The Joker: Death Be Not Proud

     One of the problems with pushing the envelope is that eventually you reach a point where you go so far, your audience becomes indifferent.  Think about all the celebrities who have made their reputations not so much on content, but on controversy.  Sooner or later, it wears thin, and even if there is some genuine quality to speak of, there is always a tipping point where character becomes caricature.

       This applies to fictional beings as well as flesh-and-blood.  When a character has been around for a long time, the creative powers-that-be can find themselves in a position of frustration, attempting to find new directions in which to go without becoming repetitive and stale.  Sometimes the character simply gets written off, but that's not always an option, and so the boundaries get pushed further and further in order to give that character somewhere to go.  When this happens, quite frequently, the character gets taken so far that they become ludicrous, or simply boring.

     Which is how I've come to view The Joker of late.

Classic Joker

   The Joker is one of those characters that everyone knows.  He's Batman's arch-enemy and has been a regular staple in the comics since 1940.  He's been portrayed in live action and animation regularly since the '60s, and has been immortalized in countless action figures, video games, books, etc.  He's DC's single most recognizable villain, and is arguably the most famous comic book villain of all time.  He's been revamped, rethought, and reinterpreted more times than I can count, from goofy prankster to remorseless killer to avatar of chaos and everywhere in between.  He's visually distinct and remarkably memorable, possibly due to tapping in to the seemingly ubiquitous (and often questionable) fear of clowns in popular culture, and like many clowns, he can be funny, scary, or both.  Most importantly, he is the opposite side of Batman's coin - chaos to order, anarchy to law, dispassion to compassion, levity to severity.  Officially, he has no real name ("Jack Napier" is not recognized as official by DC), and his origins are murky...his past is 'multiple choice', in his own words, which makes him work very well as a dark and dangerous force of nature.

   He's undeniably important in the Batman universe, and he's one of those characters whose absences become significant and portentous in and of themselves.  All that said, The Joker's never been one of my favorite characters.  That's not to say I don't like him - far from it.  I just find that a little bit goes a long way where Joker is concerned, and there are other villains who I find more interesting, enjoyable, or compelling.  Where quality villains are concerned, Gotham City is an embarrassment of riches, after all.  I find Joker's presence as primary antagonist works best in concise doses, and because his stories to tend be important and iconic, it comes down to a question of quality over quantity.  That's speaking historically, though; lately, that ratio has been reversed.

Joker: Inspiring coulrophobia since 1940.

    Once upon a time, Joker's crimes were usually more of a game, a darkly whimsical battle of wits with the Caped Crusader...a dance, almost.  (With the devil?  By the pale moon light?)  Indeed, there have been frequent allusions on the Joker's part to their relationship being a kind of love, which can be a little disturbing when you consider the personalities involved, but actually does make a kind of sense.  (At least in one direction; it's hardly mutual.)  In the milder era of the Silver Age, Joker rarely even killed, but his original and Bronze Age-forward paths have always been littered with bodies.  He's always been depicted as completely insane, with no regard for life, and as someone who finds death, pain, and humiliation funny.  He's narcissistic, hedonistic and cruel.   I'm not going to attempt to psychoanalytically dissect him here...there have been any number of discussions of Joker's madness; I'm more concerned with how the character plays out.  Ultimately, what this translates into is a regularly recurring character who materializes to wreak havoc out of a sense of amusement, and laughs in the faces of those he's hurt, or who would stop him.

    Over the years, Joker has been responsible for some of the most violent and jarring events in Batman continuity.  He crippled and molested (to what degree remains questionable) Batgirl, tortured her father, brutally murdered the second Robin, killed Commissioner Gordon's wife, and has slaughtered countless other victims over the years.  (He'd actually killed Mister Freeze at one point, but that death didn't last.)   Once, when he thought he was dying, he 'Jokerized' the rest of DC's villains; admittedly, this crossover, "The Last Laugh" is possibly the worst DC's ever done.   Indeed, the level of his crimes have led directly to Batman's obsession with containing him, which feeds into Joker's ego and sense of their relationship.  It seems as though each time he appears, he (and his writers) feel a need to outperform the last engagement, usually to the tune of a higher body count.

     And that's where I feel the problem lies.  Possibly because of a flair for the dramatic, possibly because of a need to push the envelope, possibly because of the complete desensitization of the creators and audience alike, maybe some combination therein, Joker has of late become completely over the top....even for him.  He no longer even seems human...often, his dialogue bubbles are written in a scratchy font more appropriate to a demon than a mortal.  Another character cut off Joker's face...with Joker's willing agreement, mind you, which he then later strapped back on, visible muscle grinning beneath his own decaying flesh.  When that particular bit of grotesquerie was finally undone, in his most recent comics outing, we get yet another Joker-toxin attack, this time as a sort of plague to turn all of Gotham into giggling zombies.  We've seen countless variations on this idea before, but this most recent turn just screams 'bigger, louder, more bodies', hordes spread across the entire city, piles of corpses, all for the goal of the largest possible body count.    I feel it's impossible for any sane, balanced person to like this kind of a character; how can a rational person empathize with or relate to a character that exists for no other purpose but to express glee over pain and suffering?  Batman's villains are famously compelling, and Joker has been in his time as well, darkly so.  But lately...not so much.

  

Sadly, someone thought this was a good idea. 

    Batman's sworn oath of not killing always seems to become a little suspect where Joker is concerned.  It starts to strain credulity when a murderer this dangerous and hateful continues to be tossed back in a padded cell over and over, and no one seems willing to do anything about it.  (Well, it's been tried, but again...didn't last.)  Obviously, killing the Joker would be highly problematic for DC...as with most comic book villains, deaths don't tend to mean much, and even if they did try to keep him dead, then they'd not have him to work with.  But if you think about how it would translate to the real world, there's no way a personality like that would be allowed to endure.  Sooner or later, there'd be an 'accident' in prison, or something to that effect.  So when the writing keeps letting Joker become a bigger and bigger monster, it becomes harder and harder to rationalize how the other characters in this universe allow that to continue.

