It's a bird! It's a planet! It's the millionth time you're going to see the same superhero movie in the summer!

by Yervand Kochar

The flood of superhero movies in the last several years has been so overwhelming that it makes the rest of the Hollywood landscape look like the streets of New Orleans after Katrina. The filmmakers who did not yet make a superhero movie seem like those people on the roofs of the flooded city waving at the helicopters.

‘Why didn’t we leave this damn town?’ they think. ‘We were warned’, they lament, ‘they told us that a hurricane of superhero movies was coming, but we never thought it could break the levees. Damn it, we can’t even blame Bush anymore? We should’ve at least gotten ourselves a boat by making some teenage pregnancy movies.’

The flood gets increasingly worse, though. Superman, Batman, Spiderman, IronMan, X-Man and, oops, Catwoman and what? Underdog…these bustards are everywhere and they keep coming… now even bums are superheroes- Hancock. Ogres are superheroes-Hulk. It is so bad that even the creatures of underworld are being enlisted into a superhero category and I don’t mean Al Gore. (Although even documentaries are about superheroes…what the hell you think Al Gore was doing in his documentary if not saving the world?) I mean another superhero- Hellboy. Now, this creep looks so evil that the logline feels compelled to explain ‘believe it or not he is a good guy.’
Hollywood is triumphant. It’s been a record profit year. Forget those people on the roofs; they should’ve not relied on the system so much. It’s Self-reliance, stupid. Remember? The record profits of Hollywood are like the salaries of CEO’s of Enron. A three to four movies make most of the profit and then… someone sends helicopters to those who still did not die, rape or kill each other in the flooded city.

As more superhero movies and their sequels, prequels and in betweens are coming like in a bad hurricane season even those who left the town worry about their safety. Even I am worried, and I am usually calm like the 9th Wave. But I do not intend to spend the rest of my life on the roof waiting for Hollywood aid; I am working on my own superhero screenplay.
It is about a superhero who saves movies from nerds who create comic book characters. He haunts and drugs them one by one from out of their mother’s basements and sends them to the same faraway planet where Tom Cruise is from so they never ever pitch their infantile crap to an imbecile producer anymore.

How much of this nonsense can the public take? In its dynamic, this superhero hysteria is reminiscent of the escapism and their outlet, the 30’s musicals… but only in its dynamic. Essentially, escapism was not a deception but a convention to ease the burden of everyday life. People who went to see the musicals were very much aware of their economic hardship; they just didn’t want to deal with it for a couple of hours.

Superhero movies are simply lies. They are not lies because they are fantasies and they take us into the imaginary worlds but precisely because they are not fantasies and products of imagination. Superhero movies are a guilt trip. Superhero movies are substitutes for the real story of real heroes that is not being told. And that real story is the story of the men and women of the US Military.

It is the greatest story that is not allowed to be told, the real superhero movie. After their country is attacked these ordinary people discover a power within to go and combat the evil order of powerful demons who spread fear and terror around the world. The world does not support these ordinary people; most of their countrymen do not support them out of the fear of demons. But these ordinary people succeed. Outnumbered, only 100 thousand in the country of 25 million, under excruciating heat and danger hidden behind every stone they continue to fight the evil as their own city now wants to abandon them and make pacts with Jokers, Octopuses and the armies of hell.

Superhero movies as a genre are fine. I am not waging war on the genre, after all remember that ‘nuclear weapons may only irritate Godzilla.' I am just stunned by their sheer quantity, frequency and, of course, stupidity.
In the world were real beheadings are being videographed and pitched to major networks, I guess, it is hard to find an appropriate form to express the gravity and seriousness of our struggle. Our instinct of self preservation wants a black and white image of good fighting evil but our rainbow cultural establishment will not allow making a movie about real issues. Pink is the new black.

We know we can’t escape, although the musical is surely coming back (only Mama Mia could compete with Batman at the box-office). We cannot escape but we still did not develop the guts to tell what is really going on. We are afraid to call the evil to account and we are afraid to call our own sons and daughters the real heroes. The only time they are shown in their real form is when they mess up, like in Abu Graib , or whatever that shit hole is called, or when we rush to condemn them, like in the movie ‘Redacted’ by De Palma or whatever that shit head is called.

Here is another superhero movie idea. This villain finds Brian De Palma and hangs him upside down by his feet from the Empire State Building. This evil supernatural villain says, 'De Palma, when you made a movie in which you condemned US soldiers of the atrocities committed in Hadita before the trial, did you realize, that your graphic, documentary-like depiction of the rape and murder of Iraqi civilians may interfere with justice and condemn presumably innocent American soldiers before the trial?' And then the villain says, “They were acquitted; it was a fabricated story by the anti-US Iraqis. Those soldiers didn’t do it, but what are you gonna do about your movie? Are you gonna burn it or should I kick your…’ As the villain is about to devour De Palma, our superhero rushes to his rescue to the United Nations Security Council to forge a multilateral support for the great director.

