“Tony”: The Secret Origin of Why He Went by ‘Anthony’

Tony Movie Poster with Dominic Sessa glaring at us, and Bourdain's description of his own younger self: "I was -- to be frank -- a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless young lout and badly in need of a good ass-kicking."

Uhh, this entry is rated PG for the impolite word in its poster.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: The period-piece dramedy The Holdovers was one of my favorite films of 2023 for numerous reasons, including but not limited to Dominic Sessa in his charismatic feature-film debut as a cocky boarding-school senior whose family abandons him for Christmas and who learns humility and maybe a few manners as he eventually realizes smart-mouthing everyone around him can only get him so far in life.

Ever since, I’ve been itching to see what else he can do. I wasn’t compelled to endure the third Now You See Me, mind you, so I’ve had to bide my time. Sessa finally resurfaced on my radar as the star of Tony, a narrowly focused biopic of the late author, chef and TV documentarian Anthony Bourdain. Full disclosure: I didn’t follow him closely enough to be a “fan” — nothing against him personally, but humanity has spawned tens of thousands of creators and celebrities within the past century and I can’t possibly track them all. Years ago I watched one episode of Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, his season-3 trip to Cleveland featuring American Splendor comics creator Harvey Pekar and legendary drummer Marky Ramone — i.e., possibly its most me-targeted episode ever. I was fascinated, but I failed to stick around for more. I’ve also read two of the three graphic novels he co-wrote with novelist Joel Rose. And I was aware of his online presence from a distance, tangentially, until his untimely and horrifying passing at age 61.

By no means did I see Tony with any kind of thorough Bourdain-head foreknowledge or preconceptions beyond awareness of his forceful personality, his radically diverse palate borne of decades of culinary experience, and his passion for international travel that made our family’s annual road trips look like neighborhood errand-running. That’s all I brought with me into the theater.

Continue reading

The Winning Case of “Coyote vs. Acme”

Wile E. Coyote holds his arms wide at a negotiating table. Seated next to him is a befuddled lawyer.

Wile E, Will. Will, Wile E.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: Nearly three years ago I wrote about the plight of Coyote vs. Acme, the latest Looney Tunes feature film that was in post-production when Warner Brothers announced they’d changed their mind and they’d rather throw the whole thing off a cliff, toss a boulder on it, and declare it a loss on their tax forms. And yet it lives! A groundswell of omnipartisan internet wrath erupted in protest of this craven act of corporate greed and/or executive senselessness and/or misunderstanding by inattentive cartoon watchers who thought Yosemite Sam and Elmer Fudd were the good guys.

The kindly third-party folks at Ketchup Entertainment stepped up and overpaid to save the day and distribute the finished work. WB overlord David Zaslav and his starchy-suited lackeys underestimated how many of us are old enough to remember all those classic shorts in their prime, back when broadcast networks and local syndicated channels could proudly display their innovative slapstick zaniness uncut and uncensored before the devil invented the helicopter-parenting lobbying cults that demanded they be ruined for the sake of undiscerning latchkey kids who might see Bugs Bunny’s antics, get sinister ideas about ordering anvils from Amazon and going on squashing sprees.

The Looney Tunes legacy lives on in the hands of director Dave Green (Earth to Echo) and screenwriter Samy Burch (May December), who shares “Story By” credit with James Gunn (!!) and Jeremy Slater (Moon Knight, Mortal Kombat II), all of whom adapt a 1990 New Yorker article that I’m surprised isn’t paywalled as of this writing. Their efforts weren’t in vain thanks to You, The Viewers at Home, who would’ve looked collectively stupid if this had sucked as much as the Space Jam series did. I’m excited and relieved to report it doesn’t, so rest assured y’all didn’t waste your time. And now you can follow through on your alleged passion and actually go see it in the theater! I mean, you already did and I don’t need to bother writing about it, right?

…right?

…oh, internet. *sigh*

Continue reading

Yes, There’s a Scene After the “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” End Credits

Murderer wearing white jumpsuit and black box on head stands with spear at attention like a soldier

Little Death is watching you watching them!

Hats off to writer/director Jane Schoenbrun for contributing to one of the most convoluted entry titles in MCC history! Not that I’m complaining — tortured syntax is among my numerous writing vices, and I’ll take whatever unwitting aiding and abetting I can get in my syntactical torturing. To clarify: Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma is the full name of Schoenbrun’s third film, after We’re All Going to the World’s Fair and I Saw the TV Glow. I’m a big fan of creative film-titling and increasingly unimpressed by one-word titles that tell you absolutely nothing distinctive about the work, especially if six other unrelated films had that name first.

