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Shadows on the Grave (2016) #4

Okay, so this issue’s the best so far. In addition to the three strong stories (with guest writer Jan Strnad again contributing, this time a better tale), the issue’s got three one-pagers. Inside covers, back cover. Basically a pin-up punchline with a small panel setting it up, Mag the Hag narrating. They’re all good. The one-pagers are all good, the opening story’s awesome, the Strnad collaboration’s good, the Ancient Greek entry’s fan-flipping-tactic.
The opening story is about a pickpocket at the circus. He’s trying to score, but there’s just not much visible cash floating around. Plus, he keeps seeing this particularly creepy clown decoration all around the place. The pickpocket’s industrious, though, and he’s not going to give it up, even if he has to get his hands bloody. Richard Corben’s art and his pulpy script set the tone for the whole issue. Lots of darks for people (and clowns) to get lost in, but also bright refuges in that dark.
It’s a great little tale, eight pages. Two eight-page stories, double that count for the Ancient Greek story. It’s the right formula, especially since—in theory—Corben could connect the one-liners. But Shadows is definitely hearing me from the future as far as story lengths. This issue’s perfectly balanced.
Strnad’s story involves a bodybuilder frustrated at repeatedly losing to an Arnold Schwarzenegger analog. The bodybuilder hears about some special steroid and is willing to do whatever it takes to get it, regardless of cost to his soul.
It’s a more straightforward story than the opener, instead concentrating on some outstanding art from Corben. The story gives him some strange opportunities to (no pun, it just happens to be the story’s title, too) flex.
Then the coup de grâce, chapter four of Deneaus. It hasn’t been collected by itself, which is a shame. I’m very interested in how it’d read in a sitting.
This issue has Lustea, the Amazonian in love with dopey Deneaus, getting to the other side of the same island he’s questing on. She’s hanging out with her ninja friend, who takes her home to her village, where they talk ominously about things for later in the story. Not this issue matters, except magical weapons. They can’t miss. It’s important before the end of the chapter because Corben’s not wasting any time getting to the cyclops fight. Deneaus and his royal rube charge have their showdown with the great beast.
Ancient Greek soldiers versus cyclops, with a bit of comedy but also ultra-violence, apparently perfectly fits Corben’s very particular set of skills. There are black nights and bright days in the story, both incredibly full (and contrasted in a way similar to the opening circus story). The action is fast and fierce, and the comedy is sardonic. Excellent writing from Corben. This entry fulfills and surpasses my hopes for the Greek epic.
Shadows finishes its first half on a series high. It’s such a good issue.
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Red Room: Trigger Warnings (2022) #4

Creator Ed Piskor ends Trigger Warnings with his most impressive writing on Red Room so far, and there’s been a lot of excellent writing. He does the issue as an anthology, skipping around an assortment of characters. Some are returnees, like Levee, the hacker from the first series. Before the narrator (the Cryptokeeper, who I’ve missed, it turns out) gets to the next story, setting up the anthology format, it seems like the whole issue will be about Levee’s coding difficulties. So like a procedural issue.
Only Piskor’s not interested in the technical details. When Levee’s around, it’s mostly about him since last series. The most obvious change is in his marriage. Between Levee’s issue last series and this issue, he and his wife have broken up. Only since he kicked her out over her Red Room obsession, it’s not like he can tell the cops. She still wants to reconcile, but she also can’t stop watching.
Then there are some surprise returning characters from Trigger Warnings, who Piskor uses for some contrast and tension, but also to establish (or maybe partially deny) Red Room’s timeline. We’re assuming when things are taking place, something Piskor hasn’t dissuaded, but now time definitely affects things.
Two of the new characters are celebrity analogs; first, the wife of a prominent wealthy guy aerospace designer, but she plays like she’s married to Bill Gates. The husband’s name is even Billy. She’s an evil rich white lady who watches torture exhibits. The big streamer this issue is Mr. NFT, who poses corpses in grotesque ways.
Then there’s a Mr. Rogers stand-in, which is maybe the only time I’ve ever felt like Piskor crossed a line with the commentary about the rich and powerful. Mr. Rogers being a snuff film enthusiast isn’t a good punchline. Piskor confuses the matter–seemingly intentionally—by naming the character “Mr. Gump” and instead bringing Tom Hanks to mind.
