raul grau
Aug 5, 2005, 12:45 pm
<img src="http://www.comixfan.com/xfan/images/columns/offpanelonscreen.jpg" hspace=10 align=left border=0 alt="Off Panel / Onscreen logo">By Seth Kim, loki@darkhorsemail.net
The Spandex-Lite Movement
In the past seven years, we have seen no less than 16 films, give or take a few, based on properties owned by the Big Two, DC and Marvel. Although the current renaissance of comic book properties to see life through film is one of recent history, you might be surprised by how many comic book films were made following the descent of the genre, post-Superman IV. Equally surprising, both non-comic and comic fans alike may have no idea that many of those films were based on comics. As we all know, to most of the collective world, comics go hand in hand with men and women in tights, but these films have nothing to do with spandex whatsoever. Yes, there is life outside of the Big Two. There are beautiful stories about people who can do remarkable feats, and others about regular schmoes. This, my friends, is the world of independent comics.
We have to ask ourselves why independent comics were being made into films, a ballsy move considering that comic books were a funk instead of a fad during the early 90s, when the trend set by Blade was still eight years off. To answer that question, we must ask what the charm of independent comics is in the first place. The answer is a rather simple one. Freedom. The bottom line is that the big two are rather uptight with their characters. They are their characters. This freedom that they lack is, in turn, the gift of independent publishing. Anything goes when you write your own book, when you write for yourself and no one else. There's no worrying if your character meeting his long-lost father will go against what was written 30-some years ago, and there's no losing sleep if you have to bring back a character after her apparent death. This leads into another element that makes independent books interesting, and that is, of course, diversity. It goes without saying that superheroes are the bread and butter of DC and Marvel. To a certain extent, independent publishers also feature spandexed superheroes, but to a larger extent, you can also find stories of other flavors.
Another reason why filmmakers feel drawn to independent books is the innate pitfalls that accompany flagship titles and characters of the Big Two. First off, said characters have evolved for decades, bringing along tomes of continuity that must be sifted through until the best combination can be derived and compacted into a 90-minute time span. Another factor is the fan base. The familiarity of X-Men dwarfs that of, say, Tank Girl. Consequently, the risk of alienating or downright pissing off a greater crowd is that much higher with X-Men. The chance of larger success is also that much greater with an independent comic film, since it is reaching a completely new audience. Low risk vs. high profit is also one of the reasons that independent film broke out in the early 90s. It is ironic, however, that save a few films, independent films and independent comic films have shockingly little in common.
In the end, it comes down to two simple points. There are good stories that filmmakers want to tell, and less risk to making an independent comic into a film. The funny part is that you could classify the list of independent comic films under those two groupings as well. The end product is basically different, revolving around whether the filmmakers were more concerned with good stories, or low risk/high profit.
I've come a long way without so much as mentioning a single independent comic book film, so let's take a look at the flow of independent adaptations.
In a way, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles doesn't really fit the bill, as they were just about as mainstream and high-profile as Batman in their hey-day. Ninja Turtles may have started as a hard-edged parody of the most popular comics of the time (the teenage mutants of X-Men, the ninjas of Daredevil), but the moment the story was watered down for after-school television, it became all but a conglomerate in kiddy entertainment. Soon, the quartet was everywhere with action figures, video games, and a plethora of worthless crap that lasted them throughout a better portion of the late 80s and early 90s, while spitting on their originally good name. A movie was a no-brainer. The success of the movie was also a no-brainer. It was only natural that a sequel was made, although I do have to give mention to Vanilla Ice and his effort in the film, as it's pretty much a prerequisite that everyone makes fun of Vanilla Ice when the opportunity presents itself... Anyway, the films, or trilogy if you will, ended with a third installment that saw the quartet in medieval Japan. By the time the third film was released, I was old enough to be embarrassed to ask my pops to take me to see it, but it was also one of my earlier exposures to the samurai experience. In the end, it's pretty clear why New Line chose to bring the Ninja Turtles to film; it was a safe bet. The same could not be said for some of these other films.
