Matt Fraction: World’s Most Wanted

As I mentioned at the beginning of the Neil Gaiman entry of Heroes Week, I had originally planned to write my written word heroes week essay on one Matt Fraction, that crazy wordsmith currently trolling the metaphorical halls of Marvel comics. I decided against it at the end of things, but I still want to get something out there about the man. Not to say I needed inspiration to find a tipping point for an article, but I did read the final chapter of his twelve part Invincible Iron Man epic, “World’s Most Wanted,” and it begs to be examined and praised. This is going to be a pretty continuity heavy review, and there will be spoilers, especially dealing with the wonderful little reveal that caps the story arc. You have been warned.

There was a decent amount of time in the Marvel Universe when Tony Stark was not a well-liked guy. Blame Civil War and the Superhuman Registration Act. Tony was the head of SHIELD, and SHIELD wasn’t very popular. He would show up in books just to attempt to arrest or recruit the main character, which usually wouldn’t go too well (see issue three of JMS’ Thor run for a sterling example). As the Marvel universe moved toward Secret Invasion, Tony was still focused on the Superhuman Registration Act. StarkTech was compromised, which allowed the Skrulls to nearly take over the world until Norman Osborne struck the killing blow to the Skrull Queen and turned the tides. The Cabal took over, Osborne was the new leader of SHIELD (renamed HAMMER), and Tony Stark was suddenly on the run for crimes against the state.

Throughout this period, Invincible Iron Man, the new ongoing series by Matt Fraction and Salvador Larocca that launched in the wake of the Iron Man film (and by “in the wake” I mean the Wednesday after the film was released), didn’t necessarily feel synced up to the Marvel universe. This is mostly because Tony Stark was not acting like a dick to anyone and everyone the way he had so often in other books previous. And really, this book should be called The Invincible Tony Stark, because you see a hell of a lot more Tony than Shellhead. And I like that. The first arc, “The Five Nightmares” is wonderful, and took us up to issue six, with seven acting as a one and done interstitial issue before the real shit started going down. In that regard, the structure of the ongoing is markedly similar to Fraction and Brubaker’s Immortal Iron Fist. By the time issue eight rolled around, Dark Reign had taken hold, and “World’s Most Wanted” began. This might have been the first real book with the Dark Reign logo on it. It started simple enough. Tony Stark is on the run from the newly formed HAMMER. He’s scared to death of Norman Osborne getting hold of SHIELD’s database of information (and who wouldn’t be? The man’s a nutjob). So Tony did what any sane person would do and uploaded the entire SHIELD database into his brain (it’s been a while, so he might have done this previous to the beginning of the arc. Rest assured, I plan to reread these issues in their entirety very soon). But with the loss of StarkTech, he doesn’t have full access to his Extremis infrastructure. So he has to do something drastic and delete the database systematically from his brain. The only problem, of course, is that he’s also deleting everything else from his brain in the process. This will eventually kill him. This he knows.

There are others along for the ride in this story. Maria Hill and Black Widow work to take down HAMMER from both the outside and the inside. Pepper Potts is another big part of this, and this arc includes her own suit of armor, dubbed Rescue. But Tony’s the undeniable star, as is Fraction’s writing of him. Very quietly (for me, at least, since I don’t pay attention to Previews and never knew if it was announced as such), this became a monster of a twelve issue story arc, giant in scope, powerful in story and heart that feels just like a comic book should. The dumber Tony gets, the less he can control his armor, so he’s forced to go back in time to less complex versions of his armor. He runs into Namor, War Machine, and Crimson Dynamo on his way. Fraction was recently on an episode of the podcast Word Balloon, wherein he described “World’s Most Wanted” as Tony Stark’s This is Your Life. And that’s exactly what it is.

As an aside, this run also had some of my favorite individual issue titles this side of The Umbrella Academy, such as “The High-End Technology of Ultramodern Destruction,” “Kids With Guns vs. The Eternal Angel of Death,” and “Into the White [Einstein on the Beach].” It just adds to the wonder of the story.

The thing that really caught me, and this has happened before, is watching Tony Stark’s mind decay. I have an extreme empathy for the mentally challenged. I think it has something to do with my own pride for and heavy reliance on intelligence. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to my mind. It’s actually such an extreme, gut wrenching response that I feel extraordinarily uncomfortable around such people because I know that whatever I would do, I could not help them in any way that would make me feel better. Perhaps that makes me a bad person, but that part of things isn’t really germane to the task at hand. Four separate examples of such characterization from literature really stand out to me. The first is part one of Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury, the Benjy section. The second is from Alex Ross and Kurt Busiek’s Marvels, which features a note written by a mutant child to the family that has been sheltering her. This isn’t as good an example due to the fact that we’re dealing with a child and not a simpleton, but I got the same reaction. The third is actually another Matt Fraction book, Punisher War Journal, which features a similarly written letter as that from Marvels from the Rhino apologizing for his wantonly destructive ways. Lastly, of course, is “World’s Most Wanted,” specifically an email Tony writes to Maria Hill in issue 17 (might be 18, but I’m almost positive it’s 17). I think this is arguably the most affecting for me, thanks to the fact that Tony used to be such an intellectual giant and is now reduced to such a state that he can’t coherently form sentences. It’s one of those things where you get such a strong emotional reaction, even if it’s a negative one, that you want to experience it again. This is the hallmark of good, nay great writing.

Oh, and that ending? “Who the hell is Dr. Donald Blake??”? Gold. Absolutely perfectly timed comic gold. I foresee good times ahead.

I wouldn’t necessarily say that Invincible Iron Man is my favorite comic book currently being released monthly. It’s very close, but the overall quality and wonder of the Thors and Incredible Hercules’ of the world will usually get the nod. What I can say is that there has been no finer story arc or story line in the entirety of comicdom over the last twelve months than “World’s Most Wanted.” This is what comics are supposed to be. This is why we read them. Escapism and emotion. Vast story expanses where anything seems possible. Epic feel. This book has it in spades. I am now fully convinced that any and everyone who even considers themselves comic book readers, whether it be Marvel or DC, mainstream or independent, superhero or slice of life, should be required to read the first nineteen issues of The Invincible Iron Man. It’s not quite Casanova level work for Fraction, but it’s damned close. And it’s in many ways the best stuff out there right now. People bitch about the Eisners every year. But I have no problems whatsoever that Invincible Iron Man won the Eisner for best new series this year. It deserves it wholeheartedly.

