The Screengrab : daredevil

The Hype Report: "Esquire" Reporter Falls Into '90s Time Warp, Catches a Ride with Ben Affleck

Phil Nugent — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 17:00:00 GMT

Tom Chiarella's profile of Ben Affleck for the April issue of Esquire might best be explained as an attempt by the magazine to keep its discontinued "Dubious Achievements" feature by other means. Topped by a headline describing Affleck as "A Smart, Talented Man Trapped in Lindsay Lohan's Life", it begins with a scene of the reporter in a car with his subject after the subject has picked him up, always a sure sign that what the writer most wants to convey in this piece is the message, "Mom! Fill-in-the-blank [name of celebrity] hung out with ME, in a CAR, and HE drove!!" There's just one spot of mold on the six foot hoagie that is Chiarella's life: Affleck picked him up in a loaner. But Chiarella makes lemons with it, seizing this sour persimmon as an excuse for him to dazzle the reader with his deductive skills and ability to buffalo his way into the mind of his superstar quarry: "For some reason Ben Affleck doesn’t want me to see his car. So he's picking me up at my hotel in a new hybrid sedan. White. Nice car but distinctly anonymous, devoid of detail, interior unblazoned by the obvious signifiers of a personal life. A fitted Red Sox cap on the floor and his BlackBerry — that's it...We both know this is a tell that the guy doesn't want to show me anything he doesn't have to." Chiarella doesn't take it personally, because he knows that Affleck is besieged in his everyday life by "sweatpants-wearing, camera-wielding, junior-college-dropout paparazzi"--those other guys who document the lives of celebrities for a living. Chiarella finished junior college, by God! And to prove it, he paints a vivid man-crush prose poem of Affleck, that recognizes that the key to Ben's awesomeness is how much he superficially a regular guy, only better, right? "He's both jumpy and liquid in his movement. He carries himself as if held together with kite string, which means he looks at once crinkly and cool. Jeans, no belt, plain-Jane sneakers, a black long-sleeved T-shirt. And he looks a little more fragile than you'd expect, like a guy thinking about his persistent back pain. The effect: He walks light on the depthless veneer of the world, here on this lambent late afternoon at the joining edge of Beverly Hills and Culver City, where and when the house shadows always insinuate a little doom to me." "Lambent" is the present participle of lambere, i.e., "to lick." I looked it up.

"I'm fresh off four days in Las Vegas," Chiarella writes with an eagerness to share his personal information with the reader that marks him as one of those exciting "New Journalists" the kids are talking about, "just coming into the shallow end of my hangover, feeling as spiritless and empty as the very car we're riding in." (You're not bored with the car stuff yet, are you? That tree has not yet begun to be tapped.) Chiarella aches for his new friend, "Ben Affleck, the one guy in the world who should own this particular geography. But being out in the world hurts him a little. That's what Affleck shows." Like Anthony Quinn in Lawrence of Arabia, he has riches and yet he is poor, because he is a river to his people. He is the only man alive who can never pull himself back from the ledge of despair by reminding himself that if he just hangs on long enough, he may yet once again enter a movie theater and restoreth his soul by gazing on the unparalleled beauty and life force of Ben Affleck. (Well, except for blind people. And those who are technically living but in comas. And those folks you read about in the Post sometimes who are too fat to squeeze through the doors of their homes. But then, they might get to see him when the movies make it to cable.) And then Affleck turns his eyes on his interlocutor and interrupts his reverie by telling him, ""You need to eat." It is just the first insight of Affleck's that reveals that he understands his passenger, and that he cares whether or not he dies of malnutrition while in his care. Upon learning that Chiarella spent four days in Vegas, Affleck sympathizes: "Man, you stayed there too long." There's a lot of Yoda in Ben Affleck.

This stuff would be pretty funny if Chiarella were hanging out with Nelson Mandela, but what makes it priceless is that he's advertising how starstruck he is by Ben Affleck, a man whose dozen or so years in the limelight have a clear, commonly shared arc in terms of public perception. When he first broke through in 1997, partly through his starring role in Kevin Smith's Chasing Amy, but mostly as Matt Damon's co-star and Academy Award-winning screenwriter on Good Will Hunting, Affleck was greeted as a major star, every girl's dream date, and a classy creative presence--he could write! Hollywood, and the entertainment media, very, very much wanted to treat him as a big deal, deserving of box office, respect, awards, and Gwynneth Paltrow. It would have taken a lot of very lazy performances in especially cheesy movies to turn that around, and Affleck was more than happy to oblige. Armageddon, Pearl Harbor, The Sum of All Fear, Paycheck, Gigli, Daredevil--those are just the high-profile cow turds, and while there are lots of stars who've struggled to keep their good name while making bad movie after bad movie, one of the great constants of Affleck's terrible movies was how frequently he was the worst thing in them. By 2003, when New York Times critic A. O. Scott wanted to indicate that Edward Burns's performance in the movie Confidence did not make him prime Golden Globe material, he wrote that Burns was "so glib and lazy as to make Ben Affleck look like the young Dustin Hoffman."

