Seven Soldiers #1

Morrison's grandest storytelling experiment culminates with an issue that, much like the series itself, is rather obscure on the surface, but is absolutely packed with connection and content underneath. It's one of the most insular issues of all time, neglecting traditional narrative structure, instead exploring the issue of the nature of heroism, which has driven all the minis. I'm pretty satisfied with the resolution that all the main characters received, and I think everyone got their moment to shine.

The first thing that stood out to me on the first read through was the sheer amount of formal experimentation that Morrison and Williams engage in. I think this issue confirms J.H. Williams' status as the greatest artist in comics today, his work is aesthetically wonderful and he's able to move through so many different styles, it's absolutely awe inspiring. Here he's tasked with mimicking the style of the seven minis, and also doing newspaper stuff, storybook stuff and a retelling of ancient myth. He handles everything wonderfully, and the clarity of his art helps keep the issue comprehenisble. I wish he had been around for the end of The Invisibles, he could have made the final three issue arc into an unqualified masterpiece. He and Quitely are working on a whole different level than anyone else in comics.

Our setup is a narration by one of the Seven Unknown Men, speaking to Zor/Cyrus Gold/The Terrible Time Tailor. The identity of the Seven Unknown Men is never revealed, but with his bald head and control over the continuity of this universe, it's pretty clear this is an analogue for Morrison himself. I love the DC pin on his tie, and his knock to the audience on the first page. That said, I was pretty confused by a lot of the Seven Unknown Men stuff, and I could use another read of the issue to really suss it out. It's largely about the reinvention of heroism, GM establishing the paradigm for a new age of comics, much like in Flex Mentallo, erasing the conservative, darkness of someone like Zor with wonder and bright.

There's a lot of meta commentary here, but in the context of the story itself, we see Zor weave an awful future for the Newsboy Army and cause them to combust against each other. Then we see him attack Zatanna and try to remake her into the sadistic heroine, Zorina. However, she overcomes that darkness and reclaims her own identity. He is a virus in the universe, trying to push people into this highly sexualized darkness, while the Seven Unknown Men are trying to allow magic to prevail.

A critical component of Morrison's work within the DCU is the idea that the New Gods are the mythological ancestors of contemporary superheroes. They are the role model for people like Superman, and Auracles is the first hero, the model for all who will follow. In his line is the potential for world changing heroism that is so needed in this world. The New Gods give people the capacity to control the world around them, to understand the nature of the world and better it. In these panels, we can see Aurakles bright red hair, tying him in with Alix, who is apparently the end of the line for Aurakles.

At the end of the issue, Alix is told that she's free. The Sheeda are a force that will always come to raze worlds, reset progress and stop man from moving towards better things. Through this confluence of actions, the Sheeda are stopped and a more benevolent Sheeda ruler is put in place. This means that Aurakles' great failure is atoned for and his role of shepherding humanity to this place is fulfilled. Alix never wanted to be a hero, but unconsciously she has fulfilled her role as the spear that was never thrown. Her whole miniseries was about people trying to force her into the role of hero, a role she didn't want. Here, her basic desire to help people, even Sally Sonic who had attacked her, leads to her fulfilling her destiny and saving the world from Sheeda invasion, making it safe for humanity to move forward. That's something critical that's touched on in Bulleteer #3, her weakness is that she listens and cares about people, not just advancing her own career. However, that is a form of heroism in itself, and it winds up being her great contribution to the destruction of Gloriana.

From there, we move into the newspaper parts. I think this was an interesting device, and worked well to convey a lot of information, but it wasn't my favorite part of the issue. The crossword puzzle is the most interesting piece, I got the answers off Barbelith and they raise some interesting questions. Apparently Suzi did give birth, and her children are Ed's assistants at the Guardian. The toher cool one is six down, where he points out that Lance is a synonym for spear. Also, Grant establishes himself as one of the seven unknown men. Very cool. Ed gets to acheive his dream of having a super gang working for him, the wonder of the Newsboy Army is reclaimed. Also great is Shelly's letter, with the quintessential GM line "Every day is mythology when you use your X-Ray vision to really, really LOOK." And when people put on their 'hero costumes,' the line between herovestite and real hero disappears. That's one of the major themes from SS#0, and it recurs here, with Ed essentially saying that all it takes to be a hero is trying to be one and acting like it.

On this Barbelith thread, someone mentioned that the difference between Alan Moore and Grant Morrison is that Morrison is messier, but provides you with more FUCK YEAH! moments, and this issue is the perfect example of that. You may not always be sure what's going on, but I was constantly thrilled by what was going on. In experiencing fiction, what I'm looking for is those moments that just make my jaw drop from the sheer coolness of what's happening. This issue delivered those in spades.

One easy one was the return of Zatanna. I loved her mini so much, just getting a bit more GM Zatanna was cause for celebration. More than ever, Zatanna reads like Lorelai Gilmore as a magician, full of self deprecating humor and even dropping a Scissor Sisters reference. I love the page where Misty reclaims her position with the Sheeda. We finally see the meeting of Misty and Klarion, a family reunion I'd been looking forward to. Misty is someone who feels the weight of responsibility of her role with the Sheeda. She fears becoming Gloriana because she cannot see the third path. She thinks that becoming Sheeda queen means keeping the ways of the past.

However, Klarion is utterly rebellious, just enjoying things as he goes. So when he claims power, he does not take responsibility. He takes control of the ship, and presumably the Sheeda armies, but we have no reason to believe he will be malicious. Rather he will use his power to have fun and create chaos. He turned on the soldiers by joining the Sheeda, but he was only a hero when it was fun for him. He is too mischeivious to be a real hero. I love the final page with him juggling the dice, Sheeda slaves licking his boots. The blend of Bianchi style and Irving style is seamless.

Throughout the whole series, Zatanna has been, as she says, crippled with self doubt. She fears the consequences of using her powers and believes that she is unable to live up to the legacy of her father. However, empowered by her meeting with him at the end of Zatanna #4, she comes to terms with her past. A nice Ali Ka Zoom cameo prompts her to cast a spell to empower the Seven Soldiers. This page is arguably the greatest page of any comic ever. The art is so uniquely beautiful, images from the series spilling out on tarot cards, along with an invitation for the reader to fight alongside Zatanna. Much like her reach out to the reader in issue #4, this is a moment where she looks right at you and beckons you to join her in her magical act, "Let's save the world, you and me, together." Maybe she's talking to Misty, but the way it's presented, there's only one person she's looking at.

Gwydion's words prompt Zatanna to deliver a critical manifesto. The 'third path' was established back in SS#0, beyond the strict choice between good and evil, the near oppressive allegiance to one side, there is the ability to choose one's own way and trump destiny. For Misty, this means not becoming Sheeda Queen and instead continuing her work with Zatanna. This also ties into Alix, who rejects her destiny to be a certain kind of hero. Similarly, Shilo is able to reject death. This ties into the very end of The Invisibles, when Dane rejects questions of choice vs. free will, claiming that it's all the same, we're here and we have choices that create our reality. Zatanna rejects the limits that our roles place on us and invites to do the impossible, to wake the universe.

What does waking the universe mean? It likely ties in to Morrison's idea of the DCU as sentient entity. But, in the context of the story she is awakening the forces of good within reality and compelling them to help the heroes. Her spell is cast to the Unknown Men, to Morrison, to begin the phase of the story in which good happens. This is the turning point in defeating the Sheeda, and it's an astonishing moment. We don't see Zatanna again after this point, her work is done, she has set in motion everything that follows. That said, if I want to see Morrison writing any of these characters again, it would be Zatanna. Esaelp od a atanna dna ytsim seires.

Following this, we get a nice resolution for Guardian. His arc was basically done in his own series, it was only left for him to get Carla back. He does that here, and it's a great moment. Another fantastic Guardian tie in moment is the closeup on Ed, rebuking the Time Tailor. I feel like Guardian #4 affected me more than the rest of the issues combined, and I love the fact that we get a bit of resolution for that crew here. The flies around TTT here give the page such a nasty feel.

From there it's over to Ystina, who is totally resilient in battling Gloriana. She is unwilling to back down, even when it will mean her death, she proves herself to be a worthy knight of Camelot. She gets the most developed resolution in a scene that feels like Mathilda at the end of Leon. She is taken away from adventure and put into normal society. However, she is meant to be a knight and one day will take up the sword again.

It's a testament to the power of SS#0 that Spyder's shot at Gloriana feels so fulfilling. This guy was in one issue, but his prominence in the opening announced his importance in the narrative. I love the throwback to what prey would Gods hunt. His kissoff line to Gloriana is solid cool, as is Gloriana's techno eyepatch. That page features some of my favorite art in the issue, particularly the striking panel of Gloriana falling towards the apple.

Frankenstein doesn't get much to do this issue, largely because he already played his part in the final issue of his own miniseries. That crippled Gloriana's fleet and set her up for the finale here. I'm really happy with Gloriana's death, no standard battle could live up to it, and that makes the semi-ridiculous car crash the perfect way to destroy her. I really like the captions here, particularly "Prophecy moves in for the kill."

This leaves us with the most complex segment of the issue, the stuff with Mister Miracle. As I mentioned in my previous post on the series, that mini was all about a descent into absolute darkness as a way to discover the heroism within. His experience erased his fear and guilt, leaving him free to move on to a higher form of heroism. As we saw earlier, The New Gods are all about giving humanity the tools to move to the next stage of evolution, and his experience has left Shilo with the vision of another dimension of reality, as he says in an absoultely kickass moment "I come with God-Sight now." In his exchange with Dark Side, we simultaneously experience their actual speech and their God speech.

Apparently the guy who was called Omega in MM4 is actually Aurakles, the first hero imprisoned. He seems to have been tortured so much that he's lost touch with the heroism at his core. This ties into the whole purpose of Shilo's black hole experience. Metron told him that he was sent there because the New Gods were lost, they were training him for this moment, when he would sacrifice himself so that Aurakles could be freed and the powers of the New Gods could be recovered. Then, humanity can move on to the next stage of its evolution.

Shilo is the avatar of the life equation, freedom, choice, escape from the restrictions of human society. By killing him, Dark Side thinks that he will remove the rebellious streak from the human world and crush the spirit of heroism. His quick death takes you out of the superhero reality, villains aren't supposed to use guns like this, and there's no escape for Mister Miracle from the bullet. At the end, Dark Side believes that the triumph over the Sheeda is a hiccup against the progression of darkness.

However, his words are rendered utterly false in the final page, as Shilo bursts triumphantly out of his grave, infused with the power of The New Gods, he is the avatar of freedom and he returns triumphant. The return of this avatar fits in perfectly with the other theme of the third path. As Zatanna said, one of the critical issues in the series was the possibility of personal choice. For the characters here, fate is a jacket sewn by the Time Tailor, designed to hold them to a bad destiny. That is the essence of Dark Side, to trap. However, he did not count on the ultimate escape artist.

