James Vicari.com

But let’s ignore the whole idea of reviewer or critic for a moment and focus on another problem with the way criticism works in comics and video games.

Both mediums have spent years fostering a culture of fanboys. The Merry Marvel Marching Society. The Nintendo Fan Club. All parts of the same coin. Now, there’s nothing wrong with fandom and fan clubs. Each of us have something that we clearly love and enjoy and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s how it’s always been since entertainment and art were created.

But outside of a few examples (like Star Wars) there is very little comparable to the type of fanboyism that exists with video games and comic books. And that culture has created a very large and realistic barrier to critics.

For some, the fandom is defined by the character. Big picture wise, this tends to create more overly critical and blinded fans. As a personal example, I’m a big fan of Spider-Man. This may cause me to be more overly critical to weaker writing. I like the character. I have set expectations.

In some cases, this can also have a reverse effect in which lesser works are elevated by the fan-turned critic because “oh my god!! Beta Ray Bill was in that story!” (Confession: I’m also more than likely guilty of this.)

The bigger impact, though, and bringing it back to what Bendis talked about in his original posts, are the fandom’s centered around creators (in comics) or nostalgia (in video games). Now for clarification purposes, nostalgia in comics and in video games tend to work in two different ways. In video games, you just have to be Nintendo and show up with a new game starring a nearly thirty year old icon to get people to ignore any actual issues with the game. It’s like this not just for Nintendo, but across the whole industry. The older properties get more slack than newer properties because of the existing emotional connection to the property. I mean, we grew up with that stuff! The caveat to this seems to be Madden and any current series who has been run into the ground via severe exploitation.

And while property nostalgia is a huge part of the modern comic industry, it’s not so much a part of criticism as it is a part of sales.

But what the modern comic industry does have are creator fandom problems. In general, there is nothing wrong with fans of certain creators. Again, confessionally, I have plenty of creators I’m a fan of. But in the small, close community of comics, you have certain fandoms who have erected walls that squash any criticism. Trying to tell comic fans — even if you do it with well thought out and articulated speech — that you don’t like something like Watchmen quickly goes nowhere. Insults and derision will become the norm. The same applies to something like the works of Grant Morrison, where many of his fans will deride others who don’t like it. And that’s not a knock against either creator. It’s just the nature of the beast.

Now I admit to generalizing here. And I fully acknowledge it’s the same in every medium. But remember the critical core — other mediums have places for the discussion to happen. There are places where Kubrick’s The Shinning can be dissected and the pro’s and con’s of the work to be evaluated. The comic industry does not have as much of this (not even in a proportional comparison).

And realistically, if you want long form evaluation and understanding and criticism and analysis of comics or video games or what have you, then you need the good and the bad. You need to be honest about the work. A reviewer and a fan can blind with praise, but a critic must work past that and break the work down. And even if the work is broken down all the way — and the praise is still there (after all, criticism doesn’t have to be negative, just thorough) — then so be it. Then you have a classic. Then you’ve found your Hamlet.

I believe Bendis when he says he wants long form critical analysis of people’s work he admires. I think many people want the same thing. But these mediums need more than just the existence of said work. They need the people who have been doing the real criticism to keep doing the criticism. They need more people willing to stand up and write it and develop it.

But more importantly, they need an audience willing to read it. An audience that pushes beyond the fandoms and helps push the dialogue forward. It’s not just where have the critics gone, but when is the audience going to get here?

(Note: I’ve decided instead of just one, long rambling blog post to break this up into smaller, rambling posts.)

Recently comic writer Brian Michael Bendis commented through twitter and his message board on the lack of true criticism in the comic medium.

comics as an art form is in fantastic shape. the only things missing? thoughtful longform investigative journalism and critique. all we get nowadays are knee-jerk reviews and cut and paste blogging. which I have no problem with but it’s ALL we get.

and

all I said was that I would like to read longform analysis of work by people that I think are doing wonderful work. the thing that was in my head, if you need an example, is Ed Brubaker’s Capt. America run which I believe is a historic on the level of Frank Miller’s daredevil.

Now these comments have caused much commotion online. That should be expected when one of the top creators in any artistic medium says something like this. People take notice. As such, there have been a lot of back and forths over what was meant, how accurate it is, the role of the companies and pressure they do or don’t put on bloggers and journalists, etc. There are many talented, well spoken writers talking about those things and I’m not going to.

