Showbits

It's summer blockbuster season, which means it's time again for a dynamic duo team-up. No, not Batman & Robin — Angela Gunn and I have joined forces to review the technology in yet another explosive film. As we did last year with Live Free or Die Hard and The Bourne Ultimatum, we now turn to the IT in Iron Man.

As submitted to Angela, my initial review was rather lengthy and leaned more to the cinematic side, so to accommodate the IT angle called for by the publication venue, some content had to be cut. But Showbits is first and foremost about films, so I present to you that missing content, with ellipses used to indicate where in the final product it would've gone:

… we know that Stark's kryptonite and our own are one and the same.

Though Iron Man ostensibly shares the same world as his Marvel cohorts, the movie is not replete with clever cameos and geeky nods to his literary origins. Nonetheless, there's enough fine detail to reward those with even a passing knowledge of the Iron Man comic. There is a tease of Iron Man's sidekick, War Machine, that I honestly didn't know which way it would go. I was surprised to find myself holding my breath the potential of a surprise superhero. (Speaking of which, be sure to stay through the end of the credits for a bonus scene!)

There's little that Iron Man does badly, though perhaps it does some things less well than it could've. Gwyneth Paltrow's character of Pepper Potts has more depth than a Bond girl but still comes across as a bit weak — more a result of the scripting than the acting, I suspect. There's also plenty of borrowing from other genre films, including Marvel's own library. The villain's origin and appearance is similar to what we'll see next month in The Incredible Hulk; we've already seen the "bring the enemy into the atmosphere until his jets cool" trick in Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer; and the hero and villain having an unmasked showdown is a staple of the Spider-Man line.

But hey, you're not here because you're a comic book geek; you're here because you're an IT geek. (There's a difference?) What makes this hero super is the technology, and there's plenty of it …

… Parts in a diagram can be rotated, separated and dragged to the trash, or worn like a glove. Très cool.

The less traditional machines in his house are more like versatile pets. With natural English speech recognition, Stark easily commands them to adjust variables, record logs, and assemble parts, though some machines exhibit personality traits that make them as annoying as helpful. It may not be flawless artificial intelligence, but they won't be threatening us with global thermonuclear war anytime soon, either.

Stark also sports a digital butler …

Read the full review at Computerworld.com »

When I previewed the summer blockbuster season, I declared Iron Man a must-see and Speed Racer a maybe-see. I've so far been right — Marvel's first of two superhero films this year was everything I'd hoped it would be, and more (with a full review to be posted here as soon as my editor is finished with it). With Speed Racer not being released until tomorrow, this other live-action adaptation remains an unknown quantity.

But more and more, I'm finding myself opening to the idea of spending 135 minutes watching a film from the same brothers who invented, and then ruined, the Matrix trilogy. What most recently nudged my opinion in a positive direction was this uninterrupted three-minute clip. It's corny, but that's okay: as with the second Fantastic Four film, it's not necessarily about having low expectations, but realistic expectations. And the more I see of Speed Racer, the better an idea I get of what to expect.

I was surprised that the plethora of Iron Man clips the studio released to the Internet did not ruin the film; despite all the previews, I went into the theater still not knowing as large a detail as the villain's identity. Given that safe philosophy, here are the three minutes of Speed Racer linked to above, along with its preceding four minutes, in the film's first seven minutes:

I read Stephen King's The Mist concurrent with its adaptation playing in theaters. I was hoping to go right from one to the next, but the movie's cinematic stay was brief, delaying me until last month's DVD release.

I am not normally a fan of Stephen King, but I was eager to see film based on its similarities to one of my favorite video game franchises, Silent Hill. I hoped The Mist would meet the expectations that the mediocre film adaptation of Silent Hill left unfulfilled. Both properties are about normal people who suddenly find their world encroached upon by another — a dark, murky dimension filled with unspeakable horrors. Indeed, the same siren terrifingly heralds hell's transition, and the scene in which a Mist monster first broaches the survivors' safe harbor almost perfectly parallels a similar introduction in the first Silent Hill game.

Actress Laurie Holden, having patrolled the streets of Silent Hill, retired from the force to teach in Maine, bringing The Mist with her.

