The Trouble with Lana

I have a bit of a confession to make, and I feel a bit weird, almost guilty saying this: I kind of like Lana Del Rey. Kind of. I've felt this way for a while now, and despite my normal sense of comfort with my own tastes, I have made an actual effort to keep this fact hidden. I only listen to her when I'm alone, I feign ignorance when she's mentioned in conversation, the very few people I've admitted this to I've sworn to secrecy. For the first time, possibly ever, I have felt a certain amount of embarrassment for liking something. This feeling is new to me.

You can probably tell.

But the fact of the matter is, I can't help it. I like her music, whether I mean to or not, and the sooner I come to grips with this fact the better it will be in the long run. However, that doesn't mean I don't have a few problems with how she does things. After all, the reason I'm embarrassed is because I actually recognize why so many other people dislike her. With all the hate coming her way, I totally get where it's coming from. So what is the problem?

In a nutshell, it's her image. Everything wrong with her career just sort of revolves around her image, but it's not so much what that image is, it's that it's so central to her.

No, really, I just listen to her for the songs.  I swear.

Think about it; despite the fact that she's got a song about how she's on the radio now, I have not actually heard her on the radio. The first most people heard of her is what they saw at the same time in her music video to Video Games. And what they saw was exceedingly obvious hipster bait. From the get go of her career, she was attempting to attract a key demographic through means other than her music. And by the beginning of her career, I'm talking about the album she released, then rescinded, under the name Lizzy Grant. It was available briefly before she bought the rights back, and she has refused to re-release it since. While there's probably a good reason or two out there to explain a move like this, the most obvious possibility is that she was giving hipsters an opportunity to do what they do best: brag about being into something before anyone else. It's just that it's so obvious she was doing it. Throw in her (often sung about) time spent living in a trailer park (after she signed a recording contract for $10,000) and the fact that she's a little white girl from New York going by an artificially exotic name, and you've got all the markings of a singer trying to influence her way into a position of fame and adoration.

But she made a couple major mistakes. One, she estimated her intended audience wrong. She's relied on her image way, way too much, and while it's true that musicians make careers out of good looks or image alone all the time (see American Idol, seasons 1 through 11) it doesn't work quite so well when you want to be taken seriously as a musician. Lana wants to be loved and respected as an artist, and image based careers only work to this degree on pop music audiences. I mean, pop audiences adore Katy Perry and Justin Bieber enough to go to movies about them, they're not overly concerned with quality. She tried to illicit that same level of devotion starting with a core audience of underground music snobs and spread out from there, but she was so obvious about it that even hipsters recognized they were being manipulated. So they turned on her.

Her other problem is in her sexiness. Currently, audiences are completely fine with strong women who are comfortable in their own sexuality (Pink!), which can be empowering, and with women who use their sexuality in a way to attract a male audience (Katy Perry) and exert some level of control over them, which can be a kind of empowerment. Audiences are even fine with whatever Nicki Minaj counts as, and while not necessarily empowering, that certain counts as some kind of kind of self confidence. Lana Del Rey's approach to using her sex appeal consists of a creepily subservient “I exist only for your pleasure” image that I can't quite tell if it's for real or not. On the one hand, I'm not convinced it isn't just a satirical look at the image, on the other hand, she awkwardly flaunts it in ways that prevent me from being convinced that it is.

You see, this. This? This is exactly what I'm talking about.

She might be trying to show how dull and lifeless women are when seen as mere sex objects, or she might just be a sex object who's not all that into it. It's hard to tell. She makes it hard to tell.

Lastly, there's her SNL performance. Yeah, it was just really bad. There's not some greater issue with her persona or business tactics here, it's just that it really was bad. Like, probably not “worst ever” bad, but maybe within the bottom 25.

And all of this is a shame, because beneath the awkward sexuality, the fake name, the obvious manipulation, and the focus on her image and persona over her music, there is a talented musician with good music to perform. I don't care if some of her lyrics seem disingenuous; I only care if she feels the need to make us think they are genuine because then she'd be missing the point. I don't care if she wants to change names or labels; I only care if it starts to affect the availability of her music or if that music is sacrificed for (or worse, created as) a publicity stunt. I don't care if she isn't as good live; as long as what she puts to recording is listenable and good, I'll be listening and good.

Stop in the Name of Love

You might or might not know this about me, but I love words. There are few things I find so delightful as a well turned phrase, and there are fewer tools I find so empowering as a language equipped to make those phrases happen. The key to all language is the ability to convey information, and the more information that can be conveyed with a single word, the better. Why spend three adjectives describing a noun when you can use a single noun that conveys the same meaning of all its qualifiers? This is why I love the English language, because it has so many synonyms that all mean various shades of what might otherwise be the same concept. There's a silent hierarchy in terms of size relations when it comes to all the words that essentially mean big (big, large, huge, gigantic); there are a multitude of ways to describe someone as a nerd, yet so many of them have small but key differences (nerd, geek, dork); even down to the minutest separations of color, you can bet there are different words for slightly different hues. I prefer language and diction that allows this level of differentiation, and while I know there are languages larger and potentially better than English, English has been good to me in this regard. I will love and cherish it as one of my most prized possessions, but even so, I feel the need to bring to your attention one particularly grievous, glaring fault.

Love.

Have you noticed this? I sure have. You want to say you're attached to your significant other in a deep, profound, and romantic way? You say you love them. You want to convey how much you appreciate the emotional depth of the latest Batman movie? You say you love it. You want to tell a good buddy that the strictly platonic relationship the two of you share is an asset you will cherish forever? You say you love them. You want to express to your mother just how good her chicken fried steak is? You guessed it, you tell her you love it.

Starting to see the problem here? The word that in English is simply “love” covers a wide range of emotions, all of them in the realm of a deep, personal attachment to someone or something, but all of them with a different connotation. Yet the same word describes them all.

