THE GRAND SUPERHERO OPERA

SPIDER-MAN UNLIMITED (1999-2001)

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *cosmological, sociological*

I remember watching the short-lived broadcast of the first few UNLIMITED episodes, and I didn't mourn when the show got the axe early, only getting the remainder of its installments aired a year or two later. I thought it was silly to take an earthbound crusader like Spider-Man and stick him in an otherworldly situation. Now that I've re-watched the show on streaming, I still don't think it's very good. Yet I've seen so many routine Spider-programs with him swinging around New York that the SF-route has a little more appeal now.

The otherworld here is a Marvel Comics creation, Counter-Earth, a near-duplicate of regular Earth that exists on the far side of Sol. In the comics, the High Evolutionary, a genius scientist first introduced in the pages of THOR, decides to play God by bringing Counter-Earth into being with his resources. However, prior to doing so this cosmic creator also played Doctor Moreau, changing ordinary animals into intelligent beast-men. Some of the "beast-men" seek to destroy the scientist's creation. Fortuitously, a leftover Kirby character known only as "Him" happens to be around, and he decides to re-christen himself "Warlock" and to become the champion of Counter-Earth. The series, humorously tagged "Jesus Christ Superhero," did not succeed, though Warlock, the High Evolutionary and Counter-Earth continued to sustain other Marvel narratives.

In UNLIMITED, Counter-Earth has apparently always been on the other side of the sun, and the High Evolutionary and his beast-men are refugees from regular-Earth who take over Counter-Earth with their super-technology. (Naturally, the effects of the conquest are never seen outside of New York.) On regular-Earth, Spider-Man gets involved when astronaut John Jameson (son of irascible publisher J. Jonah) takes it upon himself to journey to the far side of the sun (note in-joke). Spidey sees two members of his rogues' gallery, the alien symbiotes Venom and Carnage, hitch a ride on Jameson's rocket, but the hero fails to stop them. Later, Spider-Man gets a ride to Counter-Earth on another rocket, and when he arrives, the hero learns that John Jameson has joined a motley crew of human freedom fighters, seeking to overthrow the tyranny of the beast-men. Spidey wants to get back to his Earth but can't do so until he rescues Jameson, which means lots of conflicts with not only the beast-men, but also various weird doppelgangers of Spider-Man villains. One is Jameson himself, who as in the comics transforms into the monstrous Man-Wolf once or twice. All of the others are natives to Counter-Earth, either costumed humans with technological gimmicks (goodguy versions of the Vulture and the Green Goblin) or beast-men with special powers (memorably, Electro played by a humanoid electric eel).

The thirteen episodes of the series don't provide enough space to develop the core concept, that of beast-people dominating the human world (though New York City pretty much goes on in the same way as before, even with a newspaper that employs photographer Peter Parker). The department of tossed-off ideas includes (1) the last-minute revelation that tuffgirl freedom-fighter Karen is the granddaughter of the High Evolutionary and one of his experiments, and (2) the attempt by a particular beast-woman, a rat-humanoid named Lady Vermin, to get jiggy with Spider-Man. (Technical bestiality in a Saban cartoon may be the show's greatest distinction!) Venom and Carnage don't really do all that much on Counter-Earth, except that they serve some leader called "the Synoptic," never revealed because the series ends on an unresolved cliffhanger.

Given my interest in crossovers, UNLIMITED plays host to a nice assortment. Despite all the reworked versions of Spider-villains, only one episode crosses over two of them: Electro and the Man-Wolf. The High Evolutionary and his beastie-buddies are all crossovers of a type since they don't normally belong in a Spider-Man narrative, and there's a sympathetic robotic hero who bears the designation "X-51," which is plainly a reference to Marvel's "Machine Man." Oh yeah, and Nick Fury briefly appears in a regular-Earth sequence.

It's a weird misfire of a series, but I must admit, even a botched concept can be more interesting than a routine one.

THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS PT. 1-2 (2012-13)

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *good*

FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*

CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological, psychological*

Frank Miller's 1986 graphic novel THE DARK KNIGHT RETURNS presents almost the same adaptation problems as the Moore-Gibbons WATCHMEN of the same year. Both graphic works presented highly idiosyncratic visions of the American superhero genre. Miller made direct use of Batman and a handful of other DC characters, while Moore and Gibbons used a group of DC-owned characters as a template for their otherwise original "Watchmen."

Given that both works were extraordinarily popular, one should expect that any adaptations would be required to follow the originals very scrupulously-- perhaps so scrupulously as to eradicate any chance for the adaptors to evince their own creativity. Such was the case in respect to the 2009 live-action adaptation of WATCHMEN.

