[face of a franchise presents two individuals that’ve fulfilled the same role. your task — choose the better of the two and defend your choice in the rancor pit that is the comments section]

Terminator 2: Judgment Day is a flick that has everything going for it – groundbreaking special effects, a story that adds a unique twist to the original film, and Conan the goddamn Destroyer! But all of these structures are supported by the crux that is Edward Furlong’s performance as John Connor. After all, this figure is the boy who would grow up to be the man that leads the resistance against the robo-tyrants. Barely a teen during the filming, Furlong paints a flawless portrait of a boy who is without hope before being visited by two time-travelers – one Austrian super-machine who wants to save him and one Agent Doggett who wants to kill him.

At this point, it’s a classic tale. And without Furlong, I’m not sure it would be.

A few years later, Hollywood decided that there were more diamonds to be mined out of Mount Terminator. Thus, more sequels were commissioned. Due to some mysterious circumstances *cough*drugs*cough* Edward Furlong was not invited to reprise the role of John Connor. Utter bullshit, I say! Who cares if Furlong’s strung out on China White? Couldn’t a good director use that? Hell, John Connor’s a man rising against supercomputer overlords, shouldn’t he seem exhausted?

Whatever, man. It’s just politics, as per usual. Totally.

In any case, the sequels saw John Connor portrayed by two different schmohawks. In Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines Nick Stahl was thrust into the role of humanity’s savior. Stahl was a shoo-in for the face of the high-action franchise, seeing as he had starred in Mel Gibson’s directorial debut. In Terminator Salvation, Christian Bale put his own spin on the character of John Connor. Uneasy about filling the shoes of his predecessors, Bale called upon the assistance of some of our generation’s greatest actors, individuals of unquestionable integrity.

It’s clear that Bale wanted nothing but professionalism on the set of T4.

Nick Stahl or Christian Bale – who is the better John Connor?

Read the rest of this entry »

[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

Spoilers Ahead. Forreal.

Don’t listen to Caffeine Powered.

Well, actually, you should — he’s a smart guy and is generally on-the-ball with all of the latest news pertaining to comics, video juegos, movies, sports, and all that other shit I live my life by. As the firstborn in the family, he taught me that superheroes aren’t just creeps in spandex and that the entire …And Justice for All album is a goddamn anthem. And so, I tip my cap to him.

But on Tuesday, Caffeine Powered wrote some pretty hurtful things about time travel. I won’t quote him verbatim, but his general argument is that between comics, television, and movies, time-hoppin’ has become pretty played out. I won’t deny the fact that it’s become almost ubiquitous, an apparent necessity for any franchise with even the slightest of science fictional properties. And maybe I should be a bit more pessimistic, pissed off that one of my favorite plot devices has been misappropriated as a plaything for retard America.

But I’m still pretty stoked on time travel. And I guess that’s why Caffeine Powered and I are the dynamic duo of nerdcore brothers; between the two of us, we’re bound to be digging some shit that the mainstream doesn’t talk about at the dinner table.

So while big brother is approaching The Return of Bruce Wayne with cautious enthusiasm, I have a nerd-lust that defies physics. One issue in and I’m already a total believer in this miniseries. Yeah, Grant Morrison’s last attempt at a big event was a total mindfuck and he’s been known to get kooky from time to time. But he’s been kicking ass ever since that last debacle and I’ve been questioning reality on a daily basis.

So what do I make of a time-lost Batman blindly stumbling through the centuries? What if he’s not sure how he came to be in his current predicament? What if he has to fend off the enemies indigenous to each era? Well, I think it sounds like a damn fine comic book.

And, so far, it is.

The first issue of The Return of Bruce Wayne sees Gotham’s favorite son chilling in the prehistoric times of cavemen. These cave people are just like us — they divide themselves into rival tribes, fight one another for arbitrary reasons, and occasionally smoke cigarettes. Of course, Brucie (despite being too messed up in the brain-piece to even feign coherence) aligns himself with the sympathetic Deer People. They recognize him as one of the “shining ones” and believe a fallen rocket ship to be his; they treat him with reverence and wished their Old Man lived long enough to have a conversation with him. So when the villainous Blood Mob comes to fuck shit up the Batman has to come to the rescue.

He isn’t completely successful, but he manages to defeat their chief…while wearing the hide of a giant bat as a damn costume. It’s wonderful.

Throughout the entire ordeal, Bruce never really gets to speak (again, he’s still woozy from being shot through time). While I can see fans griping about this, I like where Morrison is headed; rather than relying on the exposition of a super-detective, the reader gets to experience the comic from the perspective of the time’s natural inhabitants. So in this issue, Bruce Wayne’s journey is described through primitive speculation. For instance, notice how the leader of the Blood Mob announces his arrival;

THE CHIEF WHO SCARES DEATH HAS RETURNED!

CONQUERING CHIEF SAVAGE BRINGS GIFTS FROM THE FORBIDDEN LAND!

A SKY-CART OF THE BRIGHT ONES!

FOUR SCALPS OF DEER WARRIORS!

AND A MAN-GOD WHO CAME FROM ABOVE TO CHALLENGE ME!

Could this come off as hokey? Sure. But Morrison’s script is backed up by the more than legit art of Chris Sprouse and Karl Story. This speech is accompanied by a two-page spread of Blood Mob revelry. We get to see skulls impaled on spikes, fires being danced around, and a close-up of a savage snacking on a huge hunk of…heart? brain? I’m not sure, but it’s something fleshy and gross.