But director Frank Darabont commented that "The story is less about the monsters outside than about the monsters inside, the people you're stuck with, your friends and neighbors breaking under the strain." The internal politics of the townspeople stranded in a grocery store enveloped in mist are certainly the film's focus. The characters in the movie are more distinct than their literary counterparts, with unique personalities and backgrounds. It's easy to understand the different reactions each has to the crisis: fear, anger, disbelief, action. It makes me wonder: how would I respond to such a threat?

One brave, stupid man walks into the mist. Guess how much of him walks out.

A store clerk posits that it was to impose order on such chaos that religion and politics were invented. Mrs. Carmody manifests that power when she founds her own cult within the store, quickly gaining disciples seeking salvation. A friend of mine interpreted this portrayal as an anti-religion subtext, but I didn't see it. Though Carmody's cult is extreme and violent, we the audience are given no reason to question the effectiveness of her methods in these desperate times. Does she offer salvation by coincidence, or, were the situation to persist, would we see her religion prove true? The answer seems clearer in the book, whereas the movie leaves the audience with more questions.

There were two more concrete elements from the book that didn't make the cut: one, Mr. Drayton and Mrs. Dumfries deal with their desperation in a rather intimate way; and two, the different experiences of the grocery store inhabitants and those of the pharmacy are explained. Given that the original Mist was a novella (halfway between a novel and a short story), the level of detail that was preserved in translating the story to film is admirable compared to similar efforts involving longer texts, so I assume these two aspects were cut by directorial mandate and not the confines of the medium. Neither thread was critical to the overall plot, but both would've offered something substantial to the film's development.

The Silent Hill game and movie came out in 1999 and 2006, respectively.
The Mist bookends them with a novella and film in 1980 and 2007.

By contrast, two other aspects were introduced. Neither the nature of the mist nor the role of the military were confirmed in the book, left to the speculation of both the characters and the audience; but in the movie, they're more substantiated. There is also a completely new ending, which I suspected would be the case, as the book's final chapter was too open-ended to offer the typical moviegoer the closure he expects. I found the the film's conclusion predictable yet disturbing — and consistent with how King treats his protagonists.

The Mist was a good film with some nice character moments, clever nuances, and unsettling effects. Having already read The Mist made for an odd experience of seeing the movie for the first time and yet knowing what's going to happen. Some scenes that were intended to be scary I instead found myself laughing at, though I admit it may've been a nervous laughter. Though the source material is always better, I'm unsure that means it should come first. By watching a movie first, I've ruined half of the more detailed book, whereas a book ruins all of a movie. A novella like The Mist may not follow those rules, but I know there will never be a perfect way to experience the same story a second time, even in a new medium.

In this, the 25th anniversary of Blade Runner, director Ridley Scott will apply his cinematic genius to a film adaptation for which we've all been longing…

… Monopoly?!

It's true: Mr. Scott is involved in bringing the Parker Bros. board game to the silver screen. But what may appear on the surface to be a stretch may in fact be justified by Hollywood's history.

I don't know that there is any longer any criteria for judging a concept's worthiness based on its origin. In the past ten years, I've enjoyed the likes of Mortal Kombat, The Brady Bunch Movie, and Superman Returns, despite being unoriginal properties. And the theatergoing masses's overwhelming approval of Disney transforming an amusement park ride into a trilogy of Johnny Depp films extends the list of acceptable inspirations. But Monopoly? I don't get it. What's the hook? What can this game license do that films like Wall Street and Boiler Room can't?

Granted, board game adaptations are not unprecedented; give Monopoly an all-star cast and a good sense a humor, and I'll admit Mr. Scott might not be clueless. But regardless of the film's quality, if the public flocks to Monopoly and makes it a success, we can be sure the clones will follow. Which begs the question: where will it all end?

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The Half-Blood Prince was the only Harry Potter book that left me looking forward to the sequel. But before I take that step forward this coming weekend, I took a step back and watched the film adaptation of the series' most boring entry, The Order of the Phoenix.

The movie's opening is fashioned after one of the novels' most lamentable traits: a complete lack of introduction or context. Anyone who is just a casual fan of the series — that is, those who read the books only once each — will have trouble recognizing Dudley Dursley or Nymphadora Tonks in the opening scenes. Indeed, many characters' roles have been reduced, Potter's love interest is of little note, and the titular Order is rarely seen or referenced.

