The Factual Opinion

The Mad Archives, Vol. 1

Mostly Written by Harvey Kurtzmann
Mostly Drawn by Wally Wood, Will Elder and Jack Davis
Originally Published by EC in 1952-53
Collection Published by DC in 2002

This first (as of yet, only) archival volume of the 1950's comic book Mad doesn't fully explain or explore the impact Mad has had on popular culture.  The book itself contains a few biographical details on some of it's contributors and begins with a leisurely essay that glosses over some of the history of the seminal, and still going, publication that bears the name.  Besides that, it's a full-color reprint of the first six issues, all of which are made up of 8-10 page satirical pieces, with a random piece of prose or fake "letters to the editor" dashed throughout.  No, it's not as interesting as it might be, and no, it's unlikely to make anyone without a severe taste for nostalgia laugh out loud.  In all honesty, if one is interested in the history of American comedy, early Mad might be better served by exploring the work in a more scholarly publication--like Bill Blackbeards work on George Herriman's Krazy Kat.  But if you're just interested to see the genesis of the type of humor that's become such a major force in American comedy, touching everything from The Simpsons, The Groundlings, Vice,  Second City and The Onion, than this book is worth the trip.  It's also to be commended when compared against the art of the period: it's quite clear that in 1952, the best artists in the industry weren't drawing Superman.  There isn't a single page in this volume that isn't graced with brilliant cartooning, and although the humor (and the items the humor is satirizing) are rather dated, these were some of the best comics that were coming out in an America trying to move away from the worst war they'd yet to know.  Kurtzmann's willingness to piss all over the cheesy heroics and knee-jerk patriotism that haunted the comics and pulp novels of the day was, and still remains, an act of explosive honesty and courage--even as it results in works of comedy that no longer contain the same bite (one assumes) they once had.

As is the case with the majority of high-quality reprints of old cartooning, the Mad Archives project has been dormant since 2002, and there's been no response to our queries about the remaining 3 volumes mentioned in this books press release.  One hopes that the books will eventually see the release they, and their contributors, deserve, but at this point the interested reader will have to settle for reading the issues on their computer, from one of the various CD- or DVD-ROM collections.

-Tucker Stone, 2007

Punisher War Journal #4

Written by Matt Fraction
Art by Mike Deodato

Matt Fraction, who spent most of 2006 reminding everybody how easy it can look to make really great comics (Casanova,) has been biding his time for the first three issues of this War Journal relaunch.  Although old school Punisher fans (and yes, apparently some exist) are going to be disappointed to find out (if they don't already know) that no, the new War Journal doesn't have gun-porn pages devoted to the big P's favorite weapons.  They may be disappointed to also find out that the pages of this issue barely even acknowledge the Punisher's existence (even though the issue is devoted to the wake of someone he himself killed back in issue one), and he doesn't show up in full costume until the last page of the book.

As per the usual, anything that old school comics fans are disappointed about translates into "a comic you might actually enjoy reading, as opposed to Civil War #7, which unsurprisingly, you won't."  (The long delayed Civil War finale was released yesterday, once again proving that regardless of what comics fans and comics companies claim, nothing ever changes the status quo in comic books, and nothing that's supposed to be a big deal ever really is.)

See, when a supposedly "big day" in comics is trumpeted by comic companies, what that means to the buyer is that something "big" is going to happen, and in this case, "big" means that any regular comics junkie is going to have to start buying more comics, or else they won't be able to "fully" enjoy the comics that they were going to read anyway.  Civil War, the "big" item in reference has a few spin-off issues to come out in the next week.  That's no big deal, ten, fifteen dollars.  Then you add in the Captain America series, which leads directly out of the final "shocking" pages of Civil War.  (To be fair, i don't believe anyone called the final pages "shocking."  If they did, they must have been referring to the fisting sensation they felt in their rectum while they were reading the issue, but that had more to do with what their neglected spouse was doing than anything that occurred in the issue.  Captain America walking away from a fight because he didn't feel like punching a NY fireman isn't really shocking.  It's just lame-ass storytelling.)