In the end, all the characters get what they want, the freedom to choose their own path. Alix was forced into the role of hero, but finds herself absolved and free to move on with her life. Klarion hated the restrictive world he lived in, but now finds himself free to rule over others. Zatanna was unable to live up to the memory of her father, but he liberated her from his legacy and gave her the courage to choose her own path. Jake overcame his malaise and found a way to be a hero and still be with Carla. Ystina found a way to overturn the fall of Camelot and rediscover heroism in the modern world. And Shilo overcame the hollowness of his life as a celebrity to become a God. And Frankenstein was liberated from the legacy of Melmoth by helping to defeat the evil that created him.

Some become heroes, but more importantly everyone gets what they want. And when Miracle rises out of the grave, he heralds a new age of heroism, the universal awakening that Zatanna summoned is beginning. He has moved beyond all the shackles of humanity, faced death and came out ahead. We can view Dark Side as an avatar of Zor, an outdated concept who is trying to lower the world to his level. However, the intervention of the Unknown Man puts Zor away, literally sealing his darkness out of the world and replacing it with the shiny, wonder that Shilo's rebirth promises. As Zatanna tells us, magic is about doing the impossible, bringing the ideal world we want to life by choosing the third path, our own path.

This issue is one of the densest works ever done in comics. On every page there's a crazy concept, and amongst all this is a generally satisfying resolution for all the characters. I'd have loved a few more pages, a glimpse of what's up with Frankenstein or Zatanna, but I came out very satisfied. Seven Soldiers is a distillation of so many different ideas and storytelling modes, it's astonishing to see them all collide here, and that collision underscores the basic themes that drive all the miniseries. This is Grant's second greatest work, behind only The Invisibles. In the same way that The Invisibles functions as a deconstruction of our own reality and offers the reader a way to discover the wonder within their own world, Seven Soldiers breaks down the DC universe and provides a model for its heroes to reclaim the magic within their lives. Flex Mentallo is an overture to this work, and though SS lacks Flex's tight cohesion, it makes up for it in stunning ambition and the sheer amount of dazzling moments. This issue had so many panels that made me smile, in a way that only Grant can do. He's working on an entirely different level than anyone else out there today and after 25 years in comics, he's still creating fresh, startlingly innovative works. This is one of those works that makes me priveleged just to have the chance to experience something so powerful and thought provoking. Thank you Grant and all your art team for creating such an ambitious, powerful project.

My Complete Seven Soldiers Post Index

Seven Soldiers: Mister Miracle

Issue #1 is in house, and I'm almost through the reread, only two issues to go. I just finished reading Mister Miracle #4 and I wanted to discuss that series a bit. On the first read, I was very confused by it, and disappointed by the lack of connection to the rest of the series. It still feels a bit removed from the rest of the project, and might have been better received as a standalone piece. However, on this read I was able to understand what was going on a lot better, and I think I now get what Grant was doing with the series.

The work that Mister Miracle reminds me of most is David Lynch's Inland Empire. I won't go into too many specific spoilers for the film, but what both works do is basically take its hero on a harrowing journey through a variety of nightmare realities, bringing them to utter emotional collapse, before the reclamation of agency and a return to the world they left. It's difficult to follow Mister Miracle in pieces, partially because the nature of this project leads us to believe that the events must be 'real.' However, my reading of the series is that everything that occurs is a trial for Shilo, designed to help him overcome the loss of his brother and ascend to the role of hero. Metron sums this up when he says "The choice is simple. Free the bright ones or be slaves to the dark."

However, one cannot simply become a hero. In The Invisibles, Grant claimed that time is soil for us to grow in, and that we have to confront darkness because that's the only way that we can beocme stronger. If there is no dark, we would never evolve. Here, we see Shilo put through a series of increasingly awful realities, totally breaking him down so that he can finally overcome his guilt about his brother's death and become the hero the New Gods need him to be.

One thing that really helped me on this read was having the read the trade of Jack Kirby's New Gods run. So, I was familiar with all the basic concepts, this eternal struggle between light and dark. In the DCU, the New Gods serve as the spiritual ancestors of today's superheroes, and specially in Grant's JLA, they were role models, giving humanity a glimpse of what they could be. In reality, Shilo would likely be familiar with them, however in this alternate reality he's plunged into, he lacks knowledge of this heroic legacy. This is designed to show Shilo's complacency and uncertain position in the ongoing war between good and evil. He's a man who uses his power to acquire wealth and fame, he'd risk his life for money, but not to save people. He is not a hero.

All of the Seven Soldiers miniseries are about people who aren't heroes going through an emotional trial and are forced to choose between safety and heroism. In this respect, Mister Miracle fits in perfectly with the others, pushing the elements to the absolute extreme. Shilo is crippled, ages, and dies a number of times. This is a lot more than Zatanna's extistential angst or Guardian's separation from his girlfriend. That's because Shilo's story takes place in a purely mental existence. When he enters the black hole, he finds himself in an approximation of the life he's leading on the outside, then gradually slips into increasingly divergent realities.

All the events we see function as a trial, designed to break Shilo down to his essence, to overcome the restraints that are his life. The luxuries his fame afforded him no longer appeal, and he gradually loses all his real personal connections. His own belief in the New Gods, heroism, is tested when the homeless man won't respond as Metron. In issue three, he experiences all his greatest fears about his life, that someone will be a better escape artist than him, and this man will take his girlfriend and manager. This leaves Miracle alone and poor, facing the ultimate shame of buying some Depends.

Issue four presents more trials, all designed to wear Shilo down to his essence, to remove the guilt and pain he's carrying around with him. Omega is much like the guilt monster in Shining Knight, a physical manifestation of negative feeling. Omega's purpose is to hold Shilo back, to expose the hollowness of his life. However, Shilo turns this back on him and reveals the hollowness of Omega's own role. He owns his pain, and after that, he's ready to be a hero. Dezzard, Shilo's manifestation of his own negative feelings, is destroyed, and Metron effectively sums up the series' theme, "Forgive yourself and remove those chains you wear. Become what you were born to be." It's a message for all of us, that we can leave behind the negative emotions that hold us down, and once we relinquish those, we can ascend and be whatever we want to be.

As Shilo flies out of the black hole, Metron tells him to "Free the Gods. Free all of us." In this series, the New Gods are analagous with the capacity for heroism within all of humanity, they are the mythical incarnations of our best traits. So, Shilo is sent with the mission to hlep everyone escape their emotional shackles and evolve to the next level. It ties in nicely with Metron's message to the JLA at the end of World War III. And like other Morrison heroes, such as Dane, Shilo is given the mission of helping humanity evolve to the next level.

So, Mister Miracle has little narrative connection to the other miniseries, but it articulates the themes of the others perfectly. Those final words that Metron says apply to all the other soldiers, who are empowered with a mission to save humanity. And it's a classic Morrison theme, the idea that if we only move beyond human pettiness, we can evolve and become greater, more united beings.

The one issue that this interpretation raises is how to match the alternate reality nature of Mister Miracle with the series' crossover with Klarion's taxi. It's notable that in Klarison, we never actually see Shilo. Now, it's possible this was an art error, or Morrison just decided to put the Klarion taxi into Mister Miracle at some later point. However, I think that's evidence of the alternate reality. It was modeled on our own, right down to the random passersby, however, in the 'real' world, Klarion never saw Mister Miracle. And that would mean that yes, someone did pick up Jake's ring, and perhaps we'll find out who in issue #1.

I'm really excited to read that issue and I'll be on it later tonight. Look for a review then as well.

Weekend Update

The American Office

I finished watching the first season of the American Office, and it's better, but still nowhere near the British. The show's much broader, the UK characters did some ridiculous stuff, but it all felt plausible within the office environment. However, Michael Scott's out of the office in half the episodes, and in something like the basketball episode, it feels more like a club than an actual workplace. I love the awkwardness of office social gatherings in the quiz episode of the UK one, but at least that one happened after work, so it was plausible. I'm definitely laughing at the show, but it feels sort of like late season Seinfeld, to the UK's early Seinfeld. Early Seinfeld is painfully attuned to the way that real people interact, and the humor is mixed with pain at knowing that you're just like this. The American one is more just a well written wacky comedy. That said, I did really like the final scene in thep arking lot at the end of the first season, where all the characters go their seperate ways, each jealous of the others in some way.

The Box Office

This week saw the virtual death of Marie Antoinette at the box office, with only $2.5 million gross in it second week. I don't think it was going to be a blockbuster, but I know it's not playing near me here at Wesleyan, and I've talked to a bunch of people who wanted to see it, but couldn't. Same thing with The Science of Sleep. These are films that people want to see, and need to be released to more theaters. And the saddest thing is that an utterly hollow enterprise like Saw III winds up at the top of the box office. If I was running a studio, I would make these crappy horror films too, just because it's the only thing that people will reliably go to.

Media Censorship

I think it's really ridiculous that people will refuse to run ads for 'Death of a President' and the Dixie Chicks documentary. For DoaP, it's a piece of fiction! People aren't going to see this and all of a sudden to decide to assassinate George Bush. Did Elephant cause a rash of school shootings? I think considering the effect of an assassination is a very valid intellectual question, and the fact that people are unwilling to even ponder it is going against the principles on which the country was founded. It's not free speech for people you agree with. And that's where the Dixie Chicks issue comes in. Now, I lost respect for her when she apologized for making the comments about Bush. That was cowardly, but it's even more ridiculous to criticize someone for stating their opinion. Dissent is the very essence of what America was founded on, and saying that we can't debate a war while it's going on is a travesty.

This is the same logic that led people to say that we shouldn't "play the blame game" about Hurricane Katrina. When someone gets murdered, you don't call an investigation into who did it "the blame game," and Bush's actions led to hundreds of deaths. Why shouldn't we call him out on that so it doesn't happen again?

Battlestar Galactica: 'Collaborators' (3x05)

After last week's episode, I said:

"I feel like this episode marks the end of a fantastic run for the series, and, sadly, a return to the status quo. They seem to fluctuate between messing with the formula and returning to the basic everyone on the ship structure. Here we've got the ultimate return, and I'm just not sure that there's that many interesting stories to tell in that environment."

And while I'm not happy about, I was proven right, in an episode that's all about bringing people the show back to its early days, something that starts right from the opening credits, and continue through the "forget the past, let's get back to what we were doing" finale. That's not to say that there aren't lingering issues from the experience on New Caprica, but the bold new direction the series went in is pretty much gone and we're back to a generally underwhelming status quo.