The adaptation of TDKR has one advantage over the 2009 WATCHMEN. Since TDKR is animated, it's better able to emulate the idiosyncracies of the Frank Miller art than the live-action WATCHMEN could emulate its model.

Further, Miller's approach to his narrative was less "monumentalist" (in Nietzsche's sense of the word) than that of Moore-Gibbons. WATCHMEN is structured like a novel, or perhaps (to use one of Moore's repeated images) like the interdependent parts of a mechanical clock. Miller's narrative is more organic, alternating scenes full of tense, terse suspense with sudden outbreaks of chaos and violence. This form of narrative made it possible for director Jay Oliva and scripter Bob Goodman to keep the essential plotline of the graphic novel but also to improvise a bit more. I won't dwell on the improvised scenes except to say that none of them work as well as the corresponding scenes from Miller's narrative. However, none of the improvisations detract from the mordant, tough-as-titanium-nails story, so at least they do no harm. At most, the bisection of the narrative into two separate DVDs led the script for Part I to elide the continued presence of Superman, who's almost the only other costumed character still extant in Miller's world. Thus, the whole Superman subplot-- in which the Man of Steel has become the obedient puppet of the American government-- gets crammed into the 76 minutes of Part 2, instead of being worked into the first part and creating a proper sense of anticipation for the "titans' clash."

Only in respect do Oliva and his animators successfully go beyond what Miller did. Miller's visual narrative favors a "quick-cut" strategy, in which every panel quickly conveys some key information or insight. Even the two big fight-scenes from the novel's second part-- both involving Batman taking on the hulking "Leader of the Mutants"-- depend on quick cuts and close-ups, so that there is no space allotted for the involved fight-choreography characteristic of many superhero features. Oliva happily does not follow Miller in this approach, and instead gives the audience two well-choreographed punchups between the two bulky opponents.

The worst aspect of TDKR is that it backs off on Frank Miller's trademark hardboiled language. Anyone who hasn't read the GN may not notice the omissions, but the video will be horribly sanitized to anyone expecting fidelity to Miller's dialogue. For example, in the GN a Gotham citizen is asked by the media for his reaction on Batman returning to crimefighting after a ten-year absence. The citizen enthusiastically approves of Batman's return and hopes that "he goes after the homos next." The video uses the same citizen but reduces the character's line to something so bland that I don't even remember it. The video-producers probably feared that had they used Miller's original line, some pundits, much like those Miller satirizes, would have jumped on the video, accusing it of "gay-bashing" despite the fact that it's clearly meant to be an ironic condemnation of the person speaking it. But while the video's self-censorship makes good business sense, it nevertheless reduces the integrity of the story.

HERCULES AND THE PRINCESS OF TROY (1965)

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *sociological*

Without glossing over the fact that a lot of rinky-dink sword-and-sandal flicks came out of Italy, this Italian-American TV-pilot may be worse than most of them. One has to say this for the Italian makers of junky films: they almost never stinted on the action. Though the short movie (47 minutes) displays decent production values, the script seems to make every attempt to play down any potential for excitement. One can hardly believe that this was an early directorial effort by Albert Band, who at least turned out some decent time-wasters under the aegis of his producer-son Charles Band.

In Classical times Hercules was supposed to be dead by the time of the Trojan War, but here he's rubbing shoulders with Ulysses, a wise guy named Diogenes (probably not the philosopher), and a fellow with the un-Greek name of "Ortag." Had this become a regular TV show, Hercules and his buddies would have been sailing from place to place in their ship, "the Olympia," looking for wrongs to right.

For their first outing the heroes sail into Troy, and find that for many years the city has been menaced by a nearly invulnerable sea monster. To keep the creature from attacking the city, the locals have been chaining females sacrifices on the rocks near the coast, and now it's time for the city's reigning princess Diana (Diana Hyland) to give her all for her people. The basic imagery has been borrowed from the Andromeda myth, in which said princess is rescued by Perseus.

Since Hercules' battle with the monster-- something of a cross between a crab and a centipede-- will form the film's climax, the script has to kill time with some forgettable cloak-and-dagger plots, the introduction of a couple of invulnerable horses (who don't do anything), and Hercules getting trapped in a underground caisson. The battle with the monster is TROY's only selling-point, and since the creature FX (by Carlo Rambaldi) are very limited, this proves a letdown too. Gordon Scott shows off his usual quads and pecs but doesn't get a chance to put forth even the limited emoting seen in his other heroic roles.

FARSCAPE: THE PEACEKEEPER WARS (2004)

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTION: *cosmological, sociological*

The producers of the FARSCAPE series set up so many unresolved plotlines at the end of Season 4 that one assumes they thought a fifth season was a slam-dunk. The SYFY Channel did not renew the expensive series, but an earnest fan campaign encouraged the money-men to open their wallets just enough for this three-hour, two-part wrap-up.

