I Advance Confused: A Look at a Not-So-Guilty Pleasure

First, an explanation of my protracted sabbatical:
After our beloved dog Sandy passed away last month, I spent two weeks dealing with a bout of what I can only call depression, though my particular appellation seems more focused on the "lack of energy" side of the equation than the "sadness" side.  I wasn't sad per se, at least not in a fully conscious way, but I definitely wasn't happy either.  I'm happiest when I am either working with gusto at some writing project, or enjoying an evening with my lovely wife and a lack of energy doesn't bode well for either activity.
With no small amount of encouragement from my wife (read: nagging and ass-kicking), my generally positive nature won out and I returned to work.  At that time, however, I was on the home stretch of my current writing project, and didn't wish to expend a single ounce of my still-fragile energy reserves on anything inconsequential.  Like this blog.  So I didn't blog for like a month.
Big whoop, wanna fight about it?
AT ANY RATE...
Today, after an invigorating bout of housework, I found myself listening to Coheed and Cambria's most recent record and it sent me on an inner tirade.  And sharing such tirades, those of you who have been with me since the beginning will know, is the whole reason this blog exists.  For good or ill.  So here we go.

Some time in the early 2000's I picked up a free, cardboard-sleeved copy of the latest Equal Vision Records sampler.  Indie labels will periodically do this; they put out samplers of all their artists and give them away cheap or free to encourage further sales.  I used to have a truckload of these types of CDs.
On this particular compilation was a band whom I had heard of once or twice from my good friend Ben, a band called Coheed & Cambria.  He described them, saying they sounded like "Michael Jackson singing for a hardcore band."  The song featured on the sampler was "Everything Evil".  I dug it. 
Years went by and I maintained a passing familiarity with the band's work, though I never really gave them a hard listen.  They were primarily a curiosity, most notable for their lead singer's unusually high vocal range.
Let's take a moment to talk about that.  This is what Claudio Sanchez looks like:

And this, for whatever reason is what his voice sounds like.
Not what you were expecting?  Me either.
During the years of passing familiarity, I became aware that Claudio's voice was the sole dividing factor on whether or not you liked the band.  That impossibly high register makes my manhood shrivel every time I hear it, and yet...  can't stop listening to them these days.
Around the time of their third album, I went ahead and acquired all three then-existing records.  I listened to a track or two on each, images of shrinky-dinks floating through my head.  The band rocks pretty hard - at least to those of us with musical tastes rooted in punk and metal. 
I couldn't decide whether or not I was a fan of the band at that time.  So I filed those three records away, saying to myself "I'll listen to the next record when it comes out, and if it's good then I'll go ahead and let my self like this band.  If it sucks, these records are going in the trash."
And then they came out with Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV Volume 2: No World for Tomorrow.  (By the way, that's quite a mouthful of an album title but it's nothing compared to its predecessor, Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV Volume 1: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness.)
Good Apollo Vol. 2 rocks damn hard.  DAMN hard.  The vocals at that point in the band's career were becoming more tempered, using more of his lower range in addition to the familiar high-pitched wail.  They broadened their sound, becoming markedly less Emo, and much more Prog-Metal.  It was at that time that I accepted my fan status and fully familiarized myself with the band.
I, a rabid fan of concept-heavy progressive music, was delighted to find out that all of their albums were chapters in a single concept-album-rock-opera-sci-fi-mega-saga.  Each of the first four albums relates a chapter in the saga.  The fifth is the prequel to the first four.  Their sixth and seventh together form a tale set in the same story universe, though not directly part of the same narrative.  Claudio even has a side project, The Prize Fighter Inferno, that tells another story that is indirectly linked to the primary story universe.
And all of the albums are linked with comic books and/or novels that detail the story (not exactly, we'll go into that in a moment).
It's incredibly ambitious.  To tell a huge story like that through the difficult medium of rock music.  It's hard enough writing good rock songs.  It's really hard writing good stories (I know).  Doing the two together, while also crafting the lyrics and songs to stand on their own, so that an understanding of the story is not essential to enjoyment of the music... that's genius.
I won't go into the story here for three reasons. 1. It's really huge.  2. You can learn about it on wikipedia.  3. I haven't read it.
The comics have been through a good deal of difficulty in the publishing process.  The art department has been a revolving-door cast since the beginning, and the money/enthusiasm on the part of publishers has not always been present, so the actual output of the story has been VERY inconsistent.  There isn't even a single issue to accompany Good Apollo Vol. 2 yet.  Now that the band is pretty huge, they're going back through, re-releasing it, crafting some new stuff, making it better, continuous and consistent.  I've decided to wait for the 20th anniversary Complete Amory Wars boxed-set before I bother to turn a single page.  I'm not a sap, I don't want to spend a million dollars picking up this copy or that issue or the new edition.  I just want the story, so I'm gonna wait until they put it into one big, hulking thing and then I'm gonna buy it once. 
But I know most fans won't feel that way.  And that is why Claudio Sanchez is really freakin' smart. Not only did he diversify into multiple mediums, he parted it out so that he could build a rabid fan base, foaming at the mouth with anticipation for that next installment.  Granted, the guy's not getting super-rich on comics, but it's still a good idea.  And there's always that stack of cash from album sales to fall back on.
Now, apparently, Mark Wahlberg's company has optioned the thing for a movie.  How they're gonna squeeze it into one, I don't know, and if they're smart (which I believe they are) they won't try.  They have the groundwork laid to do a minimum of 5 movies out of this thing, and the band's following, plus sci-fi movie fans, plus comic book movie fans, plus general hollywood fans (presuming the casting is done well)...  that makes a pretty huge audience.  If Mark Wahlberg et. al. are halfway intelligent, they'll keep the fans on the hook and milk this thing for every drop.  That's what I'd do.  Plus a big story benefits from not being rushed, so it's the artistically sound thing to do as well.
As totally stoked as I am about all of the above, I still have a tiny part of me that hates the rest of me for loving this band.  And Claudio's voice isn't the reason.
The fact that has come to light over my research on the band and the story is this: Claudio Sanchez is one self-obsessed egotistical motherfucker.  And I can't really blame him: after all he would have to be stupid to not know how smart he is.  But sitting there and watching it go on... after a while I'm like "Okay, you're interesting!  I GET IT."
The thing is, the main character in The Amory Wars shares a name and physical appearance with Claudio.  And if that wasn't enough, in the comic of Good Apollo Vol. 1, the story takes a detour into the world of a character called "The Writer" who is writing the story of the main characters, who ALSO shares important physical attributes with Claudio.  IF THAT STILL WASN'T ENOUGH, Claudio's comic company also produces a corny, violent, jokey comic series called "Kill Audio".  If the connection there isn't obvious to you, I hereby forbid you from ever reading another word I write.  I've never read "Kill Audio", but from what I can see it's a cartoony version of him going around getting in fights.
*sigh*
As annoyed as I am by all of that, I still like this band a lot.  I can't help myself.  And it's not even a guilty pleasure, like my occasional listen to Korn.  I actually, genuinely like Coheed and Cambria.  I'll defend it in conversation, even though I'm aware of their faults.  Somehow, despite the improbability of everything, they pull it off.  They're WAY too big for their britches, but somehow it still fits.
I'm a nerd.  And Coheed is a band that beckons you to nerd out on them.  It's brilliant strategy on Claudio's part, that he can hook a skeptic like me, come off looking like a total bastard and still keep my approval.  It's like a fucking magic trick or something.
It's no mystery why I, an avid metal head, would like a song like this.
What doesn't make sense to me is why I like this song too.
And yet I HATE this song. It sounds totally lame to me.
But this one doesn't.
I'm frustrated.  But what the hell, you only live once.  AFI blows, but Coheed and Cambria kick ass.  I'll stand proud and say that to my most bearded-up, whiskey-guzzling, metal head friends.  Fuck you.

#coheedandcambria #amorywars #amorywarsmovie #sorryimnotsorry #claudiosanchez #metal #punk #emo #music

Oh, and that's another thing.  You're gonna start seeing hashtags in these posts.  I was an idiot to never include them before, they drive up your web traffic like crazy.  Even though the point of this blog is just to be my journal essentially, it doesn't hurt to create a little buzz around yourself if you can.  I eventually would like to charge people money to read my stories, you know.

