Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Darkman; A Hardcore Review

SO Sam Raimi took his first STAB at superherodom in Darkman. A story about a scientist who happens to be working on artificial skin for burn victims who gets blown up really nicely in a huge real estate racketeering scheme headed by the guy who played the retarded guy on LA Law. Not a bad setup for a movie, unless you were planning on casting a future Oscar winner in a leading roll in Frances McDomand who won Best Actress for Fargo, and future Golden Globe and Oscar nominee for best actor in Liam Neeson in the title roll of Dr. Peyton Westlake. And yes I know the film is not called, Dr. Peyton Westlake, but her calls himself Darkman at the very end of the film when he dons the visage of perennial B Movie Scream King, and the man known as the "Human Chin" in Bruce Campbell.
Sam Raimi's retarded younger brother, who is only famous cause Sam refuses to do a movie unless Ted Raimi can somehow be involved, is also in it. And yes, he played Joxer in Xena, which makes me want to commit Hari Kari for even knowing that shit, much less so because I actually used to watch it. He gets killed by old Peyton first, in what has to be the award winner for best kill scene of the flick.
Take into account that pre Spider-Man, Sam Raimi worked on a plethora of motion pictures which had the budget of what I get paid annually. Then couple that with the fact that I watched this on HD DVD, and fuck you I have a Super Blu so I can watch both HD DVDs and Blurays. This has to be one of the worst movies ever put in HD. And that is purely based on the severely retarded amount of compositing that is done. And shitily at that. Things just don't seem to work out real well for our blown up and severely burned anti-hero. His love life is nonexistent due to the fact that his girlfriend, McDormand, thinks he is dead. And add to that the stress of being revenge driven and bat shit crazy as a Polyester shirt on a hot hot Summer day.
Poor Peyton can't catch a fucking break. Not when he somehow takes his girlfriend to the local carnival and runs afoul of a carnie who's fingers he destroys after knocking over milk bottles at his booth. And by somehow, I mean, this guys synthetic skin only lasts for 99 minutes in the light. SO how the fuck do you take someone out the carnival in only an hour and thirty-nine minutes? I don't know how you do that, or have a long meaningful conversation over coffee or lunch in only an hour and thirty-nine minutes. But hey, it's a movie, and one more it's a Sam Raimi movie. While MST3King our way through the flick it was thought that this was Raimi's first bigger budget movie. I think I agree with that assessment, but it still held his trademark cheesey directorial attributes. The head through cabinet glass, the moments of constant hilarity, and the uber bad compositing jobs. All in all, Sam Raimi's Darkman holds a special place in my movie viewing experience.
The hardcore wrestling moment I equate this cinematic classic with is somewhat unorthadox in scope. Not in a Rob Van Dam high flying and kick fest, but more like a car accident that you like to watch over and over again. Check out ECW One Night Stand 2006, right before the main event when RVD battles John Cena for the WWE title. The music hits and out comes Eugene? WTF? This guy isn't hardcore. I mean the concept Vince had for this character was downright offensive to me, as someone who works with adults with DD. But they ended the reign of Eugene by bringing out the Sandman who caned the shit out of Eugene, even chasing him back to the dressing room, while beating him with his Kendo Stick.

Fuzzyface production notes pt. 17

SO it has come to my Zig pens drying up every last bit of pigment in them in order to put out this book. Knowing they went down for such an amazing graphic novel says something. They appreciate their lives being snuffed for the good of good wholesome family entertainment that no family should ever view as a family.
So I had to venture out to the art supply shop, not Michael's, as they do not have any Zig pens right now. I went to Posner's across the street from the Fine Arts Department at the UofA. They didn't carry Zig pens, but they did have an array of inking supplies that I can variably put to good use. I also found some pretty sweet "sketch cards." They come in 20 packs and are made from Bristol board so you can do small custom pieces for people. I guess I gotta get used to working on fairly small pieces of paper now too. I plan on doing small commissions of pen and ink for like $5 at conventions and then charging like $10 for larger pieces in pencil and charging extra for ink and some color.
Fuzzyface rolls along with these new found supplies. And two more pages were done last night with said supplies. I finally noticed that Fuzzyface while not a classic monster movie in the conventional sense, does share some very important characteristics. For instance, Fuzzyface does not appear until just before halfway through the book. And that is in classic albeit modern horror movie mythos in that a tribute kill happens. And of course it is tribute to the genius that is Tobe Hooper and Texas Chain Saw Massacre.
I am psyching myself up for the possibility of attempting to take Fuzzyface national and beyond. After the first or second self published print run of Fuzzyface, I am planning to submit the graphic novel to some national comic book publishing companies with the clause that it carry the Anti-Hero Brand imprint logo. Image, Dark Horse, Oni, Slave Labor Graphics and others are potential parties, as is Dynamite which is doing some amazing work with licensed properties like Army of Darkness, Jason and Freddy, not to mention Red Sonja, and Garth Ennis' The Boys. So when the book releases and does some great business, as I know it will, this will be a catalyst to being able to get the book pimped and sold around the country. So be sure to show up to Phoenix Cactus ComiCon 2010 to get your first printing original self published print run of Fuzzyface. That way you can tell all your friends you were there when it all went down. That and you can get me to sign it, and if you ask nicely I'll even draw something in it for you. Plus, a few of the contributing pinup artists will be at Phoenix Con too. You can them to scrawl on your copy of Fuzzyface as well.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010