While I was certainly glad to see all or most of the dangling plotlines resolved-- particularly the one with which Season 4, wherein both Crichton and Aeryn are vaporized-- the thing I noticed most about the wrap-up is that the characters don't spend most of the time yelling at one another. In my review of Season One, I observed that FARSCAPE could have easily been subtitled "Not STAR TREK." On the upside, this overall attitude kept the characters from descending into the platitudinous goody-goodness of the later TREK characters. On the downside, there was so much sturm and drang between the crew of the Moya that there was only rarely a sense of esprit d'corps, or even much of a sense that the characters even liked each other. But since the writers must have known that PEACEKEEPER could be the last hurrah of the FARSCAPE franchise-- which, as of this writing, it still is-- they seem to have bent over backward to make them more congenial to one another. Naturally, there's more bonding between Crichton and Aeryn once their molecules get reassembled and Aeryn gives birth to their child-- though, in between those two events, the child is accidentally transferred into the body of grouchy Rygel (easily the best-ever use of his role as comedy relief). D'Argo and Chiana rekindle their own romance, though it's one destined for a poignant doom, and though some characters are shown the door quickly-- Jool, who apparently dies but doesn't get a death-scene as such-- others, like Stark and Sikozu, get some minor defining arcs.

Since I was not a fan of having Scorpius join Moya's crew even on the most tentative status, I was pleased that here he's back with the power-hungry Peacekeepers, along with the ambitious Grayza. However, as the title says, war has erupted between the Peacekeepers and the Scarrans, and both groups pursue Moya with the aim of acquiring the wormhole knowledge from Crichton's brain.

The story does finally deliver on the long-deferred promise to reveal the Big Wormhole Secret, and it's thematically congruent with the series' frequently repeated criticism of centralized power (another point of departure from TREK). There's also an interesting exploration of the early history of the humanoid Peacekeepers, who became an authoritarian force after splitting off from their near relations, the Eidolons-- whose fundamental ability to negotiate proves crucial to Crichton's real destiny; to save the madding crowds of aliens from their own pride and selfishness.

After watching PEACEKEEPER, I was mildly regretful that the regular series hadn't managed to find a middle ground in their depiction of character conflict, wherein the vivid personas might have clashed while still showing amity and respect for one another. Nevertheless, the series was a good ride overall, and the wrap-up crossed the finish line in an exemplary fashion.

THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN (1974)

PHENOMENALITY: *uncanny*
MYTHICITY: *poor*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *adventure*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *psychological*

As I did in my review of THUNDERBALL, I reread the 1965 Fleming book prior to rescreening the 1974 adaptation.

I noted that the book and film versions of THUNDERBALL fell into my phenomenal category "the uncanny," for the main aspect they have in common is the use of the metaphenomenal trope "outre outfits skills and weapons," specifically weapons. I mentioned that the book version of villain Emilio Largo also conforms to the trope "freakish flesh" while the film version does not.

Both versions of GOLDEN GUN include the "flesh" trope, even if its manifestation is pretty nugatory: villain Scaramanga has a third nipple. Both in book and movie this detail failed to impress me very much, probably because it isn't front and center, like Ernst Blofeld's "doll-like eyes." The filmic Scaramanga takes on slightly more mythic dimensions than the literary one, not because of his freakiness but because he's essayed by horror-film great Christopher Lee.

The literary Scaramanga, despite Fleming's attempts to make him a "shadow version" of James Bond, complete with gun-and-sex fetishes, didn't grab me. He's not a master schemer, merely a skilled assassin who becomes involved in a plot to ruin U.S. sugar futures-- a plot initiated by the KGB, thus bringing Bond, in his last novel, back into conflict with the sort of Cold War enemies he faced in CASINO ROYALE. Scaramanga seems a small-timer, even though he does play at psychological torture at one point, deceiving Bond into thinking his gal-pal Mary Goodnight is about to be run over by a train. (Shades of bygone silent serials!)

The only "outre weapons" in the novel appear at the beginning. In a continuation from YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE, Bond has been brainwashed by the Russians and sent back to MI-5 to kill M. To this end, brainwashed-Bond smuggles a cyanide-spraying gun past security. M counters with a bizarre defense: a glass wall that slams down in time to project him from the spray. After that, when Bond has been rehabilitated and sent on a new mission in jig-time, only conventional weapons are used. Admittedly there's a touch of bizarreness in the fact that Scaramanga favors gold or silver bullets for his murders. He also coats a bullet meant for Bond with snake poison, so in a way Bond attempts poisoning and gets poisoned in return-- even though Bond survives and Scaramanga does not.