     Now, there is an argument to be made that Joker has become a living force of death and chaos simply out of narrative necessity.  The way Batman's been written over the last decade or so has made the Dark Knight into a seemingly all-knowing machine of a hero, unbeatable and unstoppable - so much so that in any "Batman vs. x" scenario, the answer is always Batman.  Indeed, I'm just waiting for the day when we see Batman take on a triple-tag-team of Galactus, Unicron and the Death Star, standing atop their shattered forms and brooding.  It's gotten to be a little much.  So it does make sense that his evil counterpart became as monumentally deranged as he did.  However, neither extreme makes for good writing or sustainable character interplay for any length of time.  It's really more predictable than anything - and what's worse, boring.

Possibly the most iconic image of evil in all of comics.

     Obviously, the days when Joker's diabolical plans consisted of hijacking a high school soda mission to distribute spare change to unsuspecting teenagers so he could lure them to a life of crime are over, except in pastiche format.  And that's fine - as comics have become darker and more sophisticated, the stakes for the characters have risen.  The issue that writers face is in how to make a compelling character work without simply going into literal overkill for its own sake.  It can be done - despite the high body counts in both series, the Arkham games and the Dark Knight Trilogy both presented logical, frightening and coherent adaptations of the Joker that managed to capture the essence of the character without careening off into mindless, pointless carnage.  My fear is that we may have reached the saturation point, and that all we may get from here out is just the same, only more numbing and repetitive.

   I hope not; Joker has been a tremendous villain in the past, and works better when his threats are more intimate and personal.  The recent Death Of The Family storyline was actually not bad conceptually, but got bogged down and buried by editorial excess and self-indulgent marketing.  It illustrates that there's still a great character in there, but it requires the patience and care to call it forth.  I am by no means saying that the Joker should not be evil, or deadly, or remorseless.  I'm simply trying to argue that there's a way to write the character so he retains some vestige of what made him such a popular character in the first place without relying on schlock.

Joker in live action over the years, chronologically.  I actually think this illustrates my point quite well.

   As a corollary to this, I'm also a little put off by how some members of the public respond to the character, or rather, to which version they do respond.  There are Joker figures targeted at small children...bright and playful, usually with purple cars with big mallets, that sort of thing.  I have to wonder how parents respond when their five-year-old asks to read a current Batman comic, if such things still happen.  On the flip side, I've heard a lot of adult fans talk about how 'awesome' the Joker is; even some who profess to dislike all comic characters, or all DC characters, except him, and I have to wonder what it is that's earning their admiration.  From my own experience, the people who voice this type of opinion are the kinds of people I generally try to avoid conversing with, the kinds of people who make you wish they had more stringent gun laws.  There seems to be a certain fascination with the character, not as a foil for Batman or for his own merits, but as a vehicle for reckless abandon and pure violence.  It makes me wonder what projected hostilities are being envisioned, if this modern Joker is their favorite, or the only character they like.   One further aside, I've encountered a handful of cosplayers who have appropriated the Joker...badly (i.e. usually in sloppy makeup and low-effort costumes) who use the costume, such as it is, as an excuse to behave obnoxiously...even rudely or aggressively...at conventions, screaming, shouting, shoving, etc.  Of course there are many excellent Joker cosplayers, in fact, it's usually pretty easy to tell the problematic ones apart from the good.  The lesser crowd tend to be the most egregious personalities combined with the least quality of work.  I find them rather symbolically appropriate of the kind of excesses Joker as a character himself has been given.

Because when he works, he works sooooooo well...

   Personally, I've always appreciated a Bronze Age take on the character, a true "Clown Prince of Crime", which was adapted wonderfully in Batman: the Animated Series.  Maybe I'm a little hidebound, but I vastly prefer Joker as a perennial sparring partner, a warped artist, a malevolent Moriarty, but still a human being, one can be beaten, albeit temporarily.  One who doesn't leave me with a vague feeling of either boredom or disgust.  Perhaps with DC's recent Convergence storyline, which supposedly will de-emphasize continuity in favor of quality stories, we may see a return to a more classic approach which will allow writers to be inventive without having to feel like they have to simply outdo their predecessors.

   Time will tell.  I'd really like to go back to enjoying Joker stories, and not having a general loathing of what the character has become.  I hope we see the character dialed back and returned to a more grounded, love-to-hate persona.  I look forward to seeing him again...  In fact, I can't wait to get a load of him.

REVIEW: The Flash (Season 1)

     DC Comics has historically been anchored by what's known as "The Trinity": Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, the Big Three flagship characters.  Over the last decade, there's been an initiative to elevate other core characters - two in particular - in the public eye.  Green Lantern has been one of those, with varying degrees of success across different media.  The other hasn't been quite as prominent until recently.  But now?  He's back....

...in a Flash.

   Yes, I'll take the easy jokes, too.  While The Flash as a character has been a staple in DC's animated works over the decades, he's not been as visible in live action.  He did feature in a short-lived 1990 TV series starring John Wesley Shipp as the title character, but otherwise, he's been absent from flesh-and-blood portrayals.  However, after a successful re-invigoration in the comics ("Rebirth"), Barry Allen was introduced as a guest star on the CW's Arrow TV series with an eye towards a spin-off.  That spin-off has just completed it's first season, with greater impact and popularity than the show that launched it, and has brought the Flash back into popular conscience.

Promotional poster, peppered with little comics nods throughout

    
     One quick word of warning: as this is a review of the season as a whole, spoilers may appear.

     Not to mince words, I love this show.  It's one of the very few programs which I feel an inclination to watch as close to real-time as I can, without 'getting around to it' via the DVR.  It's got an engaging cast, on-point scripts, energetic plotting, and above all, a refreshingly unapologetic stance towards its source material, which a lot of DC's recent live-action works have been sorely lacking.  This show knows it's a comic-book superhero show, and embraces it.  It doesn't shy away from the fantastical elements, but rather, does its best to make them coherent in a relatively plausible way.  Characters wear costumes, use 'code names' (the assignment of which is an ongoing gag with each new arrival), and there is a clear sense of enjoyment...even the shows' darker moments tend to be largely free from angst.

    After DC got a little too cavalier with its properties in the late '90s, they shifted towards the darker, more realistic and serious tone in its adaptations, as most exemplified by the Dark Knight Trilogy.  While this may work for Batman, it generally doesn't for DC's other main heroes.  So it's a wonderful change of pace to see Flash moving back in a direction of the sense of joy, of wonder, of fantasy and potential that has been DC's hallmark in the comics for so long.  This has the side effect of making Arrow look even more dour; Arrow is by no means a bad show, but every cross-over they do just makes Flash look more fun by comparison.  With the recent announcements of a new DC series, Legends of Tomorrow, which is also set in this same universe, and Supergirl, whose connection to this universe is as of yet unclear, it seems that DC may finally be learning how to let their characters be who they're supposed to be.  On television, at least.

