I finally had an opportunity to watch the documentary Superheroes on HBO this week. I also read my friend Will’s write-up on the movie, and I think he was far too easy on the filmmaker and his subjects. What these people are doing is dangerous. They are endangering themselves, the people around them in public when they attempt to fight crime, and potentially their families and loved ones.
Nearly all of the subjects had a history of having been physically abused, witnessed physical abuse, or a personal account of drug abuse and/or violence. I would have preferred the filmmaker explore the psychological issues that may have led these people to put on a costume and, oftentimes, hide behind a mask and attempt to fight crime. The impact this pursuit has had on the “heroes” real life – day jobs, relationships, family – would have been far more interesting than following them on “patrols.”
The obvious path these people should be taking is to follow a career in law enforcement, but given the histories of many of these “heroes,” that simply isn’t a viable option. But there are other opportunities to do good in one’s community instead of the bait-patrol tactics some of these folks use. The Jewish hero calling himself “Life” in NYC and the couple in Portland, Oregon – Zetaman and Apocalypse Meow, didn’t come off as superheroes so much as people reaching out to their respective homeless communities while wearing costumes.
While San Diego’s Mr. Xtreme seems to have his heart in the right place in his attempts to raise awareness of violent crimes and sex criminals, I think it was stunningly irresponsible of the Deputy Mayor to honor this “superhero” and provide a forum for him to promote his activities. Mr. Xtreme’s parents were compelling in their disapproval of their son’s hobby, and Apocalypse Meow was fascinating in that when her significant other revealed his Zetaman hero identity to her she protested, then not only enabled him, but has joined him.
By definition, vigilantes believe their government/police force is ineffective, and many of these “heroes” expressed that exact sentiment as motivation behind their pursuit. Superheroes could have been a fascinating psychological exploration and a cautionary tale, instead it comes off as a confused film that can’t decide if it wants to glorify a group of vigilantes or mock them.
When I first got back into comics I frequented a few online forums. I made some good friends from all over the world and getting to see them is what makes going to cons so great these days. But there are the other folks on forums that make things unpleasant hiding behind their inflated egos, careless derision, and safe anonymity. Those people, along with a very busy family life and a job that involves travel, have moved any kind of online forum activity completely off my priorities list. But POP!: The Comic Culture Club is a different animal.
Back in February, in the middle of the day, I saw a tweet from Marc Sumerak about a local comic club meeting taking place that evening in Parma Heights. Literally, the day of the first meeting, I heard about it and decided to take a chance. I had met Marc on a couple of occasions (and even wrote about the first time we met in my book Deus ex Comica – page 113 for those of you playing along at home) and knew him to be a good guy, so I figured I’d give it a go.
I love the openness of the group – even at that first meeting, it was obvious that most everyone else in the room knew each other previously, but I never felt like an outsider. And even though there are clear “Marvel” and “DC” lines drawn among the group, there is no animosity or mean-spiritedness about the discussion. The conversations are often more about curiosity (“Tell me what DC did with this” or “Hey, how did Marvel handle a similar situation” kind of talk) than anything even remotely resembling trash talk. I think that’s a credit to how Marc and fellow club organizer Jae Fitch established the meetings from the get-go. That I could say I’d never read the Death of Superman or fellow club member Dave could say he’d never read Miller’s Daredevil run and no one goes into over-the-top histrionics is a testament to the sincerity of the group.
I have no problem making time once every couple of weeks to drive 40 minutes each way to meet up with some likeminded people to talk about a culture we love for a couple of hours. POP! is like having the best of all worlds – the comic-centric discussions of forums without the snark and the great face-to-face interaction of hanging out at a comic shop or con.
Having said all that, life does sometimes get in the way of comics. I did pretty good making the first few months’ worth of meetings, but work travel and family obligations do still take priority when scheduling conflicts arise. While these are all very good reasons to miss POP! meetings, it doesn’t mean I don’t miss being a part of this great community when I have to skip a gathering.
Most meetings begin with an open forum on current events – a newly released comic-based movie or trailer, whatever comic-related news is the current hot topic, or maybe a follow-up thought from the previous meeting, or anything else on your mind. From there, the conversation moves to the chosen main topic of the night. Themes are just specific enough to generate conversation, but generally broad enough to never feel too confining. Past topics include Death in Comics, Cosmic Comics, Genre Comics, and Comic Worlds. Upcoming meetings will focus on Legendary Battles, Superheroes without Super Powers, Anti-Heroes, and more.
