Recent backyard bird watching can be a lucrative opportunity for inspiration. Or not.
(minor rant below the fold)
What with the recent explosion of comics onto the big screen, I fear it's already burning me out on the superhero genre... for the second time in my life. Flogging franchised features is a finite source of entertainment:
"So here's what's on tap two summers from now: an adaptation of a comic book. A reboot of an adaptation of a comic book. A sequel to a sequel to an adaptation of a comic book. A sequel to a reboot of an adaptation of a TV show. A sequel to a sequel to a reboot of an adaptation of a comic book. A sequel to a cartoon. A sequel to a sequel to a cartoon. A sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a cartoon. A sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a sequel to a movie based on a young-adult novel." - Mark Harris/The Day the Movies DiedI've grudgingly reconciled myself with the cinematic adaptations of epics like The Lord of the Rings and Watchmen as completely separate interpretations that, regardless of how good they are unto themselves, still stand far apart from the original source material. Still I'm unimpressed with the majority all these exhumations of the classics: hell, even after all the hype and excitement, I was so bored at the Tron remake that I actually fell asleep in the theater. So much for the nostalgia factor. It all serves as a reminder that nomatter how much special effects get larded into a production, the fact is it all goes back to, and draws from, the original story. Well worth remembering and pointing out that somebody somewhere at some point sat down and wrote it first.
A sore point of criticism is saved for one of my personal favorites of yore, Thor. For the upcoming movie, the original and essential character of Donald Blake is completely edited out of existence, thus making for another loud, stupid piece of entertainment. Aspects that humanize, define and add depth to characters must really complicates everything, really slowing down the action. Or maybe I just resent the hijacking of another childhood fantasy where I'd bang my own walking stick against the ground, and (like prayer) nothing would happen.