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Kingdom of the Spiders (1977, John ‘Bud’ Cardos)
Kingdom of the Spiders opens with some scary music for the title reveal, then an original country song by Dorsey Burnette starts playing over the titles, extolling the virtues of Verde Valley, where Kingdom takes place. It’s a terrible opening titles sequence, followed by the film’s first failed attempt at suspense. Unfortunately, it will not have any successful ones. This first one, involving a bunch of spiders attacking a cow, forecasts the film’s lack of ability for suspense, humor, or anything whatsoever. I mean, there’s good photography from John Arthur Merrill and a handful of affable or inoffensive performances, but otherwise, Kingdom hasn’t got it. It doesn’t even have a kingdom.
After the spider attack—entirely from the spiders’ points of view, so we don’t know it’s spiders yet—the film introduces leading man William Shatner. He’s just a small-town, rural vet, but he carries a lot of sway. He could quarantine the farmers, and wouldn’t it be too bad if he did, what with the County Fair coming up? Shatner’s actually pretty good as the town vet. He and Woody Strode have decent chemistry, even though neither is doing a particularly good (or bad) job. Of course, Shatner’s first scene involves his widowed sister-in-law Marcy Lafferty (married to Shatner in real-life at the time, which ends up being awkward given the love triangle). Shatner gets to ride a horse and do his own stunts, so he’s having fun. Then Lafferty comes on to him because all the ladies love Shatner in Kingdom, only she moans her dead husband’s name (his little brother who died in “‘Nam.”). Shatner tosses her off him—not the last time Shatner tosses a costar violently in the film—and heads off, but not before shaming her a little for her behavior.
Shatner heads off to the state lab to turn in the cow’s blood for testing in what seems the set-up for a scene at a university, but the action just cuts to Strode and wife Altovise Davis having a quiet night at home. Strode and Davis are fine in the movie, but they give off big “Davis married her dad’s best friend Strode” vibes. Or “Davis married Strode in exchange for Strode giving Pa some acreage.” It never feels quite right. But then the movie treats them like they’re living in the thirties, so maybe Strode’s lying to Davis about the state of reality. So it would track, especially for Davis’s frontier woman costumes.
Pretty soon—in time to threaten the County Fair, natch—big city spider scientist Tiffany Bolling comes to town to see what’s happening with these spiders. She’s snooty to Shatner, who mocks her, but then once they’re working together, he just constantly sexually harasses her, sometimes physically, as he makes it clear they need to find the nearest bed or sleeping bag. Bolling manages to churn out endless expository passages while Shatner’s mooning at her, touching her, or otherwise distracting her. Bolling’s not exactly good. The writing on her part’s lousy and director Cardos doesn’t do anything for his actors, but Bolling’s got great timing. Up until she falls for Shatner’s macho charm, anyway. Until then, which is when he starts bossing her around like a possession, Bolling’s the only one who seems to know how to keep Kingdom moving.
Because, otherwise, it’s a slog. An intentional one. Cardos and editors Igo Kantor (the film’s producer) and Steven Zaillian (Oscar-winning screenwriter of Schindler’s List) belabor every action beat, drag out every shot, and just generally pace Kingdom like a slow roll through a rock pile.
There are some other surprises. Bolling and Lieux Dressler pass Bechdel in their first scene. They never do in any other scenes, quite the opposite, but it’s initially pretty cool.
Did I say “surprises” plural? It’s the only surprise. Except when Shatner flaunts Bolling to Lafferty almost immediately after telling Lafferty he’d eventually get horny enough he doesn’t care she’s his dead little brother’s wife, so he’d knock on her door. The longer the movie goes on, the less likable Shatner becomes. By the third act, you’re just waiting for a spider to get him.
Or for anything to happen, which it doesn’t. Except for a bewilderingly inept town panic scene.
With a better director, better script, better editors but the same cinematographer, and maybe even Shatner, Kingdom could be a fun homage to fifties sci-fi. Instead, it’s a dull, joyless turd.
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Blankman (1994, Mike Binder)
Blankman is surprisingly good. Even after showcasing its initial strengths, then taking a second act tumble, the movie picks itself up for a strong finish. Given the subject—a neurodivergent-coded man becomes a superhero—there are plenty of poorly-aged, ableist jokes. But the jokes made at hero Damon Wayans’s expense always say more about the teller, with Wayans usually having a good rejoinder. It’s often David Alan Grier, as Wayans’s older brother, who’s making the jokes, and Grier being a boob is one of Blankman’s standards.
But Grier’s a likable boob; he’s just rarely the most likable character in a scene. Definitely not with Wayans or Robin Givens. Givens is the love interest in a riff on the old-fashioned superhero movie love triangle: Grier’s the third wheel since Givens doesn’t know Wayans exists when not running around in his tights. The third act rushes through all the reveals (or skips them entirely) because it’s campy enough by that time it doesn’t need much reality.