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This post was written to the tune of King Crimson’s Larks Tongues in Aspic

New Blood

There are times when something new comes along. Something that just smacks you across the face and screams “LOOK AT ME! I’M CRAZY AND NEW AND ORIGINAL!!” The realm of the comic book medium is such that you can have these moments with an at times startling regularity. The depth of artists and writers available to ply their trades throughout the comic landscape is deep and plentiful. You’ve got the big two in Marvel and DC that have their daring stories of superhero goodness, and while they may not often have anything wholly new or fresh in their main slate of titles, both have their own imprints (MAX and Icon on the Marvel side, Vertigo and Wildstorm for DC) that allow for some flexing of the creative muscles. Of course, beyond the big two is where you start to see the really wild stuff uncorked. The second tier that rounds out the overall big five consisting of Dark Horse, Image, and newcomer to the big boy’s table IDW, have had their fair share of madness force itself upon the reader. Indeed, the two properties that are at the core of this article are new books with a similar release history that have been unleashed by Image in the last half year.

If you follow anything related to comic books online, and you manage to pay even the slightest bit of attention to the non-Marvel or DC goings-on, you’ve probably at least heard of Chew. The story that came out of nowhere from John Layman and Rob Guillory hit the stands and sold like crazy on its limited print run. First printings of the debut book were selling for $50 or more on eBay. Everyone seemed to want to read it, but no one could find it. The story is that of a not too distant future where all poultry products have been banned due to an avian flu epidemic. A chicken selling black market has sprouted in response, and chicken smuggling speakeasies are in constant danger of being raided by the FDA, who have become a sort of de facto mix of the FBI and SWAT. Enter Tony Chu, a low rent detective with a sickeningly effective psychic power. He is cibopathic, which means he can get psychic readings from anything he eats. It makes him quite the detective, but also forces him to eat any manner of disgusting things to get to the bottom of cases. The first arc, “Taster’s Choice,” wrapped up last month, focusing on Tony Chu being recruited as a new operative of the FDA while he tries to solve the mystery of the death of a food critic. Of course, something more sinister is going on underneath the scene, and we’ve just gotten a taste (pun completely and absolutely intended) of things to come.

This book is, for all intents and purposes, brilliant. Tony Chu’s power, which is also shared by another FDA agent, the gigantic and terrifically designed Mason Savoy, allows for the perfect mix of comedy and general grossness, and the key is the way Tony reacts to his power. He knows he must do what he does for the greater good, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. Tony hates what he has to do. His peers and bosses are both disgusted and freaked out by him. He’s constantly harangued by everyone but Mason, and still soldiers on. I don’t want to spoil anything, but the story gets bigger and crazier over the course of these first five issues, but all of it feels genuine. I certainly can’t think of the central idea ever happening before in anything I’ve read, and sure it’s a genre book at its core, but it’s so unique and refreshing in its execution that you can’t help but fall into to whole madcap goings on of this off beat world. There have been multiple printings of the first arc, so the single issues hopefully shouldn’t be too hard to find anymore, and one would assume that a trade paperback is upcoming. Find it. Read it. Marvel at its originality. Love it.

But Image wasn’t done there. Oh no. We also get to enjoy the wildness of Cowboy Ninja Viking. I should mention something. I’m very glad I listen to comic book podcasts. I’m a busy guy on a day to day basis, and I never get a chance to look at Previews (by Previews, I am referring to Diamond Distributors catalogue that they release every month of the current comic book solicitations, which are for books being released two to three months in the future). I’ll check the text format Previews that DCBS (Discount Comic Book Service, my online comic ordering site of choice that saves me tons of money month to month), but that’s usually just to check on an ancillary book from the Big Two (ah, hell, who am I kidding? Basically just Marvel). So I miss out on a lot of books (Chew was also a good example of this). I need podcasts to tell me what I missed. Another new Image Comics release, Cowboy Ninja Viking, is a perfect example of that kind of book.

I can personally thank Comic Geek Speak’s excellent podcast for turning me onto Cowboy Ninja Viking. This is a good thing, because with a name like that, I would probably never have given it the time of day. I am a geek, and I’m very much embroiled in geek culture. However, there are aspects of the geek culture (the irrational love of ninjas being one of them) that have a tendency to irk me. So a book with a title like that just seems childish on the surface. But then you see it. You see its Golden Age style size (which doesn’t fit comfortably in my comic boxes, humorously enough). You see the art, which strongly evokes Casanova, one of my favorite comes ever, what with its somewhat scratchy style and stark, two tone color style (the fact that the color used in the issue seems to be the same shade of blue Fabio Moon used in Casanova’s second story arc presumably reinforces the comparison). You see the story concept, which consists of a shadow agency recruiting people with three split personalities (“triplets”) to be the perfect assassins. You see the way each of the titular hero’s word balloons are altered to determine who is talking (the outline of a revolver for the cowboy, an axe for the Viking, and a sword for the ninja), you see the whole package as something that’s just actively different.

The art is gorgeous. The story is engaging. The dialogue is wacky but grounded and contained. The potential is immense. The second triplet you see at the end of issue one is just a glimpse of where this book could go. It’s all about the possibilities of the future, and in the case of both Chew and Cowboy Ninja Viking, Image’s future is looking pretty bright.

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This post was written to the tune of The Beatles’ Revolver

Misconceptions

There is a strong chance that Friedrich Nietzsche might be one of the most misunderstood thinkers we’ve seen in the philosophical enterprise. What’s interesting about it is the fact that these misconceptions are almost entirely not his fault. This is not an example of vague or overly complex prose leading to a misread of a text (I’m thinking along the lines of Hegel here, whose prose is so dense that he’s easily misunderstood due to confusion more than anything). Far from it. Nietzsche’s text is clear. Some would say too clear in certain situations, bordering on polemic (or, in the case of On the Genealogy of Morals, it’s actually subtitled as “A polemic”). Even Thus Spoke Zarathustra and some of the aphorisms from The Gay Science that are designed to be parables (or parodies of parables, which might be a better fit) still have a clear topic of focus and are easy to understand philosophically.

I’m also not trying to say that some of the controversy concerning Nietzsche’s thought is unwarranted. There are moments, especially in On the Genealogy of Morals sections about the good/evil and good/bad distinction, that sound pretty scary from a Third Reich perspective (thanks, “blonde beast”). His thoughts were radical and challenging, and made many uncomfortable. Two things certainly didn’t help: 1. His sister’s involvement in his work and the publishing of The Will to Power, and 2. his eventual co-opting at the hands of the Nazi regime. These two things go hand in hand considering Elizabeth Nietzsche’s political outlook was strongly pre-Nazian, and she made obvious edits to his unpublished work.