#commercialism #capitalism #getpaid #shamelessselfpromotion #imawesome #yousuck

House of Cards

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So last night, my gorgeous wife and I started watching the first Netflix Original Series; House of Cards, starring Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright (I didn't know who that was at first, but she played Jenny in Forrest Gump, and she was The Princess Bride).  It's a more-or-less color-by-numbers political drama, with some very junior mistakes in the writing, and nothing too surprising plot-wise (at least in the first four episodes), but more on that later.  It's meaty enough to keep us watching, and the acting is definitely up to par with some of the best TV series out these days.
Which brings me to my main point.  This new entertainment delivery system is awesome.  Netflix streaming is now available for almost every device out there, even most new TVs.  I have it on my freaking phone now.  It's still under $10/month for streaming only, and that's a small price to pay for the absolute control you get.  Its very encouraging to see big names like Kevin Spacey and David Fincher (who directed the first two episodes) getting attached to a project that's taking advantage of a totally untried format, because that means the format will probably succeed.  Which means, that though House of Cards has its flaws, it's big enough to set a precedent for well-financed, talent-rich series to continue coming out on Netflix exclusively, and ultimately, they're bound to come up with a masterpiece.  When that happens, we subscribers will be able to enjoy it for dirt-cheap prices without all the baggage that comes along with regular television.
There's no commercials on Netflix.  No stopping and starting of the drama.  Even if you have DVR, you still have to deal with the inconvenience of TV, and if you watch shows on major networks, there are no guarantees that your favorite show won't be knocked out of it's regular time slot for a long-running sports game or breaking news.  Another great advantage is the fact that the series can come out a season at a time, rather than one episode a week.  If you're like me (and most Netflix users, apparently) you like to devour your shows marathon-style, so that you don't spend each week wondering what's going to happen, or worse, forgetting what happened last episode.
When we're really into a series, it becomes all we watch until there is no more of that series.  The Netflix original takes advantage of that watching habit.  A good drama series is really like a long movie, and it sucks to have to watch it tiny bit by tiny bit.  I know with The Walking Dead, I spend the first few minutes of every episode trying to re-orient myself to what's going on, and just when I'm getting settled in, it's over.  If this new format continues to produce quality output, that won't be so, at least for some shows.  I know the audience will agree with me on this one, and hopefully that will mean Netflix will soon be able to compete with networks like AMC, HBO and Showtime.
House of Cards, specifically, falls prey to a few flaws, however.  The most obvious of these is Spacey's first person narration to the camera.  While I recognize this as a valid stylistic choice (After all the technique was used to great effect by Shakespeare in Richard III), I feel that the writers of House of Cards fall into the novice trap of using this narration as exposition in disguise; that is, explaining to the audience what's going on, who is who, and what the relationships between characters and events are.  It panders to the audience a little, as if the writers were afraid we wouldn't catch on.  They needn't have been, for two reasons: one, the skillful acting and generally well conceived plot make tings obvious enough; and two, the relationships and events are familiar to most viewers, drawing upon the usual archetypes of political drama.  So the narrative technique is really just propping up already strong writing, which has the unintentional effect of making it look weaker than it really is.  I sincerely hope the writers grow in confidence as seasons progress.  The first person narrative technique is useful, but generally used best when a story focuses on a single character and their point of view.  House of Cards shuffles through many points of view, giving Spacey's well-delivered monologues a much more artificial feel.  Because we don't spend all our time focusing on Spacey's character, the narration's flaw becomes all the more obvious; the writers are really just using him to explain the story.
Another closely related flaw is that the dialogue often sacrifices realism for wit.  The characters banter back and forth in perfect rhythm; hammering out clever turns of phrase without a moment's pause.  I'm willing to suspend my disbelief in this case - after all, politicians are wordy people - but again, it gives the writing a feel of being weaker than it really is. Character are easier to empathize with when they're realistic, and realistic character often find themselves at a loss for words, or speak out of turn, or misunderstand one another.  House of Cards  lacks this authenticity, and it puts us at a remove from the characters, even if we want to love them.  It even makes hating the evil ones harder, which means the writers are really selling themselves short.  The characters are compelling, and if they talked like normal people we'd know it.
All in all, however, the fact that Netflix has produced a big-budget, talent-boasting original series is a huge leap forward in the entertainment world.  I look forward to the next Netflix original series, and dearly hope that the big networks catch on to this format, so that in the future everyone will have absolute control of their entertainment lineup.  I'm convinced commercials are the only reason TV makes you stupider, after all, no one ever told you that going to the movies makes you dumb.   Anything that lets you do away with the trash is good in my book.

[Addendum]
In the weeks since this post, my wife and I finished House of Cards. My original assessment stands, the story telling is sloppy, and made to look weak by being propped up with obstrusive narrative technique, but the actual content of the plot is juicy enough to keep you watching, even if it's not original.
SPOILER ALERT!
There was one episode where we find out Spacey's character had a gay fling in college.  The entire episode is spent with him rabble-rousing with his old college buddies, reliving old times.  I suppose the intent here was to give the character a human face, to try and make the audience feel sympathy for him.  the only problem is...
WE DON'T WANT TO!
It's an anti-hero story!  to try and make us sympathize with an anti-hero is to ruin the fun of such stories. we want to feel good about rooting for the bad guy, that's what makes them so damn great.  This episode not only stopped the story dead in it's tracks to tell us something about the character that has no bearing whatsoever on the plot, but it also damaged the cold, ruthless image of him we have, and from there on out, his character loses clout.
I wil say, however, that his toadie Doug Stamper is probably the best character in the show.  He's the one who gets his hands dirty on Frank's behalf, and he's probably the best goon character I've come across in a while.
We will, of course, watch season two.  but they better step their fucking game up, or I'm out after that.

