Category: Film & Television

  • Abe Lincoln Can Fight Vampires, But He’s Not Slaying the Box Office

    American President and noted stovepipe hat enthusiast Abraham Lincoln.

    Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter made $16.6 million over the weekend, placing third in the American box office behind Pixar’s latest offering, Brave, which made little over four times that amount. While some are decrying this as the death of the “vampire trend”, I see instead the death of another subgenre – the historical/horror mash-up.

    If Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter had been released two years ago it would have been much more successful. Indeed, it was two years ago that the book this film is based upon was released and became a New York Times best-seller, and the year before that was when Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, also by the same author, sold phenomenally well.

    But the problem with this genre is it’s distinctly one-note, and the failure of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter to make any headway in the box office is, to me, a sign that attempting to glue the historical and the supernatural in a tongue-in-cheek manner is no longer an immediate recipe for success.

    In many ways, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter is the subgenre’s Snakes on a Plane moment. You may recall the buzz surrounding Snakes on a Plane during production, a buzz that actually caused the filmmakers to go back and reshoot scenes to cater to the online “fanbase” the film had amassed before even so much as a trailer had been released. Once the film itself was released, however, nobody went to see it. Like ALVH, Snakes on a Plane made significantly less money in its opening weekend than analysts predicted, and suffered a more than 50% drop-off in profits the following week.

    Like Snakes on a Plane, ALVH is a simple idea – Abe Lincoln, hunting vampires. Once you tell someone the core premise (something the title of the film does rather well), they don’t need to see it. They know what snakes on a plane look like, they can imagine how Samuel L. Jackson would react, they laugh, then they get back to whatever it was they were doing before. Similarly they can imagine what Abe Lincoln taking down vampires would look like. Why, then, would they need to go see the movie? Knowing that the concept exists is more than enough.

    So where does that leave writers eager to ride the historical/supernatural mash-up wave? Well, for a start, I would suggest taking off the wetsuit and staying at home – I’m more or less convinced that the genre is DOA in film. I think if there’s one lesson to be learned from Abe Lincoln: Vampire Hunter‘s opening weekend, it’s that making another film that fits in this mold is probably not going to be the success you expect it to be.

    There is, of course, still life in this concept in print. Sense & Sensibility & Seamonsters was well-reviewed, and other such books such as Night of the Living Trekkies and Pride & Prejudice & Zombies: Dreadfully Ever After (which is exactly what you think it is) have all sold incredibly well and continue to do so. Quirk Books are continuing their “Quirk Classics” range with new titles including The Meowmorphosis, a fresh take on Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis” with the principal character transforming not into an insect but instead into, ahahaha, a kitten.

    Quirk can, and probably will, continue to knock out these mash-ups, but I think it’ll be a long time before we see another one make the jump to the silver screen.

  • Red Dwarf: Songs in the Key of Files

    I realised today that the Red Dwarf fan-comic that Kris Carter and I produced, “Songs in the Key of Files”, never really had a place to call home. I’ve alternated between linking to the DeviantArt gallery for the comic and the thread over on Ganymede & Titan where it was showcased, but I’ve decided it’s probably a good idea to have a local copy of the comic. I’ve also added it to my Resume, because I’m exceptionally proud of it.

    You can read “Songs in the Key of Files” here.

  • No More Two-Parters in Doctor Who? Why I Don’t Think We Can Take Moffat at His Word.

    WARNING: The following post contains spoilers for Doctor Who’s sixth series. You have been warned. I should also point out that, despite my employers’ connections with the BBC, I have zero foreknowledge of Series 7.

    Oh no! Doctor Who showrunner Steven Moffat rocked the very foundation of the show by announcing way back in December that there probably won’t be any two-part stories in Series 7. This seems rather silly on the surface considering Moffat’s dedication and utter love for the show, but especially considering how vocal he has been about preserving the atmosphere of the show – the very reason he’s touted for deciding to move the series premiere from the traditional March/April start to some time in the Autumn.

