“In fact, most of this ‘analysis’ practices the dreadful art of reviewing.’”


by RJ White

Todd Alcott is a screenwriter, playwright and monologist who has been writing incisive film analyses online for a few years (Examples: his exhaustive film-by-film look at the work of the Coen Brothers or Venture Bros. episode breakdowns, to name but two of many). He approaches everything from the basic question, “What does the protagonist want?” which also is the subtitle of his recently-launched site. In the process, he’ll go through a film, finding things you had no idea were there, but once they’re pointed out, you can’t not see them.

Okay, there’s your background. Now- Heidi MacDonald, proprietor of comics web-log The Beat, asked Mr. Alcott if he’d apply his methods to comic book-based films from time to time. First one? Batman: The Movie, the 1966 film starring Adam West, based upon the television series. The piece is typical Alcott, which is a good thing, looking at the film from a story standpoint, pointing out what works and what doesn’t, what makes sense and what is ridiculous. But also, it’s a bit of a joke to devote an ostensibly serious analysis such a goofy, fun film like this, which is sort of the point. Some folks got it, but this being the comics internet and all, many nerds bristle at even the vaguest hint of not taking a film starring Caesar Romero as a clown villain with white grease paint over a mustache and a character named “Commodore Schmidlapp” with the utmost respect.

Do you seriously not understand how camp humor works? Or have never in your life seen The Batman TV show from the 60s? You are a complete idiot and I don’t understand why The Beat asked you to do a guest post when you employ the blandest analytical style possible and completely miss the point of what you’re looking at.

Although I wouldn’t level the charge of “idiot” as vlucca does,I would say “misguided” or “sloppy.” I’d have to agree with vlucca’s assessment that the writer is missing the point of the film, and by extension, the series…You cannot use a one size fits all critical method in which you treat “Batman: The Movie” as the same sort of text as “The Dark Knight.” In fact, most of this “analysis” practices the dreadful art of “reviewing.”

Anybody with half of the brain power of the 60s Bruce Wayne could have cobbled together such random obvious remarks about this movie, which doesn’t go into any detail at all about the 40s Batman movie serials which had clearly informed the camp humor on display here.

If you really want to analyze this film, try looking at it in the context of Hollywood in the mid-1960s, where the influence of French New Wave film making was changing the way movies were made. Look at it as a transgressive narrative, much the way Bonnie and Clyde was a transgressive narrative, in that it subverted public perception as to what a superhero movie “should” be. Argue the influence of Andy Warhol and the Pop Art movement on the look and style of the film, or look at it as pure political satire, in a day and age when authority was being held up to question and ridicule. All of these provide fertile ground for analysis. Simply recapping the film’s plot and making snide comments contributes nothing, and makes you appear as shallow and uneducated.

I have to think that this is the first time that the 1966 Batman has been associated with the French New Wave. If not, I have a hat nearby and some salt with which to eat it.

…a piece of film criticism needs to stand on it’s own– you need not read the backlog of writings by Anthony Lane, Pauline Kael or Jonathon Rosenbaum in order to “get” the critic. Film criticism is not like reading the collected works of a fiction writer– it needs to communicate directly to its audience a well-crafted set of rationalized positions regarding that film. Regardless of whether Mr. Alcott’s previous writings are “first-rate,” this, alas, is not. Additionally, this piece of writing qualifies as snarky, rather than campy. Camp is far more enjoyable.

And lord knows that, if there is one thing there is absolutely no room for in that part of the internet inhabited by comics nerds, it is “snark.” Also- this is a personal thing- can we please stop it with that word? Just for old Uncle RJ? I get the palpitations.

I’d fail my Junior and Senior level film students if they tried to hand this type of crap in as “analysis.”

Perhaps Mr. Alcott would be better served by calling his material “commentary.” The bar is set much lower in that regard.

Having read this “analysis,” it is easier to understand why so few interesting films ever get made any more. Has our modern understanding of the superhero become so cramped and reified that an intentional comedy has to delve into the murder of the protagonist’s parents to be enjoyable?

Hear! Hear! Batman has never been about some little kid who witnesses the violent murder of his parents, thus setting him on the path to actually become Batman.

The odd thing about all of this is the very obvious stretching some of these folks make to sound very intellectual and oh so serious while denouncing a dry tongue-in-cheek analysis of a goofy interpretation of a story about a fellow who dresses as a bat and punches crooks.



“i’m sure there’s a star trek re-run on for you to watch”


by RJ White

In today’s Philadelphia Daily News (The People Paper!), columnist Stu “Byko” Bykofsky takes partial credit for a recent initiative by Mayor Michael Nutter to reward straight-A perfect attendance students with seats in the mayor’s box for this season’s Phillies games.

His headline? With Byko-inspired plan, ‘nerds’ are now envied VIPs.

