Comic Review: X-Men '92.

If there was one single crystalline thing I can think of in my youth that I can say got me into comic books, it was probably the X-Men cartoon series.

It was a truly genre defining element of the after school lineup when I was 6 or so. It was the typical high octane goodies kicking the crap out of baddies that you would find on any action cartoon of the time, but filled with an incredible depth of kid-friendly social commentary. All the strongest characters were women, and the main villain had a justifiable motivation of his own. There was serious complexity to be found at 4pm on weekday afternoons. We absorbed that stuff, us kids did.

We watched Beast be unfairly denied bail and go to prison, just because he was a mutant. We saw the legacy virus ravage the mutant population, and watched mutants be ostracized for it even though it could spread to anyone. The setting may have been fictional, but the problems were real, and there was a lot to learn from in these stories.

X-Men ran for 5 years, and a lot of people that grew up with it still consider it their favorite adaptation of a comic book property. The incarnations of certain characters here, like the outrageously accented Gambit and Rogue, or the nefariously evil arch-villain Apocalypse, are considered by many to be the finest versions of the characters in any medium.

It would seem impossible to return to the halcyon days of the X-Men Animated series, but indeed, through the miracle of science (and Secret Wars) it seems we've done it. This week, X-Men '92 #1 comes out, and brings up back to that world we left so long ago. Yellow spandex and all.

The first issue of X-Men '92 brings us back to the halls of Xavier's school for gifted youngsters (where else?) where class is in session under the guiding hands of professor McCoy. When class is interrupted by the return of a mysterious villain from the past, and his messages of a great evil to come, it kicks off what promises to be an entirely original plot, with some new characters introduced too.

It's good to see characters back in old costumes again, eyesore outfits from decades past and personalities echoed we'd long forgotten. The tongue is planted quite firmly in the cheek for the overall style, with writers Sims and Bowers clearly aware that the same audience who loved the cartoon are probably all roundabout 30, and play to that idea well. There's even some cameos from mutant characters I personally thought I'd never see again (Long live the X-Statix!). The artwork of Alti Firmansyah fits perfectly, being both reminiscent of the cartoon whilst still being sharp and stylish.

It will be very fun to see what direction X-Men '92 takes in the long run. The time frame of 1992 is less a hard fact and more a rough suggestion of the zeitgeist, as we see movie posters for films that hadn't been released as of 1992 for example. With virtually no ties to the rest of the Marvel universe as it currently exists, the story bears none of the burden that comes with upholding the collective canon. What other characters will turn up? What accent will they write Pyro with? Only time will tell.

Official Doomtown Fiction: 'The Prodigal'

My Fifth official Doomtown story, The Prodigal

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“Mr. Mayor,” Rafi lingered near the door. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a young gentleman who insists upon seeing you.”

The mayor’s eyes lazily rose from his book. “I specified not to be disturbed; was I not clear in my request?”

Rafi swallowed, regained his composure, and spoke again.

“He says he’s related to you, Nicodemus.”

Nicodemus raised an eyebrow, carefully closed the book, placing it out of sight in silence.

“Send him in,” Nicodemus whispered.

The young man who strode in was tall, lean with dark hair. He gave Nicodemus a look that mixed determination and outright wonder. Finding his manners, he took off his hat, letting it hang by his side.

“Nic? Mister … Mayor Nicodemus Whateley?? Is it you?” He asked.

Nicodemus nodded slowly, watching the boy’s every move like a cat.

“None other.” He said, slowly rising from his desk. “But you knew that. You, however, are a mystery here. So who might you be?”

The youth took an eager step forward. “Name’s Theodolphus, but Mama called me Theo … Theo Whateley-Boyer. From your second cousin, twice removed … also your fourth cousin, on the Providence side, I think. I come a long way looking for you, Nic. I come a helluva long way.”

“People who come looking for me oft regret the decision.” Nicodemus stepped around his desk to approach the boy, and Theo felt the Mayor’s stare grip his heart. Nicodemus Whateley’s black pupils contained nothing but darkness.

“Blood calls to blood, Nic. I hear it screaming out across this town.”

“Screams are a frequent sound in Gomorra. Who sent you? Speak.”

“The family, Nic … back east. We ain’t heard anything in so long. Then when the news came through that everything in Gomorra had fallen, we thought the worst.”

Theo drummed his fingers against the brim of his hat.

