Tag Archives: Eric Robert Nolan

“This Windy Morning,” by Eric Robert Nolan

“This Windy Morning, by Eric Robert Nolan

The gales cry,
their sounds rise,
so strangely like
the wailing of children.
The gales
have ripped a rift in purgatory.

Along the low hill’s haze
and indistinct palette of grays,
the thinning slate shapes
are either columns of rain,
or a quorum of waifish wraiths.

Condemned but inculpable
are those little figures —
long ago natives maybe — in an ironic,
insufficient sacrament:
this obscuring rain’s
parody of baptism.

If that faultless chorus
should never see heaven,
they will ever be wind without end
their lamentations ever
shrill within rare
arriving spring downpours.
Always will the squall
imprison their calls.

You and I should refrain
any temptation to breach
these palisades of rain —
lest we be greeted by each
iron-colored countenance:
the sorrowing slim nickel
of an infant’s visage,
little boys’ graying faces,
the silvering eyes of the girls.

© 2017 Eric Robert Nolan

[Note: I began writing this yesterday morning, which was, at a sensory level, just like the fictional morning described.  Southwest Virginia indeed has some unique weather, affected, as I’m told, by its sprawling mountain ranges.  (They circle the Roanoke metro area.)

The rain yesterday was abrupt and shrieking.  I posted on social media that I’d experienced “that eerie moment when the wind sounds strangely like the wailing of children.”  So hence the poem that I finished (?) tonight.  I think a lot of my friends will find it funny; they certainly were laughing at my poet’s melodrama yesterday.  One said it was a nice turn of phrase, too — and that it could be the start of a story.

I’ve never written what I’ve considered a “horror poem” before.  (“The Writer” in 2013 was never intended as such, anyway.)  But the genre is alive and well, at least in the small presses.  Horror poetry is frequently requested in the calls for submissions you can find on Facebook’s various “Open Calls” pages, anyway.  (And if you’re an indie writer, those pages are great to peruse anyway.)

I hope you enjoyed the piece.]

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Photo credit: By Huhu Uet (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons.

A baffled review of “Lucy” (2014)

Everything you’ve heard about “Lucy” (2014) is correct — it’s exactly as trite and nonsensical as its multitude of unfavorable reviews have described it.  Maybe this was intended as some sort of weird, meta, inside joke by writer and director Luc Besson … after all, it’s a movie about increased “brain capacity” that is, ironically, really dumb.

I can’t imagine why Scarlett Johansson and Morgan Freeman would sully their reputations by starring in this film.  Although, sadly, even the wonderful Johansson is not at her best here.  She seems to try to portray increased intelligence by delivering some of her lines like a robot.  (Seriously, she reads some of her lines like a speedy automaton, and it’s a bad creative decision for her performance.)

I could go on and on about the silly things in this movie.  So could you, if you’ve seen it.  But it’s a lot more fun listening to the surly wise-asses over at Cinema Sins.  Their trademark “Everything Wrong With” video for “Lucy” is particularly harsh.  At one point they call it “an aggressive dickhead of a movie.”  Here’s the link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i3rZmnJ66Po

There is one overriding problem I need to address myself … and that’s how its premise seems to relate so little to the events of the story.  We begin by understanding that the titular Lucy is affected by a drug that increases her brain capacity.  Before the movie reaches its halfway mark, she appears to gain omniscience.  (She doesn’t need to actually learn anything — she simply knows virtually everything already.  This is evinced by her ability to translate foreign languages instantly, with no books or instruction at all.)  She also appears omnipotent by the film’s end.  Her powers become literally godlike.  And I’m not talking about Thor or Odin from the Marvel Cinematic Universe — we’re talking the all-powerful,  Old Testament God of Abraham.

Why?  Why should increased intelligence, no matter how incredibly vast, give her power of matter, space and even time?  If she were as smart as a thousand Stephen Hawkings, she still shouldn’t be able to do the things she does in the movie.

Believe it or not, I’d rate this movie a 4 out of 10.  (That’s far kinder than the other reviews I’ve read.)  I managed to have fun with this movie by rewriting some of it in my head while I watched.  Instead of Lucy benefiting from a drug that increases her brain capacity (which borrows a bit from 2011’s excellent “Limitless,” anyway), I pretended that I was watching a movie in which Scarlett Johansson became God.  (Think of 2003’s “Bruce Almighty.”)  Honestly.  I swapped out the plot device in my head, and imagined a different movie.  That made it fun — watching Scarlett Johansson as a wrathful God was strangely satisfying, especially when she wreaks havoc on the bad guys.