Why? Because as far as I’m concerned these comments — a variation of something I’ve been saying for years — are not only related to comic books, but to many other forms of entertainment and media. And it’s a problem that seems to be growing worse despite the few who are fighting the good fight.

Comics, video games, arguably non-standard board games, and even interactive/new media seem to have a very thin level of Critic Analysis. Instead, they exist almost entirely on Reviewer Analysis.

At first, there might not seem to be much of a difference between those two terms. Both reviewers and critics exist to comment on and express their opinions on subjects to the public. And I’m going to eliminate the idea that it’s an issue of the pretentious (the Critic) versus the commoner (the Reviewer). Or that it’s a difference based on some kind of special training and a doctorate in literary theory.

No. The difference is all in the work crafted and created by the critic themselves. A synopsis followed by a “I like it” or “I hated it” or “It raped my childhood” is the way in which a Reviewer presents their criticism. They are not exploring the work. The Critic explores the work and talks as much or more about interpretation, feeling, engagement, structure, style, design, etc. as they do about the plot. And make no mistake. Critics write reviews. Reviewers can write critical essays. There is overlap. This isn’t some discrete dividing line. It’s a shifty, blurred venn-diagram.

Which takes me back to the original difference between the two and their different impacts on different mediums. Film, literature, theatre and music have hundreds of thousands of reviewers. They exist in newspapers and blogs and podcasts. But they also have a strong critical core (located in many of the same places) that can stand both against and with this democratized review world. A critical core based in an academic evaluation of the work (though academia need not be a part of it). And they have an audience receptive to that.

Comics, video games, and the rest are the reverse. A weak critical core that is overwhelmed by the large masses of reviews that fall into the summary + ”it sucks” mad-lib construction. The few in those fields trying to bring that strong sense of critical evaluation and interpretation face strong resistance: from the audience, from their peers and, in some ways, the entire structure of these industries.

First, the audience. While there is a small (and growing) audience hungry for actual criticism and analysis, that audience does not make up a large enough faction to help build the Critical Core and breed new critics. If the web hits are only coming when you write a 100 word review of snark, satire and hyperbole, then that’s where the attention is going. It’s the Ain’t It Cool News trickle down in effect. And while money or audience shouldn’t effect the quality of your work, they do effect how people can do the work: how often, how long, how many.

Secondly, peers. Early this spring, when Roger Ebert blasted video games as never having the potential to be art, the gnashing of teeth and insults coming from many video game “critics”, reviewers and bloggers, revealed a large difference between the two art forms. Very few on the video game side, were able to articulate strong arguments back. Most just relied on name calling blog comments, posts or mocking and insulting web comics. This helps show how little crossover there is between existing critical peer groups. Look at how often Watchmen gets trotted out by literary critics and reviewers. These people don’t dabble in the pond. They stick a toe in and call it done.

But the roots of film criticism were in literary criticism, which sprang from dramatic theory all those years ago. Now these industries have to learn and shape their own critical structures and that takes time.

And thirdly, the industries themselves. Are there any other industries that push the “pre-order or miss out” mentality as much as games and comics? And when you add in little to no review copies (comics) or lengthy pre-order periods to get extra swag (video games), you’re already marginalizing the role of the reviewer and, eventually, the critic. No one cares about the last release after the fact when you have so many upcoming releases. These industries don’t want you looking back, they want you marching forward.

And criticism is about slowing things down. These industries are about moving past it.

Thought 1:

It really bothers me when movies step away from their central premise for no real reason. I was watching Urban Legend earlier while cleaning. The entire modus operandi of the killer in the movie is to kill people based on urban legends (someone in the backseat, pop rocks and coke, etc). But in the midst of the movie (and I guess spoiler warning) Tara Reid gets killed in a very generic non-concept specific way. She’s just stalked, attacked and killed. Unless I’m missing something it’s incredibly glaring in the middle of the movie.

The strength of any film (whatever strength that movie may be said to have) is how well it uses its unique premise. Slasher films by and large aren’t that unique so to just stray from the film’s main premise in the middle of the movie seems so arbitrary and unnecessary and just.. poor.

Thought 2:

George Steinbrenner passed away yesterday. The owner of the Yankees was pure Force in human form and he changed the game in many, many ways and of course, depending on who you ask, it wasn’t always positive.