This is also only the second time in our 14-year run that the word “sex” has appeared in an entry title. (The first was, shall we say, not about “sex positivity”.) As a self-admitted prude, I’ve been pretty okay with that particular dearth. But after reading a few reviews of this most unusual film — one part meta-horror satire of slasher-flick revivals, one part slippery-reality self-discovery vision quest — I was curious to experience it for myself. I correctly guessed parts of it would be Not My Thing, but Camp Miasma‘s blood-soaked, mind-bending campground has plenty to unpack.

Continue reading

Yes, There’s Barely a Scene After the “Spider-Man: Brand New Day” End Credits

Tom Holland as Spidey standing in front of prison bars. Face is battered, eyes have turned totally black.

Are you ready for…DARK SPIDER-MAN? (No, not Venom.)

Previously on Spider-Man: Five years ago as the pandemic trended downward — been a while! — No Way Home capped off Tom Holland’s first trilogy by ruining Peter Parker’s life even more depressingly than usual. The This Is Your Life fan-service parade of Spideys and Spider-villains from Spider-cinema past were a delight despite the Major Character Death casting a pall, though The Battle of the Spider-Stars fizzled out in its showdown letdown, a blurry mishmash of scaffolds and weightless automata typifying the rushed VFX of many a post-Endgame superhero blockbuster. But the deepest problem was the story structure itself, a betrayal of “With great power comes great responsibility”, the very heart of every version of the Spider-mythos: taking “great responsibility” began with Peter asking Dr. Strange to fix all his problems for him, and ended with him asking Strange to fix all his new problems that “fixing” his old problems caused in the first place. As I wrote in irritation afterward: “Having a fairy godfather wish your problems away isn’t taking Great Responsibility. That’s weaseling out.” That goes for both times.

Any subsequent Spider-film had two options to get unstuck from that morass: either pretend it never happened and reboot the franchise again with yet another new cast; or spend the entire next film climbing out of that hole. Praise be, then, to director Destin Daniel Cretton (Shang-Chi, Wonder Man) and returning Spider-writers Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers for committing to option B in Spider-Man: Brand New Day, Spidey’s ninth solo film and the 38th film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. It’s still obligated to invite non-Spider guests and set up future Marvel projects, but within those corporate restraints, Cretton and crew bring back the Spider-basics of comics yore: no multiverse, no intergalactic space travel, nothing otherdimensional or mystical or meta, it’s an intensely metropolitan adventure that returns to Homecoming‘s street-level superheroics, invests time and energy in repairing shattered relationships, whips up a flurry of fun along the way, and lets that Major Character Death count for something besides shock value.

Continue reading

“The Odyssey”: In the Shadow of Troy

Matt Damon leads several Greek soldiers through a forest and panics.

Bourne-Hur.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: Oppenheimer afforded Academy Award Winner Sir Christopher Nolan a “king of the world” moment that his hardcore fans had been anticipating for years. Few other directors, if any, could’ve reaped a nine-digit box office take and filled a movie-trophy case with a big-budget historical saga about a haunted man who’s hailed as a hero by his peers for having a singular idea that took a team to execute and ended a lengthy war at the cost of countless innocent lives in the process, only to end the film with a monologue about his hubris, sins, and regrets, all as an admonishment to a humankind too quick to celebrate his body count and one day repeat his mistakes.

Handed a virtual blank check to make all his creative impulses come true henceforth in perpetuity, yet again Nolan defied today’s moneymaking traditions in favor of a pet project: a lavish adaptation of Homer’s Odyssey. Sixty years ago it might’ve been reimagined as a bloated three-hour musical with far less blood and lots of female backup dancers, but 20th-century filmmakers generally limited themselves mostly to shorter, less sprawling Greco-Roman fantasies augmented by Ray Harryhausen wizardry, almost as if the Directors Guild unanimously decided to leave it alone until that magical day when a Chosen One might rise up and make it happen.

The usual Nolan superfan excitement was muddled by detractors decrying its Hamilton-style casting process that tampered with the strict historical record, not to mention the fact that this is possibly the first Greek epic ever performed entirely in plain American accents — nary an imperious British lilt from the entire cast, not even among its UK-born costars. So far they’ve been pretty mum about the unrealistic portrayals of the Cyclops, the ten-foot-tall super-soldiers, and the conversations with ghosts. I look forward to their three-hour YouTube rants about the Indian-descended Sir Ben Kingsley and the half-Iraqi Andy Serkis each playing real-life, milky-white Englishmen in Young Washington.

Continue reading

“Supergirl”: Fill Your Hand, You Son of a Bastich!

A dour Supergirl warming up her heat vision.