I still think it was a massive mistake to spend so little time on New Caprica. Every one of those episodes was a masterpiece, one of the best things I've ever seen on TV, and a privelege to watch every week. The other era of the show that I felt that way about was the miniseries. After the miniseries, the show coasted on the concepts created there, eventually burning out in late season two. I assumed that the show's bold reinvention occurred because they'd recognized that doing a show about the goings on Galactica had run its course and there just weren't there stories left to tell. I thought that New Caprica was the new status quo, instead it's used as a stopover, to recharge the series and give it enough conflict to get going for a few more years.

Watching the New Caprica episodes brought back the feeling in the miniseries that this was a universe in total chaos, where everyone was expendable and people were forced to make awful choices. It was alive with chaos and slivers of humanity shining through the darkness. Because things were so bad, each small victory was a major emotional moment.

However, New Caprica never ended up going that far. We lost one semi-major character, Ellen, but most of the major changes introduced at the end of season two are already being revised, and I'm sure we'll soon have single, tough Kara in a rivalry with fit Lee for control of the vipers any episode now. Yes, Kara does have some underlying emotional damage, and her outburst to Gaeta was a great moment, but it was undermined by the fact that her cry for reckless vengeance ended up being what saved him. Jammer's death was a bit surprising, but I never really thought Gaeta was going to die, just because the show hasn't given evidence that it's willing to kill main characters. I can think of only two semi-regulars, Billy and Ellen, who died, and that drains the tension out of storylines. You have to believe that these characters are in real danger to make their world real.

There were some good episodes between the miniseries and New Caprica, but most of the time it wasn't about the gang on the ship, it was about the cylons, or the stuff on Caprica, and I think it's a mistake to return to this setting as a permanent status quo.

That said, I did really enjoy the Baltar stuff. I loved the weird design of the room he was in, though that centurion looked a bit artificial. In general, the effects suffered this week, I would assume because so much time was spent on last week's shots. The Baltar thread is what I'm most interested looking forward. However, I am curious to see how they establish the new direction of the fleet. Are the cylons still coming after them? Will they find Earth?

This episode was a necessity, to deal with the fallout of New Caprica, but it felt sort of perfunctory. I'm more curious to see what we get next week, when we'll presumably get a hint of the series' new focus.

Heroes - 'Hiros' (1x05)

A bit behind on this writeup, so it'll just be some quick thoughts on the most recent episode. This week continues the recent trend of tightening all the narrative threads and allowing the characters to connect with each other. I think this has helped the series quite a bit, the first few episodes were hurt by the fact that we got so little time with everyone. Now, we are able to delve in depth into three or four storylines rather than passing through seven or eight.

Clearly, everything is building to a convergence at Claire's homecoming. Before the episode, I had seen Claire's father as a bad guy, someone who was going to eventually turn on her and use her powers for some scientific purpose in his lab. However, this episode gave me the feeling that he actually does love Claire, and may not betray her to his bosses. The most tangible evidence of his love for her is the mindwipe he performed on Brody, this wasn't something that needed to be done, he just wanted to take revenge on the guy who'd tried to rape his daughter.

Claire herself has already shown a capacity for reckless violence, when they say "Save the cheerleader," they're not talking about saving her life, they're talking about saving her from 'the dark side.' It'd be interesting if she was the one who causes all the chaos we see in the pictures. Claire's definitely a wild card, and so is Nathan who seems to know a lot more about how to use and control his powers than anyone else.

The best moment of this episode is definitely Peter's surprise when he hears Hiro on the phone. It's a great moment, and has me very excited to see everything converge. I think it's smart to provide a climax early in the show, to keep things focused. It's all building to this event in Texas, and I'm eager to see how things develop from there.

Seven Soldiers: The Flaws that Make Perfection

If I could be doing anything right now, it'd be reading the just released Seven Soldiers #1. Alas, I have no car and cannot get to a comic shop right now, so I'll have to wait for the issue to arrive in the mail. I've done a quick skim of the critical reaction and it sounds like Grant pulled off the near impossible task of providing satisfactory conclusion for seven characters in forty pages. I'm currently rereading the series, about halfway through, I just hit Zatanna #3. On the first read, I wrote up extensive thoughts on each issue, but I wanted to do a quick discussion of how the project feels on the second read.

Seven Soldiers is a work that feels very special. I'm always charged after reading an issue, caught up in this narrative web that Grant has created. What makes this more exciting than a standard story is the interconnected nature of the narrative. You experience one small piece of this massive world, and a lot of the joy of the project comes from situating what you've just read in the overall context of the meta-narrative. That's a lot easier to do on the second read. I was confused by a lot of things the first time through, but it's easier to keep track of the seemingly unrelated occurrences on the second go through.

In structuring the series, Grant promised that each miniseries and even every single issue would tell a standalone story. He claimed that you could pick up a random issue and enjoy it, and while I'd agree that you'd probably be entertained, it's not really comprehensible. Each issue is standalone, but that's used more a structuring principle. He's reducing the fluff inherent in ongoing comics, removing the setup and taking stories right to the action point.

Look at an issue like Guardian #3, the theme park comes out of nowhere, but we get the idea of it in one page, and then it's right into the action. Through the flashbacks, we understand Jake's emotional context, everything is woven into the single issue story, I don't think a slow build was needed to make Jake's marital problems more effective. Grant uses emotional shortcuts to create the desired effect.

I've heard people criticize Grant's work by claiming it always feels like you missed an issue, but I think that's largely the point of these issues. He cuts out the issue where you'd do a slow build set up of the theme park, and instead sums all that up in one page and gets to the meat of the story. It's the same in Klarion #3, Melmoth sums up what's going on with Klarion, then it's right into the new story. I think these jumps might be jarring if you read each mini seperately, but as it is now, it feels like an Altman film, where we drop in on people at their interesting moments, then move away. So, the exposition in Guardian is happening while we're over with Zatanna.

Rather than each issue standing alone in terms of plot, I feel like each issue is a satisfying standalone reading experience. This is in reaction to the drawn out for trade storylines so prevalent in today's comics, where you don't get any payoff until the sixth issue of the storyline. Here, each issue has its own arc and leaves you with a lot of new material to ponder. The amount of thematic and narrative development in a single issue of Seven Soldiers is equivalent to what you'd get from a whole trade of Ultimate Spider-Man or Y: The Last Man.

I'm liking Klarion a lot more on this read. Once you know that Klarion is part Sheeda, it's easier to understand what Melmoth's trying to do, and how Klarion's rebellion plays into the larger story. I'd still say it's the weakest of these initial four minis, but that's just because the others are so good.

My favorite is undoubtedly Zatanna. This book is just perfect, a seamless blend of magical concepts, supernatural intrigue and very relatable personal issues. I get such joy from seeing Zatanna exorcize the magic shop in issue two, her skill shining above her self deprecating remarks. She's the character who feels most real here, and one of Morrison's most vivid characterizations in all his books. More than anything, I'd love to see Morrison write more Zatanna.

I'm planning on picking up 52 once it comes out in trade, because it features a bunch of the Seven Soldiers crew. I love these people that Morrison has created and I want to spend more time with them. That's the sign of a great work. Hopefully I'll get Seven Soldiers #1 by the end of the week, in which case it'll be a binge read until I get through the previous issues and am able to read the finale.

From Hell: Resolution

The dissection of Mary Kelly, and Gull's subsequent vision of the present, are the clear high point of From Hell's narrative, and the chapters that follow, with the exception of Gull's Ascent, are somewhat anticlimactic. However, there is some good stuff here.

The most interesting part is the further development of Abberline. Gull is the focus of the book, and the man around whom most of the important themes revolve. However, Abberline is a more relatable, human character. I can understand why the writers of the From Hell film chose to focus the story on him, though their Abberline has virtually nothing in common with the resigned middle aged guy we see here. Abberline's time with Mary Kelly reignited in him a passion he hadn't experienced for years, and it hurts him to find out that she left. Abberline had reached the point where he was ready to pursue a relationship with her, but he feels like she used him, took his money and ran. I don't think he's so much mad about losing the money, it's more that she represented the possibility of escape, from a loveless, boring marriage. For him, she was life, and now that she's gone, he knows that he'll be living the same life for the rest of his days.

It's fitting that he views Mary Kelly as an escape, because she's the only one who's able to leave all this business behind and actually build a new life for herself. I love the moment where Gull sees her, old and happy, surrounded by her children. In their names, we can see that she hasn't forgotten her roots, but she's not constrained by them. Gull's strike provided the impetus for her to finally change her life. So, she lives while her friends die, nursing dreams that would never come to fruition even if they'd lived for a hundred years.

The end of the book is about compromise and concession, people who now that their part on the stage of history is over. Gull turns himself over the Masons, content that his work is done. The vision from Jahbuhlon gave him purpose, he has fulfilled it and now he can go away. Similarly, Abberline, who once fought for honest, comprehensive police work, chooses not to expose the answer to the greatest crime in Britain's history. I love the sequence where he and Lees expose Gull, as well as Abberline's epiphany when he goes into the candy shop. He pieces everything together, but decides that he'd rather save himself than expose Gull. It's not a heroic choice, but I think it's the one most of us would make. I love the air of slight regret that hangs over the epilogue, neither one proud of what they did, but cognizant of its necessity.

I've talked a lot about the magic symbolism of From Hell, the right brain/left brain and female/male dichotomies. I think that's the thematic key to understanding the themes of the work, and also its place in Moore's canon. I haven't read A Small Killing, but from what I know, From Hell continues ASK's examination of the source of violence. However, in his later work, both comics and philosophy, this idea of the loss of wonder to reason becomes critical. Promethea is all about rediscovering the magic that's present all around us, breaking down the blinders that separate us from the magic in the world. Chapter 4 was clearly a major influence on Promethea, establishing the magical lecture that would also crop up in Snaks and Ladders, Moore's stage performance.

Looking at Moore's work as a whole, From Hell marks a critical transition. Much like The Invisibles for Morrison, From Hell announces a new worldview, one that the creator will explore and attempt to articulate through the comic. Watchmen explored some similar issues as this, the simultaneity of events through time, but never in the context of magical understanding that would go on to underlie Moore's most recent significant work, Promethea.

Moore's done a lot of books, almost all good. Among his output, I would count five masterpieces: Miracleman, V For Vendetta, Watchmen, From Hell and Promethea. It's difficult to rank them, but From Hell certainly stands as one of the most challenging, thematically engulfing works ever attempted in the medium. I love fiction that makes you work, inviting you to explore a world between its pages. Most books you read, you enjoy and then you put away. But the best fiction, like this book, buries into your subconscious, begging to be thought about. Through this work, Moore casts a counterspell, bringing back some of the wonder that left the world when Gull struck. By seeing through Gull's eyes, we are able to understand what's missing in our world, and I'm glad that people like Moore and Grant Morrison are fighting to restore some wonder to our lives.

