NYCC 2011: Veni, Vidi, Vici

Aloha!

Sorry I haven’t been more attentive to this blog lately. I blame it on a combination of three things:

-        Coming back from NYCC with a bunch of projects I want to do.

-        Spending the weekend following NYCC on an impromptu road trip to Philadelphia, about which I cannot speak, due to the statute of limitations on certain events.

-        I bought Batman: Arkham City.  

I swear to God, the lack of bloginess is due more to the first two items than the third. Honest.

To make up for my slackeriness, I will endeavor to blog more regularly. To facilitate this, I will do a Q&A blog sometime in the next week or so. Send me some questions, if you are so inclined

NYCC WRAPUP!

Holy shit. That was a good time. Jenny and I have been attending New York Comic Con since its inaugural outing in 2006, and have been to every show since then, with the notable exception of 2010, when I was busily going blind. It’s one of the rare social or cultural events I have the privilege of having been in on the ground floor for (oddly enough, the only other example that springs to mind is the Warped Tour), so I feel oddly proprietary towards it.

The show has been getting bigger and bigger every single year, and this year almost everyone who had a basis of comparison said that it was reaching San Diego levels of humungousness. Despite having absolutely nothing to do whatsoever with the planning or execution of the show, I still felt strangely proud of that. Our little boy’s all groweds up.

TRAVIS’ TOP 5 AWESOME THINGS THAT HAPPENED AT NYCC 2011

1. I ARE A COMIC PROFESSIONAL

I got to rock my Pro Pass this year as a bona fide “person who makes funnybooks”. That was pretty righteous, not just for the ability to stand in slightly smaller than average lines, but for the looks on the faces of the occasional fanboy who would catch sight of the “Pro” on my laminate, and then try to decide if I was or was not Robert Kirkman*.  

I also got to do my first official comic book signing. Saturday morning, I found myself at the Grayhaven Comics table, hocking comics with the fine gentlemen of Grayhaven (Andrew, Doug, and James), and signing copies of the Gathering. I also got to hang out with the gorgeous, hilarious, and insanely talented Amanda “Clown Town” Rachels, and the gentleman’s gentleman, Len “Love Buzz” Wallace.

Me! (And Grayhaven Comics' James O'Callaghan)

A whole bunch of folks from the Bendis Board came and bought books from us while I was there. I was seriously blown away by the support I received from all these fine people. I am humbled and honored and thrilled to be a part of a community that has given so much to my life, including the lovely lady I tricked into marrying me.

Seated: James and I. Standing: Harry Crosland of the Next Issue Podcast, James Hooks, and Grayhaven's Doug Hahner

2. THE ANNUAL FRIDAY NIGHT BENDIS BOARD DRINKUP

A fine tradition harkening back to the first ever NYCC, the New York City Bendis Board regulars invite all travelling nerds to join them for an evening of food, libations, and fun. This was one of the bigger turnouts we have had, damn near filling the bar we chose, and scaring the living shit out of the bar’s manager. (Pat Loika has a picture of the guy’s face. It’s hysterical.) I had my shit together enough to actually learn every single person’s name, which, if you know me, you understand is a “snatch the pebble out of my hand” moment for me.

I had a blast with some of my best friends on the planet, made a lot of new friends, and laughed until I thought my ribs were going to snap. I think it can be truly said that a good time was had by all.

3. THE LOCKE AND KEY PILOT IS FUCKING AMAZING

The Powers that be were good enough to allow IDW to show the pilot episode of the “Locke and Key” series, based on the absolutely brilliant comic series by Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez. Oh my God, it was brilliant. The fact that it didn’t get picked up makes me angry enough to punch television in the face.

I am making it my mission in life to grassroots this series into existence. If you get a chance to see the pilot at a Con, DO IT. Also tell Joe Hill and IDW how much you love it. DO NOT download it or torrent it or any of that shit, as that’s the surest way to make sure it never sees the light of day.