Seriously, this art is beautiful and I think that a great deal of credit should be awarded to Karl Story’s colors. During the introduction to the Deer People, the skyline is painted with shades of light red and pink, offering a sense of liveliness and fading hope. But as the interlopers make their way into camp, Story shifts into dark grey, dark blue, and good `ole black; only fire brightens up these panels and it adds dramatic tension. By filling in Sprouse’s pencils, Karl Story deftly sets the unspoken tone for The Return of Bruce Wayne.

By the issue’s end, Batman has fended off the bad guys, saved a young member of the Deer People and unknowingly shifted forwards in time. Right after Bruce hops ahead on the timeline, Superman, Green Lantern and Booster Gold pop into the prehistoric era. They’re dismayed to realize that he is no longer there. In fact, their disappointment takes a turn for the ominous as they discuss the necessity of finding their comrade;

Green Lantern: Batman has no memory of who he is. He has no idea what’s happening to him.

Booster Gold: What chance does he have? Even he can’t make it.

Superman: You are joking, right? He can survive anywhere. Anytime. Surviving is what he does. But if he survives this, if he does the impossible again…If Batman makes it back to the 21^st century on his own…everyone dies.

Oh shit! Hey Booster Gold, why don’t you shut the fuck up?!?! Fucking dumb-dumb.

The Return of Bruce Wayne is over-the-top, filled with shit I’m not sure I quite grasp yet, and serves as the beginning to the unfortunate end of Dick Grayson’s reign as Batman. With that being said, the book still works. And it works well. If you give me time-travel, caveman beatdowns, and the goddamn Batman I’m going to enjoy it.

[Remember That Time On LOST is a daily post running the entire month up until the season premiere of LOST on February 2nd. I’m going to just pick something awesome, noteworthy, or ludicrous about LOST when I wake up that morning, and hopefully get you geeks talking about it with me.]

LOST didn’t jump the shark. Lost jumped the fucking Island.

Do you remember where you were when Ben jumped the Island? Do you remember when you were? I sure do. I was sitting in a pile of my own disbelieving fluids on my futon. It was the moment where LOST went from sort-of-crazy, to absolutely insane. It went from the guy who used to come into the Shell station I worked at who always ordered forty-two cents of gas, to the other guy at Shell who used to pick cigarettes out of the outdoor ashtrays and mumble to himself while drooling. Both crazy, but different shades for sure.

LOST had always hinted at time-travel. You know, played with the penis tip of insanity. A little flick here, a little rub there. But it was just toying with the concept. And I mean, can you really blame them? The unwashed masses who vomit up onto themselves while watching Everybody Likes Three And a Half Pedophiles Named Raymond aren’t much for time traveling, are they? They like jokes where the unfunny guy makes a comment that casts him as a buffoon to his wife, who just happens to be way too good looking for such an inept douche.

Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse, who shall be known as The Geeks With Balls of Enormity introduced time travel into a big budget show on a major network. Maybe my generation aren’t just a bunch of people spray-tanned orange and strung out on pills! Maybe they’re a people spray-tanned orange, strung out on pills, and down with some serious mind-intercoursing!

The moment itself is epic. It is so wonderfully apparent that the writers of LOST can’t do anything simple. There’s no magic lever that Ben pulls to jump the Island. There’s no single red button. No, Ben descends into an ancient cavern, cast in frost, and yanks on a wheel. It’s all so absurd and wonderful and it makes me gleeful that they’ve been able to tell this story, despite the fact that I have absolutely no idea what the Island is, why a donkey wheel can shift bodies of land, or why this wheel is in the heart of the Island, which just so happens to be bound in ice and snow.

And so Ben shifts the Island, and in doing so unbounds the show from yet another set of rules. Forwards, backwards, even perhaps laterally, the show can move in time. The show wipes its ass with past conventions of narrative and has sort of just made it up as it goes along. They take hypertextuality to a new level.

At first the show moved backwards from the present to the character’s past lives. Then it moves from the present, to the past, and also to the future. And when Ben moves the Island, dislodging the weird wheel that looks likes its from a Zelda game, the show moves in well, any direction. The present is an illusion, cast upon our lives by our mortal brains! In the next season, the present becomes a variety of moments, differing from character to character. And even then, the ‘present’ for someone can be all totally like 2004, then 1952, then 1976! Or something! Holy shit! Free your mind from common ideas of linearity!

Or be like me, and get nosebleeds and dance in the blood of your confusion! MUWHAHAHAHAHA.

The Island jumps and takes with it the remnants of narrative structure holding it in. Or maybe. I don’t know. As a literature major, I sort of want to argue with myself about this. I mean, clearly there is a structure, it is just not a linear one. Or maybe it’s a linear one, but perhaps that straight line appears non-linear, because of the times it weaves through. Or is non-linearity just an illusion, and…Alright, I just had the hugest moment of deja vu typing this, and I’m wondering if the donkey wheel is off its fucking axis.

But poof! The Island disappears! And it suffers a fate onto the writing of the show other than really taking away any constraints for what the writers can do. It also allows the Island to jump around in time, showing characters as we have never seen them, as well as giving us glimpses into what the Island looked like before. We get to see Taweret in her entirety, we get to see Alpert looking all gorgeous and brooding in the past. Never aging. Eternally smoldering with immortal importance and knowledge.

Anyways.

And so the Island moves in time-space-something, I don’t know I’m not a physicist, but Ben also jumps onto the Tunisia desert. And apparently, that jump gifts him with powers of kicking ass. I mean, I love Ben, but all of a sudden he’s in the desert and now he’s not a fucking dweeb anymore? Ben go karate-chop-chop! Who the hell knows, maybe they’re in the fucking Matrix. It was awesome.

Ben jumps the Island, plunges the story into more righteous absurdity, and explodes the expectations and conventions the show seemed to be working under. One of those pants-filling moments, of which this show is filled with many.

Ten days.