I want this club to see continued success, which is why I do what I can to promote the group on the web and in conversations and try to recruit new members wherever possible. As a direct result of the meetings, I’ve gotten to know Marc better. It’s also been great to reconnect with my other buddy Mark (who I hadn’t seen in over 20 years prior to getting him to show up to a POP! Club meeting!) and meeting Chuck from Star Joes podcast (who I’d never met in person, but had been corresponding with and trying to coordinate meeting for over a year). And there are people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet exclusively through the club, like Jason and the aforementioned Dave, who I have tremendous respect for and see as the DC yin to my Marvel yang.
Over the months I’ve watched our club grow from a handful of us at that first meeting to upwards of two-dozen attendees each meeting. Gatherings officially run from 7 to 8:30 on designated Wednesday evenings, but conversations invariably linger until the library closes at 9. It was obvious from almost the very beginning an “after-meeting” venue was necessary to keep the conversation going into the night, and the post-meeting gatherings around town are a good thing.
But with all this interpersonal contact, that’s all not to imply there isn’t an online presence for the club. There is an official Twitter feed and, although I’m not on Facebook, there is a Facebook group. I’m hopeful we can get a lot of the members on Google+ soon, too, because I think the circles and huddles concepts lend themselves beautifully to what this club is all about and would be another way to be an active part of the club between meetings. There has been talk of recording meetings for a podcast, but I think by virtue of our size that probably just isn’t a realistic option any more (a happy problem to have outgrown the idea already).
I recognize that among comic cities, New York, Chicago, and Portland, Oregon, seem to be the hotspots, but with POP! I like to think we’re carving out our own respectable, organized community of comic book fans and professionals here in Northeast Ohio. Everyone’s welcome!
POP! Summer 2011 Schedule
August 03: “Fight of the Century: Legendary Battles” * Parma South Library (7335 Ridge Rd., Parma)
August 17: “Rise of the Everyman: Superheroes Without Superpowers” * ParmaTown Denny’s (8111 Day Dr., Parma)
August 31: “I Walk The Line: Vigilantes and Anti-Heroes”
September 14: “Toys! Adventure in the Palm of Your Hand”
September TBA: “POP!Corn Movie Night”
October 19: “How to Make Comics (The Sumerak Way!)”
POP!: The Comic Culture Club meetings take place from 7-8:30pm at the Parma Heights Public Library (6206 Pearl Rd, Parma Heights) unless otherwise noted. All meeting dates are Wednesdays (new comic day!).
I didn’t actually see MTV when it debuted on August 1, 1981. Oh, I’d heard about it. I had friends in the next town over who had it, and I’d seen the “I want my MTV” ads (but that must have been while at my friends’ houses because I have to think that was a basic cable ad).
When I finally saw MTV, it was at my buddy Dave’s. I can picture his parents’ house and just where the television was positioned and the feeling of hanging out there. And I remember the very first video I saw at his house: Saga’s “On the Loose”. It was pretty typical fare for early MTV, a basic performance shoot interspersed with a literal (and somewhat pedestrian) prison break storyline. But that was my first, and it did exactly what the corporate music industry wanted it to: It prompted me to buy Saga’s Worlds Apart album on cassette tape (my first – I’d bought 8-tracks up to that point). There are all kinds of retrospectives about MTV turning 30, and I remember how revolutionary the station really was in the early ’80s once we actually got basic cable in our house and could watch the artists come to life in short-form anytime I wanted. And I remember the release of the “Thriller” video being an event, and watching the channel’s coverage of Live Aid, and witnessing the beginning of the end for MTV as a music video channel with the debut of Remote Control and the final nail in that coffin a few years later with the premiere of Real World. But it’s the personal details that frame the larger cultural touchstones and bestow importance upon them, and a previously unheard of and long since forgotten Saga is among those particulars for me.
Nine Inch Nails 27 June 2006: Blossom Music Center, Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio
Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor is a folk hero in these parts. A musician friend of mine once observed, “Everybody in Northeast Ohio has a Trent story.” And she’s right. My wife has hers (tales of Trent dating her best friend and of watching Trent play in his garage), I have mine (memories of Trent frequenting the record shop I worked at, bringing in and playing demos of what would become Pretty Hate Machine) and our friends have theirs. Even now, over 20 years after he arrived in Cleveland, Reznor’s impact on the local music landscape is as legendary as the way he changed the face of industrial music on a global scale. Given all that history, when he plays here, the shows seem to be about more than just the music.
