Author: blakemp

Geek Punditry #39: In a Streaming World, Does Size Matter?

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Two years ago, in a move that made pundits across the world scratch their heads and say, “Well how the hell did that happen?”, Netflix purchased the Roald Dahl Story Company. This trust, of course, is responsible for the works of the creator of such things as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach, Matilda, and that one short story about the snake. At the time, Netflix announced that this acquisition would lead to the development of their own shared universe, copying the Marvel Method just like everybody else has been trying to do for the last decade. So far, though, we haven’t seen a ton of stuff that feels like it’s part of that world. We’ve gotten a film version of the theatrical Matilda: The Musical, and later this year they’re going to release Wonka, an origin story for a character that Tim Burton definitively proved in his film version has absolutely no need for an origin story, but not much else.

Pictured: Much Else.

Earlier this week, though, Netflix surprised us all by dropping The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, a film based on one of Dahl’s short stories. The movie is directed by Wes Anderson (who also directed the Dahl adaptation The Fantastic Mr. Fox back in 2009) and stars Benedict Cumberbatch as a compulsive gambler who finds a secret to a mysterious power that could potentially make him the wealthiest man in the world. Despite a premise that could easily go very, very dark, the film (and the story it is based on) is remarkably sweet and optimistic, lacking the cynicism that so often creeps in when modern filmmakers attempt to adapt a classic piece of literature that didn’t have a lot of cynicism in the first place. It’s very much a Wes Anderson film, carrying on an odd obsession with films mimicking stage plays that we also saw in his recent feature Asteroid City. The sets of the film are flown in and out in full view of the cameras, the majority of dialogue is spoken directly to the viewer as if the actors were narrating a play, and even visual effects are done in a dime-and-nickel fashion, such as making a character “levitate” by having the actor sit on a box painted to match the set behind him. It’s weird and bizarre and utterly delightful.

It’s also only 39 minutes long.

Although originally presumed to be a feature film when announced, Anderson quickly corrected people, saying that it’s actually the first of four shorts he is making adapting various Dahl stories for Netflix. True, 39 minutes is longer than most of us think of as a “short” film (the classic Looney Tunes shorts were usually in the seven-minute range, and even the Three Stooges rarely broke 20), but it’s certainly not long enough to qualify as a feature film, which has to hit at least 80 minutes to be worthy of consideration. We’ve all seen poorly-made films that pad out their running time to hit that mark, in some extreme cases even running the credits at an excruciatingly slow pace just to cross that 80-minute finish line. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences officially defines a short film as running no longer than 40 minutes, including credits, so Anderson got in just under the wire if he’s looking for Oscar consideration, which I’m sure Netflix would LOVE. 

“That’s 43 minutes, Wes. Ya gotta chop four more if you’re gonna party with this guy.”

The odd thing is, as recently as 10 years ago, a film of this nature would have struggled to find a home. Since the end of the era of true theatrical shorts (an era I long for, an era I would dearly love to see return), a lot of theaters never would have run one as long as Henry Sugar. The only way such a film would get any theatrical showing would be in a showcase of short films, which wouldn’t be in wide release, or as part of an anthology of shorts, which historically have not performed all that well. As far as a TV release, it could possibly be aired as a “special,” but would certainly be cut up to add commercial breaks, and possibly even cut down to make room for more commercials. At any rate, stopping a film of this nature to show an ad for Tide Pods would be absolutely gutting to the flow and pace, and make for a far less enjoyable experience than watching it all in one go, like a stage play, as Anderson intended.

Netflix is honestly the perfect home for a film of this nature, and it’s not just this one. Although I have many issues and concerns with the streaming culture that we all live in nowadays, one of the main advantages I think it has given us is the freedom to make a film as long or as short as necessary to tell the story. 

Many people get twitchy at the prospect of watching a movie that’s “too long” (these people usually define that as anything north of 90 minutes). I don’t know if it’s a short attention span or a bladder that just can’t wait, but once they see that runtime creep towards 130, 140 or higher, there are lots of people who would rather skip the whole experience. I have no problem with a long movie – most of my favorites would fall into this category, in fact – so long as the story justifies the length. I hear people complain about the length of the Peter Jackson Lord of the Rings films, for example, but I’ve never been given a satisfactory answer when I ask them what they think could be cut for time without damaging the story. This is why miniseries became so popular in the 80s and 90s, giving more time to adapt a novel that couldn’t fit into a two-hour theatrical experience. It’s why full television series are now being based on books, things like Game of Thrones or Outlander, stories that just flat-out couldn’t squeeze into a movie. And this is, for the most part, a positive thing.

A priceless moment of cinema.

The opposite is also true, however. If stretching out a movie longer than it should be is dull, padding a short movie to make it feature length is deadly. As an avid and enthusiastic moviegoer, I’ve probably seen hundreds of films in theaters over the course of my life, and one of the few times I can remember ever actually falling asleep was in the 2001 film Imposter. (Side note: pound for pound, boring movies are even worse than bad movies. A boring action movie is simply unforgivable.) The film was about an alien race using androids as hidden human bombs trying to attack Earth, and Gary Sinese’s desperate attempt to prove he was not one of these living bombs. It’s a good concept, and Sinese is a great actor, so it’s almost criminal how unbearably dull that film is. I was baffled as to how such an excruciatingly boring movie could be made…until I found out that it was originally made as a short film, part of an anthology of science fiction stories, and it was then expanded out to feature length. If you carved out the parts of the movie that were part of the original short, you may have had a good, taut sci-fi thriller, but by adding additional unnecessary scenes to essentially triple the length of the film, it’s as entertaining as watching Hollywood accountants try to lie about how much money a movie made. 

This movie, for instance, made at least twelve bucks while I took a nap.

Telling a short story is an art that requires different skills than longform stories. The tools are the same, but you wield them differently. A long story can spend time developing plot AND character AND setting AND mood AND theme, whereas shorter works often have to settle for focusing on just one or two of the elements. When it’s done well, it can be a masterpiece. But even those masterpieces can be damaged if you go back and start adding things that don’t belong. It’s like taking a VW Beetle, cutting it in half, and inserting a segment from a stretch limousine. You’ve taken two perfectly good automobiles and turned them into an abomination that doesn’t belong on the road.

It’s hard to make a feature film out of a short story, because by definition, those stories are intended to be short. It CAN be done very well, of course. Several of Stephen King’s short stories have been made into solid features – 1408, the original Children of the Corn, and by all accounts the new adaptation of The Boogeyman (I haven’t seen it yet but I hear very good things about it) each took a brief story and expanded it into features that are engaging and entertaining. On the other hand, sometimes the filmmakers can’t quite build a feature out of a short story, giving us lesser offerings like The Mangler. And sometimes they just try to trade on the name and make no effort at adapting the story at all, and here I of course am referring to Lawnmower Man.

Children’s books are frequent victims of this problem. Books for kids – especially picture books for young children – may only have enough story to last 20 minutes or so. But if you want a theatrical release, that just ain’t long enough, and you have to start inventing stuff out of whole cloth. Sometimes it works. Dreamworks took two short children’s books – Shrek and How to Train Your Dragon – and turned them into flourishing franchises by using the book more as inspiration than a blueprint. On the other hand, look at the awful efforts that the late Dr. Seuss has been subjected to. There have been two separate feature films based on How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and both of them suffer from inflation and unnecessary backstory. What Chuck Jones nailed in 26 minutes, Ron Howard and Jim Carrey puffed out to a painful 104. 

The less said about The Cat in the Hat, the better.

Scientific proof that bigger isn’t always better.

The streaming world has changed this paradigm, though. Previously, there were only two “acceptable” outlets for a film: television or theatrical release. Sure, direct-to-video was a thing, but those usually tried to emulate theatrical movies in form, either to fool people or to maintain an air of respectability. But whether you were making a project for theaters or TV, either way you were chained by scheduling in one way or another. In traditional ad-supported television, almost anything you make has to fit perfectly into a strict schedule of 30 or 60-minute blocks, minus an exact amount of time for commercials. Deviation is not tolerated, because we have to fit in a very specific amount of advertising time. Even premium cable channels, which are not beholden to advertisers, often use that 30-minute grid for scheduling, then pad out the remaining time with promos for their own networks so they can start the next movie or TV show on the hour.

Theatrical movies have a little more wiggle room – there isn’t a hard and fast rule that a movie has to be EXACTLY 90 minutes – but there are still parameters that have to be adhered to. If a movie is less than 80 minutes, theater chains usually won’t run it, as filmgoers will be disappointed at spending $127 on tickets, candy, and soda to take their family out to see something that’s over in under an hour and a half. On the other hand, the longer a movie is, the fewer times a day it can be shown, meaning fewer tickets sold, which again makes theater owners hesitate unless it’s a film they feel is a guaranteed blockbuster. Marvel movies can get away with a longer runtime because they historically bring big box office. Oscar bait dramas can do so as well, particularly if they come from a major studio. But if you’ve got a no-name director, no big stars, and aren’t tied to a recognizable IP, showing up at AMC with your 3-hour long epic about the Battle of New Orleans probably isn’t going to fly.

But on Netflix, Prime Video, or any of the other bajillion streaming services, neither of these factors need to be considered. A viewer doesn’t have to be in front of their TV at 8 o’clock because that’s when their favorite show airs anymore. They don’t have to show up at the theater at 6:45 to get settled in before the previews roll at 7, and they don’t have to worry about running out in the middle of the film to feed the parking meter because Kumquat Warriors 7: The Kumquatening is a longer movie than the previous three combined. In a streaming world there is no reason to make a movie or TV show any longer or shorter than is necessary to effectively tell the story. 

By the time Avatar 4 comes out, you’re gonna need to get a hotel room for the night to finish it.

Streaming series have been running with this a lot. Although they still kinda aim for the old TV paradigm of half-hour comedies and one-hour dramas, they aren’t strict about it. If an episode takes 37 minutes instead of 30, no big deal. If it only reaches 48 minutes instead of 60, we can let it slide. The series The Orville, for its most recent season, jumped from the Fox broadcast network to the Hulu streaming service, and once they were no longer locked in to 42 minutes of show plus 18 for commercials, they delivered an entire season of episodes that went well over an hour. Several of them are long enough that they could have been released as theatrical films. And for the most part, they were very entertaining and compelling, using the freedom of the format to great effect.

And while movies can have the freedom to get longer, things like Henry Sugar are demonstrating that the real freedom is to get shorter. In 2020, in the midst of the Covid lockdowns, Rob Savage made a horror film called Host. The film used the lockdown to great effect, telling a story of a group of friends on a zoom meeting that accidentally summon a dangerous spirit. Shudder picked the movie up and it became a cult hit, despite the fact that the running time is only 57 minutes. This is a film that never could have found a theatrical release without adding a half-hour of fluff, but the streaming world allowed Savage to just tell his story as he saw fit, and that gave it wings that it wouldn’t have had with any traditional distribution model.

To be fair, though, most of us feel this way if we need to attend a Zoom meeting for work.

There are a lot of things about the streaming world that concern me – I’ve mentioned many of them before. But if there’s one thing that is definitely positive about it, it’s the fact that time constraints are largely a thing of the past. The freedom to tell a story in the most effective way without trying to adhere to largely arbitrary rules of running time has already produced some really great content. The important thing is that a filmmaker is allowed to include whatever is necessary but not forced to add things that don’t matter, and that path (in the hands of a skilled crew) will make better movies. If there’s nothing else we can learn, it’s that when it comes to telling a good story, size isn’t what matters at all.  

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. He‘s hoping that this season’s finale of Lego Masters has a seven-hour streaming cut.

Geek Punditry #38: Whence Elseworlds?