Nietzsche’s philosophical outlook was always confrontational. I’ve long held the belief that there are two major histories in the Western philosophical tradition. The positive history of philosophy charts the progress of thought from its origins in the pre-Socratics and Parmenides through the holy trinity of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, on through DesCartes, Kant, and so on, with its apex (in my opinion at least) found with Hegel. In nearly all cases, these were philosophers that argued for the ability to understand knowledge rationally as something supersensible beyond the sensual realm. You could easily refer to it as the rational history of western philosophy, but I think that designation lacks sufficient punchiness. On the other side of the coin, you have the negative history of philosophy, which begins with Heraclitus, moves through the Greek skeptics and Protagoras, other scattered thinkers through the ages like Pascal, Hobbes, David Hume, and Kierkegaard, and finds its apex in Nietzsche. In some ways, this negative philosophy is more concerned with the sensible. Perspectivism, relativism, and skepticism are strongly rooted in this history. In many ways, the negative history is a systematic response to the positive. It builds on its predecessors in a similar way, but often takes the role of refutations or devils’ advocates of the popular positive philosophers of the time. It’s not something as simple as the division between analytic and continental philosophy, as continental rationalists certainly exist and are quite popular. Either way Nietzsche was there. And he changed a lot of things just based on how he wrote. He would call out specific philosophers in sometimes mean spirited fashion (Socrates being referred to as a demon, John Stuart Mill as a flathead, and so on). He would write aphorisms that were specifically design to elicit a response. Zarathustra as a work was a carefully constructed parody of Christianity. He was ruthless.

Because of this, Nietzsche is often considered by scholars to be not worthy of philosophical examination. He’s seen as a gimmick, a thinker who was more concerned with getting a rise out of his readers than making any real philosophical progress. While I would certainly argue that this isn’t at all true, it has led to a lot of backlash. When Nietzsche made his famous proclamation in The Gay Science that “God is dead,” he made enemies. And this was intentional. Nietzsche was constantly using such language to fend people off, to force them away. He didn’t want everyone to read his philosophy, because he was actively aware that his philosophy is not for everyone. Indeed, the “God is dead, and we have killed him” phenomenon is less about religion itself, than the values (specifically Christian values) that these religions hold have lost sway on the modern man. Science has put religion on decline. It is no longer needed by modern man. It has been overcome. It is an incendiary saying, obviously, but its design is to show us the world as it actually is. It is simply done through invective, because this is Nietzsche’s way.

What I can say is unequivocally the greatest injustice levied on Nietzsche’s thought and works is the proto-Nazi anti-Semitism that is constantly used as an excuse to pigeonhole his philosophy. What’s so annoying about it, and the work of scholars like Walter Kaufmann and R.J. Hollingdale has helped allay these conceptions immensely, is that it’s completely opposite to Nietzsche’s outlook. From his first work in 1872, he warned against German nationalism. You see it again as late as Ecce Homo, one of his last published works in 1888. If anything, he was an anti-German, which is ironic considering his eventual co-opting at the hands of National Socialism. The only part of his philosophy (and when I say philosophy, I mean the works that he actively published during his life) that could be considered anti-Semitic is portions of On the Genealogy of Morals, and that was more about Judaism as a herald of Christianity than anything else. He does say that Judaism is the cause for the creation of the master/slave morality (the infamous “slave revolt of morality” that probably had some deference to Marx) that he thinks is one of the key changes in thinking that leads to the necessary revaluation of all values (i.e. nihilism), but he is also very clear that the true problem of the master/slave morality is the Christians coming in, taking up the cause and making it the dominant religion and value system of the western world. He never talks about any kind of hatred for the Jewish race or Jewish people in themselves. He simply disagreed (violently) with their values.

The will to power, the overman, the more radical nationalism that you see in his later posthumous works was not anything that anyone should legitimately take seriously as paramount to Nietzsche’s thought as such. His sister, who he actively criticized during his lucid years, took control of his works and published them with reckless abandon, actively editing his words to fit her own nationalist and anti-Semitic tendencies. His reputation unfortunately goes hand in hand with this period, as it happened so soon after his descent into madness and death, and that period was also the beginning of his rise in popularity in the early twentieth century. One wonders if Nietzsche’s legend would even be as large as it is today (for good or ill) if he had not been turned into post-hoc Nazi propaganda. What really matters, what people constantly overlook when studying Friedrich Nietzsche, is his educational roots. The man was a classical philologist. He went to university to study Ancient Greece. I still contend (and this may be controversial in its own right, but the evidence is there) that the single most important idea in all of Nietzsche’s thought that colors everything he does is the dichotomy he talks about in The Birth of Tragedy between the Apollonian and Dionysian forces from Ancient Greek culture. Above the eternal recurrence, above the overman (heh), above the will to power, above perspectivism and nihilism. He’s a Greek at heart, born in the wrong decade. It’s a shame he’s been dragged through the mud on so many occasions. I wish it would stop.

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This post was written to the tune of Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway

Running Commentary: Fantastic Four Rising Storm Part 2

Fantastic Four #521

Writer: Mark Waid

Pencils: Mike Wieringo

Inker: Karl Kesel

Issue two of Rising Storm consists of Johnny Storm, herald of Galactus attempting to dissuade Galactus from committing genocide while the Fantastic Four (with Quasar) frantically search the cosmos for him. We learn more in this issue about why Johnny Storm was chosen as Galactus’ new herald. Apparently there is something involved in the Invisible Woman power set that allows the ability to not only be invisible, but to see that which is hidden as well. Galactus has been trying to find a galaxy that has a cloaking device that hides them from his radar, and Johnny Storm is the perfect person to find them. And he does. What follows is a series of panels where Johnny visits various planets in the stellar system that are both fit for eating an uninhabited. Of course, any planet fit for devouring would pretty much be a life sustaining planet and thus have to have some form of life, so Johnny keeps trying to convince these folks to take up arms against the World Devourer, but they’re too busy being either scared to death, irrationally angry, and just meek to actually do anything constructive when confronted by the herald of Galactus. A very nice touch.