I have seen Nine Inch Nails in concert more times than I can count, and all of them at assorted hole-in-the-wall Cleveland bars and venues in support of Pretty Hate Machine in the late ’80s and early ’90s. The debut album was a perfect storm: The fury and passion behind the lyrics mixed with a completely different sound that bled into my world; I found it at a time when I was also discovering new sides of myself. The album came along at just the right time to be the single most influential collection of songs in my life before or since. For that reason, I originally approached Reznor’s homecoming show with reservation. But at the urging of my wife, and the opportunity to see Goth godfathers Bauhaus, I was persuaded.
And when Bauhaus strolled on stage amid fog machines and white light for their hour-long set, I knew I had made the right decision. It was strange to see the founders of the Goth movement playing while the sun was still up. The rains and humidity had created real fog just off to the left of the amphitheater stage, carrying the theatrics into the crowd of Goth girls in black prom dresses and punks who weren’t around when Bauhaus originally formed. We were close enough to the stage to see the band well, but far enough away to preserve my original images of the group in their heyday.
Songs like “Double Dare”, “In the Flat Field”, “Rosegarden Funeral of Sores”, and the one-two closers “Stigmata Martyr” and “Dark Entries” all sounded as fresh as they do on 1982’s live effort, Press the Eject and Give Me the Tape. Thoughts of an album of new material danced through the heads of the faithful as the new tunes, “Adrenaline” and “Endless Summer of the Damned”, were unveiled -- although the latter was slight on substance and long on cliché (as evidenced by the title), even for these guys.
The sibling rhythm section of Kevin Haskins and David J carried the show, and you could feel the muscular beats pulsing in your chest. Peter Murphy’s singing was spot on, and he sounded every bit the English gentleman, even as he bitched out the lighting people from the stage – pointing out the differences between left and right and telling them not to fuck it up again. Daniel Ash, sporting a white shag carpet vest and oversized bug-eye sunglasses, was the consummate glam rock guitarist. And his on-stage shtick was the same as it was 25 years ago – stalking the stage, playing guitar on his knees, and punctuating songs with his saxophone skronk.
During Bauhaus’ set, the rains stopped and the temperature dropped. Blossom’s lawn took on mudslide qualities and visions of Reznor’s infamous Woodstock appearance were replaying in my mind. Although the mosh pit in front of the stage was complemented nicely by a mud pit at the base of the sloping lawn, a recreation of the literal mud-slinging of that ’94 incident never materialized here. Shortly after sunset, the house lights dimmed, and the deafening roar of the crowd was supplanted by the slow build of “Somewhat Damaged” – the first of five songs off of 1999’s The Fragile. (The song selection was the most curious aspect of the show. Apart from the new song, “Non Entity”, the band only played three songs off of the support album, With Teeth, and three off of the critical and popular darling, The Downward Spiral. Four songs each were played off of Pretty Hate Machine and the stop-gap Broken EP.)
Hearing songs that I had never previously experienced live was a treat. The folding cage of lights that was lowered and raised throughout the show was partially down during “Closer” – where the center section slowly “filled” with red Matrix-style dashes and blips of light, but it was the funky workout of Broken’s “Suck” towards the end of the set that really stood out. The touring band, which includes Jordie White (formerly Twiggy Ramirez of Marilyn Manson’s band) and Josh Freese (who has played with Akron’s Devo), allowed the song to retain its aggressive nature while stretching and breathing in a groove.
While “Hurt” was an expected showstopper, it exceeded expectations. Reznor was exposed, alone on keyboards, and it was as intimate as any of the 100-listener shows I saw him perform over two decades ago. Something about the ringing piano and Reznor’s melodies never seem quite right, they always seem broken – musically, emotionally. Although the song isn’t a sing-along, per se, the crowd made it one in the most reverential of ways and as the band came in at the end for a beautiful slow burn, there was nothing left but passion.
Of the new songs, “Only” could be the next “Down In It”. From its emphasis on synthesizers to Reznor’s more-rapping-than-singing approach to the “tiniest little dot” lyrical reference, the song is a throwback to the Pretty Hate Machine material.
Things got arena-rock clichéd, though, during the chorus, when too-clever lighting took the focus off the band and put it on the crowd during “There is no you” and reversed the effect during the “There is only me” lines. The clap-along to “The Hand that Feeds” also treaded the cliché, but that is today’s Nine Inch Nails – including a Reznor who has transformed himself from skinny kid into Henry Rollins’ little brother, complete with ’roid-y muscles, sleeveless shirts, and a buzz cut.