4. THE WOMEN OF MARVEL KICK ASS

Hands down, the best panel I attended during NYCC was the “Women of Marvel” panel, held Sunday morning at an ungodly early hour.  The panel was moderated by Marvel Editor Jeanine Schaefer, and featured Colleen Coover ("Wolverine: First Class"), Kelly Sue DeConnick ("Osborn"), Editor Lauren Sankovitch ("Fantastic Four"), Editor Sana Amanat ("Ultimate Spider-Man"), Sara Pichelli ("Ultimate Spider-Man") Emma Rios ("Cloak And Dagger"), Marjorie Liu ("X-23"), and Editor Ellie Pyle.

It was an amazing hour. These women make me want to write better. They’re intense, brilliant, driven, and so fucking talented. I walked out of that room wanting to work with them. I wanted so badly to write something that they all thought was good. Talking to Chris Page after the panel, I told him, “I don’t know how hard it is to write for the average fanboy. Maybe hard, maybe not. But if I could write something that those women appreciated, THAT would mean I am killing it.”

It was especially amazing to be at that panel with Jenny. Watching her see these women doing what she wants to do, reassuring her that it CAN BE DONE. It was amazing to watch her face throughout the discussion and see how intensely and emotionally the whole thing resonated with her. If we had done nothing else the entire trip, that panel would have made NYCC worthwhile.

5. HANGING WITH KELLY SUE!

Kelly Sue DeConnick is one of my heroes. She’s an amazing writer, and a genuinely cool person. I’ve been spending a lot of time hanging on her forum on Jinxworld, and the people I have met there have all been top shelf (looking at you, Terry Tyson and Karen Mahoney). Kelly Sue has been just ridiculously generous with me, giving me advice that has truly helped me, and pushing me to do better. The one goal I had for the Con was to get to meet her face to face and tell her how much she had helped me out. And I finally got a chance to do so Sunday, after the Women of Marvel panel.

She might only be 5 feet tall, but she’s got ten feet of heart. Jenny and I are sort of in love with her.

*****

New York Comic Con, I salute you. You are truly big-assed and full of all varieties of glorious nerditry. See you next year!

Hugs and kisses,

(The)Travis

*Jenny did not get this joke until we saw Kirkman on "Talking Dead" this week. Then she turned and looked at me and said, "HOLY SHIT!"

Coming in 2012 - WACKY ZACK MUST DIE

WARNING: Shameless self-promotion to follow.

Since this past spring, I have been diligently working on my SUPER-SECRET ORIGINAL GRAPHIC NOVEL PROJECT. Now I can finally show you guys some teaser art from the book, drawn by my partner in crime, Mr. Chris Hopkins.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present your first look at WACKY ZACK MUST DIE.

Max is living a charmed life as the alpha-nerd of his particular zip code, but he knows he won't be truly happy until he finally lands the girl of his dreams, the delectable Kelly Dee. Only one thing stands in his way - her unicycle-riding, hamster-juggling, amateur prop-comedian boyfriend Wacky Zack. So as far as Max is concerned, there's only one solution. Wacky Zack must DIE.

In these pages, Max is attending his high school reunion. His adoration of Kelly Dee from afar is interrupted by his old high school nemesis, Rob Bannerman.

Chris is hard at work cranking out pages and finishing promotional material for the book. Our goal is to publish sometime in 2012. Watch this space for more details.  

NYCC 2011

Oh, goody! My favorite time of the year in the nerd calendar is at hand. New York Comic-Con 2011 will be kicking off this Thursday, October 13th through Sunday, October 16th. SO EXCITED!

I will be at the Grayhaven Comics booth (2547) on Saturday from 10am until noon, signing copies of The Gathering Volume 2 (“The Other Side ofDespair”, featuring “The Hopester Vs. Despairicus”, with art by Pat Loika), and Volume 6 (“Further into the Abyss”, featuring “Jack, Unblinking”, with art by Chris Page). Please stop by and say hello! Grayhaven Comics will also have Gathering Volume 5 on hand (“Love Letters”), featuring the story “Green Carnations” written by my lovely wife, Jenny Langin, and featuring art from Amanda Rachels (Clown Town).

