A Reboot with Soul

So I got up nice and early and made bacon and eggs and coffee to take up to the missus in bed and still didn’t get to see the new Spiderman movie.

It’s not like she doesn’t go in for comic book movies – she loved Iron Man and enjoyed Avengers – but she just doesn’t get all giggly about the impending ‘Dark Knight Rises’ like I do.

At least superhero films these days manage to get decent actors and an actual live scriptwriter. I shudder at the thought of the pre-Nolan ‘Batman & Robin’ with Arnie Schwarzablahblah and she-of-the-weird-feet Uma Thurman.

It was fucking embarrassing when I insisted a group of us went to the cinema to see it. When we all left I was mortified and my girlfriend at the time patted me on the shoulder and said, “It wasn’t that bad” as though she was consoling me for the loss of my dog.

If they’d taken the piss out of me it’d have been okay, but they consoled me, for Christ’s sake. It was THAT bad.

But the good thing about these films is if you fuck up you always get another shot. Hell, the ‘reboot’ was invented by the comics. There are so many versions of Batman it’s hard to keep track so when I heard grumbles about it being “too soon” to reboot Spiderman I waved the notion away.

The Tobey Maguire Spiderman got a bit naff, so instead of wringing their hands about it they just had another go. I hear the acting's better in this one, anyway.

Comic companies are always reinventing these myths. They do them in creative ways like ‘Crisis on Infinite Earths” in the Eighties or “Zero Hour” in the Nineties, or they have cool asides like the fascist Superman in “Elseworlds” and the brilliant “Dark Knight Returns” by Frank Miller. If you think about it, the Batman turds that came after Tim Burton’s two were so different they were practically reboots; it’s just that there wasn’t the concept of ‘reboot’ in Hollywood yet so they called them sequels.

I hear so many new Batman fans sad because Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy is coming to an end. They think there’s not gonna be another Batman movie for ten years.

Personally, I think that if the Bane character in “Dark Knight Rises” does what he does in the “Knightfall” storyline in the comics (i.e: breaking Batman’s back and putting him in a wheelchair), there’s going to be another trilogy with the new Batman/Azrael character and how he goes psycho and Bruce Wayne has to come back and fight him and reclaim the mantle.

How cool would that be?

My wife knows better than to want a lie-in when Batman hits the big screen. Coz then she’d be waking up to an empty house while I’m munching popcorn and staining my trousers with excitement.

My Favourite Scary Movie Is 'An Inconvenient Truth'

A conclusion I’ve come to recently is that the only movies worth going to the cinema for are horror films.

It used to be ‘big screen extravaganzas’ that did it for me – Matrix, Armageddon, Avatar if you’d been previously lobotomised – but the last couple of effects-driven flicks I’ve graced with my spilled Coke and popcorn crumbs have been complete shite; the worst being the walked-out of Battleground: LA.

And if the point of the bioscope is to watch a movie rather than a social experience, what’s the point in seeing a comedy or drama?

But scary movies are different – especially on a Friday night in a packed theatre.

This idea started many moons ago when I went to see Halloween H20; not a great movie, but an entertaining audience.

Whenever Michael Myers appeared on-screen a section of the punters screamed. This caught on and soon the everyone was in on it. He’d jump out and there’d be shrieks, the camera would move to the virgin running away and when it moved back to Myers we’d all scream again… it was the best cinema experience I’d had without a blowjob in a long time.

And you’d make friends too. In the middle of a packed viewing of The Grudge, after a bone-rattling fright, the girl next to me turned and said, “God, I don’t know why I’m doing this!”

We ended up having a drink with her a bunch of her friends afterwards.

In my experience, the only movies these days with any audience participation are horror pics, and with Blu-Ray and gigantic tellies at home the big screen experience can be enjoyed with comfy couches and bog breaks – so the moviehouse needs something else to get my weeks wages for popcorn.

Maybe it’s different in England, because the first movie Lucy and I went to together (Drag Me To Hell) she asked, “Why is everyone laughing?”

It’s not because us South Africans laugh in the face of blood and gore, I told her, it’s because this is so close to Real Life in SA that we’re just relieved it’s not happening to us.

The only problem is that ninety-nine percent of horror movies are unoriginal, badly acted and cheesy enough to be stuck on a mousetrap – but maybe one day studios will cotton on and pump some money into decent scripts and directors.

But there’s more chance of being attacked by a chainsaw-wielding Saint Bernard wearing a Linda Blair mask than that happening so...

George Orwell is the Boogeyman!

Two stories my mom likes to tell: How I could fall asleep anywhere; and how when I was breastfeeding and she had company I would bite her nipples.

Luckily I’ve grown out of both breastfeeding and nipple-munching – which was the reaction to some kind of fearful anxiety about being stolen away from my mother, I suppose. When I'm afraid, I bite!

The falling asleep thing is still a trait I possess.

I’m notorious for dozing off in the cinema – usually when the movie’s a bit boring – and often I’m woken up by the person next to me when I start to snore.

Even though I fell asleep in Paranormal Activity, I still gave the sequel a look-in.

And it was good! Not like the first that, as my good friend Mark commented, wasn’t bad until they found the big chicken footprints all over the house – like Foghorn Leghorn broke in and made off with the stereo.

It’s so hard to find a decent scary movie these days – you’ve got to look for your jollies somewhere else. Personally, there’s not much that scares me more than a George Orwell novel.

Anyone who’s read 1984 will know just how terrifying the man’s mind was – makes the latest Stephen King read like a Hardy Boys.

The most recent that made me hug my teddy and check the front door was properly locked is Keep the Aspidistra Flying about a writer who falls into poverty when quits his ‘good’ job to pursue a career as a poet.

