I’m a newer fan of Doctor Who. I started watching the show with its return to television in 2005 with Christopher Eccelston as the titular Ninth Doctor. I’m not alone. Many new fans were created with Eccelston. Even more first jumped on with David Tennant’s Tenth Doctor. And even more – like my niece – became new fans with Matt Smith’s Eleventh Doctor. If there’s one thing that all three of them shared, it was an inherent goofiness. Even Eccelston’s darker, post-war persona had a “daft face,” big ears, and a goofy grin. And to be fair, Tennant and Smith both had their share of dark moments. But as a whole, they were funny, goofy, Doctors. They were young, hip, sexy. Many fangirls swoon over David Tennant. That’s all well and good. I have no problem with that. Heck, Matt Smith was definitely my favourite Doctor largely because of his nature as a giant kid at heart.
But with the emergence of Peter Capaldi as the Doctor #12, we’re seeing a very different Doctor. One that I think will be jarring for many new fans such as myself.
Yesterday, Robin Williams committed suicide, succumbing to a life-long battle with depression. It…hits pretty close to home. While I never knew him in person – though I wish I had – one particularly work of his touched me and has kept me going for years.
In Part 3 of my Bump in the Road series, I talked about February 27, 2000, which was in many ways the worst day of my life. It was my biggest suicide attempt that landed me in psychiatric care for two weeks.
Almost every year since then, I have a small way of “celebrating” that anniversary: watching What Dreams May Come. It’s one of my favourite movies for obviously very personal reasons. Every time I watch it, I bawl my eyes out throughout the whole movie. It deals heavily with suicide and depression while also involving a journey through the afterlife. In my opinion, it’s one of Williams’ finest pieces of acting, as he brings a slew of emotional gravitas to his character the movie.
I want to talk a bit more about the movie, but it deals with spoilers, so just a warning.
A recent sketch of me by my good friend, Kelly-Jo Romard. With Dill on my shoulder, I figured this was a good time to post it.
While I’m blanking on any names off hand, I’ve read interviews from writers where they discussed a character taking over. That character will surprise them, throw a wrench into the works, or do something so unexpected and yet totally in character that the writer is forced to shrug and roll with it. They’ll make changes to the plot to accommodate the character. In this sense, the character has become something else bigger than the writer. They’ve become a very real character.
For the longest time, while I understood what these writers were saying, I’d never really experienced it.
Writer & Artist: Box Brown, Publisher: First Second, Price: $17.99 U.S./$19.99 CAN
Andre the Giant was a very big man. If there’s one thing you get out of reading Box Brown’s graphic novel biography on Andre the the Giant, it’s that Andre was a very big man. Now, that’s not a slight on the comic. Quite the opposite. Box Brown’s choice to focus on Andre’s gigantic size is, by and large (no pun intended), one of the comic’s best qualities. That particular focus works well for the visual storytelling medium.
But how is the book as whole? Well, let’s talk about that.
Yeah, I modelled for this. What the hell.
This particular entry is a bit more personal than I’d prefer to post on here, but it’s something I’d like to talk about in greater detail and would like to share with all of you.
So, let’s talk about my recent diagnoses with severe sleep apnea.
J’ohn J’onzzz, aka The Martian Manhunter
Recently, film writer David Goyer made some disparaging remarks about She-Hulk and Martian Manhunter. Chris Sims over at Comics Alliance wrote about it recently, which you can read here. In short, Goyer believes She-Hulk is basically a porn star character made specifically to give Hulk someone to bang. Which is ridiculous on multiple levels.
In the same interview, he also called The Martian Manhunter “goofy.” Maybe he just has a problem with green-skinned characters or the colour green in general (except the piles of money Hollywood keeps inexplicably throwing at him.).
Dammit, J’ohn! Not again!
However, he does bring up a good point Martian Manhunter: he is goofy. Or silly. Or ridiculous. Or whatever other description you want to use. He’s a shape-shifting, green-skinned telepathic Martian who can also turn invisible and becomes powerless from fire. Not Kryptonite, a rare element from another galaxy. Fire. As Batman said to him once, “I have a $70,000 sliver of a radioactive meteor to stop the one from Metropolis. All I need for you is a penny for a book of matches. ” (Darwyn Cooke’s New Frontier). How could anyone be a superhero, rescuing people, with a weakness to fire? It’s ridiculous! And don’t get me started on the dude who talks to fish.
But here’s the kicker: the superhero genre is inherently silly. It’s part of what makes it so great.