“I went to the manor first, but you weren’t there. You’re all that’s left, Nic. You’re the last one who had contact with the master …”

“Knicknevin is no more. I freed them of that tether,” Nic said. “I’m my own master now, Theo. And so are you.” He made a motion in the air to brush the young man away.

“That’s the thing, Nic. The family don’t know what else to do. They’re fighting amongst themselves … no real leader, no real direction. I heard about you though. I heard what you done here in Gomorra! You’re what we need!”

Nicodemus seemed to stare through Theo, appraising him.

“We need you, Nic. The family needs you,” Theo said, determination hardening his face.

Nicodemus reached out and took the boy by the shoulders gently, but with purpose. A smile crawled across his features.

“Theo, I am the family.”

Movie Review: The Brothers Grimsby.

It can't be easy to top a previous success in comedy, and Sacha Baron Cohen has been a successful man over the years. With characters of enduring worldwide popularity like Ali G and Borat, Cohen is one of Britain's top comedy personalities, but one that also refuses to continue using the same old characters forever. Starting up another new character with that kind of expectation is a laborious task. His previous offering, The Dictator, was hilarious, but no one seems to have seen it. With the films of Cohen, everything falls on the shoulders of the character he's playing, and Admiral General Aladeen just wasn't Borat.

With The Brothers Grimsby, Cohen makes a slight departure from the styles of his earlier films, by not making his own character the be all end all focus of the narrative, but a partner in both plot and screentime with the other titular character.

Nobby Butcher is a hard drinking working class football fan from Grimsby, the arse end of the worst part of North England. He lives a happy life with his nine kids in his council flat, but still holds out a candle for his brother Sebastian, who he has been separated from for 25 years.

When Nobby gets a tip off that Sebastian has been seen by a friend attending a swanky black tie benefit party, he runs off to try and reunite with his beloved brother at any cost.

Sebastian turns out to be Britain's top spy, on a mission to stop a high profile assassination attempt, and thanks to the interference of his long lost brother, misses the shot he was aiming for, gets himself on a kill order from MI6, and sets off a chain of events that could lead to the apocalypse (and gives Harry Potter AIDS, but that's a whole different subplot)

Sebastian's character is the ideal British secret agent, suave, sophisticated, skilled. Nobby is an England fan who doesn't want to drop his pint as they run from bullet spraying bad guys. It's not hard to see where the movie goes with this dynamic. You can't say it's sophisticated humor, by any means, but it is funny, if you have the stomach for it.

The Brothers Grimsby really does push the limits of taste in every respect, and if you thought it would be tough to top the gross out sweaty naked wrestling from Borat or the sexual escapades of Bruno, you'd be very much mistaken. Some sequences you'll witness here simply can't be unseen, and you will know what an elephant gang bang looks like from the inside, and you'll have to live with that image forever. Scene by scene gets wilder and weirder, and certainly breaks the barrier of good taste in more impressive and disgusting ways than any other major motion picture you'll likely see for a long time.

The film as a whole is very very English, and some humour might get missed by foreign audiences, (Nobby himself being a grotesque effigy of Liam Gallagher) but it's often used in some pretty clever ways, and there's some solid laughs to be found specially for UK audiences, especially if you're a football fan.

The Brothers Grimsby isn't as iconic as Ali G, and it isn't as clever as Borat, and it may simply be too gross for many viewers. What it does have is some good laughs, some very en pointe modern references, shockingly brilliant action sequences that will surprise with their sheer technical execution, and a surprisingly heartfelt message in between all the arse jokes and jabs at Man U. Having as much screen time dedicated to Sebastian as well as Nobby is a wise move on Cohen's part, and the film feels more like a whole, rather than just a character piece as a result. I can't imagine the characters here will resurface at any point like Cohen's more classic incarnations, but while they're here, they're good for a laugh.

Official Doomtown Fiction: 'Nine Tenths of the Law'

Fourth official Doomtown story, Nine Tenths of the Law

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The doors creaked open as Malcolm leaned on them, stepping up into the wide entrance hall.

“Watch your step Miss Morgan; it’s a little dusty. But it’s big … fit for anything really. I hear Morgan has a lot of business these days!”

Lula lifted the hem of her skirts from the dust as she stepped through the door, a look of distaste upon her face.

“Some of us at least. Why isn’t anyone doing business here already? This place is huge.”