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Multiverses are big these days. What was once a relatively niche science fiction concept has become popularized by things like the Spider-Verse movies, Best Picture winner Everything Everywhere All At Once, and about seven thousand fanfics where the guy from the Avatar: The Last Airbender cartoon meets and beats up his counterpart from the live action movie. So it’s odd to think that one of the first fictional worlds to use the multiverse as a major concept once attempted to do away with it because it was deemed too confusing. DC Comics introduced its multiverse in 1961 with Flash #123, in which writer Gardner Fox had the Flash of that time period (Barry Allen) meet the Flash of the 1940s (Jay Garrick). The problem was it had been established earlier that, in Barry’s world, Jay Garrick was considered a fictional character that Barry had read about as a child. The fix was to declare Jay’s world an alternate universe, an “Earth-2,” even though he had been around first. Fox was even slick enough to write himself into the story, claiming that the writer “Gardner Fox” had some sort of telepathic link to the other world and didn’t realize the stories he was conjuring that he believed to be pure fiction were, in fact, reporting on actual events from Earth-2. It was a wild, crazy concept for the time, and it started an avalanche.

In the 90s, DC Comics gave us Elseworlds, a series of books set outside of the "real" DC Universe that fans quickly latched on to. This week in Geek Punditry, I take a brief look at the origins of the imprint, the history of DC'S multiverse, and explain how Elseworlds is back -- even if DC doesn't want to admit it.
“How long do you think we can keep this up?”
“Oh, I’d say at least 60 years.”

It wasn’t too long before the Silver Age Green Lantern, Hal Jordan, met his own Earth-2 counterpart, Alan Scott. Heroes who had been continuously published since the Golden Age and were not replaced by other characters (predominantly Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman) discovered that they had almost identical doppelgangers on Earth-2, and eventually the Earth-1 Justice League of America met the Earth-2 Justice Society for an annual get-together. 

And once there are two universes. why not more? Earth-3 had villainous versions of the heroes: Superman became the evil Ultraman, Batman the crafty Owlman, Green Lantern the kinda lame and poorly-named Power Ring, and so forth. Then DC started adding worlds that included the characters they’d purchased from other defunct publishers: the heroes of Charlton Comics inhabited Earth-4, the Shazam! Family of Fawcett Comics fame was from Earth-S, and the heroes of Quality Comics were shifted off into Earth-X – a world where the Nazis won World War II! 

“Not gonna lie to you, Sam, this is kind of awkward.”

By the 80s, though, DC felt that things had gotten unwieldy, so writer Marv Wolfman gave us Crisis on Infinite Earths, their first mega-crossover event, in which all but one Earth was destroyed and the surviving heroes of many different worlds came to reside there. Both Green Lanterns and Flashes, otherworldly heroes like Plastic Man, the Blue Beetle, and Captain Marvel, and many more populated this “new” DC Universe. For the most part, I think this has worked to DC’s benefit over the years – it’s easier to build a cohesive world if all your main characters inhabit the same universe. Were it not for this, we never would have had the Blue Beetle/Booster Gold friendship, the Flash family wouldn’t have developed into the legacy it currently is, and people would have forgotten about Peacemaker long before John Cena showed up to actually make him interesting for a change. Despite that, though, I have always disagreed with the fundamental thesis that led to the writing of Crisis in the first place – that a multiverse storyline was too complicated for the casual reader. And if anything, the proliferation of multiverse stories in recent years, I think, has proven me to be correct.

What’s more, I think even many of the writers at DC Comics felt the same way, because it wasn’t too long before they started to branch out again and tell stories that didn’t fall into the canon of the one and only DC Universe. Just three years after Crisis ended, DC published Gotham By Gaslight, a one-shot story by Brian Augustyn and Mike Mignola, which featured a Victorian Batman doing battle with Jack the Ripper. The book was a hit, and the idea of telling stories of DC heroes in different worlds came back. Batman: Holy Terror by Alan Brennert and Norm Breyfogle, showed an alternate history in which the British Empire never fell out of favor and the colonies in North America are run by an oppressive government. In this version, Batman becomes a sort of Guy Fawkes-esque character, rebelling against British rule. This book was labeled an “Elseworlds” title, and the name became the brand under which DC stories from outside the continuity took place for the next decade and a half.

Original slogan:” Elseworlds-Because there can’t be too many different versions of Batman.”

Over the years we got some magnificent books, each casting the heroes of the DC Universe in different scenarios. In Superman: Speeding Bullets, Kal-El of Krypton crashed not in Kansas, but in Gotham City, where he was raised by Thomas and Martha Wayne. Batman: In Darkest Night showed us a world where Abin Sur crashed in Gotham City instead of Coast City (a LOT of alien spacecraft touch ground in Gotham in Elseworlds) and thus Bruce Wayne became Earth’s Green Lantern instead of Hal Jordan. Justice Riders casts the Justice League in a western yarn and The Golden Age tells a bittersweet ending to the saga of the Justice Society. Even crossovers with other companies occasionally bore the Elseworlds brand – Batman met both Marvel’s Captain America and Tarzan (published, at the time, through Dark Horse Comics) in Elseworlds stories.

Perhaps the high point of the imprint came in 1996, when Mark Waid and Alex Ross published their four-issue masterwork Kingdom Come. Set a few decades in the future, this is a DC Universe that has been disintegrating ever since Superman left humanity behind following the tragic death of his wife, Lois Lane, and the brutal murder of her killer, the Joker, before he could face justice. In his absence, the world has been overrun by a new breed of metahuman, heroes in name only, more interested in fighting each other than protecting the human race. In this story the Spectre takes a minister named Norman McCay on an Ebenezer Scrooge-type tour of this world as Superman is called back to action following a catastrophic event that pushes the entire Earth to the edge of annihilation. The story is largely a response to the sort of over-muscled, over-gunned, over-pouched heroes that were so popular in the 90s, and despite having a distinct dystopian flavor, it is ultimately one of the most beautiful and powerfully optimistic stories comics have ever produced.

You’re probably expecting some kind of joke here, but this is just straight-up one of the greatest comic book series ever made.

DC quietly pushed the Elseworlds brand aside in 2003, the argument being that it had become overused and was starting to grow stale. It’s hard to argue with that, too, especially when you start counting the number of Elseworlds that basically boiled down to “Kal-El landed somewhere other than Smallville, Kansas.” (Off the top of my head, we’ve got Superman: Red Son, Superman: The Dark Side, Superman: True Brit, JLA: The Nail, The Superman Monster, and even another Dark Horse collaboration, Superman/Tarzan: Sons of the Jungle, all of which hinge on that same basic point.) As the multiverse was slowly creeping back into the “real” DC Comics, Elseworlds was placed…well…elsewhere. It came back briefly in 2010 for a three-issue Superman miniseries, Last Family of Krypton (this time little Kal-El’s parents escaped Krypton with him), and the name was used for an Arrowverse crossover event on TV, but other than that, it’s been gone for a long time.

“Okay, so you’re kind of over Batman Elseworlds. How about 37 Superman Elseworlds that all have the same starting point?”

Or has it?

DC is not using the name anymore, no, but they certainly are using the same basic concept. There are a lot of DC books being published that feature versions of the DC heroes in different worlds. Sean Phillips’s Batman: White Knight and its various sequels and spinoffs are set in a world where the Joker goes sane. Since that series premiered in 2017, it’s built a small universe of its own. There’s also the world of DCEased, a universe in which Darkseid succeeds in gaining the Anti-Life Equation, unleashing a memetic virus that transforms its victims into a sort of techno-undead creature, but don’t you dare call them zombies. Jurassic League was a miniseries that re-cast the Justice League as anthropomorphic dinosaurs, because why the hell not? Dark Knights of Steel features a medieval world where Jor-El, Lara, and Kal-El came to Earth together and live in a sort of fantasy setting surrounded by analogues of the other DC heroes and villains. And then there’s the cleverly-named DC Versus Vampires, which is about the signing of the Magna Carta.

Pictured: Pope Innocent III and King John.

Kidding. No, it’s exactly what it says on the wrapper. 

The thing about these books is that none of them are self-contained. Most Elseworlds, back in the day, ran anywhere from one to four issues, but that was typically where it ended. White Knight and DCEased both had multiple series and one-shots. Vampires and Steel each ran for 12 issues plus spin-offs. And each of these worlds has been designated a number in the new, current, DC Multiverse. They are Elseworlds in all but name – in fact, in a more literal sense than many of the older (forgotten) Elseworlds books, as they are actually other worlds in the DC Multiverse. Many of the other Elseworlds of the past have been “imported” into the new DC Multiverse as well, especially the much-loved and highly-inspirational Kingdom Come, which has crossed over and interacted with the “Main” DC Universe on many occasions, including in Waid’s current run on Batman/Superman: World’s Finest.  

Since DC has once again embraced the concept, what I (and, I suspect, many of the fans who were reading comics in the 90s) would like is for them to once again embrace the brand. Bring back Elseworlds. When these books are reprinted, give them the label. When the inevitable sequels come out, give them the label. If anything, the label will only help. While it may be clear that Jurassic League isn’t the “real” DC Universe, a casual fan picking up DC Versus Vampires might be concerned about why Hal Jordan is doing his best Dracula impression in this series but it doesn’t seem to be affecting the regular monthly Green Lantern title. Having a specific brand would alleviate that problem.

The only difference between these and an Elseworlds is the label.

And since the current philosophy at DC seems to be “every story happened SOMEWHERE in the Multiverse,” I say they should run with it. Don’t just put the Elseworlds LABEL on the book, plop a NUMBER in it as well. When they print the Dark Knights of Steel omnibus, give it an Elseworlds logo with a little mark signifying that this is Earth-118. Instead of reprinting Kingdom Come under the “mature readers” Black Label imprint (where it is woefully misplaced), give it back the Elseworlds mark and label it as Earth-22. There are two more miniseries coming out this year set on Earth-789, the world shared by the Christopher Reeve Superman and Michael Keaton Batman movies – give THOSE the Elseworlds labels too!

It exists, it has fans, and it has a clear purpose now that’s more than just a grab bag of weird. It’s true that the label was overused in the 90s, but the solution to that isn’t to never use it again, it’s just to use it sparingly. There’s no fan of the books that currently exist that would be turned off by an Elseworlds label, and there are many fans who may be more inclined to pick them up if they saw that familiar, beloved brand again. If nothing else, I think, it’s worth the try. Nothing in comics ever really dies – Superman can come back from Doomsday, Barry Allen can come back from the Speed Force…let’s let the Elseworlds brand have its time back from the dead. 

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. Fingers crossed for the Elseworlds miniseries set on Earth-26, home of Captain Carrot. By now you should know he’s not joking.

Geek Punditry #37: What’s Your Favorite Scary Franchise?

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I’ve said it before and it’s worth repeating: what true fans want, above all else, is more. And this is especially true of horror movie fans. The concept of a “horror franchise” goes back at LEAST to 1935, when Bride of Frankenstein was the first sequel to one of the classic Universal Monster movies. (One could even argue that it goes back to the Golem films of the silent era, but only one of those has survived.) Frankie’s creature would go on to appear in eight official films, with his pals Dracula, the Wolfman, the Invisible Man, and the Creature From the Black Lagoon each appearing several times. In the 70s and 80s, the horror franchise became a cinematic staple, with the likes of The Exorcist and The Amityville Horror paving the way for the slasher icons of Halloween, Friday the 13th, and A Nightmare on Elm Street, among a sea of others. I love horror movies, and I appreciate many of the great franchises throughout history. But when I look at the vast sea of horror available, I’m surprised to see which franchise – besides the Universal classics, of course – holds the trophy as my personal favorite…the bloody good adventures of Ghostface in the Scream series. 

