So Mission: Impossible III is upon us. Be still, my heart.

Hey, sorry… I just don't like too much John Woo in my diet. I prefer, y'know, plotlines and the like.

In any event, what's captured my interest about this undeniable cinematic stinkbomb isn't the fact that they made a sequel to M:I2. I pretty much learned that after they made a sequel to the first installment that they'll spin anything off for a few dollars more. No, what has grasped my attention is the fact that the antagonist is portrayed by Academy Award Winner Philip Seymour Hoffman.

Rewind and read the last eleven words in that paragraph.

Hoffman has been doing an amazing job as the requisite character/supporting actor for-freakin'-ever now. Didn't matter whether he was in Cold Mountain or Almost Famous, whatever film we're talkin' about was immediately improved tenfold just by virtue of his presence and performance as soon as his unmistakable mug was featured on the screen. The guy knows his stuff and it shows.

But now, having won an Oscar for Capote (which I have yet to see but am looking forward to tremendously), he's reduced to your standard issue action film bad guy cliché, which, incidentally, no one has been able to duplicate since Alan Rickman was featured in Die Hard. Period.

On the opposite end of the genre spectrum, but similarly bad-looking, Robin Williams's latest vehicle RV opened this weekend (see what I did there?). Watching the previews for that makes me dread the day I have children, as I'm sure I'll have to sit through many, many horrible family films, much like I forced my parents to do. And Disney not being what it once was, I'm not looking forward to that day…

It should also be duly noted that Williams is another of those select thespians to receive an Oscar.

So is Robert De Niro. Didn't stop him from making Showtime.

Jodie Foster has an Oscar under her belt. But she still made Flightplan.

I won't even get into Jon Voigt's career.

At this rate, I'm waiting for Meryl Streep to catch top billing in Breakin' 3. The Oscar has long been touted as the highest honor in cinema… yet at the same time, it has also proven to be something of a kiss of death for said honorees. I can't for the life of me figure out what it is about that much-coveted Oscar that drives so many people to accept such horrible roles.
I'm sure a lot of it has to do with the individual, no question. Some people (especially celebrities) exercise less discretion when planning their career moves than most. That being said, I have to give Cali credit for having the best drugs available, because that's the only reason I can think of Susan Sarandon having anything to do with Elizabethtown. I have to say that when it comes to mass mediart, we are in a major lull, here, people. I'm dead serious. I think contemporary film, music and television, by normal standards, is not only disappointing, but downright repulsive.

I think a recent text message courtesy of my buddy Vas, intended solely to break up the day and catch a laugh, says it all:

"There's motherfuckin' snakes on the motherfuckin' plane!"

They made a horror move about snakes on planes. It doesn't get much better/worse than that, ladies and gentlemen. We are officially an honest-to-goodness teenage wasteland awash in our own fecal matter and bile, because we pay to see this rot. And when we don't shell out the $8.50 in the theaters, we gladly head over to the local Blockbuster for a lazy Friday rental. One way or another, every movie, no matter how bad, is gonna make money somehow.

White Chicks made money. Think it over.

Now I realize that you have to work yourself up the ladder no matter what your path in life. Even Renee Zellweger was brandishing those Oscar-worthy chops in Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3, and nominee Jake Gyllenhaal was Bubble Boy long before even Donnie Darko opened the door for him to break out the cowboy hat and spurs.
But when you reach the top and retrograde as bad as some of the films that I've mentioned in prior paragraphs, I personally feel it's time to reexamine your career path or just exit gracefully altogether. Personally, I don't think I'd be able to degrade myself like that, no matter how much debt I'm in.

There's such a fine line between artist and whore, isn't there?

Now I understand that for some, there comes but one highwater mark in life; one opus that stands apart from everything else, and you're left with nowhere to go but down (for reference, see: Appetite For Destruction).

(See also: Alexander, Jason, Louis-Dreyfuss, Julia and Richards, Michael.)

