Geek Week

It’s Vonnegut Week on my blog, but it’s GEEK WEEK over on

BSG Season 4

Addendum to the previous post:

Please use your combined psychic powers to implant the following thought into the mind of Ron Moore:

Scene opens, moving past planets that looks suspiciously like Saturn, Jupiter, Mars…

Earth comes into view on a slow approach, music begins.

Past the moon, the music swells.

Through the clouds, build to crescendo.

Zoom tight to coastline, where the Statue of Liberty - buried to her waste in sand - comes into view. A lone man in a loin cloth pounds the beach with his fists, and yells at the heavens.

Roll credits.

This will save the show. I promise.

The mustache of broken dreams.

The finale for Season 3 of Battlestar Galactica aired last night. Like just about everyone else I’ve heard from, I was underwhelmed.

This season started in an amazingly strong fashion, with the remnants of humanity embroiled in a guerilla conflict in Ira- er… on New Caprica. Meanwhile, in space, Apollo got fat and Adama grew an awesome mustache. Then Galactica belly-flopped into the atmosphere and rescued the humans from the Cylon occupation, Adama shaved off his mustache and… well… it was kind of downhill from there.

Yes, the emotional high-point of the season came three weeks in with a dramatic shaving scene. What followed was a series of progressively less-engrossing episodes that slowly turned what had been the Best Thing on Television into a cut-rate version of JAG. Low points included:

  • The complete “reboot” of the previous season’s narrative progress.
  • The Cylon base ship apparently consisting of an series of bathtubs filled with tapioca pudding, a few strings of Christmas lights, a rotating bed from a Vegas honeymoon suite and a collection of decorative water sculptures stolen from a local Feng Shui boutique.
  • The arbitrary and terrible boxing episode.
  • The arbitrary and terrible Sagittaron episode.
  • The show turning into a soap opera, with “marriage is hard” becoming a dominant theme.
  • The show spiralling further into awfulness by turning from a soap opera into a mediocre (and EXTREMELY preachy) morality play/legal drama.
  • And many more!

Nevertheless, when last night’s episode started, I had high hopes that we’d at least get a decent cliff to hang from as we headed into the off-season. And I’ll admit, things STARTED strong as the show opened on a shot of Admiral Adama shaving. The lack of bagpipe music should’ve been warning enough, but I was feeling optimistic, so I ignored it.

What followed was a painful hour of astonishingly predictable “payoffs.” Literally, every major plotline progressed in exactly the most obvious and uninspired fashion possible. Every character that had been struggling “came around.” The least surprising explanation for every “mystery” was provided.

Now, I’m hoping that what’s happened is that we’ve been handed a big, stinky pile of red herring to gnaw on between now and Season Four (which will begin airing in JANUARY OF NEXT YEAR). We’re all so very clever with our guessing and our armchair scripting that they decided to just shovel a ton of misleading nonsense at us as punishment.

If that turns out to be the case, then I suppose there’s a good chance of things turning around and BSG returning to the good graces of geeks everywhere, but it’s a HUGE risk to be taking. After all, we’ll now have over NINE MONTHS to allow the bitter taste of Season Three to percolate, poisoning our minds and twisting us ever closer to the point where we just stop caring.

As penance, I think they should be forced to bring back Fat Apollo. And give him an awesome mustache.

Ghost Rider

I’ll admit it. I had no intention of seeing Ghost Rider in a theater.

I read the first twenty or so issues of the early-90s revamp of the comic growing up and recall it being - at best - mediocre. Lots of lame vampires and goofy government conspiracies and gibberish and whining from the main character. Its 1970s antecedent always seemed even worse. In short, I have no great love for the character and was having a hard time getting at all excited about seeing it on the Silver Screen.

Still, there was my geek cred to consider.

The only major comic films I’ve not seen are Elektra and Catwoman (which BARELY counts). I’ve sat through the Dolph Lundgren Punisher, the Sci Fi Channel’s version of Man-thing, the 1991 Captain America and even Roger Corman’s ashcan Fantastic Four. I never complained (much). In short, it takes some doing to keep me away from comic-based films.

So I knew I’d see Ghost Rider eventually. My secret plan had been to wait for the DVD to slide into the discount bin later this year and then watch it in the darkest, latest hours of the night when no one was around to bear witness to my humiliating viewing habits. It would then have been hidden away in my DVD Collection of Shame - home to the likes of Last Action Hero and Nothing But Trouble.

But then The Company intervened and treated us all to a late-afternoon showing earlier today. And I am the better for having seen it.

Much to my surprise, Ghost Rider is… well… not that bad. It’s not a Batman Begins, a Spider-man 2 or even a Daredevil (Director’s Cut, of course) for that matter, but it’s a fun movie. Catch a matinée and you won’t have wasted your money. It’s worth the price of daytime admission just to see the crazy special effects.