Panabaker, Martin, Patton, Gustin & Cavanagh

     Grant Gustin anchors the show as the Scarlet Speedster and his alter ego, Barry Allen.  Gustin is clearly having a blast, and is also, I suspect, probably in the best shape of his life.  He brings a warmth and affability to Barry, while at the same time making him vulnerable, cocky, or even misguided as the situation calls.  In the pantheon of the Justice League, Barry has always been Mr. Nice Guy, even more so than Superman, and Gustin's portrayal makes him very hard to dislike.  His Barry has an infectiously cheerful personality, and clear delight in his abilities, making for a charming lead character.

Grant Gustin as The Flash

   The supporting cast is more than able - and like all CW shows, is extremely attractive.  Carlos Valdes and Danielle Panabaker play Barry's scientific support staff, Cisco Ramon and Caitlin Snow.  Comics fans will recognize those names, no doubt, and we've already been given hints as to their future destinies as Vibe and Killer Frost, respectively.  Both characters are smart and funny; they're both quirky and rather nerdy, but likeable and relatable.  It will be interesting to see their alternate identities emerge over time, even if Caitlin's arc is likely to be tragic.

   Jesse L. Martin is once again a badge-wielder, this time as Joe West, Barry's adoptive father (this series follows the post-Rebirth continuity, with Barry's mother dead and his father imprisoned for her murder, which forms the focus of the main plot of the first season).  Martin is charismatic as always, and brings real gravitas to the series.  Candice Patton plays Iris West, Joe's daughter, and Barry's sort-of sister, sort-of love interest.  If there is a weak point on the show, it's Iris, but that's less of a performance issue than it is a scripting one, with Iris suffering from being shoehorned into the whiny girlfriend with trust issues trope on the one hand, who's kept in the dark about what's going on by essentially the entire cast, for most of the season. As a result, that makes Iris come across as oblivious and needy, a problem which is made worse by the curious decision to have her only reciprocate Barry's interest in her when he's moved on to someone else.  Fortunately, by the end of the season these problems seem to have been addressed; we'll see how it moves forward.   Part of Iris' plotline revolves around Eddie Thawne, played by a curiously Jack Bauer-like Rick Cosnett, her father's partner and Iris' boyfriend, whose function on the show is to vary between Third-Point-in-a-Love-Triangle and Red Herring.  As Cosnett will not be a series regular next year, though, that will probably alter the show's approach.

Tom Cavanagh as The Reverse-Flash

     Perhaps the most fascinating character on the show is Dr. Harrison Wells, played by Tom Cavanagh, who serves as Barry's mentor and the man responsible for 'accidentally' unleashing chaos on Central City.  What we discover, though, is that Wells is actually Eobard Thawne, the Reverse-Flash, Barry's destined arch-enemy, who's working off of an agenda only really made clear at the end of the season.  Cavanagh's performance is fantastic, as the audience learns more and more of what he's up to while the other characters remain in the dark.  He's both kindly and sinister, sometimes simultaneously, and Cavanagh's interesting style of delivery gives much of his dialogue deeper meaning.  He manages to be convincing as both a cold-blooded killer and a concerned father figure.  Speaking of villains, Wentworth Miller is a recurring guest star, playing Captain Cold, another of the Flash's classic foes.  Miller appears to be having a ball with his character, and I suspect the writers enjoy having him around as well, as he's going to be among the core cast of the Legends spin-off.

     There's some wonderful referential casting as well.  John Wesley Shipp, star of the original Flash series, has a recurring role as Henry Allen, Barry's father.  Amanda Pays also appears in a few episodes as Dr. Tina McGee - the same character she played on the original series.  And in yet another return performance, Mark Hamill is back as the original Trickster, just as nutty as ever, but now with a young protege.   Stephen Amell, star of Arrow, makes a few guest appearances, as to several members of his recurring cast, and Amell's cousin Robbie is a frequent guest star as well as Ronnie Raymond, half of the hero Firestorm (Victor Garber plays Martin Stein, the other half.)  We've also season any number of classic and modern villains appearing - Heatwave, Captain Boomerang, Pied Piper, Weather Wizard, Rainbow Raider, Golden Glider, General Eiling, Peek-a-Boo, Deathbolt, The Mist, Girder, Everyman, Blackout, Multiplex, Simon Stagg...even the Bug-Eyed Bandit.  They're all referred to by both real name and their more colorful comics handles, though nothing, but nothing, beats the fact that the series has successfully introduced Gorilla Grodd into live action television.  That alone just makes me delighted.

I could just go ape...even bananas...with bad puns here, but I won't.  I'll just say: Oh my Grodd!

     The show's color palette is bright and sunny, and even with the show's in-plot tragedy of a catastrophic explosion one year in the past which has caused a great deal of fallout over the succeeding months, there's still a sense that this is a nice place to live.   I have to imagine that a good portion of the show's budget has to go into special effects, for they manage to come across sharp, clean, and highly effective, from the Speed Force elements to manifestations of Firestorm's powers or the blasts from Captain Cold's cold gun.  And did I mention Grodd?   In general, we've come a long way from hokier CGI on network television, but there's still clearly a lot of effort being made to keep Flash looking good.

    The writing is generally excellent, with the characters being evenly balanced and clearly conceived; even minor characters are given development.  The pacing is excellent; the show manages to maintain the same level of energy from start to finish.  The writers do a great job explaining many of the scientific (or pseudo-science) concepts they'd like viewers to comprehend; anything that tries to explain time travel has its work cut out for it, but this show even manages to discuss the different ways time travel has worked across other popular media.  The series does suffer a bit of birthing pain...the first few episodes seem to be trying to establish a tone while figuring out what that tone should be, but quickly gets it right and holds it for the rest of the season.  As mentioned, there are some issues regarding Iris' character, and the series seemed to have some problems figuring out what to do with Eddie as time went on.  And while I understand the need and logic of building a shared universe, the frequent crossovers and appearances of characters from Arrow can be distracting or even unnecessary.   While a crossover once or twice a season is fine, I'd like to see Flash be more reliant on its own world and characters in its second year.