“I wish I knew how to quit you…”

Having recently watched the sixth and most recent film, I’ve been thinking about why I enjoy them so much. I’m not going to start a debate over which series is the best – there’s no way that you’re going to convince anybody that their personal favorite isn’t the best and it’s useless to try – I’m just saying that it’s the one that means the most to me. There are a few reasons for it. First off, there’s nostalgia. Believe it or not, Scream was the first horror franchise I ever got into. Growing up in the 80s, I already knew the characters and tropes of slasher films via cultural osmosis, but my parents weren’t into horror movies and I was never really exposed to them until college, when my friend Jason showed me the first Scream. (Jason was the manager of a video store at the time, then later the owner of the video store, then later employed in an entirely different line of work because video stores ceased to be a thing.) We watched Scream because Jason wanted to see the newly-released Scream 2 and I HAD to see the original first, and he was right. I was hooked. I loved the meta comedy, I loved the characters, and I was impressed at the structure of the mystery. Even before I considered myself a horror fan, I was a fan of Ghostface. 

This was cool in the 90s, I swear.

Over the next few years I branched out and slowly acquainted myself with the films of Freddy, Jason, Michael, and the rest, but I kept coming back to Scream. There are great films in every horror franchise, but to this day this is the only franchise where I haven’t seen anything I would classify as a “bad” movie. Even the worst Scream film (that would be Scream 3, for those of you keeping score) is watchable, with funny moments and good twists, and I would never skip over it when doing a rewatch of the series the way I would, say, Halloween: Resurrection. 

It’s not even close.

Even in the early years I felt somewhat protective of the franchise. While 3 was not my favorite, I accepted it as the end of the story, capping off the trilogy in a way that tied things up and left the characters I cared about in a satisfying place. When word came of the fourth installment 11 years later, I was somewhat disturbed, thinking that it would break the ending of a supposedly-completed story the way other franchises have (lookin’ at YOU, Toy Story 4), but with both director Wes Craven and original writer Kevin Williamson returning, I decided to give it a chance. To my shock, I thought it was the best film since the first and eagerly awaited part 5. I did not expect it to take another 11 years, the death of Craven, and a quasi-relaunch to get it going again…but the relaunches have worked for me as well, in ways that many other remakes, reboots, and “requels” have not. 

There’s something unique about the way the franchise has been crafted. One of the strengths, I think, is Ghostface himself. Unlike most other horror franchises, the “face” doesn’t belong to a singular villain that comes back from the dead time and again. Ghostface is merely a mask, picked up by a different character (or more than one) each time to wreak havoc all over again. This allows the franchise to maintain the mystery of who the killer is each time (something that Friday the 13th had to abandon after the first installment). It also doesn’t have to worry about how to resurrect the villain time and again, with increasingly complicated supernatural rules that can get confusing and run the risk of being contradicted by future installments (such as what happened to A Nightmare on Elm Street). And unlike most other long-running horror franchises, it has never been rebooted (just TRY to explain the Halloween timeline to someone who isn’t already a fan). That really means something to people like me.

“So in the FIRST continuity Michael had a niece named Jamie and in the SECOND continuity he had a nephew named John and in the FOURTH continuity he wasn’t related to Laurie Strode at all and in the ROB ZOMBIE continuity — hey! Why aren’t you taking notes?”

I think this also makes it easier to accept changes in the franchise, the fact that there’s a singular figure, but not a singular character propelling the plot along. Replacing the actor behind a horror icon is tricky. If you ask most fans, Robert Englund IS Freddy Krueger, Doug Bradley IS Pinhead, and efforts to recast them have at most been grudgingly tolerated, and at worst, outright rejected. Even icons who wear masks and have been portrayed by multiple actors still spark a heated debate. Ask any group of fans who the best Jason Voorhees was and you’ll find the room sharply divided between those who believe it’s Kane Hodder and those who are certifiably insane.

The closest thing Ghostface has to an icon performer is Roger L. Jackson, who has provided the voice of the killer in every movie. He would be difficult to replace, because he’s so damned good at delivering a voice that can shift between charming, snarky, and terrifying at the snap of a finger, but when the time comes that he’s unwilling or unable to keep going, it wouldn’t be a death knell for the series.  

There’s no point in arguing who the “best” Ghostface is because every Ghostface is different and brings something different to the table, and that’s by design. It would be bonkers to argue whether Billy Loomis was a “better” Ghostface than Mickey Altieri, because they’re not the same character. Sure, one could (and will) argue about which performance or story or motivation or one-liners they enjoy more, but there’s no room for arguing that one of them goes against the “spirit” of the character the way one could do with Michael Myers. (Is he supernatural? Is he not? Is it Tuesday? What was with that guy with the black boots?) 

I know it seems like I’m picking on the Halloween franchise a lot. That’s because for every masterpiece of horror in that line, there are two movies full of crap like this.

It’s this versatility in the main villain that allows the franchise to be malleable and re-started every so often without the kind of pushback you had against Jackie Earle Haley as Freddy Krueger. It also allows the tone of the series to shift slightly as sensibilities change. The original Scream was a slasher movie about people who had watched too many slasher movies. As the franchise continued, it got deeper into the metafictional aspect of the concept. Scream 2 was a sequel about horror movie sequels, and introduced the “film-within-a-film” Stab, which was based on the events of the first movie and proved to provide fuel for the rest of the franchise going forward. In Scream 3, we saw the conclusion of a trilogy about trilogies. Scream 4 was a movie about remakes (but not really). The 2022 Scream was about “requels” and included a joke at its own expense about dropping the number even though everybody knew it wasn’t an actual continuity reboot. With Scream VI they’ve finally embraced the idea of the rules of franchises, as opposed to specific installments. Where they go after this, I’m honestly not sure, but I’m along for the ride.

First the Muppets, then Jason, and now Ghostface takes Manhattan.

Some people will ask how I can stack Scream up against other horror franchises, many of which I enjoy very much, but this is without a doubt the series that I’ve rewatched more than any other. It helps that there are (for now, at least) fewer of them than most of the other really iconic series. There are currently six Screams, and until January of last year, there were only four to throw into a quick binge. When you put together every iteration of the franchise A Nightmare on Elm Street has given us nine films, Friday the 13th is at 12, and Halloween has churned out a weekend-slaughtering 14. The less said about how the Amityville name has been pimped out, the better. 

The fact that it’s never been rebooted makes it feel a bit more – and I hesitate to use this word, but I can’t think of another one – a bit more real. Freddy’s seventh film went into an entirely different continuity, although it did so brilliantly. The Friday movies never technically had a reboot until the remake came out, but it also plays fast and loose with what actually “counts,” especially the later films. The last three of them make virtually no attempt to directly follow the earlier movies at all. Get somebody who doesn’t watch horror to watch the first Friday the 13th and then Jason X and see if they can figure out how the dots connect. The upcoming Crystal Lake prequel TV series will probably not make things any clearer, for that matter. 

And then there’s Michael. You know the rest.

But every installment of Scream (save for the in-name-only TV series from a few years back) is part of the same continuity, despite playing with the rules of remakes and requels. Every film not only counts, but is recounted in the later films. There are scenes in the most recent film that are full of what film nerds like me call “continuity porn,” full of elements and items that not only recall all of the previous films, but are ripped straight from them, but it’s done in a justifiable way. I’m anxious to find the website where someone (inevitably) has cataloged all of the Easter Eggs that can be spotted by going through that scene one frame at a time, because I’m sure there’s a lot that I missed.

In a surprise crossover, Ghostface takes decorating advice from Tony Stark.

Speaking of the most recent film, the one that came out earlier this year, it’s an interesting anomaly. Without getting into spoiler territory, it’s the one where the “rules” seem to matter least, but it pulls it off without sacrificing the love of movies that is at the core of the story. Ghostface is behaving differently this time around, and the film pulls off some great red herrings that work because it plays with the expectations of horror movie fans, but at the core it still has Scream in its DNA. And this is where I think they’ve got to start figuring out how to keep the franchise going, if that is indeed the intention. (Seeing as how they’ve already done preproduction for Scream VII, it seems clear that it is.) They’ve touched on pretty much everything they can on horror movies of the last few decades. If they don’t want to wait another 10 years or so for horror to evolve again, they’ve got to find different ways to make the story work. They’ve built a solid and likable core group of characters that is sufficiently different from the original trio of Sidney, Dewey, and Gale to not just feel like a remake. At the same time, they’ve also kept the window open to bring back the legacy characters, which this film does in a mostly satisfying way. This film – being the second story with these characters – also has some echoes of Scream 2 in terms of setting and motivation, without just being a copy. And that leaves the question about the next one…eh, More on that in a minute. 

Wherever they go, I will be there to watch, and anxious to see who the next people are to don the Ghostface mask and cause a little terror and a lot of laughs. Whereas once I was satisfied to let it lie, I now feel optimistic for the future of this story, and happy to note that there is, indeed, life after Wes. 

If you’ve already watched every Scream movie to date, including VI, skip below my standard plug for a little bonus – I pontificate about the identity of the killer in Scream VII. By necessity, my theory will have spoilers.

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. Roger L. Jackson has got to have one of the sweetest gigs in Hollywood, right? Every few years he comes in, spends a few hours recording lines off-camera, and is one of the most recognizable horror icons of all time.

I’m about to take you for a ride.

You back? Great. Okay, so I think I’ve already figured out the killer of Scream VII, and it’s before they’ve even filmed a frame of it. Actually, I have two theories, and it really depends entirely on how dark they’re willing to get. The new series is, in essence, “requeling” the original trilogy. Scream (2022) is the requel of the original: a girl (Neve Cambpell/Melissa Barrera) is stalked by a killer indulging ties to her past (Sidney’s mother/Sam’s father). In the end the killer – or one of them, at least – turns out to be her boyfriend (Skeet Ulrich/Jack Quaid).

I made it through this whole column without a Star Trek reference, so let me just quickly say how awesome Quaid is on Lower Decks.

Scream VI requels Scream 2: the characters are now in college, and the main killer turns out to be a side character (Laurie Metcalf/Dermot Mulroney) who was secretly the parent of the previous killer and is seeking revenge for his death. 

Laurie Metcalf murders considerably fewer people on The Big Bang Theory.

If they continue following the pattern, Scream VII would logically requel Scream 3. This was the only film in which the killer went solo (which is called out in VI), and it turned out to be Sidney’s long-lost half-brother Roman Bridger (Scott Foley). So for Scream VII, are they going to go the long-lost half-sibling route again?

Nah. I think they’re going to go for the half-sibling that’s right in front of our face. I think it’s going to be Jenna Ortega’s Tara. She’s the half-sister of the main character, so she would fit the pattern. There’s even a bit of dialogue in VI that points out how logical it would have been if, at some point, Courteney Cox’s Gale Weathers had snapped from her repeated trauma and become a Ghostface herself. That could easily be seen as teeing up the ball for it to be Tara in the next go-around.

TELL ME THIS DOESN’T MAKE SENSE.

Let’s call that Theory A. The biggest question mark is if the series would REALLY go that dark, allowing us to grow attached to a character for two movies before pulling the twist and making her the villain. They MIGHT…but if they don’t, I still think the killer would have to have a family connection. In that case, Theory B: the killer will turn out to be Tara and Sam’s absent mother. She’s never appeared on screen. Sam rejected her for lying about who her father really was, and when the truth came out it ended her marriage to Tara’s father. When Tara learned the truth in her first film, she cut off ties to her mother as well. She could be coming after Sam for “stealing” her family from her. Still dark – a mom wanting to murder her daughter – but not QUITE as dark as making Tara the killer.

Of course, these are theories and – with the Hollywood strikes continuing – who knows what’s going to happen with anything? Whatever is currently planned might wind up on the scrap heap of history. But as of right now, I’m calling it. That’s what I think is likely to happen in Scream VII, Theory A and Theory B.

Then again…A+B=C? In most Scream movies, after all, there have been two killers…

Geek Punditry #36: On a Gridiron Far, Far Away

blakemp Geek Punditry , , , ,

I haven’t listened to the radio in years. I know this is no longer a novel position. Most people in this digital age ignore the radio in favor of populating their own playlists on Spotify, Pandora, Amazon Music, Heimdall’s Jockstrap, or whatever app is en vogue at the moment. But even before the rise of such services, podcasts had long since become my entertainment of choice while driving. One such podcast I discovered years ago helped turn me on to “podiobooks” (audiobooks delivered in podcast form, in case you couldn’t decode the term), and that in turn directed me to the new pantheon of writers that were riding the wave that came at the time that medium was burgeoning: people like Mur Lafferty and J.C. Hutchins and, most pertinent to our discussion today, the Future Dark Overlord himself, Scott Sigler.