Now, Affleck pulled out of it a couple of years ago--not by improving his acting, but by stepping behind the camera and directing a very good version of a Dennis Lehane novel, Gone Baby Gone. More power to him--everybody loves a good comeback story. But what's amazing, and a little disturbing, about Chiraella's mash note is that he doesn't seem to know what is known to everyone who, at some point between Shakespeare in Love and Smokin' Aces, picked up a copy of People in a hair salon in North Carolina. To him, Affleck is and always has been "that Boston guy, the man's man, the guy who tore off three of the best monologues in movie history — at the end of Good Will Hunting, in a cameo in Boiler Room, and at the climax of Chasing Amy — man-o-logues, transformative, deconstructible speeches that speak right into the skull box of the self-aware. They are what you remember about him. Not J.Lo. Not Gigli. Not his dim pass in Jersey Girl. Affleck the writer, once a cat-around guy, still a seriously good cardplayer, and now the emergent actor-director of his generation. He's hard on the heels of Gone Baby Gone, a film so provocative in its moral questioning, so deep in the tissue of a Boston neighborhood that it made Scorsese's much celebrated The Departed look genteel and chockablock with its crank-up-the-Goodfellas intensity. There was one great movie about Boston a couple of years ago: It was Affleck's. And he wrote it, adapted it from Dennis Lehane, with a friend from high school. He is a man's man, a friend's friend." He and Damon go way back too, of course. It's hard to know too much about Affleck without starting to wonder if maybe his greatest talent--unless you can call having a face a talent--was for making the right friends in high school.

"When we dropped the car, a guy at the valet stand took out his camera phone and asked, just by poking the camera in the air, a gesture that didn't exist ten years ago, Can I have your image to carry in my pocket?" I guess we could have had the gesture ten years ago, but it seemed prudent to wait until camera phone technology was more widely disseminated. I probably only imagine that a vote was taken at some point. "Affleck squinted, dipped his head. He gives in to this outside world — Yes, take my image — but it does not interest him to see it." Of course, he has easier access to his image than the rest of us, assuming that there are reflective surfaces in his home. "He grinds things"--eyeglass lenses? spare keys? his teeth?--" as he speaks, winnows details, finds a thread and pulls it. He speaks in runs, funny, at times halting, always bearing in on a cleaner, more relevant point. This tends to lead him to the larger issues of his work, his career, his path through life. And although there's nothing obviously self-possessed about him, his answers always take the shape of a metaphor for himself." Reading this, many readers will wish that Chiarella had filmed Affleck while he was talking, and gridning and winnowing and finding and pulling, and posted it on YouTube. Chiarella may have thought that would cross a line, but instead, as a fun party game, he proposes a way for the reader to pretend for a few seconds that he is Ben Affleck: "Look at this next passage, for example. Read it aloud and you will automatically sound like Ben Affleck. I typed it carefully, direct from the tape, leaving out no stutter or fragment. Read it with speed, with considered imprecision, as if what's occurring to you might really lead you to the next point. Replace calculation with momentum. Speak a little quicker at the end of sentences; be excited as you near conclusions." Sing out, Louise! Smile, baby.

It's no small offering Chiarella offers the common man, this chance to sound like Ben Affleck, especially when he's "not throwing a bunch of monkey shit against the actor wall to see what sticks. He's taking a boilerplate, stupid, out-of-the-gate question on my part and road-mapping his psyche with the answer." But Chiarella does himself an injustice by denigrating his own question; clearly, Affleck was impressed with his new friend, and felt that he was right to let him inside his life, because after they split up and were trading e-mails, Affleck took pity and sent him a detailed description of the inside of his real car, the one that Chiarella was not privileged to ride inside. I'm sure that he knew that he'd done the right thing to entrust this information to Chiarella when he cracked open his copy of Esquire and saw that the hellzapoppin author actually used the term "man-o-logue" twice! Here's hoping he copyrights it before it spreads.

Screengrab Salutes The Best & Worst Comic Book Movies Of All Time (Part Four)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 22:30:00 GMT

The Worst:

THE SHADOW (1994)

There are movies I remember as terrible, and then there are movies I simply don’t remember at all...as if a mysterious vigilante with the power to cloud men’s minds had simply erased all traces of this pre-intentionally-funny Alec Baldwin snoozer from my consciousness. The plot synopsis on Wikipedia sounds far more entertaining than the actual film, what with its dirty hypnotism, 1930s Genghis Khan revivalism and Phurba, the living knife (no relation to Furby or Flowbee). But even after reviewing the plot and rewatching a few YouTube clips, there are still only three things I really remember about the film. One, it co-stars Penelope Ann Miller...almost never a good sign. Two, the villain (played by John Lone) uses mental powers to make New Yorkers think his luxury hotel is invisible...a neat trick somebody oughta teach Donald Trump. And finally (and most memorably), my old pal Radmar Jao has the best line in the movie, advising someone not to light up in the hero’s secret lair: “No smoking in the Skull Cave.” Oh...wait a minute...that was that OTHER completely unmemorable 1990s adaptation of a 1930s comic: The Phantom, starring Billy Zane and Kristy Swanson (easily winning the bland-off with Miller). But, hey...at least Radmar was good.