Most disappointing than these cuts, necessary to adapt this behemoth of a book to film, is that the parts cut were the parts I liked. Ginny Weasley speaks not a single word in the entire film, whereas in the novel, she provided a helpful connection between Potter's current dilemma and the one she faced in The Chamber of Secrets. Potter's hesitancy to pursue lessons with Snape is absent, yet that motivation is vital to understand the depth of Voldemort's manipulation. And though we know the Dark Lord is seeking a weapon, but the movie never solidifies what the weapon is, or its value and implications (including to Neville Longbottom and Professor Trelawney).

The Potter films often serve as a useful refresher to anyone who hasn't memorized the source material, and in this case, I was hoping to be satisfied by the movie in a way I wasn't by the book. Though the film was well-acted and had some nifty special effects, its lack of detail — or rather, its choice of detail — left me hoping the silver screen has not overwritten my memories of the original text.

New Line Cinema, the studio that brought us the Lord of the Rings film adaptations, has released a teaser trailer for its December 7th, 2007 release: His Dark Materials: The Golden Compass.

The film is based on a book originally published in the UK in 1995 — two years before Harry Potter — under the name Northern Lights. This work of young adult fiction is about an orphan whose titular golden compass (or "alethiometer"), like Wonder Woman's magic lasso, reveals the truth. What won't the nations of this fantastical world — or, true to the trilogy's roots in a passage of "Paradise Lost", worlds — do to possess, or destroy, such a powerful artifact?

Though any children's fiction is likely to be overshadowed these days by the behemoth of a boy wizard, Philip Pullman's book is not without its recognition: it earned a Carnegie Medal for children's fiction in 1995, and a popular poll of all 70 previous Carnegie Medal winners awarded Northern Lights top honors.

The success of other fantasy films this millennium has paved the way for more adaptations of this genre; I can only hope this movie serves to bring more people to the original work in a way I previously have not been. My popular knowledge of fantasy and fiction, accrued from a lifetime (albeit a short one) working in bookstores, visiting libraries, teaching high school English, and late nights deep in pages of such adventures, has not crossed my path with that of The Golden Compass. If I'm bold enough to be any indication, it's likely most people will acquaint themselves with this series via its cinematic form, not the undoubtedly superior source material.

I rarely read novels twice, be it the Chronicles of Narnia, The Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter. So perhaps I'm not hardcore for the genre (though I'd beg to differ) and thus my ignorance can be dismissed. Nonetheless, I'd appreciate insight and advice from anyone more familiar with Mr. Pullman's works. Is the movie worth seeing? Should I read the book first? How excited are you for this adaptation — and the inevitable sequels, The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass?

Courtesy TrekToday.com comes the news that Patrick Stewart will star in a modern-day filmed adaptation of The Merchant of Venice. Captain Picard in Las Vegas reciting William Shakespeare?… Well, two out of three ain't bad.

I have a love-hate relationship with the Bard — he almost kept me from graduating from high school — but I find his works more palatable when correlated with my preferred media of musical and film. Engaging in five community theater productions a year, I enjoyed my most recent experience participating in Cole Porter's Kiss Me, Kate — a musical version of The Taming of the Shrew. (But I've not seen the more modern, less musical adaptation of his classic tale, that being Ten Things I Hate About You.)

I extended this penchant for connections and adaptations a few years ago, when I took a remedial college course on Shakespeare and his work. The professor offered us a number of topics on which to write our term paper, but none of them were about Hamlet. Having learned the prince's famous monologue from watching Johnny Carson, I noticed three movies take their titles from the soliloquy: To Be or Not to Be; What Dreams May Come; and The Undiscovered Country (Star Trek VI). I focused on one and produced a paper comparing Hamlet to Jack Benny's role in his 1942 comedy (not Mel Brooks' 1983 remake). The paper, entitled "Your Country or Your Life", was fun to write and even more fun to present — with selected clips from the film — at a regional Shakespeare conference.

So I guess my qualm isn't with the material, but with the presentation. Put it in a more popular, easily consumable format, and I'll happily bear witness to the staying power of the Bard. But as originally written? Give me The Complete Works of Shakespeare (abridged) anyday.

I'm a big fan of Neale Donald Walsch's Conversations With God books — not solely due to their content, which to a better trained eye may be unremarkable, but because these books initiated me into the realm of philosophical texts. If everyone is fortunate enough to have an eye-opening experience that teaches them there are more things in Heaven and Earth than they'd dreamt of, this was mine.

So imagine my disappointment when, ten years later, the film adaptation, released last month on DVD after a limited 2006 theatrical release, turned out to be a big yawn.

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