Clearly the creation of an evil genius.

So as not to bury the lede, the reason I’m writing about Sigler this week is because a new podcast series is launching that presents his most popular series of stories starting over from the beginning. So right now I want you to open your chosen podcasting app (yes, that includes Spotify) and subscribe to “Scott Sigler’s Galactic Football League Series.” Then, while the first three episodes are downloading, I’m going to tell you why this series is awesome and you should be giving Sigler your attention.

Sigler, as you could probably guess from the inclusion of the word “Galactic,” is a science fiction writer. He has developed a complex and fascinating universe with intriguing characters, wild and bizarre alien species, and a degree of worldbuilding that could make Tolkien and Rowling take notice. Sigler has laid out thousands of years of history (both before and after the present day) that he feeds his audience a little bit at a time. The individual novels or series stand on their own, but when read together you get a rich and textured science fiction tapestry that plays out over 2000 years.

Let’s start with the Galactic Football League stories, since that’s what the podcast is going to cover. The stories in the GFL era take place about 700 years in the future, in a universe where humanity has spread out to the stars, encountered several sentient species of alien, and bifurcated into many different worlds and governments. Football – American-style football, also known as “Gridiron” – has been adopted as a sort of de facto peacekeeping event in a galaxy in turmoil. Football, you see, is no longer played only by humans, but by the massive and powerful Ki, the swift and agile Sklorno, and the brutal Quyth, among others. By forcing these different races to work together on the field, conflicts between them have been mitigated, even as most of them are under the rule of an alien empire of small, batlike creatures that rule through sheer force of numbers. The story focuses on Quentin Barnes, a young quarterback raised in the xenophobic Purist Nation, who has to learn how to cooperate with these bizarre alien species if he wants to achieve his goal of winning a Galaxy Bowl. 

So right off the bat, the GFL series has aliens and sports, which are both a lot of fun. But that’s not all. In the time of the GFL, Gridiron Football has largely come under the control of massive organized crime syndicates, with teams owned by actual criminals, illegal substances smuggled on the team transport ships, and players doubling as strongarm enforcers for their leaders. That’s right: it’s also a gangster series. (In fact, that’s the title of the sixth book: The Gangster.) And as the story goes on, although football never leaves, it becomes increasingly clear that the story is about more than just football, that Quentin is more than just a quarterback, and that the stakes they’re really playing for are much, much higher than a championship ring. Sigler has developed an intricate and fully fleshed-out universe that is completely engrossing on multiple levels. 

One of the most impressive things about it, for me, is the degree of work he has put into crafting his various alien species. There are none of the “rubber forehead” aliens that we see in Star Trek or most TV and movie sci-fi franchises, a fact that’s made easier because these are novels and Sigler doesn’t have to worry about budgetary concerns. Every alien species in Sigler’s universe is imagined from the ground-up with their biology, life cycle, and culture carefully crafted, many of them in ways very unlike what we’re used to. The species that is most like humans, the Quyth, are really only like us in that they are bipedal and experience a similar emotional range. Unlike humans, the Quyth have a biological caste system that divides the species, which is covered in either fur or chitin depending on which caste they belong to. They also have a pair of dexterous pedipalp arms protruding under their head and their one massive eye, which changes color to indicate their mood. Quyth leaders gain their dominance by castrating their siblings while still in the womb. Quyth females are never seen by outsiders at all. This is the CLOSEST alien species to humanity in this universe, and it’s a species that in real life would be virtually unthinkable, except perhaps in southern California.  

See? Just like us.

But I digress – the GFL is probably Sigler’s most popular work amongst his fans. It’s certainly the era that is discussed the most and for which we are most eager to see new installments. But it’s not the ONLY era. 200 years before the GFL comes The Crypt, a military drama about a crew assigned to a ship with the reputation of being a deathtrap for anybody who is put on the duty roster – usually as a sentence for some crime. Then there are the modern stories, such as Ancestor, Earthcore, and the Infected trilogy. While the GFL stories are suitable for young readers, these other books are (even) more violent and brutal, and definitely not intended for kids. They are, however, part of the same universe, something that becomes clear in the second Infected book when the characters are given a glimpse of an alien race that is terrifying to them, but that readers of Sigler’s other work will quickly recognize as a familiar species in the GFL era. And then he does it again with the Generations trilogy, a series set a millennia after the GFL about a group of teenagers who wake up on a distant spacecraft with no memories of their past. I don’t want to get too spoilery, but I will reveal that eventually the series, again, starts to share familiar species with the reader.

Rated TV-KSD: Not approved for people with Kitchen Scissors or the city of Detroit.

The point I’m getting at is that Sigler has a universe that is complete, complex, intricate, and really entertaining, and is so in various time periods, which is a trick that very few writers have managed to pull off. So I respect and admire Sigler for that as much as I am a fan of the writing itself.

But that’s not all. There are lots of writers whose work I admire and respect. What sets Sigler apart, why I’m writing about him today, is the way he has masterfully crafted a community around himself. From the early days when he branded himself the Future Dark Overlord of the world to the way he has cultivated relationships with the many “Sigler Junkies” that populate the internet, I am in awe of the way he’s built out his fan base. Sure, there are highly devoted fans of Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Twilight, and plenty of other book series, but most of those have been built over many years or were done with the help of a major publishing empire or movie studio to enhance the brand. Sigler has done it without those things. Oh, he’s had some mainstream success: he’s published books through Crown, hit the New York Times list, and he’s even contributed licensed novels and short stories to the Alien and Predator franchises…but for the most part, his community and his fervent, devoted fanbase was cultivated by himself and his small support staff. 

You know you’ve arrived when there’s a Geiger monster holding a bloody helmet on your resume.

When I look at what he’s done and how effectively he’s done it, I know that Scott Sigler is who I want to be when I grow up. He’s the reason I did audiobook versions of Other People’s Heroes and A Long November back in the day when podcasting was still young and easy to get into if you didn’t have any resources. (Most people don’t know this, but the name “Blake” is actually from an obscure Peloponisian dialect and translates roughly to “lacks both resources and the wisdom to use them correctly.”) While the new media landscape has changed dramatically since the days when he was starting, and I don’t know if his techniques could work today, that doesn’t matter. It already worked for him, and he’s allowed to enjoy the fruits of his incredible amount of hard work and talent.

Plus, in every interaction I’ve had with the guy online, he’s seemed to be a really cool and stand-up dude. 

So I’m saying all this to give back to him just a little bit for the hours of audio entertainment he’s provided me over the years. If anything I’ve said sounds interesting to you – if you’re into sci-fi or sports, if you’re looking for your next audiobook, if you’ve got a middle-grade kid in your life that you’re trying to get into reading, check out the GFL saga. The first three episodes dropped this week, and there literally years worth of content coming down the line. Hopefully enough that the podcast won’t wrap up before the FDO finishes writing the series.

Don’t worry. I’ve got faith that he’s not going to George R.R. Martin us. If there’s one thing that I believe is true about Scott Sigler, it’s that he doesn’t know how to stop working.

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. Hopefully, before you get too far into the GFL series, you’ll understand why Blake is constantly looking at some fool doing something foolish and muttering, “This kid needs a Ma Tweedy in his life.” 

Geek Punditry #35: Cracking Open the Mailbag

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Here at the Geek Punditry Global Media Hub and Frozen Yogurt Emporium, we do our best to keep on the cutting edge of popular culture. We check in on all the websites. We read the “Tweets” and the “X”s. We “Insta” and we “Thread.” We do not TikTok, however, because although we do have several incurable neuroses, narcissism is not one of them.

And as such, occasionally we find ourselves being asked questions by you, the faithful reader, about some of the elements of pop culture that are flickering across the internet as we speak. So this week, we’re going to crack open our bulging folder of email and address some of the questions that you’ve had for us lately.

Dear Geek Punditry,
I’ve recently subscribed to the Marvel and DC Comics apps so I can get down and read a whole bunch of comic books, and I was wondering where to start. There’s so much stuff on there and I’m not sure what I should read first.
Overwhelmed in Omaha

Overwhelmed,

You’ve certainly come to the right place. While the sheer amount of content on these two apps can be intimidating, if you figure out how to filter through it and find the things you like, the services are worthwhile. For example, if you’ve got the DC Ultra level, you can access all of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman and Bill Willingham’s Fables. The recently-released first issue of Mark Waid and Bryan Hitch’s Superman: The Last Days of Lex Luthor is there, and it is excellent. I’ve been using the app myself to catch up on those Knight Terrors miniseries that fall into books I don’t usually buy and therefore aren’t getting physically, and I’ve enjoyed several of them as well. And of course, no visit to the DC app would be complete without reading DC Challenge and Captain Carrot and His Amazing Zoo Crew.

As for the Marvel app, when I first started using it my goal was to figure out what’s going on with the X-Men in the age of Krakoa. I started reading those books when Jonathan Hickman took over, then gave up because there were simply too many of them to keep up with. I saw the app as an opportunity to read the entire line all in one place without spending a fortune, and I’m happy to report that having all of the installments of the various X-Men related titles available in one place has in absolutely no way made it easier to keep up with them or, for that matter, even really understand what the hell is going on. I’d also recommend Chip Zdarsky’s Daredevil, which I’ve mentioned before, Gail Simone’s Variants, and for old-school fun, check out Peter Porker, the Spectacular Spider-Ham.

When the hell is THIS crossover going to happen?

Geek Punditry,

I’m a teacher, and earlier today one of my students saw the display of Superman stuff I keep in my classroom and he called it “lame.” How do I let him know that he, in fact, is the lame one, and also a stupid-head, without getting called in to the Principal’s office again?

Educational in Erie.

EE,

Ah, the “Superman is lame” argument. I’ve heard it many times. “He’s too powerful, he’s too perfect, he’s too basic.” Indeed.

First of all, I wish I could talk to the person who decided that “basic” is a pejorative. “Basic” means simple or uncomplicated, and frankly, there are a lot of days where I think it would be great if the whole damned world was more basic.

That said, the concept of Superman may be basic, but the characterization certainly is not. What you have, when you boil Superman down to his essence, is a man with the power to do virtually anything but who chooses to use that power to do good. I think people reject that concept because they can’t conceive of anybody behaving that way in real life, but that’s what makes the character so compelling to me. What kind of person, with the ability to conquer the world, would rather use it to get kittens out of trees? Of course, that’s only a small part of his job description – he also averts natural disasters, saves people from fires, thwarts supervillains, flummoxes corrupt super genius scientists/businessmen, and saves the world seven times before breakfast…and he does it because he can. Because it would be inconceivable to him to do otherwise. 

I’m not saying that there haven’t been bad Superman stories in the past (written in the past few years, beginning shortly after Action Comics #1000, theoretically speaking), but when Superman is good, there’s nothing better. Great Superman stories take this concept of an incredibly powerful alien and blend it with just a hint of the Pinocchio syndrome: he wants to be human. And like the best Pinocchios, he wants it so badly that he winds up becoming more human than anybody. Superman is a character who believes in Good – not the lowercase adjective good, but a proper noun Good that is a tangible force in the universe. He believes that most people carry it within them, and his job is to bring it out. He believes the best of everyone, he cares about everyone. In a recent story by Phillip Kennedy Johnson (Action Comics #1053) he was asked by someone why he would bother to save the life of one of his enemies. His answer was the most Superman response I’ve ever heard: if someone who has done wrong dies, they will never have an opportunity to become better.

When you don’t believe in yourself, remember that this guy would.