    Yet oddly, it’s that very reasoning that has me thinking that perhaps we can’t trust the words that tumbled from Moffat’s mouth last year, especially as he’s already proven himself to be an entirely untrustworthy showrunner. Moffat is very big on keeping secrets from the viewership, going so far as to intentionally mislead the public with announcements of stuff that definitely isn’t happening, which then goes on to happen.

    I find it difficult to believe that Moffat would make a statement that effectively brings an end to part of Doctor Who’s enduring appeal. Although the serialized nature of the show has been toned down since its revival in 2005 the cliffhangers have remained an important part of the show. It’s not without good reason that Russell T Davies opted to include three two-part stories each series, a template Moffat kept for the show’s fifth series. Why, then, would he turn around and decide to abandon such an integral part of the show for its 50th anniversary?

    Of course, looking at the second half of Series 6, it’s easy to see how he may approach the cliffhangers instead. “A Good Man Goes To War” and “Closing Time” are both great examples of stories that are ostensibly standalone, but that end with cliffhangers that either lead into or otherwise tease the next episode of the show. And what is the first fifteen minutes of “The Impossible Astronaut” if not a cliffhanger for the entire series?

    Nevertheless, these cliffhangers are much less overt than in previous stories. Most viewers had more or less figured out that the impossible astronaut was River Song, and so the ending of “Closing Time” lost most of its impact before broadcast.

    A good Doctor Who cliffhanger – a great Doctor Who cliffhanger, in fact – leaves the Doctor and/or his companions in a point of absolute peril, a dangerous scenario from which there appears to be no escape, perhaps best summed up by Moffat himself as “The monsters are coming.” In fact some of the show’s best cliffhangers since its return are Moffat’s own; “The Empty Child”, “Silence in the Library” and “The Pandorica Opens” are some of the most memorable and thrilling cliffhangers in the show’s history.

    Reaching back even further, classic fan favourites like “The Caves of Androzani” and “Genesis of the Daleks” are defined as much by their episode climaxes as they are by the narrative itself, especially in the former story where the show plays with the audience’s expectation that the then-current Doctor, Peter Davison, is to die and regenerate.

    Is Moffat really willing to discard such an important part of the show’s popularity? Or has Doctor Who outgrown the cliffhanger? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t bet money on our intrepid showrunner abandoning this staple just yet. Certainly not when there’s such a major anniversary on the horizon.

  • Mockumentality

    I’m having an increasingly difficult time accepting the mockumentary premise of shows like The Office and Parks and Recreation, especially now that they’ve been on the air for a long time.

    The problem is that these shows have increasingly become dram-coms (or “dramedies” if you hate yourself enough to use annoying portmanteaux), involving characters deceiving others, keepign secrets, harboring hidden feelings, that sort of thing. Which is fine, except the core conceit of the show actively prevents the deception and secrecy from working – namely, they’re being filmed for a television show which, if they don’t watch, their friends and family probably do.

    This was less of an issue with the British version of The Office because it ran for twelve episodes, then dealt with exactly this thing in the Christmas special finale. Meanwhile the American version is midway through its eighth season, and we’re expected to believe that over the course of the last right years exactly none of the characters have learnt about secretive goings-on or caught loving glances from characters harboring secret crushes.

    I love the mockumentary format, especially in both versions of The Office where the cameraperson almost becomes a character in their own right, but this failure to address a fundamental truth of the show’s universe makes it difficult for me to care about what’s going on in the show. By rights, they should know too, and if they know that what they’re doing may well be seen on national television, possibly by their friends, family or coworkers, they’d perhaps be a little less obvious about it.

  • Doctor, Doctor, Can’t You See I’m Burnin’, Burnin’

    There’s a moment in “Rose”, the very first episode of the revived Doctor Who, where the Ninth Doctor briefly addresses his appearance, like so:

    Common fan theory is that the Doctor arrived in London, picked out his new clothes, realized the Nestine Consciousness was present and up to the business of conquest, and so set to the task of stopping them. Most fans place conspiract theorist Clive’s pictures of the Doctor as occurring during the time between his leaving leaves without Rose and his return a few seconds later to inform her that the TARDIS “also travels in time”. I don’t.

