Superman: The Wrath of Zod?

Important Announcement:

Starting immediately, I'm calling for a moratorium on the Wrath of Khan analogy. You can blame Bryan Singer -- he ruined it for everyone.

At this summer's San Diego Comic Con, Singer used the analogy to indicate that the follow-up to Superman Returns would have more action. "I plan to get all Wrath of Khan on it," he announced, then later explained himself to TODAYonline:

"What I was referring to was the fact that, when you do a first film like X-Men, for example, you're introducing a world and a set of characters. Once those characters are introduced, once we've lived with them for awhile and we know them, when you get into a second film like an Empire Strikes Back or a Wrath of Khan, you can make an action-adventure film and you don't have to bank all that time getting to know the characters. Now you can raise the stakes, raise the jeopardy and make a leaner, meaner movie."

I call bullshit.

This is Superman that Singer is talking about, an icon who needs no introduction. Superman and his supporting cast have been around for almost 70 years now, and in that time they've been adapted from the comics into numerous movies and television series, both animated and live action -- not to mention other media, such as radio shows, novels, and newspaper strips. The television season immediately preceding Superman Returns' summer box office premiere included on its schedule both the WB's Smallville and Cartoon Network's Justice League Unlimited. I don't think the intervening weeks were enough to allow Superman to drop out of the public consciousness.

And it's not like Singer had a bold new vision of the Superman mythos that the audience would need time to adjust to. Superman Returns was basically a revival of the Christopher Reeve movie series with a new cast and state-of-the-art special effects. Honestly, I think the movie could have started off with an aerial slugfest over Metropolis between Superman and Bizarro, and the audience would have managed to keep up.

Describing the TODAY interview, Mark Beall over at Cinematical writes that Singer "simply pointed to traditional comic book movie wisdom, and said he meant the first movie had to be consumed with character introductions and relationships, the second movie -- like the old Wrath of Khan -- could jump right into the action." Beall went on to conclude, "He's right, of course, with the conventional wisdom he suggested..."

And that's what I'm talking about. I'm not really attacking Bryan Singer, who still has a lot of street cred with me for what he accomplished on the X-Men movies, but the conventional wisdom that his comments stem from. His usage of the now-common Wrath of Khan analogy was simply the spine-snapping straw responsible for the quadriplegic camel.

Because it's an analogy I hear constantly, every time a new comic book movie franchise kicks off and the fans feel the need to defend the lackluster results. They repeat this assertion that the point of the first movie is to get the characters' origins out of the way, and then the real fun can begin in the second one. My problem with this conventional wisdom is that it is essentially describing a television pilot, not a movie.

The first episode of a TV series is supposed to establish the characters and their world for the audience. A movie is supposed to be a complete package that can stand alone on its own merits.

After all, not every successful movie launches a franchise, which means that the characters, world, and action all have to be crammed into one story. It can be done. Blade Runner, Titanic, The Thing, Fight Club, Pulp Fiction, Saving Private Ryan, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, Braveheart... all one-offs.

And what about action heroes who do return in sequel after sequel? Should Indiana Jones, Martin Riggs, or John McClane have had slow, plodding introductory movies before their action-packed debuts in Raiders of the Lost Ark, Lethal Weapon, or Diehard? Should Dr. No have presented the audience with more biographical data on 007 before launching the James Bond franchise?

What I find truly ironic is that it's the comic book superheroes -- characters who have been around for decades and therefore have an actual chance of being familiar to the audience -- that people feel are in need of introductory "pilot" movies, as opposed to original characters who owe their existence entirely to the movies in which they appear.

That's even more true with Star Trek, the origin of this Wrath of Khan analogy. Star Trek: The Motion Picture wasn't slow and plodding because it was introducing the movie audience to the Star Trek Universe... Gene Roddenberry's vision of the 23rd century had been on television non-stop since the series debuted in the 60s. It wasn't created to set up the "leaner, meaner" Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. No, ST:TMP began it's life as a pilot for the Star Trek: Phase II television series, which was scrapped when it was decided that bringing Trek to the big screen was more important than getting new episodes on the small one.

And when The Motion Picture's box office debut was met with criticism from critics and fans alike, lessons were learned and applied to the sequel. The Wrath of Khan simply represents a different, and more successful, take on the Star Trek mythos. The two movies were not created as part of some grand design to introduce the characters and the world in the first one, and then launch straight into the action in the second.