THIS is the Superman I love. The one who first identified himself, when asked who he was by Lois Lane, as “a friend.” The one who will never give up on people. The one whose faith in the inherent decency of humanity is both his greatest weakness and his greatest strength. If you can’t tell a great story with Superman the fault lies not with the character, but with the writer. 

Also, I like the trunks on the outside.

Hailing Frequencies Open,

In the past, you have extensively discussed your love for various iterations of Star Trek in this column. I was wondering if you would be willing to rank the various series for us, from your favorite to least favorite.

Andorian Andy

Andoriandrew,

I really hate ranking things, you know. I feel like it creates a sort of unnecessary drama, an unnatural division amongst people who, at their core, should have more in common with each other than differences. The only reason I can think of for producing a ranked list of one’s totally subjective preferences is to have something to argue about, and I don’t want to do that. I love Star Trek in all its forms, and for many different reasons.

Nearly 60 years of awesome. And also that episode of Voyager where they turned into salamanders.

The Original Series created a rich, vibrant science fiction universe that has captured the imaginations of generations, and The Animated Series began to expand upon that world, allowing writers to do wilder things that the budget of a live action TV series at the time would not have allowed. Next Generation resurrected that universe, giving us some of the greatest and most beloved characters in the entire franchise (such as Data, that other great Pinocchio of the modern day). Deep Space Nine was the first series to attempt an extended story arc, and has some of the deepest and most profound stories and character arcs in the entirety of Trek. Voyager compounded the memorable characters and took an opportunity to explore different settings. Enterprise was a step back that showed us the roots of the universe that we loved so much. The Kelvin timeline films are a fun, fresh look at something that was remarkably familiar. Lower Decks shows us that there is room for both lighthearted fare and serious science fiction in the same story. The final season of Picard is a brilliant conclusion to the stories of many of our favorite characters. Strange New Worlds recontextualizes the original series and gives new life and energy to something that we thought we knew all there was to know about. Prodigy is a series that introduces kids to the core thesis and heart that makes the Star Trek universe what it is in an exciting and engaging way. And Discovery has Tig Notaro sometimes. 

Dear Constant Reader,

You’ve spoken before about your love for the works of Stephen King. With his newest novel, Holly, hitting the stands, I was wondering if you have any thoughts or feelings about the Holly Gibney character in her previous appearances or any hopes or expectations for this new story.

Roland from 1919 19th Street, Co-Op City

R19,

I am, in fact, an avowed reader of the works of Stephen King. I’ve been a fan of his since high school and I have devoured a great many of his books. As for Holly Gibney, however, I’m afraid I actually haven’t read any of the books with her in it yet. Holly first appeared in King’s 2014 novel Mr. Mercedes, you see, and 2014 also happened to be the year I got married. That’s a busy time in a person’s life, as you may have heard, and in that time I fell a bit behind on reading pretty much anything. Then just as things were starting to settle down, my wife and I had a kid, and if the transition of getting married makes you busy, the transition of becoming a parent is like having a tornado drop into the middle of your living room and steal all your books. So the truth is, I’m way behind on reading not just Stephen King, but pretty much every other author whose work I enjoy.

The good news, as I’ve mentioned before, is that my son is a bit older now and I’m finding it a bit more possible to pick up a book and read again, so I’m slowly getting back into the game. I’ve actually made several lists of authors and series that I want to get into or back into, and I’ve been chipping away at them a little at a time. The Stephen King novels I haven’t read yet are all on those lists, and I have every intention of getting to them eventually. The funny thing is that, of all of his books that I haven’t read, only three of them were published prior to 2014…and I don’t know that I’m going to get around to Pet Sematary anytime soon. As a dad, it might just be too much for me.

Guess which one of these I’m probably going to read first.

Blake,

Is it true that you just couldn’t think of any topic to write about this week that was worth devoting an entire column to, and thus resurrected this contrived mailbag format as a way to work in a variety of different topics that wouldn’t support an extended discussion? And if so, when did it occur to you that the “mailbag,” while a classic trope, is hopelessly outdated and it would be better served to structure future such columns in the form of social media interaction?

Curious in Cambodia

Dear Curious,

Shut up, that’s why. 

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. What’s odd is that, although he hates ranking things, he enjoys making lists. Isn’t that bizarre? 

Geek Punditry #34: Is it Spooky Season Yet?

blakemp Geek Punditry , , ,

Scientists have determined scientifically, using specific scientific methods and scientific instruments, that August is longer than all other months combined. School is back in session, it’s 127 degrees outside, and frankly, nobody is having a good time. So once this teacher’s summer break ends and he goes back to work, I am fully prepared to embrace the next thing on the horizon that I have to look forward to: Halloween. 

Some people will say that it’s too soon to get excited about Halloween. Some people will say that summer isn’t over yet. Some people will complain about holidays creeping earlier and earlier in the year. To these people, I have one word: “Boo.” I mean, if you’re the sort who actually enjoys summer (like some kind of a weirdo), okay. Enjoy it as long as you can, and I do not begrudge you. But for everyone else, you’re just gatekeeping, and gatekeeping is dumb. There aren’t enough good things in the world for us to put up arbitrary barriers designating when and how something is allowed to be enjoyed, and if you want to put up your Halloween decorations tomorrow, there is no reason not to. (Unless you’ve got a Home Owner’s Association that forbids it, of course, but HOAs are basically just organized gatekeeping, and gatekeeping is dumb.) 

“I said it’s October ENOUGH, Mabel!”

Now don’t misunderstand me – I’m not putting on a costume and watching Garfield’s Halloween Adventure yet. SOME things in my household DO wait for October. But this is the time of year where I start allowing bonus creepy content into my viewing habits: 80s slasher films, ghost stories, monster movies…beginning in August, the percentage of my viewing time occupied by these types of things slowly begins to increase until, by October 1st, it’s basically All Creepy All the Time. The wonderful thing about Halloween in this regard is that the gatekeepers tend to step back a little bit. It’s not like Christmas, where people will arm themselves with gingerbread swords and go to battle over what does and does not constitute a Christmas movie (even though the criteria are pretty simple, as I outlined a few years ago). For Spooky Season, there is no requirement that a movie or TV show be set on or around Halloween – it merely has to have a modicum of creepy content and people will accept it as seasonally appropriate. 

And that’s a good thing, too, because there actually aren’t a ton of great movies set on Halloween itself. Sure, you’ve got your John Carpenter’s Halloween and your Hocus Pocus and a few others, but for every one of those you’ve got a TERRIBLE movie set at Halloween, such as Halloween Ends and Hocus Pocus 2. If you limit yourself to only viewing movies set in October during your viewing, even if you wait until October 1st to begin, you’ll run out of quality content long before the big day. And thus we, the Halloween Lovers of America (or HLA, for short) have agreed to accept virtually anything with monsters, ghosts, goblins, or gore as acceptable viewing during the Spooky Season. 

“You see, there’s good Halloween and then there’s bad Halloween…”

In fact, many of the most iconic Halloween costumes come from stories that have nothing to do with Halloween itself. Take the Ghostbusters, for example. It seems almost unthinkable to go through the Halloween season without seeing somebody strapping on a Proton Pack or shouting “I ain’t ‘fraid of no ghosts,” but none of the Ghostbusters movies take place anywhere near Halloween. Ghostbusters II, in fact, reaches its climax on New Year’s Eve! (Yes, before you ask, it does count as a New Year’s Eve movie.) But because the franchise itself is centered around ghosts and the people who – y’know – bust them, they have become integral figures in the Halloween canon.

The same goes for most movie monsters. The Universal Monsters are my favorite. I love the movies, I love the style, I love the decor. But I can’t think of a single Universal Monster film that actually takes place on Halloween. The closest thing I can recall is the masquerade ball in Abbott and Costello meet Frankenstein, and even THAT isn’t specifically noted as being a Halloween party. (I’m sure somebody will inform me of any exceptions that have escaped my mind.) Despite this, the most common versions of Dracula and the Frankenstein monster you’ll see are the ones based on Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi, and they’re everywhere. Likewise, the 80s slasher icons are similarly ubiquitous at this time of year, but of them only Michael Myers is Halloween-specific. That doesn’t stop anybody from dressing up like Jason Voorhees or Freddy Krueger, though, nor should it. Last year my wife and I dressed as Freddy and Jason, respectively, to have a little slasher family to go with our son, who chose a Chucky costume. Nobody complained, although I’m not sure my grandmother realized what, exactly, Eddie was supposed to be when she called him adorable. 

The family who slays together…

So when it comes to choosing Halloweenish movies, all of those are perfectly acceptable fare, but why stop there? What about Kaiju? Giant monsters like Godzilla, Gamera, and King Kong are not particularly Halloweenish. Am I allowed to watch those movies during this time frame? I mean…there’s nothing that stops me from watching them any day of the year (makes for a weird Easter, honestly), but when I’m compiling my requisite Letterboxd list of annual seasonal viewing, do I include them? They are monsters, after all. And we’ve all seen a guy show up at a party wearing a gorilla costume. I say that it counts. And for that matter, so does any given episode of a spooky TV show, whether you’re talking about macabre comedies (macabredies? Can I invent that word?) like The Addams Family or The Munsters or whether it’s full-on horror like Tales From the Crypt or Creepshow. It basically all boils back down to the gatekeeping thing. Nobody else is allowed to tell you what can put you in the Halloween mood or when it’s acceptable, or for that matter, no one can say you have to be in the mood if you don’t want to either. Do what makes you happy.

What makes me happy, I should point out, is the Spirit Halloween store. Every year I start itching around mid-June, looking at the abandoned storefronts in my area and wondering which ones Spirit is going to swoop in and absorb into their web this time around. 2023 may be the most abundant year yet for me. For the second year in a row they’ve set up shop in a strip that’s often on my way home from work (it depends on whether or not it’s my turn to pick up my son from school). But there’s a second one that my wife has to drive past on her way to and from work – and as if that weren’t enough, the third Spirit Halloween in our area is set up in the vacant Bed Bath and Beyond immediately next to my wife’s place of employment. It’s almost as if the Spirits of Spirit knew it had been a rough year and wanted to do just a little something to make us happy.

The mothership calling me home.

If Spirit was open year-round I would be thrilled, honestly. Granted, there are certain things that wouldn’t be year-round sellers (nobody really needs a screaming pumpkin in February), but I also live near the city of New Orleans, and there’s much more of a call for costume pieces and decorations here 365 days a year than there is in, for example, Bloomington, Indiana. I’ve also often petitioned them to pivot when November begins and turn into “The Spirit of Christmas,” which would at least give me an additional two months of seasonal retail therapy, but so far they’re just ignoring my Tweets. 

Regardless, going to Spirit is very much a thing in my family. We’ve already visited all three of the stores I mentioned before, with a fourth one not too much further away, and we’ll probably stop in at all of them again before the season is over. We told my son, who is almost six, that we’re not getting his Halloween costume until we’re a little closer to October. Six-year-olds have a tendency to grow like they’ve been injected with Pym Particles and also to change their minds 197 times a day, so it’s a bit early for us to lock him into a specific size or character. But that said, Eddie loves visiting the Spirit store. We were worried when he was younger that it may be too scary or intimidating for him, but he is his mother’s child. He loves to activate the assorted animatronics on display and make them shriek and pop up, and it’s delightful to watch because he always gets scared for approximately a half a second before giggling like mad and rushing to step on the button again…which, frankly, is the perfect reaction. This is exactly what the people who design those things WANT you to do, and unlike an adult or teenager who feels the need to pretend it doesn’t affect them, he’s still young and innocent enough to let his emotions run the way they should.

He likes the decorations and costumes as well – this year he’s asking to try on the masks, which in the past he would never do. He asks specifically to “be” the character on the label, which becomes painfully adorable as he reads the packaging and says things like, “Can I be Spidah-Man? Can I be Fwankenstein? Can I be Da Purge?” He even gave us, completely unprompted, an “It’s-a me, Mawio!” I know that, as his father, I am biased, but that moment deserves to win the Nobel Prize in Cute.