Weekend Update

Seven Soldiers

This week, Grant Morrison's megaseries, Seven Soldiers, finally comes to its conclusion. I read all the books in June, and it's been a tough four month wait for the finale. I've started rereading the series and am loving it even more. Being familiar with the overall arc makes it easier to appreciate the progression of each series. On the first read, I was a detective, searching for connections. Now, I'm trying to sit back and take everything in. SS #0 stands up as one of the best things Morrison's ever written, as does the start of Zatanna. I'm only through four issues, so I'll have to speed up a bit, since I know once #1 is here, I'm not going to do anything else until I've finished the series.

More Morrison

This week also sees the debut of two new Morrison series, revamps of The Authority and Wildcats. Critical reaction isn't ecstatic, and I'll admit I'm not that thrilled to see Morrison taking on those two properties. I'd rather see him do some more creator owned work, hopefully his Vertigo series with J.H. Williams III will turn up soon. However, I don't think he could take on much more work now since he's got four ongoing series going right now. None of them have appeared in trade, so I haven't had a chance to read anything yet, but I'll certainly get them all eventually, and I'm especially looking forward to All Star Superman.

The U.S. Office

When the U.S. version of The Office first aired, I had just finished an incredible rewatch of its British counterpart. I watched the first two episodes, but it felt like a community theater group taking over for master actors. But, I keep hearing good things, so I decided to put my bias aside and take another look at it. I've seen those same first two episodes, and I was still not impressed. The thing that makes the British series work so well is its total realism. The characters and the actors playing them are indistinguishable, and the reality of the social situations is what makes the interactions so intensely awkward. I think the bulk of the people on the US show are pretty good, but Steve Carell just ruins it for me. Gervais as David Brent was not funny, but in a way you could laugh at. Carell is not funny in a way that's just annoying. Brent is a regular guy who tries too hard. Michael Scott's Hitler bit in the first episode is totally out of reality, he feels more like an actor playing a regular guy who's trying too hard. I'm going to watch some more, but so far, I'm not impressed. If you're going to be compared to a masterpiece, you've got to be better than alright.

Rescue Me

I wrapped up the first season of Rescue Me. I've mentioned before that I feel like today's TV world is like film in the 70s, and Rescue Me feels like one of those minor 70s classics. There's much better stuff out there, but this is totally reliable entertainment, hitting that balance of interpersonal drama played out against a larger canvas that's so popular for shows today. The supporting cast has gotten more fleshed out as the season progressed, and the addition of Laura to the firehouse did a great job of messing with the established dynamic. It's not quite gotten to greatness, but I was consistently entertained by every episode of the first year, and I've got the second on DVD, ready to watch.

New Film

On Friday, I start shooting on my senior thesis film. It's a twelve minute sci-fi piece about time travel, with a lot of crazy, Morrisonian stuff in there. It's the most planned out film I've done, and I'm hoping it will be the best. I'll hopefully have a trailer up online in a couple of weeks.

Battlestar Galactica - 'Exodus: Part II' (3x04)

This episode has a bittersweet ending, our characters are reunited, but not without high costs. But even more bittersweet is the knowledge that the show is finished with the best arc it's ever done, and may never reach these heights again. These five episodes stand as one of the best arcs ever presented on television, in terms of narrative scope, visual wonder and emotional intensity. They're redefining what's possible with the medium here, and the only complaint I have about the arc was that I wish it was longer.

These first five episodes of the season are like one big four hour movie, and this is the climactic final act, in which everything that's been building comes to fruition and the escalating frustration leads to mass chaos. Much like last week, the opening of the episode is the only real issue. The scene with Dualla and Lee is pretty lame, and clearly only there to set up their return later in the episode. I never really bought the relationship between these two, it seemed to come out of nowhere, like Christopher's marriage in the sixth season, but unlike there, they seem to be saying that these two actually are in love. I'm guessing Kara's return will mess with things a bit, but she's got Anders, so it would make both of them look bad to screw around with each other. That's not to say they won't, but I never saw that much heat between Lee and Kara to begin with. She far outshines him on screen, but I've never been a big Lee fan.

Anyway, with that out of the way we move into the devastating farewell to Ellen scene. Tigh is the character who's been most affected by his time on the planet, we can see it in the missing eye, but more than that, there's the unrelenting coldness. He's a warrior, and early in the series, he floundered because he had lost his identity in civilian life. Now, unchecked by Adama, he has become utterly uncompromising, and though it pains him to do so, he feels that he has to kill Ellen. It's really heartbreaking to hear her say how much she loves him, and then see what he's done to her. Very powerful stuff, and from a narrative point of view, we need a major character to die to provide some lasting effects of their time on New Caprica.

After this, most of the episode is a huge action setpiece. The scale of this is unprecedented for the series, and they completely pull it off, creating the best planet evacuation sequence since the Rebels left Hoth in Empire Strikes Back. There are images in this episode that just sear into your memory. I'll start with the stuff on the ground. This is the first time we've seen a ground battle on this scale, you get the sense that this entire society is collapsing, I love the ships flying above them and the constant presence of dust and particles floating in the air, like snow. There's so much chaos, but we're always clear what's going on, and that's the sign of a well done action scene. The best visual moment is the Galactica's brief entrance into planetary space, at that moment they know that it really is possible to get off of New Caprica.

Concurrent with this, we've got the fantastic battle in space. It was pretty obvious that the Pegasus would return, but for a minute there, I was wondering if the Galactica really was going to be destroyed. However, the Pegasus wrote in and in one of the episode's best sequences, takes a huge barrage of hits, splits apart and crashes into two basestars. The visuals they created here were so beautiful, particularly the hundreds of explosions on the Pegasus' hull. The opening shots of the Raptors were another highlight, as was Hot Dog's exit out of the Galactica through fire into planetary atmosphere. This effects work is so good, both in terms of verisimilitude and in the composition and energy of the shots. At times it was so beautiful I just stepped back in awe, but generally speaking, you're drawn in and totally believing the reality of the scene. That's what effects are designed to do, and the quality of these effects makes it embarrassing that Hollywood studios spend tens of millions of dollars to produce shots that lack the aesthetic quality or kinetic energy of what's here.

This action stuff is all fantastic, but there's two threads of particular interest. One is Kara. I love the chaos of the compound during the escape, which is abruptly juxtaposed with the anxious scene between Kara and Leoben. He forces her to say she loves him, but there's clearly some ambiguity there. When they kiss, I don't think it's all an act, and even when she stabs him, it's not a total break, she's leaving for now, but some of her feelings are still there. I like the fact that she got to kill him herself, and we didn't get the melodrama of having Anders see them kiss.

However, I have issues with the revelation that Kasey was a child that Leoben kidnapped. The whole point of the storyline was to show Kara breaking down and admitting that she loved Leoben, embracing a domestic life with him. If he kidnapped Kasey as a way to do this, it removes the ambiguity and makes him an evil guy manipulating her. She can't have positive feelings about him if he did that to her, and from a narrative standpoint, why remove that ambiguity? I'm guessing that they're going to have Kara harden up now, she'd let down her guard and wound up being emotionally crushed when Kasey is taken away from her. Now she's going to return to the Kara of yore and keep everyone out. I do love her silent sadness on the deck, as Kasey is taken away.

That whole deck scene is fantastic for, as I mentioned before, its bittersweet quality. It's a celebration, but all we see is the pain that people have gone through, Tigh in particular, but also Gaeta, who stands off to the side, awaiting the inevitable judgment for his acts.

That leaves us with the other standout storyline of the episode, in which Baltar finally stands up for himself. The crushing of Baltar has been an effective piece of these first few episodes, but I feel like we'd lost some of the Baltar of yore. Here, we don't see him make a full return, but he does stand up for himself and gain a bit of power within the cylon world. The showdown scene is wonderfully tense, most notably for Caprica Six's uncertainty about what to do.

Baltar and Six finding Hera ties back to the dream that the two of them had in the first season finale. Here, we establish that there's a clear difference between the Six in his head and Caprica Six. Six in his head affirms Gaius' role as caretaker for the child, the idea that he's the chosen one. Back in that dream sequence, she claimed the child was theirs, and I'm guessing his arc over the rest of the season will be to care for her in the cylon world. I'm not sure why he gave her over so easily to D'Anna, I guess he's accrued enough power that she won't take Hera and leave him.

On the whole, I feel like this episode marks the end of a fantastic run for the series, and, sadly, a return to the status quo. They seem to fluctuate between messing with the formula and returning to the basic everyone on the ship structure. Here we've got the ultimate return, and I'm just not sure that there's that many interesting stories to tell in that environment. I thought New Caprica would be the new premise for the show, and I think it was a mistake to end it so quickly. But, I guess the show is called Battlestar Galactica, so everything brings us back to the ship.

That said, I am really excited to see where Gaius' story goes. I think the cylons are easily the most intersting characters on the show, and Gaius is up there too, so the combo should be fantastic. How will he deal with being immersed in their world? ?ill they trust him, a human? And what further insight will we get about how they live? Very exciting, I hope he gets a lot of time each week, and doesn't have the couple of minutes assigned to season one Helo.

But, the show's uncertain future shouldn't diminish the impact of this arc. I was consistently wowed by what was shown here, always in suspense and frequently marveling at the beauty of the images they put on the screen. I think these five episodes stand with the best TV ever produced, and like the closing run of Six Feet Under season three, or Angel season five, give us a run that pushes its characters into new emotional territory, upending everything we've previously seen on the series. This is the best kind of entertainment. This is the best kind of art.

From Hell: Gull's Ascent

I've finished up the main part of From Hell, and after I read the Gull Catchers, I'll do a general wrap up on the book. But, I want to talk a bit about the more magical elements of the book, specifically the chapter chronicling Gull's ascent. After killing Mary Kelly, Gull's purpose is fulfilled and he loses the fire that drove him following his vision of Jahbuhlon. He winds up in a mental institution, rotting away in a cell with only death to look forward to.

The chapter begins with a nurse and guard having sex in Gull's cell. The whole point of Gull's subsequent vision is to show him completely transcending the limits of three-dimensional temporal perception. So, it's appropriate that his death would occur during sex, bringing things full circle. Gull's ascent begins with a vision of London where multiple time periods are visible overlapping each other. This image, on page 14.8.1, is virtually the same as a panel from The Invisibles 3.2, right down to the World War I era soldier leading the way. The only difference is Morrison has his characters represented as 'timeworms,' with their past and present stretching out of them. That idea was a critical component of Morrison's vision during his alien abduction, something that Moore chooses to represent in a different way.

As the chapter continues, we see Gull encounter a variety of people, clearing up some mysteries from earlier in the book and connecting his work with the past and future. I love the idea of history as an arch, with events that recur and speed up as time progresses. To Moore, the critical component of Jack the Ripper is the idea that Gull is subsumed by this mythic character built up around him. However, as we see in the newspaper scene, the reason that Jack exists is actually because of the paper sales created by 'The Monster' one hundred years earlier. However, Jack is the one who defines the idea of serial killer for future generations, and the massive media attention given to Jack is likely what inspired a lot of his predecessors, a number of whom he encounters during his journey through time.