To conclude, superhero movies are fun. So the next time, when you spit in the face of an Iraqi war veteran during the San Francisco peace march and a pissed off worshiper of a Joker god sets a bomb off and/or tries to behead you, make sure to call Batman… if he is not busy beating up his mother and sister he will be there in no time to save the day.

IN A MOMENT

The Stranger

I am alone in my apartment. July 4, 2008. Awaiting the phone call that may occur, in a moment - this one or the next - telling me that my mother has passed away. A moment I have always known would one day appear in my life, is upon me. I’ve always, too, had the sense that the weight or size of this moment would be more than I could bear. And, to tell the truth - it is.

Were it not for something beyond the rather wan, and somewhat pathetic man that I, appear to myself to sometimes be - I wouldn’t be here at my computer attempting to put into words the most profoundly moving experience of my life.

My mother, the person who carried me for nine months, and through whom I came into the world - is leaving this experience we call life. And leaving me behind. There was a time I loved her and my father so, that I remember feeling “I hope I die before either mom or dad dies.” I didn’t do that before dad left. Won’t before my mother goes. I’ll still be here, and in a moment neither of my parents will be here with me ever again in this life. And what of it? And how is it that I am here alone attempting to make sense of something so much bigger than I?

I wish I had a perspective. But I don’t. I am a man. But I don’t quite feel like one in a moment like this. There is a part of me, I’m afraid, that has always remained or retained a kind of a quality somehow, someway connected to - childhood. I felt that quality threatened when dad died. But not overcome, because my mother had NOT. But in a moment, I won’t ever again be able to depend on either of them to retain this connection to that magic land. If I am to have it from here on it’ll have to come elsewhere. A place I never thought of looking for it before is - inside myself!

Why am I writing this? And to whom? I’ve no answer. I’m …. in darkness. Not only outside, but especially, within. With only the vaguest sense that a lot may be at stake in terms of how I respond to this moment. Again, something inside feels threatened. Something that, if lost or severed from my being, may, indeed will, alter me for the rest of my life in a way I’d prefer not to live. I referred earlier to a sense of “something beyond.” What is it? Again, no answer. But, something IS helping me …. almost bearing me up in the face of the weight of this moment.

I’m reminded of a quote by philosopher, Baudelaire: “Genius is the recovery of childhood at will.” I think if Steven Spielberg had never made another movie other than E.T., I would always think of him as a genius. To me, that film is one of the greatest examples of an adult in full possession of that part of himself that is CHILDHOOD. I don’t know if he had to recover it or not, but he had it then. Had to - or he couldn’t have given birth to that film. Because, everything in it speaks to the eternal childhood in each of us, and it’s a work of genius because it ALWAYS will.

There is a moment in the film when a group of kids on bicycles who are attempting to remove E.T. from harm’s way, are faced with an insurmountable obstacle. They are racing through a forest on their bicycles, and at the very last second when it appears they will be apprehended …. slowly they begin…. on their bicycles and cradling E.T. on one of them …. TO RAISE UP AND INTO THE SKY AND BECOME AIRBORN!!

One of the most exhilarating and exalted moments ever to grace the screen. And you don’t have to be a particular age, race, or gender, or have a particular life experience to become airborn with them. All you have to do is to be there, wherever you are - watching that film. And suddenly, you are not in your seat any longer - YOU ARE UP THERE IN THE SKY, TOO - ONE OF THEM!! I don’t know if Mr. Spielberg is still in possession of that magic quality. Saw THE COLOR PURPLE, saw SCHINDLER’S LIST. He’ll never make a bad film. But they are not E.T. And, to be honest about it, there isn’t one of his films that I’ve seen since E.T. that has touched my heart the way that film did.

So what, and what of it? I’m lost and its the only thing I know for sure. In danger of losing something. Not even sure what it is. But why am I thinking of E.T.? And …. CHILDHOOD? All that’s coming to me in this moment is to …. pray. First and foremost and lastly - for my mother. And then - for just the slightest sliver of light to enter the darkness. Maybe it can help me know what to do about something she said to me in our conversation, the very last day she had the strength enough to speak to me and she said …. “Don’t give up.”

The sound of firecrackers being set off in the neighborhood for the last hour or so has stopped. In their place, the sound of my A/C ….. and underneath that sound …. an awesome …. SILENCE …. awaiting now ….

Only the sound of a telephone, that will surely ring ….

IN A MOMENT.

P.S.

From here on, perhaps …. the stars overhead in the sky are to become my shelter …. the sun and the moon my parents …. life itself …. my family…. and you …. my brothers and sisters ….

P.P.S.