Hugs and kisses,
(The) Travis

The Laura Hudson Sex/Sexism Kerfuffle: What Have We Learned?

So Laura Hudson, a very smart lady who writes very smart things about comics, posted something on Comics Alliance discussing how women are presented in superhero comics. (SPOILER ALERT: It’s not always in a good way.) Her article was based directly on two of DC Comics’ recent relaunched titles, Catwoman, and Red Hood and the Outlaws. If you haven’t already, read the article here. It’s very interesting, I think, and raises some damned good points.

The comics fan community on the internet, predictably, went apeshit. My favorite comment from the peanut gallery? “Hudson is the prime example as to why women shouldn't be able to access the Internet.” Charming.

Man, I struggled with this one. I have seriously been kicking this stupid blog around for almost 2 weeks, trying to figure out how to crystallize all of my thoughts on the topic into some coherent points. And I still don’t think I’ve managed that. Talking about this, in fact, might be the very definition of beating a dead horse.

But I’ve also kept my mouth shut after reading articles like this one on the SDCC “Oh You Sexy Geek” panel, and I had a very similar reaction to that article that I did to the Comics Alliance piece (and the almost immediate backlash). And I can't help but think about the criticism some women had for the "hentai" Heroes for Hire cover from a few years back, and how hostile a lot of the fan response was to those women. Again, my reaction was the same.

That reaction: Sometimes nerd culture is awfully mean to the ladies we say we love.

Look, I understand that processing criticism of comics you like and movies you dig (Sucker Punch, for a painfully obvious example), or video games you play, or whatnot can be a bit troublesome -  Especially when that criticism is that there is an inherently sexist or misogynistic streak running through your chosen entertainment. Nobody likes being told that they’re a creep. I get that. But here’s my point, if I have one at all. You don’t NEED to agree with Ms. Hudson’s article 100%. You don’t need to throw away your issues of Catwoman or Voodoo, or Red Hood. You don’t have to stop liking something you like. But you DO need to take a moment, and read the article carefully, and disengage your personal stake in the material from the criticism being leveled, and then acknowledge that – like it or not – SHE HAS A POINT.

Especially if you’re an aspiring comic creator.

I haven’t read any of the issues Hudson refers to. Not because of any specific issues with sex/sexism in these books, but just because they’re not my cup of tea, and that was made pretty clear to me before going into the relaunch. There’s other books in the DCnU that are tailor made for a reader like me, and those are the ones I sought out. So I can’t comment on the quality of these specific issues, nor would I, honestly, strictly as a matter of professional self-preservation. But what I DID do, is read the article and think about how I can maybe take some notes from it, as I try to build my career, as I try to tell my stories, and as I try to continue to grow recognition and appreciation of my personal favorite art-form.

And that’s all I think Hudson really wants. I don’t think she’s suggesting we march on the offices of DC with torches. I don’t see where she’s suggesting that everyone involved is a misogynist. I think, at most, she’s accusing the parties involved of being a bit careless, but that may be me reading into her words. At any rate, it’s the lesson I’m taking away: To remember to be careful. To remember that sex sells, but you have to know who’s buying it. To remember that if you want to write comics and stories that appeal to real women, you need to put some REAL women in there.  

Maybe it helps that I have so many women in my life that I love, respect, and (sometimes) fear. I think about how my Mom would react if she read a certain portrayal of a character. I think about the fact that I WANT to show my work to my wife and her amazing sisters. I think about how much I would love to be able to hand my younger female cousins some comics that speak to them without pandering to them, and that entertain them without insulting them. And I try to do my best, and I try to be CAREFUL.

I welcome discussion. Post your thoughts in the comments.