He was dramatic and he was big and he understood something very important: owning a sports team is owning a business that makes only one product: the Brand. And in sports, you define that Brand by winning.

You can scream about how he threw money at everything, and used his financial means to crush other teams, but that ignores the real picture: He wasn’t the richest owner in the sport, for every dollar he spent, he made more than enough back, and he continued to reinvest that into the Brand, into his product. It’s the mentality that any sports fan would want behind the wheel of the franchise they love, but aren’t all luckily enough to have.

The standards editor at the New York Times has passed an edict (or banned or as he states editorial guidelines) forbidding the use of “tweet” for non bird or onomatopoeia related usage; in other words, Mr. Phil Corbett has decreed that the NYT will not recognize the word tweet in relation to Twitter.

In his own words:

Some social-media fans may disagree, but outside of ornithological contexts, “tweet” has not yet achieved the status of standard English. And standard English is what we should use in news articles.

Except for special effect, we try to avoid colloquialisms, neologisms and jargon. And “tweet” — as a noun or a verb, referring to messages on Twitter — is all three. Yet it has appeared 18 times in articles in the past month, in a range of sections.

Of course, new technology terms sprout and spread faster than ever. And we don’t want to seem paleolithic. But we favor established usage and ordinary words over the latest jargon or buzzwords.

One test is to ask yourself whether people outside of a target group regularly employ the terms in question. Many people use Twitter, but many don’t; my guess is that few in the latter group routinely refer to “tweets” or “tweeting.” Someday, “tweet” may be as common as “e-mail.” Or another service may elbow Twitter aside next year, and “tweet” may fade into oblivion. (Of course, it doesn’t help that the word itself seems so inherently silly.)

“Tweet” may be acceptable occasionally for special effect. But let’s look for deft, English alternatives: use Twitter, post to or on Twitter, write on Twitter, a Twitter message, a Twitter update. Or, once you’ve established that Twitter is the medium, simply use “say” or “write.”

I have to say I can see the argument and the justification Mr. Corbett is using. You don’t want to be lured into using a new technological term like (made up) “bilzbop” for it to fade away over night. But his weak discussion and hiding behind some ideal “standard” English is troubling. Of course, this new usage for tweet has not yet been recognized by whatever higher power recognizes and labels words as “standard”. That takes time and usage. But not just usage by every day people. No, it requires usage by the “standard” bearers.

And here is my problem. English is a language of the people. It is a living language and it should be treated as such. As words grow in usage and receive different meanings, the language and the people who use the language should not wait on some “standard bearer”.

This style edict is all the more troubling when you realize that it continues to reinforce archaic media walls. Old media versus new media mirrored in the behavior of dead language and living language. I am not, nor would I ever dare, suggest that the Times begin to speak in broken internet short hand. I would ask them to consider a few things though:

• When brevity and page space matter, why use several words for one?
• When clarity matters, why not use the exact term?
• When you are battling for your audience and part of that battle involves the vernacular of your readers, what do you lose by embracing the term from a service that you yourself use?
• And, lastly, if your pride yourself on the motto, “where the conversation begins”, why are you letting others dictate the terms of your conversation? Seven hundred years ago, the poet Dante explained that the vernacular was the more noble language over Latin, because the vernacular was the language of the people. That it was the language that was natural to us. Like babies learning new words, our language grows with us on a yearly basis. And it grows quickly, with reckless abandon.

As it should.

And as your audience falls away to the bloggers and other new media, you have to ask not just who you’re having that conversation with, but how and why you use the words you use. Because really, it might not be a big deal to not use “tweet” or our fictional “bilzbop”, but as we push forth with new ideas and new technology and new devices, waiting around for the standard bearers to say “its okay” isn’t going to be okay when you have no one left to say it too.

The text of Mr. Corbett’s comments came from The Awl.

I’ve been watching the Halloween movies lately. Don’t ask why. Sometimes you just get in the mood to watch something out of season. And sometimes that urge leads you to watch movies that aren’t always good. (And while I’ve watched Bad Santa during July, I’ve never made the plunge to watching Tim Allen’s The Santa Clause on Memorial Day weekend).

Anyway, after watching the original and then the Zombie remake (coupled with watching the recent Elm Street reboot), it becomes apparent what doesn’t work about Rob Zombie’s film. These creatures — Michael, Freddy, Jason — are very much tied into suburban fears. It’s where they draw their strength from.