Though Tom Hanks played Mr. Rogers too.
It’s a masterful issue, just great, imaginative, horrifying work from Piskor page after page. The last story feels like a final issue for the whole series; only Piskor’s doing more, which is fantastic news.
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American Gothic (1995) s01e07 – Meet the Beetles
I’m not sure what iteration of “Make Bruce Campbell Happen” his guest appearance on “Gothic” fits in, but I was expecting more of a showcase. Campbell’s a state cop come to town at the behest of his sister (Derin Altay); her husband’s missing, and she’s convinced he’s been running around with Brenda Bakke. When sheriff Gary Cole doesn’t take Altay seriously, she calls in Campbell. Campbell immediately suspects Cole of being jealous over sort of girlfriend Bakke having other male attention and starts investigating him.
The episode opens with Lucas Black and his best friend, Christopher Fennell, traipsing around Black’s old, now burned-down house. They find a skeleton (and Sarah Paulson’s old doll), with the skeleton turning out to be Altay’s missing husband. Except he’s only been gone a couple days, nowhere near enough time for the decomposition.
Pretty quickly, both Turco and Cole realize the skeletal status of the deceased has to do with Beetles. The local, exceptionally creepy natural history museum is basically an excuse for boss Selene Smith and her staff to feed carcasses to the beetles and get shiny bones in return. Smith’s fascination comes off as obsessive, whereas Turco and Campbell both think bugs are gross. Cole doesn’t seem to mind them, though we also don’t get any scenes of him controlling them or anything demonic.
We do more of a look into Cole and Bakke’s relationship. He’s nowhere near as in control of her as previous episodes have suggested; Bakke’s character arc is the show’s second most impressive at this point. Black gets the number one spot (his arc this episode weaves through the police procedural), then Bakke, then probably Nick Searcy (who’s not around this episode at all), then Sarah Paulson (who’s got very little here, but it’s all vital) then incompletes for everyone else so far. While there is an exposition dump between Jake Weber and Turco before the opening titles, Weber disappears at that point. What with a special guest star and an actual mystery, no reason to keep doctor Weber around. Wait, maybe Weber’s there for the autopsy, then disappears. He’s definitely gone once the bugs take off.
Oddly, the episode calls back to that opening conversation between Weber and Turco at the end—she’d had an offer to cover a major story in Charleston, meaning she’d have to leave the show—when it turns out the offer’s somehow a Cole machination. Only there’s no explanation of how or why. Victor Bumbalo and David Chisholm get the writing credit for this episode, and there’s a big swing in quality. Not to mention the icky way dudes talk about Turco and Bakke, which is even worse when you think about how it’s probably sanitized what women would’ve gone through in the nineties South.
Despite the terrible video montages, the episode’s fairly good-looking. Director Michael Nankin does a little better with Bakke’s falsely accused femme fatale arc than Turco’s amateur investigation. Black’s arc fits somewhere in the middle; despite the excellent acting, Black’s treading water this episode.
It’s a real good episode. Probably Turco’s best performance so far, with great work from Cole, Bakke, and Black. And the forty seconds of Paulson.
Real good.
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Dracula (1979, John Badham)
This Dracula adaptation takes place in 1913, which is only important so leading lady Kate Nelligan (battling and sometimes winning her English accent) can be a suffragette, and her beau, Trevor Eve, can drive a motorcar. So there can be a car chase. Or three.
The film begins already in England. A ship is having trouble at sea; the crew is trying to get a wooden crate overboard, but they’re too late, and a wolf attacks them. On land, Nelligan lives with her father, Donald Pleasence, who runs a mental institution. Her sickly friend Jan Francis is staying with them. Nelligan helps out in the institution, where the patients aren’t so much violent as profoundly tragic.
After the boat crashes, Francis goes down to the shore and discovers a lone survivor and apparently the ship’s only passenger, a Transylvanian count. We don’t get to see him for a while; Dracula, down to the John Williams score, is a late seventies studio blockbuster. The height of pre-ILM special effects, many smartly executed composite shots, exquisite matte paintings, and Superman: The Movie moments. Down to Laurence Olivier’s stunt cast as Van Helsing, who isn’t a vampire hunter, just a grieving father. Francis is his daughter, and she’s not long for the world. Or movie.