Malcolm looked over his shoulder, and then up to the ceiling, a painful smile stretching across his face. “Oh, you know how it is. Just waiting for the right person!”

“If it’s all as you say it is, I’m interested. Show me around?”

“Absolutely,” He looked warily down one of the passages, listening for a moment before advancing.

Malcolm began counting off features as they walked, flinching every time the click of Lula’s heels echoed behind him. “You saw the welcoming hall; there’s room for a still, a storefront, and a few big offices, each as roomy as the last.”

“Must have been an impressive company that used to own all this.”

“Sweetrock? Oh, the biggest Gomorra until the Storm. All gone now … mostly.”

Reaching a staircase leading up to the the second floor, the old man put his hands on his hips and nodded. Above them hung a tattered banner bearing a shovel and pickaxe logo.

“So, what do you say?”

“There’s gotta be a catch, Malcolm. Rats? Mold?”

“This house is clean Miss Morgan; of that I can assure you.” The old man wrung his hands.

“Well, my new portrait would lighten up any old room. Knock off another ten percent and call it a deal.”

The old man almost backflipped with joy.

“I’ll get the deed! You stay right here. I mean it, really don’t … don’t go nowhere.” He rushed up the hallway.

Lula climbed the stairs and gave a tug at the old banner.

Mine.

“What was that Malcolm?” she called out, gritting her teeth to pull harder.

That’s mine.

“You agreed on the price. It’s awfully poor form to take it back now. Sign the papers so this place can be mine!”

The banner finally came loose, and Lula turned, her triumphant smile shifting to terror.

Looming at the foot of the staircase stood a grinning, spectral horror. Blazing with fury and screaming with rage, it rose towards her.

“THIS PLACE IS MIIIINE! YOU … CAN … HAVE … NOTHIIING!”

Malcolm heard footsteps so fast, he thought horses had started wearing heels. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Lula’s petticoat as she sprinted out the door into the light of day. Malcolm tossed the deeds into the dust.

“Again with this, Howard? Really?!”

Malcolm cursed into the yawning darkness of the building and stomped outside to straighten the “For Sale” sign once more.

Movie Review: Zoolander 2.

The world of fashion is a freaky and terrible place full of beauty and fear and painful stupidity, and no movie got that right in a more hilarious way than 2001's Zoolander. Hilarious characters, brilliant dialogue, and moments of surreal ridiculousness make it one of the most quoted comedies out there even 15 years after release.

Those seeking more of the unique comedy of Zoolander in the fancy new shoes of Zoolander No.2, will be sorely disappointed, however. In the same way we saw a few years back in Anchorman 2, Zoolander 2 takes the jokes that worked in the first film and tells them again, bigger and longer, and over and over. Sometimes it works, and there's a little of the old magic to be found, but unfortunately, the majority of Zoolander 2 is noticeably free of laughs.

Derek Zoolander has been in seclusion since the tragic death of his wife and the surrendering of his son to child services after the fated collapse of the Derek Zoolander school for kids who can't read good and who wanna learn to do other stuff good too. When he's contacted by globe-trotting Billy Zane and urged to return to the world of modelling, and thus regain his former life and the love of his son, Zoolander makes the long trip to Rome to meet with new fashion mogul Atoz and her mysterious crew of fashion villains.

Similarly returning from a life outside of the spotlight is free-love enthusiast Hansel, seeking a desperate escape from his quiet life when he learns he's got all 7 of his poly-amorous multi-racial lovers pregnant at once. Face to face once more, the two washed up male models must regain their skill and passion for the art, and along the way foil a Da Vinci Code style clandestine conspiracy to eliminate the world's pop-stars and save Zoolander's son from the machinations of the nefarious Mugatu.

Now as said, there is a little joy to be found in the returning characters. Zoolander and Hansel are great as they always were, and returning villain Mugatu is still probably the best character of the whole piece, but almost every new character that Zoolander 2 forces upon us is frankly awful. New antagonist Don Atari is particularly bad, with far too much time wasted on his endless and painfully unfunny faux-hipster dialogue. Other new characters like the awkwardly animated eleven-year-old-played-by-middle-aged-man Vip are just inexplicable as well as not funny, and the humor seems more forced on reminding the viewer how long it's been since the last movie than really giving us anything new to enjoy in this one. Some jokes that take great time and money to set up fall astoundingly flat, at one point in particular a car stunt that must have cost a fortune to shoot gives us about the weakest punchline in the entire film. The reprieves as far as new characters are concerned are found in the Fashion Police agent helping Derek and Hansel in their quest, who's not terrifically funny, but it does mean we get to see Penelope Cruz in lingerie swimwear, so be thankful for small mercies. Atoz herself is a great send-up of Donatella Versace, but one that runs a little out of steam with her only joke.