The movie opens with Grier and Wayans as kids watching the Adam West “Batman” show, with already different Wayans (Wayans’s sons play the kid versions) stringing together all the metal in the house to improve the TV reception. Blankman’s got a lot going on with its superhero concepts. The movie’s an homage to “Batman,” complete with the spinning transitions and fight scene onomatopoeia, but it can’t do anything with the actual property. They even downplay Wayans’s gadgets, made with recycled junk, being “Blank” this or “Blank” that. They say it, but never with a wink to the “Bat” naming scheme.
Then there’s Wayans’s motivation. He’s inspired by personal loss, but he’s not a dark and brooding hero. There’s literally a place in the Blankman for that lousy Dark Knight monologue, but the movie heads happily—and successfully—into camp instead. He inspires the citizenry with his heroics and catches the eye of news anchor Givens. Grier works at the same station but in the basement on the tabloid TV show for Jason Alexander. Besides the unfortunate bald cap, Alexander’s quite funny as a loathsome producer. Unfortunately, some of it doesn’t age well, as Alexander’s in a wheelchair, primarily for sight gags.
Grier’s much more likable than Alexander.
Until Wayans decides to become a caped crusader, most of Grier’s time is spent flirting with Givens. Again, part of the joke is he’s laying it on so heavy he’s icky, but it’s still a lot sometimes. Once Givens gets to laugh at him, however, it all evens out.
The secret to Blankman’s success is Givens.
So the movie’s got the “Batman” camp thing going on, the recycled junk wonderful toys, a neurodivergent hero, but then there’s Givens. Blankman—both in the script, from Wayans and J.F. Lawton, and in Binder’s direction—plays Givens as Lois Lane… from Superman: The Movie. Only giving her more to do (there are also some Superman nods in dialogue from other characters). It’s an excellent showcase for Givens, who’s fantastic.
The other essential performance is Jon Polito, as the cartoonishly evil (and capable) mobster. He’s funny, absurd, and dangerous. And the film seems to know how well he does with the material, giving him campier and campier bits as things progress, with Polito knocking all of them out of the park.
Wayans and Grier are both good, to be sure. Wayans is something of a slow burn, not really getting to do much until his superhero arc has started. And Grier’s got to flex like he’s the protagonist in the first before sharing the back seat with Polito. The late second-act stumbles are mostly about how the film tries to get itself rearranged in time for the finale.
There are some missed opportunities—they had a perfect post-credits tag and didn’t do it—and some of the jokes, problematic and not, land soft, but Blankman’s an excellent superhero comedy. With a little more money (the special effects range in quality) and an impossible “Batman: The TV Show” license, it could’ve been a singular homage.
Instead, it’s still one heck of a success. Stellar performances from Givens and Polito, strong turns from Wayans and Grier, an empathetic, nimble script, and more than adequate direction from Binder. He’s not an action director, but Blankman doesn’t have the budget for it, and he gets the timing, both the performances and the comedy.
Really nice photography from Newton Thomas Sigel too.
Blankman. He’s not the hero we deserve, but he’s the one we need right now.
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Tomb of Dracula (1972) #35
Besides the cover art having very little to do with the issue content—the cover shows Brother Voodoo fighting zombies; more on that adventure in a bit—this issue is an exemplar Tomb of Dracula. Writer Marv Wolfman has time to go overboard with the narration and exposition while still fitting a full horror comic story into the still very serialized Tomb narrative. It might also help there’s nothing with the other vampire hunters (and Frank Drake’s appearance comes with an asterisk).Let’s get the cover (and Frank) out of the way.
Frank is still in South America, tricked into running a plantation by one of his old rich kid friends. Little does Frank know the friend now works for Dracula. I think. It’s been a while since this subplot started, but I’m nearly sure Dracula was behind it. Immediately after Frank got to the plantation, the zombies attacked him. He’s been on the run from them for five issues or something. Time means nothing in Tomb of Dracula (especially here, when Drac’s quest involves him averting his death in two weeks).
Brother Voodoo showed up last issue to save Frank’s lily-white ass. This issue is Brother Voodoo fighting off zombies while talking to himself. It’s much better than the adventures of Frank Drake, which Wolfman seems to be acknowledging by focusing on Voodoo.
That subplot is a few pages (and still one too many); all action with great art from Gene Colan and Tom Palmer.
The main plot has Dracula agreeing to perform four hits in exchange for the report about his impending demise (the two weeks thing). His employer is fashion designer Daphne von Wilkinson. She also agrees to feed him her fashion models but assumes he won’t be feeding on her targets.
It’s a good Dracula plot, as he travels around London meeting various caricatures—beautifully rendered by Colan and Palmer—and disposing of them. There’s a good, though somewhat pointless, twist at the end, and the whole thing is—no pun—a marvel of pacing.
