trek Into Darkness will be even better. But as exciting as this trailer looks, it also further convinces me that Star Trek's best destiny remains on the small screen. Huge, action-packed adventures are fine for feature films, but whatever happened to boldly going where none have gone before? Whatever happened to exploring strange new worlds?

Star Trek has always been at its best when it addressed questions of philosophical, moral or scientific importance. We haven't seen a true science fiction issues-based film Trek since The Voyage Home, and even that was in the context of saving Earth (again). You can do the big stories on weekly television too (if not on as grand a scale), but you can also craft more thoughtful stories. And you don't have to wait four years between adventures...

Nonetheless, I've enjoyed most of J. J. Abrams' work thus far and I'm sure that Star Trek Into Darkness will be a rollicking adventure. But I'd like to see more science fiction in my science fiction, please.

Of Christmas Parties Past

Nine years ago this month, Sylvia and I attended a Christmas party held for staff of then Lieutenant Governor Lois Hole. It was at this party I obtained the only and only photo I have of myself with Lois, and thankfully it's a good one.

I have several fond memories of this event: Sylvia in her Emma Peel-esque spy dress, Lois' very kind remarks about my work during her speech to the staff, chatting with Lois' aides-de-camp and administrators. In a way, serving as Lois' speechwriter was a queer sort of prologue to my work at the Alberta Legislature; I'd run into quite a few familiar faces after making the transition from Hole's to the Official Opposition.

Unfortunately this Christmas affair of 2003 was Lois' last; by Christmas of 2004 she was too sick with cancer to host another, and she passed away in early 2005. But her memory lives on in the many thousands of lives she touched during her tenure as author, philanthropist, gardener and inspirational political figure.

Sherman Style

While I greatly enjoyed my time at the Official Opposition, I always had mixed emotions about one annual project: the video required for the Legislature Press Gallery Christmas party. They were fun to script and shoot, but assembling the required resources always took a disproportionate amount of time and energy at a very busy time of year. So when I congratulate my former colleague Amy McBain for pulling this together, I do so with complete sincerity because I know how much work this sort of thing requires. Good work, Amy! My favourite moment: Dr. Swann's dance in the parking garage.

A Tale of Two Bonds

Warning: Spoilers for SKYFALL, the latest James Bond film, follow. 

Skyfall ranks among the best of the Bond films, but it does suffer from two weaknesses: there are a number of plot holes and continuity errors, and the film's two themes are somewhat at odds with each other.

As with many Bond films, Skyfall opens with an exciting and elaborately-staged chase scene. This time Bond is after a stolen list of undercover Western agents who've infiltrated various terrorist organization. The list isn't really that important; it's the film's plot device, meant only to set the movie in motion, and as such it is at least a more realistic conundrum than the various conquer-the-world plots we've seen from previous Bond movies. Like the previous two Daniel Craig Bond efforts, Skyfall remains relatively grounded in reality, outrageous stunts and improbable coincidences aside.

Unfortunately Bond is accidentally shot by a fellow agent just as he's about to recapture the list. He falls off a moving train while it's crossing a high trestle, and Bond's limp, seemingly lifeless body crashes into the river far below, becoming part of the elaborate opening titles sequence. This time around Adele provides the opening song, a haunting and dramatic melody foreshadowing the big changes to come to the franchise.

While Bond is presumed KIA, Dame Judi Dench's M is left to deal with the fallout of the loss of the list and several agents, Bond included. In many ways Skyfall is very much M's story, and the film is all the stronger for it. Not only is she being forced into retirement, M will be called to face a public inquiry into her competency and that of MI-6 while also facing the wrath of a rogue agent who's intent on revenge for perceived wrongs. Dench's M handles all these troubles with aplomb and steel; as a character, she is in many ways more admirable than Bond himself.