    Why? Simple, really. The Ninth and Tenth Doctors experienced survivor’s guilt after being solely responsible for the destruction of the Time Lords, and I’m personally of the opinion that after the Doctor regenerated into his ninth incarnation he simply wasn’t capable of looking at himself in the mirror. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. He couldn’t look himself in the eyes and see what he’d done.

    But in the scene above, he doesn’t have a choice – the Tylers have a mirror in their front room, and the Doctor sees his own reflection for the first time in, potentially, years (although I’m inclined to say it’s only been a few months, but then this is all fanwank anyway so it’s more or less a non-isssue). Looking in the mirror, it turns out, is easier than he expected it to be.

    Or something. I don’t know. This just popped into my head and I felt like typing it out somewhere.

  • On death, television, and Ianto Jones

    SPOILER ALERT! This post contains spoilers for Buffy the Vampire Slayer season six, and spoilers throughout the entirety of Torchwood. (more…)

  • Alice in Wonderland is a Terrible Movie

    My sister has been visiting for the last two weeks. She arrived on the 3rd, and she left yesterday. It was fantastic to see her, but her visit was marred by one thing and one thing alone: A trip to the El Capitan theater in Hollywood to see Tim Burton’s latest film, Alice in Wonderland.

    I’ve always been fond of Lewis Carroll’s original novels. They’re delightfully nonsensical and full of a very specific sort of whimsy that is seldom seen in stories today. As a child Disney’s animated adaptation of the book (and, as is the case with all Disney animated films, I use the term “adaptation” incredibly loosely) was my favourite until Aladdin came out, but it still holds a special place in my heart.

    When I heard that Tim Burton had signed on to direct a live-action version of Alice in Wonderland, I was a little concerned. I had been disappointed with his adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory which was decidedly grim for my liking and focused much more on Willy Wonka than the book really ought to have done. I wasn’t impressed with Corpse Bride, which was structurally more cohesive than The Nightmare Before Christmas, but which had none of the spirit or soul – a horrible irony for a film in no small part about life after death.

    I also didn’t like Nightmare, but I could at least appreciate the animation. But then, Burton didn’t direct that one, did he?

    That said, I don’t hold to the common opinion shared by many of my friends that Batman Returns was his last truly great movie.  I loved Big Fish, a film I would quite happily place in my personal Top 50 Movies of All Time list. But then, Big Fish felt distinctly un-Burtonesque. Certainly it was bizarre, but it lacked most of the hallmarks that make a Tim Burton movie a Tim Burton movie.  I can’t help but feel that the film benefited from that, especially considering his current downward spiral. A spiral that started with the aforementioned Corpse Bride, continued into Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and has now come to rest in this latest offering.

    Tim Burton isn’t a Director anymore. At some point in the last decade he shed whatever interest he had in making genuinely engrossing movies and has since decided to base most of his creative decisions around whether or not the customers at Hot Topic will buy a handbag or a tee-shirt adorned with whatever crazy character he decides to fart out next. The world of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There are absolutely choc-a-bloc with characters for Burton to mine for merch, and mine he does.

    But before we get to the characters, let’s briefly go over the story. Alice is nineteen years old. She’s been asked for her hand in marriage by a horrible, terrible, snotty-nosed turd. Everybody expects her to say Yes, but she’s much more interested in doing her own thing. Instead of answering the question she buggers off, sees the White Rabbit, falls down the rabbit hole and arrives in Narnia Wonderland, where a sequence of events lead to her absolutely having to kill the Jabberwocky because a prophecy says she has to. Oh, and Wonderland is more or less in ruins due to an on-going war between the Red Queen and her benevolent but quirky sister, the White Queen.

    It’s a messy story. It’s messy because they’ve tried so very hard to bring cohesion to a world that simply cannot support it. Wonderland was never one place. It was never a world to be explored. It was a plane of existence filled with the nonsensical and the non-sequitur. You cannot travel from A to B in Wonderland because there’s no set path from one to the other. It is, quite simply, a dream. In dreams you’re falling through the sky, and then you land in a bath, and then suddenly you’re in a submarine, and from there you open a door to find you’re in a giant arcade talking to a pink Grandfather Clock about how to break into the stock room to steal some devilled eggs. And then you’re running but you can’t move and then for no reason whatsoever your mother is there trying to feed you treacle.

