PR, a quick note to tell you that I think your comments ( on my previous post) totally rock, and I will reply to them in detail when I get some time to collect my thoughts. I need all my wits about me to address all your observations, and the maniacal level of work right now is completely coherent-post-unfriendly. Bear with me, huh?

Now, a post that does not require any form of wit or thought-collection whatsoever.

For the last eight months, I’ve stayed away from buying stuff off Secondspin, who have, out of desperation at my withdrawal from their clientele, inundated my inbox with news of special sales. Every week, I get a mail that pleads, yes, I kid you not, pleads for me to buy 2 CDs from their site, for which they will give me 20% off anything else I order and free international shipping and the promise that they will include signed copies of Absolute Sandman with my purchase. Yeah, ok, I kid about the last bit. I’ve maintained a dignified restraint to all such attempts – a swift mail-delete and a quiet sob being the only responses I’ve come up with. Secondspin, I am sorry to say, has lost their favourite Indian customer.

On the other hand, I’ve been buying Moser Baer DVDs like mad, Hindi movies that I had pooh-poohed as overpriced a couple of years ago. For 39 Rs, I am willing to buy any Hindi movie I’ve been remotely interested in, over the twenty-eight years of my existence. Sheshnaag was one of my first nostalgia-based buys, and I thought the pinnacle of this spree came last week, when I bought Toofan, which connoisseurs of eighties film will recognise as among India’s finest superhero movies. Today, I found Oh Darling Yeh Hai India, and proceeded to buy it immediately just so I can listen to the songs again, the Ranjit-Barot scored soundtrack being out-of-print for a long time. Also picked up Padosan, which I’ve watched multiple times but have never finished. And of course, the reason why I was in the store in the first place, the newest Rahman release Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na. My first CD in a very, very long time.

Checked out the credits first, like I usually do with a new Rahman CD. It’s a pleasant surprise to see Rashid Ali back in the Rahman stable. The last time I saw him was singing ‘The Journey Home’ on Rahman’s first world tour, and he’s on two songs on the album. Other familiar names – Tanvi, Naresh Iyer, Sayonara, Benny, Anupama, Aslam ( ASLAM?? What’s he been doing all these years? ). There’s a new singer named Runa, on a song named ‘Jaane Tu Mera Kya Hai’, the second version of which is sung by Sukhwinder Singh. Hmm, why does Rashid Ali sound like Akon on the first song? Track’s pretty funky, though. Genelia plays the lead and if I am not mistaken, Sagarika Ghatge ( the lady who played Preeti Sabharwal in Chak De India ) is in the movie too, but I can’t see her name on the credits. Before you ask, Vasu and Sasi, don’t worry, the rips will be online by tomorrow, I promise.

Other music-happiness – discovered this electronica band called Plaid through their score for the anime Tekkon Kinkreet. Apparently, the collection of electronica I got back from the US last year( a.k.a Joel’s Mega Stash ) had included two Plaid albums and I am listening to them in a loop right now. And downloading obscure Morricone soundtracks from old Italian movies and TV series. Then there’s Ivy’s ‘I’ve Got You Memorized’, that’s haunting my non-working hours.

I watched Haute Tension last weekend. A stomach-churning assault on the senses, one of the top-notch examples of gore/extreme violence films I’ve seen in recent times. I claim to have a stronger stomach than most, but last year’s Wolf Creek and Haute Tension both seemed to tear my reserves to shreds. Both these movies take pleasure in dispensing with the security blanket of the standard teen horror movie where, in the first half an hour, it is established who ( the “safe girl”, eight times out of ten, and the “unlikely boy” the rest) will survive the bloodbath that’s due. After finishing HT, I made this mental promise to myself to lay off gore movies for a while, and then I went and checked my friends’ page on Livejournal where adgy talked about another French flick called Inside, that made him squirm. There is a good reason most of my promises are mental.

