Articles by john-ostrander
Thu Aug 14, 2008 — by John Ostrander
A Matter of Opinion, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
So. I’m watching – and enjoying – the finale of this season’s Doctor Who. I’m a big fan of the time traveling Doctor and have been for years and his present incarnation, embodied by David Tennant, is one of his best. The Doctor is in a dire fix, as usual. This time, he’s trapped in the headquarters of his arch-foes, the Daleks, and at the mercy of their creator, Davros. A whole squadron of the Doctor’s companions and friends are trying to help him by a) threatening to blow up the Dalek HQ or b) blowing up the Earth itself, ruining the Dalek master plan. Like I said, the situation is dire.
Davros sneers at the Doctor that, while the Doctor himself doesn’t carry weapons and won’t kill, he creates friends and companions who will. He tells the Doctor that those companions are the Doctor’s weapons. The Doctor looks guilty and distressed as he considers, and seemingly accepts, Davros’ accusation.
Mind you, this is the Davros who has just enunciated his master plan of destroying not just the Earth, not just the galaxy, not just the universe, but all of reality except for the Dalek HQ. This Davros describes as winning and will prove the Daleks – and thus Davros – are supreme.
Which leads me to my thought of the week. Some people’s opinions really don’t matter. They just don’t. I’m not saying that people don’t have a right to their opinions or that they don’t have a right to express those opinions. However, there’s no rule saying that I have to listen to them. As I heard Steven Grant once say on a panel, “Opinions are like assholes; everyone has one.”
And, omigawd, are there assholes out there with opinions – especially now in an election year and especially here on the Internet! You don’t need to actually know about something to blog about it. Hell, I’ve proven that from time to time myself. What you need is a computer, a modem (preferably high speed), and a website. It doesn’t have to be your own website; if it has a message board, you can blaze away with your opinions at will. You don’t even have to use your own name so you don’t have to stand by your opinion. Wheee. What fun.
Thu Aug 7, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Semi-Controlled Chaos, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
People are sometimes invited to my house. They’re never invited to my office. Ever. A cluster of clutter bombs go off in there with alarming regularity. My shutting the office off from public view is my tacit admission that the place is a hole.
I have a defense. I’m “creative.” I’m an “artist.” My office space reflects my jumbled creative mind. Actually, as I look around me, it’s maybe reflecting a mind that’s on drugs or needs to be. We don’t have dust bunnies; we have free-range dust buffalo. Herds of them move about in a sort of majestic splendor. They intimidate the cats. Wait, I can hear them rumbling by now. No, hold on – that’s a dump truck rolling down the road.
There are piles of things all over the place. There are boxes piled on boxes in front of bookcases that also have boxes in them. Sections of the floor have not seen daylight in the better part of a decade. Not that I’m sure how much daylight gets in through the windows anyway since they acquired a grayish patina. I’d wash them but I think the tint is baked on.
I have a relative idea of where everything is with two exceptions: stuff relating to my taxes and the take-out menu to my local Chinese restaurant. I know they’re both in here but it’s often a problem to lay my hands on them at the exact moment I need either of them. I don’t know what the linkage is between my taxes and the take-out menu. I’m assuming there is one; why else would these be the only two things that go missing? Currently I’m working on two hypotheses – either the office has eaten them or the cats have stolen them. That’s the most logical explanation I can devise.
There’s a fairly clear path from the door to the corner of the room where my desk is located. The mess sometimes encroaches on the path but I haul out the old machete and hack my way back through and things are fine again – for the time being.
Why is my office in such a state? My defense – in part – is that I’m a freelance writer; I don’t get paid for cleaning up my office and I don’t make enough to hire someone to do it for me. I have enough problems with my deadlines as it is and vacuuming the rug doesn’t help me meet them. Plus – I’m a guy. Like many guys, I have a fairly high DTL – Dirt Tolerance Level. Plus I’ve named some of the dust buffalo. There goes Bob. Howdy-doody, Bob.
Thu Jul 31, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Our Own Private Gotham, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
The newest Batman movie, The Dark Knight, is doing a nice bit of smackdown with all kinds of records, as well it should. It’s taking in money hand over fist. There are even whispers that it could wind up outgrossing Titanic, although I don’t think that will happen myself. The film will probably be up for several Oscars next year including, among others, Best Picture and possibly Best Actor for the late Heath Ledger’s incendiary portrayal of the Joker.