As it should be, the scenes involving Galactus are almost entirely silent on the Big G’s end. This is the way things should be. One of the best parts about the three issue Nova arc involving Galactus that Abnett and Lanning wrote recently was the way Galactus never spoke to anyone. He is the supreme omnipotence of the universe. Why would he ever waste the time to speak to insignificant humans? It ruins the mystique. Galactus does eventually speak in this issue, but it’s limited to the last splash page, and it’s only because Johnny’s new abilities to see beyond the veil has allowed him to see the true origins of Galactus, or should I say Galan. Talking about this origin has made Galactus intrigued, and he invites Torch to continue his tale at the end of the story.

I must say that this issue was all about Johnny. The FF frantically searching for Johnny and Quasar’s involvement didn’t really do much for me this issue. And I must say that Johnny’s manner of speaking still grates on me. I think Waid is doing an excellent job with the story, and Ringo’s art is still fantastic. It’s very much a second issue in a story arc, but not in a way that is detrimental. Good stuff moving forward.

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This post was written to the tune of Firewater’s Get Off the Cross…We Need the Wood for the Fire

Running Commentary: Fantastic Four’s Rising Storm Part 1

I’m going to start a new theme that I’ll take up from time to time where I read or watch something episodic and write about each part in order. The first series will be on the three trade paperbacks I picked up on the cheap at this past weekend’s Boston Comic Con, Fantastic Four: Rising Storm, Volume 1 of Brian Michael Bendis’ Pulse series, and Black Panther: The Client, the first volume of the landmark Christopher Priest run. I got all three of these trades for $15, which is a pretty damned good deal. I just recently cracked open the first issue of the Fantastic Four trade, and here are some thoughts.

Fantastic Four #520 – Part One of Rising Storm

Writer: Mark Waid

Pencils: Mike Wieringo

Inks: Karl Kesel

I’ve never read any of the Waid/Ringo run of Fantastic Four. I’ve heard a lot of good about it, and I’d seen quite a lot of the dearly departed Ringo’s FF art on VS System cards from the Marvel Legends set, and it’s got that perfect mix of cartoony elements (which is really essential when you’re working with characters like The Thing and Mr. Fantastic) and some realism to keep things grounded. This story was bought for one simple reason: GALACTUS. I am a Galactus fanboy. An extreme one, at that. When I went to Boston Comic Con, my plan was to make it a trip that would get me as many cheap Galactus related comic books as possible. And I think I did that. This trade, the first two issues of the Galactus: The Devourer miniseries, an issue of Fantastic Four from the Abraxas saga, a random assortment of Secret Wars and Infinity War issues. All fun cosmicky goodness. When I saw Rising Storm in the buy one get two free boxes and saw the picture of Johnny Storm, herald of Galactus on the back, I knew I had to find two more books to make it worth its while. The issue begins with the story already underway. It becomes clear quickly that at some point recently, Sue and Johnny had their powers switched by Reed Richards so Sue became the Human Torch and Johnny became the Invisible Man. Apparently because of this, Galactus has since taken Johnny to be his newest herald.

This is very much the first issue of a story arc, but not in a bad way. Sue and Johnny are shown trying to cope with their new powers, Johnny is trying to cope with dealing with Galactus, and the Fantastic Four is trying to cope with the disappearance of Johnny. There are two flashbacks during the issue that look at Sue and Ben’s fonder memories of Johnny. Both are done in a different art style (the drawing of Thing’s face in Ben’s flashback is nothing short of incredible), and they’re wonderful little slices of life that ground these characters in a real and touching way. I can say that Johnny is at times written a little too much like a punk, but that is definitely a part of his character. I think Waid overplays it slightly, especially in the scene where he confronts Galactus about the lack of a bathroom on the Worldship. That was a little on the nose.

I must say that the climactic fight between Johnny Storm and Karragan is a perfect meld of writer and artist. The point to get across is simple and clear: Johnny does not fully comprehend the power that Galactus has given him in making him a herald. Ringo perfectly captures this in the way he dispatches his foe, and the aftermath is played for laughs with an undercurrent that Johnny is in a very dangerous situation that could lead to bad things quickly if he loses control. Meanwhile, the rest of the FF with the help of Quasar is in hot pursuit. It’s about as good as a first issue as you could ask for. The storytelling is clear and concise, the art is gorgeous and strongly reinforces the story, and the characters act like they should. I’m definitely looking forward to the rest of this trade.

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This post was written to the tune of Genesis’ Archive Volume 1: 1967-1975

Heroes Week Finale: American Gaiman

We have reached the end of Heroes Week (and yes, it’s a couple days late. Sue me), and the final entertainment sphere I must cover is the written word. I originally planned to write about the comic work of one Matt Fraction, one of my favorite current comic writers out there, but I wanted to switch things up and write about books. You know, book books. Like, with words and stuff. And little to no pictures. Shocking, I know. I read lots of books. Many of them, especially these days, are philosophy related, but I still get some time sometimes to actually read a novel for fun. This year has been the year of Neil Gaiman. I love his books. And, of course, he got his start writing comics, and his prose start writing a book about Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The man was destined to be a favorite of mine. In the past year, I’ve read nearly everything he’s written. I’m amazed by the constant quality in his comic work and both his long and short form prose. I’m not really a poetry guy, so the poems in Fragile Things didn’t do much for me. What does do it for me is, well, everything else.

I think his comic work is exceptional. His little two issue run of Batman and Detective Comics (Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?) was a great, weird little aside to the massive weirdness of Batman RIP and Final Crisis, and I also managed to read all 75 issues of his Sandman run, which is just a hell of a thing. I can’t really describe it all that well, but it was certainly an experience. Within the last year and a half, I’ve also read Neverwhere, American Gods, Coraline, Anansi Boys, and Fragile Things. I think what really makes Gaiman work as a writer is his ability to set a mood. All of these works are different in their content and who they appeal to, but there is a unifying mood to all of his books. Much like the subject of day three of Heroes Week, Mr. Terry Gilliam (as an aside, I saw some footage of The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus over the weekend that looks simply amazing), Neil Gaiman is a dreamer. You can see why Sandman was such a good fit for him.

There is a way that Gaiman writes his fiction that creates a general sense of unease. Things are never right. They’re usually close to being right, but there’s always something a little off. It’s ephemeral. It’s not always something blatant (though it certainly can be at times), but when you have things like Richard Mayhew slowly realizing he has lost is connection to the real world, or the buttons on the eyes of the Other Mother. It’s not played up to be actively creepy or unsettling, but it’s always there on the periphery and leads to an overall sense that something’s just not right. This is essential storytelling for the stories that Gaiman writes, and he carries it off with aplomb. To be honest, I’m not really up on the release of new novels. It’s not like comics, movies, video games, music, DVDs, etc when I know when things are coming out. But I pay attention to Gaiman. When his next book is released, it’ll probably be the first instance of me buying a novel on the day of its release since The Salmon of Doubt.