Hugs and kisses,

(The)Travis

I Can't Kill That Guy With My Chainsaw If I'm Hiding Behind This Rock...

TALKING WTH MY WIFE

Jenny, on the topic of menstruation: “Why does everyone say “On her period”? Like it’s a horse? ….. Well, maybe it’s a BIG RED HORSE that gallops all around and you have NO CONTROL over where it goes! It’s just galloping all over kicking people in the face and wrecking joints!”

YAY! VIDEO GAME TALK!

By the time you read this, Gears of War 3 will be out. I probably haven’t purchased a copy yet. But the active ingredient in that sentence is the “YET”, so rest assured that the sound you hear amongst the grinding of chainsaw teeth against putrescent alien flesh is me weeping in frustration.

I really love Gears, but it’s a very schizophrenic experience for me. I’ve been fascinated by the game since I first saw the TV ad for the initial installment.

Fucking WOW, right? There’s a promise of a game there that’s not only action packed, but tense, involving, and angsty. (It’s the promise of a game experience that Bioshock actually lives up to, oddly enough.) But it’s never quite realized by Gears. The aesthetic is there, and some of the existential despair, but it’s also codified within the body of a shooter game, which means it’s also going to be a lurking hive of the inherently stupid.

Unlike most games of this type, which seem to basically be a delivery mode for online play and the savage derision of the prepubescent, Gears actually has a single player mode that engages me. I’m committed to the story, in a way that I could never muster with a Call of Duty game. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to gun down aliens, instead of Nazis. My internal brain circuitry is better configured to dealing with a problem of invading subterranean grotesques than it is with actual genocidal monsters of flesh and blood.  It’s also because the heroes of the story - despite being gigantic, monosyllabic, lurking bundles of testosterone and bullets - are oddly sort of likeable. There is no poetry in hacking a Locust to chunks with your Lancer, but there is a sort of gleefully maniacal joy that our heroes take from the act. As my grandmother used to say, “It’s hard to argue with anyone who looks that happy.”

My issue with Gears is basically internal. Regardless of the game I am playing, and its ostensible category, I treat all gaming experiences as RPG experiences. I don’t have heart palpitations while playing Dead Space because of their masterful use of darkness and claustrophobic spaces, I do so because I do not want to have my flesh flayed from my body by oozing space zombies. I don’t know how YOU play Pac-Man, but I know things about his backstory and motivations that would shock you.

I blame some of this on my cousin Kevin. During our formative video game years, as young Atari enthusiasts, he would sit next to me as we played Missile Command and identify which of our family members were in each bunker, adding a fantastic layer of real-life stress and survivor guilt to what should have been a simple fucking game about shooting your glowing dot at the other glowing dot.  

So now take my fragile psychic projections, and strap them onto Marcus Fenix. Gears of War mixes a robust cover system with a protagonist who is constantly yelling exhortations to grind his enemies into paste.  Try to parse that for a minute. You are given the tools to move gingerly from cover to cover, avoiding conflict until the last possible moment, and you are armed with a machinegun taped to a chainsaw. I can’t keep up. I’m hiding behind rocks and chunks of beautifully rendered wall, thinking, logically, that it is a smarter place to stand than in front of bullets. And while I am doing this, Mr. Fenix is telling the Locust hordes about how he’s going to murder their mothers and rape their fathers. I feel like he’s judging me. He’s never yelled “MOVE ME INTO MELEE RANGE, QUEERBAIT!” But I feel like it’s implied.

Penny Arcade, as always, sums it up better than I ever could.

MISCELLANEOUS GOODNESS

My lovely wife, the insanely talented Jenny Langin, has her first published comic book story coming out very soon, in GrayHaven Comics’ Gathering Volume 5: Love Letters. Please check it out, and then tune back into the Gathering for Volume 6, where I have a scary story with art by Mr. Chris Page.

Hopefully some big comic book related news from me coming soon. Watch this space.

