Archives for category: Review

As much as I may (un)ironically sneer at a lot of fantasy worlds, the Discworld seems to always get a pass. It has been close to my heart for almost half of my life now, having started to read it in Transition Year, fourteen of my twenty-nine years ago. Then, there was near twenty books for my younger self to follow, with many more to come. Now, we near forty and hope we’ll see that many.

Which is, of course, a stupid and arseholey thing to do. Pratchett has Alzheimers and everyone feels the need to weep and wibble and talk about how sad that is, but you know what? The man has kept writing. Even more impressively, not only has the quality not dropped, it has bloody well improved. You can hear his voice so very clearly now, which presumably is the effect of his dictating rather than typing the work. The already great prose now has a more lyrical, flowing quality. The characters sound that little bit more distinct. The books look further to bigger problems. We should be championing him as a writer and a person for his ability, giving a well-earned triumph to someone who has not failed to enthrall us. Yes, there will not be that many more journeys to Ankh Morpork, but better that we get one or two more books like his recent output than a hundred lacklustre efforts. This is the victory lap, and let’s enjoy it with him.

I Shall Wear Midnight is his latest book and the last to feature Tiffany Aching, the witch once in training and now put to work. While the earlier books were concerned with showing what it means to be a witch and what she must expect, this story now places her into that very world on her own, without the support of the witches who have been training her. Oh, they are there, and if Tiffany asked for help they would give it. They would even be kind about it, and that would be her mettle proven as something or a lesser stuff. Tiffany must stand alone. What is interesting is how ordinary a lot of what Tiffany must face is: while he has spent more time alluding to it in his Witches books rather than actively showing it, Tiffany is presented here as the Disc’s equivalent of a social worker. There may be conflicts with extra-dimensional forces and elven queens, but in the everyday life of a witch, there are old people who need help and children who need education and wives and daughters who need to be protected from abusive husbands… For all the menace of the dark magical forces in the world, it’s the humdrum and ordinary which present the worst problems. Once beaten, a demon flees; but a father who nearly beats his daughter to death remains at large…

Pratchett’s books for children are, somehow, always darker than his “grown-up” books. This isn’t just that the material is left open to younger, cleaner minds: the latter books are concerned with how a city functions or what the point of law is, dealing in more abstract concepts; the former deal with smaller issues which directly affect people and are, in their own way, more understandable (or at least relatable) to children. Children see terrible things every day, and Pratchett accepts the fact and rather than gloss over it admits the fact. In a lot of ways, it’s the most reassuring thing you can do for a child: tell them that they are not alone. It even seeks to show them a greater picture with the recurring theme of Tiffany’s stories: that there is hope and goodness and joy and pride, but you will have to work for it. The revelation of Tiffany’s inclination towards being a witch is the key to this, and without spoiling that wonderful reveal I will say this: it doesn’t matter how talented you are, hard work is more important if you want to succeed.

The great things about Pratchett’s recent work is that they are all about the thing and yet about more than the thing. Nation (his only non-Discworld book of recent years) was clearly a reaction to the diagnosis of his Alzheimers, yet at no point was it mentioned. Instead, he used it as the fuel to make one of the saddest and most touching of books in recent years, in which a boy faces the end of the world and the possibility that there is no God. Unseen Academicals was superficially about football, yet there is only a single actual match and it is at the end of the book; instead, the novel concerns itself with the idea of self-determination, the manifold nature of love and the social constructs and interaction of mankind. I Shall Wear Midnight is about a witch facing insane prejudice, but at its heart it looks at the selfishness of personal belief, mob mentality, problems that may never have solutions and the importance of dying with dignity. I cannot think of another author who writes about such things for children. Even if names can be offered (and I would genuinely welcome nominations!), I cannot think of anyone who does it so well.