ROAD TO PERDITION (2002)

Based on a graphic novel by Max Allan Collins, Perdition takes a simple revenge tale, adds a dollop of sins-of-the-father melodrama, and inflates the flimsy result to Biblical proportions. Tom Hanks plays Michael Sullivan, a hit man working for Paul Newman's John Rooney, mob boss of a Chicago suburb in the era of Al Capone. When his son Mike witnesses a gangland execution, Sullivan is forced to hit the road with the kid in tow, and soon father and son are bonding over a bank-robbing spree. Despite the pre-release speculation that Perdition would serve as the vehicle for Tom Hanks' first "bad guy" performance, the star delivers another of his flawed but noble saints. Sure, Michael Sullivan is a killer, but since almost everyone else in the movie is more vicious, and they're all out to get him, he comes off as a guy who's just doing what he's gotta do to protect his son. If you didn’t know Sam Mendes directed this tedious would-be epic, you'd swear it was a movie by master of bloat Frank Darabont. Nearly every scene is leaden, weighed down with portent and production designed to death. Torrents of rain are always pouring from the brims of fedoras while grim-faced men fire tommy guns into other grim-faced men who tumble to their doom in artful slow motion. It’s designed to be Oscar bait, but fortunately no one was biting.

HOWARD THE DUCK (1986)

This jaw-dropper, which was proudly emblazoned with the name of George Lucas, and which was the last movie directed by American Graffiti co-writer Willard Huyck -- he's still alive, but trust me, he's never going to direct another one -- belongs to what may well be the most select of all groups, movies that were catastrophic box-office and critical failures that nobody will now argue is actually a misunderstood work of genius. Heaven's Gate, Myra Breckinridge, At Long Last Love, Ishtar, hell, maybe Battlefield Earth -- each of them has some crackpot out there who'll keep you up all night explaining what's really so great about it. Not this thing. It's not even worth discussing its failure to in any way represent what's good, or even what sucks, about its alleged source material, an uneven but gorgeously cranky and weird Marvel series that writer Steve Gerber spun off from a supporting character he once threw into a Man-Thing comic, reportedly just to annoy his bosses. All you can do is stare at the thing and wonder what in God's sweet name they thought they were doing, until the noise becomes too much and you have to tune out. Howard was the first Marvel Comics-based movie to make it to theaters, and it is in fact harder to sit through than any number of subsequent Marvel-based projects that went straight to video. The only evidence that the people who made this had any sense at all is that, in the trailer and other publicity materials, they did their damndest to keep prospective ticket-buyers from getting a clear look at the poor bastard in the duck suit. If they'd found a way to keep people watching the movie from getting a clear look at it, they might have made some of their money back.

ELEKTRA (2005)

I’m pretty sure no one wanted Marvel Studios to resurrect Elektra, the hot ninja assassin (played by Jennifer Garner) who died in the dreadful Daredevil. But with Garner’s star on the rise, the fetching killer rose from the grave for this 2005 spin-off, a tiresome dud in which we learn that Elektra suffers from obsessive-compulsive disorder but doesn’t mind tussling with (and spilling the blood of) yucky villains, is a trained murderer-for-hire who nonetheless has a pesky conscience, and likes to prance about like a runway model when not dispatching superpowered goons. Rob Bowman’s film has no energy or depth but plenty of turgid drama involving Elektra’s grief over her mother’s death and her tutelage under blind mentor Stick (Terence Stamp), unimaginative nonsense that – like the PG-13 ogling of Garner’s buff (but always clothed) body – unfortunately takes precedence over the heroine’s clashes with a group of intriguing baddies like Tattoo, a man whose body art comes to deadly life.

SUPERMAN IV: THE QUEST FOR PEACE (1987)

It certainly didn’t take long for the Superman franchise to bottom out. While many superhero legacies merely drop in quality, becoming disappointments after the first few installments, the Superman movies went from first to worst in the twinkling of an eye, and by the time the fourth installment rolled around, fans were praying for a hailstorm of kryptonite to kill the damn things off for good. When Superman IV was made, a combination of factors practically ensured it would be a disaster: the non-participation of many of the supporting players, the demands by Christopher Reeve to have more creative input, and the passing of the rights to the franchise from the Salkinds to the deplorable hacks at Golan-Globus. Reeve was given his script input, and the result was a well-meaning pile of shit so rank that he eventually pretended he didn’t have anything to do with it; and while Sidney Furie gets the official blame for directing this incoherent, overlong, and utterly incompetent disaster, most people believe that the real responsibility lies with uberhack/swindler/bad movie mogul Menahem Golan, who apparently spent most of the filming screaming at anyone who bothered to stick around the set. Superman IV: The Quest for Peace was made for a fraction of what the previous films had cost, and it shows; if nothing else, it serves as a potent reminder to those who were so disappointed by Superman III that things can always get worse.

Click Here For Part One, Two, Three, Five & Six

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Scott Von Doviak, Phil Nugent, Nick Schager & Leonard Pierce

Screengrab Salutes The Best & Worst Comic Book Movies Of All Time (Part Two)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 21:30:00 GMT

The Worst:

CATWOMAN (2004)