As always, Q’s for me to A are welcome. Hit me up in the comments here, on Twitter, or email me.

Hugs and kisses,

(The)Travis

I Hate Rob Liefeld. But Probably Not For the Reasons You'd Expect

I once loved a girl who, it turned out, didn’t love me back. So I hate Rob Liefeld.

Let’s backtrack.

The year was 1996, and I had spent a thrilling summer in wild, crazy, head-over-heels love with a young woman whose name we shall not utter here. She was the first great love of my life. If you subscribe to Chaz Palminteri’s speech in A Bronx Tale, she was definitely one of the Three Great Ones for me.

Sonny: Let me tell you somethin' right now. You're only allowed three great women in your lifetime. They come along like the great fighters, every ten years. Rocky Marciano. Sugar Ray Robinson. Joe Louis. Sometimes you get 'em all at once. Me? I had my three when I was 16. That happens. What are you gonna do? That's the way it goes, you know? Tell you right now. See this girl? Maybe this girl, she put wind in your sails. Maybe she's your first great one.  

After the summer was over, we had a huge tearful departure, and the promises of visiting each other as often as possible. I was going back to school at UCONN. She was headed back to Buffalo, NY. Despite all of the warnings we had heard about long distance relationships, we had no doubt that we would be the exceptions to the rule. That we would make it work.

I actually thought I might marry her.

At the same time, the comic book world is being rocked (I may be a bit hyperbolic here) by the aftermath of Marvel Comics’ “Onslaught” crossover. In a nutshell, a big bad guy named Onslaught, a psychic entity ripped from the merged souls of Professor X and Magneto, ran roughshod over the Marvel Universe for most of the summer. He was only defeated when the combined forces of the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, and the Hulk sacrificed their lives to banish him.

This epic was followed by “Heroes Reborn”, an alternate world relaunch of our heroes under the guidance of superstar artists Jim Lee and Rob Liefeld. Wizard Magazine was going absolutely apeshit over the news. It was a very big deal.

Now we turn to our hero (I mean me. I’m the hero.) as he takes the train from Hartford to Buffalo (something like an 8 hour trip, by the way) to see his lady love. She met me at the train station and we had a wonderful evening getting caught up. The next day she showed me all over Buffalo, and introduced me to all her friends. We met one of her professors, who remarked on what a handsome couple we were. We had a delicious dinner, and a romantic walk. We came home to her room and crawled into bed. Twenty minutes later she rolled over and told me she was breaking up with me.

It was brutal. I cannot oversell how bad it really was. She couldn't have taken me more by surprise or hurt me more if she had shot me in the gut.

So having just had my heart yanked out of my chest, and having a non-refundable, non-exchangeable ticket back to Hartford on a train that didn’t leave for two days, I found myself trapped in a strange city with very little cash, and the company of my now ex-girlfriend. It was definitely in the top five worst weekends of my life.

In retrospect, I know I should have just grabbed my bag and left, but I didn’t have any place to go. Though, again, in hindsight anything would have been better. Sleeping on a bench at the train station would have been better.

So what do you do when you’re trapped in your ex-girlfriend’s apartment? If you’re me, you grab the stash of comics you brought with you to read on the train back. Among those comics? Rob Liefeld’s Captain America #1.

I only had maybe a half a dozen comics with me.  And I read them over and over and over again. I read that issue of Captain America about 30 times. It was either that or go play Uno with my now ex-girlfriend and her roommates. By the time I was actually able to get on a train and go home, I was wrapped in a depression so thorough and all-encompassing that it was practically Shakespearian in its depth of tragedy. Also, I wanted to kill Rob Liefeld with a fireplace poker.

Poor Rob. He didn’t do anything wrong. I was a really big fan of his up until that point. I had collected all of his New Mutants and X-Force issues when he was with Marvel. And when he co-founded Image Comics, I was right there at the ground floor. I thought that Youngblood was the latest in French cool.