I’ve seen it, I loved it, I was stunned by it like everyone else. Best Batman movie ever. Possibly the best superhero movie ever. What really interests me, however, are the reports on the demographics of just who is going to see this film. It’s not just we comic geeks. It’s not just young males looking for adrenaline and excitement and explosions (although the film also has plenty of those). It’s everybody. Young and old, male and female, all colors, all races. That makes me ask a different question.
What is our reaction to this movie telling us about ourselves?
There’s a zeitgeist going on. You see this every once in a while – a film or a book or some music taps into the national psyche and expresses something that we, as a people, are feeling. I think the response to The Dark Knight shows it’s happening again.
Yes, the pre-opening buzz for the film was really positive. Heath Ledger’s death added a morbid curiosity. It had a terrific PR push. Anticipation was high. The response, however, is phenomenal. It’s doing better than the studio even hoped. So, again, I ask what is going on here?
Exploring this is going to involve talking freely about the film. If you haven’t seen the movie, go see it first. Experience it for yourself. This column will still be here when you’re done. In other words, Spoilers Ahead!
Continue reading Our Own Private Gotham, by John Ostrander ›
Thu Jul 24, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Spam Diego, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
So – today is the first official day of the 2008 San Diego Comic Con International Clam Bake and Fish Fry Harvest Moon Festival. Or, as I like to call it, Spam Diego. Where different unspecified cuts of meat are jammed together into one can until it becomes a single mass wrapped in a gelatinous type goo.
I suppose I should get right down to my first Con report.
I woke up this morning, got my newspaper, fed the cats, fed myself while I read the comics, came in here and turned on my computer. That’s right; I’m here at home, not there amidst the teeming multitudes lined up to gain entry. Wished I could say I wished I was there, but I really don’t. The last time I was there, my hotel was about a twenty minute trolley car ride north of the Convention Center. If it had been as far south, my hotel would have been in Tijuana. This year, I think I heard that people are having to commute in from Chicago.
When I go to a Con, I have certain criteria. I want to meet the fans and, if they want, sign their books. Fans are the ones who have enabled me to make my living at what I love doing for about twenty-five years. I want to say thank you, give back some of the love. I want to get new fans, if I can. I want those who have read and are reading my books to have a good experience of me.
At Spam Diego, unless you have a table of your own – too expensive for a writer type like me – or you’re being sponsored by one of the publishing houses, it’s hard for the fans to know where you are and when. Plus there’s a lot of competition. Lots of stuff going on. I mean. Brian Michael Bendis could get lost in this shuffle.
I want to meet some friends in the business that I haven’t seen for awhile; maybe make one or two new ones as well. Get to meet some who I’ve only known via e-mail. There are people I have worked with whom I have never met face to face. It used to be I’d run into people I hadn’t met in a while at SDCC and that’s always been a big draw for me. Now? I don’t know if I’d accidentally run into anyone unless I was driving the Batmobile.
Thu Jul 17, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Experiencing Grief, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
Muriel Kubert, Joe Kubert’s wife, died last week. You may have seen the story here at ComicMix . I went to the services. When I saw Joe, I asked him how he was doing (the same lame question most of us ask of those who have lost someone vital to them). He shrugged and said, “You know.” Then he looked me in the eye and repeated, “You know.”
I do. Kimberly Ann Yale, my own wife, died over eleven years ago, something that I’ve talked about more than once in this column. It strikes me that we don’t really talk about the grieving process much. It’s been studied and Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross charted its stages, noting them as shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing and acceptance. That’s certainly useful in an intellectual way but I don’t know as it really prepares you for the emotional impact.
We don’t like to talk about grief. I didn’t, before Kim died. It’s death. It’s scary. If Death hears us talking about it, maybe it’ll come over to hear what we’re saying. That doesn’t make sense but that is sometimes how it feels. Emotion has its own logic. If we don’t talk about it, maybe Death will go away. Knock on some other door.
Grief is something that should be talked about. The only person with whom to really discuss it is someone who has been through it. Not someone who is going through it at the time; they’re trying to make sense of everything and it won’t make sense. It has to be someone who has come out the other side.
Thu Jul 10, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Twenty Minutes Into the Future, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
A little more than twenty years ago there was, briefly, a smart satiric SF TV series called Max Headroom. It starred Matt Frewer who now has a supporting role on another smart comedic TV series called Eureka, which in a few weeks will start its third season on the SciFi channel. On the earlier series, Frewer played both the crusading young news reporter, Edison Carter, and his manic, stuttering electronic alter-ego, Max Headroom. It also had a terrific cast that included Jeffrey Tambor, Amanda Pays, George Coe and – as an regularly recurring villain – Charles Rocket.