Jason represents the thing that goes bump in the night outside of the city. Sure, he’s out at a campsite, but everything and everyone in the movies scream suburban (even when the characters come from the city). Take the “bump in the night” out of the night and put him in the city (aka the dismally bad Jason Takes Manhattan) and his effect is diminished. Is a hockey masked, machete wielding slow moving mass really that scary in an alley way full of rapists and drug dealers?

Similarly, Freddy is the thing inside of our head. No matter where you live, your own imagination can betray you. As a character, he turns on the idea that our dreams give him power. It’s that chill that keeps us awake at night and that we can’t hide from no matter we live. Inner-city crime rate too high? Flee to the nearby small town and feel safe. Safe, that is, until a news report plants a chilling seed in your mind that gnaws at you in the middle of the cold night.

Which leaves Michael Myers. The shape. The boogeyman. The representative of the darkness that lurks within the family unit. Nearly all of the movies boil down to the idea of family (Resurrection is the only one that ignores it after it’s first 15 minutes and the movie is a slow walk down the horrible trail at that point).

But in Rob Zombie’s Halloween, we get nearly forty minutes of back story to explain why a young boy would snap one Halloween and kill his sister. It’s supposed to be a look into the developing mind of a sociopath. Except it doesn’t work out that way. Just like Jason’s little trip to New York, the character loses its power once we surround it by other horribly mean characters. Is Michael Myers scarier than racist, redneck mental hospital guards who gleefully gang rape a traumatized patient?

If the story puts you in the position to think about something like that, then the story’s lost its battle. And if your Big Bad Scary Evil Monster-Man wastes time taking out criminals or vile disgusting human beings, then you’ve weakened the scare. We should be afraid for these relatively innocent (if stupid) people and not feeling pretty blase that a rapist received cinematic just desserts.

I’ve been reading many of the plays of Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa over the past few days. He’s a very talented playwright, who’s works are brimming with a strange mix of pop-culture and literary awareness that has been seasoned with sexuality.

What I’ve enjoyed about this journey through Aguirre -Sacasa’s published works is just how unique each play and universe feels. Obviously like all writers, he has common themes he retreats to but each of them has stood as separate individuals.

But what’s really gotten me thinking since I started reading them is wondering how long it will take before the plays could fall into the hands of high school english classes (my guess: never). Obviously the sexuality and language present a block that will most likely remain, but the discussions that could be spawned from some of these plays almost begs to be had (at least in an AP class).

For instance, the play Good Boys and True takes a look at the high pressure exclusivity of a private school and the scandals that a sex tape can bring. Its an interesting look at at a phenomenon all the more common in this post One Night in Paris world and one that speaks to different generations with a relevancy that something like Oedipus Rex does not. (And don’t mistake me there. I love me some Greek incest and eye gouging, but its low on the relatability scale for most people who read it regardless of age.)

On the other end of the scale, though, is a play by Aguirre -Sacasa called Rough Magic. It’s the story of a woman who has found herself with the ability to literally bring life to the characters in plays and has. For instance, The Merchant of Venice’s Shylock now lives in modern day New York as a bookseller. It’s more of an action oriented play with the focus on the struggle between this woman and the real-life Prospero (not Shakespeare’s fictional one), but it works as such a wonderful survey into characters from different works and to the nature of stage storytelling. The furies from the Oresteia working side by side with Caliban works the same way as post-modern TV shows like Robot Chicken. And as a comparison piece to movies, having an action play to discuss works conversational wonders.

I did not enjoy the vast majority of the books I read when I was in high school, but I loved all the plays. It’s not that the books were bad — I can recognize quality while hating the tale — but there was always a sense that the value of these books was determined not because of their conversational or exploratory merits, but because of an abstract intrinsic work. And I understand certain materials have to be read. I get that and it’s hard to fight for change.

But, man, reading these plays makes me wish those discussions could be had. New blood could leak into the literary canon. And, yknow, sometimes all it takes is the right taste to get someone hooked for life.

Akira Kurosawa would have been 100 years old today had he not passed away in 1998. He created an incredibly legacy of film. Not only did he leave behind some of the most magnificent movies to have ever been made, but he influenced generations of film makers around the world.

