Things You Should Know About, Volume 17: Balling the Queen

Here's the Deal:

Insects are freaky. From the Hulk-like strength of ants to the bloodsucking antics of mosquitoes to the bondage-devouring propensity of spiders, bugs are fucking weird and off-putting. I mean, imagine if any of those above traits were applied to large land animals. It would be terrifying. Like, if we had bloodsucking elephants and gorillas that could lift city bridges... actually, I wouldn't mind seeing that, as long as they were properly controlled. Come on genetic engineering, give me some spider-giraffes!

Annnnnyway, the point is that bugs do some odd things, even within that wild kingdom known as nature, and quite often bees come in amongst the oddest of the odd. Now, most people know a fair amount about bee activity. From their hivemind to their comb-building to their royal jelly Jacuzzis, bees display some fascinating behavioral traits. They have a class-based society. They die after stinging an enemy (possibly the most ridiculous evolutionary leap ever). And most importantly, they produce a substance that tastes great on Bob Evans biscuits.

They also like Balling the Queen.

Now, before you Sex Pistols fans get your grungy panties in a bunch, I am not talking about a lost acoustic ballad by Sid Vicious. Balling the Queen is much more entertaining than that. What happens is, when a queen bee is determined to be too old or sickly by the hive, a replacement is created with the use of royal jelly. As the new virgin queen becomes ready to ascend to the beeswax throne, the other hive members surround the reigning queen and form a ball around her. This ball of bees effectively smothers the queen by causing her to overheat from the mass of bee body heat. At this point I assume they turn her carcass into a stew, or some other such barbaric act. The virgin queen then celebrates by going out for a night on the town and getting pumped by numerous drones. Taking the title of Queen Beatrix IV, she begins her rightful reign as the dominant royal bee and the whole process starts anew. Oh, the circle of life!

Apparently, balling is not limited to just the queen, however. Queen bees from other hives who enter a new hive in an attempt to overthrow it--Seriously. I really wonder if they have bee armadas and bee secret service, too--as well as predatory wasps, are in danger of being Randle P. McMurphyed by any number of busy little bees.

But seriously, I hope they incorporate this aspect into the next Alien movie.

Check This Shit Out.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Queen_bee

Grade "A" Beefs with Sacred Cows: Scooby-Doo

Fuck Scooby-Doo.

Nobody expects Saturday Morning Cartoons to hold James Joyce levels of complexity. Once the heyday of Warner Brother's Looney Tunes ended, cartoons began to suck mighty hard. Production values went from reasonable film budgets to paltry TV budgets, animation got shipped overseas (often producing knee-jerk, humdrum styles instead of carefully rendered ones by the likes of Chuck Jones), and story lines became, well, cartoonish. And not in a good way. There are many sins committed by post-50's to modern cartoon makers, as well as many places to lay the blame. But Goddammit, Scooby-Doo is the lynch pin of animated garbage.

I used to like Scooby-Doo. I really did. When I was a kid, I watched it regularly the same as anyone else. The thing is though, that while I actually enjoyed Looney Tunes and DuckTales and Batman: The Animated Series, Scooby-Doo was watched out of habit. It was watched because it was "on." Looking back, I can see the quality that resonated with me in those other shows, even though I couldn't articulate it at the time. Looney Tunes is inspired artistry and insanity. DuckTales is a rip-rollicking adventure. Batman: The Animated Series is superbly drawn with challenging story lines. But Scooby-Doo, for all its pop culture cred and lunchbox marketing, at the end of the day, simply blows. Some small part of my ten year old self knew that.

First off, the animation is terrible. While I would argue that the animation is not as bad as some cartoons of its era, like say, Mr. Magoo, Scooby-Doo really brings nothing to the table. Sure, Scooby himself is a recognizable character, as is Shaggy--I recall Matt Groening once saying that all good cartoon characters should be recognizable in silhouette, and Scooby and Shaggy fit that bill--but the rest of the gang, the villains of the week and the backgrounds are all clearly churned out necessities, not pieces of art. That is the core problem with Scooby-Doo: It lacks any artistic vision.

Now to the gang itself. Daphne, Fred and Velma really don't do anything. Sure, they "solve" the mystery each week--though that's more Fred and Velma, Daphne's just along for the ride--but again, this is mere necessity. They're walking plot points. They serve to support the antics of one Norville "Shaggy" Rogers and his good pal Scoob. So if this is the case, one would think that Shaggy and Scooby must be a laugh riot, right? Welllllll... I would say no. They aren't particularly interesting or funny characters. They're court jesters. They run around, fall down, get scared and eat. They are very similar to Abbott and Costello in this regard. Bugs Bunny has character. Daffy Duck has character. Shaggy and Scooby have a TV show.

