Hellboy II and Other

I saw Hellboy II a little later than I usually do. Dylan and I discovered that the Metro shuts down at midnight on weekdays in DC - didn’t cause problems when I lived in Georgetown, but it certainly hampers any sort of mid-week nightlife if I’m anywhere that doesn’t have a movie theatre within walking distance!

So we went Friday. Barely made the showing, in fact, which resulted in our being stuck up at the very front. My neck is still sore. Was it worth it? Hell yeah.

This is not the same Hellboy as the first. Gone is the focus on super-secret supernatural badassery (mostly because Hellboy reveals himself to the press early on); but with that facade gone, the door is opened to a whole new identity crisis for our hero. He finds himself hated and feared by humans, rather than revered. Gee - raise your hand if you didn’t see THAT coming! Enter the bad guy: Prince Nuada, last scion of the “elves” (modeled after the Tuatha de Danann of Gaelic fame). He’s passionate, but ultimately not all that menacing on screen, prefering instead to dispatch nastier beasties to do his bidding. He DOES, however, prove to be quite a schemer - putting Hellboy, for instance, in the position of killing the last Forest Elemental, a being of great beauty and grace, just to torture Hellboy’s conscience a little.

The weakness of the main villain, however, lets the movie focus on the development of our heroes. We’ve lost Meyers, but gained Johann Krauss - a medium composed entirely of ectoplasm. Cool beans, right? Despite the vast potential for screw-ups, Del Toro actually manages to make the character believable; and even with his shorter screen time, we see the character evolve to become part of the team in a thoroughly satisfying way.

In fact, the whole movie is thoroughly satisfying. There is one scene in particular - around half-way through the movie - where Hellboy and Abe drink, and muse on life and love. It’s moving in its natural power, choreographed like a well-written symphony, all to the unlikely tune of “Can’t Smile Without You” (sung by Barry Manilow). It’s quite possibly one of my favorite scenes of all time.

For all that, however, the movie fails to truly wow. It meanders from plot point to plot point with very little tangible conflict; just one witty quip and fantastic monster after another. It’s a pleasure to watch, but hardly world-shaking. I recommend it to any fan of folk tales, lore, and the supernatural; as well as to anyone who just likes to watch a fun action flick; but don’t go in expecting anything profound. The first movie was probably better for that.

On the blog… For those of you who don’t know, tomorrow is my last day of freedom before I’m plunged into the “real world”. I’m sure it’ll go by quickly and without celebration: after all, I have to be in bed by 9 PM if I hope to get to orientation on time and still get a decent night’s sleep. That sucks, but I guess sacrifices must be made…

I expect the first week or so will be busy, and that this blog will suffer. I’ll write when I can, though - you know, for those of you who read it…

Wave of… Nostalgia?

Loath as I am to quite the bible at you, even I have to recognize the significant impact it’s had on the culture that raised me. There’s a quote in I Corinthians 13.11:

“When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”

I found this quote echoing in my mind today as I sifted through the years of accumulated files, papers, and odds and ends in my closet. I’ve probably cleaned parts of my room dozens of times over the years, but the last two crusades against clutter have been particularly effective. These last two times, I found myself realizing that many things that used to be quite important to me are now either forgotten or not worth hanging onto. This growing cynicism acts as a sort of filter for the clutter that is retained, and with every subsequent tightening of the standards my past seems to condense a little bit more. Those of you who know me know that my memory is pretty bad; well, the more I get rid of the less I inevitably remember about life before the present.

In some ways, I welcome this outcome.  The effect it has is oddly appropriate for my personal journey in the past couple of years, and far too obvious an analogy to the tidying and organizing I’ve been doing. I can’t say I disapprove - we all know I love things to be nice and orderly. A part of me, however, really misses the old class notes I’m getting rid of, and truly mourns the loss not only of the opportunities High School and College presented to me but also the old me that failed to take advantage of those opportunities.

It doesn’t take much reading through my old notes and musings to get a pretty frightening picture of where I’ve come from. Doing so in the past few weeks, I’ve begun to feel that, as a kid, I engaged in a lot of rather Williams-esque escapism in the form of toys, comics, and video games long past the time when my friends had dropped those hobbies. Of course, I still haven’t really kicked the habit, so clearly part of me still loves the shelter those outlets provide. Not to mention that it’s hard to turn down a good story, no matter what form it takes.

As more and more of that past disappears, though, I’m realizing that it’s getting easier to let go of. I carted several years’ worth of Wizard Magazine out to the recycling bins today; you should have seen how hard I fought to keep those just a few years ago. That’s not the worst of it: last time I was here, I sold half my books.

Am I putting away childish things and finally growing up? Or am I simply moving to new, equally-childish pursuits? What if I don’t like who I’m becoming?