Siren Maiden 2013

I don't care for barleywines on the whole. Too cloyingly sweet while at the same time too heavy on the palate and in the stomach. However, it remains a generally popular style with segments of the population and its hard not to see why: boozy and fruity is always a popular combination and, in a pinch, a glass of barleywine can easily replace a rich slice of cake for dessert. That said, it's not so grossly overrated as its dimwitted and nostalgia-fueled cousin, mead, which we will not speak of again.

Last year's offering celebrating the first anniversary of Berkshire's Siren Craft Brewery pours ruddy red and a tad watery.

The somewhat high ABV (11%) hits the nose immediately but does so fairly pleasantly--a rusty, well-worn booze smell that doesn't trend toward cloying the way other barleywines do.

Malty and very dry, the Maiden lands somewhat heavy on the tongue but not overly heavy, once again playing against type by not becoming a meal beer after a single glass. This light heaviness, unfortunately, is also just enough to hide the alcohol which, in this style, seems unnecessary.

The body sits less heavy in the stomach, allowing room for more, perhaps, if one feels the immediate need. I did not; maybe as winter advances it will call to me again (or perhaps I could obtain this year's model).

A lighter imitation of the style serves Maiden well, though will likely prove wanting for barleywine enthusiasts. Nevertheless, the style once again proves versatile, both for flavor and body, and while Maiden be as thin as barleywines go, there's not too much to be upset about here. Also not too much to recommend it, sadly.

Grade: B-

Revisiting The Dark Knight Rises

Two years ago, I watched and reviewed The Dark Knight Rises. Now, removed from the hype and most of the emotion, I look at it again.

Even if the rest of this movie sucked, it earns points for Tommy Carcetti/Littlefinger being the CIA agent at the beginning of the movie. The fact the neither of them could charm/connive their way past Bane is enough to make him worthy as a villain.

People, for whatever reason, don't like Anne Hathaway and I truly don't get that. Because she trades on affectations and haughtiness, I guess? Have these people never met actors before? Is Hathaway supposed to hide her true self? Not everyone can be Jennifer Lawrence. And, frankly, Lawrence is far too relatable and endearing for me not to be suspicious. Anyway, the only thing wrong with Hathaway's Catwoman is the heels, and that wasn't really her call. People who aren't won over by the information-trading scene in the bar were never going to cotton to this character.

John Blake knows who Batman is from the beginning (he even has a suspicion that Bats was involved in the death of Harvey Dent). In a movie where every other character gets nine minutes of exposition, we're just supposed to accept that Blake recognizes another orphan and correctly pegs him as Batman. You know what would've been amazing? An honest, effective cop like John Blake hunting down the Batman. The Dark Knight sets that story up and it's completely abandoned here. Yeah, he's been retired for eight years, but what if Blake is on the heels of Bruce Wayne, heightening the drama of his decision to put the cowl back on? You can keep Bane and most everything else, but what if Batman actually had to face the music? It's hard not to feel like the first two movies pointed that way, before the third opted for a standard super-villain plot.

Thomas Lennon plays the doctor who examines Bruce. He was also the doctor in Memento. I don't know about the rest of you, but I like to imagine that he's the same character and that all of Christopher Nolan's movies take place in the same universe. Lennon does, anyway, and that's good enough for me.

Did this need to be another city-wide hostage movie? I get that you need a big threat for the final act, but note that the strongest movie of the trilogy is the one that doesn't threaten to blow up Gotham. And I also get the desire to bring this back around to the beginning with the League of Shadows, which wants Gotham reduced to rubble. But somewhere in here, there's a smaller, more intimate story to be told about the breakdown of the victorious--if compromised--Batman, against whom a shattered, weakened organization seeks to enact its swan song revenge. If you're thinking that's too bleak and too small scale for a summer blockbuster, I'd counter that it's also too bleak and too small scale for an Oscar bait stab-all-hope-to-death movie. It's not that I don't love the gritty reboot of the "some days you just can't get rid of a bomb" sequence (because I do), but Batman almost works best on the margins, without hype and without earth-shattering spectacle. In the dark, if you will.