     All in all, this show has been a ton of fun so far, and I sincerely hope they're able to maintain the level of energy and spirit they've shown so far.  The shows creators have already promised more for next season, including that most core of DC Comics plot devices: the Multiverse.  Indeed, the season cliffhanger has Barry disappearing into a time travel-caused wormhole, and one can only imagine the potential for alternate realities, pasts, and futures that may be headed our way, potentially opening up the entire DCU.  As debut seasons go, Flash has been highly on the mark, so we can only hope they manage to keep up the pace to a winning streak. 

   I'll stop with the stupid puns now.

FINAL RATING: 9 PAWS (OUT OF 10)

  

REVIEW: Gotham (Season 1)

     Well, I've spent enough time across the street for the moment; time to go back to my own yard.  So let's take a look at the first season of Fox's Gotham series, which ended last week.

   Right off the bat (ahem), allow me for the sake of integrity to mention that of all the many, many subjects in the worlds of science-fiction, fantasy, comic books, etc., none is so near or dear to me as Batman.  I literally cannot remember a time in my life when before I was a Batfan, going all the way back to toddler-dom.  I will not attempt to flog my credentials, but suffice it to say, I am rather well-versed in this particular corner of fiction.  Just a tad.  (If I manage to maintain this blog and you, whoever you are, manage to keep reading it, you'll probably hear me say this again, just a word of warning.)

     Gotham is a weekly TV series, airing 8PM on Monday nights on Fox, which purports to be the 'beginning' of the stories of Batman and his cast of allies and enemies.  The show's opening scene is the iconic and infamous murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne in Crime Alley, which is as good a starting point for jumping into this world as any.  However, while a young Bruce Wayne is one of the show's principal cast, the series primarily follows Detective James Gordon, years before he becomes the police commissioner, and it is through Gordon that we come to meet many of the famous personalities that make Gotham City so memorable.  So Gotham isn't necessarily the story of Batman, so much as it is the tale of everybody Batman knows later on, and how they all come to be the recognizable figures we all know and love.

    And that, right there, is the biggest problem the show has: it's effectively a prequel, and we are already aware of much of what must happen in order for the story to take the form we know.  There's a certain inevitability to the premise, and any thoughts of carving out a totally new track are negated somewhat by the show's marketing and promotions, which clearly let the audience know that these are the characters we know - or at least, they are destined to be so.    Anyone who has any sense at all of these characters isn't going to be terribly surprised by the developments on the show; rather, it becomes a question of when certain beats will happen, not if.  Admittedly, later in the season the show seems to become more comfortable with going outside the realm of comics continuity, but so far, the show has tended to lack spontaneity, surprise, or novelty.

   That lack is due to the simple fact that we're dealing with fascinating characters at points in their life before they become interesting.  There hasn't been a ton written about this part of the Batman story in comics or other media, so there are definitely details which can be filled in, but that doesn't always make for exciting television.  I think whenever audiences get to meet a compelling character, there's always eventually a desire to understand how that character became who they are, but that doesn't generally require a prequel to tell that part of the story.  Often, a single flashback will do.

   So Gotham, in order to compensate for this relative paucity of storyline, has begun introducing quite a significant number of Batman's supporting cast, including a large number of villains, with even more confirmed to appear in Season 2.  This has ended up giving the show a 'villain of the week' flair, and is a little odd, in that a number of Batman's foes are on their way to being established years before there IS a Batman...and quite a few are also considerably older than he is.  Now again, as a fan, this might be bothering me more than a casual viewer, but since we are talking about fairly well-known characters, it's hard to overlook.

  

Gordon and Bullock learn There Is No Hope In Crime Alley

     The other general issue shadowing the show is that it can't really decide what it wants to be - a police procedural, a buddy-cop drama about corruption, a soap opera, a mystery, a tribute (or pastiche) of other mob shows, or a straight-up adventure show about a superhero.  So it tries to be all of these things, and while it doesn't exactly fail at any of them entirely, it also doesn't quite succeed, either.  Instead, it creates a bit of a mash which leaves the show feeling uneven on a week-to-week basis, with some episodes far outstripping others in quality.  Initially the show leaned more towards grit and vice, with later episodes becoming proto-villain showcases, then finding a balancing act in the last few weeks, before stumbling in the finale.

     With that said, I actually do rather like and enjoy the show.  It's definitely been a messy first season, but I think a lot of that may be growing pains, and partially due to the series being extended after initially being picked up for only sixteen episodes.  My hope would be that it gets some sea legs now that they have a season under their belt, and can properly plan out a sophomore year.  At its worse, it's not so much bad as it is awkward or unwieldy, and if showrunner Bruno Heller and crew can do some judicious planning, they can get it running more smoothly.  In order to do so, they need to have some sharper scripts - some of the dialogue is snappy and on point, but a lot of it could stand to be cleaned up and energized, and they need to make some cast changes, and do a better job of balancing the characters.  Indeed, one character - she who will eventually become Poison Ivy - was touted as being a principal character in the lead-up to the show, but all but vanished after one early, minor appearance.   Two other supporting characters with a major plot thread disappeared at the mid-season break, and I don't believe have been seen or mentioned since.

    The elements are certainly there; obviously, we know the story and we know it works, so they just have to find ways to make it engaging on a consistent basis.   It certainly looks very slick - the show is filmed in New York, which has been digitally altered to make it familiar without being obviously recognizable, which is the only 'real life' place that works for Gotham.  The city appears seedy, faded, shadowy, scarred, and grim, but the energy comes through.  The designers have also opted to take a page out of Batman: The Animated Series designer Bruce Timm's playbook, by giving the costumes, sets, cars, etc, a timeless feel with cues and styles taken from multiple decades without clearly tying it to any.  Technology, while present, is not prevalent, and there are a lot of papers and books visible, while cellphones, personal computers, and the like, are generally not.  It gives the series something of a late '70s vibe, reminiscent of the French Connection or films of that era, which works beautifully.  Many of the principal characters' costumes have visual nods to their more iconic looks, some more subtle than others, enough to give a flavor of the characters without a full serving.