The phrase ‘Torture porn’ gets bandied about quite a bit nowadays (along with the synonym I detest – ‘gorno’). And the phrase mostly came into being because of the work of these bunch of directors, collectively called The Splat Pack, are reviled by many and worshipped by quite a lot of fans for the horror renaissance they’ve brought back into mainstream Hollywood. Out of them, Eli Roth is over-rated ( I dug Hostel a LOT, mostly for the concept, but the execution was more over-the-top than horrifying, and the sequel was overhyped and sucked) and of all the directors in this collective, he’s the only one to whose work the aforementioned term can be truly associated. I haven’t watched any of the Saw movies to pass judgement on Darren Bousman. Rob Zombie is TRULY a genius, and I am looking forward to the works of Neil Marshall and Greg McLean, and post Haute-Tension, I am interested in checking out the remake of The Hills Have Eyes, which I had dismissed as one of those teen slasher movies in the vein of Slumber Party Massacre and What I did Last Summer.

The detractors of torture porn draw attention to the fact most of the violence in recent horror ( well, let’s not mull over definitions of “horror” here ) films are directed at women, and bring in an element of sadism and humiliation that appeals to a predominantly male audience. Critics like Roger Ebert and David Edelstein have gone on record saying such films are pointless and not art by any means. I don’t agree with both points. When you equate all such horror films with “porn”, you are effectively saying that the predominant element, the “point” of the whole exercise, is the violence, the same way there is not an iota of story in a porn film. A horror film, ANY horror film, and in particular the recent ones, have plots. They might be hackneyed or cliched, but they aren’t the knock-knock-who’s-there-the-plumber-oh-let’s-fuck variety that you associate with porn. I look at the horror medium, again, I am talking ALL sub-genres of horror here, as a challenge by a film-maker or a writer to like-minded enthusiasts, a challenge that says, “Ok, you’ve seen it all, now see if you can take this“, and creates something that pushes the cocoon of taste, tolerance and stability that the enthusiast has built up for himself. An author has a tougher job to do so, mostly because he has his words and the reader’s mind to play around with, while a film-maker can use both sight and sound to help his cause.

Just an aside. Sometimes, I see people shutting their eyes tight during a crucial scene in a horror movie, to avoid the tension. I cannot. I just have to see for myself. Especially if the sound’s on and there is a lot of screaming, in which case my mind conjures up worse things than what I see on screen.

But honestly, such cases are rare, because the challenge comes with a caveat – you have to allow the film-maker into a primal part of your brain, you have to agree to let yourself be scared. It’s easy to cheat. Get a bunch of friends together and laugh at the scenes. Think of how the scene would be if a Bappi Lahiri tune is playing in the background. Imagine you are part of the crew of the film ( this one’s my favourite cheat, guaranteed to work everytime), and think about what a pain it was to shoot the scene, about how the actors were giggling when they were shooting and what a bitch the makeup artist was. As soon as you dissociate yourself from the reality the film is trying to establish, you are no longer emotionally invested in it and probably you can sit through it without much inner turmoil.

But that’s not much fun, is it? Sometimes you need to let the demons in. I did, with both Wolf Creek and Haute Tension ( I even did it with this film called Kaakha Kaakha, where, a pivotal scene was a remake of one in a Hollywood movie, and one done very tastefully. Which in my book means that there was very little blood onscreen, implied violence rather than in actuality). In all these cases, I had to stop the movies in the middle to get some fresh air and calm my stomach. All three movies that I mention have this atmosphere of despair about them until the very end, and I think that got to me more than the gore and the violence. The fact that nothing can be right in this world, the good guys don’t always win, and there are no happy endings. And that I believe is what irks the critics more than the violence onscreen, that there isn’t a happy ending, which they would interpret as “a point”, to all that is happening onscreen. There is no cause-and-effect scenario either – most of the Splat Pack films do not go around explaining the whys and wherefores of the events in them, they are more concerned with getting the viewers to identify with the characters ( to what degree they succeed is moot), the precise tones of blood that would look realistic onscreen, the correct dirty texture of the sets, the perfect sound design. Most importantly, the antagonist in all these films is not a supernatural character or an over-the-top villain. It is someone who is everyone. The boogeyman of the twenty-first century is one of us, these films say, and by watching the events unfold onscreen, you are a part of the violence. In Wolf Creek, it is the jovial local who goes out of his way to help the charactersl; in the Hostel movies, it is someone who has money to spend on an experience of a lifetime. In Haute Tension…well, why don’t I avoid the spoilers here, enh?