When he sees these others, he is seeing people who tap into the same cultural archetype he built, however, they lack the awareness of mythological significance. For Gull, the killings were a magical act, designed to protect the world he came from. However, he was the last holder of that knowledge, in those who followed, the act itself is what is significant. The papers did not discuss why he killed, rather they were caught up in the violence and the fear. Gull himself became secondary to the 'Jack' character that built up around him.

Earlier in the book, Gull talks about the fact that gods are nothing more than vessels to which humans assign traits. As time has passed, we have stopped seeing gods in all things, like the nature gods that used to exist, and have condensed this mystical essence into one being. However, those gods that once were still exist, and as he dies, Gull realizes that he has become a god. Through his actions, he has transcended time and space and created an archetypal being that has shaped the world long after his mortal death. Jack the Ripper has become a recurring archetype, a god who continues to inspire fear more than a century after creation.

And like any god, it is belief that fuels him. In Promethea, we hear a lot of talk about the idea of belief as a prime magical tool to fuel change in the world. Without belief, gods are nothing. Jack the Ripper is worshipped through fear, so Mary Kelly's defiant cry to "Clear off back to Hell and leave us be," means that this god has no power over her. She avoided him before, by fleeing England, and now, years later, she will not let that fear affect her children.

But for the world as a whole, the belief is still strong, and each new serial killer is one who worships at the altar of the ripper. In the epilogue, Moore connects the culture of violence created by Jack the Ripper with the rise of Hitler, the ultimate proponent of a culture of death.

William Gull was the last of the old gods. He set out to use a magical sacrifice to the masonic god Jahbuhlon as a way to preserve the society he came from and protect it from revolutions both social and political. He succeeded in doing this, however, in killing these women, he also extinguishes the capacity for wonder. He created a cold, real world, where death is an obsession and the capacity to believe in something higher than oneself is destroyed. Gull bridges the two eras, he is a scientist, but has the capacity to find wonder everywhere in the world. However, he is the last one to view the world this way, and when he passes into the future, few people even notice him. The god is dead, only the sacrifice remains.

Earlier today, I came across a 45 minute video of a lecture that Grant Morrison gave at a Disinfo event. It covers a lot of his classic themes, but what stood out to me now was just how similar much of what he's saying is to what comes up in From Hell. He was working on The Invisibles at the time Moore was writing From Hell, they're both covering the same basic material, but address it in radically different ways. This is primarily due to their styles of magical practice, Morrison is a chaos magician, a do it yourself guy who likes to improvise. Moore is a strict formalist, who does extensive research and planning when creating a work. Morrison would never do a book with a forty page appendix, he's more about synthesizing life, history and other fiction to create his worlds.

'Gull's Ascent' has a lot in common with The Invisibles' 'All Tomorrow's Parties,' in which Robin spins outside of time, experiencing a variety of scenes as she moves towards Godhood. Moore's work is strictly structured, carefully fitting into scenes established chapters earlier, as well as into specific historical moments. The captions skillfully describe Gull's journey in the characters' voice, full of references to older magical texts. Morrison sticks within his own storyworld, and uses a more freeform, emotional approach. It's a bit sloppier, but gets the job done nonetheless. I prefer the Morrison approach, but I think the two treatments compliment each other wonderfully.

In this video, Morrison talks about the way that the linking of the two hemispheres of the brain turned external gods into internal voices, and what once was visionary is now crazy. This is the exact stuff that crops up in From Hell, though Morrison pushes things a bit further by claiming that today's multiple personality sufferers are actually the next step in human evolution. We all experience the world from multiple perspectives, but they are able to isolate and become self sufficient. Both Moore and Morrison would claim that trying to suppress this 'psychosis' is shutting out a potential window into magical consciousness.

The fusion of the brain has removed our capacity for wonder, in Morrison's pop magic, he says the first step towards becoming a magician is being able to see the world, observe the details and understand the connections that underlie ordinary reality. Once you step back, it's easier to experience the world like Gull does in chapter ten, seeing the wonder and magic in everyday objects. Once perception is altered, it's possible to take control of reality and sculpt it to your liking. For both men, fiction is the critical part of this.

The Invisibles and From Hell were critical turning points for each. When Morrison was writing The Invisibles, he went through the abduction experience and that new view of the universe has been the core of everything he's written since. Through his research for this book, Moore became exposed to magic, and declared himself a magician. Those ideas then led to Promethea, a work that takes many of the concepts in From Hell and explores them further. I feel like I understood the book a lot better after reading Promethea, which dealt with the symbolism and concepts underlying this work. For Moore, Promethea was an attempt to recover what was lost, and bring magic back into the world.

For me personally, the act of reading all these works completely rewrote my perception of the universe. It made me see fiction in a whole new light, understanding that a work could be more than just entertainment, it could be a magical act designed to rewrite reality. And it also made me more open to the possibilities of extraordinary, out of reality events, being possible. After reading The Invisibles, I went on something of a shamanic quest, which culminated with my first read of From Hell six months after. By the end, I was open and believed that magic was not something flashy, not something that is immediately evident, rather it's a series of forces that seemingly underlie the universe, and be it through prayer, sigils, or sheer force of will, offering up a desire into the ether will likely lead to its fulfillment. It only takes a belief that there is more to this world than what we can see.

From Hell: Chapter 10

I've read through chapter thirteen now, but I wanted to track back and write a bit abut chapter 10, the heart of the work and one of the most transcendent moments in all of Moore's oeuvre. The art and language of From Hell really immerse you in the nineteenth century world that Moore is exploring, and you're immersed so thoroughly that when Gull experiences our world, it feels utterly alien and cold. You see our reality from the perspective of this man, and it's a very odd feeling. It literally feels like seeing the future, even though what he's now seeing is just our everyday reality.

Beyond the surreal elements, the most striking thing about chapter ten is the violence. Very rarely do you read a comic that makes you cringe, but these images have deep power and Gull's dissection of Marie Kelly is quite disturbing to witness. It must have been a tough time for Eddie Campbell, to have to so meticulously detail what Gull did, but it ends up making for a segment that simultaneously dares you to look away from the gruesomeness and totally immerses you in Gull's mystical revelry. This is what all his work has been building towards, he is here to deliver the twentieth century, and he finds out that his quest to quell this female uprising has inadvertantly destroyed the magic that he perceives in all aspects of reality.

When I first finished the work, I posted on Barbelith with the idea of William Gull as the last of the old Gods, a holder of a secret knowledge that his actions are extinguishing. How do we reconcile this with his role as midwife for the twentieth century? I think this chapter shows the answer to this question. Gull set out to protect the society he lived in, and to uphold the traditions of the Royal family and the Masons, both secretive organizations who were considered to hold a mystical, extraordinary power. The Masons may be old men, but they believe in the 'Grand Architect,' also known as Jahbuhlon, the raw embodiment of all mysiticism in the world. In their ceremonies, we see a respect for wonder and the mystery of the divine.

Gull does not seek to destroy the magic he perceives in the world, rather he is seeking to control it, to ensure that his 'house' is able to put down this challenge to their authority. However, when he destroys these nineteenth century incarnations of Diana's priestesses, he is actually destroying all the wonder in the world, creating a reality in which people are all left brain, seeing a cold, oppressively real world despite the many objects of wonder about them. Essentially, he has cut off the connection between left and right brain, leaving a people who are groomed by the media to see not mystical vengeance, but cold hard human action. Jack the Ripper is a new kind of god, one who does not have any supernatural power, instead he is the fear archetype turned into a man. It serves the same purpose, but is based on purely left brain thinking.

Gull compares his work to the turning of water into steam. By killing these women, he is freeing their spirits to rise. They are able to leave the world before it becomes the dead reality Gull finds himself plunged into. I love Gull's address to the workers, imploring them, and us, to wake up to the wonder surrounding them. Ours is a world asleep, one that has advanced so far as to lose sight of something essentially human. The world that Gull describes is one that's purely left brain, the soul, that mysterious entity from which creativity springs, has been lost. While writing this book, Moore declard himself a magician and professed to worship a snake god. With this scene, he is addressing the reader, begging us to reclaim the wonder in our own lives.

In his final speech over the body, Gull talks about the way that he has made each of these women immortal. Again he uses the metaphor of a wedding, in this union of male and female, he has created a lasting myth that lives on long after the people involved have died. The union of male and female as the most powerful source of creation is an idea that Moore explores in Promethea 10, the 'sex' issue, where he writes about the essenitally masculine rationality and the essentially feminine creativity. Here, his final action has allowed Gull to transcend the limits of human perception, to enter the fourth dimension and experience multiple planes of time simultaneously. He sees the world that his actions have wrough, by symbolically extinguishing the feminine creative essence, he has doomed humanity to a rational world, devoid of magic. The burning of the heart is a visual symbol of this, what once gave life is now dust, disperesed in the air.

This vision is the bookend to his encounter with Jahbuhlon back in the book's second chapter. As Gull says, his life has peaked, and from here it's only the descent. This powerful shaman is now just an old man.

Gilmore Girls: 'S'Wonderful, S'Marvelous' (7x04)

Another week, another solid, but unexceptional episode. When Aaron Sorkin left The West Wing, you could sense that the entire show had changed, the voice and style were gone. Watching these Gilmore Girls, I don't think you'd immediately notice the change in leadership. Yes, there are more closeups, and a slightly slower pace, but what stands out most is the lack of vision at the top. I feel like the Palladinos had a very specific idea of where these characters were going, where Rosenthal is merely trying to keep the show interesting. He's succeeding, but this show used to be a lot more than just interesting.

Rory's scenes felt like she'd wandered into Six Feet Under seasons three and four. There's certainly some interesting territory to cover with her getting some new friends, people who she actually likes, unlike every other group of people she's hung out with over the years. It was odd to see Steve Guttenberg's daughter from Veronica Mars crossing over into the Gilmore world. I think these characters could work if they're developed and made to push Rory out of her comfort zone, in the same way that early Logan sstories did.

I think the Lorelai/Christopher relationship is entertaining, but it feels too much like fanfic. It would have been more interesting to keep Lorelai single for a little while. I feel like the Christopher storyline is too obviously headed to some sort of catastrophe, yet the way the show's constructed now, it's making Chris very sympathetic. So, there'll either have to be a sharp turn in his character or an unmotivated breakup. I feel like we're supposed to think that Lorelai and Luke are still the show's great love, but the actual episode makes Christopher seem like the right choice.