In an essay on the criterion collection’s website, Donald Richie says that Kurosawa “was interested only in practice — how to make films more convincing, more real, more right.” If the theories of other realities are true, then we can hope that maybe Kurosawa achieved his goal in at least one of them. Some of us, though, would say he achieved that goal here. In this one.

Throne of Blood and Rashomon are among some of the greatest movies I’ve ever seen. Brilliant is thrown around too casually today, but those were and are brilliant. They are just as vibrant and engaging now as when they were first put to the screen.

For me, though, the saddest part about celebrating a genius in any artistic medium, is what we are missing out on. If we stop and think would he was able to create with comparatively just the barest essentials, how big of a masterpiece could he have made with a world of technology at his hand?

I like media. Love it. All different kinds, all different ways we can tell stories, express ideas and create entertainment, but I’m reading less books now then ever before. And it’s not that I’m not reading. I’m still reading plays, scripts, comics, news stories, in depth articles, and essays.

But books are falling by the way side and that bothers me. It’s not that I’m incapable of reading a good juicy book (I am), but it’s finding them. Of all forms of media we currently have books seem to be the hardest to have a Genius-style “if you liked” genome project. They also take the largest initial commitment to determine whether or not you’ll like them.

Take a moment to think about the amount of investment required in just sampling a book. You can give a song 3 minutes, a comic 15 minutes, a sitcom 22 minutes, an hour long drama 44 minutes or a movie 2 hours. In all those cases you can take in the full work and determine whether or not you liked them. A play may only take a few hours to read (a movie script maybe 70 minutes). But a book. Try reading a book at random off the shelf in a genre you enjoy from an author you’ve never heard of.

How fast do you read? Give yourself 22 minutes or 44 minutes and then decide if you like the book and/or the author. It’s a hard task to do.

And the idea of finding a book off the shelf at random is a massive time consuming ordeal in itself. Unlike any other medium the amount of pre-entrance knowledge for newer books is low. If you’re going to read Harry Potter for the first time you’re fine. With a movie, you can seek out trailers, they are TV commercials and clips. With something like a song or a comic, there’s very little pre-knowledge needed. Video games spend their entire development cycle creating material to get people interested: synopsis, interviews, walkthroughs, pictures, trailers…

And while I’m aware that a book cannot do that (or at least well, most trailers for books tend to be very lame at the best), but that only makes it harder to find a needle in the book stacks. As it stands, the lack of a true genome project for books (and it may be something that can never exist) is a detriment for me. For example, I like the John Sandford Prey novels but really can’t be bothered with almost all other crime/detective fiction (not that I find it bad, just not my cup of tea.) I like the work of Brad Meltzer, but can’t stand John Grisham. I like the fantasy crafted by Neil Gaiman (Coraline, Stardust) and Gregory Maguire (Wicked) but have trouble connecting with similar authors. Short stories can help introduce you to authors (as was my introduction to the genius of Junot Diaz), but even sorting for short stories can be ridiculous.

This puts me in the position where I have to buy blind once I’ve purchased every book from an author I enjoy. And so far I’ve had pretty good success. I’ve discovered the works of Alexandra Robbins (Pledged, The Overachievers) and Alan DeNiro’s bizarre and wonderful Total Oblivion, More or Less. But each time I become more and more reluctant to pick up a new book. The debate takes longer. Eventually luck runs out.

Which makes me feel bad. I’m sure there are many talented authors out there with brilliant books that I’ve yet to experience. But without a system to find them and with such a high cost of barrier to determine like/dislike, it may be a long time before I do find them.

I know I’ve neglected the blog a bit.

Progress still being made on the short film, but weather is a harsh mistress sometimes.

I’m trying out Mac Journal right now. One of the reason’s I seem to be unable to get into the blogging spirit is actually having to open up the web interface. It’s ugly and unintuitive to me (and that’s not the fault of wordpress. I like wordpress!).

Anyway, we’re going to see if this doesn’t motivate more updates.

So here’s a few pictures from our nearly full costume test. We’re still getting a belt, looking at footwear. Our concern was to make sure that everything fit the way it was supposed to so we could permanently assemble and strap things on.

Plus, ya gotta know what the costume looks like before you accessorize!

And here is Machiavelli the cat, caught a little off guard: (The truth is he looks like that ANY TIME his paws are not on the ground. It’s kind of funny.)