But hey, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe what keeps the public happy are the mysteries. Yes, the mysteries. Tired, contrived devices that week-in, week-out never fail to produce asinine plans by the same usual suspects of amusement park operators and real estate agents. Everyone knows the formula: The gang investigates a Yeti/ghost/totem pole/vampire/Cthulhu that is wreaking havoc upon a small town/logging business/marsh/campground and eventually discover that the monster in question is no monster at all--at least, not a mythical one. In fact, the monster is MAN!--some money-hungry, cigar-chomping side character that was introduced around six minutes into the episode. I'm all for rooting for the little guy, but Scooby-Doo's heavy-handed anti-capitalistic stance, whether it springs from a genuine place or not, is simply bad storytelling. In fact, I would actually be fine with this device if the audience was given a fair shake. Let's say, instead of EVERY episode revealing the monster to be a dude in a mask, (because really, how many evil land developers can come up with that same brilliant scheme) Scooby-Doo left the possibility for the monster to be a fucking MONSTER. What if every episode was a toss-up, where sometimes it's a dude, and sometimes it's just a fucking werewolf. Perhaps this breaks the vivid and continuous dream that Scooby-Doo's team of Alan Smithees so carefully wished to create, but at least then there would be some sort of payoff in watching through to the ending.

Obviously being formulaic is not something that is limited to Scooby-Doo. Gilligan's Island springs to mind as another asinine show that always results in the same conclusion: They don't get off the island. But at least with that show, new things would happen to the cast--whether it be a hot air balloon mishap or the Harlem Globetrotters--that kept the show watchable in the loosest sense of the word. Scooby-Doo just keeps making the same episode again and again--not to mention all the clones it produced, like Josie and the Pussycats and Jabberjaw--'cause a buncha kids driving around in a van solving mysteries, whether they have cat ears or can somehow breathe underwater, is apprently just what the public wants.

Hanna and Barbera were hacks. They were two old codgers that hid behind the masks of animated characters and tried to swindle the public with flashy baubles and zany hijinks. Their legacy is still going strong, and we can't allow their watered-down product to fill the airwaves any longer. We must unmask them for what they are. All us meddling kids must do our part.

Animation Fans of the World Unite!

Grade "A" Beefs With Sacred Cows: Special "You're So Vain" Edition!

Fuck "You're So Vain." Fuck, fuck, fuck "You're So Vain." Fuck it!

I am a musical gent. I have it in my power to like nearly any style of music. My iTunes contains everything from the Beatles to Joe El-Sonnier to Rondellus to Da Costa Waltz & the Southern Broadcasters. In short, lotsa tunes, some 'standard,' some batshit crazy. I dig me some indie, bluegrass, pop, jazz, easy listening, (real) country, classical, soundtrack, blues, punk, reggae, rock, metal, hip-hop, (some) rap, disco, R&B, soul, funk, folk, surf, world, dance & novelty. But I fucking HAAAAAATE "You're So Vain."

The thing is, this may actually be the only song I truly hate. Oh sure, there are plenty of songs I don't like, and oodles more that I am completely indifferent to. Some of these are classics like "The Long and Winding Road" (I find it kinda humdrum and boring as far as the Beatles go) and "You Can't Always Get What You Want" (I am amazed and appalled that there are people on this planet who would put this song anywhere near, let alone above, "Paint it, Black," "Jumpin' Jack Flash," or "Gimme Shelter"), but for cases like these I mostly feel like there is either something I "don't get" or I end up just shrugging off the song in question. Even bad songs like "Bye, Bye, Bye" or "I Will Always Love You" I am able to enjoy ironically. I can sing along to these tossed-off pop hits in spite of myself and not feel totally dirty. But "You're So Vain" demands my hatred. It asks for it. If "You're So Vain" and I were in a marriage in the 50's, it would have overcooked my breakfast sausage and shrunk my favorite trousers before the big meeting and thus would have had this beating coming. "You're So Vain" makes me take off my belt.

There are several reasons for my intense (and to outsiders, more than likely horrific) hatred for this song. One reason is Carly Simon's voice. I can usually accept unique and offbeat vocals in my music, but her voice is a maelstrom of whiny and grating noises. It's never worse than on the chorus itself when she hits "vaaaaaaaiiiiiiinnnnn" and sounds like a bobcat put through a combine. Her voice in this song is my ultimate 'fingernails on a chalkboard.' The next reason would be the music of the song itself. It's sickeningly catchy, and yet, isn't a "fun" song. I can handle the fact that "Walking on Sunshine" gets by on just being one big wad of bubblegum, but "You're So Vain's" subject doesn't quite fit with the method of telling. Some would say that this makes the song GENIUS, but I just say that it's odd and clunky and at the end of the day, annoying.