Attacking Catwoman is almost too easy: it’s such an obvious, defenseless target, what with stinking up the box office like week-old kitty litter, damaging the careers of all responsible and winning Razzies for Worst Picture, Worst Screenplay, Worst Director (for “Pitof,” if that IS your real name) and Worst Actress for Halle Berry (whose Golden Raspberry acceptance speech alone very nearly redeemed both her performance AND her embarrassingly overwrought Oscar speech for Monster’s Ball, including gems like, “First of all, I want to thank Warner Bros. Thank you for putting me in a piece of shit, God-awful movie . . .it was just what my career needed”). But...nope, we’ll never be done kicking Catwoman, for oh, so many reasons. Geeks hated the flick (set in “Lake City” rather than Gotham) for heedlessly violating the sacred mythology of the source material, straight guys hated the way Berry dishonored the legacy of Kitt, Newmar, Meriwether and Pfeiffer by somehow making Catwoman (CATWOMAN!!!!!) distinctly unsexy, fashionistas hated the godawful costume, feminists hated the fact that while male superheroes were out saving the world, Berry’s crusader was investigating a frickin’ cosmetics company and right-thinking people everywhere coughed up hairballs of disgust to discover the whole tacky disaster somehow managed to cost 100 million dollars. But even worse is the nagging sense of how totally awesome a good Catwoman movie might have been...and how we’ll never, ever get to see it now. Thanks a bunch, Pitof.

FROM HELL (2001)

If you think Zack Snyder had a dense, intricate Alan Moore work on his hands when he set about adapting Watchmen, consider what the Hughes Brothers stepped into when they decided to bring Moore’s graphic novel From Hell to the screen. A speculative fiction based on the legend of Jack the Ripper, From Hell is an insanely detailed look at an alternate Victorian England and the massive conspiracy at its heart. It’s endlessly fascinating stuff, and the Hughes Brothers threw away just about all of it in order to make a nonsensical Se7en-style serial killer bloodbath. Johnny Depp is the police investigator, who is given opium-induced psychic powers here that he never possessed in the comics, while that great British actress Heather Graham plays the cockney prostitute he romances. The entire plot has been re-jiggered into a lame whodunit, thus jettisoning almost every unique aspect of Moore’s take on the Ripper story. It’s not shocking that such minutiae as the extensive tour of London’s Masonic architecture wouldn't make it to the screen, but keeping the Ripper's identity a secret throughout the movie only robs the story of its most interesting character. Worst of all, Hughes and Hughes don’t even bother trying to recreate the look of the comic – the whole sooty, early-Industrial vibe. From Hell looks like it was shot on the set of a Batman movie, which is probably what the brothers would have rather been doing in the first place.

BATMAN AND ROBIN (1997)

After the departure of Tim Burton and Michael Keaton, Warner Bros. put the Batman franchise in the unsteady, garish hands of director Joel Schumacher, who told everyone within earshot that he wanted to return to the "campy" tone of the old Adam West series, as if daring everyone in earshot to scream at him, "What're ya, high!?" Schumacher's first Batman movie, Batman Forever, which featured Tommy Lee Jones giving a performance that would have embarrassed Rip Taylor and Chris O'Donnell capering in his underoos and declaiming, "Holy twisted metal, Batman!", was one of the worst big-budget horrors ever, and damned if the old boy didn't manage to top it in his follow-up. Pre-release word on the movie was terrible, but Schumacher stubbornly continued to talk it up until his megaton bomb hit theater screens, inducing pain and suffering in all who had eyes that see. Schumacher reacted defensively at first -- "I had no idea that putting nipples on the Batsuit and Robin suit were [sic] going to spark international headlines," he pouted, in stubborn denial of the likelihood that people were trying to be nice and the nipples were the least objectionable thing about his movie. By then it was clear that, in the summer comic-book movie sweepstakes, the Caped Crusader had gotten his nuts crushed by Men in Black, a movie based on a comic little read by people outside the artist's and writer's immediate families.

DAREDEVIL (2003)

With X-Men and Spider-Man having solidified its status as king of the superhero-film hill, Marvel must have thought itself invincible, because only hubris could possibly explain the comic giant’s decision to okay Mark Steven Johnson’s take on Daredevil, the blind lawyer who combats crime at night. From the cheesy tone, to Johnson’s habit of turning his camera on extreme angles, to the miscasting of Ben Affleck, to the soft-core love scene featuring Daredevil and Jennifer Garner’s sexy assassin Elektra, Daredevil is a fiasco through and through, turning its hero into a second-rate Batman whose every extraordinary leap, jump and twirl is the byproduct of lame CGI. Johnson shoots every action sequence with maximum spasticity, setting his fights in rain and strobe lights and editing them to ribbons. Stuck headlining this misbegotten adaptation, Affleck vainly attempts to act tortured by flashing a variety of grimaces, all while an overacting Colin Farrell attempts to devour any scenery in sight as the hysterically corny villain Bullseye.

THE SPIRIT (2008)

With The Dark Knight proving in 2008 that it was possible to make a truly great superhero movie, it was actually kind of a relief to have Frank Miller remind us that same year that it was still possibly to make a truly rank one. Miller himself is one of the greatest comic artists and writers the industry has ever seen; though his work has been spotty in recent years, in the 1980s, he put out a fistful of some of the greatest superhero stories in the history of the medium. As a director, though, he’s a hell of a banjo player. Utilizing the same tricks he relied on in Sin City, but with a notably weaker cast and a downright rotten script, he took the Spirit – a venerable crimefighting character created by the beloved Will Eisner – and stuck him in a movie that would have to be twice as good as it is to be an embarrassment. Sidled with an incoherent screenplay, a tone-deaf sense of mood and pacing, a lot of wasted femmes fatale, and Samuel Jackson in one of the most deranged (and not in a good way) villain roles in recent memory, The Spirit would have been a disaster regardless, but the final nail in the coffin was the casting of charisma-free nobody Gabriel Macht in the lead role. Macht brought a Twinkie-heavy sense of anti-gravity to the Spirit the likes of which we haven’t seen since a young fellow named Klinton Spilsbury donned the mask of the Lone Ranger in his first, and last, motion picture role. Miller’s lucky he built up so much credibility in his comics career, because movies as crappy as The Spirit have ruined lesser men.