One thing is clear: Pratchett is angry. Not in a negative way, oddly, but a constructive one. There is anger present that now has a channel. His work has always been concerned with social mechanisms and human behaviour, but now it goes further and looks harder at the cracks and flaws. There is optimism there, and that in a way is what gives the anger a sense of reality and grounding: we can all be so much more. There is no wailing or gnashing of teeth, just someone pointing to a better world if we can just stop being so short-sighted. Better yet, the issues he raises are offered with balance: while Mrs Spruce is a fairly hateful strawman, she is relatively unique in that regard as every other character of note is allowed some merit to be given to their motivations and actions (even, and I say this with some relief, the Duchess whom I can quite assuredly state that you will hate until a certain moment passes!). In contrast, while Tiffany is presented as a strong, confident young woman, she is herself able to make mistakes and present a flawed argument: in trying to help a housewife caught in an abusive relationship, she ends up terrifying her; her bossy, know-it-all actions, though well-meant, do not help her relationship with her steading in a time when anti-witch prejudice is on the rise. But the key which turns the lock and makes all of this work is that Tiffany recognises her mistakes and grows. In standing alone, she makes mistakes and errors of judgement, but she also, critically, learns to recognise them, adapt and change for the better of both her and the people in her care.

What better message can we give children, young and old, that that?

To those that now might be worried that social ills have usurped the importance of good humour in Mr Pratchett’s work can relax. The book is as funny as any of his better works. The Nac Mac Feegle are still the same tiny whirling dervishes of fun – albeit finally tempered with an edge of depth and even transparent, genuine rage when presented with a situation that threatens those vulnerable and dear to them – and Tiffany gets to hold wry, witty observations of the world. The humour is essential, both to offset the darkness of the book and indeed allow it to go to a scarier place than would be comfortable or even tolerable without. Being the final Tiffany Aching book (and possibly the final Witches book, although there is a door of sort left open at the end), not only do we get an end to the story that will satisfy us if never another word is written on Mistress Weatherwax et al, we even get an extension and conclusion to stories long since let go. In this I must insist that you avoid any review likely to spoil, since who or what returns is a lovely surprise that brings a great many things full circle.

I Shall Wear Midnight is a joy to read, and comes with my highest recommendations. There may not be many tales left to see, so let us savour them all the more and raise a glass to Mr Pratchett for such a magnificent time.

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In an age of information ubiquity, I will never quite accept the logic behind non-simultaneous international release dates. Ignoring the piracy issue, staggering the release of Scott Pilgrim Vs The World a few weeks after the US release date is leaving the potential audience open to the dangers of bad word of mouth. Unless you happen to be Pixar, there’s no way that won’t impact on your business, irrespective of how much or how little truth there is in it. I and mine will be there on opening day, but we’re not the ones you need to win over for the big bucks, however much we would like to believe otherwise.

Anyhoo, tirade over.

Scott Pilgrim Vs The World is a movie that I suspect I cannot be impartial or unbiased about. Aside from the earlier blog posts on the subject of Scott and his world, the series has a level of resonance for me that pushes it into a special and sheltered part of my brain that is unassailable by logic or reason. The books about the 23 year scroungabout first came out when I was a 23 year old scroungabout. Scott had a young girlfriend, I had just broken up with same. Ramona just came into his life, Olivia into mine. Gay roomates, oddly filtered perceptions of the world, inexplicable break outs into musical dance numbers… The parallels build up in a fashion that is either eerie, awesome, or the apotheosis of apophenia. The point is that objectivity is difficult at best. I want the series to be awesome. I also want the movie to be awesome. Edgar Wright has directed two of my favourite movies in recent years (Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz), has the stellar Spaced under his TV belt and probably the finest taste in music of any popular culture figure in the media today.

How then does Scott’s cinematic tale fare?

Quite well, as it happens. Quite well fared indeed. First the positives: the movie looks and sounds amazing. Opening quietly, the movie quickly charges into a pop art video game frenzy that will in seconds let you know whether you are going to enjoy the movie or not. The video game references are present and plenty, but it is their subtlety that impresses: you may chuckle at the 8-bit tinkling, but you will guffaw when you realise that it is the Zelda load-screen/sleep music playing and then realise that we are seeing Scott dream… The story – such as it is – is effectively adapted from the source, chopping and changing in a way that feels natural, retaining the elements that worked and using them in novel ways. Wright realigns the action of the comic to work so well that you wish they happened that way in the source material. Without spoiling book or film, I will just say that I adore how the movie comes to show Scott’s growth and his change in motivation.