All of these so-called torture porn movies have one thing in common – they are genuinely trying to disturb you, they are trying to make you stop munching that popcorn and feel uncomfortable in your seat when you watch it. Whether it changes your life or not is immaterial, really.

I will tell you what kind of films really make me unable to watch them – it’s the faux-snuff films. I tried watching some of the Guinea Pig films and shut down the player by the first five minutes or so, and deleted the files as well. The home-video feel to a movie is something I just cannot take, it is one element that makes my eyes water, and my mind becomes unable to indulge in any of the cheats I was talking about earlier. That’s a reason why I never got around to watching The Blair Witch Project.

Hellboy is one those series that has always left me with mixed reactions. The concept is stellar – the possible future ruler of Hell – nicknamed Hellboy when he was transported to earth by a ritual gone awry – is unwilling to accept his destiny because of his sympathies with humankind. His decision triggers events throughout the planes, and also, because of his involvement with the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense, he has made himself quite a lot of enemies in the netherworld. Writer/artist Mike Mignola draws inspiration from horror stories, folklore and local myths and legends from around to world to come up with a rich supporting cast for the series. The story of Hellboy is a series of quest-stories, each of which contributes to explaining a bit of back-story and also in building up the world the characters inhabit. Mignola obviously has a plan for his baby, and he is taking his time unfolding it to the readers.

But what gets my goat is that Hellboy, as a character, is ruefully underdeveloped. In spite of leading a life filled with supernatural elements, the character has little or no regard for the consequences of his actions. His standard modus operandi in dealing with anything at all is to punch and shoot, no questions asked. This adds a level of shallowness to the storylines that I’ve been unable to come to terms with. I mean, what’s the point of all this world building and plot development if your character is a one-trick pony?

That does not mean I do not read Hellboy. I follow the series very closely, even though it is tough to keep track of all the miniseries and spinoffs that are being churned out. Initially it was just Mignola doing all the writing and artwork, and my oh my, the man is a design god! Alan Moore summed it up perfectly when he said that Mignola’s work combines Kirby’s comicbook sensibilities with German expressionism. The work in Hellboy is the cumulative output of a man who has experimented with his craft for the better part of two decades and has developed a style that’s minimalist and unique. In short, when you see Hellboy for the first time and see Mignola’s chunky blacks adorning the panels, you feel like there is not other artist who can do the character justice.

But then, for the past couple of years, Mignola has been involved with other aspects of his character. He is, I believe, closely associated with the production of both the Hellboy movies, and the animated series, and the various merchandising aspects of his brainchild. It would be a wonderful world if an artist could just sit at his chair and draw and everything would fall into place, but let’s face it, page rates and royalties (and even original comic art sales) aren’t enough to make ends meet, especially if you’re striking out on your own. So one cannot begrudge Mr. Mignola his lack of output, he has a business to run after all. What makes it all good for the fan is that he is personally supervising the choice of artist for the ongoing stories –Hellboy, its companion BPRD, the limited series Lobster Johnson and Abe Sapien, and also co-writing most of them. There has been quite a gap between the last Hellboy series – ‘The Island”, and the latest “Darkness Calls”, and apparently that’s because the previous artist short-listed for the job did not quite make the cut, or the deadlines. Editor Scott Allie tells us in the letters page of Darkness Calls #1 that after the artist turned one issue in, he was replaced by British artist Duncan Fegredo.