A big part of the first Zoolander's comedy came from careful celebrity cameos, and it made them feel organic, like they were a part of the story and there for a reason. Zoolander 2 takes that idea and utterly spoils it, by hamfisting in every celebrity they possibly can, just to have Derek or Hansel loudly exclaim their name and say "Wow, what're you doing here in (insert kooky situation)?" and then move on. A handful of the cameos are well placed, like an actually acting Keifer Sutherland who's too funny for the rest of the film, and some choice members of real fashion society, but most are just pathetic. No one who is a fan of the original Zoolander is going to be excited at the prospect of a Katy Perry or Kim Kardashian cameo.

Zoolander 2 really is a little taste of fashion week. There's some brilliance shining through, some diamonds amidst the rough, but the majority of what you'll see flouncing about on stage really is a lot of nonsense that no one would ever want to wear.

Movie Review: Deadpool.

Deadpool is a huge risk for the studio that made it, everyone knows this. A character popular with fans of the genre but almost entirely unknown to everyone else, and an R rated superhero film to boot. There hasn't been a successful one since Blade. How this film got made is probably a fantastic story in itself. Whoever talked such a thing into production will hopefully now be investigated, because Deadpool is fucking great fun for everyone involved.

For those who haven't read comics or walked into a Hot Topic in the last year, Deadpool is one of Marvel's current flagship characters. The alternative to the goodie-goodie stock heroics of Iron Man and The Avengers, Deadpool is a fast talking gun-for-hire with a split personality who constantly abuses the fourth wall. Translating this to other mediums is touchy, sometimes it works, sometimes not so much. Deadpool had a great video game release a few years ago that took the violence and quirkiness of the character and ran with it in a really fun way, but attempts to translate the character to novel form felt weird, and attempts to shoehorn him into the family friendly box for some of Marvel's cartoon shows left the character feeling justifiably neutered.

Making the Deadpool movie an R, and a HARD R at that, was the wisest thing anyone could have done with the property.

Deadpool pulls no punches. You'll see the most graphic violence on the screen so far this year, with the wise cracking mercenary cheerfully dropping F-bombs as he causes a multi car pileup and decapitates a motorbike rider with his own bike chain in the first few scenes. Then Deadpool turns to the camera, address the viewers, and invites us to enjoy his story. It's a story filled with blood, violence, naughty naughty words, elder abuse, masturbation, and a surprising amount of full frontal nudity for a film that, at some point, someone at Disney had to sign off on.

There isn't much depth to the plot, but it doesn't feel too light. It's an origin story, mixed with good old fashioned revenge. Deadpool takes us through his fated life as a street mercenary, spending his free time with the rowdy crowd of a local bar, where he meets Vanessa; the woman of his dreams, a take no shit prostitute who can talk Star Wars and generally best him at life decisions. The backstreet romance that Wade and Vanessa share is more convincing than most forced partnerships you'd see in a rom-com. When Wade is diagnosed with terminal cancer, he finally finds he has a reason to live, and so signs up for the terrible mutant experimentation of cockney-as-fuck supervillain Ajax.

Ajax probably isn't a villain that gets comic fans excited, he was a second rate character in the source material, but the Deadpool character does have a startling lack of true villains of his own in any medium, and what is done with Ajax on screen is really good. He's a no-nonsense, professional bad guy. More like something out of Lock, Stock than The Avengers. The urge to have him act like a supervillain is subverted in favor of him being a genuinely nasty piece of work.  When Ajax's horrific forced evolution experiments turn Wade into the hideous Deadpool and leaves him for dead in a blazing inferno, Deadpool pulls himself from the wreckage embued with his new mutant powers and a thirst for revenge.

There's pretty much just a first act and a third, and I could have done with a bit more meat in between, but keeping the pace moving with the snappiness it does, took careful work, and maybe shaking that up wouldn't work. There are an assortment of side characters, like Wade's friend and confidant Weasel, who is somehow both comedy sidekick and straight man foil at the same time, and the brilliant Blind Al, a character much loved by fans who is just fantastic here. All of these characters only see brief screentime, which is a shame in my opinion, some of these little characters needed plot resolution too.