What other forms exactly might be problematic? For comparison, the Greek language utilized four major words (and possibly others) that in English are all translated into “love”: agape, perhaps the most famous version to English speakers, was a strictly platonic form of love, with interpersonal implications, including (but not limited to) parents, children, siblings, close friends, or even spouses. To use it in a sentence, one could say that Alfred the Butler possesses an agape form of love for his surrogate son, Batman. Eros, the other most famous nowadays, was close to the opposite, carrying a connotation of sensuality. While not necessarily sexual, it was a form of devoted love that was stronger than simple friendship; while it could be said that Catwoman loves Batman in this sense, you could also argue that Batman himself loves Gotham, the city he has sworn to protect, in a similar way. Philia, was the form of love that described the love between friends, though it was stretched to include love for your neighbor or other community members, or even the love of activities. You might want to say that you like something, more than straight up love it when trying to translate philia, but it typically is a stronger feeling than how you might use like. Batman, for instance, philia loves his fellow Justice League members, and he definitely philia loves fighting crime, while he may not quite enjoy the company of the Outsiders the same way, or enjoy fixing the engine on the Batmobile. Lastly, there was storge, which could directly be translated affection, but specifically referred to a natural affection, one you just kind of have by the nature of a specific relationship. It might even indicate an affection you have, despite having to put up with copious amounts of crap, in the same way Southerner's use the expression, “God bless 'em” after describing something that annoys them about their spouse. Batman storges Jason Todd, for instance, as opposed to the agape he feels for Dick Grayson.

These are just the different words that the Greek language has, which while obviously a step up from English in this regard, by no means covers all there is to say. There is, for instance, a distinction between sexual love and romantic love, no matter how much overlap there might be between those two. As close as friends or siblings might be, there is typically a difference between familial and close friendships, to the point that one can interchange the two if the situation calls for it, referring to a blood relation as moreso just a friend, or saying a particularly close friend is as close as a brother. There's even a form of love that denotes a religious devotion. The forms and types are nearly endless, and yet English lumps them all into the same batch. This obviously can lead to some confusion, albeit a decent amount of it intentional, but confusion none the less. Ever hear someone say “Well, son, if you love Batman so much, why don't you marry him?” Of course you have, because at some point in your life, you have definitely been so enraptured with your favorite superhero that you made the mistake of saying in a conversation with your father that you loved Batman. The response will always be the same to that; a simple joke that hasn't been funny since roughly 64 years before it was first uttered. But more importantly, it's a joke that relies on the confusion between “love” in the enjoyment sense and “love” in the erotic sense.

This level of confusion, especially of using the erotic sense of love in any situation where the word is used, happens constantly nowadays, either as a joke or in a full out misapplication of someone's usage of the term. Heard of a bromance?

You have now.

A bromance is a word that has been added to the Meriam-Webster English Dictionary, thus sullying a formerly noble collection with yet another portmanteau to feature the disgusting moniker of “bro”. More importantly, it refers to a deep affection between two men, one which is in actuality completely platonic, but it utilizes a word that typically has an erotic love connotation. The application could be two guys (who are comfortable with their sexuality) jokingly talking about their bromance; other guys (who are less comfortable with their sexuality) mockingly using bromance as a put down; or advice sites attempting to get page views by scaring women into worrying about the time their significant other spendswith their best male friend (and losing all comfort with their own sexuality). Why is it that the word bromance has suddenly popped up everywhere now, of all times in history? It's a little bit to blame because our modern society uses supposedly clever portmanteaus like they're going out of style (they are), but it's also a lot to blame because of our language's limitations when it comes to describing love. Words tend to have one major meaning, and populations as a whole tend to latch on to one meaning for a word, often thinking only of the currently most popular definition at any given usage, regardless of the context. Right now in our day and age, we've been so sold on the importance of romantic, erotic love, that it's the first and foremost definition for the word in mind. As this obsession with loving someone has taken hold, it's also wormed its way into all other forms of love, so that now we're starting to think of loving a good friend closer and closer to how we love a significant other. Now that we have the capacity for only one type of love, yet cannot describe our feelings of affection for something in any other way, that definition is subconsciously becoming a part of our other relationships. Bromance is one of these effects, as is Man Crush. A sense of admiration for a figure, a band leader, an actor, or a sports player has become linked with a sexual infatuation with them. And I suspect that this all has to do with our language's limited number of words for love, and our decision to make sexual love our primary definition.

Think about other effects, like actions that are connected with declarations of love. Hugging, kissing, holding hands, sleeping in the same bed; these are all things that Americans identify with romantic love, and therefore are only comfortable performing with someone who they identify (and want others to identify) as their romantic partner. In a number of Islamic and Arabic cultures, for instance, men hold hands, while men and women do not. There are obviously many factors as to why this is acceptable/not acceptable under certain circumstances, but it's important to note that various Turkish languages have a separate word for sexual love and that of other types of love, and physical contact is more often connected with these others. In Chinese, this same physical contact is associated specifically with the mother-child relationship, a type of love which, again, has its own distinct word to describe it. There's also this news article on how often people of various countries think about sex in a day; the winners? Who else but the British and the Irish, the countries that just so happen to have English as their primary language.

And, of course, the English language's limitation here even affect Batman. In a recent interview, comics writer Grant Morrison was quoted as saying, 

“Gayness is built into Batman. I’m not using gay in the pejorative sense, but Batman is very, very gay. There’s just no denying it. Obviously as a fictional character he’s intended to be heterosexual, but the basis of the whole concept is utterly gay… I think that’s why people like it. All these women fancy him and they all wear fetish clothes and jump around rooftops to get to him. He doesn’t care -- he’s more interested in hanging out with the old guy and the kid.”

“Don't worry, I'm not saying Batman is 'happy' or 'lame', I'm simply saying he's more interested in Ra's Al Ghul than Talia.”

Ignoring the fact that this was a Playboy interview, and was spoken with a certain air of sensationalism, and the fact that the viewpoint is already skewed towards the hypersexual when you realize he considers burglary gear as “fetish clothes”, it's interesting to note that the two relationships he uses to back up his claim of Batman's gayness are the ones where Batman definitely loves the other party, just, you know, not in that way. There's Alfred, the surrogate father, and Robin who is either his legally adopted son, or (in the case of the Robin that Grant Morrison himself created) his actual, biological son. Morrison didn't mention the other male relationships Batman has, like the Joker, the man he spends most of his nights obsessing over; Harvey Dent, the former best friend who had a particularly emotional falling out with Batman, and who Batman struggles with fighting as he still has feelings for him; or Superman the guy who has literally let Batman ride him before. On his back.

No. I'm not kidding.

But it's the two male relationships that could most be described as love, and are at heart the most familial of all, that Morrison uses to point and say, “Gaaaay!” Just not in the pejorative sense.

The worst part is that this whole confusion could be so easily avoided. Just have more words, ones that describe individual sections of the whole, wide range of love. We won't have any more confusion, deliberate or otherwise; we won't be accused of inappropriate (and non existent) relationships with family members; and we won't have to deal with so many tepid, repetitive arcs in sitcoms. And compared to bromance, if that isn't a better reason for adding some new entries to the dictionary I don't know what is.