The Rocketeer was also another early entry into the independent comic film world, riding the coattails of Batman's success. Based on Dave Steven's graphic novel, The Rocketeer was along the vein of pulp comic strips and serials, with the popular theme of trouncing the Nazis, which was used several times in other independent comic films as well. In a sense, The Rocketeer was very much a tale of a superhero with an incredibly cool getup, but with a 1940s sensibility. The film played out in this manner as well, basically starring a superhero in a WWII setting. This was an early outing in the independent comic adaptation movement, and it was a successful one; a solid film staying true to its comic and film roots. There would, quite fortunately, be more of the same, but, as always, there were exceptions to the norm.
The 90s saw many independent comics reach film fruition, some well-received by the general film-going populace, as well as the comic world. On the other hand, others were ill-conceived and mismanaged, leading to train wrecks that did little justice to the works they represented. Dr. Giggles, Barb Wire, The Mask, Time Cop, Judge Dredd, Tank Girl, Men In Black, and Spawn were among those projects. The choice to make these books into film could be considered low risk and perhaps even good storytelling... although I highly doubt the latter... Big names and strayed material were the name of the game for most of the independent comic films of the 90s, with the likes of Sly Stallone, Jim Carrey, Will Smith, and Lori Petty, er...scratch that one, gracing the screen as the lesser known mugs of comic history. Some of these movies were different from their source material, yet fun all the same (The Mask, Men In Black), but some were different and just crappy (Barb Wire, Spawn). The Rocketeer would not be the only salvageable independent comic film of the 90s, as we saw the true gem of not only the independent movement, but also of all comic to film adaptations in 1994.
The Crow, based on J. 'O Barr's poetic tale of loss and retribution, was a landmark in comic film history, with a phenomenal lead in the late Brandon Lee, backed by a strong supporting cast, and directed by a gifted filmmaker in Alex Proyas. The production of the film was troubled, leading to the tragic death of Lee in a freak accident. Upon its release, The Crow met with mixed reviews at the time. Some more concerned with the press it had received due to its tragedy, but the comic world seemed to embrace the film despite its tendencies towards style over substance, and the string of disappointing sequels and spin-off television series left in its wake. It was also generally agreed that even though the film did the graphic novel justice, it failed to surpass or even meet the lofty standards set by the book. Even so, The Crow was a strong work, not set on ticket sales like some of the aforementioned films, but more on the film and perhaps the performance itself. To this day, it still remains my favorite comic book film.
By the end of the decade, we would see the phenomenal Mystery Men, based on the team of superheroes from the pages of Flaming Carrot (it was a shame that we didn't get to see him), just in time to witness the coming age of superheroes and spandex. As the sage Jason Lee said in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, "Well, after X-Men hit at the box office, all the studios started buying up every comic property they could get their hands on." Naturally, independent comics were no different. Spandex was on in full force, but so were the more outlandish themes and denizens of the comic world. Few can blame filmmakers and fans alike for wanting to make Alan Moore's work into films, but apparently a curse is laced within each book (after all, Moore is a dabbler in black magic), as those films that have seen light did nothing to emulate the books they were derived from. From Hell was the first of several, with a promising team in Johnny Depp and the infamous brothers Hughes. The film itself was certainly not horrible, but it was underwhelming, the first failure in a string of several, and unable to capture the true spirit of the genius writer.
Although The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, or the film more fondly (snicker) known as LXG (I hate acronyms, they're like tell-tale signs of laziness), is technically a DC book, I will take a moment to address it, as well as a few other Alan Moore works. LXG was the second and perhaps worst installment in the line of Alan Moore adaptations. Not unlike The Crow, The League was also a plagued production, only this time the film's troubles were due to clashing egos rather than tragic events. To be absolutely honest, I somewhat enjoyed League, but only when I had managed to absolutely throw out any attachment I had towards the comic series. Even so, that doesn't change the fact that The League was a regressive movie more along the films that dominated the 90s, geared towards big stars, bigger budgets, and outright ignoring the source material. By this time, we had thought that stage was over, although we did have Men In Black II in 2002. Constantine also flirts with such a formula, although it was the most enjoyable of the three. We have yet to see if Mr. Moore will continue his apathetic stance on the films based on his work (Moore has publicly stated he wants nothing to do with the films, sometimes even condemning the projects), and we also have yet to see if the curse will continue its path, with V for Vendetta well into works and Watchmen back in development hell. I, for one, am of the legions of fans of both these seminal works, simultaneously awaiting while dreading the films to be.
