"Rosebud was his SLED!!!"

One thing that gets bandied about in the discussion of films is the preponderance of bloopers within. That is, errors in a film that certain eagle-eyed viewers catch that they are all too eager to share with the rest of us. Oddly enough, for my own part, I'm not such a continuity freak that such things really bother me. And really, pointing out a show's bloopers reminds me of this classic exchange from the Simpsons:

Doug: [wearing a T-shirt that says "Genius at Work"] Hi. A question for Miss Bellamy. In episode 2F09 when Itchy plays Scratchy's skeleton like a xylophone, he strikes the same rib twice in succession, yet he produces two clearly different tones. I mean, what are we to believe, that this is some sort of a magic xylophone or something? Boy, I really hope somebody got fired for that blunder.

June Bellamy: Uh, well...

Homer: I'll field this one.

Homer: [to Doug] Let me ask you a question. Why would a man whose shirt says "Genius at Work" spend all of his time watching a children's cartoon show?

[pause]

Doug: I withdraw my question. [takes a bite from a bar of chocolate]

Ultimately, in a good movie, any bloopers within aren't going to detract from your enjoyment of it. For instance, in the classic 'Citizen Kane', since no one is close enough to Charles Foster Kane to hear his final word gasped out, "Rosebud", how does the reporter know how to uncover its cryptic meaning? Unless you were to really think about it, you wouldn't notice that error itself. And on the other hand, in a Uwe Boll crap fest, f'r instance, someone ensuring that a SWAT team's uniforms and equipment are accurate isn't really going to obscure the simple fact that the movie is a celluloid turd.

Also, there is a point where verisimilitude in a movie detracts from the audience's pleasure in seeing the movie. Here's a hypothetical: Say you're seeing a drama about the intertwining lives of some residents of New Orleans, post-Katrina. One of the stars in the ensemble is an up-and-coming young actor, 'X'. 'X's role in the drama is of a young trumpet player who's developed an enthusiasm for Dixieland jazz. In the course of the film, the young musician serenades the other characters with an elegiac rendition of 'St. James Infirmary' in a scene that is meant to symbolize the destruction of not just a great American city, but an invaluable link to America's culture. Here's the problem: The scene is shot so we, the audience, can clearly see that the actor, 'X', is in fact really playing the trumpet, and not cut to a close-up of a session musician's hands on a trumpet. The audience, has in fact, been made into a jury, judging 'X's trumpet-playing, as opposed to an audience wanting to see a story unfold. And the mood is broken. The audience leaves the theater thinking, Gee, I had no idea 'X' was such a good horn player as opposed to, My, what a sad scene where Joey, the earnest young musician mourns his city in the most eloquent way he can.

That having been said, here's some bloopers from some famous (and not-so-famous) films that I've spotted. Next time you rent these ones, keep an eye out!

Dumbo (1941)- Elephants can't fucking fly! Even if the fucking elephant's ears were each the size of fucking football fields, the fucking elephant couldn't get off the fucking ground! Fuck!

Star Wars (1976)- How many physics lessons does Hollywood have to ignore? There. Are. No. Explosions. In. Space. It's a vacuum! Sound doesn't travel in a vacuum! Arrgh!

The Sting (1973)- Robert Redford and Paul Newman weren't adults in the thirties! They were toddlers! Are we to believe that toddlers are capable of being con-artists?

It's a Wonderful Life (1946)- Jimmy Stewart's character enjoys some colorful flowers. Trouble is, the movie's shot in black-and-white! Hello?

Say, What's the Big Idea? (1936)- Wop Dabney's character vomits a bathtub full of stomach contents on Lady Huffington's toy terrier, Flopsy, then in the next scene, Flopsy's totally clean! As if!

1941 (1976)- It wasn't made in 1941, it was made in 1976!

Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings trilogy (2001-2003) Ian Mckellan isn't really a wizard named Gandalf; he's a renowned Shakespearean actor from Britain. I bet he couldn't even cast a fireball in real life! Haw!

Schindler's List (1993)- Everyone knows the 'holocaust' was made up by the Jews so they could guilt-trip everyone else into selling 'em gabardine at cost. Jeez.

Amistad (1997)- Same goes for black people being 'enslaved'. Double jeez.

A Clockwork Orange (1971)- Malcolm McDowell has white hair; why'd Kubrick cast a senior citizen in the part of a sociopathic teenager? Couldn't he cast, you know, an actual teenager? Hey, Stanley, here's a tip: For your next movie, cast a teenager in the part you think a real teenager would be good for.