I’m surprised no one has thought of updating it for a movie or another TV series.
The series was set, as it stated at the start of every episode, “twenty minutes into the future.” This future has a cyberpunk feel and TV rules the land. It is, in fact, against the law to turn your television off. If you cannot afford a television, one will be provided for you. The major networks are global and ratings are instantaneous and constant, being tied to revenue. The programs we glimpse might have come from Paddy Chayefsky’s great movie, Network. In addition, Max Headroom really did anticipate a number of trends that are now commonplace.
It’s that “twenty minutes into the future” gag that keeps popping up in my mind. It’s both brilliant and really tough to do. You need to be perceptive of the world as it is and then be able to project forward, to see the consequences of what we’re doing today, and that seems almost impossible. If there’s one thing we’re real good at doing, it’s ignoring unpleasant facts until it’s no longer possible to do. By then, it’s usually too late.
When I was teaching, one of the assignments I gave my students was to take something of today and then project it “twenty minutes into the future.” In other words, describe that future. They had to be able to justify it; it has to have connections to the real world. Anybody can play.
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Thu Jul 3, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Life 101, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
My Aunt Helen turned 101 years old last weekend. Let me repeat that – my Aunt Helen is 101 years old. She beat her own father’s record, who died a mere six months after turning 100. She still lives in her own apartment, with help especially from my sister, Marge. Helen gave up smoking only a few years ago but she still has her drink now and then. She gets to church when she feels the urge. Big Cubs fan, even though they haven’t won a World Series since she was born. I kid Helen that she intends to hang on until they win another one if it takes another hundred years.
She’s so old she dated John McCain. Ba-dump bump. I think she’d like that gag. Aunt Helen is still pretty sharp. Me, I’m not so sure about.
She lived in the house next to ours in Chicago’s Rogers Park neighborhood when I was growing up, along with my paternal grandmother and grandfather. When Pop-Pop had bought the property, Rogers Park was actually a suburb on Chicago’s North Side. Me, my brother, and my younger sister ran over there with some frequency because there we were little princes or princess – which we sure weren’t at home. Lord knows we took advantage of it. Well, I know I did.
Saturday night we’d have dinner there in front of the TV. Helen always served up the same meal: a bit of steak, Campbell’s Pork and Beans, and for dessert, ice cream cake roll swimming in chocolate syrup.
Let me take a moment to extol on the glories of the ice cream cake roll. The principle was the same as a jelly roll cake only the cake would be a deep chocolate and would use vanilla ice-cream instead of jelly. It’s impossible to find on the East Coast. Even in Chicago, the quality has gone down. The last one I had, the cake was stale, thin, and had freezer burn, as did the very artificial vanilla ice cream that was in it. I’ve wandered off the topic again but… dang! It was ice cream cake roll!
I think I remember some of the shows I used to watch during those Saturday night dinners such as Patrick McGoohan in Danger Man (which would later become Secret Agent) and Peter Lawford and Phyllis Kirk playing Nick and Nora Charles in a TV version of The Thin Man. After dinner we’d watch The Jackie Gleason Show that included the Miami Beach version of The Honeymooners. If we were lucky, we escaped before The Lawrence Welk Show came on.
Thu Jun 26, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Comic Book Market Farces, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
How’s this for a concept of a superhero? A guy who is strong, can leap maybe a mile but doesn’t fly, and only a bursting cannon shell can puncture his skin. He is on the outs with the government, the local representatives of whom may be corrupt. He’s on the side of the “little guy” who otherwise may not have a chance against the Big Interests. He dangles neer-do-wells by one foot high in the air and threatens to drop them unless they co-operate – and he laughs while he’s doing it. The guy may be more than a little crazy.
Like the sound of this guy? Readers during the Depression did when they first started reading Superman. You ever go back and read those initial stories? In one, Superman decides that one slum area of the city needs urban renewal, which, of course, the city is disinclined to do. Superman then provokes the army who tries to drop bombs on him. He rushes in and out of abandoned tenements and the bombs level those buildings instead. The army fails to capture Superman and the tenements are leveled. The city now has to rebuild public housing, given the attention on the area.
That Superman today would be labeled a terrorist.
Or how about Prince Namor, the Sub-Mariner over at Marvel when it was called Timely Comics. He was at war with the surface dwellers – us – and, in one story, deliberately flooded the Hudson Tunnel into New York. The tunnel is shown full of cars and there is no doubt in my mind everyone in them drowned.