Ultimately, my big issue is that the season is not following up on Lorelai's character arc from last season, they addressed the narrative consequences, but not examined the deeper sadness that underlied her breakup with Luke. What they could do is explore the idea that she's just with Chris to fight her fear that she can't have a satisfying relationship. Chris is the ultimate comfortable guy, wealthy, known and clearly devoted to her. But, their uneven levels of affection will presumably undermine the relationship down the line.

That said, the Luke storyline was very good. April is stretching him a bit, and it's always good to see Sherilyn Fenn back. I'm surprised she didn't even broach the idea of Luke getting back together with her mom, I assume that will come up at some point. On the whole, Luke has been the character with the strongest sense of direction during the season, a nice feat considering the way he got messed with at the end of last year.

So, I'm enjoying it still, but the show isn't as strong as it was in the past two years when there was real examination of these characters and development of their world.

Asia Argento Video Diary

Concurrent with her promotion of a new film, Asia Argento is doing a video diary, making entries three times a day about various stuff that's happening to her. There's eight up so far, and they play as a fascinating piece of evolving video art, giving you a picture of the interior life of this successful, somewhat famous actress.

The videos are shot in a very haphazard way and seem designed to draw you into Asia's inner world, completely breaking down the barrier between viewer and subject. Appropriately, the first begins with her sitting in a bathroom stall, and subsequent ones observe her sprawled out in a darkened hotel room and taxi cab. She doesn't seem guarded at all, frequently filming while naked, but even more striking is the emotional rawness. I'm somewhat familiar with her work, and it's interesting to see someone who's been generally successful expressing such malaise about her life. The second video has a really striking composition in which she's cradling a TV, showing footage of her talking to her daughter about going on a trip. She turns away when her daughter expresses no particular interest in the fact that her mother's leaving. So, the TV becomes a visual representation of what's on her subconscious, that which she's trying to shut out.

That one's the most effective, though 3-5 really set a mood. She's just sprawled out in bed, talking about stuff, including a funny story about scalding her foot.

While these all look spontaneous and 'real,' it's possible that they were designed to feel that way, and everything she's saying is a put on. In one of the later videos, she addresses this issue by talking about the way that the qualities she's known for in the media are actually a persona, one she decided to put on when she was younger, but she's been living that persona so long, it's indistinguishable for who she really was. So, yes, what she's saying is contrived in some way, but it's an extension of this persona that she's already cultivated. People wouldn't watch the Asia Argento video diary to see her having happy times at home, they want this outre troubled person, and she must fulfill the obligation that her persona has created.

I'm sure most celebrities create these divisions between their personal life and the image they present on screen and in public. This was most apparent in the old Hollywood star system, where a gay man in real life could be dating women every night according to the gossip columns. Her adoption of this persona goes further because she has convinced herself that it's who she actually is.

Or at least that's what she's saying. It's difficult to separate the line between fiction and reality here. However, considering she grew up as a director's daughter, she was probably always accustomed to a smooth transition between fiction and reality, to the point that fiction can easily become reality. I get the sense that she's expressing her actual feelings here, though they may be a bit exaggerated. However, even if she's not, her 'persona' is, and for most viewers, that persona is more real than the actual person.

Heroes - 'Collision' (1x04)

The second best series on TV delivers another really strong episode. Sometimes I wonder if this show isn't just thinking of everything that will make the 'geek' audience like it and then just throwing it in, but hey, if it's a moment as cool as the end of this, stick with it. This episode also resolves one of the major issues the series has had so far, namely the hard to manage number of storylines. With more of the people crossing over, we can delve a bit deeper into each of the characters' lives.

In crossing everyone over, it would be easy to have them just create alliances and become a superhero team. I prefer this approach, which continues the series' use of Altmanesque structure. Mohinder and Peter have a fairly standard meetup, and actually get to know each other, but other characters just pass each other by, like Hiro and Niki, or the way Claire and Isaac sort of cross over.

The most interesting meeting is Niki and Nathan's encounter. Just last week, I called them the weakest characters on the show, but in combining, they become much more interesting. This is the first episode that lets Niki react to what's happening on an emotional level, rather than as part of a more convoluted scheme. Her storyline at first puts her in the role of a victim, powerless to control her own destiny. I love the moment where her son reveals an understanding of what it is that his mom does for a living, and is able to see through the fake identity she constructed to show him down to the person she really is.

In her interactions with Nathan, we see yet another mask, this time she slips into her 'character,' but, apparently feeling some actual affection for Nathan, is unable to go through with her mission. The scene in the elevator is great, clarifying the division between the two Nikis. Her alter ego is ultra-powerful, claiming exactly what she wants through threats of violence. It's a great reveal, particularly the idea that this Niki considers herself a seperate entity, allied with the regular Niki. I'm not sure which Niki went into the room with Nathan at the end, that's unclear.

That scene, combined with the borderline gratuitous Six getting dressed scene in that last Galactica, prompted me to think about how these actresses feel about being asked to appear in near nude scenes on a semi-weekly basis. In a movie, you get the script, see what it consists of, and have full knowledge of the role. But, how do you feel about getting a script and seeing it consists of a scene with you undressing, knowing this is something that the writers made up this week, knowing that you would be the one to act it out? There's got to be some weird dynamics on set, and I could easily see some showrunners deliberately putting their actors in weird situations to satisfy their own fantasies. In the case of Buffy, people certainly accuse Marti Noxon of doing that with Spike, and both Marsters and Sarah Michelle Gellar expressed unease with all the sex scenes they were asked to do. I guess as an actor on a series, you're placing your trust in the creators, and if you don't believe they're going to be responsible show runners, you shouldn't sign on.

Anyway, this was a really strong sideplot for Nathan as well. He acknowledges his powers, at least to himself, for the first time we've seen. And I'm assuming that his new scandal will in some way tie in to the stuff with Sylar and Claire's dad.

While they're struggling to deal with their powers, Claire and Hiro are enjoying theirs a bit too much. Ando makes reference to Spider-Man, and this is clearly the with great power comes great responsibility episode, where their reckless use of his talents leads to chaos. It's fun, and establishes the visual representation of Hiro's powers as a set convention, something that's essential to setting up the end of the episode. And, I do like the suit as superhero costume, a bit reminiscent of late Invisibles King Mob.

Claire's irresponsibility is a bit more damaging. I think the "Waffles!" scene is very effective in showing her trying to hide her trauma, amidst the constant chattering of her family. She can't tell them what happened, for a variety of reasons, and having to keep that pain inside is difficult. At times, the actress really conveys this, other times she's not quite up to it. Hopefully she'll grow into the role as the show progresses.

The final car scene is great, the show's first real demonstration of the dangers that these powers pose. I suppose you could read her powers as a metaphor for teenagers' feelings of indestructibility, however that doesn't quite work because she actually is indestructible. Claire has a lot in common with a Whedon heroine, being pulled away from the concerns of teenage life by her special powers. However, she's a bit more morally ambiguous than Buffy was at this point in her development, what with her attempt to murder Brody. Another really strong cliffhanger there, I'm guessing her dad won't be too happy with what she's done. The question is when he will step in to control her.

But, he's pretty busy experimenting on Greg Grunberg, in an exceedingly blue scene. I always love this kind of secret medical facility stuff, and this scene certainly recalls some good times on The X-Files. I'm guessing that his mission is to try to track down and experiment on all the Heroes. The question now is whether Greg will spend the whole season trapped, or if he'll escape, and try to build up a team of people to oppose him. Will Clea Duvall be a part of this team? I hope so.

I'm a little unclear on why Mohinder is so skeptical when he's going around with Peter, considering he pulled a crazy person in his approach to Nathan earlier in the episode. I'm guessing it's a feint, but I'm not sure why. I did really like the depiction of Isaac's visions, very impressionistic.

And the final train scene raised this episode to another level. I liked the way we started outside the train, no sound, just taking a visual moment. Then, it's inside, where time stops. I was guessing that this was the moment when Hiro had previously teleported to New York, but it turns out that it's something cooler, future Hiro has returned with a message for Peter. On the one hand, isn't it a bit early for Days of Future Past stuff? However, I'm going to forgive it because it's just such a cool idea, and indicates that the creators do have an idea of where things are going. Hiro has apparently lost the Japanese accent and become some kind dystopian ninja. Fantastic stuff, I've never seen another series doing something like this.

When I watched the first episode, I saw a lot of potential, and each subsequent episode has introduced interesting concepts and further developed the characters. And, it's gotten better with each episode, I'm really excited to see what we get next week.

Patti Smith @ CBGB's

This show was much hyped being the last show ever at CBGB's. I was going because I'd never seen Patti Smith in concert before, but the hype helped me out because we wound up getting a 3 1/2 hour long show, that tracked back through most of Patti's best stuff and a few well chosen covers.

I'm not much of a fan of the venue itself. I wasn't even born durings its heyday, and the only show I'd seen there before was a sparsely attended performance by two of my friends' bands, Phylum and Trip Mine Baby. It was cool that they were able to get booked at such a legendary space, but the space itself is not very good. There's very little space, and much of the floor is blocked off by the bar. Last night, there was a massive crowd and it took forever to get inside, for no particular reason, just that they were really slow checking names. I got on line around 8:30 and didn't get in until around 10. There were a lot of people buzzing around outside, and a lot of rock journalists on the line.

When I got in, Patti was already playing, doing a cover of 'Pale Blue Eyes.' For the next few songs, I struggled to advance to the main floor, but remained caught by the bar. It was really tough to focus on the show since everyone was talking, I'm not sure why they even went if they weren't going to listen to the music. The place was wall to wall people, and there were some contentious moments. A younger guy refused to let an older guy pass by, and when he did finally get by, the older guy said "You wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for me." Apparently, he was an early manager of The Ramones, or perhaps he was this dude's father. I got the sense that a lot of veterans of the club had made the return, people who had been going there since the 70s. Considering the shows they've had over the past few years, I'd imagine most of them haven't been back in a long time.

This first part of the show wasn't too good. I could barely hear her over peoples' conversations, and the songs themselves were generally more low key. 'We Three' was nice, but it's not the kind of thing that's going to grab a crowd. They played a nice 'Birdland,' then took a brief break. At this point, the people shifted and I was able to make my way up to a nice spot off to the left, not too far back.

I'm not sure if it was just that I was closer, but when they came out for the second set, it was like a whole different band. There was so much intensity in attacking the songs. 'Free Money' was an early highlight, turning into a lengthy jam with solos by Lenny Kaye. Patti was also backed by Flea of The Red Hot Chili Peppers, doing some strong bass work, as well as a lot of head swiveling to the beat. If Enrico Colantoni's ever looking to do a biopic, I think The Flea Story would be an ideal project.



Patti herself was a bit eccentric, telling a number of rambling stories, and frequently reading the lyrics to the songs off paper. She even had a book out for some of her own songs. Normally between the songs she would seem nervous, but once they got going, she'd get into the music and tear things up. The mic stand went down multiple times and no one can match her screaming.