My wife and I are both nerds, and although our spheres of nerdery are not a perfect venn diagram, Halloween is a huge section of overlap. The fact that my son has come to embrace that section as well thrills me to no end. So if you’re here to tell me that August 25th is too early to sit down with him and watch Mad Monster Party and episodes of The Real Ghostbusters or to put on Renfield or Evil Dead Rises after he’s gone to sleep, I’ll tell you that you’re flat-out wrong and that you need some full-size candy bars in your life.

Now I know some readers turned away from this week’s column as soon as they realized I was talking about Halloween so early, so I know they’re not reading this. If you made it this far, I assume you love and are ready for the Spooky Season as much as I am. So to you, my friends, my fellow Cryptkeepers and Svengooligans, I say this: have a great couple of months, binge yourself silly on creepy content, and let your freak flag – quite literally, in many cases – fly high and proud. 

I’m calling it. Our time starts NOW.

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. He really hopes his son sticks with his current plan of being Mario for Halloween and doesn’t switch to Spider-Man, because he likes to dress up with the kid and he’d make a better Luigi than a Mary Jane. 

Geek Punditry #33: You Joke Because You Love

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Last week was the season finale of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, so when Thursday rolled around and I didn’t have a new installment of my favorite franchise waiting for me, I was not unlike that meme where the guy sits on a swing and pines away for something, probably football season. It was kind of pathetic to watch, actually. Just ask my wife.

“I wonder if Captain Pike’s hair misses me, too.”

But that sadness was mitigated by the fact that in just a few short weeks, on Sept. 7, the new season of Star Trek: Lower Decks is dropping. There was a time when Star Trek went off the air and we had no idea how long it would be before it returned to television (that time was called 2005 and the answer turned out to be 12 years, by the way), but in this day and age we’ve got more to work with. There’s been a semi-regular flow of Star Trek since Discovery first hit screens six years ago, and some of it has been magnificent: Prodigy, Strange New Worlds, season three of Picard…but the truth is, of all the “NuTrek” shows, none of them have made me as consistently joyful as Lower Decks.

Boldly going to season four.

A lot of fans were dismissive when Lower Decks was announced. An animated Star Trek? A comedy? A comedy produced by someone who worked on Rick and Morty? If you’re the kind of Trekkie who wants the show to lean more on the dramatic side, it kind of sounded like a recipe for disaster. But every Trek series has had plenty of lighthearted moments, and even the occasional full-blown comedic episode (unless you’re trying to tell me we were supposed to take “Spock’s Brain” seriously), so I was happy to give it a chance.

I couldn’t be more satisfied with the results. I went in expecting to see a parody of Star Trek, but the truth is that isn’t really what Lower Decks is. It’s funny, absolutely. The characters are hilarious and the performances by the main cast are magnificent. But it’s not the comedy alone that makes Lower Decks work – what really makes it land is the fact that if you take away the jokes, you’re still left with plots that would work solidly on a more mainstream science fiction series. The season 2 finale is a great example: when a more “important” ship than the USS Cerritos is endangered on a first contact mission, our crew has to step up and save the day. Ultimately, they discover the only way to traverse a dangerous asteroid field is to strip off the outer hull of their ship and pilot through manually. (Trust me, it makes sense in context.) The scenes of the crew coming together to dismantle their own vessel and then maneuver through the field are as tense and action-packed as Trek at its best, and still funny to boot.

Many fans were won over by the first season. Not everyone, of course. There are still some who argue that Lower Decks lacks in actual comedy, and is just a rapid-fire recitation of references to other Trek series. While it’s true that the show is very reference-heavy, to say that this is the only source of comedy is untrue and reductive. So much of what makes it funny it comes from the characters, and it is the characters that make the show worth watching. The references are fun, however, and I think it’s the references that prove something that I sincerely believe to be true: the best parodies are made by people who honestly and sincerely love the thing they’re making fun of. 

Mike McMahan, the creator and showrunner of Lower Decks, was a writer on several animated shows, but he came onto the radar of the Trek producers via – of all things – a Twitter account in which he posted synopses for episodes of a fictional eighth season of Star Trek: The Next Generation. The account became a hit and he eventually rolled that into writing an officially-licensed book. Warped: An Engaging Guide to the Never-Aired 8th Season was a hilarious look at what might have been but, more importantly, the writing showed that McMahan truly understood the show, the characters, and their universe, and that was what he built the comedy on. When he got the chance to do the same with Lower Decks, it was as engaging and funny as anyone could have hoped for. 

It should be noted that McMahan wasn’t the first writer to do that with Star Trek. By my count, he was at least the fourth. There are two previous projects that also take loving jabs at Trek while still working as science fiction in their own right. David Howard and Robert Gordon’s script for Galaxy Quest transports a bunch of Trek-esque actors into a Trek-stye adventure, and Seth MacFarlane’s The Orville started out as a comedic take on Trek tropes and quickly evolved into a sci-fi series as deep and powerful as Trek at its best, albeit with a few more jokes. In both cases, these were projects envisioned by creators who had a deep love of the franchise and wanted to pay tribute to it in their own way. 

“No, it’s not a Star Trek knock-off. Because our captain wears blue and our doctor wears green, that’s why.”

This is the thing that needs to be understood: something can be a great comedy and still be a great example of the kind of story that’s being told. It’s always frustrated me how the Academy Awards typically ignores comedy in most of the major categories, as if it is somehow less artful than drama. It’s only slightly better with awards shows like the Golden Globes or the Emmys, which separate comedies into their own category, with a subtle implication that they don’t deserve to compete against the “real” movies. There’s a sort of snobbish attitude that thinks of comedy as “lower” art. That’s ridiculous, of course. Comedy has existed since the birth of drama. Shakespeare’s tragedies may get more play in schools, but I’ll argue that Much Ado About Nothing is a vastly superior play to Romeo and Juliet any day of the week. And as far as the acting part goes, giving a great comedic performance is a skill set that not everyone has. All acting is about building and releasing tension, but the demands of comedy require you to land the release in a way that often far more difficult than drama. Think about how many great comedic performers have gone on to give great dramatic performances. Off the top of my head there was Jim Carrey in Man on the Moon, Robin Williams in Dead Poet’s Society, and Carol Burnett put forth a fantastic performance in the final season of Better Call Saul. Speaking of which, the “Gilliamverse” duo of Bob Odenkirk in Saul and Bryan Cranston in Breaking Bad pretty much embody this concept. On the converse, how many actors who became known as great dramatists then went on to give fantastic comedic performances? I’m sure the list exists, but the flip side is much more extensive. Go ahead, tell me Orson Welles’s best-known comedic performance. I’ll wait. 

You picked this one, right?

Great comedies are often great examples of the stories that they are supposedly parodying. Two of the most formative movies of my childhood, two of the movies that are probably responsible for shaping my sense of storytelling into what it is today, fall into this category. Ghostbusters began with Dan Aykroyd’s personal desire to tell a story about the paranormal. Although the script evolved and changed considerably from his original vision by the time it was on the screen, it was a fantastic story with some genuinely creepy moments buoyed up by some of the greatest comedic performances ever put to screen. The next year, Bob Gale and Robert Zemeckis gave us Back to the Future, a movie that’s effective as a science fiction film, but even more impressive as a relationship comedy about teenagers in love and a son rediscovering his parents. These movies are classics and are pretty much universally recognized as such. (Heck, as of this writing, Back to the Future still sits atop my personal “Perfect Movies” poll and has done so for over a year.)

Nor is this only true in film and television. Look at Douglas Adams The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and its assorted sequels. Begun as a radio drama before becoming part of the modern literary canon, Adams uses science fiction and humor hand-in-hand to satirize any number of targets. Terry Pratchett did the same thing with the fantasy genre in his Discworld novels – parodies of fantasy tropes, to be certain, but at the same time marvelous examples of a fully-realized fantasy world that had a lot of interesting things to say about the actual world we all live in most of the time. 

Recently I found a new member for this club of parodies that also perfectly encapsulate the thing that they’re parodying: the Hulu series Only Murders in the Building. I mentioned this show a few weeks ago when discussing shows I haven’t watched yet that I would try to get through during the (still ongoing) writer’s and actor’s strikes in Hollywood. Since then, I’ve made it through the first two seasons and begun the third, and I’m frankly angry at myself for not having watched it before. If you’re unfamiliar, the show stars Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Selena Gomez as neighbors in an enormous Manhattan apartment building. Initially strangers to one another, they bond over their mutual love of a true crime podcast. When a murder takes place in their own building, they decide to launch a podcast of their own while they try to solve it.

“That Petit guy is talking about us again. Get the murder.”

The show is a deft send-up of podcasts like Serial, with Tina Fey appearing in several episodes as an obvious stand-in for Serial’s host, Sarah Koenig. While gently mocking the format, it also occasionally says some serious things about the nature of an audience that draws entertainment from the death and suffering of real people (which, let’s face it, is what we all do when we “enjoy” the true crime genre). There are dark moments as well, as the pasts of each character are slowly opened up and revealed to the viewer throughout the course of the investigation. What’s more, the show isn’t afraid to get experimental, as we see in the format-breaking episode seven, which tells the story in a way few shows would have the guts to do. It’s also not afraid to tug at the heartstrings, as we see in season two when several episodes revolve around the concept of fatherhood and what it means, which is something that cuts into me personally pretty deeply.

In the midst of all this, though, there are two things that absolutely have to be said:

  1. The show is outrageously funny.
  2. Each season so far has been a fantastically-structured mystery in its own right.

In their mocking of the true crime culture, show creators Steve Martin and John Hoffman have managed to make one of the most engaging TV mysteries I’ve ever watched, laying out clues, unraveling threads, and sending us chasing after red herrings with the aplomb of Arthur Conan Doyle or Alfred Hitchcock. Even if it wasn’t funny, it would still be a good mystery, and that’s what really matters in regards to my grander point.

Good comedy is damned hard to do, and it deserves respect. And when that comedy lands, it’s not just funny, it’s transformative. It’s not fair to say Only Murders is a great mystery “for a comedy,” to call Lower Decks a good Trek show “for a comedy,” to say that Terry Pratchett’s Discworld novels are solid fantasy “for a comedy.” They just are. They’re great examples of their genres that also happen to be comedies.

When we can get everybody to wrap their brains around the premise, maybe the people who make us laugh will finally be able to get their due.

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. Hey, he hasn’t used Star Trek as a main topic in this column for six weeks now, he deserved this one.

Geek Punditry #32: We All Need a Little Mayhem

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If you’re at all surprised to learn that I’m a fan of the Muppets, I can only assume that you haven’t paid the slightest attention to anything I’ve ever written or said or performed or eaten in the entire expanse of the universe, because the Muppets are straight-up delightful. They’re a magical creation. Jim Henson and company willed into existence a troupe of actors of such wild, chaotic, and lovely clashing personalities that virtually any kind of story can and has been told with them over the years. All of that makes it even more sad how, since the Muppets were purchased by the Walt Disney Corporation and Shadow Government and Tire Emporium back in 2004, they have consistently shown an inability to use these characters properly. 

🎶”Look for us! Where’d we go? Disney did us wrong…”🎶

That’s not to say there haven’t been high points. In 2011 we got The Muppets, a new film in which Kermit and the crew were brought back together after an unspecified time apart to save their home, the Muppet Theater. The movie was funny, clever, and full of fantastic music, which is pretty much all you want from the Muppets. It was a great film, and it felt like Kermit the Frog and Company were back on track.

But the train derailed quickly. In 2014 we got Muppets Most Wanted, a sequel that failed to capture the magic of the previous film. The next year the gang returned to television in a new series (also just called The Muppets) which was an Office-style mockumentary series starring our favorite felt-covered friends. The show was weak at first, and although it improved quite a bit over the course of its season, it was too little too late, and the second season was never ordered. Since then appearances of the Muppets have been sparse: a few web shorts, some appearances in commercials, and a Disney+ Halloween special, Muppets Haunted Mansion, which wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t great either. What was going on? Why was it so damned hard for Disney to figure out what to do with these characters?