Job Jitters: We Don't Need No Education

Nervously, I sat in the chair of my superior's office, waiting as he slowly read the conduct reports. Actually, I say “my superior”, but he really wasn't. My superior was the secretary (I'm sorry, administrative assistant) who worked in my same office here at the college. Her superior was the administrative assistant in the office next door, and her superior was the dean who she directly assisted. And when I say dean, he was technically just the dean of the art school, and his superior was on the school board representing the whole college, and his superior was in the Administrative Building. It was in the office of this last superior that I sat, awaiting my judgment.

“Well, Harry, I assume you know why you're here.”

“My work isn't good enough?” I ventured.

“No, no, your work is fine. You have been an excellent...” he adjusted his glasses while scanning the paper for confirmation of my title, “...administrative assistant's assistant's assistant.”

“Oh, well then have I not been getting along with my co-workers?”

“No, actually, they all seem to love you. The assistants called you a life saver, and one teacher called you brilliant.”

“Oh, then this can only be regarding... the outburst.”

“Yes, that's it. The outburst you had last Friday. You had, um, quite a lot to say, didn't you.”

“I tend to express myself creatively, sir.”

“Indeed. It says at one point you described this job as 'a huge, steaming pile of... baloney sandwiches'. Wait, why baloney sandwiches?”

“This is a pretty tame blog, sir. Families read this, children even.”

Children exclusively, I should say.

“I see. Well, what, might I ask, is the main reason for your concerns?”

“Well, this job just carries with it a whole lot of baloney sandwiches. Like, all the paperwork. I mean an insane amount of paperwork. We have books that keep saved paperwork going back as far as 2008, and that's just on the shelf. In the storage closet, we still have final grades that go back twice as far. And most of it's so useless. There was a huge stack of papers, I kid you not, 600 sheets at least, that were two days late being sent out and were suddenly useless. And I had to shred all of them, one by one, because they had private info on them. There's so much paperwork, 90% of it useless, that our file cabinet just for the empty forms that people have to fill out for any little thing looks like the closet in Zaboomafoo.”

Editor's note: Harry, I want you to make more nostalgia jokes. Internet audiences really respond to nostalgia jokes.

“Okay, well, is that all?”

“No, other problem is that nothing is ever done as it's said. So many times has someone told me to do something, explained it in length, and then when I did it, it was wrong because they expected something else. Even with my hiring, I was only here for a temp job while you looked for someone to fill the spot permanently. But now you've got her, and I'm still here. Then you said you'd reduce my hours so I'd only be coming in 3 days a week, but that never happened. Hell, first you said I'd be paid one thing, then I actually get paid less.”

“To be fair, you weren't qualified for that job title, therefore we hired you at a lower title to do the same work for less.”

“Yeah, but that's another thing that points to this job just being a frustratingly overcomplicated mess. Look at my resume. I'm qualified to do this, I've had similar enough experiences before. But when I applied, I spent an hour and a half being coached by my boss to get previous job experiences to match, word for word, to what your job posting called for. Stupid, little things, like not saying I 'checked out customers' when I was a cashier because it sounds like I was hitting on them; and saying 'experience using a mechanical adding machine' instead of saying cash register. I had to alter the minutest of details and wordings just to get this job. I spent more time carefully rewording my application, after I was already selected mind you, than I did learning what I was going to be doing, all so my bosses wouldn't get in trouble with you guys for hiring someone who wasn't qualified for the $1.00 pay difference between job titles. And the thing is, I'm not really qualified, not for this. I can input data, organize, deal with customers or technology and anything else that the job posting said, but what the posting never said, and what I've never had experience with, was this level of total BS. And because of a well meaning superior stretching my resume to fill a needlessly specific yet woefully under descriptive job requirement list, I'm suddenly in a job where I have no idea what I'm doing and am expected to do it anyway. It's like I'm living my middle school nightmares about the workforce where I ended up in a job I couldn't do and if I screwed up it would be a negative mark against future employment opportunities and also I forgot to wear pants.

The workforce, how I see it. Did I mention this blog was also created by a child?

I mean, this is supposed to be a college. Teachers are trying to actually get some stuff actually done, and students are trying to get an actual education, but it's made increasingly difficult by your ever mounting pile of pointless, stupid, inane, petty BS.”

There was silence in the office. My superior shuffled the papers, staring at them hard, and eventually let out a long sigh.

“Well, Harry, I'm sorry, but there's only so much I can do. Perhaps my... superior could address your concerns more completely.”

“Wow, that sounded... sinister...” I began, though before I could finish, he had stood from his desk, leapt to the door at the side of his office, the door I had somehow failed to notice until now, and rapped gently on its wooden frame. He was responded by a light gurgling from the other side of the door.

“Sir, I hate to disturb you, but we have another dissenter. He seems quite perturbed by the workings here. Shall we invite him in for a look at the... bigger picture?”

He must have received a nod of assent, because without further sound from the thing past the doorway, he turned and bade me enter. Against my better judgment, I slowly made my way to the door frame and peeked within, and found myself confronted with a great and colossal being that defied all reason and spat upon the notion of sanity itself. It looked upon me with ancient eyes, and all I could feel was dread; the dying warmth of the last day of summer, the bitter tears of an old friend's departure, the painful droplets of rain ruining an otherwise perfect day. There were so many details about the monstrosity that it could only truly be described as indescribable; it's face had fangs, yet also mandibles, yet also tentacles; it's limbs were hideously bulbous yet acutely lithe; its breath was sickly sweet yet nauseatingly bitter; its skin was of some tone that I was certain my eyes were not able to see and no language was able to name; it had so many countless eyes and yet when I stared deeply, uncontrollably, I could see only the one. It's craggy, eldritch visage was nothing short of Lovecraftian.

Editor's note: And internet audiences really respond to that one horror writer you don't really know much about other than that giant squid guy. Also, you don't have an editor.

It spoke with a tongue that lashed and slathered, and while its language was alien to my ears, the words echoed inside my mind with startling clarity.

“Speak, insignificant one. Voice your concerns that I may answer with mocking and laughter.”

“I... I don't understand why you make this job so difficult. It should be easy, it should just be light filing, and organizing, and occasionally answering simple questions to bewildered freshmen. Why is there so much complications to this simple job?”

“You lack the capacity to truly understand. This is a question I cannot answer in full.”

“Then answer in terms I can understand.”

“Very well. I, I and my kind, we do not subside ourselves on physical food; our forms require much more, nourishing delicacies. Frustration, panic, fear, dread. These emotions to us are the most filling bread, the sweetest wine.”

“Then, you're torturing us on purpose?”

“That is correct.”

“But why this college, why these people, why here?”