The characters are perfectly realised: people whining about Michael Cera before having even seen the movie can relax, his Scott is just as much of a lovable asshat as he was in the books. It is in the supporting cast that the movie really shines, particularly in regards to Kieran Culkin and Allison Pill as Wallace and Kim respectively. Part of the joy of the books is that the cast are all far more likeable than dear, selfish Scott, and that point is not lost here. The breakthrough, as has been stated time and again, is that of Ellen Wong as Knives Chau, who gets to show just about every emotion under the sun as she transitions from innocent school girl to hardcore jilted lover and finally as a mature adult in the space of two hours. The exes are all well realised, and even allowed some small measure of sympathy if you should feel the need to look for it: While Matthew Patel and Lucas Lee come off as idiots for the most part, Todd is – bless him – the victim of his being exceptionally dumb, while Roxy has the rather legitimate upset of being told she was “just a phase”. The movie does not shy away from the emotional carnage that both Scott and Ramona are creating with their self-involvement…

What then are the negatives? While most of the secondary and tertiary characters maintain a reasonable if reduced presence within the story, there are exceptions. Envy Adams suffers the most, having her two and a half volumes of story compressed down into ten minutes. That she is played a little too insincerely also weakens her plot, as it alters her into a throwaway opponent rather than someone Scott may have unfairly aggrieved. Ramona’s role in the climax is also verging on troubling, lacking an agency that puts her character at risk. There is at least an interesting point – that she is trapped in a series of increasingly abusive relationships and they can be hard to escape without help – but it rings oddly here. Thankfully, that it isn’t just Scott fighting removes a certain amount of the sexual politickery, and his aforementioned change in motivation makes his role in the events much more palatable. Some may quiver at the superfast transitions between the day-to-day antics and the heightened reality of Toronto Combat, but as with Speed Racer before it, that just broke my heart with glee.

It’s very hard for me to be negative about this movie, even when I try my hardest.

The movie is not for everyone, but then nothing should be. Whenever anyone tries, you end up with low grade Adam Sandler movies and monstrosities like Vampires Suck. Attention Hollywood: when you make me sympathetic to Twilight, know that you have done something evry wrong and must be punished. You may love Scott Pilgrim or you may very well hate it: it’s a divisive movie, and all the better for it. I’m tired of unimaginative, plodding movies which try to walk the middle ground between art and commerce. It’s a huge shame that it’s not storming the charts in the way it deserves to, but that’s a quiet blessing, since it means we are less likely to have a dozen shameless rip-off parodies a month which look at the artifice and miss the point.

All in all, it’s a triumph that places Wright three for three in his movie output to date. Even though a part of me knows I’m probably wrong about it on some level, it’s equal to Toy Story 3 in my estimation of movies this year and will be the only film I’ll go to see again in the cinema this Summer. Who cares about objectivity when you can have this much fun? Scott Pilgrim Vs The World is just that good, and if you don’t like it, then I am sorry, but I’m not sure that we can be friends any more…*

(* Hyperbole. You’re still pretty neat.)

Bonus! The prequel cartoon which spoils NOTHING and adds A BIT!

I was out dancing back when I was in college, and there she was…

Okay, that’s a lie. I hated dancing when I was in college. A-cha cha!

How I Met Your Mother is an odd duck. Every time I ever see an advert for it, it’s presented as yet another in a long line of efforts to reverse-alchemise the Friends formula. But HIMYM is, once the superficial elements of cheap marketing have been scraped away, really nothing like Friends. For a start, it’s funny. The character dynamics are more inventive and subversive: the lead is a guy – not a girl – desperately trying to be in a relationship; his initial love interest wants to further her career, not start a family (and critically does not change in this motivation); the player is both charismatic and outright sleazy, both loved and loathed by the laides; the most emotionally stable and sensitive character is the lumbering Marshall… More importantly, it recognises and acknowledges that its characters are flawed and often odious people. Not enough American sit-coms do that: typically, there will be a character or two that is there specifically to be hated by the audience, but they are tangential to the core group. It misses the point somewhat to make them be so one dimensionally unlikeable, when a better show will create a character we care about that also happens to be a complete jerk.

Almost like what happens in real life.

I’m not just referring to Barney, by the by, although he is the most overt and obvious example of the character type. In truth, the entire cast of their moments in the dark, but it tends to be on a spectrum of morality, running from most relatively moral and decent to least, in my estimation, as Marshall, Robin, Barney, Lily to Ted. Yes, Barney is more respectable morally than either Lily or Ted, since he at least is honest to himself and those around him in his motivations and character. He may not be very nice, but he doesn’t abandon the people around him. He even has the wherewithal to be utterly distraught when he breaks his own moral code. Your mileage may, of course, vary.