    It isn’t helped by the mixed messages they send in the movie. To start things off Alice is incredibly motivated to be her own person, to stand out from the crowd and do her own thing (and this unfortunately leads to some desperate shoehorning-in of references to the original books which feel painful and forced). But as soon as she arrives in Wonderland everybody is keen to tell her where to go and what to do, and although Alice expresses a distaste for it she ends up doing it anyway because, well, it’s expected of her.

    And the Mad Hatter has been fundamentally altered, too. Here he isn’t so much mad as he is scarred. He’s surprisingly lucid, terribly grim, and duller than dishwater. It is without a doubt the worst performance of Johnny Depp’s career, but to be fair to him he didn’t have much to work with. Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum have been changed from a couple of mischievous oddballs to a pair of bland twins who just happen to talk funny. In fact the only character I really enjoyed through the movie was the March Hare, who was genuinely bonkers in a way the Mad Hatter never was and who we unfortunately didn’t see often enough.

    From the moment Alice arrives in Wonderland the entire story seems to be gearing towards that epic battle between the Red Queen’s forces and the White Queen’s army, but it doesn’t feel like it progresses naturally. Things happen in the story not because they should, but because they need to in order to progress. Characters appear as and when needed, and then linger for much longer than necessary.

    Visually there’s a lot to look at, but it’s messy and inconsistent and it clashes. It doesn’t feel organic or natural at all, and the only time I felt any kind of life on the screen was, bizarrely enough, when plants grow around the outside of the frame containing the end credits.

    I went in when low expectations. I didn’t go in thing I’d hate it, and I didn’t go in thinking I’d like it, but I went in expecting to be disappointed. I certainly didn’t expect it to leave as bitter and rancid a taste in my mouth as it left. Tim Burton’s take on Alice in Wonderland is a thoroughly unpleasant affair; a turgid, soulless cinematic infection that exists purely as marketing for a new line of baubles and trinkets from your favourite “alternative” apparel store. The sort of person who says things like “You laugh because we’re different, we laugh because you’re all the same” without even a hint of irony will love this film, and will no doubt go out in droves to buy the tee-shirts, skirts, purses, handbags, wristbands, socks and bracelets so that they can all be Different together.

    People have gone to see this film in droves. Possibly they will continue to do so. Seven of us went to see it on Saturday and of the seven I was the only one who didn’t like it. It’s done quite well in the box office too, so Burton and Disney are likely laughing all the way to the First Bank of Wonderland by now. But it left a bitter taste in my mouth that refuses to go anywhere. I’ve never been so negatively polarized by a film in my entire life. It is without a doubt the single worst movie I have ever seen. It shits all over the memory of Lewis Carroll. It wipes its muddy, greasy boots all over his works.

    Tim Burton has openly admitted that he had no emotional connection to the original books. Well, why make a movie from them then? Why not find something you do connect to and adapt that instead of taking a beloved classic and raping it? Yes, I know that the cry of “rape!” is a common one when a Director takes something old and tries to do something new with it. It’s an overused word, and a word that really shouldn’t be used when talking about cinematic adaptations. But that is exactly what Tim Burton did. He took Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and he held it down and he had his way with it. Not because he wanted to make his mark upon it. Not because he wanted to do something unique with it. But because he could. Or, rather, because he knew he’d make a shitload of money in merchandising.

    Isn’t that just the saddest thing.

  • io9 post list of top 100 scifi shows, have big ugly face that’s as dumb as a butt

    io9, the scifi & fantasy blog owned by Gawker Media, have taken time from their busy schedule of Googling for pornographic Futurama fan-art to post a “Top 100 Science Fiction/Fantasy Shows Of All Time” list. I happen to side with Mil Millington on the subject of “lists as journalism” – namely, it’s bollocks – and their list is more reprehensible than comprehensive. Let’s take a look at some of the items on that list, shall we?

    (more…)