MEDIA DIARY, FEATURING 'THE BOYS' AND A BUNCH OF COMICS

Welcome to my latest Media Diary.  Today, we'll begin with TV, and a series I just binge-watched from beginning to end. Here it is!

THE BOYS
Amazon Prime

Based on the cult Garth Ennis/Darick Robertson comic book series, The Boys is about an on again, off again clandestine team of deep cover agents whose job is, ostensibly, to keep a tight leash on the nation’s growing community of superheroes. These “supes”, as the Boys refer to them, are mostly affiliated with Vought-American, a vastly powerful private corporation that has its tentacles wrapped around everything from pharmaceuticals and defense contracts to movie production and a 24-hour news channel.

All of Vought’s disparate entities operate behind a ruthlessly enforced, corporation-wide, culturally “conservative” facade, infused with the sort of pseudo-populist, phony Christian “friendly fascism” with real-world echoes that should be all too familiar to anyone whose powers of perception are superior to those of the average jar of mayonnaise.

The Boys consist of Billy Butcher (Karl Urban), the hot-headed, foul-mouthed leader, Frenchie, the weapons expert, Mother’s Milk, whom the others look up to as being the most pure-hearted, the Female (of the Species), who is a deadly dangerous, psychologically damaged young South Asian mute who was drugged by Vought as part of a treacherous plan to [NO SPOILERS FROM ME], and Wee Hughie, who longs for revenge against A-Train, a speedster supe (and member of the World’s Greatest Superhero Team, The Seven) who, while freaking out on a dose of the specialist supe pharmaceutical Compound V (as opposed to Compound W, America’s most popular wart removal system), ran straight through his girlfriend, accidentally exploding her like a water balloon full of blood and guts.

Meanwhile, The Seven are also important characters who get a lot of screen time in their own right, particularly team leader The Homelander, sort of a psycho-fascist cross between Superman and Captain America. There’s also the newest member of The Seven, the relatively innocent and swiftly disenchanted Starlight, who coincidentally—some might say a little too coincidentally—becomes Wee Hughie’s friend and love interest after a chance encounter in a park.

I have long been a fan of the comic book The Boys. It’s an intriguing concept—one that was tried a few years before, with far less recognition and far fewer laughs, with the 11-issue run of the DC series Stormwatch: Team Achilles (a series of which I appear to be the sole surviving fan)—and the Amazon studios version of The Boys feels like an unmitigated success to me, even if it isn’t slavishly faithful to the comics.

However, where the series truly excels, even exceeds expectations, is in how it takes the comic book’s portrayal of the prevailing political climate of illegitimate Preznit Dubya’s post-9/11, post-T.H.E.U.S.A.P.A.T.R.I.O.T.A.C.T., post-Shock-and-Awe America—the often justified paranoia and distrust engendered by all those no-bid multi-billion-dollar contracts and unaccountable mercenaries murdering carloads of innocent Iraqis and the phony rescue narrative cooked up around “kidnapped” soldier Jessica Lynch and the very suspicious “friendly fire” death of former NFL’er Pat Tillman, all of which led to the rapid rise of conspiracy theorizing as America’s new favorite pastime—and updating it for the even more horrific, post-reality, anti-truth, proof-allergic, New Fascist International(e) America, full of brainwashed, Bizzaro World, “alt”-media sheeple who think that repeating their favorite paranoid, raging, Pizzagating Q-tard Youtuber’s rants verbatim proves that they’re independent, original thinkers who “do their own research”, all of which are hallmarks of the even more illegitimate Reality TV criminal/traitor Preznit Donald Trump’s ongoing pornocratic kakistocracy.

Anyhoo, I binge-watched all eight episodes of The Boys in one day, and the entire series just flew by. Oh, and just for the record, I’m totally ready for Season Two, and hope they’ve already begun to film it, because Season One ends on one hell of a cliffhanger. RECOMMENDED!

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And now, it's time for COMICS!

INHUMANS #1, 2, 4

Marvel Comics
Writers: Pacheco/Marin, Artist Jose Ladronn

Roughly three years ago, I asked the lovely folks at The Beguiling (my favorite comic book and art book specialty shoppe) to keep an eye out for a relatively rare, not-so-popular 4-issue miniseries, published in 2000, featuring Marvel Comics' THE INHUMANS. I wanted it for the art more than anything, an intriguing mix of European sensibilities (especially on the covers and splash pages) with a kind of George Perez style, economical, no nonsense approach towards propelling the narrative, punctuated with the occasional bravura action set-piece.

Well, this week, they found me three of the four issues (1, 2 and 4, as seen above)... and they let me have them for three bucks a pop! Talk about tenacity! Talk about a deal! Talk about customer service! Thanks, guys, I truly appreciate it.

MARVELS: EPILOGUE
Marvel Comics
Story: Kurt Busiek and Various, Art: Alex Ross and Various

I thought we were all done with Marvel Comics' reprint of their groundbreaking, Alex Ross painted miniseries MARVELS, but it looks like they decided to cap things off with an all-new epilogue, featuring another fully painted tale, set long after the finale of the original series' last issue.

The second half of this issue is jam-packed with cool extras that any fan of the series, the X-Men, Alex Ross or pretty much anything that has anything to do with Marvel Comics is going to want to have in their collection. And if you've held off buying this reprint series because you already have it as original copies and/or one of the collected volumes, you're at least going to want to have this issue to add alongside it, for completion's sake.

HOUSE OF X #1
Marvel Comics
Story: Johnathan Hickman, Art: Pepe Larraz

Well now, this is interesting. In the late 70's/early 80's, the Uncanny X-Men were front and center as part of Marvel Comics' resurgence into the forefront of comic book readers' and superhero fans' hearts and minds. They certainly played a big part in bringing yours truly back to the rack, thanks to their combination of spectacular heroics and diverse roster of characters, from the flamboyance of Nightcrawler to the grimdark heaviness of Wolverine, and from the softhearted powerhouse of Colossus to the relatable teen-aged angst of Kitty Pryde.