Go figure.

The protagonist “loathes dull, middle-class respectability and worship of money” and consistently bangs on about the ‘money-god’ that is the only deity people seem to follow.

Makes sense; money has much in common with the mythical Master of the Universe – it’s eternal, omnipotent, and everyone loves it.

I think governments know this and that’s why they put the president’s face on bank notes. They’re feisty, governments.

The face-on-the-money bit is the way a despot tells the world, “I’ve arrived!”

That’s why in America the big man can get away with just about anything. They know that money = god = our beloved leaders. Maybe not the current guy, it’s more of a general respect of the Cheese.

Of course, in SA we’ve got the Big 5 on our cash; which made me wonder whether that showed the importance of certain species.

Cheetah and lion – good.

Elephant and rhino– eh.

But then I thought, hold on, we’ve got Madiba’s face on the five Rand coin! Surely Nelson Mandela is more important to our identity as South Africans than the wildlife?

So my theory, like a punctured party balloon, made a lot of noise but eventually lay pathetic and flat on the floor.

Or maybe it’s not the usual nonsense. Maybe it’s because we’ve got game on our notes that the militant left wing always complain that whites care more about endangered animals than poor people.

Wealth is still divided unfairly in the favour of us pale natives, and coins are mostly used not to buy anything of value, but to tip the car guard or donate towards a bergie’s booze fund.

Could this be sending us a subliminal understanding? Is it the reason rich people don’t care about other people, only themselves, their money, and getting to the Kruger national park for the holidays?

Or is it because of some traditional, African tribal worship of animals?

Did you know that if you fold a fifty Rand note a certain way it looks like Eugene Terreblanche’s face?

It’s interesting to note that the Vatican City issues its own Euro with the Pope’s mug on it, not the hippy profile of Jesus.

Putting the faces of lower-level gods (presidents, animals) on the body of our actual god (money) scares me because it hints at the possibility that Church and State aren’t as separate as I hoped!

The rationale is surely that being associated with that-which-is-most-holy makes one holy by association (Welcome to the Department of Redundancy Department). Kind of like name-dropping in a way:

“I was hanging out with George Clooney the other night.”

“Big deal, my face is on the new eighteen Rand note.”

Although I like to believe differently, I know I’m not smart enough to dodge marketing manipulation and bureaucratic bullshit all the time. To think of how often my thought processes and ideas are steered by another’s agenda is terrifying.

It scares me so much I think I might bite the next nipple that passes by.

Nathan Casey and the Boring Blog Post: Part One

I’ve found myself in the probably-not-unique position of simultaneously loving movies and hating them at the same time.

This came to me one afternoon after watching the seventh Harry Potter instalment. You know, the one they’re making in two parts because, “the story’s just too big for one movie!”

Bollocks.

The reason, as everybody knows, is because now that the franchise is coming to a close they want to milk it for every last penny, cent and rupee possible.

On one hand this is not so bad. If you’re a fan of the angst-iuos boy wizard then an eighth part will make your wand stiffen. But on the other hand it’s kind of disappointing to know that the billions they made from all the other movies just wasn’t enough.

Despicable.

They’re doing the same for the Twilight movies. Which, again, is wonderful for washing powder manufacturers rubbing their hands together over the millions of panties that’ll need laundering, but excruciating for all the nice guys who agree to sit through the torment with their girlfriends.

Call me a grunting male stereotype, but the fact is I just don’t get the Twilight flicks. Women swoon over the vampire guy because he “so romantic and intense”, but the truth is most women would soon find him either boring or exhausting. And surely a guy who’s been alive for 500-odd years would think twice about marrying some chick he’s only known for a couple of months.

Nonsense.

A film that I haven’t seen on principle is the ‘Smurfs vs. GI Joe Movie’, aka: ‘Avatar’, aka: ‘Pocahontas in Space’. I’ve read the plot synopsis and a couple of reviews and it’s pretty much ‘Dances with Wolves’ in 3D.

What really made me howl with cynical laughter was the Director’s Cut re-release with an astonishing nine minutes of extra footage! It’s already over two and a half hours of explosions, what extra bits of revealing character development or exposition could we possibly get? The highest-grossing movie of all time, but that just wasn’t enough.

Greedy.

But I haven’t seen Avatar because something about it disturbed me almost as much as while watching the second Narnia movie (another me-being-a-good-boyfriend mistake), some guy in the back row started shouting something about how Jesus was coming back and we better all get our act together (true story).

I know that C.S Lewis was a card-carrying, door-knocking God-botherer, but as deluded as Christians are I thought it was on another level entirely to think that the production of Prince Caspian was more to prepare us for the Second Coming than to make a Dawntreader-load of cash.

Amusing.

I was uneasy about Avatar when people freaked out over me not having seen it. And I mean “freaked out” suicide bomber style. Grabbing-your-collar-to-shake-some-sense-into-you freaked out!

People almost writhed in agony when I said I wasn’t that interested, telling me it was the greatest cinematic achievement since The Godfather, Taxi Driver, or possibly even Steamboat Willy!

My theory is that for something to have such mass appeal by definition means it can’t be that deep or thought-provoking because, realistically, the majority of people don’t have such depth of thought.

Don’t take it personally. I’m not implying that by enjoying Avatar you’re a dribbling idiot, but you have to admit that the ‘message’ was nothing new.

But here I sit not having even seen the masterpiece. Who am I to talk?

As it happens someone gave us a copy of the film gratis, just so’s we’d watch it. So next time I sit here you might find me a changed man, longing for blue skin and a bar-brawler’s nose.

I hope I am pleasantly surprised, and not disappointed by just another special-effects laden, cash-generating turd.

Unlikely.