“Again you do not understand. This campus is not our only source of food. The entire world is rife with our secret presence. This college is but one of many, of thousands, of myriads of places where we exist; slowing things down, mucking things up, complicating processes and perplexing workers the whole world over, and feeding. Always feeding.”

“So here, and in other colleges?”

“Yes.”

“And in courts and legal proceedings?”

“Yes.”

“And governments?”

“And Hollywood?”

“Especially Hollywood!”

pic:

It makes so much sense!

“No!” I cried, “This can't be allowed to continue! I have the knowledge now, and that compels me to act. I can tell the others, I can make everyone see what you're truly doing to them!”

I was greeted with nothing but laughter, much of it foreign and unrecognizable, but a small part of it human. I quickly realized this part was my superior, standing in the doorway still, laughing maniacally with the beast before me.

“You foolish whelp, there is nothing you can do. No one will believe you, and even someone did, we control everything. Any investigation would be put through bureaucratic hoops until it dissolved, any party who sought to confirm this would be met with frustrations upon frustrations, until nothing was left of their curiosity except lamentations and defeat. You are powerless against us.”

“Then I'll bring them here, to look directly upon you. No bureaucracy can stand against man's resolve when it sees these horrors with its own eyes!”

“Ah,” it countered, “How can you bring others here when your clearance to these offices has been revoked!”

“Wait, what?”

“Bwa-ha ha ha ha ha!” it laughed once more, it's languished cries of mirth filling the room and beyond until the very sound of it felt as if it must shake the earth to its core.

I am fired.

Why So Serious?

Comedy gets kind of a bad rap. On the one hand, a comedy might be considered a perfectly acceptable vehicle for a goofy little idea, an energetic lead, and a lot of humorous dialogue. But everybody knows that if you want fiction that plumbs the depth of human emotion, that has heart and soul and is willing to challenge you intellectually and empathetically, you need to look under serious drama.

The general phrasing of things gives away how we feel about this. If a writer has a story or character they want the audience to really invest in, or an actor wants to be appreciated for a deeply nuanced role, they want the audience (and critics) to take them seriously. The amount of respect an entertainer receives seems irrevocably tied to how serious they take themselves and their craft. And it applies to every media: either you're Leonardo DiCaprio, or you're Jack Black; either you're Stanley Kubrick, or you're Shawn Levy; either you're Radiohead, or you're LMFAO.

And this distinction is more extreme now that it ever was before. Silent actor Charlie Chaplin was incredibly well respected for his physical comedy and was able to perfectly balance silliness with anti-Nazi social commentary. With the exception of classic Star Trek, most of television's great strides in racial equality took the form of sitcoms. Jackie Chan made a career out of films where any moment could bring either unbelievable stunts or simple slapstick. Even as late as 1997, we got The Fifth Element, one of the best action movies ever made, and it was more than willing to engage in its fair share of schtick.

Great action movie, or the greatest action movie?

The point being that drama, emotion, social commentary, or just sheer undeniable skill as a performer used to cooperate with comedy, but nowadays it feels like the only action movies with comic relief are Michael Bay pictures.

And you really have to stretch to call those “humorous” or “relieving”.

This era of distinctly separate comedy and drama had its own beginning in each of the media individually, but the thing that seemed to spur it all on in the mainstream pop culture was the Bourne Identity. Despite the fact that it shares a nearly identical plot with Jackie Chan's arguably superior Who Am I?, this humorless and baleful look at the life of a rogue, brainwashed assassin started gritty and depressing, and would only get moreso in the following two sequels. Meanwhile, Hollywood (and the rest of the medias) have been playing catchup ever since, constantly one upping each other in terms of how dismal they can make life for their protagonists.

I think partly it's just that everybody wants their creations to be taken as seriously by audiences as they the creators take it, and the only way they know how to be sure it will be is to flat out demand the audience do so. Obviously, there's some commercialist creators who took a look at the Bourne Identities, the Dark Knights, and the Hunger Games and said, “Whoa, personal tragedy is way in right now, I need to get me some of that.”

“Put the plucky sidekick back in the box, we've got some expositional families to kill.”

But a lot of these I honestly think are the result of writers who don't want their hard work to go unrecognized. Take a look at Young Justice, for instance. It's actually been pretty decent so far, a little angsty at first, but it has recently mostly overcome that. What I consider its biggest flaw, however, is that it seems to feel embarrassed about being a cartoon. It has a tightly knit continuity, in depth character development, shifting status quos and beautifully realistic animation, but these partly feel like the result of the writers constantly working too hard to get noticed; that they're constantly vigilant to always be serious, as if a little bit of levity will undermine all the hard work they've done. Half the time it feels like they're looking right at the camera and saying, “This is very serious, you guys, we demand that you recognize it as such.”

Thankfully, there are others out there who do understand the benefit of balancing comedy. More than that, there is a growing underbelly that for perhaps one of the first widespread times in mainstream fiction has taken to attempting to tell drama and emotional depth through the comedy. Previously, if an important lesson or dramatic moment happened in a comedy, it occurred in a break from the humor; very special episodes, or moments where the laughter died down and an announcement was made that wiped the smile right off your face. But recently there have been more and more stories that have been giving in depth character or plot development while they never stop being funny. Kieth Giffen and J.M. DeMatteis' Justice League International, originally started in 1987, chose to portray its superheroes comically, even goofily, because it was a way to look past the veneer of superheroes' public face and show their personalities when they could be themselves. There's been a resurgence of this team as of late, with two miniseries written by the original creative staff within the last couple years, and multiple episodes devoted to them on the recent Batman: The Brave and The Bold. Brave and the Bold, meanwhile, just finished its three season run of being able to make me laugh out loud with scenes like this:

and then make me cry with scenes like this:

often within the same episode. If the death of a character brought tears to your eyes, it was because they worked their way into your heart by being hilarious. Kieth Giffen and John Rogers made headlines a few years ago by creating Blue Beetle Jaime Reyes, one of the most prominent Mexican superheroes, but what made his comic among the best I've ever read was the level of characterization given to the entire supporting cast, all done through humor, and the fact that there were only two moments in two years where it stopped (briefly) feeling like a comedy. Scott Pilgrim, the movie and the comic, wowed critics and audiences alike with its honest portrayal of modern love and romance, which it presented through a hyperbolically comedic series of challenges to the main character. Community has quickly developed a reputation as the most heartfelt and emotionally deep sitcom currently on TV by embracing the humor as a means to further our care for these characters. These are all stories that understand that the best way to get an audience to take them seriously is to get the audience to want to take them seriously. Not everyone will when you spend more (or even equal) time joking than chin stroking, but not everyone will get into a constant stream of grim and gritty drama. Not everyone agrees with me, but I took Batman: The Brave and The Bold more seriously than I ever could take Young Justice, because instead of constantly demanding my attention, it was willing to just entertain me most of the time, and only occasionally would it ask me (politely, even) to pause, reflect, and feel something. This balance, this style is out there, and hopefully we'll get to see more of it, because frankly, it's way less tiring than than the modern grit we've become so used to. Until we see more of this, I'll be forgoing most of the big summer blockbusters, the new drama shows, and the upcoming comic book crossover events, and I'll be watching endless reruns of the show that perhaps best blends humor and drama, silliness and seriousness. I think you know who it is.