Well, maybe it's me, but I feel that once you reach that pinnacle of artistry, the very least you could do is stick to it and try to make sure that your work is of a similar caliber if not superior to all things prior. But paychecks talk and critics balk, so at the end of the day, I'm sure plenty of these acting types are just thinking about their next car, jet or private estate, isn't that right, Mr. Jamie Foxx, Academy Award-winning star of Stealth?

It's the same reason that Kiss has been on tour forever. Because there's big money in it. It's too bad the music sucks.

Much like the scripts.

And the motherfuckin' snakes on the motherfuckin' plane.

Now if they decide to take Academy Award-winner Jon Voigt and Academy Award-winner Jamie Foxx and make those snakes anacondas and that plane a stealth bomber with a mind of its own… Now you're talkin' quality entertainment.

Just don't bill it as cinema, 'kay?

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

So in my travels last weekend to the ever-glorious metropolis known as Chicago (now officially one of my favorite cities anywhere), I couldn't help but notice in the various newsstands and bookstores in Bradley, Pitt and O'Hare that Dan Brown's The Da Vinci Code has finally been released in paperback with just about a month to go before the movie drops.

I think it's pretty safe to say I'm a reader, and if you've read this sucker for any discernible length of time you'd know this. That being said, I have somewhat mixed feelings about this phenomenon. For that matter, I have mixed feelings about any literary phenomenon, save maybe the Harry Potter books as they've proven to be a major source of inspiration for the young'ns to start reading. There's nothin' wrong with that, as I certainly don't think I wouldn't be delving into Vonnegut and Auster were it not for being weaned on the likes of Dr. Seuss and the Berenstain Bears series growing up (all of which my mother was thoughtful enough to hang onto for my eventual offspring, bless her soul).

But I think with any other sort of mainstream book becoming "the next big thing," there's a sort of misleading nature about the whole ordeal as these books are rarely the true crème de la crème, so to speak.

First off, let me offer the following disclaimer: I have not yet read Da Vinci. I had waited a near eternity for the blasted thing to be released in paperback as I find the cost of hardcover books to be outrageous. Leave it to the marketing geniuses at whatever publisher released the sucker to wait until the release of the film was in sight to do so, just to give sales and interest that one last spike before the opening box office weekend.

Then again, having an MBA in marketing, I shoulda guessed this'd be the case, so shame on me.

But in any event, I finally bought a paperback and Da Vinci and I'm only about 100 pages into it. I want to read it before the movie hits, because as we know, the film rarely trumps the book, plain and simple. In preparation, I flew through the famed prequel Angels & Demons in under a month's time. For what it's worth, I enjoyed it. I think Brown is very talented at researching his topics and managing to interlock history, fiction and conspiracy theory. I laud him for it.

However…

Herein lay the trouble with so-called literary phenomena and the like… while the story may be engrossing and enjoyable, at the end of the day, I don't find myself harkening back to it at any real point in time. That is to say, I fail to see what the underlying themes are, other than a really cool thriller peppered with heavy doses of imagery, actual fact and clever execution. Now for most, that may all be fine and dandy.

Clearly I'm not most.

(For no other reason other than the fact I couldn't find a better place to fit it, I offer a brief parenthetical aside/critique regarding Da Vinci based on what I've read thus far… I will try to keep it as spoiler-free as possible. What I've noticed about it more than anything else is that it's basically a carbon copy of Angels & Demons; only the names have been changed to protect the guilty. Bizarre murder gives way to a major crisis sparked by an antagonistic clandestine society, and intellectual everyman Robert Langdon must team up with an attractive female counterpart who is seemingly has more balls than he does. A combination of religion and conspiracy drive the story to unravel startling revelations that stand to rattle the very foundation of the Catholic Church. I'm pretty confident that by the end of Da Vinci, I'll feel the same way I did after watching Escape From L.A.: "I liked this better the first time around… y'know, when it was called Escape From New York. We now return you to your regularly scheduled diatribe…)