Click Here For Part One, Three, Four, Five & Six

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Scott Von Doviak, Phil Nugent, Nick Schager, Leonard Pierce

Ed Brubaker: From Comic Book Lowlife to Hollywood Player

Phil Nugent — Thu, 05 Mar 2009 16:30:00 GMT

All the excitement over movies like Watchmen is likely to create an opening for younger writers working in comics; after all, somebody's got to provide the raw materials that Hollywood will pounce on after it runs out of classic comics series to turn into movies. At least, that's the hope of people like Ed Brubaker, who recently shared his hopes and dreams with Los Angeles Times blogger Greg Braxton. "Last summer changed everything, you could feel it," says Brubaker, who had no credit on The Dark Knight but ended up getting a payday out of it anyway: "I even got money for the Batman movie because DC felt like there were fingerprints of stories I had written in the movie." In a comics universe where "mainstream" superhero creators and "alternative" creators are generally assumed to have limited interest in each other's work and, in their grumpier moments, to wish each other dead, Brubaker is unusual in having started out in the grungiest of "alternative" circles and wound up writing about costumed crimefighters. In the early '90s, Brubaker was part of the autobiographical comics scene with his Lowlife series, which featured thrilling, two-fisted tales of ripping off his employer, having his artwork compared unfavorably to that of Chester Brown, and needed a haircut. (He also edited the superb, single-issue comics anthology Monkey Wrench.) Brubaker began to edge towards the mainstream, and away from illustrating his own scripts, with the story An Accidental Death, which was drawn by Eric Shanower (Age of Bronze) and serialized in Dark Horse Presents in 1992, before being reprinted as a stand-alone volume by Fantagraphics. (That must have been sweet, given that it was the rejection by Fantagraphics' Kim Thompson that inspired the Lowlife story "You're a Good Man, Chester Brown.")

Brubaker had done work for DC Comics starting in the mid-90s, but he didn't start writing superhero comics until 2000, when he first started writing Batman. He's currently writing both Captain America and Daredevil for Marvel. But his real interest, from An Accidental Death to his Marvel Icon series Criminal, is in crime fiction, and much of his most interesting work, including his series Sleeper and the new Incognito (which is about a super-powered villain in the Witness Protection Program) has one foot in the world of superheroes and the other in hard-boiled fiction. Sam Raimi and Tom Cruise are reportedly interested in making a movie version of Sleeper, but in the meantime, Brubaker is testing the waters of live action with Angel of Death, a new web series he's created for Crackle.com, Sony's bid for your on-line entertainment fix. The series, which premieres this week and will consist of ten weekly installments, stars stunt woman and Death Proof star Zoe Bell as a hired killer who turns on her employers after suffering a traumatic head injury. (The cast also includes Doug Jones and Lucy Lawless, which must have made for quite an on-set reunion; Bell used to work as Lawless's stunt double on Xena: Warrior Princess. Brubaker says that Sony "green-lit it before I even wrote it, and they started filming two weeks after the final draft. I guess that's the world we're living in right now." You can watch episode one below:

From Crackle: Angel of Death Ep 1 "Edge" starring Zoe Bell

Helming the Heroes

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 17:15:00 GMT

The recent proliferation of superhero movies have taught us that, of all things, auteur theory ain't quite dead yet. Hand your project over to a director of unique vision, a man with deep obsessions and specific stylistic and thematic ideas, and you get The Dark Knight. Hand your project over to a director with big ideas but not enough talent to carry them off, and you get Daredevil. Hand your project over to a director with no ideas and no talent, and you get Elektra. As goes art, so goes action: even in the cinema of capes and cowls, it's all about the director.

So, given that, what can we expect from yesterday's announcements about who will be helming two hotly anticipated comic book projects? The new Captain America flick, the last big Marvel solo adventure until we're treated to the long-awaited Avengers movie, will be directed by Joe Johnston; the new Conan the Barbarian (which isn't based on a comic, but features a character whose prominence in modern-day geek consciousness is more attributable to Roy Thomas' 1970s Marvel comics series than it is to Robert E. Howard's original stories) has fallen into the hands of Brett Ratner.

Neither of these guys are Christopher Nolan-level filmmakers, or even Bryan Singer-level filmmakers. How successful these films will be depends on which director shows up with his A-game; if we get the Joe Johnston who directed the charming, underrated superhero movie The Rocketeer, then Captain America could be a patriotic, nostalgic romp, but if we get the Joe Johnston who directed Jumanji, we could be in for a long wait until The Avengers comes out. Ratner has nothing as good as The Rocketeer on his resume, and he's also single-handedly responsible for trashing the X-Men franchise. Add to that the fact that, instead of legit heavyweights like John Milius and Oliver Stone (who did the original 1982 film version of Conan) providing him with a script, he's got the guys who did A Sound of Thunder, and we don't think anyone will be forgetting Schwarzenegger's version anytime soon.