This was actually the tail end of the X-Men's heyday, after the awesome heights of the Claremont/Byrne era and before the descent into 90's cash grab proliferation of new X-titles (all featuring Wolverine of course) with their multi-cover foil variant #1 "collector's editions" (with print-runs in the millions, which actually made them the exact opposite of collectible). Personally, I haven't picked up an X-Men book in ages, with the only exceptions being Morrison/Quitely's New X-Men and Whedon/Cassaday's Astonishing X-Men.

Until now.

The hype around House of X (and its sister title, Powers of X) has just been so potent—with Marvel taking the unprecedented step of putting all its other X-titles on hold until these two series are completed—I couldn’t help but get sucked in. So I picked up the first issue, and now that I’ve just finished reading it… I don’t know how I feel about it. Surely that’s what the creators were going for?

First things first, for everyone who complains about how mainstream comics are too “politically correct” these days, House of X works as a pretty bracing corrective. This is a title that, with only one issue under its belt, has explored more politically incendiary and philosophically touchy areas than you’ll find in a week of the average 24-hour news channel’s programming. And the ambiguity of it all can be downright disturbing.

I don’t want to spoil things for anyone, but if you buy comics and you’ve ever had any interest in Marvel’s treatment of the whole mutant-as-metaphor issue, then you should definitely at least pick up this #1 and read it, then decide whether you want to keep up with these series. They’ll be coming at us fast and thick from this point on, with a new issue of either House of X or Powers of X being produced every week until September. Again, I’d love to know what y’all think, down in the comments section. I know it’s a pain to register, but come on, man… I want some COMMENTS!

SILVER SURFER: BLACK #2 (of 5)
Marvel Comics
Story: Donny Cates, Art: Tradd Moore

Wow. With the first issue of this five-issue mini (reviewed in this blog last month), Cates and Moore knocked it right out of the park, past the parking lot, over the interstate, and into parts unknown. If anything, the second issue of this series tops the first in every way possible. 

Visually, it’s even more gorgeous, with Moore’s over-the-top character designs and the fluid kinetics of his action scenes bringing Cates’ outrageously bravura ideas and notions to ultra-vivid life. This book is thrilling in the way that only superhero comics, at their absolute, rule-breaking best, can be. 

If you’re not already on board with this mini—which I suspect will come to be recognized as the single greatest Silver Surfer book ever, bar none, by the time it’s through—what the Christ are you waiting for?! An engraved invitation?! Buy this book! And get a hold of the first issue, now, before it becomes a collector’s item!

LITTLE BIRD #5 (of 5)
Image Comics
Story: Darcy Van Poelgeest, Art: Ian Bertram

From the first issue of this five-issue miniseries, I have made no secret of my love for Little Bird. The story, the artwork, the characters, the world-building, all of it. Now, as the series comes to its climax, although my admiration is undimmed, I can’t help but feel that all the disparate strands were singled up just a little too swiftly, leaving a certain level of uncertainty and confusion in its wake. 

Don’t get me wrong… it’s still well worth owning, sharing, and recommending. And yes, it still stands as the best comic book miniseries that I’ve had the pleasure of reading in a year or so. I’m also probably going to have to go back and read the entire series in one sit-down session to pick up on some of the details that I may have forgotten that would make my reading of the series finale more rewarding. I just find it’s kind of a wasted opportunity to have Little Bird finish out on what on first read seems like sort of a serious downer note. 

But who knows? Maybe I set my expectations too high. Or maybe my first read is somewhat of a mis-read. Please let me know what you all thought of the book, down in the comments section. Anyway, this still counts as a big time RECOMMEND from me. You’ll want to have this series in your collection. Also, the preview for Poelgeest and Bertram’s next offering—Precious Metals—looks pretty great, too.

MEDIA DIARY, MONDAY, JUNE 17, 2019

After finishing Cows last week, I started reading a novel that I've been meaning to read for a while now: Paul Beatty's much-ballyhoo'd satirical take on the Black California experience, The Sellout. I'd heard so much about this book, which was the first novel by an American—not just an African American—to win the prestigious Man Booker Prize, that I figured it couldn’t possibly be as good as its hype. Well, I’m about a hundred pages in, and so far, it’s better. I’ll get into why and how that is, once I’m finished reading it.

***

Right! On to comic books, then. Last Thursday, I had three books waiting for me in my pull file at The Beguiling. First up…

THE INVADERS #6
Marvel Comics
Story: Chip Zdarsky, Art: Carlos Magno

This series started out okay, with decent art and a story with some potential—I was particularly enthusiastic about the prospect of bringing the original, android Human Torch back into Marvel continuity, as I’ve always felt he was criminally underutilized, with a rich, intriguing backstory. However, the first arc, ending this issue, turned out to be seriously underwhelming, with a HUGE amount of build-up (in this title and others) wherein Marvel has been trying to set up Namor as a world-threatening force on the scale of Worldbreaker Hulk (from the World War Hulk storyline), and sorry, but it just ain’t happening.

Sure, Namor’s got the powers to be a real threat, and I can see how it might work on paper. However, as per usual, whenever Marvel tries to outright “heel” the Submariner, he comes across like a surly Eurotrash male model who can barely contain his contempt for the weak and stupid surface dwellers “with their Frankfurter sausages and pathetic inability to breathe underwater” or something. 

For five issues now, Zdarsky has woven a complex, mysterious tale full of espionage, intrigue, and hidden history. He had the Winter Soldier and Captain America engaging in high-risk underwater reconnaissance, but kept whatever they discovered vague and ill-defined because he didn’t want to spoil the surprise of the Big Reveal at the climax. He even went and retconned Namor’s “amnesiac” period, which has been an important part of the narrative carry-over from the Silver Age to the Marvel Age. 

And for what? What was the Big Reveal? I won’t spoil it for you, except to tell you that it involves one small coastal town in the state of Maine… and me removing this title from my pull list. Bottom line? I think this is the fourth attempted Invaders reboot that I’ve had to give up on in the last ten years. I won’t get fooled again. Probably.