Now maybe it comes from a long history of reading comic books and watching old school sci-fi, but I always try to look for central themes and undercurrents to any story regardless of the medium. This also comes in large part due to the education I received under Douglas Glover, Kathryn Davis and Steven Millhauser at Skidmore. If you haven't heard of them I can't say I'm hugely surprised. Not a one of them is a New York Times bestseller list mainstay, and despite incredible critical acclaim (including the 1996 Pulitzer for fiction awarded to Millhauser for Martin Dressler), it's quite clear that none of them will ever "push units" like a Dan Brown, Stephen King, Danielle Steele, etc., etc., ad nauseum.

In fact, with the exception of Millhauser, I have yet to find either Glover or Davis's published works in any major bookstore chain.

I think what I'm getting at is the notion that literary booms focusing on one book should not be taken as representatives of the entire literary population at that given point in time. Maybe it can be compared to huge blockbuster films being all the rage when it's more than likely the small change indie films getting all the praise. I don't know, it's kinda difficult to classify. There's just something about me that feels this sorta hype is misleading in a way.

There's also the fact that said hype typically gives way to massive marketing and crossover into every medium imaginable. The example I offer is an oldie, but a goodie: Jurassic Park.

I remember being about 11 years old when the book was booming big time. I recall clear as a bell walking through the old Naugatuck Valley Mall (how's that for a flashback for all you native Waterbury folk?) and seeing a huge promotional display for Jurassic Park, well before the film came out. Shoot, this was well before I even knew a film was in the works. All I knew was that this book had a tyrannosaurus skeleton on the cover, and being a major dinosaur fanatic from the time I was about 5 years old, I was curious to say the least. Ultimately, I received the book from a cousin and read through the entire thing in a couple weeks. Again, this is still well before the film came out.

Being only 11 at the time I read it, I think I viewed it as everyone else did: a wicked cool story involving raptors. I doubt I could've grasped Michael Crichton's underlying "Frankenstein" theme of man playing God with science and genetics at that age. Turns out he was about he was nearly a decade ahead of his time when it came to the ethical issues of genetic cloning. But still, I was very taken with the story, and naturally went to see the flick when it was released in that memorable summer of nineteen-naughty-three.

By now, I was 12. Still young, but even I was able to figure out that they couldn't possibly fit everything from the book into a two-hour time span. What I don't think I could have prepared myself for was the blitzkrieg of marketing marvels that was to follow: toys, games, apparel, books, tampons, etc. Anything that a price tag could be placed on had the Jurassic logo on it.

As if the initial homerun wasn't enough, a sequel wasn't only expected, why it was downright mandatory, I say! Enter 1997 and Crichton's half-baked The Lost World. This time around, all themes of chaos and science gone berserk went out the window in grand Hollywood fashion. Even the title of the book was a direct tip of the hat to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's classic silent film which first exposed dinosaurs to the movie-going masses. In short, whereas the first book was just a book that hit big, the second installment was essentially a blueprint for the movie. And not only was the book a far cry from its literary predecessor, the film was a far cry from the book it was based on, making for one really, really atrocious blockbuster. Mission: Impossible III looks like freakin' Scorcese next to this dud. I won't even begin to go into the third film, which Crichton wasn't even attached to. Apparently a fourth film is in the works. Nothing like milking a cow until it's dead and its udders are spewing dust.

Not only was the sucker a major hit, but it seemed like any book Crichton wrote was bound for the silver screen from that point forward. After two prior film ventures in the 70's (The Andromeda Strain and The Great Train Robbery), anything the man wrote went to the big screen in the 90's. Congo, Sphere, even the post-JP penned Timeline all made it to theaters, all of which really, really sucked.

