Throwing your words back atcha: “And that formula is so sound, so secure, so firm and fixed in our culture that moviemakers need only touch on those bedrocks briefly and perfunctorily before we give them clearance to throw story, emotion, and plausibility out the window in a wild rush of specially effect action sequences that should – let’s be honest – require no justification … because they are, really, the thing people paid to see, no matter how much they protest that it’s story they’re looking for.” I actually totally disagree with you – that the only reason people go see comic book movies is to see shit blow up (or, even more bizarrely, to fetishize all the gadgets and gizmos). That said, I’ll indulge your line of argument. (Did that sound as assified as I think it did?)

Well. I’ve just reread your (monster-size) post, and – if you’ll forgive me the annoying workshoppy word – you’ve given me a lot to unpack here. I want to touch on two points before I call it a night. You say that you don’t doubt that superhero movies could be great but that “they haven’t been yet.” Are you sure you really believe that? It’s awfully early to take such a conciliatory tone. So for, er, textual evidence, you point to the first half of Batman Begins, saying that you dug it for the first half, but that it fell apart for you when the Scarecrow showed up. Um, you mean the part where it actually feels like a comic book?? Because as far as I remember, the first half of Batman Begins (the origin story, the study under Ra's Al Ghul) plays first as a drama, then a tragedy, and finally as warrior training camp starring Christian Bale as young grasshopper. In short, the first half isn’t fantastical or implausible (implausible, at least, according to the rules of our real-life, sans-superhero mortal plane). So what you're saying is, that particular comic book movie failed once it fully embraced its comic book elements. Because it embraced its comic book elements. And for his next trick, watch Josh chase his own tail! Point two coming up shortly…

Welcome to the day, Josh. It''s nice to hear from you... although I think this whole late-sleeper thing might just be a ruse for some dirty-rat strategizing -- meaning, you've come out swinging just as I've hit the late-afternoon "all-I-want-to-do-is-find-a-mat-and-take-a-nap" stretch of the day. Which is all my long-winded way of saying: Yeah, my rebuttal's going to have to wait until I've had dinner... and a long walk with the dog... and maybe a cocktail to clear the head... In the meantime, I thought I'd point out that the Chicago Tribune's Red Eye supplement is running a Greatest Superhero Tourney, along with a whole host of other superhero-related shenanigans, like a photo gallery of superhero-inspired fashions. (link via Pop Candy) And finally, in a spot of administrative business, the voting apparatus should be up and running now to your right, dear reader. You can vote whenever you like for which one of us you think is "winning" -- just remember, you can only vote once a day, so use that vote wisely.

Good morning, Kim. I should have known I’d wake up today to find three entries from you. It takes a special kind of cruelty to sucker punch a man first thing in the morning – before he’s had a chance to meditate, no less – with a three-entry attack, but you are apparently possessed of such cruelty. Which goes a long way toward explaining why I like you so much. But enough flattery! This isn’t Film Flatter; this is Film Fight! (We all remember what happened last year when the Chronicle tried a Film Flatter blog. To this day, I get angry letters from the Episcopal Church ... and I still can't put weight on my left leg.) First, I just want to say that we’re not inventing the wheel with this Film Fight idea of ours, unfortunately. As much as I’d like to think we are, the idea is almost as old as movies themselves. I’m reminded of Pauline Kael and Penelope Gilliatt’s legendary battles in the early Seventies over whether or not Warren Beatty’s being naked made a movie worth seeing. Kael claimed it did, while Gilliatt, ever the contrarian, argued that it really did. That battle raged for months - over the telephone, over drinks at 21, in William Shawn’s bathroom – before Kael famously won the argument by pushing Gilliatt down the stairs of the New Yorker offices and then sleeping with her husband. Let’s hope our battle doesn’t come to that. Though I don’t make any promises.