Mistakes were made and lessons were learned. That's why the second movie in a series is sometimes superior to the initial one, not because of what the initial one supposedly needs to accomplish.

Granted, a movie like X-Men does have a complex world to set up; Marvel's mutant universe can be impenetrable to outsiders if not presented correctly. But X-Men isn't lacking for action because it had to introduce the mutants and the world that hates them. It's lack of action stems from the small budget Singer was given to work with, due to the studio's lack of faith in the comic book franchise. When X-Men proved itself, Singer was given more money for X2, which itself was so successful that the studio ponied up even more dough for X3, which if nothing else provided us with some epic fight scenes.

Similarly, if the Fantastic Four sequel proves to be better than the original, it will be because someone learned from the mistakes that were made. The sequel needs to embrace the source material, rather than try to minimize the fantasy elements in a misguided attempt at realism. (And if the inclusion of Silver Surfer and Galactus is any indication, they certainly seem to be on the right track). And the same goes for Marvel's Incredible Hulk do-over. On a certain level, comic book superheroes will always be ridiculous. If you want to win over the audience and get them to suspend their disbelief, you need to make a rollicking good movie, not one that is apologetic and embarrassed by its source material, or that tries to bury its absurd elements under an increasingly unstable pile of pseudoscientific justifications. (I'm looking at you, Ang Lee. Throwing in starfish and genetic tampering from birth and God knows what else doesn't make the Hulk's origin any less ridiculous than Bruce Banner getting caught in a gamma bomb blast. It just makes your overwrought movie that much more tedious).

In discussing his proposed sequel for Superman Returns, Singer also invokes The Empire Strikes Back, which I think makes my point for me. The Star Wars Universe, I would argue, is even more complicated than the X-Men's world (which at least is set on Earth), yet Lucas had no trouble establishing it in Star Wars: A New Hope without skimping on the action. The reason that Empire is considered to be superior is not because it ramps up the action; if that were so, then Return of the Jedi would have to be considered the pinnacle of the original trilogy. Empire succeeds on its artistic merits.

Despite my disappointment with Superman Returns, I do hope that Singer is given the opportunity to make a sequel. He's shown what he's capable of with the first 2 X-Men movies (and if you want to see what he brought to them, you need only look at what's missing from X3), and he remains one of my favorite directors. I can only assume that his trotting out of the "traditional comic book movie wisdom" was due to his understandable defensiveness regarding the less-than-stellar reviews he had to suffer through all summer. Because when Singer insists that Superman Returns is exactly what the first movie in a new franchise needs to be, I can't help but hear Pee-Wee Herman, having just fallen off his bike, saying "I meant to do that!"

Screenplay Collecting for Comics Geeks

Last week over at Alligators on a Helicopter, Scott the Reader posted a story about his days as an addict of sorts, buying screenplays from his "script pusher" in Manhattan. This led to a discussion in his Comments section about what scripts people own, how they acquired them, and why. Which got me to thinking about my own collection of scripts, many of which I acquired long before I had any intention of being a screenwriter.

I got started in the late 80s or early 90s, picking up overpriced, zillionth-generation xeroxes of screenplays at comic conventions. All of them were from genre movies -- science fiction, horror, comic book adaptations --and most were selected for their "special features," such as scenes that ended up on the cutting room floor or were never filmed at all. Other screenplays I picked up because they were for movies or sequels that never made it out of development hell.

For example, the 3rd draft of Sam Hamm's screenplay for Tim Burton's Batman still included Robin's origin. The screenplay for Terminator 2 had a definitive (and superior) ending, rather than the vague and open-ended (sequel-friendly) one that Cameron went with. And since Buckaroo Banzai was already one of my all-time favorite films, I had to see if there was any brilliant weirdness in the script that might not have made it onto the screen.

Then of course there was Sam Hamm's screenplay for the proposed Watchmen movie (written long before Alan Moore asked to have his name removed from the credits of all movies and graphic novels that he doesn't own the rights to), and the uncredited script for Lost Boys 2.

I also picked up a few treatments, such as George Lucas's "The Star Wars" from 1973, in which Luke Skywalker is a general in the 33rd century, and Fall of the Republic, John L. Flynn's version of Star Wars: Episode III from 1983. And shortly before the series premiere of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, I acquired the "Writers/Directors Guide" and a booklet on "Initial Concepts for Staff Writers." And speaking of Star Trek, somewhere along the way I ended up with screenplays for episodes from the original series: "The Naked Time" and "The Changeling." (If the person I got those from is reading this, and those were a loan rather than a gift, and you've been wondering where they've been for the last 10-20 years... well, now you know).