I guess what I'm getting at is that there's a snowball effect when this sorta thing happens, and commercialism totally overtakes whatever relevant artistic or intellectual value is inherent within the book to begin with. Now I grant you that dinosaurs are a far more marketable commodity as opposed to religious conspiracies, so you probably won't be seeing action figures bearing the likeness of Tom Hanks any time soon. Even so, you'd better believe that there will likely be a third book in the life of Robert Langdon, and at least one more flick. If you think the film is gonna bomb, I fear you're way, way outta touch, dear reader. The money is there, and it will probably be the easiest work of Dan Brown's life, because at this point in time, he could basically wipe himself on a sheet of Charmin, and that would go straight to the top of the bestseller list.

Meanwhile, the thing that bothers me the most is that there are infinitely better books languishing in limbo right now that are probably being overlooked by the general populous. Now granted, one could always argue that exposure to such fanaticism could offer a sort of floodgate effect and create scores of readers from whence there were none. Lord knows I didn't start flipping pages incessantly until I was introduced to Crichton's work. However, it wasn't until I read Slaughterhouse 5 and The New York Trilogy for a class in postmodern literature that my tastes really transformed and I adopted the style of writing that I employ now. Prior to that, my literary world was limited to Crichton and Dean Koontz. Again, stuff simply tailor-made for Tinsel Town.

Now that's not to say that Dan Brown's work is bad by any stretch. As I've said, he's certainly very well read in religious and iconographic history and has been able to parlay that knowledge into something really huge. More power to him, I wish I could do the same thing. And I think we can all agree that personal taste is a purely subjective thing and no two people will entirely mesh with their personal preferences. If nothing else, I'm glad that people are actually reading the dang thing as opposed to "just waiting for the movie." There's no term I loathe more than that. But at the same time, I just can't help but feel that no matter what, the bottom line is that a lot of misconceptions may be drawn about the literary world because of the hype here. Like a lotta people say, they're reading this book only because of the buzz. Shoot, that's why I'm reading it, only because it's become such a pop culture cornerstone for the new millennium that I would be remiss if I didn't at least become casually familiar with it.

I guess there's just something about me that cringes when I realize the guy has sold more copies than The Great Gatsby or Fahrenheit 451.

And lastly, to anyone that is just waiting for the movie, I hope you realize that A) the paperback is cheaper than your ticket, and B) it lasts a helluva lot longer. You go munch on your popcorn; I'm gonna chill in the coffee shop. Thank you for leaving.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

I think it’s high time that I unleashed an Yngwie Malmsteen-esque fury on a particular sect of academic luminaries who seem to hold themselves in too high an esteem for my liking. It gives me great pleasure to burst their self-righteous little bubble and fill them in on a couple of truths that they are long overdue on learning.

Ivy leaguers. Sit down. You an’ me are gonna have a li’l talk…

See, my company has this bad habit of hiring Ivy League grads and putting them in quasi-middle management positions. They do all the legwork of a regular assistant like myself, but have a bit more hand in the developmental process.

Whatever. This is me not losing any fuckin’ sleep over it.

Now, within the last month, two assistant managers have parted ways with the company. One of these individuals happened to be my boss. If you want a glimpse into the relationship I had with her, see the above paragraph. It pretty much sums up my feelings regarding her departure.

In any event, it did not take long for the interoffice grapevine to circulate, completely nabbing my nuts in a vice grip in the process. See, a couple of the Ivies began to wonder who I’d wind up working under. As in which one of them was gonna be my new boss.

It should be duly noted at this point that I actually have been there longer than all of them, and while I may technically be the low man on the totem, I still have seniority over them. In my mind’s eye, that makes me no one’s bitch.

And it’d appear that my company agrees as I’m basically working under the program manager right now. In short, we just cut out the middleman on this one, and I couldn’t be happier with my current role.

That said, I’m more than a little indignant that some of these Ivy motherfuckers thought they had the right to claim me as their assistant… like I’m just some human baseball card available to be traded around for a Ted Williams rookie in mint condition. What makes me even more irritated is the fact that when the second assistant manager in our division announced her departure today, the same old song and dance ensued, only this time regarding her own assistant. Who again has been here longer than the rest of the damned Ivies.