Deadpool's only genuine allies along his path to revenge are Colossus and Negasonic Teenage Warhead. The inclusion of these two X-Men property characters is actually incredibly well done in a few ways. It opens the door to most of the best fourth wall breaking jokes in the movie, as well as somehow giving the hint of an expanded universe in a more enjoyable way than ever before.

The most noticeable thing about Deadpool is that it doesn't really feel like a superhero movie. It is an action-comedy-romance-horror. A romactiohoredy, if you will. It has scenes of a relationship more honest and fun to watch than a lot of other films out there, and scenes of claustrophobic body horror that'll make you squirm, The action sequences are visually stunning, with incredible fight choreography. The writing is noticeably sharp. Deadpool is in almost every scene in the entire movie, and talking through each one as he goes, and he doesn't get irritating, he's lovable. His quips are closer to the observations you'd hear watching MST3K than the sort of goofy stuff Spider-Man would come out with. The humor is current and en pointe, with just enough line toed between jokes for everyone and jokes for comic fans that no one is left bewildered by the comedy.

I believe Deadpool will be loved by fans. Deadpool is a ton of fun in almost every way, it's one of the most satisfying adaptations of a comic book in years, and most impressive because it's managed to make itself more adult than the source material. Perhaps most importantly, the success of Deadpool could mean the reevaluation of the R-Rated comic book movie. It could pave the way for properties like Preacher, Transmetropolitan, and Rat Queens to be seriously considered for the big screen, and expanding the world of what is acceptable in film is beating censorship, and that's fantastic.

Official Doomtown Fiction: 'Behind the Stick'

My third official Doomtown story, Behind the Stick

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The dimly lit tables of Cooke’s Nightcap were sparsely populated as Forster Cooke stood behind the bar, surveying everything. Across the room, Asakichi wiped down the tables, and he gave her a big smile when she looked his direction. He was still smiling when he turned to the door and saw her standing there. He rubbed his eyes at first, momentarily failing to recognize Samantha. Her hair was wild from riding, a pistol holstered at her hip. She strode right to the bar and sat down before him.

“Samantha?” Forster said. Her hair and eyes reminded him painfully of her mother.

“It’s Sammy now, you know that.” The strength in her voice filled him with pride.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to knock some sense into yer thick skull. You followed me here, didn’t you?”

“It’s not like that.” Forster reached out gently toward her.

She pulled away quickly. “Like hell it ain’t. If you think begging’s gonna get me to come back, you’ve got another thing comin’. I’m with Sloane now.”

“Samantha, you’ll always be my daughter. Your sister and I –”

“She ain’t my sister,” Sammy snapped, her eyes darting across the room to Asakichi with a glare sharper than a knife.

Forster looked between his two girls in despair.

Sammy snapped her fingers sharply, speaking up so half the saloon could hear. “Gomorra is Sloane’s town. You stay here, I can’t protect you, and I know you think you can, but you can’t protect me either.”

A man sat down beside Sammy, so quiet he could’ve been a ghost. “Good to see you again Sammy,” said T’ou Chi Chow, tenting his hands on the bar.

Sammy looked between Chow and her father, and then swore under her breath. “I shoulda known you’d end up out here, Chow. Gomorra’s only a slight step up from the Armpit. But you oughta know better than to drag my father along with you!”

Chow smiled, his calm demeanor unphased. “All wise men have wiser allies. Your father is a man of many talents.”

Forster leaned over the bar, his brow furrowed. “Mr. Chow is doing important work here. It was my decision to come with.”

Sammy turned back to her father. “Important work that’ll get you killed. Take my warning … you won’t get another one.”

Forster looked down at her and sighed. “I may be an old barkeep. But no one, not Sloane or the Mayor himself, can stop me from keepin’ my girls safe. Ain’t nothing gonna convince me otherwise.”

Sammy looked back at her father’s weathered features and nodded. She leaned in, just a few inches, but the intimacy meant the world to Forster. “I know, Daddy,” she whispered as she stood. “Just be careful.” Forster watched her leave, right up until the door stopped swinging.

The Bandit King smiled, tilting from side to side. “Daughters … bandit hordes … I don’t know which one is harder to manage.”

Forster nodded as he poured another whiskey for his friend.