***

X-MEN GRAND DESIGN: X-TINCTION, #1 (of 2)
Marvel Comics
Art/Story by Ed Piskor

Hip-Hop Family Tree indie comics sensation Ed Piskor’s ongoing project aiming to re-tell the entire X-Men saga as one long, continuous narrative has finally reached the point in that team’s storied publishing career where doing so begins to be extremely difficult, considering this was the era when the X-titles began to proliferate, and different writers were being allowed to take different X-teams—just a couple at first, then a small handful, most of which featured Wolverine somehow—in all sorts of divergent, impossible-to-reconcile directions.

It’s also the point at which X-Men became way more of a soap opera than it heretofore had been, with disastrous romantic triangles and star-crossed love stories a-plenty, characters making stupid decisions based on silly reasons, really convenient “magic” popping up whenever it’s needed to close a plot loophole, etc, etc. It was a time, it seemed to me, when longtime series writer Chris Claremont was getting bored of it all. 

Personally, even though it was the X-Men who got me back into collecting comics in the early 80’s, I really dislike this particular, post #200 era of the team. Therefore, I’m probably not the best person to be reviewing it. Here’s a link to a review by a chap who freaking LOVED this era, for those of you who want to know what an enthusiast thinks. 

I’ll be picking up the second issue of this two-parter, regardless (all three of Piskor’s series published so far—Grand Design, Second Genesis, X-Tinction—have been two issues long, as is the planned fourth series), because it’s a good deal for the money, it’s a handy reference guide to the X-Men’s fictional history, and I love the continuity guides contained at the back of each issue. I’m telling you right now though, I have NO IDEA how he’s going to figure out a coherent history for book two of this series, and in particular the planned fourth series. He’s going to have to leave so much out, some fans are bound to be upset. Like, how’s he going to deal with Morrison and Quitely’s New X-Men book? Or Joss Whedon’s Astonishing X-Men?! It’s going to be a logistical nightmare.

***

SILVER SURFER: BLACK #1 (of 5)

Marvel Comics
Story: Donny Cates, Art: Tradd Moore

Wow. Now we’re getting somewhere! Every single element of this beautiful new title is fan-damn-tastic. 

In an editorial note Cates includes at the end of this issue, he talks about being hired to write this title a while back and starting to work on the first issue, only to learn shortly thereafter that Stan Lee had passed away. 

It was no secret, of course, that Stan’s favorite character was the Silver Surfer. He said so many times. Upon hearing of Lee’s death, Cates says he took all the work he’d done to that point and destroyed it. He wanted to start from scratch, and create a story that was worthy of Stan Lee’s legacy, as his own, personal way to honor the man. I have to say, with his partner in art, Tradd Moore, Cates has definitely succeeded in doing just that. 

Silver Surfer: Black is everything a great Silver Surfer story should be; it’s tragic, poetic, heroic, beautiful, kinetic, and its pages are fairly vibrating with the Power Cosmic! As I did with other recent, superlative comics—namely Sobek and Little Bird—as soon as I finished reading this comic, I flipped to page one and read it again. It’s that good. BUY THIS BOOK!!!

***

Okay, so, what other “media” have I been grooving on this week? Well, TV-wise, I watched the third and fourth installments of HBO’s really quite amazing miniseries Chernobyl. Only one episode to go, and I’m at a loss as to where they can go from the end of episode 4. I’ll for sure be watching, anyway.

Across the pond, a new series starring one of my favorite performers, Matt Berry, has launched. Called Year of the Rabbit, it’s a hybrid of police procedurals and sitcoms, set in the Victorian era. Berry plays a brutal, thuggish copper named Rabbit, a London police inspector who looks almost as cruel as he behaves. 

In the first episode, Rabbit and his young rookie sidekick—forced upon him by a stereotypically constipated commanding officer, whose adopted daughter aims to be the first female (and Black) “lady-filth” on the London force—hunt down the murderer of a Parisian show-girl who was shot twice, then dumped into the Thames. East End squalor, full frontal nudity, quasi-Masonic symbolism and a visit with John Merrick, the Elephant Man, ensue, occasionally giving this series the feel of a loose adaptation of the classic Alan Moore graphic novel, From Hell. 

Anyway, I fuckin’ loved it, and can’t wait for the next episode.

Until next time!

MEDIA DIARY, MONDAY-FRIDAY, JUNE 3-7, 2019

Hey folks! Sorry I’ve been remiss in keeping up with my reading/media diary. Other responsibilities keep getting in the way. Of course, my absence from these pages doesn’t mean that I haven’t been devouring a steady stream of media—my reviews of all three episodes from the fifth season of Black Mirror are already posted, below—but still, I said I’d try to do daily updates, and once more, alas and alack, I have failed you. Oh well… on to this week’s mini-reviews!

***

COWS
by Matthew Stokoe

A few years back, I decided to try and find—and read—the most horrifying, disgusting, haunting, disturbing, downright traumatizing novel that I could get my hands on. It was part of an exercise, a challenge of sorts that I put to myself as a would-be writer of horror fiction. I wanted to find writing that did for literature what the New French Extremity has done for cinema since the dawning of the new millennium. And then, I wanted to figure out the techniques employed by said author, borrow them, then hone and/or amplify them, all so that I could eventually write my own stories, become a “success de scandale”, make a bundle of money, inspire a devoted cult of followers who would do whatever I ask of them, and ultimately take over the world.

Ambitious, yes, but a boy has to dream.

Anyhoo, one book that kept popping up on lists of deranged texts was Cows, the relatively short (206 pages) 1997 debut novel by British author Matthew Stokoe.

So I ordered it up from Amazon. And I read it. And, yeah… it’s pretty goddamn fucked up.

Cows is about a pathetic guy named Steven who lives with—and despises—his mother, whom he refers to as “the Hagbeast”. Steven also has a beloved pet dog, named Dog, who has to drag his hind legs behind him because of a broken back (the Hagbeast’s doing). The three of them live in an awful, stinking flat on the outskirts of an unnamed industrial city in England, being awful together. Steven believes the Hagbeast has been trying to kill him for his entire life, mostly by purposely feeding him inedible meals, which she always eats right alongside him.

As the novel opens, however, things are looking up for Steven (although this is definitely relative). After getting his hands on a television set, Steven develops a sense of hope and possibility from the way the people on his favorite shows live their lives. Basing his decision to rebuild his life on the examples they provide, Steven decides to become normal.