The structure of the show is also fascinating. As the show goes on, it becomes increasingly obvious that the narrator is increasingly unreliable (mixing up dates and events, skewing perspectives…). When Friends had a flashback episode, it was a gimmick, and more often another excuse to shove Courtney Cox into a fat suit. When HIMYM delves into its own continuity and history, it’s not for a cheap laugh but to establish or enhance motivations. There is a purpose present which is built into the DNA of the show – it’s a continuity which stretches out beyond the six-or-so episode arc cycle.. A throwaway joke in one episode may turn out, two years later, to be a critical plot beat. It may be planned, it may be serendipitous for the writers, but it nonetheless feels natural. Once a running gag is set-up, attention is never drawn to it so as to alienate a newbie (never mind the sandwiches, who caught Ted’s current ringtone, for example?) It doesn’t operate at quite the giddy level of Arrested Development, which at its peak seeded jokes referencing future events that you could only get on the second viewing, but then again AD was a commercial failure in part because it pushed itself so hard at the audience. HIMYM is much more friendly and inviting to a new viewer, albeit with a caveat: you need to watch multiple episodes before it really begins to click (the pilot was quite dull until its twist; even then, it took a half dozen episodes or so to really take off).

Irrespective of the slow burn, the show does have more obvious and ongoing issues: Ted is the least interesting character, and his quest to find his soul mate is usually the least interesting element of the show. Both of these issues were alleviated by season 2 (when he was in what we the audience knew was a doomed relationship) and we instead got to see more of the group dynamic actively in play. It also helped that the writers finally developed an interesting take on Ted as a hopeless romantic, after nearly driving us to dementia with Ted being an insufferable bore in season 1 (that they later make him a pretentious insufferable bore is fine, because he was in that still funny). There is an impressive level of discretion in play that the more charming and insidious Barney isn’t constantly shoved into the front and center of every episode (though his player Neil Patrick Harris is so perfect in the role, you could feel the temptation). The real revelation is Jason Segel, who is rarely anything less than wonderful as the utterly relaxed and nigh-permanently conflicted Marshall.

Maybe it helps that HIMYM isn’t repeated on every station over and over and over and oh my… Maybe it helps that my recent viewing was five seasons worth of material clustered together (which helped to view the ebb and flow of gaggery both short and long term)… But it really is the best ongoing sitcom coming out of the the States at the moment. I really wish other shows would try this hard with their light entertainment.

I’m a smidgen late to the stage with this one, but it has been a long and hectic couple of weeks wherein I had to prioritise movies that will leave the cinema quickly over those that will remain in strength for months. Guess which one of these defines Toy Story 3?

There’s little that can be said about Toy Story 3 that hasn’t already been said, so…

Yes, it is the best movie in the series.
Yes, it was a elegiac tale of loss, family, and the putting away of childish things, but far more important than any of that was the celebration of imagination.
Yes, it did make me cry.
Yes, it was weepery open and unashamed, what I said on Twitter be bonked.
Yes, it was from That Scene in the room towards the end, all the way through to the blue sky.
Yes, Ken was funny, but Barbie was funnier.
Yes, it’s almost worth watching in 3D because it was designed with 3D in mind and the depth of field enhances immersion rather than distracting attention (this one, in fairness, will depend on seeing it in 2D for valid comparison)
Yes, Day & Night was the most impressive short Pixar have created to date.
Yes, it is even better than Presto or One Man Band.

Yes, it was a masterful swan song.
No, I don’t think I’ll see a better movie this year.
Yes, Toy Story is the best movie trilogy in existence.

My relationship with comics is often abusive. There is a lot wrong with industry, much of it to do with the portrayal of women. That it is a pretty even split between the art and writing doesn’t make it a more palatable equanimity. Heroines, super or otherwise, tend to face significant back problems in later life should they manage to survive past the Women in Refrigerators phase (or present day hip problems incurred from sporting an upper torso significantly larger than scale), all the while standing at risk of hypothermia.