Now to be fair, I’m only talking about roughly 75 percent of the Ivy grads in my division. I’m cool with some of them, and know they would never condescend to me or my coworker behind my back like that. Hell, at least one of them, a Yale alum, has the goddamn good sense to remember that when he was fresh out the box and green as Ariel Sharon must be right now, he would typically come to me for help and I’d offer him whatever info I could. He hasn’t forgotten that, which is why he didn’t get caught up in such nonsensical gossip.

The others clearly haven’t followed suit.

Not only that, but they’re getting their wish. My co-worker has not been as fortunate as I, and has gone from having one boss to three “bosses.” Known amongst the office as the Sorority (or as I prefer to call them, the Ya-Ya Sisterhood), they are each taking equal share in overseeing my co-worker’s programs, and to boot, they are pretty much letting it be known that they now have more authoritah.

Having not made it to an associate level yet, I would like to think that should I ever get an assistant, I would never walk all over them or rub my title in their eye. I don’t know that their combined attitude is intentional, but at the same time, even it weren’t, I refuse to believe such inconsideration or lack of discipline would wholly justify their behavior.

And to boot, my company basically bends over backwards for these Ivies. Occasionally they get an ace like my former program manager. Other times they don’t. The term I typically use in regard to a couple of these Ivies is “I weep for the future.” And I do, because if employers are willing to pay top dollar for names and not ability, then we really are in the fuckin’ Twilight Zone, people.

‘Cause that’s basically what you pay for with an Ivy League school. A name. It’s brand equity and not necessarily education that’s gonna carry you if you get accepted. Plain and simple. And it’s a known fact that if two individuals, one an Ivy, the other not, with equal qualifications, experience and ability apply for the same position, the Ivy will get it. The other sap doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell, because on paper, an Ivy looks more impressive.

I’d like to offer the notion that despite impressive credentials, not every Ivy is worth the investment. I’m willing to wager that a good number of them might be book-smart, but not have an ounce of street smarts to their name. The latter can go just as far as a degree when you get right down to it.

Put it this way… one Ivy, a Harvard alum, marveled at the fact that our fax machine can send more than one page at a time. I’m seriously not making this up. I couldn’t if I wanted to. I felt like I was watching Legally Blonde 3: Not As Good As Advertised. I wanted to vomit in my hat and then make her wear it… How does someone conjure up that sentence in their head and then actually have the lack of good judgment to spit it out? For that matter, how does one such individual get accepted into what is supposed to be one of the most prestigious schools in the world?

Said prodigy later went on to state that she believed herself to be smarter than many of her co-workers. On paper it may appear that way, but if you were to meet this girl, you’d think she were straight outta the escort section of the Yellow Pages with an IQ to match.

I refuse to believe these people are smarter than me or my fellow grunts.

All the money in the world isn’t gonna change the fact that they are still human, hence imperfect, and therefore have no frickin’ right to place themselves on a higher rung than anyone else.

Again, I realize there are exceptions to every rule. Tragically, I just don’t happen to work with many of them. What’s worse, they are giving a bad name to their alma maters. If they’re any indication of the byproduct of such institutions, I’ll gladly squander my unborn children’s college fund on red wine and He-Man box sets.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna drive to Greenwich to christen a yacht. With kerosene and a blowtorch. Hopefully that’ll put a good dent in mummy and daddy’s college fund and I won’t have to deal with their pampered nimrod asshat of a child in my workspace wondering when I’m gonna start working for their 21-year-old green ass.

Goodnight, and have an enlightened tomorrow.

Alright you Scientologist twits. It's go time. I'm done with the kids gloves. I'm ready to drop trow and pinch one right on L. Ron Hubbard's grave.