With that goal in mind, Steven goes out and gets his first job… operating the grinder at a local slaughterhouse/meat processing plant. There, an individual by the name of Cripps takes him under his wing and introduces him to a new philosophy, a new way of seeing the world, of being in the world. It begins with something sacred and transformative… the First Kill.

“These are your future, if you have the courage. They grow them in concrete boxes under ultraviolet light, they feed them on pellets of their own dead. These are urban cows, boy, man-made without mystery, and they have a gift for us far more important than meat or leather. It isn’t a gift they like to give, though. Not at all.” 

“What gift?” 

“The experience of killing. Of blowing out their brains and taking away their most precious thing. It smashes the walls you put around yourself, the walls other people put around you to stop you doing what you want. Do you understand me? The things you would do if there was nothing to stop you. Killing is an act of self-realization, it shows a man the truth of his power. And when you know this, boy, the pettiness they try to shackle us with falls away like shit.” 

Cripps threw his arms out like he was on a cross. 

“Killing frees you to live as you should.”

In short order, with a little help from Cripps (and a pneumatic skull-punch), Steven has performed his first kill… and it works. Cripps’ dangerous advice leads to Steven being reborn in blood as a Man of Action. It even gives him the confidence to engage with Lucy, an upstairs neighbor whom he’s long fancied.

For her part, Lucy mostly cozies up to Steven because she needs someone to help her operate the colonoscope she’s had smuggled out of a nearby hospital in order to prove to herself and others that her medical delusions aren’t just a figment of her imagination. But Steven doesn’t care. He believes that he needs a wife to be normal, like the people on TV, and he’s also confident that he can make Lucy want to be normal as well.

There remains one substantial obstacle to all this normalcy, however… the Hagbeast. Tackling her will be the great challenge of his life, necessitating his initiation into ever-higher degrees in the ultimate Secret Society of Killing, degrees far above anything Cripps can offer him. That’s when Steven turns to a new mentor… the Guernsey. And that’s when things get crazy.

From beginning to end, Cows is monstrous and grotesque. On more than one occasion, I was forced to stop reading, lest I become physically sick. The behaviors portrayed are lunatic. There are graphic, detailed descriptions of animal cruelty on an epic scale, torture, rape, murder, cannibalism, coprophilia, self-harm, suicide, and bestiality.

And yet, despite all that, it’s also surprisingly well written, and serves as an insightful meditation on the negative dialectics of authority and hierarchy. Furthermore, Stokoe’s subsequent novels have gone on to be translated into multiple languages, earn critical plaudits from esteemed peers, and win prestigious international literary awards.

So what are we to make of Cows? Did it live up to the hype? Did I learn anything from it? Will I be able to steal Stokoe’s techniques and bend them to my will in future stories of my own? Maybe. Who knows? Who cares? Probably not enough people to keep this review going any longer. And so, with that, I bid you… COWS!

***

SOBEK

By James Stokoe

Shortbox Comics, 2019

What’s this? Another Stokoe?! Yes, but a different one this time, not Matthew, the insane novelist, but James, the insanely talented comics creator who has brought us such beautiful books as Godzilla in Hell, ALIEN: Dead Orbit, and Orc Stain.

Sobek is a one-off from Short Box, a unique UK comics outfit with a box-based, or seasonal, non-subscription subscription model that I confess to not really understanding. Thankfully, that’s not a problem, seeing as my favorite comics shop, Toronto’s inimitable The Beguiling, has plenty of copies for sale.

Combining gloriously detailed line-work and a gorgeous coloring job on thick and sturdy archive-quality paper, Sobek is a thing of beauty, coming frightfully close to the Platonic Ideal of what every comic book should aspire to be.  I mean, just look at this splash-page!

The story is as simple as it is entertaining. The evil Egyptian god Set has invaded the city of Shedet, of which the benevolent crocodile god Sobek is the legendary protector. Set has taken up resident in Sobek’s temple, so a small group of citizens travel to Sobek’s mystical lair to let him know, and to beseech his aide. Sobek agrees, and they all make their way back down the Nile, where Set and Sobek face off.

The comedy in this book stems mostly from the characterizations, both verbal and visual. Now, I have no idea if Sobek really was the Dude Lebowski of the Egyptian pantheon, but it works out delightfully in this comic. The same goes for Set being portrayed as a cracked-out Wile E. Coyote type.

Bottom line, if you can get your hands on this book, by all means, BUY IT. I've read it through three times now, and I have yet to grow tired of it.

***

OCCULT PRESENCE

By Paqaru, Floating World Comics

The debut, digest-sized monograph by Spanish artist Paqaru, in which he creates paradoxically primitive yet fascinating environments that extend outwards in an almost mathematical way, then populates them with all manner of characters, from predator and prey, masters and slaves, acolytes and penitents, animals, monsters, people and ghosts. Paqaru’s dreamscapes and nightmarish architectures lend themselves surprisingly well to meditative wanderings, and serve as powerful creativity prompts. I would definitely buy a second volume of these artworks, and I’m excited to see what this young artist comes up with next.

MEDIA DIARY, SUNDAY JUNE 2, 2019

Today, aside from updating all four of my blogs, some substantially (Daily Dirt Diaspora, this one) and some, less so (Kubrick U, Useless Eater), I watched a couple of movies.

First up, the found footage, supernatural horror flick The Taking of Deborah Logan. You may have read about how this movie suffered from dismal preview audience ratings and was dumped by its distributor, only to be snatched from the bloody jaws of total obscurity upon finding its way to Netflix, where—surprise, surprise!—it found its audience.

All in all, it’s far from a classic, but it is a very effective, if workmanlike, specimen of its genre. And it does have a few elements that push it into the realm of being recommendation worthy.

For one, it’s chock-full of jump scares, which makes it a great date night movie. Also, it’s got some genuinely uncanny moments, guaranteed to inspire chills in all but the most stoic of viewers. And, most importantly, it’s got a legitimately awesome, courageous, balls-to-the-wall performance by the wonderful Jill Larson, who is utterly believable, both as an upper middle class matriarch dealing with the ravages of Alzheimer’s, and as a terrifying hag, possessed by the evil spirit of a serial murderer of children, a practicing black magician who was the town pediatrician way back in the day, before he disappeared off the face of the Earth.