The subject matter of sex, fetishisation, bondage and objectification is not so much dealt with in comics as it is blithely side-stepped. Your average superheroine may get captured, tied up, humiliated, but it will be okay in the end because after she has been saved she will stab the villain in the brain and say “GRR! THAT FEEL GOOD BETTER!” The reader is allowed to leer and then profess just how awesome the book is without any moral trepidation because the nice lady has just said they are feeling better now! If drama is to be injected, it is usually by way of Girls Night Out, rapine or pregnancy, because That Is What Defines Women, Yo. Were the double page spreads of ripplingly-bemuscled masculine superheroes and their scantily or shreddingly-clad damsels to serve a purpose beyond the shallow artifice of drama and dilemma (and more to the point, the enhancement of wrist function and musclature), it would be a level of sophistication that you might just be willing to give a pass. This is rarely the case.

All is not lost, though. Everything that these comics does wrong, Empowered does right.

Empowered’s author, Adam Warren, has been flirting with the issue of female representation for years. His Dirty Pair adaptation was less focused on the Lovely Angels scanty attire so much as on the ridiculous scale of destruction they caused. His Gen13 run had no end of cheesecake, but it did acknowledge and mock the fact and in return offered just as much in the way of beefcake as an act of balance (to the point that it was Grunge, the male hound-dog archetype, that suffers a heterosexual rape and not his female counterparts). Entertainingly, Warren used the demonstration of flesh most flawless to turn the series into a stealth science fiction book, and in the process set the genesis of Empowered in motion.

Empowered began as a series of jokes when he was attending comicons: weary of the constant slew of damsel-in-distress sketches and commissions requested, he started adding in the commentary of the damsels, typically taking issue with the heavily codified sexual imagery and, gradually, the emotional toll of the subject. From this humble origin in gallows humour, a character began to emerge and grow into the figure we now get to read about.

Empowered is the personification of insecurity. Rather than basking in the joy of being an attractive superhero, she is crippled by body issues which are exacerbated by her skintight costume. Her status as an inexperienced fledgling superhero means she is more at risk of capture, yet instead of offering support or condolence by her Superhomey peers, she is mocked and insulted as a bondage-prone laughing stock. Her closest companions are a former henchman, a failed ninja and imprisoned extra-dimensional entity that sits on her coffee table and watches TV endlessly. What makes it work is that for all the presentation of ineffectiveness, it’s superficial. Empowered is far more than a sum of sex jokes and superhero stereotypes. While this would seem to align it with the unfortunate issues mentioned at the beginning of this spiel, there are important differences.

First, Warren works by the method of showing, not telling. A surface reading of the material would suggest that she is a well-meaning doof. Look closer and we see how in fact she overthinks herself into insecurity: for all her failings beforehand, when faced with a situation where others are at stake she charges in without question and simply acts (the first instance we see being the protection of her ‘alpha-male’ boyfriend). Secondly, she is not okay with what she suffers. She frequently breaks down from the stress of what she goes through – unlike her Superhomey teammates, she is not invulnerable and it shows. The scene in book 2, one of the rare inked sequences, is one of the most painful examples of the emotional toll as Emp breaks down mid-coitus in a desperate need for emotional security. Most importantly, she perseveres. It would be easy for her to quit – her superhero career is not going in a direction she would want, but she continues to do so simply because any positive difference she makes is worthwhile to her, whether it is toppling an interdimensional overlord demon or saving the life of a henchman because she doesn’t want his child to experience what she did as a child when her own father… She’s a good person, and you want her to succeed. It’s just going to take longer than it should (for her, at least).

Not that the series is a dour, po-faced expression of how Emp’s life unfolds. She vacillates, allowing herself to feel attractive as often as she does overstocked of Sir Mix-a-lot’s preferences. As much as she can rant about her suit, she can enjoy the liberation and empowerment that it can give her (which in turn feeds into the ongoing and simmering plot that is surely about to come to the boil). While her career is stalled, she has friends and enjoys a healthier sex life than any of her counterparts. That she gets to clearly enjoy her sex life is in fact one of the main draws – sex in comics usually rates as an event singular, the culmination of a relationship storyline rather than an important ongoing element (I’m looking at you, Gambit and Rogue!) Moreso than anything else, it is honest in its telling. Emp’s life is not static: she makes friends within the superhero community as time goes on, her popularity grows by weird increments and in a strange yet obvious way. Piece by hard-earned piece, she builds her confidence. When she falters, her friends help pick her up. Thugboy’s intermittent speeches on Emp’s finer qualities are his efforts to champion his lady love, not to transform her into a trophy, and lord help whoever pushes him in that regard…