And speaking of bad guys … that is actually one thing that this otherwise clueless movie manages to get right.  No, I’m not kidding — the Taipei gangsters that serve as the story’s antagonists were performed to perfection by their actors.  The villains were repulsive and terrifying, and they aroused more interest in me than the good guys.  Min-sik Choi was terrific as the homicidal patriarch of the Taiwanese crime syndicate.  Even better, though, was Nicolas Phongbeth as the cherubic-faced, vaguely androgynous, sociopathic lieutenant.  If they were vanquished in this brainless movie, it’d be nice to see them resurrected in a James Bond film or a season of Fox’s “24.”  It’s weird seeing a movie so bad do one important thing so successfully.

There are really only two reasons why anybody should see “Lucy.”  One is morbid curiosity.  Two is if they are a learning to be a screenwriter, and are looking for a feature-length example of what NOT to do.

 

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“I don’t want to wait / For our lives to be over …”

No matter how many letters I write to Hollywood, I’m still waiting on that “Wolf Creek”/”Dawson’s Creek” crossover movie.

I’m starting to worry it might not happen.

 

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Throwback Thursday: the Launch of Image Comics (1992)

I talked about Todd McFarlane’s “Spawn” in last week’s Throwback Thursday post; these are some very early issues of a few of Image Comics’ other titles when the company launched in 1992.  I remember snapping them up in earnest when I was 19 years old — as I said last week, it was exciting for a comics fan to see a new company challenge the “Big Two,” Marvel Comics and DC Comics, with a new superhero universe.

I and other ambitious collectors also grabbed these off the shelves because we naively expected they all would one day be very valuable.  (Investing in comic books is a little more complicated than that — they’ve generally got to be in extremely good condition to fetch high prices.)

The first Image comics were a mix of good and bad.  If memory serves, Jim Lee’s “WildC.A.T.s” was very good; Rob Liefeld’s “Youngblood” was less so, but was at least interesting.  The art and writing for Jim Valentino’s “Shadowhawk” was truly mediocre.  That didn’t stop me from buying a few issues, though — the novelty of these new books just gave them too much appeal.

There were a lot of creative things going on with early Image titles.  Some of the new characters were pretty neat.  I remember being partial to Youngblood’s “Diehard” for some reason, along with the WildC.A.T.s’ “Grifter.”  (The former has the red, white, and blue full bodysuit; the latter has the trenchcoat and pistols.)  And I definitely liked WildC.A.T.s’ “Warblade.”  He’s the guy below with the ponytail and the shape-changing, liquid-metal hands.  He was a favorite of mine despite the fact that he seemed to borrow a trick or two from the newly iconic liquid-metal terminator.  (“Terminator 2: Judgement Day” had hit theaters a year earlier.)

Image comics were quite different than those produced by Marvel and DC.  (As I explained last week, Image was formed by artists who revolted against their prior employers’ unfair, work-for-hire payment policies — their new company gave them complete creative control over their characters.)  Despite the popularity of Image’s new books, however, they sometimes appeared to have been developed without some needed editorial oversight.

The violence and gore was often far more graphic.  And Image’s creative decisions ranged from the inspired to the strange to just being in questionable taste.  (It all depended on your disposition, I guess.)  WildC.A.T.s, for example, portrayed Vice President Dan Quayle as being possessed by an unearthly “Daemonite.”  (Damn, those Daemonites were wicked-cool bad guys, and Lee Illustrated them beautifully.)  Shadowhawk’s signature move was breaking the spines of criminals.  He was also HIV-positive, the result of some gangsters’ reprisal — they captured him and injected him with infected blood.  The character thereafter spent some of his history trying in vain to locate a cure for AIDS.  (This was 1992, just after the epidemic became fully entrenched in the public’s anxieties in the 1980’s.)

My interest in these titles eventually waned, though I did still pick “Spawn” up when I had the money.  The Image universe was densely crowded with new characters, and it was just too much information to sustain my interest.  (Seriously, look at the first couple of covers below.)  I spent far more money on DC’s various “Batman” and “Green Lantern” titles.  And if I wanted edgy comics, I had discovered the various incarnations of Matt Wagner’s “Grendel” that were available through Dark Horse Comics.  Those boggled the mind.

But Image comics did burgeon into a great success, even if these early titles have since been retired.  “Spawn,” of course, is still being produced.  And today the company’s wide range of books includes Robert Kirkman’s “The Walking Dead.”  It’s hard to imagine either of the Big Two picking up Kirkman’s gory epic masterpiece … so I suppose we have Image to thank for the TV show.

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Stop by The Bees Are Dead.

If you haven’t caught up with The Bees Are Dead lately, now is a good time to do so.  B.A.D. featured a particularly potent piece today by Stephen Jarrell Williams, “In the Desert.”  It’s a surprisingly effective poem despite its deceptively simple language, and I recommend it highly.