Revisiting Bane's voice: the real problem is the inconsistency. In scenes like the plane heist or the speech out front of Blackgate, he's fine. But during the hit at the stock exchange, for example, it's like Sean Connery hepped up on painkillers. And it's especially a shame because Tom Hardy comes off genuinely imposing throughout his performance.

As long as we're talking about incoherence: Gordon's speech about institutions becoming shackles is almost entirely incomprehensible to me. Which is too bad because it sounds nice. But he whispers most of it over Hans Zimmer's characteristically bombastic soundtrack before transitioning into a yell at the end of it. It's an odd transition. And it seems so unlike Gary Oldman to make weird choices with his words.

Lastly, Bruce should've died. I mean, obviously, he can't hide anywhere in the world and his means for escaping are pretty meagerly defined. But even apart from that, there's an indulgent aspect of his surviving the blast. It worked for me at the time, but two years later, it just feels like the filmmakers are trying to have their cake and eat it, too. Once again, there seem to be few real consequences to Bruce's decision to be Batman, a thematic decision that might work for some superhero stories, but this series has gone out of its way to underline that vigilantism casts some very dark shadows.

This dichotomy extends to Blake's inheritance of the cowl. While Robin's Blake's fate relies on the imagination of the viewer, a trilogy that took pains to outline the downsides of vigilantism can hardly expect to be able to promote any excitement around a potential new Batman. I wonder if Nolan & Co. were aiming for fan indulgence, rather than trying to make a lasting statement. At the end of a popularly received trilogy, it's hard not to take the bait of rewarding one's fans, but when you've made your bones on gritty realism plausibility, this ending is just too easy. I don't know what the answer is. Kill Batman outright? We could completely upend most of the story as I slip into fan fiction mode, but neither you or I want to go through that (short version: Bruce doesn't rehabilitate after his fight with Bane, but is found by Blake, who helps him strategize from the cave to help the cops fight the League of Shadows; maybe Batman shows up in an exoskeleton suit, ala Kingdom Come). As a broad arc, it fits the character nicely--take everything away from him, give him the worst possible situation, and he still Batmans his way out of it--but it almost belongs to another, less self-serious take on the character.

Previous grade: A
New grade: B

I still like it. And though it's the weakest of the three, I can watch the full trilogy without feeling like it goes out on a sour note (Rises was never going to top its predecessor). But without needing to love it like I did in 2012, an ending that seemed like it had struck a perfect balance before plays a little muddled to me now. A few flat notes among some strong, undeniably Batmany work hurt the film but don't drag it down entirely. Overall, it's a strong enough series that I don't need another Batman film ever again.

Not that I would refuse one...

The Simpsons' Warm Glowing Warming Glow

Or, Dental Plan; Simpsons Fans Need Their Fix.

Some credit is due to whoever was honest enough to tell us that 24-hour Simpsons access will inevitably be bad for our (until now) functioning civilization, leaving us all little choice but to crack each others' heads open and feast on the goo inside. I'd like to say that mainlining Simpsons episodes and being relatively productive in life are not mutually exclusive aims. But, then, I have over twenty years of experience. You might say that I am horrifyingly qualified to thrive in a world in which a Simpsons episode is playing somewhere in the background at all times. But it may be a rough transition for many others.

Simpsons World would come as happier news if over half of the show's now 552 episodes weren't coming from the bleak, post-Golden Age era. But that's a criticism you probably saw coming. Let's try again: those of us who grew up with the show, have seen every episode at least four times, and have the DVD box sets are the ones who'll be most grateful for such a thing. We're also the last people who need it. We can already run entire episodes in our heads and conjure memories of any scene for any reason no reason at all.

Somewhere, there are people sorely in need of this service (I still get sad when someone tells me they weren't allowed to watch The Simpsons as a kid--how do you even have conversations?). But they've had ample time to seek out the show and it seems unlikely to me that Simpsons World will finally make them do it. Maybe if it were bought up by Netflix or Amazon Prime, but even then...