The Muppets are an incredibly versatile troupe. They’re musical comedians, sure, but that’s not all they are. Each of the main Muppets has spent decades being refined and shaped, given a life and a personality that belies their existence as scraps of cloth and foam rubber. They have become iconic figures, as well-known and recognizable in pop culture as Mickey Mouse and Bugs Bunny, but nobody was doing anything worthwhile with the characters…until earlier this year, that is. A few months ago, Disney+ dropped Muppets Mayhem, a brilliant miniseries that gave the Muppets a showcase they’ve been sorely lacking for years and, moreso, it gives us a blueprint for what Disney should do with these characters moving forward.

The greatest rockumentary ever made.

Muppets Mayhem is the first Muppets production in which the spotlight is shined not on Kermit, Piggy, Fozzie, or Gonzo, but on the Muppet Show’s house band, Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. Although those characters have been around just as long as the rest of the crew, they’ve never really been developed much beyond some stereotypes: Dr. Teeth was a parody of Louisiana musical legend Dr. John, Janice was a cliched hippie chick, Zoot was that zoned-out musician who probably got his hands on a few too many family unfriendly-substances back in the day, Lips was the guy who mumbles, Floyd Pepper was the closest thing this group had to a straight man, and Animal was…well…Animal. Muppets Mayhem starts here, but it goes so much further than that. 

In this show, an aspiring record executive (played by Lilly Singh) finds out that the Mayhem owes her struggling company an album and sets out to spur them to get in the recording studio and make good on their contract. This kicks off a ten-episode quest of discovery for both Lilly’s Nora character and each member of the band itself. Over the course of the series every one of the Mayhem gets a chance to shine, is given unexpected backstory, and is developed into a character as rich and meaningful as the A-list Muppets we’ve been following for years.

So why, after being hit and miss for so long, did Disney knock it out of the park with Muppets Mayhem? For the answer to that, I think we need to look back at their last solid success, The Muppets. That film was written by Jason Segal and Nichollas Stoller, who spent years pitching on it and working on the script, even pulling in help from the Pixar storytelling brain trust (which, in these halcyon days before The Good Dinosaur, had never failed at making a successful film). The story these two conceived took the Muppets back to their roots, to the Muppet Theater, where they had to band together and put on a smash hit show to raise the money to save their home. It’s such an overdone premise, but it’s absolutely perfect for the Muppets, because of who and what the Muppets actually are.

No, not that. Well, not JUST that.

Jim Henson created and recreated his characters over and over again over a span of over twenty years before the characters gelled into their final form in 1976 with The Muppet Show. The premise, if you’re one of the two people on the planet who’ve never seen it, was that Kermit and his friends were old-fashioned Vaudeville-style performers, putting on a nightly show with the help of some celebrity guest stars. Although earnest and sincere, most of the Muppets brought chaos in their wake, and it was up to Kermit to try to keep it all together. Most of the great Muppet productions since then have run with that premise in one of two ways. Either it’s a story about the Muppets and their performing troupe (such as The Muppet Movie and The Muppets Take Manhattan), or it is a story being told by the “actors” in the Muppet troupe (which explains the meta-humor in The Great Muppet Caper and in most of their adaptations of other stories, such as The Muppet Christmas Carol and The Muppets’ Wizard of Oz). The further we get from that formula, the weaker the Muppets get. 

Segal and Stoller understood that. What’s more, they showed a true reverence for the characters that was clear in every word of dialogue and every note of music. After nailing it with one film, though, Segal stepped aside for Muppets Most Wanted…which promptly fell apart since it was about Kermit’s evil twin and a crime caper. It’s not that a crime caper doesn’t work with the Muppets (see the aforementioned Great Muppet Caper), it’s that the attitude behind the movie was essentially, “Well, we don’t quite know what to do next, so let’s try to do The Great Muppet Caper again.”

“Muppets Most Wanted is my favorite Muppet movie!”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s the LAST one!”
(Old man laughing)

The Muppets floundered again until Muppets Mayhem, which was co-created and produced by Adam F. Goldberg. Goldberg is probably best known as the creator of the sitcom based on his own family and upbringing in the 1980s, The Goldbergs, a show which at its best took a loving and reverential eye to the pop culture of Goldberg’s childhood and used it to tell stories of an often dysfunctional but ultimately loving family, and if that isn’t exactly the primary qualification for anybody trying to tell a story about the Muppets I don’t know what is. Goldberg, like Segal, lived his formative years at a time when the Muppets were at their peak, and brought the obvious love for the characters into what he did in Muppets Mayhem by expanding on their world, not denigrating it.

This is the secret, Disney, and any other company out there sitting on a classic IP and trying to figure out what to do with it. Admittedly, it can be difficult to decide what to do with older characters when the goal is to introduce them to a new audience. A lot of kids these days would reject anything that their parents pushed on them as a reflex action. And sure, times have changed – a modern child who watches The Muppet Show will have no context for the vaudevillian background of the characters.

But the thing is, neither did we. Those of us who grew up with the Muppets in that first go-around (Goldberg, Segal, myself – you know, the first three names you would think of) didn’t have any exposure to Vaudeville. We didn’t care. It was as irrelevant to us at the time as the fact that Bugs Bunny was doing impressions of Clark Gable and Peter Lorre. We didn’t know and we didn’t care. We didn’t know that Fred Flintstone was a total knock-off of Ralph Kramden, and guess what? We didn’t care. Because these classic characters are still entertaining even divorced from their original context.

So throwing out the context argument, what we’re left with is figuring out what it is people love about the characters even with the context gone. With the Muppets, there are two essential elements: the performing element and the family element. Every great Muppet production has served one or the other. Most of them have served both, but most Disney Muppet projects have lacked that. A Muppets Christmas: Letters to Santa and Muppets Haunted Mansion both told stories with the performing bit in the background at best. Letters to Santa showed a team of Muppets banding together, but it was in service of a new character that we’d never seen before (or since) and only were supposed to care about because Gonzo cares about her. Not that that’s a bad reason, but in a one-hour special, it’s not really enough. Haunted Mansion, on the other hand, showcases Gonzo and Rizzo invited to a “fear challenge” at the – well hell, I don’t have to explain where it happened. The closest thing to a family storyline here is when we discover Gonzo’s greatest fear is losing his friends, which again is perplexing, since there’s nothing in decades of Muppets lore that would indicate this is a sticking point for him.

Sure, it’s filled with the restless spirits of the dead, but they DO give out full-size candy bars.

Too many studios try to reboot a classic franchise by stripping it down to the name only and making it “edgy” or “controversial.” The prevailing attitude seems to be that they can’t win the kids, so instead they’ll go for the crowd who enjoys things “ironically” by mocking fans who had the audacity to care about the characters in the first place. (The thesis of Geek Punditry is to explore those things we love, so I won’t get too much into the shows and movies that have committed this sort of cinematic crime, but I will say that the most recent offender was Very Egregiously Lascivious and Mostly Abhorrent.) I simply don’t understand the mindset that says the way to make an old concept profitable is to attack the people who loved it in the first place, and yet we see that happen again and again.

That’s why Muppets Mayhem was so delightful, so charming, and so wonderfully surprising. It was a story about a group of performers who are, in fact, family. It was about bringing new people into that family. It didn’t just have great music, it was about great music. It made us take a look at characters we already loved and, in the process, come to love them even more. And when it went meta – and boy, did it go meta – it never did so at the expense of the people who have watched and loved them for nearly 50 years. 

Shockingly, they were good just because they were…GOOD.

There has not been any announcement about a second season of Mayhem either way – neither confirming it or saying that it won’t be moving forward. Streaming services like Disney+ are notoriously secretive with their numbers, but the show hasn’t been yanked off as a tax write-off yet, so it can’t be doing that badly. If there is no more, well, the ten-episode run is perfectly self-contained and ends in a very satisfying way. But I hope it doesn’t. I hope we see more of the Mayhem, more of Nora and Moog, and more unexpected and hilarious celebrity guest stars in a second season. Even if we don’t, though, I’m happy that we got what we did, and when Disney sits down once again to decide where to go with the characters in the Muppet studio, I hope they take a look at what they just did and realize that we all need a little mayhem once in a while.

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. “Which Muppet are you?” was the question long before Sex and the City fans tried to co-opt the concept, you know. Which Muppet are you? Blake is usually a Fozzie. 

Geek Punditry #31: Cross-Evolution

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The DC Universe is asleep right now.

This is not a commentary on the state of their cinematic universe. I’m talking about the good ol’ comic book DCU, which is in the second half of their two-month Knight Terrors event. A new villain calling himself Insomnia wants to get his hands on the Nightmare Stone, a powerful artifact that used to belong to the Justice League’s old enemy Dr. Destiny. Insomnia believes that Doc Dee has hidden the stone inside the dreams of somebody in the DCU, so he’s made everyone on Earth fall asleep, allowing him to search for it. It’s been an interesting story, diving into the dreams of DC’s greatest heroes and villains and getting a taste of their worst fears. (You should see what the Joker is afraid of.) Most importantly, though, Knight Terrors is the latest iteration of that thing that we comic book nerds both adore and fear: the crossover event.

The real Knight Terrors are the friends we made along the way.

Most comic historians will agree that the “shared universe” conceit, in which most or all of the characters published by the same company are said to co-exist, can be traced back to 1940 and the first appearance of the Justice Society of America in All-Star Comics #3. In the early days, the JSA was little more than a framing device, in which the heroes would gather around a table and tell each other tales of their exploits, but eventually the stories would evolve to the point where they were having adventures together. Guest appearances in each other’s books became common, more teams were formed, and eventually both Marvel and DC Comics had sprawling worlds of interconnected characters. In a way, it’s baffling that it took 42 years for the next logical step in storytelling to happen: mashing everybody in the universe into a single story. That story was 1982’s Contest of Champions, a three-issue miniseries in which the Marvel Comics all-stars were abducted by a couple of the Elders of the Universe and forced to battle each other. It was a completely self-contained story that didn’t touch on any other book, but it was considered a precursor for the next step: the 12-issue Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars in 1984. This time, we saw many of the Marvel heroes – in their own titles – encounter a mysterious device that whisked them away to parts unknown. They returned in the next issue after an absence of some weeks, many of them with changes. The maxiseries told the story of what happened to them in-between those two points.

“Okay, guys, let’s show ’em how it’s done.”

DC got into the game in 1985 with Crisis on Infinite Earths, and that’s when things really got wild. Contest of Champions and Secret Wars were both relatively self-contained stories. Although Secret Wars had repercussions for the regular series of the assorted characters (Spider-Man’s black costume, which would eventually become Venom; She-Hulk leaving the Avengers for the Fantastic Four; etc.) the story itself stayed in those 12 issues. In Crisis on Infinite Earths, for the first time, the story spilled out into the other comics being published by DC. While the heroes of the multiverse struggled to keep it together in the main series, most of the other books published by the company had side-stories that showed how the stars of that title were dealing with the collapse of reality. Green Lantern dealt with the destruction of an entire sector of space, DC Comics Presents booted Superman to an alternate reality where he met a young version of himself, and in Wonder Woman’s title she joined with the gods of Olympus to protect her home.  

Since then, the crossover has evolved again and again, with different forms that each have their own pros and cons. In some cases, a story in a single title or family of titles grew big enough that it only made sense to show the effects on other books. In Marvel’s Inferno (1989), the X-Men family of comics told the story of a demonic invasion of New York, and since most of Marvel’s heroes lived in New York it only made sense to show how Spider-Man, the Avengers, and the Fantastic Four were dealing with it as well. Later that same year we got Acts of Vengeance, a story wherein Loki plotted to destroy the Avengers by manipulating the Marvel Universe’s villains into attacking different heroes than those they usually fought. Yeah, I’m not entirely sure how that was supposed to work either, but it was a fun story: Spider-Man dealt with the X-Men’s enemy Magneto, while Daredevil’s foe Typhoid Mary set her sights on the Power Pack, and so forth. These kinds of crossovers work out fairly well, as it’s easy for readers to ignore any titles they don’t want to read. On the other hand, if they aren’t reading the core titles in which the story is taking place, they may be confused as to what is going on.