The Song of The Donkey-Raper (1983)- Muad J'abdoad is speaking Farsi when the locale is clearly Northern Iran.

United 93 (2006)- So if the towelheads delayed everyone's flight, why didn't people just book other travel arrangements? Dur!

Roadhouse (1989) Okay, so if this movie's set in 1989, how come some of the Jim Beam bottle labels in the bar are from the Jim Beam's 'new, improved' labelling implemented in 1990? Kinda makes you think...

Independence Day (1996) Bill Pullman was never elected to the office of President of the United States; he's a movie actor! Also, his name's 'Bill Pullman', not 'Thomas J. Whitmore'.

Donnie Darko (2001)- 'Cellar Door' are not the most beautiful words in the English language; the most beautiful words in the English language, are, in fact, 'Nickel Slots'.

Blade Runner (1983)-When Deckard arrives home, Rachel is already waiting for him in the elevator. However, a) Rachel has no way of knowing where Deckard lives, as information regarding a policeman's address is not given out to the public, least of all a replicant, and b) Rachel could not have followed him because Deckard was first taken by Gaff to Leon's apartment via police spinner, then Deckard drove home using his own sedan; and even after driving home, Rachel was already waiting for him. Also, I cry a lot for no reason whatsoever.

Rambo III (1988)- So, that one scene, where Rambo guts the Russian officer, and plays the officer's exposed ribcage like a xylophone? We hear two distinct tones when Rambo hits the same rib twice. Are we to believe that the officer has a magic rib cage? That is capable of making two distinct notes when hit in succession? Boy, I hope someone lost their job over that blunder...

"So who does watch the Watchmen, anyways?"

Let me just strap on my neckbeard, here...

Ah. There we go. Now, then.

Given the caliber of the people involved in the forthcoming 'Watchmen' movie, I don't see any nuanced, articulate meta-commentary of the superhero genre being part of it. It'll probably be that 'okay action-mystery-sci-fi' movie that eventually makes it's production costs back from DVD sales/rentals. (kinda like 'V for Vendetta')

What itches my neckbeard in this case, however, is that the original creator Alan Moore is stuck in a lose/lose proposition. His (and artist Dave Gibbons') original deal with DC/Warner stipulated that all rights to Watchmen reverted to them once it had gone out of print for a time. (In which case, as Mr. Moore had pointed out, he and Mr. Gibbons were free to make all the money they could from the slurpee-cup licensing.) Well, twenty-some odd years later, with the Watchmen graphic novel still in print, we can all see how well that deal turned out for them...

And let's face it, the reviews are going to nail him to the wall if it tanks ('Alan Moore's seminal 'Watchman' graphic novel flops on the big screen...') and in the unlikely event it's a success, ('Zack Snyder's take on DC/Warner's 'Watchmen' is boffo at the box office!'), he's not going to benefit in any practical way. Any money coming from DC/Warner on this is going entirely to Dave Gibbons, since Moore's previous comic-to-movie adaptations were such disasters, Moore wanted to disavow himself from them. (He eschewed any compensation from the studios after the train wreck that was League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.)

Well, you may ask, you little rascal, you: "So why doesn't Alan Moore either A) demand more hands-on involvement like Frank Miller with Sin City or B) shut up and just take the Hollywood money like Dashell Hammett did? (As Hammett pointed out when asked if he was concerned that the studios would ruin his work, "Look, my books are still there on the bookshelf, they're fine.")

In regards to A),Watchmen isn't Moore and Gibbons' property like Sin City is Miller's, it's DC/Warner's. And Warner's is more likely to treat Moore like Disney treated Dave Stevens on the set of 'The Rocketeer'. That is, throw him off the set and dangle lawsuits over him to shut him up. And in the case of B), Moore has this pesky vestigial quirk perhaps unfamiliar to movie executives called a set of principles. These principles were what made him not do any more work for DC after he felt that he and many other talents were treated by the company as hired hands in a field. If he took any money from them after the fact, he'd look like a hypocrite. (Then, when DC bought out Wildstorm from under Jim Lee, Moore was still accused of being a sellout, since he was still doing work for Wildstorm.)

The point of all this nerdy indignation, I suppose, is that comics are not a stepping-stone to the wealth, glamour, and big titties that is Hollywood as some people might suppose. And secondly, work like 'Watchmen' doesn't lend itself easily to other mediums. It was specifically designed to work as a comic, and ideally, a comic it should remain. Put it this way: Could any of cartoonist Chris Ware's work be 'adapted' for film or T.V.? Nope. All the movie of 'Watchmen' is going to be is another trip to the money well by DC/Warner while Alan Moore, who raised up the medium more than a few notches in quality, and practically built the ground floor for DC's Vertigo line of 'mature comics', (Remember all those 'Bang! Pow! Zoom! Comics aren't for kids these days!' articles in mainstream magazines in the 90's?) gets roughly the same deal the 'Superman' creators got.