When MI-6 is subjected to a terrorist attack orchestrated by the film's as-yet-unseen villain, he returns from the dead and shows up on M's doorstep, willing to take up the fight for Queen and country yet again. But is he really ready to go back on duty? Exhausted both mentally and physically, Bond throws himself back into action despite his many weaknesses - and lives are lost because of it. When Javier Bardem's Raoul Silva shows up - charismatic, intelligent, powerful, sexually voracious and perhaps insane - Bond is ill-prepared to deal with him, and in fact winds up inadvertently furthering Silva's plans. Bond allows Silva to get dangerously close to M, and in the end Bond and M go on the run, eventually finding themselves with only one option: make themselves Silva's only targets to reduce further MI-6 casualties and hope they can ambush the villainous ex-agent before he kills them both...

Sam Mendes' direction is well-suited to what turns out to be largely a character piece punctuated with the requisite action beats. Bond, M, the new Q, Silva and a couple of new characters I shan't spoil any further are well-drawn and believable, with commanding performances all round. The cinematography is typically lush, making the most of the film's various exotic locations; a night-time battle is particularly gorgeous and compelling.

However, there are some flaws. A continuity issue with Bond's wounds is distracting, but not fatal (pun intended). Silva's omnipotence stretches credulity, and at least three characters make stupid decisions that serve only to move the plot forward - a transparent flaw of lazy screenwriting that annoys audiences and harms the credibility of characters.

But the film's inability to balance two competing themes is what really detracts from the film's final impact. Without giving too much away, Skyfall is clearly meant to serve as a bridge of sorts, showing the final maturity of the Craig Bond and settling him into more conventional Bond adventures. The "reboot" phase is over. In order to prepare audiences for what's to come, Bond's dialogue is now peppered with one-liners and puns of the sort we're more accustomed to seeing from earlier Bonds like Moore and Connery. A couple of scenes are a little ham-handed in their efforts to reference the earlier films while at the same time differentiating between old and new; it gets a little schizophrenic. And while part of me cheered the nostalgic setup that serves as the film's coda, another part rebelled: after taking remarkable chances with the Craig reboot, have the producers at last lost their courage? That remains to be seen.

Despite these flaws, Skyfall is almost as good as Craig's first outing as Bond, Casino Royale, better than most of the Roger Moore outings and even better than the weaker Sean Connery installments. The character arcs of both M and Bond are compelling and believable, the supporting players are likeable and the emotional beats fitting and quite correct. 008 out of 0010.

Sunflowers and Corn, 1974

This photograph from Mom and Dad's collection of old slides might be more compelling had it been shot from a different angle, but I tried to spruce it up by playing with Photoshop's HDR settings.

Pieces of The Paranoid Web

Long before I started this blog, I took advantage of Shaw's old web hosting service to set up a primitive web page. I've long since forgotten how to do this sort of work, but I remain proud that I managed to slap something together. Here are some of the page elements:

Water on Mercury

While space exploration of Mars tends to get the lion's share of media attention, I'm riveted by the news that NASA's Messenger spacecraft has detected strong evidence that the planet Mercury harbours water ice at its poles, and possibly even organic matter. It seems hard to believe that a planet with temperatures that can reach nearly 500 degrees Celsius could have ice anywhere, but Mercury's poles get very little exposure to the sun so temperatures are much, much lower. Apparently the shade of deep craters also helps preserve the ice.

As we learn more about our solar system, it seems more and more likely that we'll find extraterrestrial life somewhere within Sol's orbit - probably only microbes, but even that would be a stunning new paradigm for human beings to accept. I am profoundly grateful to live in an era when humanity's best and brightest are discovering so many new wonders.

Superman's Debut

Inspired by Allan Sampson's hilarious take on Batman's debut.

And the Winner Is...