This is all before addressing the matter of Warren’s art. The manga-esque trappings aside, the most notable feature is that it is illustrated with pencils rather than the traditional inked style of comic. It creates a relatively unique colour palette for the series, but also allows a greater intimacy as pencils can allow for more subtlety (inks are typically used since they were easier to print in days of yore and now are a visual standard). This has the knock-on effect of making what scenes are inked really have an impact, as suggested above, or when we get our first glimpse of the psychotic Willy Pete. It also helps that Warren’s pencils are frankly gorgeous: the level of control he holds over his line and shading are unrivalled, the nuance unmatched. I am at a loss in fact to figure out how he avoids smudging everything (the other reason why inks are more common – once dry, they will not be your enemy!) Warren also holds the dubious honour of drawing what bodies and musculature actually look like, in motion as well as repose. Breasts are not spheres, nor muscles globes.

What is most interesting is that it is one of the few series I feel I could recommend to people who don’t normally read comics or superhero stories. The sex and bondage themes could so very easily come off as crass or voyeuristic exploitation, yet it never does. Warren is too focused on the human meaning to allow it to do so. Instead, what we have is a rare example of maturity in a mature subject matter, neither glossing over the darker elements nor wallowing in them. The main reason among reasons is that it is funny, whether it follows the cross-purpose dress-up sexploits of the Sexy Librarian and the Ravaging Centurion, the rampaging monologues of the Caged Demonwolf, or Emp’s own frustrations at the obnoxiousness of the superhero life (and less known slash-fic community). All of this is emphasised by Warren’s stellar comic timing and capacity to show action and reaction in his cast, perfect for the innuendo-laden tone of this series.

Are there flaws? Some, albeit few. Volume 2 isn’t quite as balanced as the others, hewing closer to inner turmoil at the cost of humour. The shift to science fiction themes later on may alienate readers who just want the series to evolve into Carry On Comics. The former issue is redressed by Warren taking tight control of the material, while the latter is a more interesting way to take the series than standard superhero fare. Then again, I’m one of the six people who read his Gen13 run that considered similar issues, so that was never going to displease me. More to the point, you will not have to read 17 other titles in order to fully understand what is happening in each volume, which makes it practically unique among superhero books. Empowered is one of the best series out there at the moment, definitely worthy of your time and investment. It also has The Maidman.

And so another season of Doctor Who passes into the gentle night. Whenever I mention how much I like the series, either historically or presently, I always seem to run into the same question with the same boggled expression. “Why?” It’s fascinating. The show is generally just behind Eastenders in terms of ratings, and a major success as an international export – moreso than any other show the BBC makes – and yet I am somehow the odd person for enjoying it. It’s like I’m breaking a rule no one has told me about. “Yes, it’s on, but you’re not supposed to enjoy it. Are you mad?”

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Um, yes, it’s all well and good that it’s keeping Jake Gyllenhaal employed and my lady happy at his exposed chest, but I question the logic of anyone who would adapt the games and not include spike pits and buzzsaws. The games weren’t about temporal macguffins any more than they were realistic interpretations of Persia then and now. It’s deathtrap parkour, you ninnies!

(It’s a souffle of a movie – it’ll fill you, but you’ll be hungry ten minutes after and cursing the World Cup for ensuring there’s nothing decent in the cinema…)

More TV and movies! Will I stop this nonsense and talk about something else? Eventually!
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It’s the end of the prime TV season and most shows are wrapping up – what better time to wax critical then on theoretically whole and complete story arcs? Glee, 30 Rock, Going Postal and The Losers all lie in wait underneath the cut…
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I am, as many of the people who have to endure me on a daily basis can assure you, a Scott-a-holic. I find Kim Pine’s attitude endearing, I love Wallace Wells as much as a straight man can with cheating on his Good Lady, and I can relate to Scott, in all the joy and squirming guilt that entails. Bryan Lee O’Malley has created something that accurately (or maybe that should read honestly) reflects a group of nerds, geeks, misfits and pleasant ne’er-do-wells. It’s not the first series to do so, it will not be the last, but it has struck a powerful shared nerve amongst its fans nonetheless.

And now there is a movie coming out – did you know that there is a trailer for it on the internet?


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