The GOLDEN GUN film steps up the "outre weapons" trope somewhat by giving Scaramanga his own private island with a "funhouse" in which he and his armed prey may stalk one another. The deadly funhouse is an amusing touch but I've seen it done much better elsewhere, particularly certain episodes of TV's WILD WILD WEST.

In the book, even though Scaramanga isn't that fascinating a personality, Fleming does at least expend effort on compiling a psychological profile, including a strange Freudian trauma in which Scaramanga becomes invested in casual killing after the death of his favorite circus-elephant. It's not all that deep, but it's positively labyrinthine compared to the flat character Christopher Lee has to work with. Sadly, the cinematic GOLDEN GUN appeared at a time when the Bond franchise was beginning to indulge in some very fatuous humor, as if director Guy Hamilton and his scripters, for all their long acquaintance with the franchise, had become embarrassed by their association with the character. So Lee's Scaramanga tosses out the tale of his pet elephant's death for Bond's amusement, but it doesn't give any insight into his character. Ditto for the villain's odd relationship with his servant Nick Nack-- not in the book in any form- in which the master assassin invites Nick Nack to kill Scaramanga if he can. Further, since by 1974 Communist incursions were less significant to audiences than the energy crisis, the "sugar futures" plot is dropped in favor of hero and villain fighting over a radical new solar-energy device.

There are some decent stunt-sequences in GOLDEN GUN, such as the memorable "overturning car-in-air" stunt that ALMOST redeems the return of an obnoxious Southern-sheriff character introduced in LIVE AND LET DIE. But GUN the movie feels like it's mostly on cruise control. Admittedly it couldn't be a "send-off" for cinematic Bond the way Fleming could send off his literary version. But Hamilton and his cohorts fail to give us the sort of above-average villain that the presence of Christopher Lee merited.

GODZILLA VS. DESTOROYAH (1995)

PHENOMENALITY: *marvelous*
MYTHICITY: *fair*
FRYEAN MYTHOS: *drama*
CAMPBELLIAN FUNCTIONS: *cosmological, sociological*

With DESTOROYAH, I've finally got round to reviewing all of the films in the so-called "Heisei Era" (1984-1995) except for the one that initiated the Heisei reboot, 1984's RETURN OF GODZILLA (GODZILLA 1985 in the U.S.)

The Heisei films deserve props for managing a more serious, less looney-tunes version of the Big G than the one who finished up in the 1970s. However, pound for pound I preferred more of the succeeding "Millennium Era" that followed fast on the heels of the godawful "American Godzilla" of 1998. The only Heisei film I rated as good in its mythicity was 1991's GODZILLA VS. KING GHIDORAH, though I had some limited affection for the era's re-invention of Rodan and Baby Godzilla, as well as the "monster whispering" human psychic Miki. DESTOROYAH, however, suffers from too many inconsequential characters distracting from the main action and a very badly designed opponent for the titular King of Monsters.

DESTOROYAH builds on some of the events set up by the preceding GODZILLA VS. SPACE GODZILLA, which opposed the monster with a mutated clone of himself. The 1995 film subjects Godzilla to a further mutation, as the nuclear power within his reptillian body begins to enter a meltdown phase. This peril moves Japan's military to consider new methods of destroying or containing the creature. One is another of Japan's many super-ships, this one called "Super X III," which is armed with cold-rays capable of reducing the fury of Godzilla's internal nuclear fission. The other strategy comes from a young scientist who may be able to re-create the "Oxygen Destroyer" with which the 1954 "Gojira" was annihilated.

In the 1954 film, Doctor Serizawa nobly sacrificed his own life to make certain that his weapon would never be duplicated, since it might have as much, or more, power to devastate the human race. The young scientist seems half-willing to re-create the super-weapon for the military, and perhaps there was an unused plot-line in which he did so. But his presence is rendered nugatory when a new monster-- or rather, a new concatenation of interactive monsters-- appears. It's eventually revealed that "Destoroyah" is the result of a mutation brought about by Serizawa's original formula. Thus, even though the current Godzilla is a totally separate creature from the 1954 version, the filmmakers have chosen to create another "anti-Godzilla" like the one in SPACE GODZILLA, but with Destoroyah incarnating the power of the fictional "Oxygen Destroyer" as Godzilla incarnates that of nuclear power.

The one element that redeems the middling slugfest of the two super-monsters is the presence of "Godzilla Junior," now advanced to a near-adult stage by the same forces that caused Godzilla's further mutation. When it appears (temporarily) that Destoroyah has successfully slain Junior, the filmmakers movingly capture the bestial anguish of Godzilla Senior at seeing his final relation assassinated. However, though the film-series was terminated largely because it wasn't making enough money for Toho Studios, DESTOROYAH nevertheless leaves the door open for "Junior" to be reborn as the heir apparent to the city-leveling saurian. That element of the film is the only one that allows me to rate the film as "fair."