Carmine Falcone, Selina Kyle, Fish Mooney, Oswald Cobblepot, Edward Nygma

     For most part, the cast is very good, but again, suffers from some unevenness.  Ben McKenzie stars as Jim Gordon, and he makes for a likeable, supportable protagonist, but he does have a tendency to overact, even to bluster.  McKenzie seems to be growing into the role; certainly, his biggest help is Donal Logue as Harvey Bullock's initially-reluctant partner.  Logue has a style and charm all his own, and his performance brings life and energy to the cast around him.   The Gordon/Bullock dynamic grows and evolves over the season, as the characters come to understand and even like each other, and is one of the better relationships on the show.

     David Mazouz plays Bruce Wayne, who here is actually a bit older than his comics counterpart when his parents are killed, about thirteen as opposed to eight.  There's a certain awkwardness to Mazouz that's not quite natural, and I suspect that may simply be due to his age.  The same can be said of Camren Bicondova, who plays Selina Kyle, already heavily foreshadowing her future as Catwoman...actually, there's a certain resemblance to a young Michelle Pfeiffer which I have to assume is intentional.   Both Mazouz and Bicondova suffer a bit from 'obvious' acting, but in time I think they'll become less uncomfortable.   Sean Pertwee plays Alfred Pennyworth, in a much harder-edged, British-stiff-upper-lip portrayal of the character than audiences are used to seeing, but given the amount of focus on a violently-orphaned pre-teen, having a more stern father figure makes a great deal of sense.  Even so, Pertwee does still manages to work in a bit of charm and wry humor beneath the harder exterior.

    Gotham focuses as much on they who will someday be the villains as it does the heroes, and most central of these is Oswald Cobblepot, who quickly takes on the Penguin moniker here.  He's portrayed by Robin Lord Taylor, and the character is a far cry from the more traditional approaches to Penguin, but surprisingly it works rather well.  By starting the character off as a nervous, awkward, sycophantic yet ambitious mob flunky, it gives Taylor lots of room to grow the role and offers a clear trajectory for his character, rather than have him already established.   The Riddler, or rather, Edward Nygma, is also present, portrayed by Cory Michael Smith, but is actually on the side of the law when we first encounter him, as an almost hopelessly nerdy medical examiner's assistant working alongside Gordon.  Nygma is mostly played for laughs, but there's a definite arc in place for him, and as the season progresses we begin to see an unsettling darkness in the character that I suspect will make for fascinating viewing as the series progresses. 

   As with many other adaptations of the Batman mythos, Gotham also creates new characters, and none are more prominent than Fish Mooney, played by Jada Pinkett Smith.  Fish is a mob caporegime, plotting her own rise even as Penguin plots against her.  Fish is an interesting character, and Smith is clearly enjoying herself, playing the role in a melodramatic fashion that's actually quite entertaining.  She fits in well as a Batman villain, but a problem arises about halfway through the season (around the point at which I suspect the writers had to begin improvising when they realized they were getting a full order of episodes) when Fish's major arc ends.  She spends most of the second half of the season in a bizarre organ-trafficking subplot that ultimately goes nowhere, and renders her character - and screentime - somewhat pointless.   She's fun, but the writers clearly weren't sure what to do with Fish past a certain point.

David Mazouz as The Boy Who Would Be Bat.

   The most glaring problem in the cast, however, is Erin Richards as Barbara Kean, Gordon's fiancee.  A number of people have been suffering from the misconception that this Barbara is the future Batgirl, but that character is Jim Gordon's adopted daughter; Richards is in fact playing the character who becomes Gordon's first wife in the comics, and who happens to share a first name with her more famous niece.  Almost from the start, Barbara is a useless character, who serves only to cause soap-opera drama for her fiancee, including the requisite 'keeping secrets' trope of superhero adaptations, and a contrived romantic subplot involving lesbianism and drug use.  This subplot provides no practical purpose, and indeed seems only included in an attempt to be shocking, but is just plain bland, and eventually peters out.  Richards's role after the first few episodes seems forced, but rather than write her out, the show continues to give her screen time.  Mercifully, she vanishes for a stretch around mid-season, but returns with a vengeance embroiled in a late plotline that riffs off of Fifty Shades of Grey before dissolving into a laughably nonsensical component of the finale that sees her waving a knife around and babbling like a loon.  To be fair, much of the problem with Barbara lies in the hands of the writers, but Richards is a rather wooden performer who only serves to make Barbara brittle and obnoxious.

   Those represent the core characters, but there's a fairly large supporting cast, replete with names that will be familiar to casual viewers, and even more to comics fans:  The Flying Graysons, Leslie Thompkins, Lucius Fox, Sara Essen, Renee Montoya, Crispus Allen, Gillian Loeb, Ned Flass, Harvey Dent, Jonathan Crane, Tommy Elliot, Carmine Falcone, Sal Maroni, Victor Zsasz, Sionis, Buchinsky, The Red Hood Gang, and probably others I'm forgetting.  There's also a young man introduced who may or may not become The Joker, which frankly is a little heavy-handed, and rather unnecessary.

     Ultimately, Gotham's first season is one of schizophrenia, stemming largely from a lack of a clear idea of what it wants to be.  The whole show is predicated on the inevitable failure of its protagonists - for if Gordon and the police are successful, then what purpose would Batman serve?  As a result, we have characters who don't know what to do with themselves, for to do what would serve any other show would here render that same show moot.  The show struggles with a self-consciousness, and instead of being content to let the story flow, continues to introduce a succession of 'name' characters to hold attention, without regard to how inorganically it does so.  What this reveals, I'm afraid, is the weakness of the overall premise, because without all those names, there's simply not enough story to hold an audience's focus.  It might be a smart move to simply jump the story ahead a few years, rather than trying to move on a week-to-week basis, if the creators really feel they need to insert as many Batman elements into the show as they do.  In order for the show to feel natural and unforced, it would pretty much have to be a police procedural with mob story elements.  In order to keep the audience, it has to keep name-dropping in an artificial manner.   It ends up trying to be all things, but not really succeeding well at any of them.  Rather than a tapestry, it's more of a crazy quilt.
    

     In spite of all that, there's still something fun about the show, and it may just be that as someone who has a fairly well-established idea of what Gotham City is 'supposed' to be, I'm expecting too much.  There are certainly things to like, it's just tough to like most of them unequivocally.  I am, I fully admit, predisposed to like the show anyway, and I'll definitely keep watching, but I hope the show manages to get a better sense of self heading into the second season, and can make itself sharper, smarter, and cleaner. 