And now we move onto the subject matter itself: I cannot stand the "mystery" of the song. For one thing, as far back as the 80's Simon more or less said that the person that was 'so vain' was Warren Beatty. True, she has never explicitly said it for sure, merely danced around it, but I'd say it's at a good 90% certainty. But more importantly is this: WHO GIVES A FUCK? I mean really, the whole "Is it James Taylor? Is it Mick Jagger?" bullshit is the stuff of tabloid headlines. "Layla" isn't famous for being about Pattie Boyd--that's just music geek trivia--it's famous for being a fucking monster of a song. "You're So Vain" isn't particularly deep, it doesn't contain any insights or memorable lines, it's just like Paris Hilton--it's famous for being famous. So basically, I cannot stand that Carly Simon created this "mystery" in a sub par pop song and coasted into fame and fortune all due to some smoke and mirrors. Just look at the rest of her career--it's a joke. The woman has "Mockingbird" and "Nobody Does it Better" as her other major hits. When your two best songs are either a) better when they are poorly covered in Dumb & Dumber and b) a James Bond theme song, I think you deserve to be in the 9th circle of the Wal-Mart bargain bin.

"You're So Vain" haunts me and will continue to haunt me for the rest of my days. Every Memorial Day classic rock countdown and every karaoke night is almost certain to contain it on the playlist. But finally, at long last, I have spoken my piece against all that is unjust and unholy about this third trimester abortion of a song. In closing, I say this to you, Miss Simon: You're so vain. And I mean that in the following senses:

Main Entry: Vain
Pronunciation: \ˈvān\
Function: adjective

1: having no real value : idle , worthless <vain pretensions>

2: marked by futility or ineffectualness : unsuccessful , useless <vain efforts to escape>

3: archaic : foolish , silly

Grade "A" Beefs With Sacred Cows: Tintin

Fuck Tintin.

Ever since the Steven Spielberg/Peter Jackson Adventures of Tintin trilogy was announced, I have read nothing but love for the namesake ducktailed youth. For those of you who don't know, which is pretty much everyone in North America, Tintin is a long-running comic series about a friendless, sexless, characterless boy reporter, who never appears to do any reporting and really loves colonialism. The series, created by Belgian cartoonist Hergé, ran from 1929 to 1983 and is apparently adored the world over.

Why is that, exactly?

As a kid, I remember seeing the HBO cartoon The Adventures of Tintin on TV and being wholly indifferent. Keep in mind, that this me was the same fresh-faced youth who watched hours upon hours of The World of David the Gnome--I don't believe he was too discerning. But even at that young age, I couldn't for the life of me see what was appealing in that show, and now, looking at the comics that spawned it, I feel the same way.

What is the big fucking deal? I am baffled. In the comic, the main character runs from adventure to adventure in various countries, so I suppose some sort of globetrotting appeal could be argued, but Tintin is no Indiana Jones or James Bond--he's not cool, badass, suave, etc., and more importantly, he basically gets out of any problem he's in within two to three panels. There is no real suspense and thus no payoff. The comic isn't funny, either. It's best described as what a friend of mine once called certain 80's movies: A Comedy That's Not a Comedy. It's lighthearted, sure, but there's no real humor to be found. And then there's the matter of the artwork: It's ok, I suppose. It fulfills its function. But when you compare Tintin to the work of Will Eisner or Windsor McCay--contemporaries of Hergé--it's somewhat appalling that Tintin is lavished with such praise when the work is so humdrum in relation to those two masters.

Because of the upcoming film, I thought I would give Tintin a shot. I downloaded the complete series and tried to read it. I got five books in before I decided to quit. Normally I am one who sees things through to the bitter end, but I saw nothing rewarding about this comic and thus, called it a day. The early issues are especially shitty, for not only are they blasé, but they are fraught with paternalistic racism, the aforementioned old world colonialism and flat out and perplexing animal cruelty--For example, in one comic, Tintin decides he wants to kill a rhino. Being unable to simply shoot it due to its thick hide, Tintin BORES A HOLE into the rhino's BACK and plants fuckin' DYNAMITE there. The rhino explodes. No irony or subversion is intended, we've just got a hero who is a sociopath.

If anyone can enlighten me as to the value of this comic, go for it. I am willing to be convinced. But at the moment, anything short of a dissertation revealing Watchmen-like layers of complexity would leave me with the same feeling I have at present. Tintin is comics' "Emperor's New Clothes."