I didn't really care much when you brainwashed Cruise. Or Travolta. Certainly didn't give a shit when you mindwarped Kirstie. Shoot, I don't even care if you reached down and plucked cute li'l Joey from Dawson's Creek. Less I see of any of those committed Thetans, the better. Heck, with the mere exception of Top Gun, Pulp Fiction, Cheers and Batman Begins, I could do without their cumulative canon of thespian work. It could all go bye-bye and I wouldn't bat an eye.

But now it's personal. You have claimed the last good and decent soul in this entire godforsaken world.

Isaac Hayes.

You took Chef. You took Shaft (sorta). You took the Duke of New York, A-Number-One. The man has contributed so much to our society, and in one fell swoop you snatched him up and converted him to a card-carrying mental deficient.

For those of you who don't know, or are just plain uncultured, Isaac Hayes quit South Park due to his Scientologist beliefs. I've kept a tight lid on my feelings for a while regarding this so-called religion, but personally, I, like most folks who don't live in L.A., think it's a load of horseshit. Sci-fi writers do not create legitimate religions. If that were the case, I would be a Born-Again Bokononist by now.

And if you don't pick up that reference, you are not well-read, you heathen bitch.

But seriously… Matt Stone brings up a real good point here. How many episodes have lampooned not only Christians, but Jews and Mormons as well? Apparently Scientology doesn't preach religious tolerance, otherwise the once Mighty Mr. Hayes would've packed up shop a long time ago.

Now far be it from me to criticize anyone else's faith… but it has to be a legitimate faith, 'nuff said. I think we're all hip to the fact that this is about as real as Lisa Rinna's lips (and why I even know who she is bugs the frag outta me). By now we're all aware that touting different and controversial religions is just another cool Hollywood trend for the average celeb whose career is slightly flagging. And if ain't Kaballah bracelets, it's Dianetics, not to be confused with Diabetics, though I wouldn't argue with such a confusion as both are synonymous with "lifelong illness."

And I know that the average film star has a remarkably soft brain, but I never in my wildest dreams imagined that anyone would be retarded enough to believe this tripe. I don't care how lost you are in life, you gotta be really feeble-minded to buy into this crew.

And y'know, I've gone real easy on my Scientologist friends. I've been quiet for a long time, simply because no one was listening to their moronic ramblings. I could care less if Katie Holmes disappeared for 16 days and then reemerged as a bona fide Thetan. I really don't mind if these high-ranking Thetans are trying to pull a Patty Hearst on a few useless starlets. The fewer the better. After all, they seem pretty much confined to the left coast, and me being all over here on the east, I'm fairly confident that whatever contact I have with these Hubbard-ites will be limited if not totally non-existent.

But when you start to swipe my most beloved Blaxploitation icons, you have just crossed the line. It's clobberin' time.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Remember, Remember the Fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot.
I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot…

So Warner Bros. is gonna be releasing the comic-to-film translation of V For Vendetta this month. Those who have read my blog for a while should know me to be a comic fanatic, and a fan of comic-based films in general. I’m always leery, however, when independent comics or those of a lesser known stature (read: not Spider-Man or Batman) get optioned. There’s more room for the themes to get misconstrued, and typically these are the books that are pretty detailed and substantial. However, with more “serious” comics getting translated over the last few years (Road To Perdition and A History Of Violence to be specific), I’m actually on the whole quite happy that such diamonds in the rough are able to see the light of day on a grander scale.

Now with the release of V, my curiosity has piqued higher than in quite some time. See, this is another Alan Moore masterpiece. Moore’s work speaks for itself. Beyond just the regular superhero-based stuff (such as Batman: The Killing Joke and Animal Man), he brings strong literary sensibilities to the game and really pushes the envelope to make the reader think. I remember reading The Watchmen some ten years ago, and looking back, I can say that experience may have been the first really pivotal moment in shaping my social and political opinions. If you’ve read it, you know why. If you haven’t, you should. Plain and simple. Hell, they teach college courses on this book… Time Magazine even rated it as one of the 10 best books ever published. Go fuckin’ get it, now.