You can also find an outstanding example of prose poetry in Darren C. Demaree’s “Trump as a Fire Without Light #86.”  (This is actually one of my favorite poems submitted to B.A.D. so far, and I have no doubt that many readers both here in America and abroad will relate to its poignant social commentary.)

Be sure to peruse Wren Tuatha’s “The Trees Tell Our Future” too.  It’s a beautifully evocative poem that has stayed with me long after I read it for the first time.

Towers Shopping Center, Roanoke, Virginia

Clearly this shopping center lies along the path of The Beam.

Only Stephen King fans will get that joke.

There are at least two cool places to grab lunch there — McAlister’s Deli and Firehouse Subs.  Unless I’m mistaken, we don’t have those chains in New York.

 

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A review of “The Walking Dead” Season 7.

[THIS REVIEW CONTAINS GENERAL, MINOR SPOILERS FOR SEASON 7 OF “THE WALKING DEAD.”]  I loved Sunday’s season finale of “The Walking Dead” — it was well executed, well performed (especially by Andrew Lincoln), and well written.  It was even beautifully scored.  (The closing narration and montage, combined with the music, were surprisingly moving.)  It had some great twists, unexpectedly good CGI, and some nice callbacks to the original comics.  (One surprise we see actually occurs with respect to another major character in the books.)  Towards the end of the episode, I was riveted.

The finale, however, can’t really redeem Season 7 as a whole.  I would honestly rate the season a 7 out of 10.  This was definitely one of the lesser seasons; I believe it would be the one I liked the least, if not for the inexplicably poor Season 2.

Maybe I was a little grumpy about “The Walking Dead” even before the season started.  Like a lot of viewers, I felt that the “cliffhanger” where Season 6 left off was absolutely manipulative on the part of the writers.  It pissed me off, and I went into Season 7 with reservations.

Then I was reminded about some of the smaller complaints I had about the show in the past.  I strongly differ with my friends about this show’s character development — I think it’s inconsistent at best.  And “The Walking Dead” seems to have so many characters that it can’t seem to decide who is a major character and who is not.

There’s a bit too much cheesy melodrama, like the schoolyard dynamics among the good kids, Maggie and Jesus, and the meanie, Gregory.  (This subplot was drawn from the comics, too — but it played out there in a far more adult fashion.)

Then I had a new quibble or two — one was a lack of proper minimal exposition.  We know extremely little about Jadis and the survivors in the garbage dump, despite the major role they play in the story.  They seem … sort of like a cult, and sort of like a performance art group, but that’s all I could tell you about them.  (The Internet tells me that some fans refer to them as either “the Heapsters” or “the Garbage Pail Kids.”  I find both appellations pretty funny.)

My biggest complaints about Season 7, however, were that it was too much of a downer, and that it was too slow.

We start the season with a front seat to Negan’s gory, merciless punishment of Rick’s de facto family.  And then the victimization of our favorite characters simply … continues for the length of the season, until the last episode’s climax.  You see that cool image at the bottom of this blog post?  The advertisement depicting bad-ass Rick and his allies getting ready to “RISE UP?”  (It actually looks a lot like the posters for the “Walking Tall” films.)  Well … we don’t see much of that until the final episode. I told one friend that “The Walking Dead” was disappointing me because it had grown tiresome “seeing Negan beat everyone all the time.”

And some episodes felt like filler.  Yes, there were some nice “milieu” -type stories — it was actually a lot of fun expanding the show’s world, to see other settlements, like The Kingdom, The Sanctuary and Oceanside.  But I think the plot needed to move forward more quickly.  (For a far better discussion of these issues, check out Ryan Roschke’s excellent review over at Popsugar.)

Hey … I’m still a fan.  I’m just not as satisfied a fan as I used to be.  I certainly looked forward to “The Walking Dead” every week, and never missed an episode.

And this season did have its high points.  Dwight emerged as quite an interesting, compelling character, thanks in no small measure to Austine Amelio’s portrayal of him.  The character interaction among him, Daryl, Negan and Rick is great stuff — I find myself wishing that the lion’s share of the season was devoted to those four.  I am finally starting to understand that Norman Reedus is indeed a really good actor — his performances were strong throughout the entire season, but must notably upon his return to Alexandria and his embrace with Rick.

And there were moments of nice action and horror as well — the sand-buried walkers pursuing Tara and Health spring to mind, not to mention the neat trick Rick and his group use to dispatch an entire herd of zombies on the interstate.

Let’s hope that Season 8 will pick up a bit, now that “war” is underway.

 

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“Red Hill Mining Town?”

This is a shot of the red clay found around the Roanoke area.  It’s an acidic soil that’s common around the southeastern United States; sciencey types call it a “ultisol.”  The rust color results from … actual rust, if I understand correctly.  It’s full of iron oxide.