Watchmen

*Spoilers for both the comic and film adaptation lie ahead*

Following my viewing of Watchmen last night, the thought that crept into my head the most was that I miss Stanley Kubrick. Watchmen, the comic, presented a world that was cold, haunting, and morally-ambiguous--all elements that were favorite subjects for Kubrick. I have no idea if Stanley Kubrick was aware of the comic, nor if he would have been interested in making a film from it, but my instincts tell me that he at least would have found the material fascinating. Had a film been made, I am confident that Stanley Kubrick's Watchmen would have stood more than a chance at capturing the poignance and horror that Watchmen contains. Zack Snyder's Watchmen, sadly, captures very little.

It's not that the film is unwatchable. Snyder does manage to conjure up certain scenes and characters that feel true to the source material and pack the expected punch. Rorschach's prison sequences, for instance, puts the audience right inside those moments. For that matter, Rorschach in general is excellent. Jackie Earle Haley embodies Rorschach, from the voice to the tone to the character movements. Billy Crudup is also fine as Dr. Manhattan, his soft voice serving as a nice counterbalance to Manhattan's God-like power. I had always imagined a deeper voice for Manhattan, but this choice won me over. Patrick Wilson also does some fine work as Nite Owl, although, in the end, his efforts are essentially lost in a mess of spectacle. Other portions that succeed? Jeffrey Dean Morgan as the Comedian works about half the time, and in a better film, would have worked more. The effects, for the most part, do a good job of translating the comic to the screen, from the "bleeding" effect on Rorschach's mask to the CGI Manhattan to Bubastis. Sure, there's some CGI-wonkiness going on at times, but on the whole, the effects shine through as high points in the film.

So that's the good stuff. This film is almost 3 hours long. What of the rest? Malin Akerman as the Silk Spectre is terrible. The character was always the weak link in Watchmen (Moore has basically admitted this in the past), but here she is just awful. Her mother, played by Carla Gugino is worse. There is not a shred of depth to these characters. Matthew Goode as Ozymandias? Flat as hell. He hits the right beats, sure, but this is not a man who has enough screen presence to be a James Bond villain, let alone the orchestrator of the events in Watchmen. The actor who plays Nixon and the other supporting characters? Mostly humdrum. Matt Frewer does a surprisingly good job as Moloch, but the rest of the side characters feel like they are going through the motions.

In fact, almost the entire film is an exercise in going through the motions. I see two ways of explaining this. The first is this: Imagine a play by, let's say, Shakespeare. How about Hamlet? Going into Hamlet, you know the story, you know the weight, you know what it can be when done properly. Now imagine seeing Hamlet and instead of watching Kenneth Branaugh and Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan, etc., you get the understudies. That's what Watchmen feels like. Despite the performances of Haley, Crudup and Wilson, everyone else seems like they're filling a part for one night only. And with such sub par performances filling up screentime, the real efforts by the other, much better actors are significantly damaged.

The other way to explain why this film is going through the motions is this: Imagine someone telling you a story. Let's stick to Hamlet. They tell you that Hamlet's father is killed, that Hamlet returns to his homeland, that Claudius ascends the throne, that Hamlet plots his revenge, etc. You would get an idea of what the story is, sure. But would you get any of the emotional pull or the pathos just from hearing a play-by-play? Of course not. And Watchmen, while "faithful" to the comic in the sense that all the "right" scenes are there, contains next to nothing to hold up those scenes and give the film any weight. It's as though Snyder is telling us the story of Watchmen, but has next to no idea how to convey what the story means. I know that people will fall in love with this adaptation and say "It's so true to the comic--they did such a great job." The problem with this idea is that it implies that the only important components of Watchmen lay in its comic-bookiness. The entire purpose of Watchmen is to be more nuanced, brooding and deep than average comic book fare. I understand that the constraints of a 3 hour film involve the cutting of material, but emotion should not have been on the chopping block at any point in the editing process.

Essentially, everything felt rushed. Snyder tried to shove as much in as he could, and either focused on the wrong elements, or the limits of a 3 hour film mean Watchmen could never truly be adapted. I am confident Syder was dedicated and tried as hard as he could to pull this off. But I was never convinced that this man should have been at the helm for the film, and after seeing the finished product, I can simply say, "Trying does not equal succeeding."

There are many other issues--like the added violence (which seems to counter almost everything being said in the comic), the elongated sex scene, the "humor" (Watchmen isn't funny, it's deathly serious--the only "humor" should be uncomfortable, not gut-busting), the occasionally awkward soundtrack, the effect removing the squid has upon the narrative, etc. But those are mostly smaller issues in comparrison to the larger flaws of the film that aren't worth developing. At its core, Watchmen is hollow. It contains less emotion than Dr. Manhattan himself. It favors the "cool shit" over the substantial, challenging concepts of the comic.