Continue reading Comic Book Market Farces, by John Ostrander ›
Thu Jun 19, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Comic Reality Bytes, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
Samuel Keith Larsen recently popped me a question on my message board that I found interesting:
“Remember back in the Death Of Captain Marvel, where Rick Jones asked the Avengers why they haven't discovered a cure for cancer? To this day, given all the magic and super-science, there hasn't been any good answer for why cancer hasn't been cured in the Marvel Universe. If you were asked to write a story dealing with that topic, how would you answer the question?”
Well, I’d note that Captain Marvel was dead but seems to be feeling better these days. Same with Bucky. However, that’s beside the point – and the question being asked.
As I answered the question on my board, if I was approached to write a story such as Sam described, I’d probably not cure cancer but use the story to explore the problems with curing cancer and why finding a cure is so difficult. The question asks really about continuity – if Mr. Fantastic is so freakin’ smart, why can’t he cure cancer? Or AIDS? It begs the issue of consistency.
For me, there is a larger issue and it gets back to the basic purpose of storytelling – all storytelling, to a greater or lesser degree. As the rector at my church, the (sometimes) Reverend Phillip Wilson, has often put it, stories are the atoms of our society. We use them to tell, share, compare, illustrate, defend, and maintain our lives, our experiences, who we are as individuals, as communities, even as a nation.
Thu Jun 12, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Alone Together In the Dark, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
I remember the first time I saw the film Casablanca. It was at the 400 Theater in Chicago, just up Sheridan Road from Loyola University where I attended college. It was on the bill with Woody Allen’s Play It Again, Sam, an obvious but terrific double feature. I went stag but was lucky to get in at all; the small theater was packed.
I had missed or ignored Casablanca up until this point. I’m not sure why; I liked old serials a lot. The movie had certainly played on TV enough. I’d seen bits here and there or seen send-ups of it; callow youth that I was, I thought it wasn’t for me. Part of it was my own perverseness; my immediate reaction, on being told by everyone else that I must see this or I must hear that or I must read such and such is to say, “No, I don’t.” I get stupid stubborn about such things some times. Being told I would love the film I, of course, refused to see it. Finally, my curiosity overcame my perverseness and I sneaked off to view it without anyone else.
As I said, I went stag but I soon discovered I wasn’t alone. I was part of an audience, folks who mostly knew and loved the film. At the end of the singing of La Marseillaise, they cheered. When Captain Renault said, “Round up the usual suspects,” they cheered again. They laughed out loud at the funny lines (the movie is incredibly witty and they had actors who knew timing) and listened with rapt attention to Bogart’s speech at the end. Their delight and enthusiasm was catching on its own. And then there was the film itself.
Continue reading Alone Together In the Dark, by John Ostrander ›
Thu Jun 5, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Crossing the Line, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
I’ve been in this comics business for umpty-bum years now. Its not that I’m ashamed of the number; I just keep forgetting it. Ah, the joys of aging! It’s more than a quarter century since I started as a full-time writer; I know that. I’ve been a comic fan even longer. I’ve watched the occasional villain become... well, if not a hero, then something like one. Magneto, over in X-Men Land, for example. He’s gone from being the arch-enemy to our merry mutants to metamorphosing into an ally, to sometimes becoming their leader, and then back. Batman periodically gets darker until it’s hard to tell him apart from his foes.
Occasionally, this happens in real life.
Today, June 5, 2008, Ian Paisley steps down as First Minister of Northern Ireland.
Brief background, in case you don’t know: Northern Ireland is not a part of the Republic Of Ireland. It’s a constituent county of the United Kingdom and comprises the six counties that chose to remain a part of the U.K. when the Government of Ireland Act in 1920 created Home Rule in Ireland, formerly directly ruled by England. The Republic of Ireland, the South, with its capital of Dublin is (nominally, at least) largely Roman Catholic. Northern Ireland is largely Protestant but with a large Roman Catholic minority. In general, the Protestants regard themselves as English (they’re considered “Unionists”) while the Roman Catholics consider themselves Irish although, in fact, a citizen of Northern Ireland born before 2004 could claim citizenship in either or both the U.K. and Ireland.
Thu May 29, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Indiana Jones and the Secret to Adventure, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone
Spoiler warning: Spoilers. Why did it have to be spoilers?! I hate spoilers. Hate ‘em! Unfortunately, I can’t talk about what I want to talk about regarding the latest Indiana Jones flick unless I spill some beams. So I’m warning you upfront. The spoilers won’t appear until after the break and I’ll give you a final warning before I go into them. If you want to just skip the column this week, I’ll understand… this week. Don’t make a habit of it. I know where I live.