A word of advice: If you’re thinking of watching The Taking of Deborah Logan, please refrain from researching it first. Every article about it seems hell-bent on revealing the best scenes, totally robbing them of their shock value. You’re going to want to go into this one fresh, trust me.

Next up, I watched Vox Lux, a film in which Natalie Portman plays Celeste, a talented, gentle, guileless young girl who gets swept up in the wake of a Columbine-style tragedy and rides it all the way to Lady Gaga-level mega-celebrity status. Jude Law plays the savvy producer who spots her potential early on, and both give career-best performances.

Written and directed by actor-turned-auteur Brady Corbet, who last gave us the magnificent Childhood of a Leader, Vox Lux also serves as the final offering from recently deceased musical genius Scott Walker, who provided powerful, experimental scores for both of Corbet’s films. Willem Dafoe provides sporadic “God’s Eye” narration, reminiscent of Kubrick’s use of this technique in such differing films as The Killing, Dr. Strangelove, and Barry Lyndon.

Vox Lux is nothing if not lofty in its ambitions, exploring as it does such varied topics as the continually evolving nature of celebrity in our surveillance-saturated, post-9/11, social media Panopticon world, as well as the moral issues involved in exploiting tragedy (or, for that matter, other people’s talents) for personal gain. It’s a film that asks what we all owe each other—friends, family, partners, strangers—in terms of responsibility as fellow human beings, being.

The reviews for Vox Lux were befuddlingly mixed for such a substantial, ambitious, and (I would argue) successful work of cinema. I suspect it suffered from comparisons to the widely-lauded A Star is Born. Or perhaps some of the critical ambivalence towards it might have to do with the last act, which definitely represents an extended formal detour from that which it follows. Despite this, Vox Lux is one of the more impressive films that I’ve seen in a long while. However, just as with The Taking of Deborah Logan, the less you know about it going in, the better.

READING DIARY, SATURDAY JUNE 1, 2019

H.P. LOVECRAFT’S THE HOUND AND OTHER STORIES Adaptation and Artwork by Gou Tanabe

Acclaimed Japanese artist Gou Tanabe is best known in his home country for his straight-forward manga adaptations of literary works by such internationally renowned masters as Anton Checkov and Maxim Gorky. In recent years, he’s applied his ample talents to producing sophisticated, respectful, black and white adaptations of the stories of H.P. Lovecraft, and the results—translated and made available to English speaking markets thanks to the good people at Dark Horse—are nothing short of astonishing.

This volume presents three of Lovecraft’s earlier stories, including one of my personal favorites that often gets overlooked in surveys of the gentleman from Providence’s work: “The Hound”, which is as deliriously decadent a reading experience one is likely to find outside of Huysmans’ late 19th century novels. Indeed, Huysmans even gets name-checked in the original text (which you should listen to here on Youtube).

The first story presented is “The Temple”, a tale of a German U-boat crew who fall prey to a cursed trinket brought aboard their ship by an odd British prisoner. After a mysterious explosion leaves the sub partially immobilized and a mutiny whittles the ship’s crew down to a couple of officers, a deep dive reveals what appears to be the remnants of an ancient civilization carved out of the sea floor. Could it be Atlantis?

The second story is the aforementioned “The Hound”, about two decadent aesthetes whose love of all things morbid has transformed them into a pair of veritable super-Goth grave-robbers. They spend their time looting Europe’s cemeteries for spooky treasure, and reading their flesh-bound copy of the Necronomicon for shits and giggles. That is, until the night they dig up the wrong grave, in the wrong cemetery.

The final story in this collection, “The Nameless City”, is also the shortest. It’s about an Indiana Jones type explorer who comes across the legendary nameless city in the Empty Quarter of the Arabian Peninsula, finding a passageway that allows him access to ever deeper and ever larger underground chambers, until he stumbles across evidence of an ancient civilization that was entering its twilight before mankind had even experienced its dawn. And judging by the bas relief and other sculptures they left behind… they were none too pleased about having competition.

Throughout all three stories, Tanabe’s versions are studiously accurate to the original texts, and the artwork is uniformly excellent. My only complaint being the book’s digest size. The small format occasionally makes it difficult to make out what it is, exactly, that we’re being shown. It certainly isn’t a deal-breaker, and it won’t keep me from purchasing others in this series, particularly seeing as the price is quite reasonable, particularly for specialty material such as this.

The last thing I’d like to point out is Tanabe’s excellent attitude about all this. For some artists, adapting Lovecraft can be a bit of a money-grab. But at the end of this book, Tanabe has a special message for his readers, which I will reprint here in its entirety.

A sleepless night. A presence at the door. A whispering, barely heard. An anxiety and fear such as you haven’t felt since you were young. An intuition of primordial death. Lovecraft was a writer who crafted such unknowable darkness—a priest of his own Mythos. I know fear even at the richness of his creativity.

By illustrating his stories, I intend to become an apostle of the gods he made. I do not feel my work is yet complete. The images swell in my mind. “If I draw it like this…” “If I do it this way…” I hear the divine voice, commanding me to continue.

I am blessed that you are reading this. You have my gratitude.

1014, High Summer

Gou Tanabe

READING DIARY, FRIDAY MAY 31, 2019

This week, yer old pal Jerky did a lot more watching than reading, and the reading he did get around to was mostly of the comic book variety. But all that TV watching wasn’t just an exercise in wasting time in front of the boob tube. I managed to revisit some truly inspirational, quality British programming, like the entire run of the surreal Christopher Morris series JAM, consisting of six nightmare-inducing half-hour episodes, featuring some of the darkest, most disturbing “comedy” ever produced for any medium.

But don’t take my word, or the word of Dangerous Minds for it. The show is currently available in its entirety on Youtube. Here’s an embedded link to the first episode. Watch it, and if you like what you see, the other five episodes are easy to find. But be warned! You will probably find yourself becoming upset at some point, regardless of how jaded you might think yourself to be... and you might not even be able to figure out why, exactly. That's part of JAM's bizarre, one-of-a-kind genius.