Benecio del Toro is The Wolfman

Fox Takes Marvel's Dare

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 15:30:00 GMT

Adaptations of Marvel Comics have been doing great business at the box office for almost ten years now, from X-Men to Spider-Man to Iron Man. And, just like in the comics, when one creative team doesn't find an audience, the big bosses at Marvel Films have been more than willing to try again with new writers, directors, and stars; Fantastic Four wasn't a critical success, but it made enough money to spawn a sequel; Ang Lee's Hulk was an ambitious letdown, but Marvel handed the property over to Edward Norton for a second chance; and The Punisher is being given another go-round despite two dismal adaptations so far. The one Marvel superhero franchise that hasn't been talked up for a reboot so far has been Daredevil (and its even worse spin-off, Elektra). That's probably because the original -- helmed by a hapless Mark Steven Johnson and starring an out-of-it Ben Affleck -- was such a piece of junk that no one wanted a second try at it.

That may be about to change. 20th Century Fox's co-chair, Tim Rothman, insists that the studio will be pairing with Marvel Films to produce another installment of the adventures of everyone's favorite blind lawyer/costumed vigilante; he's just not saying when. Or who. Or where, how, or perhaps most importantly, why. In a cagey interview with IESB, Rothman says the deed will get done, but fails to name names, and cites a curious precedent: "I think that the thing The Hulk showed...is that it is possible, that if you really do it right the audience will give you a second chance." Exactly what was done right about Norton's Hulk reboot and exactly who gave it a second chance is unclear: the movie was tepidly reviewed, and made almost exactly as much money as Ang Lee's famouse 'failure'. But hey, the spirit is willing even if the facts are weak.

While Rothman goes on to namecheck Christopher Nolan and his approach to the Distinguished Competition's Batman franchise as a possible peek at what the tone of the next Daredevil film might be, it's clearly too early to start talking about personnel. Which, in a way, is too bad: if Daredevil's worth doing, it's worth doing right. As we reported in this space a while back, Frank Miller and Jason Statham have both expressed some interest in a Daredevil movie, and one of the hottest action stars of today combined with the man who wrote some of the best Daredevil stories in comic book history could make for an intriguing film. On the other hand, if all Fox intends to do is find the next Mark Steven Johnson -- well, wake us when X-Men 4 is ready.

Related Posts:

Jason Statham: I Dare You

Don't Mess With The Norton

DVD Digest for September 30, 2008

Paul Clark — Tue, 30 Sep 2008 14:00:00 GMT

This week, a master’s final film shares the shelves with one of the summer’s biggest hits and a number of classic horror films coming out just in time for Halloween.

DVD of the Week: For years, the Criterion Collection has been committed to releasing superior DVD version of the films of the great director Yasujiro Ozu. Now, they’re continuing their commitment with this week’s release of Ozu’s final film, An Autumn Afternoon. In many ways, the film is a color analogue to Ozu’s classic (and my favorite film of his) Late Spring, this time telling the story of an aging man and his reluctant-to-marry daughter from the perspective of the father, played as ever by Ozu stalwart Chishu Ryu. With the switch in perspective away from youth to old age, it’s tempting to read An Autumn Afternoon as a kind of farewell piece by the filmmaker, a kind of passing of the torch to younger filmmakers. Yet it’s clear while watching the film that Ozu was as talented in his final years as he was in the prime of his career, and his seamless shift to color with his final films provide a hint that he might have been able to gracefully change with the times while keeping his one-of-a-kind style.

Other “classics” coming to DVD this week include the 123-minute cut of Andrzej Zulawski’s Possession (Ryko) and, uh, the “10th Anniversary Edition” of Can’t Hardly Wait (Sony) for which I know you were all clamoring.

The week’s biggest new release on DVD is Iron Man (Paramount, also Blu-Ray), the first and one of the biggest summer blockbusters, and much-anticipated arrival of Robert Downey Jr. on Hollywood’s A-list. Also of note is the Judd Apatow production Forgetting Sarah Marshall (Universal, also Blu-Ray), which is also included in Universal’s Ultimate Unrated Comedy Collection (also Blu-Ray) alongside fellow Apatow films The 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up. Other recent releases coming to DVD: Taxi to the Dark Side (Image), CSNY / Déjà vu (Lionsgate), and Jellyfish (Zeitgeist).

This week’s rather sparse TV on DVD selections include: My Name Is Earl Season 3 (Fox) and Numb3rs Season 4 (Paramount).

Finally, in Blu-Ray Only news, this week brings Universal’s “Halloween Starter Pack”, which includes Dawn of the Dead [2004], Land of the Dead, and The Thing, also sold separately, and the director’s cut of Daredevil (Fox).

Jason Statham: I Dare You

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 18:30:00 GMT

Marvel's recent forays into the world of superhero films have been dynamite. With the Spider-Man franchise more or less held up as the gold standard of super-action, the X-Men movies still holding up strong despite the disastrous third installment, the recent Iron Man film reminding everyone of how much fun comics are supposed to be, and even the Hulk reboot carrying with it the perception of success even though it basically matched the box office numbers of its unfairly vilified Ang Lee predecessor, it's easy to forget they're plenty capable of super-duds. The 2003 adaptation of Daredevil is one of Marvel's few notable duds (the less said about the Elektra spinoff the better); a lukewarm lead performance by Ben Affleck, a morally and technically confused plot, and uncertain direction by Mark Steven Johnson were largely to blame.