FINAL RATING: 5 PAWS (OUT OF 10)

REVIEW: Avengers: Age of Ultron

   Or as it could alternately be called, "Avengers 2: Would You Like Fries With That?"

    Let me preface this by saying I *loved* the first Avengers movie.   However, over the past few years, I've begun to worry about the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) becoming yet another victim of Disnefication...the process wherein Disney takes an existing artistic work or property, dumbs it down, and prostitutes it for an increasingly uncritical audience, yielding gobs and gobs of cash.  As novel and exciting as the MCU has been at points, there have been signs along the way of a slide into mediocrity.

   In this case, I really hate being right.  Let's take a look:

The official poster.  Which is basically the first film's, just more populated.

   Avengers: Age of Ultron is a colossal disappointment.  It's not new, it's not different; it follows the same formula as the first film.  It ignores developments of prior MCU entries, and leaves gaping plot-holes in the larger narrative.  It's loud, it's redundant, it's overly long, it's crowded with unnecessary cameos.  It substitutes Witty Banter for character development.  It's more concerned with chugging on to the next "Phase" of the MCU then with establishing its own tone or dealing with the ramifications of characters' actions to date.  It feels rushed, obligatory and trivial - it reminds me of several episodes of an Avengers cartoon strung together.  And ultimately, it's only real purpose is to (re-)introduce a handful of supporting characters, without any kind of growth for the major ones.  Frankly, I felt let down upon leaving the theater.

   The analogy that springs to mind is a comestible one, to wit: Disney/Marvel is producing fast food.  It's cheap, visually appealing, and easy, but packed with unnecessary calories and devoid of any nutritional value.  It's got a litany of simple ingredients (two all-new teammates, special Hulk, Widow, Cap, Thor, Hawkeye on an Iron Man bun), and comes preprocessed, with a devoted customer base ready to gulp it down and suck the grease from its fingers.  Sure, it might be enjoyable once in a while, but not when you go into dinner thinking you're getting a home-cooked meal.   And of course, it comes with a premium - in this case, with purchase of every meal, you get a killer robot.

   I wouldn't argue that any of the MCU movies are works of art, exactly, but several of them have managed to be fun and entertaining while possessed of some artistic merit.  This is not one of those - in fact, rather than having a beginning and ending, it just starts and stops, as if the audience were walking in to the middle of something ongoing.  Which in a sense is true, given the grander scheme of these interconnected movies, but that should still entail that each movie works on its own merits.  What we actually got should, by rights, be bookended by "Last time, on The Avengers..."  and "To Be Continued."

   What's really galling is the complete absence of consequence from the prior entries, in particular, Iron Man 3 and Captain America: The Winter Soldier.  Those films ended with certain predicaments, or changes to the characters, which are completely ignored in AoU.  For example, at the conclusion of Iron Man 3, Tony Stark had walked away from his role as Iron Man and destroyed his suits of armor.  Now, suddenly and without explanation, he's back as if the prior movie had not occurred.  Similarly, the events of Winter Soldier had serious ramifications for Captain America, and even more so, Nick Fury, which are laughably disregarded here.   Strangely, however, there is an oblique reference to events in Guardians of the Galaxy, which by logic should not be known to the characters in AoU.  It may be that in time Marvel, in a future entry, will retcon explanations in for these types of things, but that flies in the face of film logic...an audience shouldn't have to go do research or wait years for an oversight in the plot to be filled in.  Even more annoying, if you have an audience that is already committed to every entry in your ongoing process, and you STILL leave things out, or assume they'll just excuse it or wait for some later clarification, that's just insulting.

Bucky?  Bucky, where are you?

   

Wait, I thought I wasn't doing this anymore?

The movie seems to move from one loud, repetitive action sequence to the next, with a wearying effect.  It felt like the film was simply repeating the same types of stunts and effects, and just changing the locations.  A little past what I later realized was the halfway point, I started wishing the film would just hurry up and reach its conclusion.  And while the visual effects were as always top-notch, they were more like bombardment than entertainment.  I will say that the final-reel action sequence, in which the assembled Avengers take on the hordes of Ultron, is superbly rendered.  The phenomenal tracking shot of all the Avengers in action, used to such great effect during the battle of New York in the first movie, is re-applied here, with all nine of the team members in grand dynamic form.

      Most of the cast of the prior movies appear here.  Robert Downey Jr., Chris Hemsworth, Mark Ruffalo, Chris Evans, Scarlett Johansson and Jeremy Renner, the titular team in the first installment, are all back and share roughly equal screen time.  We also see more of Samuel L. Jackson, Cobie Smulders, Don Cheadle, Anthony Mackie, Hayley Atwell, Idris Elba, Josh Brolin, Stellan Skarsgard (in a completely pointless cameo), and of course the requisite appearance by Stan Lee.  Tom Hiddleston filmed a scene which was cut, as director Joss Whedon felt that was the point of overkill.   There's not a whole ton to say about the performances of the returning cast; most of them are exactly as we've seen in prior movies.  Jeremy Renner is the one exception to this, as he gets more to do this time around - his only prior appearances having been a cameo in the first Thor film, and spending more than half of the first Avengers under mind control, so we actually get to know a bit about Hawkeye.  It also bears mentioning that some very bizarre choices were made involving Johansson's character, her role in the film being relegated to flirting with/mooning over one of her male teammates, before being captured and tossed in a jail cell by the main baddie, and therefore requiring rescue.   Honestly, I was a little embarrassed for her.

     I came into this movie really wanting to see what had affected these characters since last we saw them.  How would Captain America deal with his world, from which he already felt alienated, being turned upside down by the ending of Winter Soldier?  What made Tony Stark decide to return to the role of Iron Man, and how did he rationalize it to himself?  How has Bruce Banner adjusted to life as a public hero, being accepted by friends instead of being hunted?  How do the other Avengers deal with the constant fakeouts and deceptions orchestrated by Nick Fury, including his "death"?   I didn't get answers to these questions, mind you.  On the other hand, we did get a new plotline with Thor becoming obsessed with a vision of some kind of weird orgy, which, as it references two-thirds of the Infinity Gems, I assume will be germane to his upcoming second sequel.  I say assume - based on this current movie, they may decide to forget all about that particular plotline.