The other message to take away from this, is that if one wants to work in a medium where one wants to do thoughtful, more meaningful work, the comic book field is not the way to go. Let's face it, there's been quite a resurgence in good television in the past few years. The Wire, Deadwood, The Sopranos, Mad Men (off the top of my head) are all examples of this. Hell, even a lot of what you'd consider more mainstream T.V. fare is looking pretty good. (like 'House, M.D', 'Heroes' and 'Battlestar Galactica', to name a few. I imagine you'd still have to endure the same level of petty bureaucracies and corporate bullshit working in television that one does in a comic-book publishing house, but at least you'd be paid well enough to put up with it.

And hey, there'd be not a neckbeard in sight...

"...Run it up the flagpole, J.B...."

Mad Men (B+) My God, these long fingernails, this white beard... Last thing I remember, I was playing lawn bowling with these gnomes...

So how ya doin'? Good, good. Been busy myself... So, let's get to it. AMC's 'Mad Men' is a coldly nostalgic look back at the start of the '60's, and particularly, the rise of the ad executive as a force in American society. Unlike, for instance, "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying", it's not looking down on its characters from a very tall height. Actually, let's discuss what it's also not. It's not a bitter screed against advertising as a negative influence in the culture. It's not a Douglas Sirk type melodrama, though the colouring and settings seem right for that sort of thing.

What you've got here is creator Matthew Wiener's (Soprano's scribe) take on a period in America where we were right on the cusp of Utopia. The Cold War, if not outright won by capitalism and Democracy, had wound up beating the Reds into a corner. As a result, it seemed prosperity for every American was a god-given, hard-won right for every American; that they were reaping the benefits of suffering through the second world war and the Korean war. The only question was: How far can our dreams go? And here's where the Madison Avenue advertising executive comes in...

During this time, Radio, movies, printed media, and that new-ish one, television were doing their best to shoehorn Americans into a cultural square peg. It would be easier to shave off all the idiosyncrasies out of all those children of Irish, German, and English serfs than to cater to their odd customs. (While the Jews were as much a part of America as the other serfs, they brought with them the baggage of being outsiders from the Old Country. Even though their money was as just as green as everyone else's, Post-war America didn't really want to let them in the club. As for blacks in America, well, best that those people were seen but not heard. Not until Birmingham, five years later, anyway...)

Mad Men (the title's from a sobriquet they made for themselves; MADison avenue MEN, geddit?) revolves around one particular ad exec, Don Draper, as American a name as ever lived. Well, it's the name he switched with a dead Army officer so the former white-trash Dick Whitman could reinvent himself as the squarest peg that ever fit into a square hole. He's got a former model-turned housewife, two adorable little kids, and a place in the suburbs. On the outside, his life seems as perfect as one of those advertisements he's so good at creating. The catch is, having everything he's ever wanted, he's still painfully unhappy. (He makes impulsive plans to his subsequent mistresses to bolt off to Paris and Los Angeles.) In fact, one of the main themes of the show is how everyone in this place of privilege is so unhappy. It's made worse by the fact that they know they can't really complain about their lot in their life of privilege, and it would be small comfort if they knew their friends and co-workers were in the same boat as them.

What is really impressive about this show is how worked out it is. Not just in the minor details, like the costumes, props,and historical accuracy, but also in how each character's story resonates with each other's. Note how Don's cool demeanor plays off against frustrated junior exec Pete Campbell, in the scene where Campbell discovers Don's real past as Whitman. Campbell tries to blackmail Don into a promotion, and Don coolly calls his bluff and goes to Bert Cooper, the agency head's, office. When Campbell sputteringly reveals Don's deception, Cooper shrugs and says, "Who cares?"

I guess if I had any problems with the show, it's cleverness gets a tad oppressive. Some of the references are a bit too on the nose; the constant drinking and smoking, the Leon Uris novel, 'Exodus' and Ayn Rand's 'Atlas Shrugged', fr' instance. Also, since there's so much story, some threads just get dropped off- the single mother-turned neighbourhood-pariah narrative just evaporates. And finally, the final twist of having Peggy give birth without her knowing she was even pregnant stretches credulity. (I'm hoping next season has her acknowledge her condition in some way- I mean, come on...)

I'm looking forward to season two, out in June 2008.