As for the rest of it, the best way to describe the movie is this:

Ghost Rider is like the most absurdly decadent cheesecake imaginable. 3,000 calories per slice, slathered in six kinds of sugary syrup, topped with a mountain of whipped cream. You shouldn’t spend a ton of time taking in stuff like this, but every now and then it’s okay to let go of all of your better judgment and just chow down on something this ridiculous.

The folks who put this movie together pretty obviously decided that they would not shy away from cliché. In fact, it seems like they decided that they would actively pursue clichés whenever and wherever possible. Intrepid reporter love interest? Check. “Wacky” side kick? Check. Mean cops with hearts of gold? Check. Grizzled old wise man? Check and a HALF. Peter Fonda in a motorcycle film? Check!

The plot deliberately avoids any pretense of cleverness or intrigue. It excavates the inner-fourteen year old in its audience, locks onto what that creature wants and just keeps feeding it exactly that. The movie is so laser-precise in its delivery of juvenile delights, that I actually got chills on a couple of occasions.

At the end of the day, Ghost Rider might be the best B-movie of all time. On top of that considerable achievement, it also deserves applause for having so dramatically improved upon its source material.

The original Ghost Rider started out as a Daredevil villain who was supposed to be called the Stunt-Master:

I had made up a character as a villain in Daredevil - a very lackluster character - called Stunt-Master. I took the name from Simon & Kirby’s Stuntman, but I made him a motorcyclist. Anyway, when Gary Friedrich started writing Daredevil, he said, “Instead of Stunt-Master, I’d like to make the villain a really weird motorcycle-riding character called Ghost Rider.”

- Ghost Rider creator Roy Thomas

The creators decided to give the character a costume similar to the outfit Elvis Presley wore in his 1968 comeback special (which, of course, explains Nicolas Cage’s interest in the character) and a flaming skull.

Ghost Rider debuted in Marvel Spotlight #5 in the summer of 1972:

Marvel Spotlight #5

So we’ve got Elvis Presley with a flaming skull on a motorcycle. Not the WORST start a character could have, but it’s certainly not (despite Marvel’s prediction of the character’s inevitable legendary status) a slam-dunk beginning.

While the Ghost Rider in the film has a fairly sympathetic origin - a hero damned by sorrow and bad luck - the Johnny Blaze of the comics is… well… pretty much an idiot. Faced with the impending death of his adopted father, Blaze comes to the following obvious conclusion:

Wait... SATAN?

Ah yes, SATAN. Superman has our yellow sun. Batman has his free-weights/crippling psychosis. Spider-man has his radioactive spider-bite. And Ghost Rider has his… eh… heroic reliance on the Prince of Darkness in times of need. But let’s just chock all of that up to Stan Lee’s early-70s obsession with getting Satan into comics somehow.

Folks who see the movie may be potentially disappointed by the rather weak and indecipherable rules that seem to dictate the powers and behavior of the metaphysical elements of Ghost Rider’s world. But if you think the end of the film is a tad uninspiring, take a look at what the writers had to work with.

As the comic book Ghost Rider makes his way through his first adventure, he is - of course - double-crossed by the Devil. When Satan subsequently confronts Johnny Blaze with his fate (”walking the earth as Satan’s emissary in the dark hours… and in the light… JOINING HIM IN HADES!!!”), we’re given a delightful deus ex machina in place of any sort of satisfying conclusion:

Never underestimate the Devil-busting power of a Good Woman.

Yes, the purity of the heart of young Roxanne - his romantic interest/ADOPTED SISTER - is more powerful that the Devil’s contract with Blaze. Despite the fact that she’s basically been a turbo-bitch to Johnny through the whole story so far, she manages to dive in just in time to save our hero at the last moment with her surprising knowledge of Satan’s one weakness. And in case you were thinking that there wasn’t a PERFECTLY REASONABLE explanation for this:

Hold me, my beloved plot device!

SEE? She read his… uh… books on Satan. Clearly, there’s an origin story for Johnny Blaze that is WAAAAAY more interesting than the one the writers chose to present us.

So cut the folks who came up with the Ghost Rider screenplay some slack. The version they gave us is Citizen Kane compared to the original. Yes, the film is cheesy. But so is 3,000-calorie-per-slice cheesecake and - like cheesecake - Ghost Rider is a guilty sort of delicious.


Sometimes, we get so full of nerd-energy, that we need a place to safely discharge it so we don’t wind up ranting and raving at our friends, coworkers and loved ones.

This is one of those places.

Primarily, this is a dumping-ground for the rambling nerdiness of Josh Drescher. This will mostly involve late-night comic “reviews” (by which I mean half-considered rantings) but might eventually involve some sort of other stuff.

And maybe some other authors some day, assuming I can trick them into writing.