Other shows I watched this week include seasons 3 through 5 of Parks and Recreation, and 3 seasons of another, relatively recent cult British comedy show, Toast of London. This series, about misanthropic London stage and screen actor Stephen Toast, became something of a cause celebre after being added to North American Netflix, where it quickly established a dedicated fandom despite its low budget and relatively humble ambitions (which seem to boil down to “be funny”).

Starring the multi-talented Matt Berry and a strong ensemble cast, most of whom play multiple roles throughout the series, Toast of London is the kind of show that somehow manages to reward repeat viewing… or, at least, that’s been my experience. If you haven’t already given Toast of London a look-see, why not watch a couple episodes and see what you make of it? 

***

SMASHED
A STORY COLLECTION, by Junji Ito

As far as reading goes for this week, despite getting a bunch of work done behind the scenes at Unravelling Genesis, I managed to get through all thirteen stories in Japanese horror manga superstar Junji Ito's most recent collection, Smashed.

Weighing in at over 400 pages of intricately rendered black and white graphic storytelling, this handsome hardcover is a real door stopper, and a great addition to any horror fan's collection. It also happens to be the best of the three Ito short story collections so far translated into English, in terms of story quality.

Ito’s unique take on the supernatural, wherein he devises hauntings and monstrosities that exhibit their own internally consistent form of nightmare logic, is something that needs to be experienced for oneself, as third party descriptions will invariably entail spoiling the fun of discovery. Suffice it to say that, if you’re at all curious about Ito’s short form horror, then Smashed is the collection to start with, as at least half the stories are top notch, and even the minor tales often have something—a unique idea, or a startling image—that makes reading it worthwhile.

“Bloodsucking Darkness” ~ A tale of teen angst, unrequited love, eating disorders, and a novel approach to their treatment that involves vampire bats and surreptitious nocturnal feedings. Great imagery!

“Ghosts of Prime Time” ~ One of the collection’s lesser stories, involving two female comedians who gain a following thanks to their control over an army of ghosts that tickle their victims, occasionally to death (which can’t be good for business, come to think of it). Their foil? A brooding young man with no sense of humor, of course.

“Roar” ~ A unique twist on the repeating, ghostly event, in this case a deadly flash flood that haunts a forest valley. The story is interesting, but really, this is mostly an excuse for Ito to indulge his inner nature artist.

“Earthbound” ~ People are suddenly finding themselves paralyzed in awkward poses at the sight of the most traumatic moments from their life. To say anything else about how this story develops would be a disservice to both the author and the reader. An amazing story that would make a great addition to any high school English class textbook.

“Death Row Doorbell” ~ Straight-up creepy story of a death row inmate who is somehow managing to half-haunt the survivors of a deadly gang assault that he lead, which destroyed the lives of a family of five. But if things are this bad now… how bad will it get once the killer is 100% dead?!

“The Mystery of the Haunted House” ~ The first in a three-part suite of interconnected tales about Soichi, a strange man who operates a traveling haunted house attraction that harbors more dark family secrets than you can shake a femur bone at.

“The Mystery of the Haunted house: Soichi’s Version” ~ Part two in Soichi’s saga, wherein his origins are more deeply explored.

“Soichi’s Beloved Pet” ~ A barely-connected third part to the Soichi saga, this time examining a single event that helped make Soichi the monster he would ultimately become.

“In Mirror Valley” ~ Researchers explore twin abandoned towns on either side of a remote forest valley, where the residents pointed mirrors of all shapes and sizes at each other… but why?

“I Don’t Want to Be a Ghost” ~ And you won’t want to be one either, after you read this gruesome tale of afterlife cannibalism! Yes, I know… it sounds insane. Just read it and it will all make sense.

“Library Vision” ~ Edgar Allen Poe meets the first series of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure? Maybe. But probably not. Still, it’s an intriguing Modern Gothic.

“Splendid Shadow Song” ~ The collection’s least interesting entry. Which is too bad, because the idea of being haunted by a song that you can’t get out of your head offers interesting possibilities, and Ito would seem like just the artist to spin gold from such a concept.

“Smashed” ~ They really saved the best for last in this case (and named the entire anthology after it!). A truly shocking, tactile and visceral reading experience about which the less you know going in, the better. I will say, however, that this weird tale about a mysterious, delicious nectar made from the sap of a rare South American tree is the most Lovecraftian of the stories herein collected. I hope someone with balls takes a crack at filming this story, because that, my friends, would be something to see!

PS ~ Fair warning! As with most manga translated from Japanese into English, Junji Ito's Smashed is presented in its original right-to-left format, so as not to compromise the artist's original vision. That means the front cover is on what you or I might consider to be the back cover, and you have to read it back-to-front, and the word balloons run right-to-left instead of left-to-right, like in most comic books.

READING DIARY, FRIDAY, MAY 24, 2019

This Friday was an interesting one for yer old pal Jerky. I was summoned to a meeting of the Toronto Landlord Tenant Board as a witness on my landlord’s behalf, in an effort to help her evict a truly terrible tenant from the building where I live.

The tale of this nightmarish neighbor of mine is a long one, and I hope to eventually write it all down for posterity’s sake. For now, however, thanks to what can only be described as abject malpractice on the part of the sole adjudicator for the case, suffice it to say that the nightmare tenant “won”. This, apparently due to the fact that the adjudicator in question was in a big rush to get to the cottage this weekend, causing her to dismiss the case for “insufficient evidence”, roughly 20 minutes after she instructed the landlord’s lawyer to release all the witnesses who’d shown up, because “we already have their written statements” and hearing from us would have been “redundant” and a waste of her time.

So, what does all this mean? Basically, it means that my fellow witnesses and I now have to continue sharing our building with a dangerous, drug-addled lunatic with a long history of violent criminality… only now, she knows which of us are her “enemies”. Actually, everybody in the building wants her gone, but only those of us who did the right thing and showed up when summoned are likely to be targeted for reprisals. Yes, it sure is fun, being thrown under the bus by a massively incompetent city official!