Either way, everybody wants to read about what Captain America is going to be doing in prison, so there's another three bucks.  Meanwhile, the New Avengers is going to be full of all the "renegade" super-heroes, and it's led by the female-groin kicking, likes to use the backdoor on his wife (read Alias #1, i ain't fooling) Luke Cage--so it's not time to drop that book yet.  Two weeks later, you've got the Mighty Avengers, otherwise known as the "let's watch fascist Iron Man hang around a bunch of losers called Ms. Marvel and Yellowjacket and pretend that we're not chocking on our own bile," but still, it's an Avengers book, and it might explain why half the Marvel universe decided to act totally out of character for the last year, so we've now past the twenty dollar mark.

On top of that, you might even fall into the Spider-man trap--after all, his post-Civil War marketing trick is a return to the black costume, which, we're sure, has nothing to do with the fact that the upcoming movie includes the black costume.  One hopes you're not that gullible.  (The total now surpasses the 35 mark.)

Then there's the three or four new series starting up, like Namor and Omega Flight.  They seem to be connected, somehow, and since you're already buying Spider-man and a comic featuring a character named Yellowjacket, who are you to ignore the adventures of the Sea King or super-heroes in Canada?  (Seriously, who are you?)

Which, because this can only go so long before I get sick of it, brings us back to the Punisher, and his War Journal.  (If only Fraction had the balls to call the damn book The Punisher's Secret Diary.)  Now, ole P has had his Civil War moments (all of which have been somewhat rote and pointless, much like Civil War as a whole), so with issue 4, Fraction gets his chance to start the series proper.  And what a start he gives it--a bar full of villains surrounding the too-tall corpse of one of the Punisher's victims, drinking themselves even stupider than they were cold sober (considering their costumes, that's pretty goddamn stupid.)  As the humor and overall patheticness of an Marvel Irish Wake reaches it's only logical conclusion, the book leaves the realm of "funny idea" and becomes "great fucking idea."  Thanks to one of those comic-book-magic poisons, all these losers have been downing fatally-laced brew all night--and to top it off, the Punisher uses kerosene to blow the fuckers up on his way out the door.  (Thanks to a Boogie Nights mustache, he's been chortling in the role of the bartender since the first loser walked in.)

No, this isn't going to re-invent the wheel, but if anybodies counting on DC or Marvel to start seriously bucking formula at this point, they should take their fist off their dick and see if they can swallow it--more success in fantasy will likely be found there.  But Fraction, just as he did with every page of Casanova, continues to show off that being a cocky, funny and smart-as-hell writer can make genre specific books work just as well as anything in the last issue of MOME.

-Tucker Stone, 2007 

The Plastic Man Archives: Volume 1

Writing and Art by Jack Cole
1999
Published by DC Comics
224 pgs.

Beginning in 1941, a twisted cartoonist named Jack Cole created Plastic Man for the Quality Comics company.  Appearing in the pages of Police Comics, Plastic Man was, and remains, one of the most singular pieces of comic genius that's ever been published.  Funny, violent and aggressively creative, every page of this pristine archive edition contains some form of imagination that shocks and humiliates most of the super-hero comics created today.  This was, after all, 1941--yet Cole's imaginative storytelling and whip-smart pencils continue to astonish the eye and mind.

On second thought, maybe you shouldn't read this.  After all, considering that the current version of Plastic Man roams around the DC universe of comic books for no real discernible purpose, and that his most well-known rip-off, Mr. Fantastic, is probably the most heavy-handed and melodramatic character in comic book history, maybe it's best not to find out that, excepting Civil Rights and the Moon Walk, we'd be better off if nothing had changed since 1941.  Well, maybe just the comics, with an allowance for Watchman and Robert Crumb.  In either case, it's a damn shame that such an exciting piece of work is, currently, only available in a fifty dollar hardcover, with all the art reduced to fit the current comic size.  Still, the Plastic Man Archives are a heroic piece of publication, and shouldn't be ignored by anyone who still thinks that comics about spandex clad manboys don't have anything to offer them.

They do--they have spandex clad manboys.