The high point of the decade so far may come as a departure from subject material considered mainstream in the world of comics. Even more than some of the other films mentioned so far, these were smart books, perhaps the crux of independent comicdom itself, lending its spirit to equally smart films. Ghost World and American Splendor are both quirky films with an equally quirky view of the lives of not extraordinary beings, but extraordinarily ordinary ones. Both Ghost World and American Splendor could be considered the very epitome of what an independent comic film should be, with both the very essence of independent comics in their subject material. Both films also had all of the intrinsic characteristics of the classic independent film, unlike their 90's predecessors. Actors instead of stars, bold filmmakers, low budgets, non-major studios, and just plain good stories. Critics and fans alike were just waiting for films like these, and they got them in spades. Since their releases in 2000 and 2003 respectively, both have mustered steady fan bases and been allowed tiers into the hallowed pantheon of the greatest comic to film adaptations.
Of course, even if you have a string of hits, you're bound to hit a miss, and although the decade was looking to be a strong one for independent comic films (it still is....), along came Bulletproof Monk. When I heard the concept for the Bulletproof Monk film, I was all but ecstatic. Having gone through my own Hong Kong phase, Chow Yun Fat was a personal hero, and Bulletproof Monk was a book that I had enjoyed. For those who have seen the end product, or catastrophe that was Bulletproof Monk, I don't think I really have to elaborate, but for those of you who haven't, I'll spare a moment. In my mind, I don't imagine that Bulletproof Monk was developed with the most noble of intents. With Hong Kong films and wire-fu the "in" thing at the box office, it would seem that the folks at MGM thought they too would cash in on the trend, and who better than Chow Yun Fat, three years off Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, to spearhead their effort? Plus, the movie was based on a comic, so they'd have the best of both worlds! Best of no worlds is more like it... Had Bulletproof Monk been treated with the integrity that it deserves, the material and cast had the potential to be not only a great comic film, but also a great martial arts film. Instead, we were given the typical CG-effects laden, late night wire-fu cable fodder complete with juvenile one-liners and half-assed choreography (I'm shocked to learn that Corey Yuen, most recently known for The Transporter, had anything to do with this film). Man, everyone involved with that one has to be shaking their heads.
But then came Alien Vs. Predator.
For a moment there, I was tempted to leave it at that one sentence. Two properties that I hold very dear to my heart are Aliens Vs. Predator and Biohazard, better known as Resident Evil. These two properties had the potential to be adapted into what could have been the best genre films in cinema history, yet such dreams were crushed by the same man, Paul W. Anderson. I honestly don't know how studios went from the likes of George Romero, Ridley Scott, and James Cameron, to Paul Anderson. Ever since the two movie monsters first clashed in the Dark Horse comic in 1989, and we saw that Xenomorph's skull on the Yautja's trophy wall in Predator 2, fans have been clamoring for a film, having to abide with numerous comics, novels, and video games. The formula behind the series, the trinity of the Aliens, Predators, and Colonial Marines, was so successful that it even served as the basis for such properties as the Blizzard game, Starcraft. It was a formula that held cinema gold, and one that Paul Anderson simply chose to neglect. Instead of holding a science fiction who's who by bringing in Ahnold, Sigourney Weaver, and Michael Biehn to reprise their most memorable roles, Anderson chose to pen his own script, disregarding most of the material set before him. The results were nothing short of catastrophic. Thankfully, this one atrocity had little to do with the general flow of independent comic films.
Although infinitely better, and incredibly well-received, Hellboy was another film that I met with mixed feelings. Hellboy was a fundamentally good film, one that was liked by comic fans, movie critics, and general film-goers alike, which of course is no small feat in itself. But as a stark fan of the book, I found that the comic was one that just didn't translate well onto the screen. I recognized that director Guillermo del Toro, responsible for one of the better comic films in recent history in Blade II, was a fan of the series, and understood the material, and more importantly the character (del Toro had to pass on the last Blade film to direct Hellboy). Despite that, he had made the wrong decision in continuing the look and vein of Blade, instead of taking Hellboy in a different artistic direction. Even though Hellboy's roots are the pulp background of early film, and would have benefited immensely from cinematography emulating that style, del Toro chose to go for something more decidedly modern. The result is a film that looks more like Men in Black than The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. The film was successful, and was also enjoyable (Lord knows del Toro or anyone else could have shot that particular property down the toilet), and has warranted a sequel. Even though Hellboy, and most likely, the sequel are not the films that I would have liked to have seen, they are certainly favorable signs that AVP was just a momentary lapse, instead of an omen of things to come.