I mean, seriously… is it literally impossible to evict someone in Toronto these days? We’re talking about a tenant who, above and beyond her recent involvement in a strong-arm robbery during which insecticide was sprayed into the eyes of an elderly woman, engages in non-stop, round the clock screaming fits in the hallways, and marathon door-slamming sessions that go on for hours. We’re talking about someone who broke into a bunch of other tenants’ mailboxes, kicked in her part-time boyfriend’s apartment windows, and has engaged in countless acts of wanton vandalism. The building bears the scars of her passing on literally EVERY FLOOR, with giant holes punched into the walls wherever there’s a doorknob that can reach. We’re talking about someone who has physically assaulted the elderly landlords! Elderly landlords who have gone through all the proper legal steps to have this lunatic evicted from their building, not only for their sake but for the sake of all their other tenants, only to be told: “Nah. Screw all that. That crazy, dangerous tenant gets to stay.”

What the hell more cause does a landlord need before they can evict a tenant? Hallways covered in blood?! A dead body?!

Anyway, the lawyer for the landlord has already filed an appeal of the Board’s inexplicable and indefensible decision, and myself and some of the other witnesses are going to be filing an official complaint about the adjudicator’s behavior at the hearing. I’ll keep you all posted about the situation, either here at the Mediavore, as part of my media diaries, or at my catch-all hobby blog, Daily Dirt Diaspora. For now, however, let’s get to the reading!

***

BLACK WINGS OF CTHULHU 6 (continued)
Twenty-One New Tales of Lovecraftian Horror, Edited by S.T. Joshi

“To Move Beneath Autumnal Oaks”, by W.H. Pugmire ~ The Weird Fiction community recently lost one of its most beloved characters—and sacred Keeper of the Eldritch Flame for the Pacific Northwest—the gentleman scholar Wilum Hopfrog Pugmire. A master stylist and a lifelong writer in the Lovecraftian vein, Pugmire is known for his evocative prose, and for creating the Sesqua Valley setting, home of the Shadow Children and the location where many of his stories take place. This short, funereal piece makes for a lovely introduction to Pugmire’s work, as it features a character he often returns to, the grotesque Simon Gregory Williams, a.k.a. “the Beast”, and an intriguing, semi-linear narrative about death, love, grief and incest (?) that would not be out of place among Poe’s mysterious masterworks. I will definitely be seeking out more Pugmire.

“Mr. Ainsley”, by Steve Ransic Tem ~ A fantastic, truly Lovecraftian tale, presented as an account of the first visitor that the titular Mr. Ainsley has had to his home since his wife died, ten years prior. When the visitor, a young, freckle-faced political canvasser, passes out within seconds of stepping into the house’s “unique” atmosphere, Mr. Ainsley takes it upon himself to make the young man comfortable until he comes to. Afterwards, the two carry on an awkward, increasingly disturbing conversation, which culminates in Mr. Ainsley’s insistence that the young man see the garden before he leaves. Tem is a veteran of the genre who’s been writing some of the best short horror fiction of the last four decades, and he really knows what he’s doing. The buildup of suspense, the way disturbing details are nonchalantly dropped into the narrative for maximum effect, the relentless narrative acceleration towards an increasingly unavoidable doom… it’s all masterful stuff. With two stories (and one poem) left to go in this collection, “Mr. Ainsley” is the best of the lot so far.

READING DIARY, MONDAY/TUESDAY, MAY 20/21, 2019

When it comes to magazines, I’ve been in love with them all my life. My first love was Cracked, followed shortly thereafter by Famous Monsters of Filmland. Then, as my age hit the double digits, I started getting into MAD, National Lampoon and Fangoria. My mid-teens saw me getting into OMNI, Heavy Metal, Creepy and Eerie.

As I transitioned from high school to university, I discovered Michael J. Weldon's incredible Psychotronic Video (full archive) and added SPY to my regular reading mix. By the time I graduated, I was a regular reader of Harper's, and when I moved to Toronto I started reading the excellent multidisciplinary intellectual digest The Baffler, the formally innovative literary quarterly McSweeney's Quarterly Concern, and the funniest goddamn magazine in the world, the half-comics/half-satire/all-hilarious VIZ, home to Sid the Sexist, the Fat Slags, the Drunken Bakers, and countless other ongoing works of demented genius.

I bring this up because it’s become almost impossible to track down newsstand copies of VIZ in Toronto nowadays. They used to carry it at International News shops, but now, they only do so sporadically, and at fewer and fewer locations. That’s why, a couple months ago, I decided to bite the bullet and subscribe... just like David Bowie!

And so, this week, after the obligatory 8 to 10 week waiting period... I got my first issue of VIZ in the freaking mail! And folks, let me tell you... issue #285 is glorious. It's, like, the Platonic Ideal of what an issue of VIZ should be. Eventually, I'll probably get around to writing something more substantial about this magnificent rag. I may even try to convince some of you to subscribe along with me! Or I might just have something to say about my favorite strips ("Drunken Bakers" and anything written by Barney Farmer), the best fake letters and "Top Tips" ("Empty paracetamol blister packs make ideal cryogenic freezing chambers for ants"), or other comedy tours-de-force (like this edition's feature, "Sherlock, Eamonn or Big John... Who is the Best Holmes?"). For now, however, let's just move on...

To the rest of my non-reading media consumption diary for the day! So, what did I watch on these two days? Well, I finally got around to seeing this year's Pet Sematary remake. As a great admirer of Stephen King's darkest novel by far—and as a qualified fan of Mary Lambert's 1989 film version—I don't think the filmmakers did an adequate job of justifying this film's existence. The actors are all decent (with the lone standout performance being Jeté Laurence's), the cinematography is adequately spooky, the score is sufficiently goosebump-inducing. There's nothing in particular that's wrong with the movie. It's just that we've already seen it, presented in pretty much the exact same way, with the sole exception of a highly effective mid-film tweaking of the source material that comes surprisingly close to redeeming this effort... until the film ultimately reverts to type and squanders all that disturbing new potential. I won't go into detail, but you'll know what I mean, if and when you watch.