I don’t think my camera phone does it justice — it’s actually redder than it appears below.  I have no doubt Roanoke natives hardly notice it, but it looks strange at first to a carpetbagger.

 

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Season 1 of “Westworld” was fantastic.

The premise for HBO’s “Westworld” sounds like a bad situation comedy — robot cowboys entertain the rich at a futuristic theme park.  There are showdowns and shootouts, and hilarity ensues when the guests fall in love with the coy robot ladies.

But “Westworld” is an arguably brilliant serial science fiction thriller, far transcending its gimmicky central plot contrivance.  It is occasionally weighted down by some challenges with pacing, story structure and exposition.  But I still loved it enough to get hooked on it immediately, and I’d give it a 9 out of 10.

I think it’s the smartest science fiction show I’ve seen in a long time.  Its brilliance doesn’t stem from its kitsch premise.  (I haven’t seen the original 1973 film based on Michael Crichton’s screenplay, but I’ve seen it lampooned at least once.)  It generally doesn’t extend from the show’s many twists and surprises, however well executed they are.  Nor does it stem from the show’s ambitious discussions of the nature of consciousness.

Its brilliance, in my opinion, stems from its nuanced and surprisingly disturbing depiction of human evil.  Of course there’s the obvious — the theme park exposes human depravity by allowing people to rob, rape and murder lifelike human surrogates with impunity.  But there is far more that the show has to say.  To get a sense of it, you have to watch the entire 10-episode season, and see several key character arcs reach completion.  One of these arcs was so dark and cruelly contemplative that it’s stayed with me long after I watched the final episode.

The show is well made at every level.  It’s gorgeously shot, at locations throughout California, Utah and Arizona.  The special effects are great.  Anthony Hopkins is characteristically perfect as the park’s patriarch, and Jeffrey Wright is terrific as his well meaning right hand.  (That actor is starting to grow on me.)  The entire cast is quite good — even those in relatively minor roles, like the two hapless technicians (nicely portrayed by Leonardo Nam and Ptolemy Slocum) who become entangled in the events connected with the park’s malfunctions.

Ed Harris, however, consistently steals the show as “the Man in Black,” a park guest who vacations as a brutal rapist and murderer (and who we learn has another agenda, as well).  He’s chilling.  I never really saw Harris as an amazing actor before, despite seeing him in many roles, including his memorable turn in “A Beautiful Mind” (2001).  But he was incredible here.

I wanted to give this show a perfect 10, but even someone who loves it as much as I do can see the weaknesses of this first season.  Overall, “Westworld” is sometimes too drawn out.  I feel the plot moves forward rather slowly, and I think Season 1 would be perfect if only it were carefully edited down from ten to maybe seven episodes.  I found myself getting a little frustrated by the the fifth episode, when we see two major characters follow arcs that seem redundant.  (I’m being intentionally vague here to avoid spoilers.)

The problem is compounded by the deliberately superficial nature of “Westworld’s” setting.  This is a theme park with stereotypical stock characters associated with Hollywood westerns.  Accordingly, its inhabitants have overly stylized speech and behavior.  Furthermore, these androids are programmed to follow the same “loops” repeatedly, as the same preconceived story “narratives” are reused to entertain new patrons of the park.

It gets annoying.  Yes, I know it makes perfect sense and is necessary in the context of the story.  But it can be grating to someone who tunes in to see a science fiction show, and not a cheesy western.  James Marsden is a decent enough actor, and he’s well cast as “Westworld’s” prototypical “good guy” cowboy.  But seeing this character’s shtick over and over was irritating.  So, too, were the sassy ladies at the brothel and some other minor characters.

Finally, I suggest that, for some viewers, “Westworld” may be hard to follow.  I occasionally found it that way.  There are twists that are wonderfully well crafted, gradually deciphered mysteries, and a very layered backstory.  Finally, the show’s discussions of things like consciousness, morality and artificial intelligence can sometimes border on the didactic.  (It helps a hell of a lot, though, when the actor delivering the exposition is the priceless Hopkins.)  It’s a lot to take in.  People tuning in should be prepared for some challenging, cerebral science fiction instead of easily digested, escapist fantasy.

All in all, this show was superb.  If you’re a science fiction fan, you need to at least give it a try.

Unnecessary postscript: actor Jimmi Simpson sure looks a hell of a lot like a young Christian Slater.

 

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Because I worked hard for that doctorate.

The off-brand knock-off of Dr. Pepper is named “Dr. Perky” and, for some reason, that is very, very sad.

One of my Mary Washington College alums suggested that “Dr. Pervy” would be a catchier name, but I’m already using that for my Match.com profile name.

Do I LOOK any perkier?  I’m feeling more chagrined that I bought a 12 pack of this, even if it was only $2.35.  It tastes like water, sugar, and just a touch of peppermint-flavored cough syrup.

 

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