The Internet Just Wants a Hug

I've long believed that you can tell a lot about a civilization by its entertainment. When Romans loved to watch people fight to death in gladiator fights, it said something about what large percentages of that people found entertaining, and the same can be said today. When reality shows and Saw sequels make so much money that studios will not stop making them, it says something about the civilization that we live in. It says that a large enough percentage of our population loves watching dumb people and fictional torture that the people who bring us our entertainment will make sure we are never without a steady supply of new idiots to gawk at and fresh and innovative ways of killing people painfully. But if people in general really do love these things, how come Hollywood says it's struggling? If our entertainment is being made based on what people really want, why does everyone complain that there's nothing good on TV? The entertainment industry has begun to base nearly all of its production line on what's lucrative, but given the growing despondency of audiences, I'm starting to think that money making can be deceptive as to letting us know what people really want. After all, a movie can flop for stupid, stupid reasons, and the same can be said for success. Reality shows, while they certainly have their audience, are really so popular with TV execs because they're cheap to make when script writers aren't being paid. Meanwhile, John Carter, a great movie with a pretty high audience satisfaction rate, pulled in low audiences because of a terribly executed ad campaign and is considered a flop chiefly because its budget was way higher than what it made back. So what can give an accurate depiction of what people are looking for in entertainment? Hows about just straight up asking them?

This is what brings me to the internet.

You see, the internet right now can truly be said to be a cross section of humanity. Not long ago, that statement wouldn't have been accurate. The early internet was comprised mostly of brainy types, because only people who were good with computers could maintain or navigate early websites. Most of the sites that popped up at the beginning, therefore, catered towards the likes and dislikes of that demographic. This opened up a cycle that caused more nerdy people to flock to the internet, and more sites to pop up that were tailor made for nerds. Even as the internet grew and offered a little something for everyone, it first took the form of sites and forums for fans of certain things. Even when there were forums for sports teams and musicians, it still meant that most websites were essentially made for one demographic at a time.

This is basically as unreadable as Egyptian hieroglyphics.

But all this changed. Google, Myspace, Facebook, Reddit, Tumbler, DeviantArt. Sites began to show up that were made without one particular demographic in mind, and now they're the dominant type of non-commercial website on the internet. You're not required to be a nerd or a fan in order to find something worth your while on the internet; all that is required is a computer and internet access, and it will find something that is right up your alley, even if that thing is just talking to the friends you already have. And what this means is that the internet now truly can represent all of mankind (or at least the ones with wifi). And what does this mean for things that the internet latches onto? It means that if a show is big on the internet, it's big with representatives of all demographics. Seeing as how the folks that make our entertainment for us are more concerned with what's successful than what's popular, taking a look at what's the most talked about on the internet is a much better way for people like me to judge the rest of humanity based on what they fill their heads with when they're bored.

As I've begun to look into what the internet finds entertaining, the results have actually vastly improved my outlook on mankind. Want to know why? Let me begin with a specific example.

I'm a really big fan of the show Community, which as you may know (or statistically, not) is on the verge of cancellation. To be more accurate, is basically canceled already with a shortened season coming up before the end. Now, the show hasn't really had the best of times with the ratings, partially because it's been up against Big Bang Theory. Community itself is a show about a group of people in a community college, and and while it certainly has its share of nerdy references, it's moreso a show with a little bit for everybody, the kind of show that anyone with a sense of humor should find accessible. Big Bang Theory, on the other hand, is a show about outdated nerd stereotypes from 80's films, and the dialogue of every episode consists 50% of references to whatever geek fare is closest to mainstream at that particular moment.

In case you couldn't tell, I'm not really a fan.

The interesting part? Big Bang Theory is doing splendidly in the ratings (which is completely inexplicable from my point of view), while Community is doing poorly ratings wise, with the exception of its huge internet presence.

Now, my point isn't that the internet is great simply because it has vastly superior taste to the Nielson families. It's something more; it's why the internet loves Community so much, but can only give an unenthusiastic “meh” to Big Bang Theory, despite the fact that it seems like it would be (ostensibly) aimed directly at them.

Why wouldn't nerds enjoy this accurate, loving depiction of their culture?

Gawker recently asked this question, and their answer is, I think, a good reason to give the internet a second chance. Essentially, it boiled down to the way each show portrayed the relationships between the characters; Big Bang Theory just shows us some people who hang out together and plays their personal conversations for laughs; Community portrays a group of people coming together, becoming friends, and overcoming obstacles to remain friends. The point of one show is “ha, those nerdy types sure are a hoot, aren't they?”, while the point of the other is, “let's all be buddies here”.

And the internet is eating it up.

Gawker's conclusion was that the internet finds appealing entertainment that emphasizes friendship, closeness, communication, and, if you will, a sense of community. I find this suggestion very encouraging, and it got me to take a closer look at what else is popular. Stuff like My Little Pony. Have you heard of Bronies? That's the name given to the vast hordes of adult, male fans of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. It sounds horrible, mostly because any portmanteau that features the word “bro” is horrible. But when you stop to think about it, it's actually kind of sweet. I was morbidly curious when I heard how oddly popular My Little Pony was, so I watched the pilot. I'm not going to lie, I kind of loved it. The aesthetic was obviously not made with me in mind, but there was a core essence of kindness that I enjoyed thoroughly. There was an extended sequence where one by one, each of the protagonists (I can't say “each of the ponies” and still have you take this sentence seriously) individually overcomes an obstacle through some unique, positive trait and gets the group one step closer to their goal. This even included taming a furious manticore (I know, right) by removing a thorn from its paw, and I'm not afraid to say I teared up a little there.

I'm not going to continue watching My Little Pony, mostly because I simply cannot allow myself to belong to a group with “bro” in its name, and also because as much as it was my perfect idea of a fairy tale, I just can't watch a show about ponies.