Boy were we in for a surprise this year. Although the quality of superhero spandex films was violently fluctuating, independent comic films showed no signs of slowing down the continual momentum they had been building during the past few years. Even so, none of us could have known that the mother of all independent comic films was looming over the horizon and just waiting to knock us flat on our ass like a combat boot drop kick straight through the windshield of a police cruiser. Sin City. One of the few Holy Grails of independent comics, and a property many had sought to bring to the silver screen. It would be movie maverick Robert Rodriguez who would have the vision to adapt such a book, not only with the blessings of Frank Miller (who had been set on never allowing a film adaptation), but also to respect Miller enough to bring him in as an equal partner. In the hands of its original creator and a skillful filmmaker who adored the property, Sin City became an unprecedented visceral tour de force, two booze-drenched hours that played like a slap in the face.
The irony of the comic book film adaptation, in most cases, is undeniable. While the independent comic revolves around the telling of the story, humble outings that are quiet existences within the conglomerate machine of the comic industry, the film adaptations which they birth are anything but. With small fanbases that come hand in hand with less opposition, negotiations over creative leeway and character rights with lone creators as opposed to massive corporations, and less recognition that allows for more upside, an independent property can be the ideal Hollywood summer blockbuster. Of course, this is not always the case. Sometimes, only sometimes, we will be blessed with the right director, who was equally blessed to have fallen in love with a little-known book. Sometimes, just sometimes, that director will be fortunate enough to meet the right people who can help him bring that book that he loves, that very vision to theatres. If that isn't magic my friends, I have no idea what is. Either way, whether it be your typical popcorn fare, or your very atypical but very personal story, or the occasional wild card in the form of an 1:1 presentation, there will always be an alternative for the comic fix that you crave... only without the tights. And we wouldn't have it any other way.
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If Seth Kim had had his way, Barb Wire would be kept in the section of the video store which you need ID in order to enter.
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The opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the writer, and are not reflective of Comixfan or its other staff in general.
The Spandex-Lite Movement
In the past seven years, we have seen no less than 16 films, give or take a few, based on properties owned by the Big Two, DC and Marvel. Although the current renaissance of comic book properties to see life through film is one of recent history, you might be surprised by how many comic book films were made following the descent of the genre, post-Superman IV. Equally surprising, both non-comic and comic fans alike may have no idea that many of those films were based on comics. As we all know, to most of the collective world, comics go hand in hand with men and women in tights, but these films have nothing to do with spandex whatsoever. Yes, there is life outside of the Big Two. There are beautiful stories about people who can do remarkable feats, and others about regular schmoes. This, my friends, is the world of independent comics.
We have to ask ourselves why independent comics were being made into films, a ballsy move considering that comic books were a funk instead of a fad during the early 90s, when the trend set by Blade was still eight years off. To answer that question, we must ask what the charm of independent comics is in the first place. The answer is a rather simple one. Freedom. The bottom line is that the big two are rather uptight with their characters. They are their characters. This freedom that they lack is, in turn, the gift of independent publishing. Anything goes when you write your own book, when you write for yourself and no one else. There's no worrying if your character meeting his long-lost father will go against what was written 30-some years ago, and there's no losing sleep if you have to bring back a character after her apparent death. This leads into another element that makes independent books interesting, and that is, of course, diversity. It goes without saying that superheroes are the bread and butter of DC and Marvel. To a certain extent, independent publishers also feature spandexed superheroes, but to a larger extent, you can also find stories of other flavors.
Another reason why filmmakers feel drawn to independent books is the innate pitfalls that accompany flagship titles and characters of the Big Two. First off, said characters have evolved for decades, bringing along tomes of continuity that must be sifted through until the best combination can be derived and compacted into a 90-minute time span. Another factor is the fan base. The familiarity of X-Men dwarfs that of, say, Tank Girl. Consequently, the risk of alienating or downright pissing off a greater crowd is that much higher with X-Men. The chance of larger success is also that much greater with an independent comic film, since it is reaching a completely new audience. Low risk vs. high profit is also one of the reasons that independent film broke out in the early 90s. It is ironic, however, that save a few films, independent films and independent comic films have shockingly little in common.