Screenwriter Carrie Crain knows how to promote her work. The Austin scribe recently finished her screenplay Souled about a woman who sells her soul on eBay. Naturally, Crain is now selling her own soul on eBay, and the publicity stunt seems to be working. Today it quickly shot onto CNN's radar. But, alas, the listing seems to have been squashed by the eBay police, even though the starting bid was a mere $1,000. And there is precedent, with similar soul sales taking place on eBay at least twice according to what I found on a Google search. The previous souls weren't as expensive, starting at a bargain basement 99 cents. Crain promised the winner of her item a spiritual certificate of authenticity, something we all could use. UPDATE: Crain's listing is back in a form perhaps more agreeable to eBay. Check it out here. She already has her first bid.

At the risk of spiraling this thing into tangent only hours into its inception: In my last post I touched on how subjective the critic's job is and how some reviews age, for the critic, more squirmingly than others... something Kenneth Turan just talked about yesterday on the L.A. Times blog, after being asked if he ever second-guessed his own opinion. His cheeky opening salvo: "I am not now nor have I ever been mistaken in my judgment about a film." He then goes on to talk about Amores Perros, Alejandro González Iñárritu's attention-getting and near universally acclaimed debut feature, which Turan felt kinda "meh" about: "To pretend either to like it or that I didn't really have an opinion, to pretend in effect that I was someone else to save face and be one of the gang, was simply unacceptable. Criticism is a lonely job, and in the final analysis, either you're a gang of one or you're nothing at all." Indeed. So come on already, Josh. This gang of one is tapping its foot impatiently, eager to hear what your gang of one has to say back. (link via Hitsville)

So some years back I wrote a positive review about the much-reviled comic book movie Daredevil. I didn’t make any friends with the fanboys for it, I’m sure, and nobody’s gonna hire me as professional prognosticator – I said that its director had written his meal ticket with the picture. (To whatever bunker you’ve burrowed into, Mark Steven Johnson, I send you a half-hearted shrug.***) All that said, there’s something in the Daredevil review that I’d like to reference. Copping to my utter lack of comic book knowledge, I said that all I was looking for in a comic book movie was “a good yarn, punchy action sequences, and a couple of forbidden kisses.” And that’s still, more or less, my criteria for comic book movies – and most other pop entertainments of the action ilk. The best of the bunch – the first two X-Men movies, I would argue – transcend their pop trappings to achieve something more profound. Scratch “transcend” – that suggests that they have to dig themselves out of a genre ghetto. But in these movies, the ones I would argue are art, not simply entertainment, they speak to something about the human condition in a way that is unique to the superhuman. So that's it for now – I cede the soapbox to you, Josh. I'm curious to hear how you defend writing off an entire genre of film. Seriously: What gives?

Good morning to all, and welcome to our first-ever Film Fight. Not sure what I'm talking about? Go here for a thorough explanation. But in brief: My film critic compadre Josh Rosenblatt and I will spend the week duking it out over comic-book movies. I like 'em; he hates 'em. And … go. Okay, actually, first, a little context before we get the ball rolling: I've never read a comic book before. I, like you, Josh, come at this purely as a filmgoer. We’re not here to argue about which comic book movies show the most fidelity to the source, ‘cause neither of us have a clue – and in that, I think we’re representative of the majority of audiences watching comic book movies. Which is to say, most of us have a glancing relationship to comic books at best. Are we missing some of the nuance? Sure. But a lot of this stuff is so deeply imbedded in our pop culture now that we can get by without knowing the source. So, moving on: I got a beef with your basic argument, Josh. I mean, sure, we’ve all got our biases – neither of one of us will touch torture porn with a ten foot pole (and while we’re on the subject, may we send a shoutout to our compatriot Marc Savlov, without whom Josh and I would have to get a whole lot closer than ten feet to said genre). But given the awesome scope of comic books (and the more elegant-seeming graphic novel form) … well, to reject the whole passel seems like crazy talk, pure and simple. But we’re not here to talk, are we? We’re here to FIGHT.

She's become a YouTube celeb for the kick-ass kick she planted on an overzealous and probably over-served fan at the Saxon Pub. Now Paula Nelson is kicking it up as Michael Madsen's mistress in the political thriller Conflict of Interest. Even more interesting and synchronistic, Saxon Pub owner Joe Ables plays the role of a judge in the film, which recently shot hereabouts. Paula's mother Connie Nelson is also in the film, as is rocker George Devore, who portrays a bartender.