Wait. That didn’t come off right.
Okay, I’ve gotten out the fedora and went off to see the new Indiana Jones flick, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. As much as I’m a Star Wars fan (and I’d better be – I’ve been writing Star Wars for about eight years now and you can see what I’m doing in Star Wars: Legacy and, yes, that’s a plug), I’m a bigger goon for Dr. Jones. Even before Raiders of the Lost Ark came out, I was a fan because George Lucas talked in interviews about how his new movie originated in his and Steven Spielberg’s love for the old Saturday Matinee Serials. I knew exactly what he was talking about. I loved ‘em, too. Still do.
Saturday Matinee Serials are also known as “chapter plays” and originally were shown in movie theaters on Saturdays as a way of getting the kids to come back, week after week. They would last 12 to 15 chapters and each one would end with a cliffhanger for the hero or heroine with no way out. Of course, when the next chapter appeared, they showed you the segment that they hadn’t previously shown you which allowed said hero/heroine to escape just in the nick of time. The serials date back from the dawn of cinema to the early 50s when they fell prey to the confangled new invention that was to blight/enrich all out lives, television.
And it was there that I discovered the Saturday Serial. The old serials were re-packaged for Saturday Morning TV kid’s fare and, like the old matinees, were part of a package. It was here that I discovered these often cheesy pleasures. I remember Tim Tyler’s Luck – a 1937 Universal jungle adventure adapted from the comic strip of the same name. The strip petered out only in 1996. I also remember Don Winslow of the navy, also based on a comic strip of the time. In fact, it’s amazing how many of the comic strips and books of the time were adapted into serials – Dick Tracy, Superman, Batman, the Shadow (yeah, he had a comics strip), Spy Smasher, and an excellent version of Captain Marvel, among others.
Continue reading Indiana Jones and the Secret to Adventure, by John Ostrander ›
Thu May 22, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Patriot Games, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone #67
You may have seen this via e-mail. It’s getting passed around a lot.
At this point, a photo follows with Marines escorting a flag draped coffin to a grave and is followed by a prayer for the dead that I remember from my Roman Catholic days.
This is lump-in-the-throat, tear-in-the-eye agit-prop. Normally, I wouldn’t care – but they’re using veterans, whom I think should be honored, to try and make points for the Right, and that gets me riled.
Thu May 15, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Disney Invades Iraq? by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone #65
You may already know about this story – it surfaced in late April elsewhere. I found out about it thanks to This Is True, a weekly newsletter and website run by Randy Cassingham and one of my fave e-mails of the week each week.
Here’s the story, in case you missed it. An American entrepreneur has looked at the mess in Iraq and decided that what Baghdad needs is an entertainment park. Llewellyn Werner, chairman of C3, which The Times of London online says is “a Los Angeles-based holding company for private equity firms” is putting 500 million dollars – a cool half billion – into the Baghdad Zoo and Entertainment Experience outside but near the American “Green Zone.” It will comprise fifty acres and, in addition to the former Baghdad Zoo, will include a skateboard park, rides, a concert theater, and a museum.
The Baghdad Zoo itself now has only 35 animals out of about 700 it had originally. The rest were lost to the war – starved to death, stolen, and killed so they could be eaten by Baghdad citizens who were afraid there was going to be no food.
Thu May 8, 2008 — by John Ostrander
Them Bones, by John Ostrander
Tales From The O-zone #65
Oh, Your toe bone connected to your – FOOT BONE.
Your foot bone connected to your – ANKLE BONE.
Your ankle bone connected to your – LEG BONE.
Now hear the word of the Lord!
Remember that song? Dry Bones – a great African-American spiritual.Some of us remember it from the climatic episodes of The Prisoner
What I like about the song is the word “connected.” It suggests we look at things in context. I can understand how, in academia, it’s useful to parse things out for study. Sometimes studying a tree can tell you a lot about a forest. However, I do wonder if we haven’t gotten too specialized in our daily lives. Special Interest Groups (SIGs) seem to have more pull in government than ordinary citizens. Their power comes from their myopia. They are not there to think of the general well-being; they are there to work for the narrow interests of one group, whether or not that benefits the whole, and sometimes despite the fact that it does not benefit the whole.
The same is especially true on the Internet. There is a niche for every conceivable group and sub-group and some groups of which I would never conceive or would want to conceive (child pornography being an example). I worry, however, about a fracturing of our vision. I’m concerned about our ability to see beyond our own narrow scope of vision and interests anymore.