I figure 48 hours is enough time to wrap up a contest on a little-seen blog with no real prizes, so I'm happy to announce that Menage a Jeff, the only entrant, came the closest to identifying all the various bits of ephemera found in my Pop Culture Diorama. Here's MaJ's winning entry, with my comments in bold:

"Ménage à Jeff" said... Lots of clues you give, but maybe I don't have them all:

Upper row - promo insert for The Road Warrior

promo insert for The Searchers


I would call these "lobby card reproductions," but close enough
Superman's cape (not a step)
Correct
Earl's toy army man, green army (rifleman)
This was actually a promo army man from the Army Men PC came of the 90s, but close enough
3D glasses, red/blue anaglph, so old-fashioned... I am guessing from Creature From The Black Lagoon
Almost - they were boxed with Robot Monster on VHS
Promo model Daily Planet building, Superman Returns
Not quite; it came with a DC Direct Perry White action figure
Mid row - Hallmark NCC 1701 7 Galileo shuttlecraft Christmas ornament with Spok voice
I wish! It's a Johnny Lightning Galileo with no lights or sounds
Enter The Dragon promo insert
Same notation as The Searchers and The Road Warrior, above
I want to say the thing on the far right is a lirpa, but I'm sue it isn't. But it should be.
It's the spear from a Tarzan action figure set
Bottom row - promo insert for "The Wild Bunch"
Close enough
Ear'ls toy army man, chartreuse army (rifleman)
See note for green army man
7 poker ships from Fallout: New Vegas (Left top to bottom: Vault 21, Atomic Wrangler, Ultra Luxe, Lucky 38 Platinum Chip; Right top to bottom: Tops, Steve Bison, Gomorrah) - you lucky bastard, by the way
Correct
Green Lantern action figure green lantern
Correct
Green Arrow action figure green handcuff arrow
Correct
How The West Was Won promo insert
Close enough, see above
King Kong
Incorrect. It's actually Cheetah, Tarzan's chimp pal, part of the same action figure set that included the spear
Captain Kirk action figure Type 3 Phaser Rifle (possible prototype used by Kirk on Gamma Hydra)
Correct
Now for the flat-out guesses:

Lex Luthor's chair (maybe Perry White, or JJJ, but my guess is LL)
Soooo close! It's J. Jonah Jameson's chair
Hawkman helmet
Correct
Six pearl-headed steel pins from Sylvia's sewing kit (or maybe your mom's - does Sylvia sew? I do not know.)
They came with the frame
Olive Green broadcloth background, probably came with box
Correct

Congratulations, Menage a Jeff! As promised, you may now choose three items from the above list to be featured in a (no doubt ridiculous) short story penned by yours truly. Choose wisely!

Hero Histrionics

Bob Haney was the true master of histrionic comics melodrama! Poor Batman, so distraught over the death of Batman Jr. that he starts speaking like Lois Lane. And just look at how Superman reacts! The anguish, the pathos! "BATMAN!"

Thank goodness it was all a big mistake.

Pop Culture Diorama

Last year I assembled this diorama to decorate the theatre room. Since then I've rearranged the whole room, and I've moved the diorama to my office, jiggling several pieces out of place in the process. Rather than put the whole thing back together the way it was, I think I'll switch out some pieces and create a new display.

For fun, can you identify each item I've enshrined in this temple of pop culture? If you think you can, post your answer in the comments. Whoever scores the highest earns the right to direct me to write a short story featuring any three of the items in question, said story to be finished before Christmas day.

Ghost Rally 1 & 2

I really love scanning my old negatives and discovering photos I never even knew existed. Some of these photos are wonderful, but many are frustrating: out of focus, underexposed. One such shot features an unknown volleyball player, probably one of my friends, but the image is too dark to make out his face, even with extensive photomanipulation. So instead I started playing around and seeing if I could transform the image into something interesting. The results are above; the original image, below.

Pitfall Sean and Earl

"The garden - filled with alligators, just like a pit in Pitfall Harry!"
"We'll have to jump for it!"
"GO!"

Not Green Arrow's Finest Moment

While Superman has long been one of my favourite comic book characters - if not the favourite - I often prefer the stories featuring second-tier characters such as Green Arrow (aka Oliver Queen) and Black Canary (aka Dinah Lance), mostly because it seems like the writers and artists feel more comfortable taking chances and exploring the boundaries of the medium.

For example, during the "Dollar Comic" era of World's Finest, when each issue was super-sized and featured a half-dozen characters in four different stories, I looked forward to the Black Canary/Green Arrow stories most, because I enjoyed their tempestuous relationship.