In the end, it comes down to two simple points. There are good stories that filmmakers want to tell, and less risk to making an independent comic into a film. The funny part is that you could classify the list of independent comic films under those two groupings as well. The end product is basically different, revolving around whether the filmmakers were more concerned with good stories, or low risk/high profit.
I've come a long way without so much as mentioning a single independent comic book film, so let's take a look at the flow of independent adaptations.
In a way, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles doesn't really fit the bill, as they were just about as mainstream and high-profile as Batman in their hey-day. Ninja Turtles may have started as a hard-edged parody of the most popular comics of the time (the teenage mutants of X-Men, the ninjas of Daredevil), but the moment the story was watered down for after-school television, it became all but a conglomerate in kiddy entertainment. Soon, the quartet was everywhere with action figures, video games, and a plethora of worthless crap that lasted them throughout a better portion of the late 80s and early 90s, while spitting on their originally good name. A movie was a no-brainer. The success of the movie was also a no-brainer. It was only natural that a sequel was made, although I do have to give mention to Vanilla Ice and his effort in the film, as it's pretty much a prerequisite that everyone makes fun of Vanilla Ice when the opportunity presents itself... Anyway, the films, or trilogy if you will, ended with a third installment that saw the quartet in medieval Japan. By the time the third film was released, I was old enough to be embarrassed to ask my pops to take me to see it, but it was also one of my earlier exposures to the samurai experience. In the end, it's pretty clear why New Line chose to bring the Ninja Turtles to film; it was a safe bet. The same could not be said for some of these other films.
The Rocketeer was also another early entry into the independent comic film world, riding the coattails of Batman's success. Based on Dave Steven's graphic novel, The Rocketeer was along the vein of pulp comic strips and serials, with the popular theme of trouncing the Nazis, which was used several times in other independent comic films as well. In a sense, The Rocketeer was very much a tale of a superhero with an incredibly cool getup, but with a 1940s sensibility. The film played out in this manner as well, basically starring a superhero in a WWII setting. This was an early outing in the independent comic adaptation movement, and it was a successful one; a solid film staying true to its comic and film roots. There would, quite fortunately, be more of the same, but, as always, there were exceptions to the norm.
The 90s saw many independent comics reach film fruition, some well-received by the general film-going populace, as well as the comic world. On the other hand, others were ill-conceived and mismanaged, leading to train wrecks that did little justice to the works they represented. Dr. Giggles, Barb Wire, The Mask, Time Cop, Judge Dredd, Tank Girl, Men In Black, and Spawn were among those projects. The choice to make these books into film could be considered low risk and perhaps even good storytelling... although I highly doubt the latter... Big names and strayed material were the name of the game for most of the independent comic films of the 90s, with the likes of Sly Stallone, Jim Carrey, Will Smith, and Lori Petty, er...scratch that one, gracing the screen as the lesser known mugs of comic history. Some of these movies were different from their source material, yet fun all the same (The Mask, Men In Black), but some were different and just crappy (Barb Wire, Spawn). The Rocketeer would not be the only salvageable independent comic film of the 90s, as we saw the true gem of not only the independent movement, but also of all comic to film adaptations in 1994.
The Crow, based on J. 'O Barr's poetic tale of loss and retribution, was a landmark in comic film history, with a phenomenal lead in the late Brandon Lee, backed by a strong supporting cast, and directed by a gifted filmmaker in Alex Proyas. The production of the film was troubled, leading to the tragic death of Lee in a freak accident. Upon its release, The Crow met with mixed reviews at the time. Some more concerned with the press it had received due to its tragedy, but the comic world seemed to embrace the film despite its tendencies towards style over substance, and the string of disappointing sequels and spin-off television series left in its wake. It was also generally agreed that even though the film did the graphic novel justice, it failed to surpass or even meet the lofty standards set by the book. Even so, The Crow was a strong work, not set on ticket sales like some of the aforementioned films, but more on the film and perhaps the performance itself. To this day, it still remains my favorite comic book film.