NERRRRDS!

Anyhow, it’s a worthwhile plan and a good idea. Though Bykofsky’s insistence at still calling these kids nerds is a little odd, good for him for putting this out there and for the city for implementing it. I mean, rewarding kids who are doing well is a good thing, right? Well, we’ll see- let’s go to the Philly.com comments. Mr. Squirrelpants? You’re up first-

why are we rewarding kids for being nerds? maybe we can start paying them to sit in their mom’s basements playing videogames, too.

NERRRRDS!

squirrelpants your an idiot.

Mr. Squirrelpants, you have thirty seconds to respond.

i would say someone who doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re is an idiot. go back to the basement with your fellow geeks, i’m sure there’s a star trek re-run on for you to watch.

NERRRRDS!

It is a bad idea to reward someone for doing what they are supposed to be doing in the first place. Whatb this does is teach people to look for more handouts as they get older.

what about students in catholic/private high schools? they’re parents are paying taxes too (probably more than public high school parents). meanwhile, their schools SAVE tax dollars – why aren’t they being awarded for their academic achievements? not to mention the fact that they’re saving the city money, unlike the public school students.

This is a joke. Yeah, way to be racist and prejudiced! Every “bottom dwelling” high schooler is a problem child ON PURPOSE. Right. Many of these kids are in trouble for a reason. Bad parents. Bad influences. poor neighborhoods. yeah, let’s ignore them, and only help those who don’t need help. Way to go Stu you should be so proud. Perfect attendance? Give me a break. Attendance means SQUAT. Half the courses at schools are a waste. And the BRAINY kids that LOVE school don’t need more handouts. This is pathetic.

Great idea to reward high achievers. It’s pretty stupid to reward perfect attendance, though – it means the kid probably came to school when he was at a high risk of transmitting an illness at some point. If too many kids get straight A’s, the reward should go to the upperclassmen. It would certainly be better to give all 600 varsity letters though.

TYPHOID MARY NERRRRRDS

I think this is a good idea, since its an incentive to attend more. I wish they did this when i went to school, tho.. i’d have liked vip tickets. im niche formula

You know, I love that inspirational speech at the end of Revenge of the Nerds, when Anthony Edwards stands up there- “I mean, all our lives we’ve been laughed at and made to feel inferior. And tonight, those bastards, they trashed our house. Why? Cause we’re smart? Cause we look different? Well, we’re not. I’m a niche formula and I’m pretty proud of it.”

At one point or another, we’ve all been a niche formula.

NERRRRRDS!



groping vainly for a clue


by Charlie Bebattica

There is no shortage of stupidity and cluelessness on the internet, but occasionally one stumbles across something that is above and beyond the usual OTC-grade fan entitlement rants or casual homophobia. I’m talking about idiocy so transcendent and pure that it threatens to create a vortex of despair capable of extinguishing any scrap of faith in humanity one has left.

I’m talking about The Open-Source Boob Project, as explained by “theferret.” The narrative has since been cluttered with all manner of backpedaling and qualifiers, some added since I started work on this post, but it began with this:

“This should be a better world,” a friend of mine said. “A more honest one, where sex isn’t shameful or degrading. I wish this was the kind of world where say, ‘Wow, I’d like to touch your breasts,’ and people would understand that it’s not a way of reducing you to a set of nipples and ignoring the rest of you, but rather a way of saying that I may not yet know your mind, but your body is beautiful.”

In other words, it’s not about objectification…it’s about objectification with the opportunity to cop a feel. Theory turns into (a quite fanfic-ish) reality when one of author’s female acquaintances lets him touch her dirty pillows:

We all reached out in the hallway, hands and fingers extended, to get a handful. And lo, we touched her breasts – taking turns to put our hands on the creamy tops exposed through the sheer top she wore, cupping our palms to touch the clothed swell underneath, exploring thoroughly but briefly lest we cross the line from ‘touching” to “unwanted heavy petting.” They were awesome breasts, worthy of being touched.

And life seemed so much simpler.

And, lo, a movement was born! A proud movement where groping becomes an act of empowerment:

And my God! We all reached out like zombies trying to break through a door to get to those breasts. And it wasn’t getting any worse! We weren’t degenerating into an orgy, but rather exploring the amazement of how beautiful this body was and how wonderful it was to have access to them. Nobody was trying to pull off a bra or suck on a nipple; we’d been given access to a very special place that only lovers usually touched, and why would you be so crude as to try to push the boundaries of that?

And every girl in that hallway was then asked the question: “May I touch your breasts?” They considered, and said yes. And we all did.

Of course, it’s not really a movement unless there’s buttons:

At Penguicon, we had buttons to give away. There were two small buttons, one for each camp: A green button that said, “YES, you may” and a red button that said “NO, you may not.” And anyone who had those buttons on, whether you knew them or not, was someone you could approach and ask:

“Excuse me, but may I touch your breasts?”