Also, the dragon sidekick is pretty annoying, and gives me a serious Max from Dragon Tales vibe, which is entirely the wrong kind of nostalgia.

But just look at how much this show which is designed for young girls is bringing together fans from all sorts of demographics, just because they want to be entertained by something sweet and kind. And it's all over the place. Plenty of shows get canceled every year, but which ones get noteworthy fan campaigns to save them? How about Firefly, which features a tight knit, familial crew of a spaceship. Or Kim Possible, about a tight knit, familial trio of teenagers who fight crime (and also spend time loving their own, literal families). Or Jericho, which is about a tight knit, familial group of people trying to survive in a post apocalyptic wasteland (seriously, Wikipedia even says, “Several themes regularly addressed in the show included... community identity, the value of family, and the hardships of fatherhood”.)

What about comic books? Yeah, it's true that Batman is the most popular character right now, but if you want to know what's big on the internet, look for what the publishers refer to as “fan favorites”. Fan Favorites include Birds of Prey, an all girl superhero team that has dealt with strengthening the bonds of friendship on so many levels; the All New Atom, about the adventures of Ryan Choi and his ever loyal supporting cast; Blue Beetle, which featured the teenaged Jaime Reyes coming completely clean to his whole family and best friends about having a secret superhero identity by the third issue; even Secret Six, which got about as dark as a comic about a mercenary team of supervillains could get, but still managed to make you love the characters because of how close knit and familial they were.

The lesson here? For every Yahoo Answers trolling, there's someone talking about how the happy ending to the latest Doctor Who episode made them cry. For every YouTube comments Flame War, there's a forum hoping for a full series of Super Best Friends Forever. And for every Craigslist killer, there's about 50,000 internet users who just want a hug.

Gee, maybe humanity isn't so bad after all.

How John Carter Proves that Hollywood is Broken

Earlier this year, a new record was broken, one which will be extremely hard to break. The release of a particular movie ended the 76 years it spent in what's known as development hell, a long running period where a film is being worked on, but isn't completed or released. The film is based on a book which is this very year 100 years old, and has been influencing some of the most popular and enduring and in their own way influential movies, books, and television series for the last century. It was a long time coming, but the story that was a clear source of inspiration for Star Wars, Star Trek, Dune, Superman, Farscape, Stargate, James Bond, and the single most money making movie ever made, Avatar, finally, finally, was released as a major film.

And nobody saw it.

John Carter, the movie adaptation of the book A Princess of Mars, hugely underperformed at the box office, and I am having an incredibly hard time understanding why.

Let me get this out of the way and say that I loved it. I loved the books; I waited 6 years for the movie to get made (and watched as the project got bounced across three directors and two studios just during the time I was paying attention); I have seen the movie 6 times and I left the theater unable to wait for the sequel, which is now sure to never come. I anticipated this movie so much that I was afraid, very afraid, that when it came out I would be hugely disappointed, and I currently am, but not for the reason I was afraid of. Frankly, it's for a reason that never crossed my mind, that it didn't do well (financially), and that there won't be more of it. And again, I just can't understand why.

Now when I say I don't understand, what I mean is that I just don't get it. There's several reasons why it didn't do well, and I know objectively why they ruined this movie (again, financially). I know the reasons, and while I don't get why the movie was so plagued with them, I can tell you this: this movie's failure is a living example of why Hollywood is so screwed up right now.

Hollywood people hated it before it was even made.

Part of the interesting thing of a movie having a 76 year legacy of not being made is that you can start to see a pattern here. And one huge pattern for John Carter is that in all this time, Hollywood was never quite willing to give it a decent chance. The very first attempt to make this movie was in the form of a cartoon adaptation, co-created by the original author, Edgar Rice Burroughs (then already world famous for his other character, Tarzan), and Bob Clampett, (a successful animator best known for the creation of Porky Pig). What was set to be the first ever full length animated film was a sci-fi epic that at first interested the studios, until they showed some way early test footage to a rural town test audience that reacted unenthusiastically. The plug was quickly pulled, which might have seemed a bad idea a few years later when the sci-fi epic Flash Gordon serials gained huge popularity immediately upon release, and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (the film that would gain the title of first full length animated movie) was also hugely popular and won Academy Awards. John Carter, the project which was what both of those were before they were made, continued to wallow in development hell.

Fast forward to modern day, just before the movie came out, and there were already analysts predicting failure for this movie. The same second guessing that caused the property to miss out on the successes achieved by Snow White and Flash Gordon pervaded every iteration of this movie, until when it finally did come out, that second guessing was being printed and published for all to see, and judge the movie by, before anyone got a chance to even view it. And lo and behold when enough people in Hollywood started telling everybody that would listen, including (and especially) potential audiences that this movie was going to bomb, audiences avoided it, causing it to bomb.

And you know who was there to tell you all about it? Hollywood was. That's because...

When Hollywood decides it's right, it will never admit it was wrong.

It was decided this movie was going to bomb before it ever came out, and it was likewise agreed that it was a bomb before it was even out of the theater. Hollywood didn't give it half a chance to even generate good word of mouth after its admittedly weak opening weekend, because for every audience member trying to tell their friends, “hey, this was good, you should check it out”, there were two analysts saying “man, this movie is losing so much money it's not even funny, that probably means you shouldn't see it”. Disney waited a full two weeks from its release to announce to everybody that they lost a huge amount of money on it. It earned its own subheading on Wikipedia's page for the term “Box Office Bomb” within a month of being out. High ranking, important people at Disney are losing their jobs in shame, and the movie can still be seen in the major theaters.

We're not hearing about it's good, early critical reviews. We're not hearing about the Facebook petitions to give us a sequel. We're not hearing about how it has a higher user rating on MetaCritic than the money devouring Hunger Games. We're not hearing about how it broke the all time opening weekend record in Russia. Don't get me wrong, it's not doing well, but it's not doing as bad as is being reported. Hollywood told us all before it came out that this movie would bomb, and now that it's out, they're telling us just how bad it bombed.

Still, it's not hard to blame a lot of audiences for not going on account of they had no idea what it was about. That's because...

Hollywood has no clue what to do with a good idea.