Having said all this, I’ll spare you all a lengthy diatribe in which I extol the often-overlooked thematic undercurrents ever-present in many a comic. I think many of the old clichés and misconceptions have finally begun to fall by the wayside, in that respect.

Now V is one of the few works in the Moore canon that I have glazed over. So recently, at a trip to a Barnes & Noble, I picked up a copy and began to read through it a bit. It didn’t take long before I was entranced, very much in the same manner I was when I first picked up Watchmen. Rather than be a bum and peruse the sucker right then and there in a crowded bookstore (I just don’t wanna be “that guy”), I ordered the book online (I may not be “that guy,” but I am price-savvy, dammit) and read through it in a week’s time upon delivery.

The basic story tells of a fascist England in the not too distant future, and the twisted terrorist vigilante known only as “V” who strives to bring balance to the virtual prison state by implementing the two most powerful, offsetting weapons at his disposal: anarchy and chaos.

He does this all while presenting an homage to Guy Fawkes, replete with cape, boots, conical hat and Harlequin mask depicting Fawkes’ visage. Fawkes, of course, is one of the major players in the “Gunpowder Plot” which took place on November 5th, 1604. The limerick atop this post is famous in England for referencing the historic undertaking and is also quoted early on in V. As a member of a Catholic conspiracy to overthrow the Protestant rule of England, he was the one that lit the fuse to the explosive agents intended to blow up Parliament and kill King James I. Fawkes was hanged for his rebellion just over one year later, but did live to see bonfires being lit on the one-year anniversary of his storied escapade in commemoration of his deeds.

People celebrating anarchy. Think about that.

Then again, until 1959, it was illegal to not to celebrate the anniversary of Fawkes’ arrest in England. Even today, he still exists somewhere between lowly traitor and revered hero.

What am I getting at here?

Well, for starters, I don’t feel that anarchy is necessarily a bad thing… under the right circumstances. I would never be one to just up and say, “Hey! Let’s overthrow the government and break out some Twister!” But as V notes in the book, anarchy does not equate to a lack of order, just a lack of government. And under nominal circumstances, I think that could be a good thing.

In fact, follow me if you can, as my logic is like most things in my life: just a little twisted.

See, ancient democracy was founded on the principle that a society could be governed by the people. This is why we elect government officials who are essentially hand-plucked from the cities and towns of our great nation. However, as time has progressed and we have distanced ourselves greatly from the teachings of the ancient Greeks in every sense, and I believe that government is no different. This is not by virtue of the people per se, although I do think that the modern politician has gone to great lengths to separate himself from the plebeians that schlep this pebble.

This is accomplished, naturally, while said ubiquitous politician attempts to make it known that he is “a man of the people.” In some cases, “for the people.” Dear reader, we both know that this is normally bullshit, so why sugarcoat the obvious? These leaders aren’t really about people. Most of them led pampered lives, went to private schools, were born into wealth and were probably pretty pampered from conception up to their mid-30’s or later. Not only are they not men of the people, but they’re mostly out for themselves. Even the cleanest looking, most seemingly trustworthy candidate often proves that no one is exempt from the pitfalls of the power trip. Indulgences in this case run the full gamut of sexual deviance, bribery, white collar crime, cheez doodles, etc. I know that there are exceptions to every norm, but I think that you’ll agree with me that this is typical of most political sorts, regardless of their party affiliation. I may be registered with the Democratic party, but I’ve come to realize that everyone’s guilty (I’m way beyond the excuse of “nobody’s perfect”).

So when you take all this into account, it would seem that the principles of our political system have been pretty well shat upon, and maybe it’s time to mix up our game a bit. Don’t ya think? At least a li’l?

Let me clarify for those of you who are going to see the movie and/or have read the book: I’m not condoning V’s actions. He’s a terrorist, plain and simple… he makes no bones about it, and he feels the means justify the end. I don’t know that I would take it that far in this ideology. I’m not that much of an extremist.