Although I understand what Reznor has done with his music (and image, for that matter), I have had a love/hate relationship with him since the early days, when he wrote the soundtrack for my life and then turned around and marketed it to frat boys. And “The Hand that Feeds” almost seems like an acknowledgement, an apology for it – “What if the whole crusade’s a charade / And behind it all there’s a price to be paid... Just how deep do you believe? / Will you bite the hand that feeds?... Are you brave enough to see it? / Do you want to change it?” – wrapped in a neat industrial-pop package, of course.
This night, it was the Pretty Hate Machine cuts that were the most amazing. I had forgotten how powerful these songs are when played live. The synths of “Something I Can Never Have” were mixed behind the chest-rumbling bass and stripped-bare vocals, complete with a cough by Reznor that made it all the more real. Synths poked through the guitars’ wall of sound like glass stabbing at skin on “Down In It”, and the party spun out of control during the set closing “Head Like a Hole”. Ferocious, angry, exhilarating. Hands and voices were raised as one: “Bow down before the one you serve!” The crowd noise was deafening as the house lights came up, the cage lowered, and the “NIN” logo was flashed in lights on it. No need for an encore.
Regardless of the mixed up nostalgia and confusion that accompanies growing older and watching your heroes do the same, everything about this show felt right. And between songs, Reznor summed it all up perfectly when he told the crowd, “It’s good to be home. All grown up.”
(Edited versions of this piece have been published by PopMatters and Field’s Edge.)
Disney Live in Concert – Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, with the Blossom Festival Orchestra and Chorus (Conducted by Richard Kaufman) 16 July 2011: Blossom Music Center, Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio
Summer in Ohio. If you can stand the humidity, it can be pretty amazing. Bike rides, hiking, lightening bugs, farmers markets, and outdoor concerts. Nestled in the Cuyahoga Valley National Park, Blossom Music Center has been around since 1968 and the summer home of the Cleveland Orchestra for all those years. Although I was originally exposed to Blossom through contemporary music acts, in the years since returning to Northeast Ohio, we have enjoyed the orchestra in their summer home on numerous occasions, like seeing and hearing them score Looney Tunes on the big screens and attending Star Wars in Concert. And this past Saturday night, the orchestra provided the full underscore to a screening of Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl.
Say what you will about the sequels (because, boy, are they hard to watch), the original Pirates of the Caribbean movie is clever and funny and intense and full of action! We were very excited to have a family night out to experience one of our favorite movies at one of our favorite venues in such a unique way.
When you attend a rock concert at Blossom, you aren't allowed to bring anything into the amphitheater and are searched and bags are inspected and the whole nine. When you attend a Cleveland Orchestra Blossom Festival event you are encouraged to bring your own food and drink (yes, alcohol, too), come early to picnic, and are never searched and no bags are ever checked. Oh, and kids under 18 are FREE. So, we had a light early dinner, and packed up some cheese and crackers, grapes and plums, some bottled water, a couple bottles of Longboard, mixed drinks, some folding chairs, blankets, and a Frisbee, and headed out to Blossom around 7 for the 9pm show.
Divided between pavilion and lawn, Tracy and I generally prefer pavilion for rock concerts and lawn for orchestra shows. It's nice to spread out with your blankets and lawn chairs and coolers and enjoy a night under the stars. The lawn was moderately full at 7:30, and was jam-packed by 9, but we had a sweet spot where we could see one of the jumbo screens and the orchestra doing its thing on stage. The kiddo and I killed time between our arrival and show starting by heading over to the north lawn to toss the Frisbee around among the other attendees with their footballs and baseballs and volleyballs and such. By the time we made our way back to Tracy and our spot on the lawn, the late-day humidity was pretty thick (especially after chasing a Frisbee around for half an hour!), but nothing a beer for me and bottle of water for the kiddo couldn't cure.
Just as Mother Nature provided her own dramatic “dimming of the house lights,” we broke out our glow sticks, and the show began right on time. The mosquitoes never bothered us, although there was a nip in the air after the sun went down. It was a damp chill that must’ve had as much to do with the humidity as the temperature, but we had blankets and each other to help stay comfortable.
The orchestra was amazing, as always. Tracy and I ended up commenting throughout the entire weekend how amazing it is to realize the music was being played right there in front of us while we watched one of our favorite movies! With the intermission, the movie didn’t wrap up until nearly midnight, but the late night was absolutely worth any exhaustion we felt Sunday. The score for the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie is so iconic and recognizable; it was a natural fit for an exercise like this, and a perfect way to spend a summer Saturday night in Northeast Ohio.