Duncan Fegredo has had a checkered career. His work on Grant Morrison’s Kid Eternity and Peter Milligan’s Enigma, two miniseries published in the early nineties, brought him critical recognition, but not really the kind of fan following an artist of his caliber deserves. He then went on to do painted covers for a number of series, Shade the Changing Man, Lucifer, Star Wars, to name a few. But in terms of a career-defining assignment, Darkness Calls is definitely the first to come Fegredo’s way.  I was skeptical at the choice – like I had mentioned before, Mignola had always been the definitive Hellboy artist, and though there had been other artists doing short stints on the character ( as with the miniseries ‘Weird Tales’, a collection of short horror tales involving the character and written and illustrated by a gazillion different guys, including the likes of Alex Maleev, P Craig Russell, John Cassaday, Scott Morse and JG Jones) , Darkness Calls was core Hellboy, and it was difficult to envisage anyone else carrying off the mood and tone of the character.

When I flipped open the first page of Darkness Calls, I gasped.

This was not Mignola. This was like someone who had captures Mignola’s aesthetics, the spirit of Hellboy, so to speak, and made it his own. This was Mignola Reloaded. Ok, enough with the clichés already, yeah? Fegredo brought a manic intensity to the proceedings with his keen eye for detail. For instance, a forest scene that occurs in the first issue. While Mignola would probably have filled in blacks for the most part, and trust me, he can convey a LOT with minimal brushstrokes, Fegredo literally goes apeshit with his detailing. You can almost see the individual leaves crackling under Hellboy’s feet as he tromps through them, while in the background the bony branches of trees alternate as spider-webs of dark and light.  Fegredo got all the tricks of the trade right – the Mignolian leitmotif of an aspect panel transition to a close-up of a sculpture or some ancient gaping creature. His designs are fantastic – I don’t know how many of them were Mignola’s, but considering the kind of talent he has on display, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was given complete freedom to come up with his own panel layouts and character sketches. And trust me, the artwork just gets better, more confident and intricate as the series progresses. It is as if Fegredo, unsure of how people will react to his interpretation of this iconic character, had held himself back in the first issue and then feeding off the positive reactions, just cuts loose.

Ok, the story, which in case of Hellboy has always managed to disappoint me. Darkness Calls begins with some characters you wouldn’t know were relevant unless you have read the stories that came before – thankfully, there are editorial notes that explain which segment of Hellboy some piece of dialogue references. Then Hellboy enters the story and there you go, that same old pigheadedness about the character – he refuses an offer by a group of rather disgruntled women saying, “Leave me alone!” puffing on his cigar, not making an attempt to understand what they are asking of him. Then things begin to get interesting, when an old, old foe makes a bargain to have Hellboy transported to her world. It’s Baba Yaga, the old witch from Russian folk tales, who Hellboy had blinded once upon a time and who wants his life in return.

It’s interesting to note, at this point, that there are two American comic book series that uses Baba Yaga as a pivotal character – the other being Fables, another excellent series that you should be reading, and the characterization of the lady in both the series is dead-on – she’s evil, she’s powerful, she’s old and there are very few ways to keep her off-balance. In the Hellboy series, Baba Yaga is shown, much like her original Russian version, as traveling around in a pestle. Which gives me this insanely happy feeling in my tummy because this is the old witch I know.

So we have Hellboy stuck in Baba Yaga’s Russia, and it is but obligatory that we see other characters from Russian folklore popping up as well. Remember Koschei the Deathless, whose soul was hidden by Baba Yaga in a very, very secure location? Vasilisa the Beautiful, who was helped by a fairy godmother throughout her life and was one of the few girls who could actually escape Baba Yaga’s clutches? Don’t worry, I haven’t given out any spoilers, just that these two characters make their appearances. There are others, but you can find them out for yourself.