The film’s first hour is moving the pieces around so Langella and Nelligan can have a romance. They need to overcome hurdles, like her presumed engagement to Eve (apparently, they both were just fooling around) and Langella’s desire to create a vampire army to destroy the humans. Starting with Francis.
But since Nelligan disappears in the second half of the film—she’s the vampire’s victim, the fair maiden the men must protect—the film loses its romance angle. Langella hangs out to menace the good guys, but he also vanishes for a stretch. The third act misses them, particularly Nelligan, who never gets to sit with her burgeoning vampiric attributes.
Instead, it’s all about Olivier, Pleasence, and Eve teaming up, though in stages. Olivier and Pleasence get one set piece, then Olivier gets another, then Eve finally gets to team up for the car chases. Despite the good guy plot being Olivier’s movie, he makes room for his costars. He and Pleasence have a delightful rapport; before Olivier arrives to check on Francis, Pleasence is an absent-minded dad-type. He relies on Nelligan for a lot of the institution work, and he’s settled into fine country living when he’s off the clock. He doesn’t even remember how to help someone choking; it’s been so long since he’s practiced real medicine.
When Olivier arrives, Pleasence becomes his Watson. At least until the third act, when there’s not enough room for Pleasence anymore.
Director Badham is often ostentatious; despite the English shooting locations, Dracula’s very American—just listen to Langella’s accent (or lack thereof). Or, really, Nelligan’s English one. Olivier does a heavy accent, which is fine; his performance just doesn’t have any nuance. He doesn’t need it, I suppose. Francis’s accent’s terrible, though. It always sounds like she’s mumbling.
The film wraps up with a conflicted statement about Nelligan’s agency under the patriarchy—Langella’s offering her real power; she just has to eat people—but it’s a reasonably successful adaptation. Langella’s mesmerizing as a dashing Dracula, and he and Nelligan’s chemistry is good. Pleasence and Olivier are fun. Eve’s fine. Tony Haygarth’s a relatively harmless but still terrifying Renfield.
Lovely photography from Gilbert Taylor and good editing from John Bloom. The Williams score is just okay; he doesn’t have a good “Dracula theme,” which he needs.
Great costumes from Julie Harris and production design from Peter Murton. Dracula’s often sumptuous. It’s a little slow, but it’s all right.
This post is part of the Devilishly Delightful Donald Pleasence Blogathon hosted by Gill of Realweegiemidget Reviews and Barry of Cinematic Catharsis.

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Superboy and the Legion of Super-Heroes (1977) #258

Is Legion supposed to be camp? I’m not sure what else makes sense, given writer Gerry Conway’s actually quite good plot and his reliably insipid exposition. Quite good plotting after tricking me in the opening—I thought the splash page said the issue was jumping away from R.J. Brande’s bankruptcy plot, but I just hadn’t reread the exposition enough to understand what Conway was saying.
The Legion has finally met up with Brande, and finally discovered who took his fortune. Then these rogue science police officers attack them, and we get a reasonably good “Legionnaire’s powers are perfect for this situation” action sequence before cutting away to Brainiac 5’s prison island.
Brainiac 5 is not in this issue. Not unless he turns out to have stayed evil and just gotten worse because now the comic’s about a mystery villain. The cover says his name is “The Psycho-Warrior,” but one of the Legionnaires refers to him that way. It’s not his villain name. I mean, it’ll be his villain name, but it doesn’t make any sense. I’m not sure there’s anyone worse at naming villains than late seventies, early eighties Gerry Conway. It’s like he saved all the okay ones for Firestorm and everything else is like… “Psycho-Warrior.”
Conway toggles between the stories, the Legion and the missing fortune, and Psycho-Warrior breaking out of his and Brainy’s prison. Is he Brainy? Probably not; it’s too obviously logical and can’t be drug out.
Because there’s barely a confrontation between the heroes and this new villain (who already hates the Legion, making him just like all their other villains, who hate them for being shitty white kids). He does his escape thing; they go to the Federation Council to have a showdown.
The showdown’s bad but a good idea. If Conway had built to it over a few issues instead of just having a reason for the twist… might’ve been good.
There’s a good narrative device setting up the cliffhanger and then some otherwise lousy writing.
Maybe slightly better than usual art from Joe Staton and Dave Hunt.
This issue’s the last Superboy and the Legion. I wonder if dropping the Boy of Steel’s going to help Conway at all.
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