Watching my fingertips …. inching along the tops of books …. in a small cherry wood bookcase, a gift from mom, that I keep in my bedroom. Not sure what they’re looking for. They come to rest on one …. I can feel what it is before I see the title …. sense the paragraph before I see it on the page with my eyes:

“Childhood is not a thing which dies within us and dries
up as soon as it has completed its cycle. It is not a memory.
It is the most living of treasures, and it continues to enrich us
without our knowing it … Woe to the man who cannot
remember his childhood, recapture it within himself, like a
body inside his own body, a new blood in the old blood:
he is dead as soon as it leaves him.”
The Poetics of Reverie

There it is - the sliver of light ….

DIRTY OLD ICONS (OR NOT)

The Stranger

Sometimes I wonder about Clint Eastwood. The same sort of thing I used to wonder about Woody Allen. Whether, or not, each of them hasn’t perhaps used their cache as filmmakers … to troll - for babes. And, more to the point - are they both still? Yah, sure they’re both directors. And directors need actresses for their films. They both also are and have been before they became directors - actors. With reputations for liking the ladies.

Used to notice how often Woody seemed to surround himself, when he was directing one of his movies, and / or starring in it as well, with this or that current cute young thing of the moment (at the present time, think Scarlett Johansson). In MANHATTAN, for instance, it was Mariel Hemingway who he was quoted as announcing to the world in a newspaper article as “the most beautiful girl the world has yet seen.” I also remember him writing a line for himself to say in the film to her character: “Get that filthy look off your face.” Which had to do with the way she had looked at him in a moment of the film. Indicating that when she saw Woody she was completely overpowered by lust - FOR WOODY! My response to that moment was “Yah, right! In your dreams, Woodman!” But when you are the producer, writer, star and director - and you’re loved by the critics, you can manipulate moments like that and get away with the façade that its true. Even if you look like Woody Allen. And if you don’t look like Woody Allen, but you look like Warren Beatty instead, and you are the producer, writer, and star of a movie called SHAMPOO at a pivotal moment in the film you can have an academy award winning actress like Julie Christie say the line to you around a dinner table filled with people “I want to suck your cock!”


Kinda wondered about MILLION DOLLAR BABY - whether something may have been up or not between Clint and Hilary Swank. Remembered how when she won the Academy Award for BOYS DON’T CRY, in her acceptance speech, she thanked everyone she could possibly think of - and totally forgot to mention her husband(Chad Lowe). I remember thinking “How long will these two last?” And the answer apparently turned out to be - as long as it took Clint to come riding in on his charger, and to direct her( and whatever else) to another Academy Award.

It was shortly after that, that she and her husband divorced. The husband is also an actor, and kind of a laid back type. Sort of like, Brad Pitt. Whose main squeeze, St. Angelina, is starring in a film that has recently been produced and directed by guess who? Clint Eastwood.

I guess Ms. Lips Galore is ok as an actor. But, let’s face it she’s a star because of what she looks like. Like Brad Pitt.

I suppose Clint Eastwood may have some sense of whether or not an actor possesses a measure of talent. I’m not a hundred percent sure of that, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. What I am very sure about is that he does (still) have an eye for the ladies, and what a great way for him to co-mingle with whomever suits his fancy by offering them a role in one of his films. Also, what a great way to do whatever the hell he pleases, in front of the world so to speak - and get away with it any damn time he feels like it.

I remember hearing of endless so-called casting sessions being conducted by Warren Beatty for projects that never materialized. Who was always on the lookout for the next cute thing. In fact, I remember reading an interview on Woody Allen in which he was quoted as saying that if there was such a thing as reincarnation he hoped he would be coming back as “Warren Beatty’s fingertips.” A reference not to Mr. Beatty’s skills as a filmmaker, but rather to his success - trolling for babes. In fact, when Mr. Beatty co-opted Mr. Allen’s leading lady, Diane Keaton right from under Mr. Allen’s nose and put her into his personal life and his own films (REDS), he then had to suffer Mr. Allen’s wrath in the form of the movie Woody made about Mr. Beatty called “Zelig.” ( 1983: A “Documentary about a man who can look and act like whoever he’s around, and meets various, famous people.”)

WHEW! To make a film that is a thinly disguised put-down of a guy who steals your girlfriend in real life. How trite can you get? And the really interesting thing was how all the critics that praised the film were completely unaware of why it was made in the first place, and what it was really about - which was ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! But a primadonna’s bruised ego. People like these icons, or as they’re called today, legends - do get older, but the game they play remains the same: trolling for babes.

WOW! To have all that power, all that position and influence - and to use it simply to get laid. Makes me wonder like I said at the very beginning - what else could it be used for???? Unless, of course you’re not doing whatever it is you’re doing to get laid, and instead are using your position to make a difference - to serve, to inspire, to elevate - to enlighten. And, I guess the only one to whom it matters, is you and I, the viewer, who pays for his or her ticket, and sits in a darkened theatre - and looks up at that screen. On some level we, you and I are the only ones who KNOW whether, or not, up there on that screen there is or is not - SUBSTANCE.

Seen any GOOD films, lately???