When I first read this issue - #253, cover-dated November 1978 - I was only nine years old, and I thought Black Canary was being kind of mean to her boyfriend. I took their argument at face value, missing the nuance entirely, because I hadn't learned about the birds and the bees yet...nor the menstrual cycle:

"This Earth 2 deal, going home, finding yourself, all of it's part of the mood you get in. A few days, you'll be over it." 

"Do you seriously think my problems are biological? That I'm like a faucet you can turn on and off?" 

It seems pretty clear to me that Oliver is attributing Dinah's current feelings to her period - edgy stuff for a comic book allegedly targeted at kids! From an adult perspective, Green Arrow's dismissive behaviour is revealed as almost hilariously sexist and blockheaded; my sympathies now lie entirely with Dinah. No wonder their on-again, off-again relationship didn't work out in the end.

Mission: Unfashionable

Today I watched both the last episode of the original Mission: Impossible TV series, followed by the first episode of its late 80s revival. The original series ended on March 30, 1973; the revival premiered on October 23, 1988. Watching the two episodes back to back was an interesting exercise in observing how the show's formula remained the same while all the aesthetics had evolved dramatically.

While watching the finale of the first series, I noted with some amusement the loud home decor and fashions that so typified the era. One of the bad guys wore a shocking ensemble comprised of loud white, red and green pants, a pink fishnet tank top, brown leather coat and porn-star mustache. He worked in an apartment with truly regrettable wood paneling and a bright orange shag carpet.

The revival's premiere, on the other hand, featured far more spartan aesthetics; the men all wore professional-looking business suits, and decor was muted, angular, less cozy and more stark. The contrast was striking.

The producers, however, clearly enjoyed the original series and did their best to respect it. They brought back Peter Graves to reprise the role of Impossible Missions Force team leader Jim Phelps, hired Phil Morris, son of Greg Morris, to play the son of his father's character, kept Bob Johnson as the always unseen voice who provided Jim with the mission of the week, and they even rehired Lalo Schifrin to update the iconic music. So perhaps it's no surprise that they also kept the so-called "dossier scene," in which Phelps selects which agents are to be used for the current mission. Of course, instead of a paper dossier Phelps as in the original, in the revival Phelps used a high-tech (for the time) computer and wall screen to choose the team. The apartment colour scheme, though, remains the same: black, white and silver, though the furnishings and decor reflect 80s style rather than that of the 60s or 70s.

The first few episodes of the revival series were remakes of scripts from the original series; the revival initially began as an effort to create new content for the 1989-90 television season despite a writer's strike. But the strike ended sooner than anticipated, allowing the show to truly pick up where the original had left off, though with big 80s hair, fancier computers, blander clothes (except perhaps on the women), CDs and a lot more neon.

I watched the revival on and off while attending university, but I don't remember the series well enough to render final judgement. I do find it interesting that on DVD the picture quality of the original series far outshines that of the revival; I can only assume that the revival was shot, or at least edited, on video rather than film. It remains entertaining.

Amazon Recommends

To be fair, I haven't watched Prometheus yet, so perhaps there's a vital scene featuring tart tins...

The Near Miss

On November 12, Sylvia and I drove to Tim Horton's for drinks. On our way back, travelling south on 178th street just north of the 98th avenue intersection, we began to slow for that intersection's red light. I try to maintain situational awareness at all times while I'm driving - checking my mirrors, glancing around as much as possible - so I don't like to say that another vehicle "came out of nowhere."

But the white sedan that suddenly screeched by on our right hand side certainly seemed to come out of nowhere. It was going far too quickly to avoid rear-ending the last of the vehicles waiting at the light, and I grimaced, expecting the worst.

The driver veered onto the snow-covered median. His momentum was so great that despite the piled snow he plowed down the length of the median, six or seven car lengths, popping off the end and into the intersection, swerving right, cutting off the first car lined up at the light. He then nonchalantly drove west on 98th avenue as if nothing had happened.