Speaking of horror, I also watched the first two episodes of HBO's 5-part miniseries Chernobyl, a prestige TV dramatization of the 1986 Soviet nuclear power plant disaster in Ukraine. Chernobyl, of course, was an insane moment in our species' history, probably ranking just a few notches beneath the terror attacks of September 11, 2001, and (arguably) a few above the assassinations of JFK, RFK and MLK on the consequences scale. Furthermore, in terms of potential consequences, it leaves all those events in the metaphorical, radioactive dust. It's also one of the few historical events that actually unfolded like an apocalyptic horror narrative.

The first two episodes of this HBO series are, in a word, amazing. The attention to detail is spectacular, as are the performances from the vast, uniformly stellar cast of actors, known and unknown. Also, if you're at all interested in the history behind the show, HBO has a podcast that you can listen to after each episode, expanding upon details and divergences from reality on an episode-by-episode basis. It's a pretty good podcast in its own right.

Bottom line? By two episodes in, HBO's Chernobyl has the potential to become a crown jewel of this so-called Golden Age of Television that we're allegedly in the middle of these days. It's TV that educates, but also doesn't feel like homework. I have a feeling it's going to win all the awards, and I'm looking forward to the next three episodes.

READING DIARY, SUNDAY, MAY 19, 2019

I woke up really late today, sleeping through most of the day. It’s midnight, and the sound of fireworks is cracking through the weighty darkness of the overcast night sky. Haven’t gotten much work or reading done today. Instead, I’ve watched the final episode of Game of Thrones (meh), the newish Will Ferrell movie The House (meh), and a number of Parks and Recreation episodes. I really enjoy that show. I find it comforting and easy to like. Also, Aubrey Plaza and Rashida Jones both break my heart. And then there’s “Ron Swanson”, who is awesome. Aziz Ansari, Adam Scott, Rob Lowe, “Andy”… it’s just a quality show with one of the better post-Seinfeld sitcom ensembles I can think of. And it’s got a really gentle, positive vibe. Anyway, I’m three seasons in, and I’ll watch through until I’m done eating my leftover burrito, then I’ll read another couple stories from Black Wings, and that’ll be enough of that.

***

BLACK WINGS OF CTHULHU 6 (continued)
Twenty-One New Tales of Lovecraftian Horror, Edited by S.T. Joshi

“The Shard”, by Don Webb ~ This is a story about James and Bart, two American cousins and SF dorks whose families toured the UK when they were in their teens. Bart’s mom was a musicologist researching the “Birchester Sound”—an obscure late ‘60’s phenomenon overshadowed by the lads from Liverpool, being a mix of psychedelica and something called Severn Valley folk music—so part of their visit took place in Ramsey Campbell’s North Country Mythos setting of (you guessed it) Birchester and the Severn Valley.

One of the mementos Bart brings back stateside is a green and pink slab of tourmaline spar about four inches long. In the years following their UK tour, Bart’s IQ drops from 186 to 86, and his family has him institutionalized. There's no explanation for this sudden change, and James remains his only friend.

Bart dies in 2015 leaving behind a diary with the word “Glarky” written in it thousands of times and that watermelon tourmaline spar. Except that’s not what it was. James, being a scientist with access to labs, scrapes off a bit to test its makeup. Turns out it's mildly radioactive, made of radium mixed with boron silicate and a strange plastic that resembles DNA. Also, it was artificially extruded. And when you fall asleep with it in your hands… you dream. Amazing dreams. So amazing that James becomes a dream junkie, costing him his relationship, his job, etc.

The shard also records memories and plays them back. James goes through all the Bart recordings. Then he goes through recordings made by some British guy in a Birchester Sound band (the Titus Groans) who, while feasting on dreams/memories, decides to stop eating actual food, and slowly starves to death. Then the dream/memories go back farther… and the grand mystery of the shard’s true origin (among other things) is revealed.

See, it all has to do with an advanced alien civilization on a planetoid city with an ancient, titanic, “Class X” god-thing (the Unnamable) being held in a crystal prison of sorts, and the unavoidable residue of four-dimensional beings existing in a ten-dimensional universe, and it involves gravitons and consciousness and the disease called “religion”. Also, tentacles. And, oh yeah! The shard is, like, an alien armpit wart.

Eventually, it turns out the Unnamable was an early form of the being that eventually evolves into the spiny hallucinogenic space-godling called Gla’aki, and the alien whose dreams James is experiencing (now full-on, as though remembering his own past) has succumbed to the Cult of the Unnamable and secretly plans to drill through the Crystal Trap Door behind which Future Gla’aki is being held on his way to an execution that will NOT take place.

The story ends with James’ fate mirroring Bart’s. It’s an okay story, a good, quick read. And so, just for shits and giggles, I thought I’d put together a list of potential band names for practitioners of the fictional “Birchester Sound” (we already have The Titus Groans). If you come up with some names of your own, please include them in the comments section:

The Goatswood Trio 

Watermelon Tourmaline 

Voice of the Pines

The Syncops

Planet Blink

Paperback Discipline

Canlog'Y

The Herd

Ramsey's Commonplace Band

“The Mystery of the Cursed Cottage”, by David Hambling ~ A locked room mystery set in Seesin’s Copse, a woodsy part of Surrey, England, in the late 1920’s. Granny Attwater, an old lady rumored to be a hundred years old, is evicted from her small cottage home by a new landowner, Mr. Potter. She puts a curse on him then promptly dies. Wanting to prove the curse foolish, Potter publicly vows to spend the weekend alone in the cottage. He locks himself in… and disappears. Now, a police inspector accompanies Mr. Blake, a specialist in paganism, the occult and other such topics, and Mrs. Bellhaven, a Theosophist with “a gift for sensing vibrations”, to the cottage, in order to try and solve the mystery. A series of disturbing events begins with a gruesome discovery that indicates Mr. Potter’s true fate, and culminates with someone meeting their own horrific end, as well as a cameo appearance by the British version of our old friend Brown Jenkin.

“To Court the Night”, by K.A. Opperman ~ By far the best lyric poem of this collection so far (which contains an unprecedented four of them), this Poe-like ode to necrophilia is lush in its imagery and precise in its traditional rhyme-scheme and its flawless iambic pentameter. Great stuff!