-Tucker Stone, 2007

Batman #663

Written by Grant Morrison
Art by John Van Fleet
Cover by Andy Kubert

Morrison's run on Batman hasn't been as earth-shattering as one might have hoped--that shouldn't be too surprising.  After all, regardless of how good Morrison can be, working on the regular mainstream Batman comic is difficult for even the best of comics creators.  No matter how popular the author, Batman (the comic) is full-on corporate property, and anything that goes down in the book has to make it through an editorial process that limits the freedom of an author.  Morrison is permitted to experiment all he wants on characters like Klarion and The Bulleteer--no one knows enough about those characters to fight him, and there aren't any movies in the mix to screw up.  Batman is a different story.

Still, Morrison's first issues of Batman were frighteningly good stuff--wars set against museum pieces of Lichtenstein style art pieces, insanely ridiculous villains (played as straight as possible) and a return to what Morrison described as the "hairy chested love god" Batman.  Then the story took an odd turn, nose-dived into a predictable finale (and Morrison is rarely, if ever, predictable) and the next issue showed up with Morrison and Kubert off the book. (On a hiatus while they got the next arc together.)  With this issue, Morrison is back--Kubert handled the cover and returns in full force next month.

It's unknown whether this was an issue Morrison had planned all along--while it serves as a definite introduction to the upcoming Joker storyline, it seems a bit thrown together, like a late-night prequel while Kubert finishes penciling the upcoming chapters.  Either way, it's one of those rare prose style-comics, where the art is in stark contrast to the words--line after line of unencumbered, unboxed language, presented in storybook style.  In other words, Batman #663 is closer, and resembles, The Cat In The Hat a hell of a lot more than it resembles, say, Batman #664.  As can be expected, it's initially a bit off-putting.  Van Fleet's computerized art is one that wouldn't look out of place in a video-game's cut scenes, and the books overall ugliness is one that doesn't really reach the level of kitsch that it seems, at times, to be going for.  Morrison's prose is about as uneven as one might guess--as brilliant a comics writer as he is, and as imaginative as he is, there's a reason Morrison doesn't write novels.  That's not meant to be a slam--it's just a simple fact.

Still, the latest issue of Batman (when compared against every one of the last 300 issues) is without comparison as the most experimental issue of Batman ever.  The fact that it's neither that great nor that experimental--well, let's just chalk that up as an "oh well."  In the greater scheme of things, it is nice to pick up a super-hero comic that, by and large, doesn't read or look like any of the rest on the stands.

We just hope that next time the said comic will be compelling or attractive as well.

-Tucker Stone, 2007

Our Response To Oscar Nominations

While The Factual Opinion is rarely, if ever, interested in any "news" that does not correlate to an increase in our finances and a decrease in our fiscal responsibility, it has come to our attention that quite a few of our readers, and our readers extended network, are operating under the assumption that the Oscars mean, well, anything in relation to the actual quality of last years films.  That being said, here are some inarguably accurate responses to the latest Oscar Nominations.  These are only the acting nominations.  More responses may be provided, depending on reader response.

Best Actor In a Leading Role:

Leonardo DiCaprio in Blood Diamond--While it's certainly possible that Leo's performance in this wasn't as god-awful as any of his other non-Departed performances in his depressingly long and irritating career, that doesn't mean you give him an award.  That's like being proud of a child molester for not slitting the throat of his latest rape victim.

Ryan Gosling in Half Nelson--Ryan Gosling gave an intensely intelligent and eminently compelling performance in one of the best films of the year, a film that was not only complex and complicated, but completely devoid of sentimentality and cynicism.  He has no chance at winning an Oscar from the people who picked Crash as last years best film.

Peter O'Toole in Venus--Not only did no one watch this movie, no one should have, and yet O'Toole has an excellent chance merely because he refuses to die until he's done voice-overs in a Shrek sequel.

Will Smith in The Pursuit of Happyness--Liking Will Smith, wanting him to win, is like joining hands with those militant Evangelicals that preach the murder of abortion doctors.  It's a filthy, disgusting thing to do, and it's proof that, once again, valuing everybody's opinion as having possible validity is about as useful as getting an associates degree.

Forest Whitaker in The Last King Of Scotland--While Half Nelson is the best movie of these five, Whitaker's performance outshines even Gosling.  He is able to unflinchingly recreate Idi Amin, making the man so alive that the film would have been believable if it was shot in the janitor's closet of an elementary school.   He should win.