Top Five Characters from Neil Gaiman Stories

5. Other Mother (from Coraline)

Other Mother is a creepy character. That’s for sure. Her character is designed to actively subvert the conventions of the loving mother. In her first appearance, she is loving, kind and warm to Coraline, but the black buttons where her eyes should be belie the danger within. She goes through constant upheavals and eventually twists into a truly frightening visage (this is pulled off very well in Henry Selick’s film that was released earlier this year). The great villain of the piece is an excellent example of Gaiman’s ability to have things not quite right eventually lead to a big payoff.

4. Fat Charlie (from Anansi Boys)

Fat Charlie has had a rough life. He is constantly in the shadow of his father, and soon discovers a brother he never knew he had that proceeds to wreak havoc on his life. Fat Charlie is the quintessential sad sack protagonist that has to deal with life acting as an overly aggressive bully toward him at all times. He goes through quite the odyssey during Anansi Boys, and he a nice change of pace from the standard Gaiman hero. It breathes some fresh air into his prose, which was admittedly a needed change. Fat Charlie is an example of Gaiman’s well-roundedness, which is a necessity in storytelling.

3. Door (from Neverwhere)

Door has one of the better entrances for a character I’ve read in a while, and her initial frailty is soon replaced by the courage of royalty. I love her power. The ability to make anything open to her stretches beyond the simple ability to open doors. She makes you feel for Richard and his plight as he fights to get away from London Below before he finally decides to embrace his destiny. Door is the emotional center of the book (I still need to watch the miniseries).

2. Shadow (from American Gods and “The Monarch of the Glen”)

Ah, Shadow. Gruff, a bit simplistic, but so effective as a protagonist in what is arguably the craziest of Gaiman’s non-comics work. Shadow does not act to change things. He is the ultimate passive observer. Everything he does is because he was told. Everything. But in the case of the story of American Gods, this makes perfect sense. I won’t spoil things (and I’m realizing while I’m typing this that it probably actually will spoil things, so this is your official spoiler warning), but for anyone that’s played Bioshock, you’ll understand how having such a passive and susceptible main character is essential to make things move forward. Shadow is a sad individual, and it works perfectly.

1. Delirium (from the Sandman series of comic books)

Ah, The Endless. Death, Despair, Dream, Destiny, Desire, Delirium and Destruction. The family of, well, things (gods?) that are at the center of Gaiman’s magnum opus, Sandman. Dream is obviously the main character of Sandman, and he is a very strong character throughout, full of the Greek tragic mix of nobility and petty flaws that eventually lead to his downfall. But, to be honest, the real stars of the book are the other members of The Endless. Delirium is one of those mentally simple and staggeringly innocent characters that get a lot of pathos from me, and her character design is great throughout. Death was a popular enough character to continue on past the series. Destiny is a classic trope of literature, but his character design and the mood surrounding him is fantastic. They’re all great, but I do think Delirium is probably my favorite at the end of the day. Dream is the focal point of Sandman, but the rest of The Endless is what makes the book sing.

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This post was written to the tune of Jethro Tull’s Thick as a Brick

Heroes Week: Studio Sorkin on the Sunset Strip

Ah, television. I love me some television. I watch a lot of TV on a weekly basis, but it’s arguable that I watch even more on DVD. When the decision was made to start releasing full television seasons on DVD, the prices were outrageous (remember those old X-Files sets that were about $120 per season? Yeah). The prices have come back down to earth, and I’ve built up quite the little collection of series. It’s been fun to have older series that I hadn’t seen in a while be released on DVD to allow for me to relive some of the glory days of my youth. A perfect example of this would be when the full series of Newsradio was recently released in its entirety. I loved getting to catch up on that series, but it is not the holy grail of my DVD collection. That would be a little show created by Aaron Sorkin called Sports Night.

I didn’t see all of Sports Night when it aired. I probably saw a good 70 to 80% of the episodes, but I missed some things here and there. It’s the best show I’ve ever seen. This unassuming little two season half hour show that was billed as a comedy but was more of a drama with comedic elements (hilarious comedic elements, mind you), and it was nothing like I had ever seen. Why would anyone care about the back stage politics of a struggling SportsCenter rip off? Because Aaron Sorkin made us care. Dan, Casey, Dana, Jeremy, Natalie, Isaac, these were all extremely compelling characters with compelling stories and real growth from show to show. These were not particularly happy or nice characters either. But they felt real. In many ways, especially during this period, Sorkin is the David Mamet of television. His characters feel real, and this is very important for a show like Sports Night that is so much more about the characters than the sports they cover.

The show had a lot of fantastic humor throughout, and some of my favorite witty exchanges I’ve ever seen on a show, but what really drew you back in was the drama. This selection of heroes week is technically about Sorkin, but it’s more about Sports Night than anything. I never really watched The West Wing, and while I thought Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip was generally good (loved the pilot), it was not nearly as strong as his work on Sports Night. Considering that Sorkin was involved in the writing of the vast majority of the episodes, he’s getting the love as my hero of the television industry.

Top Five Sports Night Episodes:

5. “The Cut Man Cometh” (Season Two, Written by Alex Graves)

Simple. Effective. Hilarious. Find out what happens when Dan and Casey are covering a big-time prize fight that ends in about twelve seconds. The team has to cover the aftermath of the fight for nearly an hour, and have a completely inept color commentator (the aforementioned Cut Man) to make matters worse. Dana and Casey’s relationship comes to a head, but this episode is all about the comedy. It’s probably the funniest episode they ever did, and even though it might not be up to snuff in some other perspectives, the humor makes it sing.

4. “Quo Vadimus” (Season Two Finale, Written by Aaron Sorkin)

This is a very emotional episode for me to watch, not only because it’s the last ever episode of my favorite show of all time, but because of the way the show moves forward as it reaches its climax. This is Clark Gregg’s second episode as the mysterious man at the bar constantly bothering Dana (and I love me some Clark Gregg). Rebecca returns, and everything slowly unravels as Dan and Casey plan to break up their team and move to different coasts. The ending is bittersweet with a wonderful jab at ABC for canceling them. Great episode and a fitting end.