After I became interested in writing screenplays myself, I discovered that I still owned a paperback copy of The Fisher King: The Book of the Film, another relic from my heavy collecting days. I remember ordering it sight unseen, based solely on my love of the movie. Reading Richard LaGravanese's screenplay, I realized a few things: It is extremely good (one of the best I've ever read, actually, and strong enough to get Terry Gilliam to break his vows to never again direct someone else's script or work in Hollywood); I could, obviously, learn a lot from studying it; and finally, that I really prefer reading scripts that have been published in book form to xeroxed pages held together by brads. The text is more aesthetically pleasing and easier on the eyes.

I still go to the occasional comic con, but I don't bother with the tables of screenplays. For me, they're just one more casualty of the internet, where I know I can find the same scripts for free on websites like Drew's Script-O-Rama, The Weekly Script, Simply Scripts, IMSDb, TWIZ TV, and numerous others. But because reading scripts on a computer screen has its own set of drawbacks, I still prefer reading them in book form. And they look cool on my bookshelf. Other favorites besides The Fisher King include Bubba Ho-Tep (with Don Coscarelli's screenplay, Joe R. Lansdale's original short story, plus introductions by both of them); The Donnie Darko Book (which includes the screenplay by Richard Kelly, an intro by Jake Gyllenhaal, a Richard Kelly interview, lots of artwork, and pages from The Philosophy of Time Travel); and Men In Black: The Script and the Story Behind the Film (a big, glossy, full-color affair with lots of photos, Ed Solomon's script, and an official MIB Agents' Manual). The cost of these film books can add up quickly, though, so whenever I'm ready for another batch, I search for used copies on Half.com.

And since returning to comics retail, I've discovered that comic shops are also good sources of screenplays. My copy of Kevin Smith's Clerks II: The Screenplay came from Paper Heroes, for example. But more to the point:

IDW Publishing, the publisher of the Angel comic books, also publishes Angel "scriptbooks"... screenplays from popular episodes of Joss Whedon's TV series in comic book format, with illustrations by artist Jeff Johnson.

I've got Angel: Scriptbook #5, which is appropriately enough the issue that contains Jim Kouf's script for the episode "Five by Five." You know, the one where Faith, the rogue vampire slayer, shows up in Los Angeles and tortures Wesley. Good times, good times. (Nothing against Wes, mind you, it's just that Faith is one of my all-time favorite television characters).

Other issues include the scripts for the pilot ("City of"), "Spin the Bottle", "Waiting in the Wings", and "Sanctuary". And in November, IDW will be reprinting five of them in the Angel Scriptbook Collection: Volume 1, with a second volume to follow in March.

I'm not sure whether the intended target audience for books (or comic books) of screenplays is primarily fans or screenwriters, but either way, they're an extremely handy (and collectible) resource.

And a Child Shall Save Their Collective Asses

So I'm still suffering through season one of Star Trek: The Next Generation at work, and this afternoon "The Big Goodbye" was on. If memory serves, that's the first Dixon Hill/Holodeck Crisis episode of the series.

At one point I just had to stare at the screen in puzzlement when I realized that Geordi LaForge was standing idly by, watching over Wesley Crusher's shoulder as the "acting" ensign worked to fix the ever-malfunctioning Holodeck and save Picard, Data, and Dr. Crusher from existence cessation.

I love the fact that a Galaxy-Class Starship is the 24th century equivalent of a VCR... it takes a kid to figure out how the thing works. It's a good thing that Wes was on board for the Enterprise-D's maiden voyage. Otherwise, all of the ship's computer screens might have been flashing "12:00" for the duration of its mission, and that would have been especially embarrassing when aliens like the Q dropped by to rub their superior intellect in the humans' faces.

I think this also explains why Picard spent so much of his free time reading the classics. He was too proud to ask Wesley to program his TiVo for him.

Recycled Trek

Spike TV runs 3 hours of Star Trek: The Next Generation every weekday, providing background noise for my afternoon shifts at Paper Heroes. I have no idea how many times they've cycled through the entire series over the past few months, but I've learned to dread the arrival of the (excellent) series finale "All Good Things...", the harbinger that signals the imminent return of season one.