And if you weren’t a total lout – the women retained their right to say no, of course – they would push their chests out, and you would be allowed into the sanctity of it. That exchange of happiness where one person are told with gropes and touches that they are desirable and the other is someone who’s allowed to desire.

For a moment, everything that was awkward about high school would fade away and you could just say what was on your mind. It was as though parts of me were being healed whenever I did it, and I touched at least fifteen sets of boobs at Penguicon. It never got old, surprisingly.

So what we’re really talking about is simply an elaborate scheme to steal second base dressed up with copious amounts of Reichean cosmobabble. It takes a dedicated individual to create such an elaborate justification for frat boy behavior.

“theferret” mentions “high school” a few times in his purplish recounting of events, suggesting some past tragedy worthy of Jay Gatsby — only instead of reaching for the green light across the bay, he’s reaching for what’s under the green button.

Lost in all the talk of lost inhibitions and discovered beauty is the lopsided power dynamic inherent in these, ahem, “transactions,” specifically whose “needs” are actually being met gratified. A simple working knowledge of group dynamics (and nerd culture) casts some doubt on the supposedly “opt-in,” “no pressure” consensual nature of the arrangement, as it leaves out questions of peer pressure and the need to belong, not to mention the host of associated issues involving a subculture where insecurities and feelings of isolation are commonly found. All high-falutin’ justifications aside, that shit can’t be exorcised by having a stranger feel you up, though there are plenty folks out there who’ll try to argue otherwise in exchange for the opportunity for a free grope.

The lopsided equation brings up other problems in terms of creating an uncomfortable atmosphere for female con attendees, who even if they choose not to participate in the grope-a-rama have to deal with an atmosphere of semi-sanctioned objectification. A female friend of mine who is a frequent con-attendee found the whole idea to be crude and sophomoric, and said she would categorically refuse to attend an event where such practices occurred. “That shit is bad enough without further encouraging the knuckledraggers,” she added.

As the The Open-Source Boob Project’s mission statement appeared in a LiveJournal post, the comments (seven pages worth before being locked down) were the expected mix of echo-chamber words of encouragement and bombastic outrage, leading to this defensive remark by “theferret”:

It would also lessen the intimacy of straight marriages if gay folks were allowed to get together. That would be sad. Because you know, your definition of what “intimacy” is should be the same as mine, and if mine differs then yours should override me. Because you’re not wrong, of course.

Yes, because the struggle for equal rights and protection under the law is exactly the same as a fanboy’s convoluted plot to touch women’s boobs.

When it became clear that the crusade on behalf of free and easy gropery did not meet the expected public approval, the backpedaling began in earnest with a series of passive-aggressive updates and edits posited to suggest that he didn’t really mean what he clearly stated in the original text…

And the chances that the Project would get fucked up, making con spaces more amenable to hordes of stalkers and mouthbreathers who will grope and maul women, are pretty damn big. Hell, it’s already made women feel less safe by me mentioning it, and that makes me feel like shit. As it should.

The Project itself, at least as done at Penguicon, has been turned by the miracle of reposting into some nightmare of eternal groping, female hunting, and a constant stream of denigration. And while that’s not the way it happened – at least from the perspective of the folks who participated that I’ve heard from who have expressed positive opinions behind f-locked posts because they don’t want to endure the commentstreams that I’m getting…

…It doesn’t matter. Scalzi, as usual, got it right: It was highly context-specific. What happened to us, even if it was good, is not what will happen to you. The danger of it getting out of hand is too great – and already, people worry that they’re going to be press-ganged into a groping area if they don’t have a button, despite the fact that I (and others) have said that’s not what happened at all. But honestly? That easily could happen without proper supervision, male power being what it is…

To which I can only add, “No effing kidding, Einstein.” The Scalzi he mentions above refers to author John Scalzi, who offered some heavily qualified support for the idea behind the project, as well as this howler:

Now, how do I feel about it? Well, philosophically, I think it’s fine: I think it’s reasonable for folks to get used to breasts being a component of a whole human, not these strange, mystical entities there to entice and distract one, and if there’s any place where there are people who could benefit from this lesson, it’s a convention full of computer, science fiction and anime geeks, many of whom are very young men (temporally and/or socially). Hopefully some of them benefited from the experience, and not just because they got to touch a girl’s breasts.

So objectification equals demystification? If it’s simply about the theraputive power of human contact, than why breasts, and not, say, shoulders? Why should the burden of mammary-contact therapy fall upon the woman if the male participant is the one who reaps the (rather dubious) presumed benefits?

Most importantly, does anyone have any lye I can borrow? I suspect I’ll be needing some after finishing this post, though I’m unsure whether I’ll use it for cleaning or for culinary purposes.



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