It was either an impressive (if reckless) feat of automotive skill or profoundly lucky happenstance. Either way, I'm grateful and somewhat dumbfounded that no one was hurt. Stay careful out there.

The Industrial Artist

While it's true that Mr. Pottinger destroyed my bowl on the lathe, I still think he was a pretty good teacher. Despite my struggles with leather working and ceramics, he was patient and did a good job of explaining key concepts. And I still enjoy recalling his recitation of the five senses, delivered in a singsong Caribbean accent:

"What are the five senses? Taste, touch, smell, hearing and sight. But there is a sixth sense, the most important sense of all! What is this sixth sense? COMMON sense!"

One day I endured a personalized version of this short lecture. Bored and distracted, I placed a leather punch in a shallow pool of water (used to cure the leather, or some other arcane process) and started tapping it with my mallet just to see the water ripple. Mr. Pottinger caught me and said sternly, "You are not using your common sense!" He was right, and I guiltily returned to making my leather bookmark.

Mr. Pottinger's wife was a librarian, a very joyful woman, and I went to school with their children, Clayton and Nevin. Strangely enough Nevin and I wound up on the same dorm floor - Main Kelsey - when we studied at the University of Alberta a few years later. I've always been a little sad that I didn't talk with him much; he seemed like a cool guy, but our interests were fairly divergent so we never really hung out together.

I haven't thought about the Pottingers for years, but of late I find myself contemplating the past more than usual - more than is healthy, probably. But when the future seems uncertain (speaking only in terms of my career), I suppose it's natural to take comfort in what's gone before.

Woodsturning

I snapped protective goggles over my eyes then leaned forward, carefully balancing my detail gouge on the lathe's tool rest. With my free hand I snapped the lathe's power switch into the ON position; the block of dark wood mounted on the spindle began to turn, slowly at first, then faster and faster, the revolutions transforming the wood into a hazy blur of barely restrained motion.

Brow furrowed, I slid the gouge along the tool rest, closer and closer to the spinning block, heart pounding, beads of sweat breaking out on my teenage skin. I took a deep breath and pushed the gouge that final millimetre, its tip scoring the wood with a screech, curls of oak and a rain of sawdust spraying in small arcs as I carved away the excess matter to release the bowl that my teacher claimed lay waiting to be released.

Hesitant at first, my confidence grew as the lathe's noise and the hijinks of my fellow students faded into the background, blocked out by my steadily intensifying focus. There was only the spindle, the gouge, my hands and most importantly, the dark wood. Second by second, I was writing my will upon the wood, whittling away at nature.

I turned my attention to the centre of the wood, resetting the lathe, switching to a hollowing tool to carve out the block's centre, friction heating the dark oak, my nostrils filling with the scent of burning forest. My eyes flicked to the old black-and-white analog clock high on one wall of the lab; only a few minutes until the dismissal bell would ring. But I was calm. With the bowl's cavity hollowed out, I was ready for the last step: fine-tuning the detail on the outer rim.

Just as I was switching tools, our instructor, Mr. Pottinger, approached, shaking his head. He yanked the gouge from my hand and I stepped back, startled, unable to mouth a word of protest as he examined my work.

"No, no, no," he said. "This is all wrong. Look, watch - "

And he slid the gouge forward, a little too hard, a little too fast. The bowl exploded into several large pieces and an innumerable number of fine chips. I stood in shock, staring at the now-empty spindle, still humming away obediently though relieved of its burden.

Mr. Pottinger shrugged. "Oh well," he said. "You'll have to start again from the beginning." No apologies, no explanations.

I was too deferential to the teachers I revered to protest. I swallowed my anger and humiliation and began again two days later. I finished that second bowl, and it remained in my parents' China cabinet for years, storing knickknacks. But all these years I've always believed the first bowl would have been better.

Waikiki Lights

Sylvia and I honeymooned in Hawaii back in 2008. I took a few minutes one night to photograph the busy street outside our Waikiki hotel, setting a long exposure to capture the flickering torches and whizzing traffic. I think this turned out fairly well.