If you think you get red-eyed when you’re drunk…

Previously on the all-new DC Universe: With last year’s Superman, James Gunn admirably rebooted Warner Bros’ big-screen superhero canon that kept putting the “League” in “beleaguered” with every new misfire. Rather than fully suppress the bad-boy edginess of his Guardians of the Galaxy trilogy — which worked for that particular motley crew, don’t get me wrong — Gunn shrewdly tapped humankind’s self-inflicted age of cynicism as a chief antagonist to the Big Blue Boy Scout’s superpowered optimism. He wasn’t necessarily renouncing “attitude” as a marketing mood, so much as he was conceding there are other ways to approach conflicts in modern life. In his own way, he celebrated Supes’ innate idealism more than any other feature filmmaker so far this millennium.

As is the procedure for every rebooted superhero timeline, Superman was a bit overstuffed with other faces from the original comics, because every comics-to-screen writer cannot resist grabbing every toy out of the IP toybox for as long as they’re allowed to reach under the lid, and studio execs do love offering lots of character options to their action-figure designers and other merch collaborators. Among the most logical inclusions was his cousin Kara Zor-El, but as played by Milly Alcock (House of the Dragon), her graceless debut had her drunkenly slouching into Supes’ Fortress of Solitude to fetch her furry pal Krypto and make the audience aware she’s no Helen Slater or Melissa Benoist. She’s young, she parties, she’s in-your-face, she’s super coooool just like You, The Viewers at Home! If the Guardians of the Galaxy threw a space kegger, she’d totally be invited and drink everyone under the table!

It’s no surprise that first up for a Superman Spinoff Showcase is Supergirl, which I understand is based on or at least inspired by Tom King and Bilquis Evely’s Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow miniseries/trade. I’ve been meaning to read it for years but keep forgetting to buy it, so I have little basis for adaptation comparison and no predisposition toward giving it straight A’s just because I’m a fan of King’s. I bet I’ll like the book a lot better.

Continue reading

Yes, There Are Scenes During and After the “Toy Story 5” End Credits

An angry Sheriff Jessie and a shocked Bullseye face the green nemesis Lilypad, who's mostly out of frame.

How Green Was My Varmint.

Previously on Toy Story: After Toy Story 3 proved the perfect finale for Pixar’s flagship series, the formerly impeccable animation studio held the IP upside-down and shook really hard to see if any more coins might fall out of Hamm’s back-hole. I later summed up the fourth one

The series was OVER. The trilogy was COMPLETE. The finale with Bonnie was PERFECT. But no, Pixar had to yank out the stitches on that beautiful closure and march Bonnie’s toys through the motions of yet another toys-on-the-run escapade that benches half its all-stars, loses track of its own rules, manufactures one needless chase too many, and drops one of its decent, nonwhite human characters into a disturbingly harrowing police encounter — blithely pretending such a scene evokes absolutely no alarming real-world relevance — all so Sheriff Woody can ride off into the sunset AGAIN, but this time literally instead of metaphorically. We were FINE with “metaphorically”.

Our family crossed Pixar films off our automatic-theater-trip shortlist years ago. Among the next nine films since TS3, I’ve only seen three on the big screen and have yet to fire up Hoppers or The Good Dinosaur. I refused in advance to let the inevitable Toy Story 5 be an easy sell. The presence of director Andrew Stanton — overseer of the classics Finding Nemo and WALL-E — brought slight hope till I remembered his last time at a Pixar helm was Finding Dory, ten years ago and just-okay. But a few tidbits among the pro critics’ advance reviews caught my attention, chiefly that Stanton and co-writer Kenna Harris (a Pixar staffer responsible for Luca‘s epilogue short Ciao Alberto) found new conflicts to explore for a few of the toys and for li’l Bonnie herself, their current caretaker.

Continue reading

“The Furious”: Won’t Somebody From “The Raid” Please Think About the Children

Two Asian men stand side-by-side on a grungy nighttime street, not happy.

Our heroes, Xie Miao and Joe Taslim.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: Once every decade some indie studio will scrounge up enough money to afford a brief wide release for a brutal foreign-language martial-arts flick to remind Americans the John Wick series isn’t the be-all-end-all of the genre. The last one I saw on the big screen was 2014’s The Raid 2, so I’m pretending to be an authority here. Such works rarely hit the big screen near us, or if they do, nobody tells me. Not that I watch a lot of them anyway, but at last, another one has broken through that isn’t a Raid sequel!

Judging by US box office tallies, nobody noticed last weekend’s premiere of The Furious, the third work from Kenji Tanigaki as a primary director. He’s a longtime stunt coordinator with a hand in numerous Western movies from Blade II to Snake Eyes: GI Joe Origins, who also collaborated with four writers on the six or seven minutes’ worth of scenes that are not fights. For anyone who hoped Mortal Kombat II‘s tournament would be more a visceral thrill-ride but found its sci-fi artificiality a cartoonish letdown, The Furious is here for you.

The Gist: THEY FIGHT! AND FIGHT! AND FIGHT AND FIGHT AND FIGHT! FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT! FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT!