Here's the deal. I talked up at the top about how ridiculously influential the book the movie was based on is. If you read it yourself, you can right away start picking out major things that have become more famous in other media that found their origin in this series. Some of them are huge (like almost all of the non-environmentalist parts of Avatar), and some of them are much more subtle (the word Jedi is derived from similar words in Burroughs' Martian language). But beyond just the influence of this book, think about the successes of the things influenced by it. Dune revolutionized science fiction. Superman is easily the most widely recognized superhero in the world. Star Wars can't be even mentioned without making a million dollars. Avatar made all the money, rocketing up the box office despite being three hours of blue cat people trying to save nature, all of which are things that would normally turn audiences off on their own. But what made people go see Avatar were all the other parts, parts which were taken from John Carter. Indeed, some of the most successful and memorable aspects of all of these things were the parts inspired directly by John Carter. And the movie that we got out of it, while it had some updating and “fleshing out”, was overall a very faithful adaptation, putting on the screen an incredibly accurate depiction of the world that inspired countless others.

And then the advertising crew took a look at that world, threw their hands in the air, and said, “We have no idea what to do with this.” Where a preview could have told us how old the property was, or how inspirational it has been to the things that most audiences love, or given us any real indication of what the movie was about, or even told us at some point that this movie takes place on Mars, they instead decided to be as vague about the plot and location as possible, and show us only the most fleeting, nondescript, and typical seeming footage of the action and special effects that they could find. The title of the book, A Princess of Mars, dropped the Princess so as to please all the males who just couldn't take Princess Leia seriously, and dropped the Mars to satisfy any women who still had lingering doubts about this whole sci-fi genre. In the end, they went with the name of the human character as the title, telling no one anything about the move other than that Edgar Rice Burroughs didn't show that much creativity when naming his characters (he spent all that creativity on creating whole planets and alien races and histories from thin air).

The title change is just one part of a whole different problem, namely that...

Hollywood wants to fix what's not broken.

Again, take a look at the provided (and let me assure you, only partial) list of things the original book inspired. Think of the minds that were influenced by this work, and used that influence to make themselves famous with their own stories. You don't inspire that many people and projects of that high a creative caliber and that long lasting an appeal by being a terrible story teller. And while Burroughs had his weaknesses in the character development (and occasionally naming) department, he was by no means a terrible story teller. The covers of his books describe him (quite accurately, in my opinion) as the greatest adventure writer of all time. Ray Bradbury described him as “the most influential writer, bar none, of our century”. You have to understand how much influence Burroughs as a writer had on the genre of sci-fi that was still quite young at the time of his writing, and recognize the influence that he still holds, even if a lot of audiences don't realize he's the one who originated it. Jules Verne and H.G. Welles get all the credit for creating the genre of science fiction itself, but it was Burroughs' works, primarily with the John Carter of Mars series, that really created what we know now as sci-fi. This man's pedigree in storytelling is nearly unsurpassed, to the point that he has two cities in America named after his fictional characters, and when Hollywood got a hold of his magnum opus, it still decided that they had to tweak it.

I definitely enjoyed the movie, but I have to say, it's not my new favorite movie like it was hoping (and like it would be if it was just a little more faithful). Understanding that because of the time period it was written in (and the first person narrative, which led to focusing almost entirely on one character), there was some updating that had to be done, but considering that most stories that are nearing 10 years start to show their date, needing only a little character development and maybe a little more feminine empowerment after a century is quite an impressive feat. What the work didn't need was a dead family back story. The book was the ultimate fun time thrill ride, about a dude who was just generally awesome running around on an alien planet fighting monsters to save the princess, and doing so in the most fun, creative, and genuinely engaging way possible. It was just about the last story that needed a heaping helping of tragedy, angst and general Jason Bourniness. This section of the story remained thankfully small, but it was still there, and it took up enough screen time (at the expense of the romantic development of the main characters) that it fundamentally changed the genre of the story, from Romance (set in a sci-fi adventure) to a Drama (a journey of self discovery set in a sci-fi adventure). This subplot doesn't quite mesh with the rest of the pulpy fun of the movie, and more importantly, it doesn't mesh with the ludicrously amazing movie we could have had if it had remained entirely within the tone of the book.

Why does Hollywood feel the need to shoehorn moodiness where it doesn't belong? It's simple, really...

Hollywood has killed good action movies.

You may have noticed a growing distinction between your typical summer blockbuster action movie and the more subtle, nuanced dramas often found in arthouse theaters. Compare Transformers 3 with, oh say, Blue Valentine. Now I didn't see either, so I can't really say much about the quality of the movies themselves, just that based on the previews I had absolutely no interest in either. What I can say is that Blue Valentine had phenomenal reviews, was nominated for an Academy Award, and has an 88% at Rotten Tomatoes. It didn't do badly in the box office, making a decent 12 times its own budget, so it got away with a nice profit to boot. Transformers on the other hand, has a 35% at Rotten Tomatoes, was nominated in nearly every Razzie category, and has one of the most unintentionally (or quite possibly intentionally) hilarious Wikipedia entries I've ever seen. It also made over $300 million in the US alone, and was at the time one of only 10 movies in history to make over a billion dollars, making significantly more than either of the two Transformers movies preceding it. Like it or not, this kind of money generating ability cannot be ignored by Hollywood, and obviously isn't being ignored, as there is already a Transformers 4 being worked on (reported to be, I kid you not, a reboot of the series, though still done by the same people.)

Notice a difference there? Hollywood has taken the summer tent pole action movie and decided “why bother with any kind of semblance of quality when you can simply throw random crap on the screen, and when it's huge enough, and expensive enough, and explosive enough, everyone will go see it”. And this strategy has been rewarded greatly by audiences worldwide.

And keep in mind, I didn't see, nor want to see, either of these movies. I'm honestly not one to believe a movie is good by either the awards it received or the records it broke in the box office. But Hollywood had decided that there's a distinction between the two, either it will be a low circulation indie darling, or it will be a crap goldmine. Either it's art or entertainment. And this distinction has been picked up and ran with by everyone, audiences included. The constant fight over R ratings vs. PG-13 ratings boils down to this idea, that either it's made for a larger audience and thus is a soulless cinematic turd, or it has artistic integrity and will be a much loved, if low on box office returns masterpiece. They act like these are our only two options, and huge masses of the audiences have decided to agree. They reward the crappiest of crappy with all the money in their pockets, and it seems to be tied exclusively to how much time was devoted to ridiculous special effects in the preview. I really kind of feel that Hollywood has trained audiences to behave like this, creating a Pavlovian response of great excitement when shown mediocre film with huge budgets. They've been taking psychological shortcuts in trying to entice the masses to go to movies, by making exclusively sequels and remakes of easily recognizable properties, by streamlining the budgets to accommodate the most cutting edge special effects and just enough for a passable script, and speaking as much as they can in the only global language, explosions. Audiences eat it up, because this seems to be 80% of the entertainment they give us. They've taught audiences to expect terrible dialogue and gaping plot holes if they want some decent action, and that if they want some intellectual stimulation, they need to pack up and go to the Angelika.