'Gimme Shelter,' which they claimed to have learned "in the bathroom" the night before tore things up. It's a great singalong song, and they gave it a suitably epic quality. With the covers, there seemed to be an effort to present a cross section of artists from the period of CB's glory days. There was the necessary Ramones medley, as well as stuff by Blondie, Lou Reed, The Yardbirds and The Who. 'My Generation' is a song whose meaning has changed quite a bit, now that the people of that generation have gotten old. I know some people take issue older people, like The Stones or The Who, that are still touring and making music, but I think it's great. What should they be doing, just sitting at home, waiting to die? Even if Patti Smith needs glasses to read her lyrics, she can still tear it up better than people half her age.

I've been to a lot of concerts, but this is the first band I've see that falls into the 'classic rock' genre. I love the guitar sound of the 70s, and I think today's rock bands have lost the ability to go heavy without descending into chaos. On songs like 'Free Money' or 'Rock and Roll Nigger,' they had very loud, rocking lines, but it never descended into noise. That's what I miss, from work like Patti's or Led Zeppelin, the blues influence. I loved the way they allowed songs to expand and just jam.

For the encore, they did a roughly twenty minute medley of 'Land' and 'Gloria.' 'Land' was slowed down a bit by the lengthy rambling around the war in Iraq, but 'Gloria' was fantastic, with huge crowd response on the 'G-L-O-R-I-A' call and response. That was the highlight of the show for me, though 'Free Money' came pretty close. Things wrapped up with 'Elegie,' where Patti named various musical pioneers who've died. It was a really nice wrap up, and a fitting close to the night.

At three and a half hours, this was a pretty unique show. Patti played the vast majority of songs I'd want to hear from her, and the show only gained momentum as it went on. There was certainly a risk of being morbid and nostalgic, but I think the club went out on a high note, with songs that still sound fresh and exciting today. And I like the fact that Patti said that ultimately the space doesn't matter, it's the spirit. CBGB's had its time, but it's up to future generations to claim a new space for themselves.

From Hell - Chapters 8 & 9

In these chapters, Moore narrows his cast, and goes deeper in his thematic exploration, setting things up for the work's climax in chapter ten. One of the things that's difficult about this book, and V For Vendetta, is telling the characters apart. Back when there was a crew of four prostitutes going around, it was not easy, and one good consequence of the rest being bumped off is that we can focus on Marie Kelly and get a real idea of how she lives her life. Moore casts a very vivid picture of nineteenth century life on the streets, and the way that the Ripper murders have wreaked havoc on these women's lives.

One of the notable things about the work is its sexual frankness. Most comics and films hold back from really explicit stuff, but here nothing's off limits. That makes things feel more real. "I had such a lovely fuck with Joe last night" could feel like an unnatural line, but it works in context and perfectly conveys Marie's feelings at that moment, she's searching for any small happiness in the apocalypse happening around her.

Kate Eddowes' path to death shows again how easy it is for these women to fall through the cracks. They're all living life night to night, and one failure, the inability to get enough money to stay over night somewhere can doom them. I think it's interesting that the men in their lives never really comment on their profession. They must now that they're whoring, but I guess it's accepted. There's not many options for women, in their culture this is the only acceptable path.

One of my favorite pieces of action in the book is Gull's lunge at Kate on 8.37. he's becoming more reckless, the Ripper spirit has possessed him and made him believe that he is guided by divine purpose. I love the scene where he says "This is the one I didn't finish, isn't it?" He's moving outside of time, seeing himself as a figure acting in a grand history. This is perfectly exemplified by the panel where, reveling in the murder, he slips through time into the twentieth century. However, in light of this knowledge he knows that this isn't enough. His unease indicates that the mission is not complete.

At this point, Gull is becoming more enamored of the Ripper myth. He does not just want to kill four women, he wants to be a figure of fear for women throughout time. That's why he embraces the theatrical elements of the murder, leaving clues to taunt the policemen and build his legend.

This is explored further in chapter nine, in the great sequence where he makes Netley write a letter to the police. Netley's growing unease is an interesting thread. I think he's at first intimidated by Gull's knowledge, unable to believe that such a wealthy, powerful man would be doing something wrong. He bought into Gull's mission, but is becoming aware that all he's really doing is killing. Gull may see the cultural significance, but Netley sees only the blood.

Even as Gull is writing a letter to increase his legend, we see that his work is unnecessary. The Ripper has become a god, worshipped by all who write letters to the authorities in his name. And along with this are those profiting off the Ripper legend, like the man selling the canes in the opening scene. This is a critical part of Moore's motivation in the work, the idea that Gull's killings are creating a new media world, where murder is entertainment, and we revel in fear rather than creativity.

When speaking to Victoria, Gull invokes the fear of revolution to justify the killings. He was called into action to prevent females from rising up and challenging the prince, the male authority in the kingdom. Through his killings, he hopes to suppress this female power and preserve the status quo. This theme is reinforced by Gull's conversation with yeats, where he chides Yeats for breaing from masonic tradition and challenging the crown.

The thing that still troubles me about the work is the contradictions in Gull. He is fighting to preserve the patriarchal world he has thrived in, yet he has such knowledge of the occult, and turns each killing into a magical act. The killings become a fusion of scientific coldness and artistic creativity, making him something of a hermaphrodite, drawing on both the 'male' and 'female' traditions. Gull is working to preserve tradition, but inadvertantly is building an entirely new reality.

Abberline is also running to issues with tradition and modernism. He comes from the lower class, and can't stand watching the upper crust detectives who are using ridiculous methods to attempt to solve the crimes. He's tried to blend into their world, but finds himself increasingly drawn to the more 'real' world of Whitechapel. His encounters with Mary Kelly are perfectly observed in their sexual dynamic. He desperately wants her, but is too much of a 'good guy' to admit that he's acting out of sexual attraction. His eventual breakdown at the end, saying they could get a nice room, is a concession to his base nature.

I'm not sure exactly how to place the gay relations between Eddy and Jem into the male/female dichotomy. By cutting out women, are they reasserting the power of an exclusively male world, or is their engagement in a deviant lifestyle undermining the principles of proper society? I feel like it's more an example of the royal family losing sight of their mission. Upper class society is breaking down, it's on the streets of Whitechapel where the new world is being born.

The lesbian relations between Marie and her various partners clearly fall on the female, dionystic side of the divide. Marie has been in a stable, heterosexual relationship with Joe, but it differs from tradition in that she holds most of the power. As time passes, she moves away from tradition into increasingly outre sexual practices. She starts with a threesome, which Joe cannot be a part of. Through sapphic love, Marie is reclaiming the power that women once held as mistresses of Diana. By bringing a woman into their bedroom, she has stripped Joe of all the power that he once held. Creating a household with just women is the ultimate strike against the patriarchy.

The final pages of this chapter are marvelously forboding, it's easy to feel Marie's fear as we watch Gull draw nearer. Their meeting is what the whole work has been building towards. Gull is trying to protect his world, while Marie is reaching back to the matriarchal society that scares him. He must act now to extinguish this threat.

Marie Antoinette

Marie Antoinette surprised me because it's a bit heavier than I was expecting. The trailer and reviews made it seem like just a series of parties, but there's actually a lot of depth here, and that's both a strength and a fault. It hurts the film because it gets bogged down at times, and can't function on the characters and visual moments. However, on the whole this is an original, striking portrait of a world that seems totally different, but has quite a few similaritites with our own.

The film has a striking opening sequence, showing Marie's removal from everything she's known to go to France. We see her as a natural, rather ordinary girl, still petty and adolescent. She goes on a carriage ride to the Austria-France border, where she's transformed into a totally made up, fashioned royal. The scene perfectly establishes the film's central theme, which is the way that the strict social rules of the court threaten to extinguish the life within Marie.

This early scene has some of my favorite visual stuff in the film. The blue of the coach is gorgeous engulfed by the forest. Most of the film is set at Versailles, which becomes suffocating. There's just so much stuff in the frame that it overwhelms everything. I think that's partially intentional, but it becomes exhausting. I suppose you could make the same complaint about the Japanese cityscape in 'Lost in Translation,' but I found that environment more interesting than the palace here. I do like the return of the main character with her face pressed up against a window while driving, which is clearly one of Sofia's signature images.



Generally speaking, I'm not a fan of period films. I think people can get so focused on being historically accurate that they lose sight of telling a story about real people, and that's something that Sofia falls prey to at times. The one period film that was an unqualified success is Kubrick's Barry Lyndon, a film with a lot of thematic similarities to Marie Antoinette. Both are about the difficulty of navigating a very strict social environment, of conforming to custom at the expense of your own desires. What makes Lyndon so special is that we get the feeling that these are real people trapped in a bizarre world. They find the customs weird too, but nobody's going to stand up against them.

In Marie Antoinette, the best moments are the ones where we see Marie using her influence to redefine the rules of the court. The ridiculousness of their world is ably demonstrated by scenes like the first dressing and the tableau shots Marie and Louis eating. Louis is such a distant character, it's easy to relate with Marie's inability to get him to consummate the marriage. This is her one mission, and she's completely failing because he's off in his own world. The funniest exchange in the film was when Marie asks him whether he enjoys his locks hobby, and he responds simply "Obviously." She's trying to reach out to him, but he's giving her absolutely nothing.

At first, we see this conflict only from Marie's side. She takes all the blame for not making him want her enough to have sex. The letters from her mother make this desperately clear, she seems to have no allies in the palace. This reinforces the idea that she's a stranger in this world, and will always be an outsider until she produces a son. The film itself reinforces this pressure with scenes like the couple leaving the card game so that they can go make love more than five times, and also with the juxtaposition of DuBarry and Rip Torn going wild and Louis and Marie sitting perfectly still and separate.

Despite Rip Torn and Asia Argento's fantastic performances, this early part of the film is its weakest. The film spends too much time reinforcing the same points, and we too get bogged down in the malaise that Marie is feeling. DuBarry is a great character, but she never gets the chance to really do anything. The awkward conversation with Marie is good, and I get what Coppola's trying to do here, but I feel like we could get the same point and still lose five to ten minutes. Even though I liked the nod to All That Jazz with Marie's wakeup music, that particular beat was still played a few too many times. I feel like this whole half hour or so could have played better if it was played against some contemporary music and done in montage fashion rather than in individual scenes.

Much of the dialogue about the film has focused on Marie's shallowness, but I think her struggle actually had quite a bit of depth. Sofia's mission isn't to tell a history of 18th century France, so there's no need to give us a lot of context for what's happening outside the palace. Her goal is to tell the story of a girl taken from her home, placed in a foreign country as a diplomatic maneuver, and given the ridiculous task of producing an heir. That is her only value to the nations, to be a diplomatic object.