Still, for comics fans, the character has a lot of life to give, and most devotees of the comic -- particularly of the so-called "Born Again" plot arc of the 1980s, with its stark religious imagery, sense of moral atonement, and brutal, noirish crime elements, all of which were present in the 2003 movie but ineptly handled -- would be more than willing to give a chance to a potential remake. And while there's nothing official in the works, according to Geoff Boucher, proprietor of the L.A. Times' genre-driven "Hero Complex" blog, if a remake ever gets made, it may benefit from an infusion of a much more dynamic, enthusiastic and charismatic lead actor in the person of Jason Statham.

In the waning hours of the San Diego ComicCon, Boucher found himself in a hotel bar in the presence of stuntman turned actor Statham (there to promote his remake of Death Race 2000) and Frank Miller, who wrote the "Born Again" stories and was primarily responsible for Daredevil's stunning renaissance of the 1980s and early 1990s (and who was there to hype his movie version of Will Eisner's The Spirit). Statham expressed a keen interest in playing the alter ego of blind lawyer Matt Murdock: "Just give me the chance. I would love to play Daredevil." Miller quietly agreed that he thinks Statham's good for the role. But does the rest of the world? It's easy to see the explosive, rough-and-tumble Statham turning Daredevil's action scenes into gripping, bloody street combat, but it's less easy to imagine him losing his bluster to play the sightless attorney, who hides himself behind a mask of timidity to lull his many opponents. Whether or not this really happens is contingent on Marvel's permission (though they maintain strong times to Miller), and how successful the Spirit movie is -- a bomb may take Miller out of the driver's seat, while a success may make him a player with the resources to make whatever movie he wants, including an adaptation of one of his best-loved works in "Born Again".

Can you see Statham in the devil horns and red long johns? Sound off in comments...

Marvel Comics is Ready for Its Close-Up

Frank Miller Gets Into the Spirit at Comic-Con

Phil Nugent — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 15:04:00 GMT

Frank Miller, writes Kevin Scanlon in The New York Times, "exudes comics cred." This week, Miller will be at the opening of the San Diego Comic-Con International, where comics professionals will be honored with the presentation of the annual Eisner Awards, named for the legendary writer-artist Will Eisner. According to Scanlan, "few outside fandom have any idea" who Eisner-- who died three years ago at the age of 87, though he seemed to have been around for much longer than that and to have been active in his field for most of that time--was, and I will take his word for it, since I've spent most of my life in the company of people, myself not excepted, who were more likely to be able to recite Eisner's bibliography chapter and verse than to know how to add fractions. As the creator of the urban detective strip The Spirit (and, later, one of the first producers of a "graphic novel"), Eisner was always hailed for his "cinematic" style, his way of bringing the mood and feel of an action-packed film noir to the four-color page. So was Miller, when he first made a splash with his own take on the crime comic disguised as a superhero comic, Daredevil. (It was to humor those publishers who thought that a comics hero had to be a costumed crimefighter that Eisner drew two horizontal lines across the Spirit's face and called that a mask.) However, Eisner, who spent the last thirty years of his life trying to make a case, through his own work, for the artistic validity of comics, never made the leap to actual filmmaking. Miller did, when he collaborated with Robert Rodriguez on the 2005 big-screen version of Miller' Sin City. At that time, Rodriguez would up resigning from the Directors' Guild after they refused to let him share full credit with this uncredentialed, pen-wielding upstart. Several million dollars at the box office later--both from Sin City and the movie version of Miller's 300, a movie that is its look, and whose look was transferred complete and intact from the paper version-- Miller had little difficulty getting the go-ahead for his first solo directing project, and that project is The Spirit.

Another connection between Eisner and Miller is that, having made their names telling stories in a medium over which they had more or less complete control, neither readily took to Hollywood's free-and-easy approach to intellectual property, or its dismissive attitude towards whoever does the writing. Miller, whose Daredevil comics and origin reboot Batman: Year One are drenched in the spare imagery and dark, tilted shadows of basement-budget noir, and whose Dark Knight miniseries gave the world an older, crustier Batman recast in the mold of a Clint Eastwood hero, first dallied with Hollywood in the late 1980s, when he worked as a screenwriter on some RoboCop sequels. That experience sent him screaming back to his drawing board unti Robert Rodriguez showed up at his door, on bended knee. Now Miller is in the driver's seat, and out there selling his baby. (Also at Comic-Con this year are the movie's star, Gabriel Macht, and co-star Samuel L. Jackson. (Those who know the comic will be either relieved or sorely disappointed to learn that Mr. Jackson does not play the classic strip's most prominent African-American character, Ebony White, the Spirit's biggest male fan, and a constant source of embarrassment to contemporary readers: in keeping with the standards of the time, Ebony looked like a blob of ink with big rubber lips. He is not featured in the movie, having been cast into P.C. oblivion to keep the cast of Bob Clampett's Coal Black and de Sebben Dwarfs company.) As for Eisner, he fought to maintain control of his characters rather than score a payday by selling them off to the movies, and reportedly had to be talked in off the ledge after seeing a 1980s TV movie allegedly based on The Spirit. Producer Michael Uslan pitched the idea of a Spirit movie to Miller, and recalls that at the suggestion, "Frank looked at me like I was out of my mind. He said: ‘Touch the work of the master? How could I do that?’ About 10 minutes later he tapped me on my shoulder and said, ‘I can’t let anyone else touch it.’ ” Early trailers for the movie have done their best to make it look like Sin Cty 2--which is coming, and which Miller hopes will ultimately be the second film in a trilogy--but Eisner's world was very different than the bleak, monochrome vision reflected in the recent Miller comics that have made it to the movies, and Miller knows that. “The only ways [Sin City and The Spirit] resemble each other," Miller says, "are the ways that I learned from Will Eisner: the use of black and white, certainly the rapturous approach to women.” Visually, Sin City, with its hyperbolic black and white design, certainly represented some kind of apotheosis of such performers as Rosario Dawson, Carla Gugino, Jessica Alba, and Jaime King, and the cast of The Spirit includes King, Eva Mendes, Paz Vega, upcoming Bond girl Stana Vatic, Sarah Paulsen (as the daughter of Police Commissioner Dolan, which means that in this company, she's the closest thing to the girl next door), and the future Mrs. Ryan Reynolds. So, you know, let the rapture begin.