There are some caveats, of course. Wolfman’s script ups the misogyny whenever it can get its hands on the dial. Von Wilkinson wants these men dead for stealing from her because they thought, as a woman, she couldn’t do anything about it. They all say she’s a silly woman, so they had to steal from her. Wolfman’s pro-victims. Especially since von Wilkinson’s so happy to give her fashion models to Dracula. Patriarchy says what.
Though Wolfman having a problematic diversion does just further inform the issue as an exemplar Tomb of Dracula. Wouldn’t want to have one where he’s not writing everyone being racist to Blade or Taj, or sexist to Rachel or whatever.
Thanks to the art, it’s hard for Tomb not to be a good comic, but it’s also a successful execution of the concept. Dracula’s got his big “Doctor Sun is hiding in the United States and killing me, and all he sent me was this postcard” arc, and he’s tiptoeing into it. Drac’s on a bridge, walking between significant plot points, and Wolfman’s making things interesting around him. The story moves forward easily; the peripheral scenery is compelling and fluid.
Very good comics-making here.
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Monkey Prince (2022) #1
I’m not up on modern Batman takes, but… has everyone just agreed he’s a dick? Monkey Prince starts with a Batman cameo, then brings him (and Robin) into it for the cliffhanger. In addition to him being a dick, does every new book have a Batman cameo for the sales? Though Batman’s only on one of the variant covers. Maybe you assume Batman will be in all DC #1s?Enough with the rhetorical questions; enough with Batman. Monkey Prince isn’t about Batman, though his initial cameo gives away some of the hook—little kid Marcus Sun wakes up one night and hears a commotion in the living room of his family’s Gotham City apartment. He stumbles out, wiping the sleep from his eyes, and sees Batman beating up on his dad. Batman leaves after making some bad parent judgments (really, how’s Jason Todd again?).
Marcus never figures it out, but it’s pretty obvious his parents are supervillains. They turn out to be science hench-people who leave town soon after, living in all the big DC cities before ending up back in Gotham when Marcus is a teenager. Unfortunately, he’s still got PTSD from interrupting that Bat-fight, which causes a panic attack at the swimming pool. He makes the mistake of bumping into one of the school bullies, who then pushes Marcus into the pool.
The school custodian takes an interest, trying to encourage Marcus to work past his trauma, something Marcus initially refuses. When he tries to do it himself, Marcus discovers he’s, well, a monkey prince.
The issue hints at a rich cultural history for the character—in addition to the teenage son of bad guys, writer Gene Luen Yang’s front and center about how Marcus’s Chinese heritage affects his daily experiences, including his bully further attacking Marcus for having a white mom. It gives Marcus some more ground situation personality, which helps since he’s mostly just having panic attacks this issue. He also meets his presumable love interest; so far, Monkey Prince feels like a new teen superhero number one. With some asterisks, sure, but Yang’s not deviating too far from the playbook.
Bernard Chang’s art ably toggles between action paces—the superhero action’s much different than the bullying—and the character drama. Chang and Yang pace it rather well.
The series is off to a fine start.
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War Story: The Reivers (2003)
I think I figured out why The Reivers, the first issue of the second War Story volume, doesn’t start the collection. Because you might stop reading the collection. It’s kind of actually bad, but it’s also a slog. Writer Garth Ennis churns out dialogue to get through the comic. The artist is Cam Kennedy, who has the same expression for all of the talking heads. He’s slightly better at the action? But there’s minimal action. And it’s also very aggrandized.Kennedy draws Reivers like it’s an exciting adventure outing about an elite squad of British troops in the North African campaign. They’re the ones you call when you need to the ultra-violence. Most of the comic is the commanding officer talking to his sidekick about how they’re descended from the Reivers of yore, a practically mythological band of vicious warriors. We have to sit through at least a page of the commanding officer blathering about how the Reiver blood has traveled the globe, which explains why their outfit is so good, even though the men are from different places.
The sidekick basically rolls his eyes but in dialogue. Like another half-page to disagree.
Did Vertigo stick Ennis with what they thought would be more popular artists in an effort to bring up sales? If so, did Ennis intentionally write such a tepid comic for Kennedy to draw? Or did Ennis write this talky, sophomoric outing, and then they assigned it to Kennedy to… spice it up? Or was it a loser script so they got an artist who wouldn’t suffer? Maybe it was Ennis’s attempt at writing a stage play, and he’s just bad at it. The story behind Reivers is potentially so much more interesting than the book itself.
Eventually, the men go back into battle, and they have a reckoning. It’s slightly absurdist—Reivers feels like a more serious spin-off of Adventures in the Rifle Brigade while also forecasting Punisher: Born. Some of the commanding officer’s descriptions of his blood thirst sound a lot like Born. In other words, Reivers is very much at home with Ennis’s most middling works.
It opens with a silent sequence long enough I wondered if they were doing the story without dialogue. Little did I know it’d be more dialogue than the rest of the books combined. Big kudos to letterer Clem Robins. He did the best work on this one. But I’m getting scared for the last two War Story entries. The quality of the second volume so far is great and tripe. No in-between.