By the end of the decade, we would see the phenomenal Mystery Men, based on the team of superheroes from the pages of Flaming Carrot (it was a shame that we didn't get to see him), just in time to witness the coming age of superheroes and spandex. As the sage Jason Lee said in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, "Well, after X-Men hit at the box office, all the studios started buying up every comic property they could get their hands on." Naturally, independent comics were no different. Spandex was on in full force, but so were the more outlandish themes and denizens of the comic world. Few can blame filmmakers and fans alike for wanting to make Alan Moore's work into films, but apparently a curse is laced within each book (after all, Moore is a dabbler in black magic), as those films that have seen light did nothing to emulate the books they were derived from. From Hell was the first of several, with a promising team in Johnny Depp and the infamous brothers Hughes. The film itself was certainly not horrible, but it was underwhelming, the first failure in a string of several, and unable to capture the true spirit of the genius writer.
Although The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, or the film more fondly (snicker) known as LXG (I hate acronyms, they're like tell-tale signs of laziness), is technically a DC book, I will take a moment to address it, as well as a few other Alan Moore works. LXG was the second and perhaps worst installment in the line of Alan Moore adaptations. Not unlike The Crow, The League was also a plagued production, only this time the film's troubles were due to clashing egos rather than tragic events. To be absolutely honest, I somewhat enjoyed League, but only when I had managed to absolutely throw out any attachment I had towards the comic series. Even so, that doesn't change the fact that The League was a regressive movie more along the films that dominated the 90s, geared towards big stars, bigger budgets, and outright ignoring the source material. By this time, we had thought that stage was over, although we did have Men In Black II in 2002. Constantine also flirts with such a formula, although it was the most enjoyable of the three. We have yet to see if Mr. Moore will continue his apathetic stance on the films based on his work (Moore has publicly stated he wants nothing to do with the films, sometimes even condemning the projects), and we also have yet to see if the curse will continue its path, with V for Vendetta well into works and Watchmen back in development hell. I, for one, am of the legions of fans of both these seminal works, simultaneously awaiting while dreading the films to be.
The high point of the decade so far may come as a departure from subject material considered mainstream in the world of comics. Even more than some of the other films mentioned so far, these were smart books, perhaps the crux of independent comicdom itself, lending its spirit to equally smart films. Ghost World and American Splendor are both quirky films with an equally quirky view of the lives of not extraordinary beings, but extraordinarily ordinary ones. Both Ghost World and American Splendor could be considered the very epitome of what an independent comic film should be, with both the very essence of independent comics in their subject material. Both films also had all of the intrinsic characteristics of the classic independent film, unlike their 90's predecessors. Actors instead of stars, bold filmmakers, low budgets, non-major studios, and just plain good stories. Critics and fans alike were just waiting for films like these, and they got them in spades. Since their releases in 2000 and 2003 respectively, both have mustered steady fan bases and been allowed tiers into the hallowed pantheon of the greatest comic to film adaptations.
Of course, even if you have a string of hits, you're bound to hit a miss, and although the decade was looking to be a strong one for independent comic films (it still is....), along came Bulletproof Monk. When I heard the concept for the Bulletproof Monk film, I was all but ecstatic. Having gone through my own Hong Kong phase, Chow Yun Fat was a personal hero, and Bulletproof Monk was a book that I had enjoyed. For those who have seen the end product, or catastrophe that was Bulletproof Monk, I don't think I really have to elaborate, but for those of you who haven't, I'll spare a moment. In my mind, I don't imagine that Bulletproof Monk was developed with the most noble of intents. With Hong Kong films and wire-fu the "in" thing at the box office, it would seem that the folks at MGM thought they too would cash in on the trend, and who better than Chow Yun Fat, three years off Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, to spearhead their effort? Plus, the movie was based on a comic, so they'd have the best of both worlds! Best of no worlds is more like it... Had Bulletproof Monk been treated with the integrity that it deserves, the material and cast had the potential to be not only a great comic film, but also a great martial arts film. Instead, we were given the typical CG-effects laden, late night wire-fu cable fodder complete with juvenile one-liners and half-assed choreography (I'm shocked to learn that Corey Yuen, most recently known for The Transporter, had anything to do with this film). Man, everyone involved with that one has to be shaking their heads.
But then came Alien Vs. Predator.