Case in point: Yesterday I was subjected to episode 4, "The Last Outpost," an inferior remake of the Classic Trek episode "Arena." Not only is this "update" of the first contact scenario a muddled mess of a story, especially in contrast to the starkly elemental nature of the original, but let's compare the 2 episodes' legacies. Because simply evaluating their individual contributions to the Trek mythos demonstrates that they are on opposite ends of the quality spectrum:

"Arena" introduced the Gorn, the most awesome alien in the Star Trek universe, while "The Last Outpost" was our introduction to the Ferengi, by far the most irritating.

Worse yet, while the Gorn made their point in one episode and then were never seen again (not counting their appearance on the non-canonical Star Trek: The Animated Series, or that CGI monstrosity on Star Trek: Enterprise), the Ferengi would never stay away, instead returning for countless appearances throughout Next Generation's run, each more grating than the one before, and collectively having a negative impact on the quality (and my enjoyment) of the series as a whole.

Coincidentally, I fulfilled a childhood dream on Saturday when I stumbled upon an action figure clearance sale at Suncoast, and purchased the Gorn figure by Art Asylum... for a dollar. Sure, when I was a kid in the '70s I had the Mego Star Trek dolls, but was never able to locate the elusive Gorn (which apparently was a Frankensteinian creation combining the head of Marvel Comics' The Lizard, a Planet of the Apes body, and a Klingon costume). Of course this was back in the Dark Ages when you actually had to go store-to-store and search the shelves. You kids today with your eBay -- where's the challenge? The frustration? The heartbreak?

Anyway, check out this kickass Gorn action figure. Is there any doubt it could beat the snot out of an entire starship full of Ferengi action figures, using nothing but its bare hands, a medium-sized boulder, or a makeshift dagger? And all he'd be wearing is that flimsy tunic, because the Gorn is like the Star Trek Universe version of the Sub-Mariner, who you always just knew was a badass because he'd routinely fight giant monsters, robots, and aliens wearing nothing but swim trunks.

Final note: Your "Arena" or Mine is an interesting blog post by John Kenneth Muir about the history of Frederic Brown's short story "Arena," first published in Astounding Science Fiction Magazine in 1944, and since adapted into episodes of, not only Star Trek and The Next Generation, but also The Outer Limits, Space: 1999, Blake's 7, and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. It's a classic story (I wish I could remember where I read it so that I could find it again), and it's interesting to see how the basic concept evolved over time.

Lost at 20,000 Feet

I had to laugh when I read this story on SCI FI Wire this morning about William Shatner in a meeting with LOST creator J.J. Abrams:

Shatner Met Trek's Abrams

Original Star Trek star William Shatner told convention-goers in Chicago over the weekend that he has spoken with J.J. Abrams, who is co-writing and will direct a proposed 11th Trek movie, and added that "on the horizon there are good things for Star Trek and, hopefully, my involvement" in the film, the Trekmovie.com Web site reported.

Shatner mentioned that he had spoken with Abrams on Sept. 7 and that he and Abrams will be meeting sometime this week.

It reminded me of a thought I had last season, that with all the flashbacks on LOST showing the plane coming apart mid-air, I would love to see Shatner make a cameo appearance and reprise his role from the Twilight Zone episode "Nightmare at 20,000 Feet."

I can picture Shatner in Boston Legal mode, staring fixated out the window and yelling, "I'm Denny Crane! There's a gremlin on the plane!" while Hurley tries to settle him down with a "Dude!"

Of course what they were actually discussing was Star Trek, which reminds me that it's almost time for the remastered original series to start its syndication run. Here's some updated Classic Kirk for you:

Unrealized Star Trek Merchandising Potential

Today's the 40th anniversary of the Star Trek franchise, and you know what I want? A Captain Christopher Pike action figure. No, not the healthy one. I want the version that was horribly disfigured by delta radiation and confined to the chair with the flashing lights.

The chair should be radio-controlled, so that I can make it roll around the room. And as an added bonus, the remote control should have an extra button on it marked "Ask Question" that causes the chair lights to randomly flash and beep either once or twice when you press it, so that you can use Captain Pike like a Magic 8-Ball that only answers "yes" or "no." Because, obviously, "Reply hazy... ask again later" would require way too many flashes and beeps.

Seriously, this has to be the only character from the original series that's never been immortalized as an action figure, and you know every Trekkie on the planet would have to own one. Nevertheless, I'm sure if I were to calculate the odds of Art Asylum actually producing such a toy, the answer would be "Outlook not so good."