I love hanging out with John. And a few Saturday’s ago, we had some time free of family responsibilities and decided to meet up at the Hartville Flea Market. It’s in the town where we grew up and, although it lacks the charm it held when we were younger, it can still yield the random, unexpected treasure.
Working our way through the stalls, we found a vendor selling comics. As I flipped through row after row of bagged and boarded single issues, I stumbled on Marvel’s Generic Comic Book. When I pulled it out of the longbox and held up the stark black and white cover, John glanced over at it and then me and asked if I’d ever seen that comic before. I answered, “no,” gobsmacking him right alongside me. It’s cover dated 1984 – clearly right in my wheelhouse, but remained under my radar for nearly 30 years!
I’m not naive enough to believe I know every Marvel comic of the era, but their quirky one-offs and stunt publishing endeavors always seemed to hold particular sway over me. Obnoxio the Clown vs. the X-Men. Marvel Tails, Starring Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham. Marvel Team-Up #74 between Spider-Man and the Not Ready For Prime Time Players. The adaptation of the TV show Sledge Hammer. The entire Assistant Editors’ Month run. (A collection of comics I adore so much, I devote an entire chapter of my book, Deus ex Comica, to the event!) But Generic Comic Book was an unknown quantity.
The price was right, so I decided to give it a go. I pulled it out of the taped-shut bag when I got home, and found no writing or art credits in it, only a “Stan Lee presents” banner across the splash page. I’m ok with that, actually. I mean, it’s generic, so nameless seems appropriate. It took some digging online, but the ever-reliable Comic Book Database tells me that Steve Skeates wrote the book and Larry Hama edited it. No idea who drew it, though.
According to the interwebs, Skeates worked for the legendary Warren Publishing in the 1970s (Creepy, Eerie, etc.), then wrote Generic Comic Book after being out of the industry for a brief time. One story claims Hama asked Skeates to write the book and that led to him getting the writing gig for the Peter Porker ongoing of 1984 that spun out of that Marvel Tails mentioned earlier.
As I was sitting down to read the book, a few thoughts swirled through my head... I wondered if the contents would be geared towards my 13 year-old self, or if it would be a more sophisticated satire that my present, adult self would better appreciate. Turns out, neither version of me found it all that remarkable. Even though I didn’t feel the book succeeded (the story wasn’t particularly entertaining and the art was dodgy throughout), maybe it actually did. I mean, maybe it’s entirely appropriate for a generic comic book to be somewhat bland and to play broad.
At various points throughout Super 8 I asked myself, "Is this movie better than E.T.?"
Where E.T. – The Extra-Terrestrial was my childhood world in real-time, Super 8 was still just a recreation of my youth through the clever use of childhood artifacts. That's not to say Super 8 is derivative. An homage? Yes. A love letter to the imprint Spielberg left on our collective childhood? Absolutely. But it stands on its own, rarely trying to be too clever; trading on its 1979 authenticity for a cheap nod-and-wink only once with some brief, non-essential (and unfortunately anachronistic) dialog about the Walkman.
With Super 8, writer-director J.J. Abrams has reclaimed the ’70s. Not as the camp joke it has become in our shared memory through disco, bell-bottoms, and That ’70s Show, but as it really felt when we were living it, unassumingly woven into the fabric of everyday lives.
From start to finish, Super 8 enveloped me. I knew the smell of Joe’s bedroom and the feel of Charles’ family’s kitchen. The familiarity of small town Ohio and the freedom of spending summer on your bike were as tangible here as they were my everyday reality 30 years ago. Abrams somehow captured the wonder of a late ’70s Midwestern childhood, fused it with Spielbergian tropes (like a single-parent household and extra-terrestrial elements), and came up with something so authentic, so genuine, it transcends the sentimental.
So, is Super 8 better than E.T.? I can only seem to answer the question this way: E.T. was the perfect movie for 11 year-old me, just as Super 8 – cut from the same cloth in terms of story, tone, and execution – is the perfect version of E.T. for 40 year-old me.
When the credits began to roll at the end of Super 8, Tracy turned to me and said, "That was awesome." Plastered to my theater seat with a nostalgic lump in my throat, I knew what she meant.
I finally had an opportunity to watch the documentary Superheroes on HBO this week. I also read my friend Will’s write-up on the movie, and I think he was far too easy on the filmmaker and his subjects. What these people are doing is dangerous. They are endangering themselves, the people around them in public when they attempt to fight crime, and potentially their families and loved ones.
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