So, her partying and consumption becomes a way of rebelling against the task assigned to her. If he's only there to produce an heir, she might as well have as much fun as possible while doing so. And that's where the fun parts of the film come in. It's great to watch Marie clap at the opera and gradually watch as everyone else joins her. She is using her power to rewrite social custom, something that is also the subject of the "I Want Candy" montage, a tribute to her consumer excess, which becomes her method of rebelling against her set role.

I think a lot of the criticism for the film could come from the fact that it treats with seriousness the problems of someone who's got so much. I guess there's a tendency in cinema to reward films that deal with 'social problems,' like poverty and war, the malaise of an excessively rich woman doesn't exactly fit there. Yet, it makes sense for Sofia to tackle this, considering her background. She is essentially a princess, someone who could easily do nothing her life and still live comfortably, but she seeks to move beyond this role and claim an identity of her own. This is a film about celebrity, people who can buy anything they want except anonymity and the ability to return to what they once had. I don't see the film as "Paris Hilton in 18th Century France," this is a girl who didn't necessarily want to be famous, she had no choice.

It's notable that many of the critical figures in the film are people who grew up in privileged environments, not 'normal' childhoods. Sofia Coppola is the obvious one, but we've also got Asia Argento, another director's daughter. Kirsten Dunst was a child star, sharing scene with Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise at age ten. Jason Schwartzman is also a part of the Coppola family, and found similar early success. For a lot of directors, such as Martin Scorsese, it becomes increasingly difficult to find personal material to draw from for your films once you become famous. He couldn't make a film like Mean Streets today because his whole life is centered around the film industry. If you're working twelve hours a day on a set, it's going to be tough to write a 'normal' life. I'd rather see that disconnection from normal reality manifest itself in a film like Marie Antoinette, which approaches the problem in an allegorical way, than in another movie about making movies.

I think the film does a good job of displaying the simultaneous joy and difficulty of being in this sort of privileged position. Following the king's death, Marie turns the court into her own playground, doing whatever she wants and buying as much as she can. However, the film still shows the difficulty of living in the claustrophobic Versailles. Just watching those scenes I became uncomfortable, struggling to find the humanity in the excessive design and wardrobe. Two really powerful moments in Versailles are Marie's flight from the crowd, to hide and cry for her mother, and her desperate run to lie on her own and dream about Count Fersen. I particularly like her dreamscape of him, looking at her in the midst of explosions and battle. His exaggerated masculinity is such a contrast to the fey Louis.

But, those moments are rare, generally Versailles is a place of gossip and observation, where the slightest misstep will become the talk of the masses. The best moments of the film are the ones where Marie finds an escape, an ability to stop being the Dauphin and just be herself. The masked ball is a fine example of this, and one of the best scenes in the film. I love the design here, and the use of contemporary music feels completely organic to the world. Marie revels in her anonymity and we see her happier than she's ever been.

Even though I really liked the scene, I can't help but feel that it could have been just a little bit better. I was waiting for the film to launch into a really pop moment, but a lot of times, she seemed to rely more on the production design and wardrobe to carry the visual load, rather than the actual camerawork. The best moments in film are ones that make me gasp because they're just so stylish, or perfectly constructed to maximize emotion. I liked the visuals of the film and enjoyed the music, but there were only a couple of moments that really wowed me. The best moments in a film are ones that make me says "I want to do that" in my own work, and I didn't feel that too much here. That said, I don't think I have the budget for an 18th century costume drama, so perhaps that's for the best.

Despite that complaint, it was still a really strong scene. The scenes that I loved the most was Marie's time at her retreat. The nature shots recalled Malick, perhaps the highest compliment one can give to shots of nature. They also fit into his thematic universe, the idea that nature can be an edenic retreat from the destructive force of civilization. As Marie's leaving, she says she wants to wear something more natural, and she winds up in the plain white dress, a massive contrast from what she's wearing for the rest of the film. She walks through the fields and plays with her daughter, for the first time in the film, able to be on her own and be just a person, not an icon.

Throughout the film nature is used in this way, be it her ecstatic fall into grass after consummating the marriage or the scene in which she sits with two couples and watches the sun rise. That predawn hour looks incredible on film, giving everything a blue tint. It was notable that we never saw the actual sun rise, just the reflection of it in the pool. On the one hand, I wanted to see it, but their description of it as the most beautiful thing they've ever seen makes it impossible for any actual sun rise to live up to, and instead we're left with our mental picture of what it would be.

Then, at her retreat we get the wonderful scene where she and her friends are picking strawberries. This leads into her flirtation with Fersen and the ultimate consummation of their relationship. This is the time that she feels most human, she's gone through this weird ordeal, and now she gets to have her real adolescence, to experience first love and experiment with drugs on her own, away from any parental figures. It's like the archetypal college experience, only her order of development is screwy because of her royal status. Together with Fersen, she has an idyllic retreat from the world, moments that sustain her when she is eventually forced to return to the court.

The final chunk of the film deals with the gradual dissolution of the royal court. The film implies that it was Louis' decision to lend support to the American army that ultimately brought about his downfall. In the context of the time, it's the petty rivalry between nations that dooms France's monarch. He spends money that could be spent on his people to stick it to England, and that backfires in a huge way. The royals live in a rarefied world, it's easy for him to say we'll raise taxes slightly to justify the American expedition, but for the people on the streets, that tax raise becomes the tipping point.

I'm not sure if a contemporary reading was intended, but it's easy to equate Louis with Bush. Both are men born to great power, controlled by experts around them who guide their decisions. They each engage in foreign campaigns that throw the country into debt and result in a decline in popularity. Certainly the bubble around the royals has a lot in common with the bubble that Bush has built around his inner circle.

Our emotional reaction to the final sequences is interesting. In a traditional film, you'd sympathize with the underdogs and would be glad to see royal society breaking down. Certainly much of the early part of this film was concerned with the absurdity of the royal court. However, in the latter half, we see Marie take control of the court and turn it into a place for fun and revelry. It hurts to see her clapping alone at the opera, the first signal of her impending doom. And here, the "Let them eat cake" remark doesn't indicate arrogance, her dismissal of it is used to build up sympathy for her. I like her reading through the gossip column, debunking the myths about her, something I could easily imagine celebrities today doing.

With the peasants outside her door, her friends scatter, but she remains standing by Louis. After her experience with Ferson, I think she's ready to settle down, she's tasted love, but knows that it's not her destiny to be free. She has been placed into the role of Queen, and she will serve. This is a marked contrast from the beginning of the film, where she was eager to flee to Austria. I feel like the film is about her growing up, and in some ways, her arc resembles Pocohontas' in The New World, each is taken from their native environment and forced into a restricting civilization. However, through motherhood they get in touch with something essentially human that was hidden in the pageantry, and through this, they are able to accept a role within society.

The dining room scene at the end is notable for its emptiness. The entourage is gone, it's just Louis and Marie sitting in the dark. Outside, the sounds of peasant protest is overwhelming. They have little real power, but have become the symbols for all that is wrong in French society. Marie standing on the balcony, looking down at the masses is one of the most powerful visuals in the film, clearly illustrating the gulf between them. She has been raised in this world and has no chance of relating to the peasant concerns.

As the film ends, she is rushed through the masses to a coach, and winds up fleeing the place she came to at the film's opening. In the film's final line, she says "I'm saying goodbye," goodbye to the place, but also the lifestyle. The revolution signals the end of her class, and she knows that the bet she made, to marry Louis and be Queen, has gone awry. That was what the film was about, and this is the ending, we don't need to see her killed. Her world is gone, so her actual life is irrelevant.

I think the film's a lot deeper than the critical consesus would have you believe. Maybe it is Paris Hilton in 18th century France, but considering the world we live in, isn't a film that critically examines celebrity and privelege something worthwhile? I love the fact that there's no attempt to place her story in a larger historical context, we've seen that before, and I think most viewers will have a general idea of what happens after the film ends. It's a film about a critical moment of transition for human society and I think it does a great job of examining all the issues surrounding that.

Where the film falls down for me is in some of the execution. The actors all have different accents, and some of the dialogue falls prey to that clumsy period-speak. Some of Marie's lines recalled Natalie Portman in the Star Wars prequels, not a good thing. It also might have been good to limit the number of people in Marie's crew, she had a varying cast so we never got a sense of who she really cared about and who she was forced to be with. And I wish there were more fantastic pop moments like the scenes at the retreat. Not much in the first half of the movie really jumps out as a perfect movie moment. And I would have liked more music, particularly modern stuff. I think those songs fit perfectly into the world and would have preferred more of them over the period stuff.

But, the more the film sinks in, the more I'm liking it. I went in with a specific idea of what the film would be, and it didn't quite conform to that. However, I really like what Sofia did with it, and I think a second viewing would allow me to better get lost in the world that Marie inhabits. I'm not the biggest fan of period films, but this did enough to get past my prejudice and make these characters feel real. I also want to see it again because I missed Phoenix. Were they the guys with guitars singing to Marie, or were they in a different scene?

I think Sofia is one of the most interesting American directors now because she understands the fact that cinema is more about images and moments than narrative. She's a big Wong Kar-Wai fan and that really shows, Lost in Translation is the closest thing to an American Wong Kar-Wai film, and a lot of this movie's irregular narrative style recalls his stuff. However, to make a Wong Kar-Wai style movie work, your visuals and music have to be on, otherwise it can drag. For a lot of this film, it is, but the moments that aren't hold it back from the greatness of Lost in Translation or The Virgin Suicides. Like Wong Kar-Wai's Ashes of Time, it puts the themes that she'd already developed on a much larger canvas. Ashes of Time was critical in opening WKW up to more adventurous, free style filmmaking, and this film will hopefully do the same thing for Sofia.

Looking at her three films, a priveleged, but uneasy young woman is her archetypal character. Each of them is imprisoned in some way. Lux and Marie are clearly held bac by parental expectations and strict behavior guidelines. Both revel in defying these restrictions, and have brief moments of love before their worlds fall apart. Charlotte and Marie are both alone in a crowd, unable to relate to anyone around them, and the search for those moments of connection is what drives them. Visually, Sofia is concerned with rich environments, full of visual activity and detail. Emotionally, she's all about bittersweet, moments of happiness peaking through a dull, sad world. And the men in her films are generally ineffectual and distant.

In terms of developing her oeuvre, I feel like Sofia is going in the right direction. Everyone has certain themes that attract them, and it would be ridiculous to suggest that Sofia make a war film or something like that. I'd like to see her work in the present again, but she is able to make periods come alive, so I'm up for pretty much anything from her. The thing I would most like to see is her Chungking Express, a quick, stylish film to counterbalance the big costume epic.

But, it'll probably be three years at least, considering she's about to give birth to her first child. But, I'll be there to see whatever she comes up with when it's time to start again. The only thing I really ask is that she let Thomas Mars and Phoenix do the soundtrack.