That being said, there is some twisted logic to V’s beliefs, even if they do drive him to dangerous levels. The state of the U.K. as depicted by Moore is so brutally Orwellian, so harsh and so overbearing that his actions in this case are justified. When you live in an environment in which the government is omnipresent and power-hungry, I don’t think revolution is such a bad idea.

Now I don’t for one second believe that our country is anywhere near as bad as 1984. But I could see where there would be potential for such obsession on the government’s part. I can definitely shades of control and paranoia in such bits and pieces as the Patriot Act, the FCC’s massive censorship push, and let’s not forget our current foreign policies and international landscape which, if not handled correctly, could paint our nation into the corner of being wholly isolationist for our own protection. It may sound like a bit much to you, but to me, I can see where this may happen.

I doubt we’ll see this day anytime soon, but for a long time, I was genuinely convinced that there would be some kind of countercultural revolution the likes of which we last saw in the late 1960’s at the height of our involvement in the Vietnam War under Nixon. Call me nutty, but I really did believe that this was gonna happen. And I maintain that the potential still exists for such social upheaval. I refuse to postulate as to the probability of such rebellion, although I think that in some small ways, the seeds of restlessness have already been planted.

At the core of such dissatisfaction (which, as we can all agree, is not just born of my own personal feelings, but largely shared by roughly half the populous) is the belief (I said “belief,” not “fact,” don’t lynch me yet) that our current administration is… well, less than competent in their actions and policies. There are quite simply a great many people out there who really feel as if the current political landscape is Quadrophenia’s hypothetical teenage wasteland amplified to match the age of the individuals involved, but not quite their maturity/intellect. The belief amongst such people is that the administration has made a lot of very, very bad decisions, and many are looking forward to the day when they are no longer at the top of the D.C. Totem.

You can take that any way you want. Me, I happen to agree with this group of people. Proudly, at that. You don’t have to like it.

So this is where my take on V’s anarchistic undertones comes into play…
If the officials we elect as “representatives” of the people clearly fail to provide the people with what they want and/or need, is it not just of us to devise a different system under which we can run our society? Perhaps the anarchistic mindset of a government-less civilization is not without its merit. Since we can’t seem to develop a third party in this nation worth a shit, it stands to reason that perhaps anarchy might lend itself to genuine democratic ideals in that the people govern, and not figureheads (read: elected officials circa 2006 A.D.). And to boot, there is no trust whatsoever amongst these elected officials in reality, and that is well illustrated in Alan Moore’s original story. How can the people trust the ones they elect to run the nation when the elected can’t even trust one another? Simply put, the worst part of politics is the politicking. ‘Nuff said.

Perhaps the main reason that the story appeals to me so much is because the character of V is as much an artist as he is a radical… equal parts Fawkes and Rembrandt, he appears a genuine Renaissance man that is versed in music, poetry, theater, etc. So it’s an interesting dichotomy regarding this apparent lunatic who seems intent on overthrowing the establishment who is also able to play the piano and appreciates the classics. It seems to imply that such passions are now considered more than just indulgences and just might be illegal in this hypothetical future Moore has crafted. Hey, with all the hysteria about censorship and indecency, with books, movies and DJs receiving threats of exile due to “suggestive content,” the alternative doesn’t seem half bad to me, folks. It’s like V says in the graphic novel: “Ideas are bulletproof.”

I kinda like the notion that free thought is just that: free. And unless it harms a lot of innocent people, I don’t see why it should be regulated in any way shape or form. And if there ever does come a time when such policies are put into effect, you better believe that the revolution V incites will be nothin’ compared to the live show right in front of your face.

For the time being, I’m looking forward to the movie, and can only hope it will be a faithful adaptation of the book. I also hope it’ll at least get the brains of a select few peons moving enough to look beyond the fact that it’s just another action flick by the dudes who did The Matrix trilogy. God willing they’ll actually be able to get the message across this time around, because it really is worth the extra effort.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.