But there's another effect of this distinction between quality movies and entertaining movies.

Hollywood has killed fun movies.

Now it gets worse. I saw Transformers 1 and 2. Yes the second was terrible, and yes the first was only fair to middling. But even while Michael Bay was aggressively attacking my intelligence, I still managed to have a good time. The main reason was that I saw the movies with friends and family, and it did deliver on some explosive goodness and robot fights, and everybody was having a good time together. When a movie promotes a fun atmosphere for audiences to go and have a good time with friends at, it's amazing how fun the experience can be, even when the movie itself is objectively terrible. The whole group I went with to see Revenge of the Fallen had a good time, even if none of us now will admit to liking the movie itself.

But this is no excuse for anyone legitimately trying to make a good movie to scrimp on qualities outside of simply being a fun popcorn romp. When you're working on what you want to be a good script, you want to put as much distance as you can between yourself and Robots vs. Explosions: the Movie. How do you do that?

You make it less fun, is what you do. Crap movies got popular because they still managed to be fun, and somehow because of this, fun has become equated with crap. Now, if you want your movie to be taken seriously in just about any conceivable way, it can't be fun at all. To get an idea of what happens when film makers try to actually make smart action movies, just take a look at the career of Christopher Nolan. Yes, his movies are good; yes, they make a pretty good amount of money and still manage to be critically acclaimed; but have you noticed another similarity they almost all share? At least one love interest isn't making it out alive. The only movie where the main character doesn't have a dead wife or girlfriend is Insomniac, the main movie in Nolan's career I never hear anyone talking about; for all the rest, there will be a dead woman (and the grief her death causes) as a central plot point for the movie. Twice in the case of The Prestige.

This applies to any movie that wants to be taken seriously, whether they succeed at that or not. You want a spy movie that isn't just Roger Moore death quips? Tadaa, you've got Jason Bourne, his shaky camera, dead girlfriend, and everything. You want your Ray Harryhausen mythology monster movies updated for modern times? Poof, toss in a dead family and you've got yourself Clash of the Titans. You want to watch some blue cat people save their jungle planet? Well you've gotta sit through Sam Worthington watching his brother's corpse go through the crematorium first.

You want to see a noble Civil War veteran spend 2 hours saving an alien princess and fighting wicked cool Martian creatures? Well you've got some tragic backstory to wade through first. I'll readily admit, they didn't do half bad of a job creating a version of the John Carter character who had trouble letting himself become invested in a cause because the last time he had, his wife and child had been burned alive in their home. But did they have to? They opted to use the tale to tell us about much of an atrocity war is, and while that's a sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with, I also firmly believe that A Princess of Mars is the wrong place and time to be telling us that. If you wanted a story that explained just how bad conditions were in Victorian Era orphanages, you'd read Oliver Twist, not Peter Pan. But because they wanted to adapt John Carter and also make a movie that had heart, soul, and quality, the only way they could do that was to add some tragedy, and lose some fun. Enough of the rest of the movie was fun enough to actually overcome this in my opinion, but I'd have rather it just wasn't there and that they'd instead focused on the budding romance between the two lead characters.

In either case though, the movie came out, it was pretty great, even where it could have been better, and it sadly did pretty bad in the box office. This happens, and even if its failure was the fault of forces beyond its control, it just boils down to an occasional regrettable lack of audience support. It's not like this spells doom for other potentially great movies, right?

Right?!

Wrong.

Hollywood is going to take entirely the wrong lesson from this.

This movie failing means without a doubt other movies like it will not get made, and I'm not just talking about the John Carter sequels that would have been amazing. I mean any movie for a decent amount of time afterward that is in any way similar to John Carter is going to get shot down. If it takes place on Mars; if it's an action film with a love interest who's a princess; if it features a strange tribal alien supporting cast; if it's got Andrew Stanton as the director. Hollywood is going to be taking a long, hard look at any scripts coming its way and if it sees anything that can be construed as a vague similarity, they're going to be very iffy. Hollywood is likely going to be wary of all things science fiction for a while. There's likely movies that have already been canceled because John Carter failed.

This has happened before. Speed Racer came out 4 years ago. It was awesome, but it did badly for reasons I cannot begin to comprehend. Regardless of what those reasons were, Hollywood decided it was because the movie was a family friendly action flick, and made a mad rush to cancel or overhaul any projects they had that fit that description. A Captain Marvel movie was scrapped, and a Johnny Quest remake was canceled.

They do the same thing when a movie does well. When Iron Man became an unexpectedly huge hit, they tried to catch lightning in a bottle once more by recreating superficial similarities in other movies. One of the next major superhero movies to come along was Green Lantern, which featured a character who was brave, noble, and responsible, so much so that he was deemed worthy to be entrusted with an extremely powerful weapon. But because Iron Man did so well telling the story of an immature, irresponsible jerk becoming a better person, by golly, Green Lantern was going to tell the same story. Iron Man's success couldn't have been because of Robert Downy Jr.'s irascible charm or because the character's growth made complete sense in presenting a situation where he logically would reach maturity and at the same time come into a new and untold level of power which he no doubt would have misused earlier, but thankfully doesn't now on account of his own inner changes. No, it's successes were obviously because irresponsible characters combined with super powers is fun to watch, therefore it stands to reason that Green Lantern would be successful if they did the exact same thing with it. And when Green Lantern failed, they figured it couldn't be because the character's arc of being given a mega weapon and suddenly, inexplicably becoming a better, smarter, more caring person made little to no sense, or because the interpretation was painfully inaccurate to the original comics. No, Hollywood decided that it failed because any DC character who wasn't Superman or Batman wasn't going to make any money at all, and promptly responded by reiterating their stance of never making a Wonder Woman, Flash, or Justice League movie.

Hollywood has this uncanny ability to take exactly the worst lesson from a failure or success possible, partially because they refuse to see their own mistake and firmly believe that there is no factor for a movie's success or failure other than audience demand. With John Carter, they're not going to take into consideration any of the many failings they made with the movie. They're not going to reason that it failed because the name was neutered to the point of ineffectively explaining its premise, or because the advertisements were infuriatingly vague, or because they just had to add a tragic backstory where there was absolutely no call for one. They're not even going to look at the fact that it made decent money and that it's the colossal budget that made it so hard to break even. They're going to look at the lack of profit and somehow surmise that audiences don't want sci-fi action epics with likable characters.

And then they're going to order a cancellation on everything like it.

And this is why we're so screwed.