For a moment there, I was tempted to leave it at that one sentence. Two properties that I hold very dear to my heart are Aliens Vs. Predator and Biohazard, better known as Resident Evil. These two properties had the potential to be adapted into what could have been the best genre films in cinema history, yet such dreams were crushed by the same man, Paul W. Anderson. I honestly don't know how studios went from the likes of George Romero, Ridley Scott, and James Cameron, to Paul Anderson. Ever since the two movie monsters first clashed in the Dark Horse comic in 1989, and we saw that Xenomorph's skull on the Yautja's trophy wall in Predator 2, fans have been clamoring for a film, having to abide with numerous comics, novels, and video games. The formula behind the series, the trinity of the Aliens, Predators, and Colonial Marines, was so successful that it even served as the basis for such properties as the Blizzard game, Starcraft. It was a formula that held cinema gold, and one that Paul Anderson simply chose to neglect. Instead of holding a science fiction who's who by bringing in Ahnold, Sigourney Weaver, and Michael Biehn to reprise their most memorable roles, Anderson chose to pen his own script, disregarding most of the material set before him. The results were nothing short of catastrophic. Thankfully, this one atrocity had little to do with the general flow of independent comic films.
Although infinitely better, and incredibly well-received, Hellboy was another film that I met with mixed feelings. Hellboy was a fundamentally good film, one that was liked by comic fans, movie critics, and general film-goers alike, which of course is no small feat in itself. But as a stark fan of the book, I found that the comic was one that just didn't translate well onto the screen. I recognized that director Guillermo del Toro, responsible for one of the better comic films in recent history in Blade II, was a fan of the series, and understood the material, and more importantly the character (del Toro had to pass on the last Blade film to direct Hellboy). Despite that, he had made the wrong decision in continuing the look and vein of Blade, instead of taking Hellboy in a different artistic direction. Even though Hellboy's roots are the pulp background of early film, and would have benefited immensely from cinematography emulating that style, del Toro chose to go for something more decidedly modern. The result is a film that looks more like Men in Black than The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. The film was successful, and was also enjoyable (Lord knows del Toro or anyone else could have shot that particular property down the toilet), and has warranted a sequel. Even though Hellboy, and most likely, the sequel are not the films that I would have liked to have seen, they are certainly favorable signs that AVP was just a momentary lapse, instead of an omen of things to come.
Boy were we in for a surprise this year. Although the quality of superhero spandex films was violently fluctuating, independent comic films showed no signs of slowing down the continual momentum they had been building during the past few years. Even so, none of us could have known that the mother of all independent comic films was looming over the horizon and just waiting to knock us flat on our ass like a combat boot drop kick straight through the windshield of a police cruiser. Sin City. One of the few Holy Grails of independent comics, and a property many had sought to bring to the silver screen. It would be movie maverick Robert Rodriguez who would have the vision to adapt such a book, not only with the blessings of Frank Miller (who had been set on never allowing a film adaptation), but also to respect Miller enough to bring him in as an equal partner. In the hands of its original creator and a skillful filmmaker who adored the property, Sin City became an unprecedented visceral tour de force, two booze-drenched hours that played like a slap in the face.
The irony of the comic book film adaptation, in most cases, is undeniable. While the independent comic revolves around the telling of the story, humble outings that are quiet existences within the conglomerate machine of the comic industry, the film adaptations which they birth are anything but. With small fanbases that come hand in hand with less opposition, negotiations over creative leeway and character rights with lone creators as opposed to massive corporations, and less recognition that allows for more upside, an independent property can be the ideal Hollywood summer blockbuster. Of course, this is not always the case. Sometimes, only sometimes, we will be blessed with the right director, who was equally blessed to have fallen in love with a little-known book. Sometimes, just sometimes, that director will be fortunate enough to meet the right people who can help him bring that book that he loves, that very vision to theatres. If that isn't magic my friends, I have no idea what is. Either way, whether it be your typical popcorn fare, or your very atypical but very personal story, or the occasional wild card in the form of an 1:1 presentation, there will always be an alternative for the comic fix that you crave... only without the tights. And we wouldn't have it any other way.
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If Seth Kim had had his way, Barb Wire would be kept in the section of the video store which you need ID in order to enter.
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The opinions expressed in this column are solely those of the writer, and are not reflective of Comixfan or its other staff in general.