Best Supporting Actor

Alan Arkin in Little Miss Sunshine--Take Little Miss Sunshine and shove it right up your ass.

Jackie Earle Haley in Little Children--We'd like to believe that the Academy has enough courage to give the award to a man who so courageously played a child molester.  Then we remember Sean Penn and I Am Sam.  Courage and Oscar haven't held hands in a long time.

Djimon Hounsou in Blood Diamond--Single-handedly setting back the entire movement to convince young acting students that Audiences Hate Characters Who Scream All The Time.

Eddie Murphy in Dreamgirls--Daddy Day Care, Metro, Vampire In Brooklyn, Pluto Nash, Norbit, Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek 3, Holy Man, Dr. Doolittle and Haunted Mansion.  It's been twenty years since Axel Foley--Fuck Eddie Murphy.

Mark Wahlberg in The Departed--One hopes that this joke of a nomination will result in a win, just because it will mean an increase in usages of the f-word in all movies.

Best Actress in a Leading Role

Penelope Cruz in Volver--If you saw this, you're probably pulling for her.  You should try to remember how full the theater was when you were there.  Oh.  Wait-a-second.

Judi Dench in Notes on a Scandal--At what point does Judi Dench stop getting a free pass due to her storied career?  Before or after her lesbian stalker movie?  I guess after.

Helen Mirren in The Queen--Mirren is well-loved here, and she will win, and she should.  Too bad she had to hang out with Stephen Frears to do it, but life goes on.

Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada--Diane Keaton and Meryl Streep will hopefully team up before too long--they could have a long conversation about taking a steaming dump on their careers.  If they included Goldie Hawn, maybe they could redo Witches of Eastwick.

Kate Winslet in Little Children--Nothing like padding a category, huh?  Are we ready to come up with decent roles for women yet?  Next year they'll find some loophole and nominate Juliana Marguiles for the first season of ER.

Best Actress in a Supporting Role

Adriana Barraza in Babel--I liked her better on that X-Files episode where she wouldn't shut up about the goat-sucker.  Was she in Babel too?

Cate Blanchett in Notes on a Scandal--I can't keep up-is this the lesbian one or the one where she pees on a plate?  Oh wait, that's the Brad Pitt one.

Abigail Breslin in Little Miss Sunshine--Why don't they just give it to Dakota Fanning and call it the People's Choice Awards?

Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls--Interesting fact: If you tip Jennifer over, her brain runs right out of her nose, like a strawberry milkshake.  If the award was for that, that would be okay, we guess.

Rinko Kikuchi in Babel--Americans should know that there's actual pornography with Japanese schoogirls everyday.  They don't have to watch Cate Blanchett pee onscreen just to see a nubile Asian girl swish her way around.  Try Ninja High School--it's pretty hot.

The Bank Dick

1940
Directed by Edward Cline
Written by and Starring W.C. Fields
Also Featuring Shemp Howard

Although the Criterion Collection's Bank Dick is no longer in print, the film is still in circulation in varying degrees of quality.  The film is one of Fields later features, and although the style of comedy may be one that is no longer prominent, this excellent film hasn't aged a day.  Loosely plotted around various opportunities for the type of drunken awfulness that Fields did better than anyone else, The Bank Dick is a chaotic burst of humor--it begins with the classic swallow of a lit cigarette and the abuse of children and doesn't let up until an incredibly dangerous car chase consisting of high-speed 180's.  It's the type of auto-acrobatics that wouldn't look out of place in the next Matt Damon spy picture--the cars seem to be, quite literally, spinning on tires made solely of oil.  Unlike the multiple versions of the "town idiot saves the day" pictures wherein Steve Martin or Chevy Chase bumble their way around well-meaning do-gooders and disturbed villains, no one in The Bank Dick is any better an individual than the mildly racist, totally alcoholic, and wholeheartedly incompetent W.C. Fields.  If his compatriots don't absolutely despise him, they are despised by him, and if they don't suffer a massive amount of minor flaws, that's only due to their absolute failure to behave as human beings.