Now, I need to be careful about how I use the first person plural here because I'm not sure to how many people this applies. The Internet makes our numbers appear larger than they are. But conversely, polite company makes us seem fewer than we are. However, there are at least several of us out there. Those of us who were raised by the show; who can quote whole episodes backward and forward; and can peg any freeze frame to a specific episode, naming the proper title of the episode and the season will be the ones embiggening ourselves through this cromulent new service (at one time, I could rattle off a few episode production codes; that's not bragging, it's just a sad, sad fact).

Essentially, Simpsons World acts as a specialized content provider, giving users every episode, along with clips, playlists, etc. Viewers can even construct their own playlists and have episodes and clips suggested for them. Meanwhile, FXX (the availability of which will, like Simpsons World, be dependent on one's cable provider having a deal with the original FX), will have broadcast rights for all episodes, and will likely air lengthier marathons in sync with new episodes being broadcast over on Fox--if an upcoming episode revolves around Krusty, for example, FXX will air a bunch of old Krusty episodes, reminding viewers of a time when they loved Krusty. In celebration of this arrangement, FXX will be running a twelve-day marathon of all 552 episodes.

So, for the cost of also having FXX grafted onto our cable packages (we still need the bundles in order to watch things, apparently), it almost seems more trouble than it's worth. Especially if, as stated, we're prepared to cling to our box sets until physical media dies. However, the playlists might make this thing worth it on their own. Many of us already have themed marathons in our heads; Simpsons World will just make them easier to construct for ourselves and others to watch. That said, I'm not sure what Simpsons fan needs recommendations.

The twelve-day marathon is intriguing, but is really nothing more than an extended version of what Simpsons fans have been doing themselves since the olden days. In those days, "binging" was called "marathoning" and nickels had pictures of bumblebees on 'em. In college, I myself once marathoned season three all the way through solely because I was bored and had no girlfriend; that may have been kind of a chicken-and-the-egg situation. And, anyway, would it be worth sticking around much beyond day three or four, if the episodes are run chronologically? Yes, there's the easy knock again. Sorry, it's a reflex.

But that reflex may prove a point: we can't let it go. The show has entwined itself with our DNA, changing us, like when you stand next to a microwave for too long (I don't know how microwaves work). The show is a part of the way we think and a part of the way we engage with the world. And for the same reason that we can't reflect on either old or new episodes without reflexively adding "too bad the new episodes suck" we cannot turn down Simpsons swag, in whatever form it presents itself. Like moths to flame. Or Lisa to the Corey hotline. So we don't need Simpsons World. But damned if we won't use it.

It's a canny move for a fledgling network (which itself seems wholly unnecessary, but I suppose FX needs more time to show movies with director's commentary). They know we can't won't turn away. Why, once we no longer have to get up to change the discs, it won't be long before we're washing ourselves with rags on sticks.

Snowpiercer

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD

Snowpiercer is the closest thing the world will ever see to a Bioshock movie. And in all likelihood, it works even better than a straight adaptation ever would. Director Joon-ho Bong presents forth a fairly straightforward journey from the tail of a train to the head of it that's never less than visually fascinating. Meanwhile, the simplicity of that forward momentum provides plenty of room for a story that is at turns gruesome, darkly funny, infuriating, and heart-wrenching.

Seventeen years after the world's botched attempt to reverse climate change, the last of our species is stuck aboard a perpetual momentum train, traveling across a dead and frozen Earth. A long, steel box houses a few drops of human decency struggling against the most corrupted, degraded tendencies of our species. The difference between the two factions doesn't even have the courtesy to be distinguishable by class, which, while clearly demarcated, does not necessarily confer morality or decency on one side or the other (the citizens of the tail come off slightly better, if only because they have the misfortune to be aware of their miserable lives while the well-off citizens of the head thrive in ignorance of those consigned to the rear cars). These would be somewhat less bleak equations, if the occupants of the train didn't also happen to be the last of humankind.