Marvel Comics Is Ready for Its Close-Up

Phil Nugent — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 16:00:00 GMT

A long time ago when the world made sense, there were two kinds of comic books: DC comics and Marvel comics. And while Marvel reigned supreme at the comics shop, the company dearly wanted to break into the lucrative and ego-stroking business of licensing it characters for major motion pictures, and it was there that DC pantsed Marvel and took its lunch money. While DC was the home of Superman and Batman, Marvel was the home base of Howard the Duck. For years, Marvel's role in the Hollywood fod chain was epitomized by the 1994 Fantastic Four movie, a cheesy, cheap-looking affair that Marvel put into production without bothering to inform the people who worked on it that they had no intention of releasing it to theaters or even home video but were contractually obliged to make something if they wanted to hang onto the film rights to their own characters. All that started to change in 2000 with Bryan Singer's X-Men, whose success the director was unable to duplicate with his later stab at rebooting Superman. A couple of years later, Sam Raimi's take on the Marvel flagship hero Spider-Man launched a major franchise and proved that Marvel could sire a blockbuster movie without Singer or Hugh Jackman modeling a haircut that could open bottles and cans. Since then, Marvel has had varying degrees of commercial success with a for-real Fantastic Four movie and its sequel, as well as Ghost Rider, Daredevil, and Elektra, a bust in theaters but more of an earner as a DVD release that allowed film connoisseurs to conduct a close study of Jennifer Garner's moist eyes and washboard abs in the tranquil setting of their own fortress of solitude. Even The Punisher managed to make it into theaters with John Travolta on the poster, which helps to set it apart from the 1989 straight-to-video version, with Dolph Lundgren grunting his lines as if his tight skull-face T-shirt were cutting off his circulation.

Stage two in Marvel's renewed campaign to take over the film industry goes into effect on May 2 when Iron Man, the first official production of Marvel Studios, is released to theaters. As reporter Geoff Boucher puts it, this marks "the first step in the company's quest to go from intellectual-property fount to a stand-alone Hollywood player that can greenlight big-time popcorn movies." Studio chairman David Maisel crows that "We're the first since DreamWorks started 14 years ago that can greenlight its own $100 million movies. It doesn't happen very often." In some ways, Marvel might still look pretty small to the big guys: the "studio" is modestly staffed and will rely mostly on Paramount to distribute their finished films. What they do have is the backlist of established characters, many of them created back in the golden days when the legendary Stan Lee and the uber-legendary Jack Kirby were striking sparks together, despite Marvel founder-publisher Martin Goodman's attempts to rein in his brainstorming boys by reminding them that their reading base consisted of "children and a few illiterate adults." (Boy, the more things change, the more things stay the same, huh?) As Maisel puts it, "We're not in the movie business, we're in the Iron Man business right now. Marvel owns the intellectual property. We have an Iron Man video game coming, the toys, the comics, we have an animated television show coming, a direct-to-DVD animated Iron Man movie last year. We're going to have an Iron Man ride at an amusement park in Dubai in a few years." They're also in the Ant-Man business--Edgar Wright, the director of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, is said to be ready to direct a film about the wee fellow--and of course, they're still in the Spider-Man business, with plans by Julie Taymor (Across the Universe) to launch a Spider-Man musical on Broadway. What may be most impressive is that they're in the Hulk business, too. Ang Lee's 2003 The Hulk movie was perhaps the highest-profile misstep of the new Marvel movie era, an ambitious, poker-faced effort that confused critics and disappointed audiences, though it did have the dignity of being a flop of the misguided-art-house variety instead of the underfunded direct-to-video sort. Now, just five years later, Marvel is going to reboot The Hulk with Ed Norton in the lead. The fact that Marvel is taking a second crack at the "property" so soon after the release of a film whose reception might have encouraged lesser mortals to sweep the Hulk under the rug for a generation or three shows an impressive degree of faith in their own product. Can another run at Howard the Duck be far behind? Has anybody run any tests to see how Hugh Jackman would look with an orange beak?