The story goes on towards a predictable climax – Hellboy punching with all his might. There is another revelation, but more importantly, while he’s exiled in folklore-Russia, things are afoot in his…our world, when something really really evil is being let loose. Darkness Calls, like ALL other Hellboy miniseries so far, ends on an incomplete note, with threads of stories to come. Like I said, this becomes frustrating for a casual reader who wants to read a story with a beginning and an end. Ah, well, so we wait for the next Hellboy series to come by, I guess. And read the BPRD stories that are coming out pretty regularly. *sigh*

Reading davenchit‘s comment about where the animated gif in one of my earlier posts was from made me rack my brains like crazy. Generally, if I surf the net and come across something interesting, it either gets saved to my del.icio.us account or, if the site in question is one that’s regularly updated with consistently good content, adds itself to my Google Reader. Interesting images – which includes hilarious LJ icons, animated gifs, screen-caps, celebrity por…uh…, you know, stuff – get saved to a temporary folder, which I later consolidate into a single folder somewhere. That stays on disk forever. Well, until the next drive crash, in which case I just think of them as collateral damage and continue with my life.

But hey, if you point to a particular image and ask me where I got it from, I would say, like I told davenchit before, “some random forum”. That’s because the above schema does not allow me to remember the source.

Today however, I wanted to find out where the image originated from. Out of ideas about searching for forums – do I look at comic art stuff or at scans_daily or at torrent forums or comic blogs or…how HOW?? A little creative googling to the rescue. The gif was linked by Cory Doctorow on Boing Boing a couple of years ago, and the creator happens to be a guy named Paul Robertson. Yes, he has a Livejournal. Yes, the journal has a ton of other gifs too. There is also an artblog run by him and a couple of other guys that’s pretty swell. And Paul apparently has made animated movies featuring arcade-game-style fights, blood, gore, mayhem and complete bedlam. I got one of them here. There is another, available on torrents as well and you can get more details of it here. The movie I got was 12 minutes long, and though the style gets a tad repetitive, I wouldn’t call it boring AT ALL.

Amazing stuff.

I did not read any more of The Drawing of the Three this weekend. I was busy writing Java code for a project all weekend, and dished a pretty bug-free version. And then came the actual hard part – writing out the project report. Drawing state diagrams. Class diagrams. README dot texts. Fuck, no wonder I hate going back to academic life. But it was all for a noble cause, and the project submission went well.

Didn’t stop me from checking out the first four episodes of Supernatural season one. Decent premise, and the effects just stop short of dissolving into standard American Horror Cheese. I think the atmosphere the makers of the show tried to put forward is more of a Hellboy-ish monster-of-the-week formula, which is bound to get tiresome unless there is some kind of a unifying thread to it all. Until episode 4, the primary motivation of the brothers Winchester appears to be “Let’s kick some evil ass”, with the seemingly half-bakedsubplot of finding their missing father. Unless there’s something more interesting in store, I think I am going to get tired of the series pretty soon.

Done with 18 episodes of Basilisk, with 6 left to go. The series veers into flashback territory in the middle, adding quite a level of poignancy to the doomed love story of Kouga Gennosuke and Iga Oboro. We get to see the other side of the supporting cast, most of whom are already dead at this point. There’s also the explanation behind Gennosuke’s powers, and quite a bit of character developement of all the people concerned. I likes.

You know, I’ve never really liked Iron Man. The only time I tried reading the character was the alcohol-abuse run, which to my fifteen-year-old brain was nowhere near the level of coolness Claremont and Byrne’s X-men was. Iron Man had lame villains, lame powers. Sorry, the only people I liked to see wearing iron armour were the Knights of the Round Table. I had quite a bit of fun teasing a friend, whose sympathy for Iron Man exceeded mine by a great length, with lame Iron Man jokes all of last month. There were also barbs fired in the vein of “I can’t wait to see The Dark Knight kick Iron Man’s ass this summer.”

You know where this is going, right? Like the rest of the world, I thoroughly dug Iron Man when I saw it this Saturday. Every single minute of it. And I seriously hope The Dark Knight manages to strike the same high note that its predecessor did a couple of years ago. Face it, Iron Man has indeed raised the bar for how to make GOOD superhero movies with intelligent scripts and uncringeworthy effects. I salute Marvel for keeping the comicbook fans happy, with that little bit after the credits. If that’s where the Marvel movies are leading to, colour me impressed!