These types of films, like The Three Stooges, aren't out to win any hearts or minds--they were made for laughs and joy, and if you aren't the type of person that likes to watch a psychotically abusive 8 year old get threatened with a 50 pound flowerpot, than they aren't going to be your cup of tea.  But if you're the type that fantasizes about someone slamming Dakota Fanning into a door frame, than you've got a new DVD to hunt down on Ebay.

-Tucker Stone, 2007

MI-5 Season 4

2007 DVD Release

For whatever reason, A & E gave little attention to the fourth season of the British import Spooks, choosing to show the majority of the episodes in a Friday night marathon; so kudos go to the Kudos company for seeing fit to release an expensive DVD set of all 10 episodes, once again unedited sans for the American only title MI-5.  (The American market required a change in the title of this British spy drama, due to the racial connotations of the word "Spooks."  No, that's not a joke.)

The first three seasons of MI-5 made for excellent television, even when the who's-dating-who aspect of the show came to far into the forefront, MI-5's willingness to adhere to spy-thriller logic (anybody can die, and eventually, everyone will be replaced) was one that got it a ton of viewers in Britain while at the same time receiving a massive amount of complaints.  Much like America's Law & Order, a show that has stuck to it's formula as it's base instead of building a foundation of main characters, the fourth season of MI-5 opens with only one of the first seasons actors still left: the grizzled Harry Pearce, serving still as the boss of this ragtag organization.  Every other major role is played by characters who were only introduced a scant season ago, and some of them aren't long for the role already.  Still, killing people can only be interesting as far as one is able to care about them, so getting down to the meat of the show is the main requirement.

Excepting the first two hours of the season, a mildly upsetting two-parter regarding bombs in London, each episode of the fourth season stands as a herculean exercise in television-as-film, with each hour (and yes, like HBO, the Brits give us a full hour) focuses on labyrinthine plots, told in such drastic scope that MI-5 seems, like The Wire, to be the type of entertainment that requires the viewer to pay such strict attention that it really becomes entertainment in name only.  Whether it's the heartbreaking sense of loss that haunts the character of Adam Carter, a man too good at his job to get to truly enjoy his wife and young son, or the quiet Zef, a man who's most comfortable socializing while undercover amongst enemies, the show is exceptional at placing as much importance on the humanity of it's cast as it is about the nuts and bolts of a spy thriller.

While the final episode seems to be built on too small a foundation (Princess Diana?  Please.), it still steals some brilliance with it's blood-soaked final minute, once again placing it's heroes in a situation that can have no possible happy outcome.  Hopefully, Kudos will make enough money to release the (already completed) fifth season--otherwise, Bittorrent may need to get a workout.

-Tucker Stone, 2007

The New Avengers #27

Written by Brian Michael Bendis
Art by Leinil Yu
Published by Marvel

Image is a pencil only version of the cover.

There's plenty of comparisons to be made between this issue of New Avengers and the recent video game Marvel: Ultimate Alliance.  After all, the comic is about a relatively minor hero (Ronin) being captured by one bad guy (Elektra) and a massive number of disposable henchmen--Henchmen that all dress the same, and also happen to be ninjas.  Nearing the close of the issue, a group of heroes that could have been constructed by any excited 14-year-old show up to rescue her.  They have to fight through the swarm, rescue the minor hero, and are then teleported out by one of their number.

If you were doing this in the game, you have to press the "pause" button to teleport. 

Are we being too harsh?  Are we reaching too much for the comparison?  After all, isn't that what this New Avengers series has always been about--hell, isn't that what all the big team books have always been about?  A writer is given the job of making a group of popular characters, all of whom have their own respective series, also on sale, even more popular?  It stands to fiscal reason that if somebody really likes this issue of New Avengers, they're more willing to purchase the latest copy of Wolverine, Iron Fist, any of Spider-man's fourteen series, and maybe, finally, under the cover of night and brown paper bags, a copy of something featuring Dr. Strange?  Is that so wrong?

It wasn't wrong enough this week--maybe due to the art, or the sight of Peter Parker in the black costume--but if this trend so blatantly continues...nevermind.  It's an empty threat.  Team books have always been like this, and they always will be.  At least this one has a big frightening black man (Luke Cage) kicking a woman in the groin.

Don't worry.  She's a bad guy.

-Tucker Stone, 2007