But after what was essentially a long weekend of aversion therapy, I now associated Rob Liefeld’s art with one of the worst times in my life. And I never bought another one of his comics again. You could have achieved the same thing by giving me an electric shock every time I looked at a page of Brigade.

Cut to this Wednesday.

Jenny stops at the comic book store on the way home and grabs this week’s comics. Among our normal pull, she picks up a handful of DC Comics’ “New 52” so that we can check them out. One of the ones she brought home was Hawk and Dove #1.  

Drawn by… guess who?

I looked at the book and looked at Jenny. “Really?” I asked.

“Yes, really,” she said, indignant. “I wanted to check it out.”

She then went into the next room where I can hear her messing with her phone. It turns out she is online trying to figure out why I am being such a dick about her taste in comics.

Thirty seconds later, I heard her gasp.

“Oh SHIT! Liefeld drew that one? I am SO SORRY!”

It’s okay, Jenny. It’s not your fault. And it’s not Rob’s fault either. He didn’t mean to break my heart.

Hugs and kisses,

(The)Travis

Winter is Coming, Y'all...

“The maester had taught him all the banners: the mailed fist of the Glovers, silver on scarlet; Lady Mormont’s black bear; the hideous flayed man that went before Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort; a bull moose for the Hornwoods; a battle-axe for the Cerwyns; three sentinel trees for the Tallharts; and the fearsome sigil of House Umber, a roaring giant in shattered chains. Even the sigil of House Holyfield, two extended middle fingers flanking a pair of rolling eyes.”* **

I spent the past week’s free time reading A Game of Thrones, the first book in George R. R. Martin’s epic Song of Ice and Fire series. In keeping with what lately seems to have become the pattern of my life, I am a VERY late adopter on this. (I also discovered I like Mumford and Sons this week. Hooray for being behind the curve!) Friends have been poking at me to pick this up since 1996, and I had managed to handily blow them off up until now. Predictably, I loved it, as they all said I would. But I stand by my reticence, and have no intention of picking up the sequel, A Clash of Kings, until sometime in 2012.  I’m not just trying to be contrarian, I swear. I’ve got good reasons behind my stubborn foot dragging.

Mostly, I just don’t like fantasy books.                           

I’ll take a moment and let the thick, rich, sugary irony of that to sink in. Understand that as I write that sentence, I am sitting two feet away from a stack of D&D Dungeon Tiles. I spent an hour earlier crafting a ruined keep with the intentions of inflicting it on a brave group of stalwart adventurers at my regular Tuesday night D&D game. I’ve been neck deep in Dungeons and Dragons for around 25 years, so for me to eschew fantasy on general principle would strike most who know my predilections as counter-intuitive, at best.

Look, early in my nerd life, I DEVOURED fantasy novels. I spent more hours in Xanth, and Pern, and Krynn, and Toril, and Narnia then I ever did in my home town – mentally, if not physically. I’ve hung out in Nehwon a lot, and spent my fair share of time in the Hyborian Age. And I just burned right out. That’s the fact.

A lot of it is due to the world-building aspect involved in fantasy literature. The nature of the genre, especially in the shadow of Tolkien, is to craft gigantic, sprawling tapestries full of rich geographic detail, full-blooded characters, and millennia of history, all of it dreadfully important to the epic narrative at hand. And for the most part, I can’t handle it anymore. I already know more about Middle Earth’s geography than I do about the actual planet I live on. There are only so many brain cells left available to me.

Truthfully, I know plenty of fans of the genre who can handle all of this detail no problem, and can switch back and forth between their favorite author’s realms with a barely audible click of the rails being shifted.  I’m not wired that way. “Different kind of nerd”, as Brian Posehn says. I can tell you way more than you probably care to know about Latveria, though. And draw you a map of Metropolis practically from memory. So I’m not cutting on anyone. Just saying I’m not strong in that particular style of nerd-fu. Spent my building points elsewhere, you might say.

