The Goth Club

What time is it? IT’S SATURDAY!

That’s the crazy kinda shit that goes down with OzTAKU. If it confuses Westeners, it’s our bag! And we had a meet up on that Saturday.

Why do I bother mentioning a manga drawing community on a blog supposedly about gawths? Well, the answer should be that obvious, but in case it isn’t, you may have noticed a disturbingly large number of gawths still read comic books, particularly the slightly more “mature” kind, but either way, there are plenty of manga for goths. And if that weren’t enough to convince you, most of the community is full of goths anyway…

Lithe, pouting, full lipped pretty boys consistently mistaken for young women. Metal Heads consistently mistaken for insurance clerks. Supple young women consistently mistaken for Brian Malko. Minors consistently drawing pornography to vent sexual frustrations forced on them by overly restricitve ethnic parents, and others that inform you your facial hair feels somewhat like their nethers. Truly, it is a communicative paradise of comedy, comraderie and consistent face palming.

We aim for consistency you see.We also aim to be sell out whores, but somehow it fails, and we’re still poor. Damn you, starving artist stereotype!

Clearly though, this was getting me nothing but hunger. Hunger for comedy, lest I blow my brains out. So off I went, seeking such from other cartoonists.

Looking for comedy itself, I was sorely disappointed. There was nothing funny about Comic Book Funnies this week, much to my disappointment. What was I not disappointed by then? Why, The Sexy Men of Australian Australian Comics 2009-2010 Financial Year Calendar. Featuring sexy sexy men such as Patrick Alexander. And not only did I get to lust after such pinup material, I got to meet them too!.. Whcih is actually something I could do the first Saturday of every month at the Prince of Wales hotel if I wasn’t busy with other crap

But with that disappointment, I had no choice but to go home and weep… Or y’know, shower and change and get ready to go out to Black Widows.

I’ve got to say, it was a remarkably good night. The music was pumping up until about 2:00am when it became more glitchpop than industrial / danceable metal.

Leave Zak Alone!

That, however, did not prevent me from being an angsty fuck, because I had not taken a fair does of Fukitol as I should have. The secret to happiness, after all, is self medication. This was qickly fixed with three shots of overpriced Sierra Tequila which I managed to get at a discount. I now recall why I stopped drinking cheap tequila. It didn’t help that people kept coming up and asking if it was Zak. For fuck’s sake, it was not fucking Zak! Leave Zak alone! Those that attempted to cheer me up, appreciated… but don’t do it next time.

Rant aside, perhaps the best part of the night was remaking aquaintance with someone who insists she’s a “sex ninja”. It’s certainly more original than “vampire”, and more interesting than “pagan / witch”. I’m leaving money on the dresser in the hopes that she comes some night. Although more entertaining was introducing her to Jaz. It’s always an awkward moment when introducing your partner to someone you met without her, regardless of your intentions. You’re unsure if they will get along, or throw down, and an inflattible children’s pool filled with jelly will mysteriously appear (well, it’s King Street).

Speaking of unspeakable sexiness, I did manage to catch up with my doppleganger and arrange to record his bizarre sex life for the purpose of documenting it as a comic. Said arranged time? Why, the very next day! And you’ll be privvy to the opening of that inanity tomorrow… Eventually, this recording will form the basis for an entire movement in and of itself: Wadeing in the Gene Pool.

To Be Continued… again…

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At first, I didn’t think I’d write a review of this film.

I thought to myself: What self respecting goth wants to see a movie about a maladjusted social misfit entirely decked out in tight black leather with knives for hands?

Then I thought: Oh yeah…

In all honesty, this is actually a pretty good piece of entertainment. I say entertainment, and not cinema or film, because if you even had passing interest in higb-brow theatrics that makes a grand political statement you will be saddend. The closest it gets to political commentary is a nod to the stupidity of Bush’s pre-emptive doctrine.

If you are a fan of the original comics, you’re likely going to rage over this almost as badly as if they’d given Hugh Jackman a massive blue swinging cock and twirled it in your face for three hours. And getting massively dicked is exactly what happens to other favourite Marvel characters, such as Deadpool… Or the way that Wolverine is seemingly picked up by the Kent family about half way through. It could only have been made more apparent if they’d said their now missing son was a journalist. That said, if you’re like 95% of the movie going public and you’re not a rabid fan of the comics, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s not like the original material was totally raped. The kind of rape that one normally reserves for montage sequences of US soldiers in Vietnam going berserk… Ahhh, there it is, in the opening credits! Fantastic. Let us proceed!