3. “The Sword of Orion” (Season One, Written by David Handelman, Mark McKinney, and Aaron Sorkin)

You know, I didn’t even know Mark McKinney (more famous for being one of the Kids in the Hall, actually wrote for this show until I looked it up. This episode is all about the way something in your personal life can affect the way you work, specifically pertaining to Jeremy’s relationship with his parents. He becomes absolutely obsessed with understanding what happened to The Sword of Orion, a yacht that disappeared ten years in the past, which is really just an analogy to his attempts to deal with the divorce of his parents. Joshua Malina is so incredibly good in this episode, that it has become one of my favorites.

2. “Draft Day Parts 1 & 2” (Season Two, Written by Matt Tarses, Aaron Sorkin, and Kevin Falls)

Oh, Draft Day. The day that Dan and Jeremy completely fall apart (though it’s not the first time Dan falls apart, technically). Both Dan and Jeremy are heavily perturbed about having to cover the second round of the NFL draft, causing Dan to rebel and humiliate Casey live on the air, and Jeremy to scramble to attempt to save his new relationship. It’s heavily dramatic; there isn’t much comedy in each episode, and it’s all about watching this stiflingly uncomfortable drama unfold. Shows like this (and my number one choice) are great examples of why this show was so incredibly different than any other half hour show on television at the time.

1. “Eli’s Coming” (Season One, Written by Aaron Sorkin)

Remember when I said that Draft Day was not the first example of Dan completely falling apart? Well, this is the first example. His relationship with Rebecca falls apart. He’s constantly beset upon by a fill-in anchor who is convinced he slept with her (who is played by Lisa Eddelstein, better known as Dr. Cuddy on House these days). Things are going crazy all over. What’s so great about this episode is the way that Dan rises above the problems (he agrees to support Rebecca’s choice to go into couples counseling with her separated husband, and apologizes to Bobbi when he discovers she was right), but ends up getting blindsided by the revelation that Isaac had a stroke. He talks about the Three Dog Night song “Eli’s Coming” earlier in the episode and how he misinterpreted it as a song about impending doom, and the musical cue of “Eli’s Coming” is so goddamned perfectly timed that it continues to give me chills even though I’ve probably watched the episode and that scene about 30+ times. This is the best single episode for any television show I’ve ever seen EVER.

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This post was written to the tune of Queens of the Stone Age’s Songs for the Deaf

Heroes Week: The Brothers Gilliam

My DVD shelf is pretty large. That in itself is a bit of a misnomer, as it’s actually three separate DVD shelves at different parts of my room. It’s a pretty simple set up: one shelf for movies, one for TV shows, one for everything else (predominantly pro wrestling and concert films). I love movies. I love TV. I love collecting things. There are quite a few directors whose work I cherish above others. Christopher Nolan, Darren Aronofsky, David O. Russell, and so on, but none of them reach the caliber of one Terry Gilliam, the subject of day three of Heroes Week.

Gilliam obviously got his start in Monty Python. He’s probably the least known member of the Pythons in a way, considering that he was less of an on-air performer and more of a behind the scenes animator. The transition to film directing was rough at the start; it would be difficult for anyone to consider Jabberwocky a good film. What it did do was establish the kind of film you would expect to see from Gilliam in the future, with its surrealistic humor and imagery, as well as strong fantasy elements. And things were certainly uphill from there.

There have been hiccups along the way. The third film in his 1980’s unofficial trilogy, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen was a bit of a mess. The Brothers Grimm, while I enjoy it for the fun of the concept, is pretty weak. There are serious problems in many parts of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. However, when he’s on, he’s the best director on earth. Of this I am certain. No one has the enthusiasm of this man. That’s one of the best parts of his DVD commentaries. He cares so damned much.

I hope that some day we’ll be able to see his adaptation of Good Omens. He’s currently once again working on The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, and hopefully this time it will actually be finished. It’s a shame that a man who was plagued with so many production and studio problems (his war with Universal over Brazil is legendary, and subject of a pretty damned fantastic documentary on the pretty damned fantastic Criterion DVD release) could be so brilliant and yet so apparently fated to not make films. You can argue about how many of the problems are legitimately the fault of Mr. Gilliam himself, but I wish he would have been able to make more films over the past twenty years. It seemed almost fitting that Heath Ledger died when in the middle of making a Gilliam film (The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus), which nearly led to that film not being made either. Luckily, it has been completed and may or may not have a December release in the US. Exciting times to see a new Gilliam film. On to the top five.

Top Five Terry Gilliam Films

5. Lost in La Mancha (2002)

I am fully aware that this is cheating. No, Terry Gilliam did not direct this. He brought a documentary crew with him on his attempt to film The Man Who Killed Don Quixote to document the process (one would assume we would have seen something similar to The Hamster Factor from the Twelve Monkeys DVD release. The same crew was involved in the filming). Considering how horrendously the film fell apart, and that the documentarians were filming the whole process, they decided to go ahead and make the film about the destruction of the shoot. So many things go wrong so quickly that it almost seems like fantasy. It’s a fantastic documentary that’s also quite depressing at times considering how enjoyable the scenes that were completed looked, and how strong the concept of the film is. Hopefully the second go around will be more successful.

4. Time Bandits (1981)

The first of three Gilliam films from the 80’s that are considered an unofficial trilogy dealing with age, Time Bandits is the first real example of Gilliam as an honest to goodness filmmaker. Tons of cameos, a great art design chock full of childhood whimsy, and a really fun romp through a combination of situations featuring famous folks both historical and fictional (Ian Holm as Napoleon? John Cleese as Robin Hood? Sean Connery as Agamemnon? Awesome!). It’s a great film for everyone.

3. Twelve Monkeys (1995)

I saw La Jetee (the French film where Twelve Monkeys got its inspiration) when I was in college. I had seen Twelve Monkeys years before, but watching La Jetee certainly added to my appreciation for the film. It’s very well constructed, and one of the tightest examples of time travel working logically you may ever see. It’s the film that solidified Bruce Willis as someone beyond a simple action star, and Brad Pitt as someone beyond a pretty boy. In that respect, it is a very important film, and it’s a good thing the quality is so excellent throughout. Great twists abound, and the ending works out extraordinarily well.