Black Widow: Now with 50% more Tron.

Already looking for the next film.

     Most of what bright spots there are in the movie come from the new additions.  James Spader voices the nutcase robot Ultron, whose programming leads him to decide to annihilate the population of the Earth in order to save it.  Ultron is a fun addition to the roster of supervillain heavy-hitters; he's a smart, dangerous, interesting foe, and Spader's delivery is delightful.   We also get two classic Avengers team members - Pietro and Wanda Maximoff, better known to comic fans as Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch, though those more colorful names are never used in AoU, and are true to their comic roots of appearing initially as villains before changing sides.  They're played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Elizabeth Olsen (whom I last saw as a married couple in last year's Godzilla), and are fun new additions.  We also get an appearance by the fantastic Andy Serkis as the weapons dealer Ulysses Klaw; his role here is incidental, but is clearly a set-up for a future appearance in the upcoming Black Panther film.

   My favorite part of the film was actually the other "new" Avenger, The Vision.  Paul Bettany, who's been voicing Tony Stark's A.I. program JARVIS since the first Iron Man film, now gets to appear onscreen in a remarkable realization of the comics' resident synthetic man.   Though he doesn't appear until fairly late in the movie, Vision is a fine addition, as a character as well as a visual.  While the rest of the film is crammed to the gills, Vision is the one element of which I wish there'd been more.

   There are plenty of funny moments in the movie, very much in keeping with what we've come to expect from Joss Whedon.  The interplay between his characters has always been one of Whedon's strong points, and most of the dialogue is sharp and clever.  Unfortunately, there are too many points when the movie calls attention to the fact that it IS punchy dialogue, as the film practically flashes a little sign alerting us,  "Witty Banter here.  Please note, the Banter is Witty.  We Are Clever Boots."  I could have used more of some type of enterprise of great pitch and moment, and a little less of the cutesy stuff.

Evil Robot Backside - might be a first.

One Vision - fortunately NOT fried chicken.

When the film actually did end, (ironically, about two seconds too soon for my taste) and the audience had waited for the expected credits scene (which in this case is going to be understood only by comics fans, or those lucky enough to have a comics fan to explain the significance), I realized that with the exception of adding a few characters to the lineup, nothing had changed.  We leave the team with a few characters on sabbaticals of a sort, with new characters standing in, but as far as the broader universe is concerned, we're pretty much exactly where we came in.  That's in keeping with the directive of Stan Lee from back in the days when he was the boss at Marvel - change things up a bit, but always make sure you don't change too much, as it affects the marketability.  In a movie, though, if there's no growth or development, then ultimately - what's the point?  Beyond, of course the cynical answer: money. 

     And let's make no mistake - this movie is going to make boatloads of money.  It will likely be either the highest or second-highest grossing film of the year, depending on Star Wars Episode VII's box office returns, and will certainly dominate the summer revenues.  But as we've learned from the works of people like Michael Bay and Stephenie Meyer, enormous revenue streams are not at all a guarantee of artistic quality or integrity, just a phenomenal marketing strategy.   And that's why I'm so disappointed with this movie, because I don't want 'more of the same', ordered off the menu of numbered meals.  I don't want cheap junk, especially not when it concerns a source about which I care.  I'm fond of Captain America and the Vision in particular, and the fact that Spider-Man will be joining the cast of characters next year has me even more apprehensive.  They merit better, and I'd like to see them get it.

Believe it or not, this image understates how crowded the movie is.

    Instead, what we did get was this - a sequel for sequel's sake, to cash in.  There are going to be those who will clap and cheer and ooh and aah at all the appropriate moments, and who will walk away from the movie extolling awesomeness, thinking they've just been served a banquet.  These are exactly the kinds of viewers Disney and Marvel want, who are willing to take whatever comes off the conveyer belt and scarf it down without even knowing or caring what they're consuming.   And that's my frustration - I wanted more, I wanted better, not just empty calories.  But as long as there's an audience for bread and circuses, that's what will continue to be mass-produced.  And I'm afraid that's what's in store for us: a stifling of creativity, innovation or development in favor of more of the same.

   Except next time, they'll just Super-Size it.

FINAL RATING: 4 PAWS (OUT OF 10)

REVIEW: Daredevil: Season 1 (Netflix)

     So to start off what will hopefully be a lengthy list of reviews, let's take a look at Netflix's new 13-episode series, Daredevil.   This is the first in a cycle of five announced Marvel properties that Netflix will be producing over the next few years.  These shows not only tie in with each other, but also fit into the overall Marvel Cinematic Universe, albeit somewhat peripherally.  I should point out that this series is a completely new continuity, separate from the 2003 feature film, so if that movie has colored your opinion of the Man Without Fear, you should know there's no connection to it (other than, obviously, the source material.)

     Matt Murdock was blinded as a child by a chemical spill, and found his other senses exponentially enhanced.  Orphaned at an early age, he trained himself to be an expert fighter, before setting up shop as a lawyer in New York City's neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen.  There, by day, he defends needy clients in the courtroom, while at night, as Daredevil, he defends said neighborhood against organized crime and various other ne'er-do-wells, none more dangerous than Wilson Fisk. The series traces the origins of both characters, beginning only days into Matt's career as Daredevil, but is populated by flashbacks throughout, detailing the backstories of both Murdock and Fisk.

     So how was it?  Well, the production qualities are excellent.   The show is well cast, the scripts and direction are generally solid, the action sequences are amazing, and the overall atmosphere is evocative and fits the characters well.  In a departure from most of their other current offerings, these Netflix series will be concentrating more on street-level characters, focusing more on the human element and urban drama then on superheroics, alien invasions, etc.  Even though there are a few offhand references to the larger MCU, Daredevil stays grounded, concentrated, and visceral.

Charlie Cox as Matt Murdock

   To be fair, I have to say that overall, I did not particularly enjoy the series.  For one thing, I found it relentlessly grim, which I grant does fit the nature of the characters, but I don't think that necessarily translates to a television show.  That might just be the nature of streaming - perhaps spread out over thirteen weeks, it wouldn't seem quite as depressive, but as it is I found myself getting worn out by the constant onslaught of violence and darkness.

