Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day (cleanskies) wrote,
Jeremy Dennis is Jeremy Day

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escape from now into a glowing world of ink and paint

Ah Mike Mignola, how inky your shadows are; how rich and vivid your colours, how they seem to glow ...

And yes, finally, crushed miserably between that gruesome Tom Hanks movie and the equally despicable-looking Open Water, Hellboy has achieved release in this country ... and last night, I caught it on preview.

I like the colour blue. Green people, too, have automatic entry onto my wish-list. Telepathic soft-spoken turquoise fish-man with a thing for tight shorts and goggles? Hard to look at that and not think, "I want one of those". And he wasn't the only one. Not since Stargate had I seen such a determined effort to provide something for everyone. Like 'em big and butch? There's Ron Perlman with funky hair, red skin and exotic engravings, Neurotic, bitter, gothy, lovely? Oh, Selma Blair. Insane, semi-dressed, heavily accented? Step up, Karel Roden. And take your shirt off again, please. Fresh-faced and innocent? There's Rupert Evans with cherry lips, looking rumpled and confused. And what's this? Biddy Hodson as a bitch-slapping Nazi uber-babe? ... there's also a heavily masochistic and very flexible clockwork Nazi in a gas-mask, and John Hurt doing a Dumbledore impersonation for any people way off out there in the land of fetish.

Of all the things I expected of the movie (occultist scrapbook dialogue, stunning colour, great great old ones) and got (monochrome scenery, vast mystical machinary, irritable dead guys) I wasn't expecting a fashion parade of beautiful monsters. Or the whole MiB-style humour thing, either, for that matter; actually, the gang of girls behind us pissing themselves laughing at the plot, erm, "twists" fitted right in. It was wide-hitting, fast-punching comic-book comedy; and anyone who wants to pick holes in a paper-thin plot-tissue of Nazi occultists, FBI cover-ups, many-angled (and tentacled) ones, St Dionysius the Aeropagite (also good against headaches, apparently) and an embarassing number of kittens, should really remember that Rasputin really was just mad. Is. Is just mad.

So, who was that, under all the turquoise prosthetics? Doug Jones. You previously saw him playing the Gentlemen in Hush -- remember? That episode of Buffy where everyone shut the fuck up for a change?

Nice to see him going on to bigger and better things.

EDIT: Looks like I'm not the only one that found the movie inspirational.

Incidentally, I am now going to judge every post I make against the baby picture.

This week's strip -- about half as interesting as a baby picture.

This post -- probably won't get any comments at all. After all, I don't think a taste for tall turquoise men is going to be common, even among people who were the right age when they were reading Brendan McCarthy comics ...

Mood of google: cry for help, don't cry for me, Iran.

And now I'll go back to watching the BBC news site. Pfff.

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