2. The Fisher King (1991)

Jeff Bridges plays a Howard Stern-equse shock jock whose life falls apart when he inadvertently sparks a killing spree. Robin Williams plays a now homeless man whose life was ruined by that selfsame killing spree. What follows is a humorous but sobering tale of Arthurian legend, overcoming obstacles, life on the street, and forgiveness. It’s a touching film, and one of Jeff Bridges’ better performances. It’s also probably one of the most straightforward of Gilliam’s films. Sure, there’s a fantasy element and the cinematography is unmistakably Gilliam, but it’s somewhat tame compared to the other entries in his filmography.

1. Brazil (1985)

The best film I’ve ever seen. Jonathan Pryce is fantastic. Ian Holm is at his unsure, wormy best. DeNiro is charming as all hell. Palin’s great. Everything’s great. Imagine if the ruling class in 1984 were complete and total bureaucratic morons that that managed to take control anyway. The story involves Sam Lowry’s attempts to just live his life and get the girl, but spins wildly out from there as more and more ridiculous things seem to happen to him. He has dreams of courage and conquest but cannot act on them in his daily life. He’s weak. Brazil is the best film I’ve seen simply because it is so strong in every sense. Startlingly well acted. Fantastic set design and cinematography to create a future dystopia just left of center. Brilliant writing with one of my favorite twist endings ever. It’s chock full of things you’ll never notice (let’s thank both Criterion and Gilliam for probably the best DVD package I’ve ever seen and some wonderful commentaries). It is simply the best. Nothing comes close.

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This post was written to the tune of Rammstein’s Liebe ist für Alle Da

Heroes Week: Taking the Downtown Train with Tom Waits

Anyone who knows me should fully expect that this article was coming. My love for Tom Waits is pretty extreme. I consider his music to be of the highest quality of any music I’ve heard in my life. And yes, he’s one of the few I can put above The Beatles. Oddly enough, my first exposure to Tom Waits as such was not through his music. I first became aware of him from his role in Mystery Men. I had seen him in other films like The Fisher King and Bram Stoker’s Dracula prior to that, but I didn’t have an idea of who he was. I was exposed to his music thanks in part to Firewater’s cover of “Diamonds and Gold” from Songs We Should Have Written. I went on a three month Tom Waits binge that summer, buying nearly every album he released in his long career, and just fell in love with his gruff voice, his lyricism, his view of the world. Real Gone was released later that year, and I was fully hooked.

What amazes me about Tom Waits is his constant upheaval as an artist. I always implore people to listen to his records in chronological order (although I usually tell them to skip Foreign Affairs) just to watch him turn from piano balladeer to blues balladeer to carnival barker to grim reaper to folk balladeer to something that can only be described as the work of a demon. It’s an incredibly varied career with constant reinvention, but the quality of the song writing and lyricism exists throughout. Old Tom is best when he’s singing narratives like “Invitation to the Blues” or “Blue Valentines” or “Martha.” His ability to evoke a scene or emotion is legendary, and he’s one of the best if you want to wallow in sorrow with a sad song. That’s not to say he’s a one note songwriter. Far from it. Humor, slice of life, surrealism, it’s all on the table. And it’s all done in such a great way.

Even if you think you’ve never heard a Tom Waits song, there’s a decent chance you have without realizing it. Ever hear Bruce Springsteen’s rendition of “Jersey Girl”? That’s a Tom Waits song. Ever see Shrek 2? The song Captain Hook plays in the tavern is “Little Drop of Poison,” recently released as part of the Orphans box set. “Ol’ 55” was covered by The Eagles. “Downtown Train” and “Tom Traubert’s Blues” were (badly) covered by Rod Stewart. He’s around, whether you realize it or not. It’s not surprising that you see a lot of covers of his songs. The man’s voice can be off putting to an outsider. At some point in the eighties, his vocal chords were apparently replaced by steel wool. Despite this, he still brings the emotion, and the gruff vocals often serve to reinforce the everyman feel of his lyrics. He’s a perfect fit for what he sings.

I’m very disappointed that Tom has not toured the northeast since I discovered my love for his music. His stage banter is hilarious (I’m super excited that the new live release coming next month, Glitter and Doom, will apparently have an entire disc of just stage banter), and he has played some of the greatest live songs I’ve ever heard. I hope to see him live one day. Really, he’s the only one left I actively need to see live. It should happen eventually, and that will be a great day. Here’s to you, Tom.

Top Five Tom Waits Albums

5. Blue Valentine (1978)

Tom Waits in full-on bluesy fervor. It’s the beginnings of his transition away from normal music towards the, well, whatever the hell you call what he did in the 80’s, and is a definite precursor to the dirty, sleazy Heartattack and Vine. “Blue Valentines” is one of his best ballads, and “$29.00” might be the best pure blues narrative he ever wrote. The rest of it is solid gold despite the maudlin cover of “Somewhere.” It’s a vision of things to come, but a full album of goodness in its own right.

4. Rain Dogs (1985)

The apex of the carnival barker years. Rain Dogs is a titanic album, with 19 tracks. It’s the first album he worked with Marc Ribot, and has a very distinctive guitar feel alongside the wild percussive styles that began on Swordfishtrombones. It’s a solid record despite its number of tracks, and very few of these songs are throwaways. This used to be my favorite album of his, but I think there’s something generally missing from his work in the 80’s. It’s still fantastic and damned near flawless, but I don’t listen to it as much as I used to. Tough to deny the power of “Cemetery Polka” and “Tango ‘Til They’re Sore” though.

3. Real Gone (2004)

I liked this album when it was released. I love it now. It’s arguably the most bizarre original release (I’m not counting The Black Rider due to its nature as a musical score thingie), with this odd combination of what can only be described as a take on negro spirituals like “Sins of the Father” and “Make it Rain,” with whatever the hell ‘Baby Gonna Leave Me” is, as well as some more solid as a rock ballads. And there’s no piano to be found. NONE. And it features Tom Waits beatboxing, which might be the most demonic sound ever put to tape. “Hoist That Rag” has quietly become my favorite song in the Tom Waits canon, and this album might continue to creep up the all time charts for me.

2. Small Change (1976)

The transition into Tom Waits’ full-time blues persona that would last for the rest of the 70’s. This features two of the best ballads of Tom’s career, the famous “Tom Traubert’s Blues” and the devastating “Invitation to the Blues,” as well as the spoken word title track and the surrealism of “The Piano Has Been Drinking (Not Me)”. Every song’s a hit, and it strongly evokes both the 70’s and the 40’s at the same time. You can’t go wrong with this album.