Zack Snyder broke from Rorschach's solemn oath. He compromised.

Grade "A" Beefs With Sacred Cows: Abbott & Costello

Fuck Abbott & Costello.

If you're a fan of comedy, from its "earliest" days in Vaudeville to its current incarnations, there are some comedians you are just expected to respect and/or enjoy. Some examples from the silent era and early talkies are Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton, The Marx Brothers, and, *shudder,* Abbott & Costello. The thing is though, that when these two court jesters are put side by side with the other names mentioned above I am instantly transported to that great American standard: "One of These Things is Not Like the Other One, One of These Things Just Doesn't Belong." Abbott & Costello blow.

Now, I know what you're going to say: "'Who's on First' is genius!" Yes, it is. "Who's on First" contains clever lines, great wordplay and a memorable situation--all things that are vital to an iconic comedic bit. But how these two hapless no-trick ponies ever stumbled into that comedic masterpiece and carved a niche for themselves in the pantheon of Funnydom is beyond me, because that is all they've got.

I have, to date, watched three of their films: Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein, Abbott & Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde and Abbott & Costello Meet the Keystone Cops. Of these, Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein is hailed as a comedy classic, while the other two are seen as run-of-the-mill Abbott & Costello fare, I believe.

These films are a black hole of comedy. They lack the tight construction and execution of "Who's on First"and lack anything else that could be viewed as remotely funny. Consider the comedians above. Charlie Chaplin created carefully rendered scripts containing elongated sequences of whimsy and absurdity. Buster Keaton constantly put life and limb in harm's way and arguably did more for physical comedy than any single person before or since. The Marx Brothers, meanwhile, had the triple team effect--Groucho had the lines, Chico the wordplay, and Harpo the wild card. And what did Abbott & Costello have? Abbott hit Costello over the head with a hat quite a bit.

Yes, the biggest source for "laughs" in these films is in their piss-poor excuses for physical humor, which are nothing short of insults to the work of Chaplin, Keaton and Harold Lloyd. These include: Falling down, running into doors, running away in terror, running away in fright, running away in fear, running away in horror and then hitting a door and then falling down, and lastly, long, awkward Costello masturbation sequences.

I know people just assume Abbott & Costello are funny because they are well-known. Even those who watch them now and don't like them more than likely think "Well, I just don't get it." But trust me, these guys were the Wayans Brothers of the 40's and 50's--popular beyond all reason, and lacking in any shred of talent.

Reportedly, Lou Costello's last words were "That was the best ice-cream soda I ever tasted," before keeling over in front of said ice-cream soda. I can only hope that lurking in the shadows was Charlie Chaplin, twirling his tiny mustache and slipping a bottle of rat poison back into his pocket.

Things You Should Know About, Volume 16: Giraffes on Horseback Salad

Here's the Deal:

The Marx Brothers were nuts. Salvador Dalí was insane. Thus, if we follow the if/then rationale of high school geometry we can conclude that if the Marx Brothers were nuts, and if Salvador Dalí was insane, then a pairing of these two forces would create a perfect storm of batshit crazy.

Giraffes on Horseback Salad, or The Surrealist Woman, was an attempt to create just that.

The prospective film, which never got beyond the scripting/planning stages, would have been a joint effort by the comedians and the artist. Dalí, a fan of the brothers, wrote a surrealistic script for the team and presented it to them in 1937. Reasons for the film remaining in the seventh circle of Development Hell vary, but it's possible that MGM, the brothers' employer, felt the project was "too surreal," i.e. unmarketable, or simply that Groucho Marx found the film unfunny.

Believed to be lost, the script was eventually found amongst Dalí's personal papers in the nineties, but has not been released publicly. There is, however, an article from Harper's Magazine that details the (fittingly bizarre) plot points of the film.

More than likely, this would have been terrible. Salvador Dalí was a master at his craft, but does that mean he could write a script or construct a joke? Probably not. His most famous foray into cinema, Un Chien Andalou, is hardly what one would call coherent or a laugh riot. However, there remains a slim chance that this collaboration could have produced a wild and inventive film, and I need to get in contact with Quinn Mallory so that we can slide into the parallel dimension where this exists.

But seriously, one morning I shot Salvador Dalí in my pajamas--how he got in my pajamas is a matter for the courts.

Check This Shit Out.

http://www.miskatonic.org/dali-marx.html