Special Effects

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As a sci-fi nerd, flashy special effects in movies has always been a given.  It really isn't sci-fi unless there's something fantastic or unreal about it, and in movies this almost always demands the use of prosthetic makeup or CG.  It's something you learn to expect.
But for some reason, I've always disliked it when the CG is in your face, even when it's done well.  Like in the God-forsaken Star Wars trilogy re-release; where elaborate CG scenes are cut and pasted onto otherwise perfect sequences; lasers that were once totally believable beams of fuzzy light are suddenly crisp, three-dimensional lines that only highlight the limitations of 1070's film making; Yoda, who was once a totally believable, even life-like puppet, suddenly jumps and spins and loses every ounce of his wizened credibility.
Or take Avatar, a movie whose entire reason for existing was a masturbatory exercise in computer generated reality.  There, you don't even have the obvious contrast between what's real and what's green screen or motion capture suits.  The CG blends seamlessly, even artfully with the live-action shots.  And yet it still left a bad taste in my mouth.  I, a master of suspending disbelief, walked out of that movie with a pervasive sense of implausibility and falsehood.
I've felt like this for several years, and its only recently that I've been able to put my finger on why
If you keep reading this blog, you will no doubt continue to catch references to the book Self Editing for Fiction Writers by Renni Brown and Dave King.  The book gave names and rules to vague feelings I've always had about story-craft, be it in film or on paper.  It crystallized the unknown reasons behind objections I'd never before been able to articulate.  It even managed to shed light on why I don't like overblown CG in my sci-fi movies.
In the book, a great deal is made of the fact that when one is reading a good book, one is immersed to a point where the real world falls away, and only the story exists.  If you've ever read a great work of fiction, you've no doubt experienced this; where you crack a book, blink your eyes a time or two and suddenly four hours have passed.  John Gardener, in his equally life-changing book On Becoming a Novelist (another book you'll probably see me refer to a lot), refers to this experience as "The vivid and continuous dream."  In Self Editing, Brown  and King repeatedly emphasize that all decisions a writer or editor makes must be in service to the vivid and continuous dream.  Every word must be crafted to enhance it, and when a particular turn of phrase or a badly jumbled sentence distracts from it, the reader is robbed of part of the intended experience.
When a word is mispeled, or a sentence is so long that verbs and subjects are forgotten in the sea of unnecessary, obscuring, unwelcome adjectives, when subclauses extend to the point of inviting ridicule from editors, readers and critics alike, when punctuation, is, used... improperly or (without merit), the reader is robbed of a part of that vivid and continuous dream.  Like I just tried to do with that last sentence.  I'm betting some of you had to read it twice to put it all together.  Isn't it maddening when you have to do that in the middle of a book?  Doesn't it draw you out of the story?
That's exactly the point that Brown and King make.  And it's not only errors that damage the vivid and continuous dream.  Subtle stylistic choices like unnecessarily flowery language, or the noticing of details that a particular character would likely be blind to, or the sudden switching from my point of view to his, all of these draw attention to the writers technique and thusly away from the story itself.  A casual or uninformed reader may not notice this explicitly, but they are likely to recall less of the book, or they may have a vague feeling like something is wrong, without knowing what.  That's because the writer's technique or style is commanding your attention instead of the story.  So every creative decision that is made, must be made in service to the vivid and continuous dream.
And that, my friends, is exactly why I hate in your face CG in movies.  When I see a 1970's Harrison Ford talking to a very 21st century Jabba the Hut outside of the Millennium Falcon, I'm not thinking about the fact that Han is trying to talk his way out of a confrontation with a powerful crime lord, I'm thinking about the fact that Jabba stands out against the background.  When I see a tall blue guy galloping through the magical forests of Pandora with his new found alien love, I'm not thinking about the fact that his loyalties are evolving and that the humans are cruelly exploiting a beautiful and wondrous place, I'm thinking about how many interns it took to render that glowing plant, or how the motion capture suit works, or at best I'm thinking about the fact that the background looks really cool.  Either way, I'm not  thinking about the story.
And now that I think about it, this is why I prefer musicality to technical skill in my rock music. When Ynwie Malmsteen is shredding my face off, I'm thinking about how fast his fingers are moving, not about the music, and that's why I can't remember a note of it.  When Inferno is slamming out blast beat after blast beat, there's really no hook that I can tap along to.  But when Hendrix played the national anthem, all I could think about was the ironic and yet patriotic statement he was making, and how his rendition of that song distilled the entire spirit of Woodstock, hell the entire idiom of the 1960's into one piece of simple, expressive music.
So, in conclusion: anything, in any artistic medium, that draws attention away from that which is expressed, and draws attention to how it is expressed does a disservice to those who experience it.  Good art is transparent, and the best artists are invisible.