1. Bone Machine (1991)

This is the definitive album about death. And I mean DEATH. This thing does not mess around. It’s pure perfection from top to bottom, features some of Waits’ crazier vocals (The breathy falsetto of “Dirt in the Ground” is apparently referred to as his “Prince” voice), and the single greatest break up song in the history of music in “Who Are You?”. I can’t gush enough about this record. The percussion is insane, and basically consisted of Waits, his wife and a bunch of other folks banging sticks on anything they could find that would make a percussive noise when hit. The album is dark and mysterious and foreboding, incredibly cohesive and moody. I think it’s the single best album released by anyone ever. I will always cherish it. Always.

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This post was written to the tune of That Handsome Devil’s Enlightenment’s for Suckers

Heroes Week: The Brütal Legend of Tim Schafer

This week, I’m going to be looking at (hopefully) five heroes of mine from five different sections of the entertainment industry. I’ll be covering video games, music, movies, television, and fiction writing. I’m beginning the week with an article about the man that inspired heroes week in the first place: Tim Schafer.

When I was growing up, I played a lot of video games. I still do in some respect, but my life was more centered around gaming back then than it is now. I’ve had consoles for as long as I can remember dating back to the Atari 2600. I have a lot of good memories from the consoles of my youth, but what I actively look back at with the fondest memories was the era of the graphic adventure. Graphic adventures existed and were named as such at the time to differentiate themselves from text adventure games (Zork, for example), because this was the original wave of true adventure games that had, well, graphics. The lion’s chare of these games were so-called “point and click” games for the very reason that they were controlled by a cursor on the screen that you would point and click at things to move your character around and interact with objects in the world. There were two companies that mattered in the 90’s when it came to point and click graphic adventures. Sierra shipped out these games in startling volume, thanks mostly to the “Quest” series of games (King’s Quest, Space Quest, Police Quest, Quest for Glory, et al), all of which had at least four installments. The other side of the coin was LucasArts, who was stepping out from beyond the licensed property game to create new intellectual property like the Monkey Island series and Maniac Mansion. I played the hell out of games from both companies, but always tended to gravitate toward LucasArts. Their games had more of a feel of whimsy, and were also very famous because it was impossible to die or get truly stuck in basically all of their games. One of the true stalwarts of both the graphic adventure genre and LucasArts throughout the 90’s was Tim Schafer.

Schafer got his start working on the NES port of Maniac Mansion. The first entirely new game he helped design while at Lucas was The Secret of Monkey Island, the original adventure of one Guybrush Threepwood. He also worked on the sequels of both Monkey Island (LeChuck’s Revenge) and Maniac Mansion (Day of the Tentacle), as well as standalone games like Full Throttle and Grim Fandango. This, to me, was the golden age of video gaming. The stories were incredible, the art design was second to none, and Schafer was at the front of the pack, just constantly putting out solid gold entertainment. And he didn’t stop there. Schafer created his own development company, Double Fine Productions, and has since put out two games under that banner, Psychonauts and Brütal Legend. These are the first games Schafer has done outside the point and click graphic adventure genre, and he’s still got it. I don’t think there’s anyone out there working on games right now that can write on the level of Tim Schafer. And it’s not just simply writing jokes (although he is REALLY GOOD at writing jokes). The stories themselves are deep and enjoyable and complex in their own rights, which makes these games rise above simply being jokey with no substance. It’s exceptional design from all aspects.

I’m trying to keep these articles somewhat short, but I’m going to end every one with a top five list. Today’s is…

Top Five Tim Schafer Games

5. Full Throttle (PC, 1995)

I love Full Throttle, but I think it’s on the weaker side of the Schafer canon. I think part of that is because the story itself doesn’t speak to me the way all his other games do. It’s the beginning of his less actively funny period, in that it was not a game that was as abjectly jokey as his previous games. I really enjoy it, and even the weakest of Schafer’s games is a hell of a lot better than most of what gets released on a regular basis.

4. Maniac Mansion: Day of the Tentacle (PC, 1993)

Day of the Tentacle is a fiendishly original story. It’s got one of the more iconic villains in video game history in Purple Tentacle, and such a great design gimmick of multiple timelines. It’s such a wonderful way to set up puzzles, trying to figure out how you can change things in the past to affect the future and get things you need to the people that need them. It’s a flawless setup (which is a hell of an impressive feat considering the heavy use of time travel), the humor is there, and it managed to eclipse Maniac Mansion in every possible way ever. The fact that it’s number 4 on this list just proves the prowess of Tim Schafer as a game developer.

3. Psychonauts (Xbox, 2005)

Schafer leaves his comfy home of graphic adventures to release a full on action platformer. The story of Psychonauts would probably be Schafer’s best if not for the first game on this list; you play the role of a psychic secret agent in training at a sleepaway camp where some bad mojo is going down. Just about every stage in the platformer takes place in a different character’s mind, and each mind is specifically designed to reflect that characters mental state, as well as whatever psychoses or instabilities that exist magnified to an extreme degree. The platforming itself does get maddening at one point, but it does not detract from the overall polish of the game. Wonderful.

2. Monkey Island 2: LeChuck’s Revenge (PC, 1991)

The best story and the best puzzles of all the Monkey Island games. This wasn’t a Schafer original; he was still working with Ron Gilbert and Dave Grossman as on the original Monkey Island title. There are so many memories about this game, from Stan’s used coffin store, to the Rapp Scallion story line, to the wide open portion of the game where you go to find the map pieces, to the final sequence leading to the undeniably bat-shit insane ending. It’s very much the game that set graphic adventures out into the stratosphere and allowed for such games as Full Throttle and Day of the Tentacle to be possible.

1. Grim Fandango (PC, 1998)

The highest echelon of PC gaming. This is, in short, the best PC game I have ever played. The art design is absolutely gorgeous. That 1920’s art deco style mixed with the hard boiled narrative noir of the 40’s combined with the mythos and art of the Mexican Day of the Dead, and you’ve got a singular experience like no other. The only possible problem with the game is the fact that the interface, the first of its kind to be controlled by keyboard and not require pointing and clicking with the mouse, is not the best. It’s very apparent that this was LucasArts’ first attempt at this control scheme, and it’s not as elegant as the mouse control. Even still, the art design, voice acting, and story are so overpoweringly strong that it is easy to overlook the small foible of the clunky but still functional control scheme. I love this game. It’s one of the absolute best of all time in any genre. It’s the main reason I consider Tim Schafer a personal hero.

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This post was written to the tune of That Handsome Devil’s A City Dressed in Dynamite