Unfortunately the time has come to come together and have to help save a staple of the Tucson comic book community. Charlies Comics is having super tough time in this troubled economy. Due to the new times making it harder to get credit and loans, Charlies Comics is in danger of shutting its doors... FOREVER!
Charlie Harris has been a big time supporter of small press, independent comics and free speech for years now. He hosts semi annual events to totally (read 100% of profits) benefit local charities. Charlies was the only place in town that could have and would have supported a Tucson version of Wonder Woman Day to benefit a local domestic abuse shelter and outreach center.
Charlie works tirelessly to raise a family and keep his shop in the best condition and with the most knowledge and resources available. He has worked for years in the community and for older shoppers of Fantasy Comics, you might remember him. He has his own shop now on the corner of Craycroft and 22nd Street in the Brookline College shopping plaza.
Charlie has been there in tough times for all of us small press creators, as well as being there for the average person in the community.
It is time we give something back. That is why I am asking you, the public to bombard Charlies not only with support and well wishes, but with your hard earned monies that you spend on entertainment.
As a community we need to say enough to simply letting small businesses descend into our memories. Small businesses are vital to our local economy. To price regulation and to bringing our economy back to where it was years back.


Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Part 17... "What the FUCK?"

So the inking continues at a near break wrist pace. 20 down.... 34 left standing. Things continue to improve, I think as I grow ever closer to the final destination of the finished graphic novel. Once I complete this then I will worry about "filming" all the bonus scenes and stuff. I am honestly enjoying this inking process a little bit more than I have in the past. Although, it's just tedious and nerve wracking as I basically attempt to not fuck up all the work I have done, so I get uber tense when I ink. My wrist tightens and my elbow hurts from trying to hold my arm steady. It's been my elbow and my finger that have been bugging me more than my wrist this time around. So either I am doing something right or something very very wrong.
Venus is set to write herself a bio for the book, as am I. But I think I know what I need to say. Although it could all change in the blink of an eye. Basically I am planning on writing a semi serious but completely ridiculous bio for myself. Heralding my galactic conquests of lesser savage beings and my introducing them to Grrry who would level the playing fields and tear their worlds asunder. Agnew who is the bringer of life and death. And Kyle, the goddess of being the girl upstairs. Not to mention, Nash who would just assume kick you in the nuts as shake your hand. And holder of the Galactic Heavyweight Hardcore Wrestling Championship.
Basically these remaining production notes are for the express purpose of documenting my descent into madness from the inking process. Any useful information or entertainment value attained from these last few posts is purely coincidental.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

25 to life for Lisa's murderer

My friend, former girlfriend and one of my first loves was murdered by her boyfriend Paul Beam back in August 2008. She was strangled to death. Thing is, she didn't die right away. The mother fucker called his dad after he did it to try and bail him out. Had he called the ambulance right then she might have lived. She may have survived. Some chance is better than none. And he killed her. Like it was nothing. Because she had enough of his abuse and was going to leave him. With her two children in the next room, he strangled her to death. Bags packed, car parked out front of their apartment, he lost it. He couldn't have been a real man and let her leave. He couldn't have been a real man and gotten help. He chose to take a life. Her life. Not his own.
I think about this every day since the day I found out. I go back to the last time I saw her. When I said I would always be there to protect her. I promised her I would be there. I swore. She's gone. And all I have are memories and a broken promise. She deserved better. She always ran with a tough crowd. And I fucking saw it coming after things ended between us. For six years after I last saw her, I knew this would happen. But I didn't do anything. I didn't reach out. I didn't help. I didn't stop it. That's what heroes are supposed to do. They're supposed to help those who cannot help themselves. They're supposed to fight for what is right. By any means necessary. And now this fucking murderer is gonna get out in less than 25 years. They say 25 to life. But they don't mean it. They let murderers, rapists and child abusers out early and they let petty criminals who used or sold drugs sit in a cell and rot. They're going to let Paul Beam walk in 25 years or less. They'll let him out of jail and he'll be free. Forgiven by the people for what he did. Forgiven because in 25 years, the people will have forgotten about Lisa. They won't remember Jeremy, her son or her daughter Kaitlyn. In twenty-five years, he'll be an old man, pushing 63. In twenty-five years I'll only be 56. I'll be in good shape. And I'll be waiting.
I know Lisa wouldn't want him dead. I can feel it in my gut. But there's something inside me that just broke. Something, at some point that didn't believe in killing a killer. That the death penalty didn't prove anything. But that feeling is gone right now. I don't want rationale thinking. I don't want justice from the court's perspective. I don't want that injustice. I want true justice. I want him to suffer. I want him to cry for his worthless life. I want him to beg and plead. I want his life in my hands. And my fingers wrapped around his throat. I want you to know the pain she knew. I want to instill in you the fear she knew. You better hope the state decides better. You better hope they never let you out. Cause if this hatred grows inside me for twenty-five years, you're never going to want to meet me. You don't deserve life. You don't deserve to draw breath. You don't deserve anything good to happen to you. You deserve the worst we can fathom. You have earned my contempt. And you have garnered my hatred.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Fuzzyface Production Notes Part 16.... "inks"

My left elbow has this dull, annoying pain in it. My fingers are cramping, but my wrist actually doesn't hurt so long as I'm not holding a pen. I jokingly bitched about having to ink this project by myself. When in all actuality, I wouldn't have this any other way. Even though the story was written by someone else, Fuzzyface is very much my baby. My second baby, as Youth in Asia will always be my first.
The choice to ink the book came from no small amount of peer pressure, but also, cause I know the story will look more professional as well as add to the subcontext of the story. But other than that the only thing I really have to report is that I began inking yesterday, and I now, after a bit over 24 hours, have 5 pages inked. So, be on the lookout for Fuzzyface. The book is going to rock. And I really feel this is what's going to force people to take notice.