   That darkness is, in fact, literal.  Now, I suspect this was intentionally designed to be atmospheric, and even somewhat claustrophobic, perhaps to evoke the darkness in which the protagonist must live due to his accident, or perhaps it's just an attempt to overtly symbolize the misfortune and corruption of the neighborhood.  It's a bit much, though, and there are scenes where it borders on the ridiculous, and a viewer could be forgiven for wondering if there is a single functional light bulb anywhere in Hell's Kitchen.  Or, you know, the sun.

     Beyond the overpowering grimness of the series, I also felt like the show could, or rather should, have been condensed.  Again, this might be due to streaming the whole season over a relatively brief period of time, thereby concentrating the effect, but it felt like they could easily have done in ten episodes what took them thirteen.  Specifically, it seemed that there were several episodes which drew out certain plotlines more than were necessary; in particular, the Karen Page/Ben Urich "please write the article/No I won't/Yes I will/No I won't/please write etc..." story felt like I was watching a never-ending game of Pong.   The pace definitely picks up in the latter few episodes, which makes me think that they were spreading the material a little too thin in the middle third of the series.
    

Cox, Woll, Curtis-Hall and Henson

    The performances are solid all around.  London-born Charlie Cox plays the title character, and makes for a very solid anchor for the show.   He's got a lot to work with - rage, frustration, determination, guilt - and that's even before you factor in the 'he's blind but only kinda-sorta", which Cox manages to make fully convincing.  That's perhaps one of the best compliments you can give an actor in any kind of superhero performance, I think: the character is real.

   The supporting cast also acquits itself nicely.  Deborah Ann Woll plays Karen Page, who in the comics is a fairly unlikable character with a lot of extremely unpleasant baggage (which is only hinted at here), and makes her engaging and admirable.  Elden Henson, as Murdock's partner and best friend Foggy Nelson, gets to be the source of most of what little humor there is in the show, but manages to make his character more than just comic relief; you get the sense that this is a man using humor as a means of dealing with his world, rather than just existing to be a punchline, as so many sidekicks have been.  Vondie Curtis-Hall plays Ben Urich, who in the comics is the star reporter for the Daily Bugle (though that periodical is replaced by the "Bulletin" here), and manages to take what could have been a stock 'world-weary cynical reporter' role and make him empathetic, and even heroic.  Bob Gunton, perhaps best known as the crooked warden in The Shawshank Redemption, plays Leland Owlsley, a corrupt but exasperated financier who gets some good grousing dialogue and provides some much-needed levity among the criminal characters.  (In the comics, Owlsley becomes the long-standing villain known as "The Owl", but it appears the show is setting up a different direction for that development).  Also appearing are Rosario Dawson as nurse Claire Temple, who is probably being established here to link into the upcoming Luke Cage series, Scott Glenn as Murdock's mentor Stick, and Ayelet Zurer as Vanessa Marianna, whose only real function is to provide storyline for the series' main antagonist.
    

(Insert your own joke here about D'Onofrio going "Section 8" again.)

    Speaking of whom, Vincent D'Onofrio is Matt Murdock's villainous foil, Wilson Fisk, better known in the comics as The Kingpin - though the name "Kingpin" is never actually used in the series.   By day, Fisk is seemingly a public philanthropist seeking to restore the neighborhood, but by night, he is a crimelord capitalizing on slave labor, drugs and violence as part of his plan to own Hell's Kitchen.  D'Onofrio gives what is perhaps the most interesting performance in the show; atypical of most actors playing comic book villains, much of his acting is quiet, understated and almost shy.  This, of course, makes his darker side that much more terrifying when the audience gets to see it.  The writers have done an excellent job of making Fisk understandable if not condonable, and there are moments when you can actually sympathize with him - to a point.   The problem is that Fisk is portrayed as repressing monumental rage, which when it first gets out, is both memorable and horrifying.  As the series progresses, this rage starts to make Fisk seem less and less like a competent villain and more and more like a spoiled child.  Indeed, by the last few episodes, his temper tantrums have become predictable and tiresome, which again made me feel as though the show could have benefited by being a few episodes shorter.

   The plot itself is fairly straightforward without being simplistic, and all of the characters feel like fleshed-out, realistic people.  None of the primaries, and indeed, none of the secondaries, come across as two-dimensional, avoiding an issue that has plagued many comic book adaptations.  Even comparatively minor characters, such as a pair of Russian gangsters working for Fisk, are well-written and compelling.   The dialogue is generally on point and consistent.  There are a few nods to the comics along the way - the aforementioned infrequent references to the MCU, for example, or a sideways allusion to Elektra, Daredevil's opponent/love interest/fellow enthusiast of the color red, who I assume will be appearing down the road at some point.  The writers managed to keep these references from being too on-the-nose, though, which I fully appreciated.

   There's not too much to say about the costumes, since most of the characters are in street clothes, but there's an evolution to the outfits of both Murdock and Fisk, and by the final episode, Daredevil's in his famous red outfit, which does look quite good on screen.  One member of the Hand, the ninja clan with whom Daredevil has frequently crossed paths, appears in full regalia, and the color is striking...indeed, the one upside to the darkness of the series is that when they do use color, such as the Hand assassin, or the weird sickly yellow and purple which illuminate the windows of Murdock's shadowy apartment, the images on screen evoke thoughts of Frank Miller, which I have to think is deliberate.

   Also worth mentioning is the fight choreography, which is elegant in its brutality, and captivating to watch.  The actors are put through their paces, and Daredevil finds himself on the receiving end as much as the giving (setting up the need for a proper costume); these fights are violent, bloody, and exhausting, adding an extremely gritty component to the show.  Of particular note is a lengthy, one-take, one-shot fight in a hallway early in the series between Daredevil, several kidnappers, and a door.  You'll know it when you see it.

Daredevil's more recognizable look.

     Overall, the series is well-made, and while it suffers from some overkill in certain areas, is of a fairly high quality.   It's distinct from other entries in the increasingly-homogenous MCU, and clearly has its own identity.  Evidently, Marvel and Netflix are pleased with it, as it's already been renewed for a second season, to debut in 2016.  While I applaud the creators, cast and crew for a well executed production, though, I still didn't find it enjoyable to watch.  As much as the darkness, violence, and bleak world may be perfectly suited to the source material, it makes for something of a depressing viewing experience.  I respect the work that was done, and acknowledge its merits, even if I didn't particularly care for it.

FINAL RATING: 6 PAWS(OUT OF TEN)