So why did I finally pull the trigger on GoT? Because I watched the TV show, that’s why. I’m not normally the guy who prefers the movie to the book, I promise you (except for Jaws). But I found the TV show a much more accessible entrance point into Westeros than trying to pick up the books would likely have been.

Jenny and I saw the preview for the HBO show, and she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t peeing myself in excitement.  Not being an enthusiast of the books already, I told her I would check it out, but that I had my doubts as to whether or not it would stick in my mental craw. I mean, HBO is good and all, but it’s also the network that produces True Blood, which manages to be simultaneously one of the best shows on television and seven or eight of the worst .

So we watched the Game of Thrones premiere. And I had three thoughts that I took away from that episode.

1. Nobody in this show was safe. It would be a mistake to get too attached to anyone.

2. Nobody in the show had ever heard of the missionary position.

3. I was hooked.

Game of Thrones was my must-see TV for that first season. I watched it on the edge of my seat, and walked away from every episode sweaty and tense, and frothing at the mouth to see what was next. My reaction to episode 9 was not dissimilar to that of the gentleman in this video, although I think I phrased it differently. (Spoilers!)

At the end of the season, I felt like weeping, because Game of Thrones was over, and stupid True Blood was coming back to suck (no pun intended) an hour of my life on a Sunday.

That’s when everyone else I know who had not previously read the books jumped into them and plowed through everything available. But not I. I have read the first book. Read it and loved it. And I eagerly anticipate the second part of the story. AFTER THE NEXT SEASON OF THE SHOW. I’m enjoying the show on such a visceral level that I don’t want to chance ANYTHING interfering with that. (This also means if you try to spoil things for me, I will make like Joffrey Lannister and have your head on a spike.)

Jenny and I had fun the other day deciding on our house sigils (hers would be a uterus with a shotgun in front of it), and the words of our people (mine would be “Fuck ‘Em If They Can’t Take a Joke”).

It’s not going to be easy waiting until 2012 to see the next season of the show and then devour the next book. I know that. But Winter is Coming. And so is more Game of Thrones. I can be patient until then.

Hugs and kisses,

(The)Travis

*From A Game of Thrones, by George R. R. Martin.

**Well, not the last bit.

Five Movies that Scarred Me as a Child

Talking With My Wife, Part One

Jenny has come home from work. I am playing Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood.

Travis: I have minions!

Jenny: In what context?

Travis: In Assassin's Creed.

Jenny: How do you have minions?

Travis: I’m recruiting people for my guild.

Jenny: They’re not minions. It’s an association of young professionals.

Travis: No, they do my bidding! I send them out to kill people I don’t like.

Jenny: You are drunk with power.

*****

Five Movies That Scarred Me as a Child

Jenny and I have a pretty expansive cable package, which we maintain by threatening to drop cable altogether every 6 to 8 months, resulting in panicked deals and attempts at placation from our cable provider. It’s sort of an abusive relationship, but we’re firmly on the side of the abusER, so I don’t care.

Anyway, when you have access to several thousand channels, and you also suffer from frequent insomnia, you might find yourself, like me, staring at the TV at 4 am and trying to decide between one of several mid-to-low-card 80s films. This has been causing me to have some HORRIFIC flashbacks to my childhood, as I re-experience several movies that traumatized me as a kid.

The 80s were a great time for movies that would fuck up a small child. Disney was just on the tail end of a streak of “what the fuck” film decisions that resulted in some truly amazing movies like Tron and The Black Hole, but also gave us a lot of stuff where Bette Davis is creepy and evil.

Everyone my age has some sort of trauma relating to E.T. Mine wasn’t that it looked like E.T. was going to die. My mother, being forewarned at the affect the movie might have on her sensitive son, had made a big point of assuring me that E.T. wasn’t going to die. So I was fine with that part. But then, at the end, E.T. goes home and leaves Eliot behind with his asshole brother, his borderline retarded sister, and his absentee mom. Oh, and no friends whatsoever. E.T. to me is the story of a lonely little boy who has his magical best friend taken away by the government. That’s why I’m a liberal.