Chris Evans' Curtis leads a team of rebels to take the engine of the train. Car by car, they fight for the dignity of their comrades in the tail and the children that are, now and again, taken to help run the engine. They bloodily force their way out of the slums of the tail, through the kitchen (where they learn what their food is made from), and into the opulent digs of the upper class, which includes a terrifying indoctrination center for the children of the head, where Curtis guns down a delightfully repugnant Tilda Swinton.

I'm not sure when exactly I started thinking that Joon-ho Bong was perfect for a theoretical Bioshock adaptation, but by the time Curtis and his surviving rebels are making their way through the upper class cars at the front of the train--decadent, beautifully-appointed, totally at odds with the way people in an enclosed and delicate ecosystem should be able to live--I realized this was that adaptation. And it's not too long before Ed Harris' Andrew Ryan Wilford shows up, completing the parallel. Snowpiercer, happily, chooses to end not long after killing its mad god-king.

Instead, it turns out that Curtis' revolution is just the most recent in a long line of orchestrated uprisings to maintain the delicate balance of population and resources. Curtis, at least for a time, was being led by the very forces he was trying to undermine (would you kindly...). Realizing that there is no future for the people in the tail, or any hope for any interruption to the rotten status quo, Curtis opts for the last best hope. And instead of a scavenger hunt and a disappointing boss battle, we get an uplifting sequence in which the train crashes and a couple of surviving children stumble out into the cold, spying a polar bear in the distance (which I think symbolizes good eatin').

There's a balancing act to a story that relies on humankind being its worst. In particular, it's difficult to stick the landing in a satisfying way. It can be all too easy to close out on a hopelessly bleak note or go for the contrived and improbable hopeful ending. Bioshock gave players a choice between the two. Snowpiercer wisely opts for the least crushing finale possible. Yona and Tim (seventeen and five, respectively, with little-to-know working knowledge of the planet they've never set foot on) are not set up very well. And it's only a few lines of dialogue spoken twenty minutes before the end that gives the audience any hope for the Earth itself having any hope for survival. But they've survived the train--no great environment for a kid--and, if Curtis' uprising represents anything, it's that a chance of a hope is better than giving in. At least there's some humanity in that.

Grade: A

In Which I Look Awkward on Camera

As part of my partnership with aois21, here is the first of several promotional videos for Nos Populus and The Half-Drunken Scribe. For regular readers, there's not a lot here that's new, but you get to see my t-shirt with its stretched-out collar and hear my Tracey Ullman-era Homer Simpson voice* talking about my writing. And blinking... so much blinking.

My apologies to aois21 for not having prepared for this any better. I could've at least worn a decent shirt. I can't take myself anywhere. If I had prepared more, I would've had more to say, but I'm not all that eloquent when on the spot. I tend to just let syllables fall out of my mouth and hope for the best.

I'll probably definitely think of some more footnotes later but just to start: I was glib in talking about the difficulty of making politics seem more absurd than they are. I'd shudder if I heard that kind of oversimplification coming out of someone else. So if I can be given a chance to explain (which, hey, I have been): Congress is terrible. We all agree? Good, moving on. No, I don't choose difficult targets. But my fear while writing Nos Populus was that transcribing real speeches and documenting real events (which might've been possible in this context) wouldn't have translated and probably would've come off boring, instead of clownish and nauseating. So I decided to amplify the inanity that already was/is, subsequently creating more work for myself.

Second, in an upcoming video, I mention Sinclair Lewis as an influence. For completeness' sake, this is the book that first sparked the idea that would become Nos Populus, an influence I've mentioned before. Sad to say, that book is not one of Lewis' best (there's a reason it was out of print for so many years). Instead, I'd suggest starting with Main Street, a book that got Lewis into some trouble, forcing him to create the fictional city of Zenith, Winnemac, so he could have a setting for his yarns that didn't offend the thin-skinned reading public of the 1920s (we're bigger than that now). 

That's it for now. More videos to come.

*The voice was initially based on Walter Matthau, but it always sounded to me like Matthau talking into a dimwit filter. Which, in a way...