However, from a company standpoint, there’s one major problem with crossovers like that: there’s no extra books being sold. So the next level of crossover has a main miniseries, with stories touching on the heroes across the DCU. After the original Crisis, DC made this an almost-annual format for many years, with the likes of Legends, Millennium, Invasion!, Final Night, Genesis, and Underworld Unleashed all following suit. Marvel did it several times as well, with Secret Wars II, Infinity Gauntlet, and its assorted sequels. This is the kind of crossover I grew up with, and in many ways it’s still my favorite. The fact that it touches on the ongoing comics gives the story weight and makes it feel like it “matters” more than if the book is totally self-contained, and for the most part, you still only have to read the main title and any crossovers that you want, pushing aside those that you don’t.

There were…a LOT of these.

Later crossovers like Civil War and Fear Itself would expand on this concept: the main miniseries, crossovers into the ongoing books, and assorted miniseries and one-shots that spin off of the main book. This expands the story and allows the storytellers to touch on more elements of the event, and of course, it gives the publisher more books they can potentially sell. Publishers love that. Sometimes they love it so much that they’ll do a spinoff miniseries even if the characters involved currently have an ongoing. There are 97 X-Men titles at any given time, so was it strictly necessary to do a three-issue World War Hulk: X-Men miniseries instead of just putting the story in one of those? I say thee nay.

Then there’s the tier that we’re seeing more often these days, in which the crossover doesn’t touch the ongoing titles at all, but only features spinoffs and one-shots. There are, I think, two reasons this happens.

1: Money. 

2: Writers. 

I don’t think the first point needs much of an explanation, but let me tell you what I mean by the second one. The comic book industry has become increasingly writer-focused over the years, and while in many ways that’s a good thing, that does come with a degree of compartmentalization. Whereas in the past, editors would call up the writer of New Warriors and tell him to link his book to Infinity War whether he wanted to or not, today there’s more of a reluctance to disrupt the ongoing story. Al Ewing’s fantastic Immortal Hulk series was an excellent horror story that is perfect for binge-reading now that it’s over. But if you’re reading that story in a collected edition years later, it would be somewhat disconcerting to suddenly stop to deal with an invasion of symbiotes spilling over from the Spider-Man comics. So instead, there were Immortal Hulk one-shot specials when the title dealt with the events of the Absolute Carnage and King in Black crossovers, and the main book went unmolested.

The solution.

The benefit of this is that the crossover doesn’t impact the story when you’re reading it in a vacuum. There are two cons that come to mind, though. First, if a crossover is entirely self-contained, it’s easy to ignore it and decide it’s inconsequential to the meta-story of the shared universe as a whole. Second, it has a tendency to cause the main story to spill out into the spinoffs in a way that doesn’t happen as often with the other kinds of crossovers. Grant Morrison’s Final Crisis was a bit of a mindbender to begin with, but the ending is COMPLETELY out of the blue if you didn’t choose to read the Final Crisis: Superman Beyond two-issue miniseries that accompanied it.

A story like Knight Terrors is a relatively new variant on this format. The crossover is told entirely through crossover miniseries, but those miniseries are replacing the ongoing comics for the duration of the event. Instead of following June’s Nightwing #105 with July’s Nightwing #106, July and August give us Knight Terrors: Nightwing #1 and #2, with #106 saved for September. This is, by my count, the third time DC has done this, the previous times being Convergence in 2015 and Future State in 2021. It’s nice, in that it doesn’t disrupt the main book at all, but it also has a habit of making the event itself feel rather inconsequential. (Future State in particular has largely faded into irrelevance in the DCU.) 

Up until now, I’ve really only talked about format. I’m not making value judgments on any of these stories: there are both good and bad examples of every kind of crossover. What matters, I think, is what exactly you’re trying to accomplish with the story. Are you “just” telling a big story? Well, the first format I discussed is probably the right one. We mostly see that now with smaller crossovers, things like the Sinestro Corps War that only impacted the Green Lantern books (plus one issue of Blue Beetle). But even those “smaller” crossovers are starting to go the route of having one-shots or miniseries spinoffs: the upcoming Gotham War storyline will feature in the Batman and Catwoman ongoing titles but also have a few one-shots and a miniseries focusing on Jason Todd. 

Sometimes publishers label books as part of a crossover no matter how inconsequential they are, and that can irritate readers. People who picked up the Crisis on Infinite Earths issues of Swamp Thing were rightly irritated that the only connection seemed to be the skies turning red. Even when the book is objectively entertaining, it’s a bit frustrating. Geoff Johns and the late George Perez did a magnificent job on Final Crisis: Legion of Three Worlds (I would even argue that, to date, it was the LAST great Legion of Super-Heroes story), but pretending it had great significance to the Final Crisis storyline was something of a stretch. 

“Guys, when we said ‘Stop, you got it right,’ we didn’t mean that LITERALLY.”

Sometimes these crossovers are intended to reset things: DC has done that with Flashpoint and Dark Crisis on Infinite Earths, which led to the New 52 and Dawn of DC reboots, respectively. Sometimes these are intended not to re-set, but to set things up in the first place. That’s what the nascent Valiant Comics did in 1991 with Unity. When their universe was still young they tied together their six existing titles (four of which were less than a year old), launched two new titles, and introduced new characters and concepts that in turn would develop into more titles in the next year. It was a huge success and Valiant was the hot ticket, becoming so successful that only a few years later Acclaim bought the company and promptly ran it into the ground.

“Get ready, guys, it’s all downhill from here.”

People like to complain about “event fatigue” in comics the same way that many of them complain about “superhero fatigue” in movies, but the fact that people keep buying these books seems to indicate that they aren’t that exhausted. And as always, quality matters. People rarely complain about “too many comics” if they actually like the stories that they’re reading – it’s only when following a story gets to be a chore that they go to the internet and gripe. I don’t think crossovers are going anywhere, and honestly, I don’t really want them to. So I guess the important thing when planning them out, publishers, is to think really hard before you get into these storylines, and ask your doctor (Strange, not Doom) what kind of crossover is right for you. 

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. He knows that there are a LOT of crossover events he didn’t mention in this column, so before you reply with, “Hey, you forgot XYZ,” know that he didn’t. He just didn’t have room to make this comprehensive. Cut him some slack.  

Geek Punditry #30: Summer Reading

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Summer reading. The phrase calls up different memories, different emotions, depending on how old you are. If you’re my age (or you’ve seen the memes), it may bring you back to those halcyon days when you were tracking each book you read in the pursuit of a free personal pan pizza. Depending on what school you went to, it may cause you to recall those last few hours before a new school year began, binging A Tree Grows in Brooklyn or Of Mice and Men, even though you had two months with virtually no responsibilities in which to get it done. For a lot of people, it brings to mind the beach or the pool, where you set up on a towel or a chair and pull out a romance novel, a potboiler mystery, a spy thriller, or whatever it is that you connect to. Whatever the specifics of your personal relationship with books, it seems very curious to me that people have settled on the summer as the time to read.

Of course, if you’re just trying to SOUND smart, this sucker is available on Amazon and can tell you everything you need to know.

And we can blame teachers and Pizza Hut all we want, but there’s something that makes us all reach for that to-be-read pile during the summer months. Any book lover will tell you that we add to that pile constantly, most of us have stacks and shelves (or files bursting with digital downloads) of books that we know we have no hope of finishing in our lifetime, barring one of those Twilight Zone scenarios and minus the poor eyesight. That doesn’t stop us from piling new books on, of course, as we constantly tell ourselves and our partners that we need to be grateful it’s books and not, for example, meth. As that pile gets bigger and bigger, summertime is the only time where it seems to dip a little (or at least grow more slowly). 

Me on June 1.

This is even true for those of us who, through a terrible confluence of biology and neurochemistry, happen to love both books and our own children. In my entire life, there has never been a single event that slowed down my reading more than the birth of my son. And he’s worth it, of course. I love him to death, and I make sure to tell him that every time I look at the 17 books Stephen King has published since his last haircut that I haven’t gotten around to consuming yet.

The good news, parents, is that kids get older, and eventually they do reach a point that makes it a little easier to start reading again, and this summer seems to have finally gotten my family to that sweet spot. Of course, we did need a little help. Our local public library, as they always do, has issued a “summer reading challenge” to its patrons, both children and adults. There are prizes (no pizza, sadly), and of course, bragging rights, and the weird thing is that having this carrot dangling in front of us has really worked for my family.

Not quite as well as this, of course.

The St. Charles Parish Public Library is affiliated with a reading app called “Beanstack,” which allows you to track your reading time, track books you’ve read, even track the number of pages read (although I personally have not taken advantage of this feature, as most of the books I read these days are eBooks, and tracking the pages isn’t always easy). You can write reviews as well, and share your reading with others. You earn points and badges. I got a free umbrella. It’s kind of goofy that a grown ass adult (or whatever I am) would need to treat reading books like accumulating a high score on a video game, but by God, it worked.

My summer ends next week, when the teachers at my school report back for a few days of professional development in advance of the avalanche of students the week after, but when it comes to reading, I’ve really taken advantage of this summer. Since school let out in May, I’ve recorded 80 different reading sessions, 20 different books, and a whopping 2578 minutes of reading time, most of that at night before bed, because knowing I don’t have to wake up at 5 am makes me feel a little more free to stay up late with a book like I did when I was a kid. My wife – who is not a teacher and thus does not have the summer away from work – hasn’t quite matched my numbers, but she’s also found herself reading more thanks to the use of the app. There’s something oddly communal about the experience, knowing that other people in the system are reading as well, trying to stack up their numbers, and having fun doing it.

Um…just ignore that second stat.

The communal aspect, I think, is one of the things that makes it work. I can see how many reading minutes everybody signed up for the Library system has accumulated over the summer (currently hovering at about 2.1 million, which means some of you people have been slacking), and there’s something about knowing that other people are reaching for the same goal as you are at the same time that makes it a little bit easier and a little bit more exciting. It’s the same reason people share their steps from a Fitbit, the same reason so many of us jump into NaNoWriMo every November. You’re aiming for a goal that you always have on some level. It’s easier to go after that goal when you know you’re not doing it alone.

Those 20 books that I’ve dug into, by the way, are also in pursuit of various smaller goals. Most of them are in series or by authors I enjoy, but that I’ve never gotten around to finishing. I’ve started a re-read of all of L. Frank Baum’s Oz novels (in case you were wondering why I wrote about that back at the beginning of summer) with the intention of continuing on and reading the other books in the “Famous Forty” that weren’t written by him, most of which I’ve never read before. I’ve read a few Star Trek novels. I’ve read books in George R.R. Martin’s Wild Cards series and Hugh Howey’s Silo saga. I’ve even tackled two of those Stephen King books that I hadn’t gotten around to yet. He wrote four more in the time that it took me, but baby steps. 

If you can think of a better way to spend the summer, I’d love to hear what it is.

The only problem I’ve got with Beanstack is that I don’t think you can add friends from outside your own library system, so I don’t know that all of you fine folks out there could link up with me there – although if anybody knows of a similar app that’s not geographically-locked, by all means let me know. And while you’re at it, let me know how your own summer reading has gone. What have you read on the beach, what books have finally escaped your-to-read pile, and do you too feel like you read more when the heat is on?

Blake M. Petit is a writer, teacher, and dad from Ama, Louisiana. His current writing project is the superhero adventure series Other People’s Heroes: Little Stars, a new episode of which is available every Wednesday on Amazon’s Kindle Vella platform. Blake is also considering doing a total read-through of Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson universe, but that dang Stephen King keeps adding other books he need to get to first.