Quips like this are sorely lacking

Ryan Reynolds is cast as Deadpool. He actually does a pretty good job of being the massive smart arse Deadpool is mean to be. This really could have been developed for something that was a bit more conducive to advancing the story. Unfortunately, the character was relegated to about as much of a role as Nemesis got in Resident Evil Apocalypse. I like Reynolds (both of them actually… mmm, moustache!) and I like Deadpool, but I just couldn’t really get into the feeling of Deadpool with Ryan playing it. He’s really more of a psychotic, sword wielding Van Wilder, Murderous Rampage in an African Village Liason…

Hmmm…. Mental note: Pitch sequel idea.

Hugh Jackman does manage to bring back the Wolverine we know and love. It’s an odd sword of position for the character of Wolverine though. A lot of the tragedy of his character from the previous X-Men movies is gone from the character because a lot of it hasn’t technically happened yet. There’s already a character expectation built up, so it’s a little confusing watching a film with that character that then basically has none of the history. Like watching Escape from LA, and wondering what the deal with all the height jokes is.

Other characters that had previously been missing from the original trilogy, such as Gambit, finally make their mark. I’m aware that X-Men has been through roughly a dozen iterations, and Wolverine’s own story basically changes as often as a variant cover. But I’m gonna nerd rage, dammit! Considering how much fun Gambit was to some of the comic material, particularly in the sexual innuendo stakes, it’s saddening that he gets a total of less than five minutes screen time, and is about as two dimensional as the very paper most of his comics were printed on.

We also get the origins of Sabretooth in this installment. Gone is the wild eyed, fluffy Sabretooth that is so reminiscent of an extra in any play adapted from Charles Dickens. Liev Schrieber does play Sabretooth convincingly, although I feel they needed to give him bushier, stupider facial hair. The intense, passionate, and contrary feelings he holds for Wolverine are portrayed with amazing clarity. I actually don’t think I’ve seen emotions portrayed quite so convincingly from anyone in this entire franchise, with the exception of Patrick Stewart. And they only got those tears out of him by promising Rogaine, only to start laughing at the end of the shoot.

Effects wise, this movie is easily on par with every other part of the series. The only effect that I couldn’t suspend disbelief for was a moment where Wolverine downs a helicopter. I’ve got no issue with a single guy on a motorbike taking out a helicopter. I can totally believe that. What I find unbelievable was the way that the helicopter did not instantly explode upon landing, leaving a convenient amount of time for the occupants within to have their last soliloquy. Particle effects & CGI were par-excellence, with special “oooh” sounds going to Cyclops basically levelling his highschool. There’s also one scene where I swear Jackman piped up to the DOP and said “You know what? Let’s shoot this scene where I did Swordfish. We’ll get a cameo from Travolta!”. And because no one wanted to say no to a celebrity, but no one wanted to work with Travolta, back off to the red sands they went… You’ll see what I mean.

The only area that I felt was a real let down was the score. It could have been the speakers, but it just didn’t seem to flow all that well with the on screen action. It wasn’t jarring, or out of place. Merely bland. I’m aware that a lot of what actually provides mood for a film is the soundtrack. The use of sound is what scares the shit out of in The Ring. Likewise, it can move you in other ways. The score here failed to move me. No heart pounding during the action, no tears during the tragedy.

For a comic book adaptation, this movie is a massively enjoyable romp, and I do recommend seeing it if you enjoyed any of the original trilogy. Story wise, it does give insight into the way the Marvel universe operates under “movie rules”. The sort of rules that require actors to have, well, anatomy that conforms to human standards. The sort of rules that remind you costumes actually look really dumb when there are 86 belt pouches concealing the fact that hips can’t rotate that way. The sort of rules that re-imagine, instead of making some sort of travesty out of the source material.

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Ok ok ok, I know the joke’s wearing thinner than the latex on a big blue condom that’s been used for 6 hours straight, but I need to ride it while it’s still fresh in people’s minds.

So if Moore had a heart attack over the movie, and a brain embolism over the Saturday morning cartoon for the kiddies, what would he be like if DC sold the rights to advertising companies?

And what would those ads look like? We figure, something like this:

No need for rape when you have pie

Special thanks to The Theory of Everything guys for coming up with something this epic.

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Thanks to the Watchmen movie, Moore’s best loved comic is getting a lot of attention lately.

Considering Moore is already amazingly pissed off about how the movie treated his masterpiece, one has to wonder precisely how bad his heart attack would be if it were made into a Saturday morning childrens cartoon.

It would most likely look something like this:

Still, it can’t be nearly as bad as the American version of Akira.

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