Anyway, here are five films that messed me up when I was a lad.

1. BABY, SECRET OF THE LOST LEGEND

This is one in a long line of films where the story introduces you to an adorable family of magical creatures and then proceeds to slaughter one or more of them. This movie has all the best parts of Bambi AND Dumbo (one doe-eyed dinosaur parent gets murdered, the other gets imprisoned by the evil human scientist people). The film has a very clear message about how dinosaurs are better than people, and also about how most scientists love torturing things. Unlike a “Jurassic Park”, I don’t even think you have the moment of cathartic release when the maliciously evil villains are killed and mutilated by velociraptors.  Admittedly, my memory on this is spotty. I only saw the movie once as a child, and it upset me enough that just seeing the movie poster causes PTSD. Fuck this movie. And fuck the Greatest American Hero for not doing more to help these dinosaurs.

2. PROJECT X

Not only is science evil, so is the military. And when they get together, whoa-nelly. The evil is practically off the scale. I mean, most people consider Doctor Doom pretty evil, but I’m not sure even he would think of strapping chimps into a flight simulator and then bombarding them with radiation. (Cosmis rays, maybe.)

Again, this is one of those movies where the endless cruelty against our protagonists is resolved with a desperate flight to freedom, the death of a loveable character, and a faked demise for most of the rest of the protagonists. You can also see this in D.A.R.Y.L., except that time is was robots, not apes. This is why the Rise of the Planet of the Apes remake was so awesome. Because by the time the third act comes around and all the apes are jumping through windows and electrocuting Draco Malfoy, you’re pretty much on their side. Project X needed more monkey-on-human violence.

3. TIME BANDITS

I actually did rewatch this not too long ago. This movie is so WEIRD. Let’s see… a neglected and lonely child (a theme in movies I watched as a kid, apparently) gets involved with six dwarves who are running away from God because they stole his map of the universe. Actually when I write it down, it doesn’t sound THAT weird. Except for the six dwarves, it sort of sounds like a Grant Morrison comic. But trust me, this movie is insane. And it has the most downer ending possible, where after being abandoned by the dwarves and God, the kid watches as his parents are disintegrated by a chunk of absolute evil.

In doing some research for this, I found out that George Harrison helped produce this. That makes sense because this movie is the visual equivalent of a guy playing a sitar. I don’t know how it is, it just is.

4. THE WATCHER IN THE WOODS

It’s Disney’s version of The Exorcist. Yeah.

5.    CLOAK AND DAGGER

Okay, so it’s another lonely little kid movie. This time it’s a kid whose dad is never around and clearly blames him for the death of the mother. The boy wraps himself up in role-playing games, make-believe adventures, and an imaginary friend who looks JUST LIKE HIS DAD.

I actually think this is a really good movie. But I also think that, for me, ten years old may be too young to confront your own issues with your father. Also I hate movies where they basically imply that imagination is dangerous and that to grow up you have to stop playing make-believe. That’s just completely untrue. Most of my favorite people have predicated their lives and careers on playing make-believe. I’m glad your dad came and saved you from terrorists, Henry Thomas. But you’d still be well-advised not to write off good old Jack Flak yet. Your dad’s still going to work tomorrow and leaving you sitting home alone with nothing to do.

Wow. This blog is saving me a week’s worth of therapy bills. AWESOME!

*****

Talking With My Wife, Part Two

Jenny is looking at the latest Rolling Stone, featuring a cover story on The Sheepdogs.

Jenny: This cover… what’s the name of the band in Almost Famous?

Travis: Stillwater.

Jenny: Yeah. That’s what these guys look like.

Travis: Yeah, they kind of do. And you know, I read the article… and it IS a think-piece.

Jenny: You’re such a fucking dork.

Hugs and kisses,

(The)Travis