Continue reading

What Our Theater Added After the “Backrooms” End Credits

Therapist looks trepidatiously around an all-yellow room, seemingly empty except two blue strips of tape on the wall behind her.

o/~ Oh, what a thing to do, and it was all yellow… o/~

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: Longtime MCC readers may recall I’m not of Generation YouTube and don’t really keep tabs on any of their channels or series except Screen Junkies’ “Honest Trailers”. Bonus points go to creator/director Kane Parsons for grabbing my attention with his feature-film debut Backrooms, which builds on his YouTube horror series of the same name that I’d never heard of until I saw the trailer and may have held my breath for a moment as I thought to myself, I’ve had dreams exactly like this.

Continue reading

“Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu” Presents Baby Yoda: The Motion Picture

Baby Yoda stands on sand and salutes you. Standing next to him are Din Djarin's shiny boots.

IT’S GROGIN’ TIME!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: We watch Star Wars movies and shows! My wife Anne and I have kept up with most of the Disney+ series, for better or worse. We aren’t unconditional superfans preaching, “If it says Star Wars on it, it’s A+++!” in a glassy-eyed haze, nor do we hate-watch it and share high-strung “cave-geek shakes impotent angry fist at toy line” harangues for hollow YouTube bucks while our souls decompose into gnarled, oily nubs.

The far-faraway galaxy is large; it contains multitudes. Granted, that’s more of a four-quadrant marketing design than a magnanimous diversity credo. Billion-dollar corporations don’t stay megalithic by catering exclusively to any singular faction. The universe that began with the classic Jedi lightsaber battles of your sacrosanct childhood memories — or your children’s, if you’ve passed down your pop-culture heritage to them! — also includes the protracted Clone Wars continuity, the politically charged Andor, the kiddie-cartoon-to-steely-drama evolution of Star Wars Rebels, the cosmopolitan artistic experiments of Star Wars Visions, the books and comics that can matter but usually don’t, in-story toyetic adverts, nostalgia-pandering, Morals of the Story, super awesome EXPLOSIONS, the aesthetic sins and redemptive apologia of Jar-Jar Binks, spaceships, Halloween masks, clothing lines, infrequent moments of This Is Cinema, and, yes, the character we knew for years as Baby Yoda till The Powers That Be eventually bothered to name him.

Continue reading

“Mortal Kombat II”: Another Chosen One Inserts Fifty Cents

Karl Urban as Johnny Cage manning a comic-con table covered in his own merchandise, mostly awful DVDs.

Alas, Johnny Cage might have an autograph line if only he’d ever done some anime voice-work.

Previously on Mortal Kombat: I’m not a deeply invested fan — even “fan” might be an overstatement — but I’ve dabbled in the franchise. Back in my fast-food management days, after closing time a friend and I would hang out at a local 24-hour grocery that had a Mortal Kombat II cabinet by the front doors. Their overnight crew ignored us while we virtually whaled on each other for a while. I learned the moves for Liu Kang and Jax, just barely enough to get by, but I was never a serious threat. Years later I saw the first live-action MK film on VHS -– Paul W.S. Anderson’s primitive directorial debut that should’ve been irredeemably terrible. It bunny-hopped over the low bar of “better than most direct-to-video martial-arts schlock” for its time. I may have even laughed once or twice at intentionally funny parts. Obviously one game plus one B-movie doesn’t quite add up to MK geek-cred.

I didn’t bother with TV-commercial director Simon McQuoid’s 2021 Mortal Kombat reboot in its COVID-era release. Reviews weren’t encouraging, but audiences — not at the American box office, but somewhere out there — apparently plunked down just enough quarters to continue the game anyway. I would’ve ignored Mortal Kombat II just as hard if the trailers hadn’t thrown in a new, confusing element that begged the question: what is Karl Urban doing in there? Curiosity got the best of me. I even prepped for the occasion by watching the last film (streaming on Max), mostly regretted it, and committed to letting the sequel pummel me on the big screen, for better or worse.

Really, though: Karl Urban? Eomer? Billy Butcher? Skurge? Dr. McCoy? Judge Dredd? THAT Karl Urban?

Continue reading

“Fuze”: 4 Guys Walk Under a Bank

Military man Aaron Taylor-Johnson lies on ground, stares at two snaking black wires.

“Wait, which do I snip first, the black wire or the blacker wire?”

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: Sometimes I go to the movies and write about it! After the dense Oscars season ran me ragged through early March, I was okay with taking a break. It wasn’t completely by choice, mind you. The April release calendar seemed sparse except for a trio of populist colossi that toppled all competitors at the box office and had nothing to do with me: two sequels to films I hadn’t seen yet, and a sugarcoated pop-music hagiography that was all its subject’s undiscerning superfans really wanted, the better to revivify the estate’s merchandise sales and back-catalog earnings. Theater owners shoveled plenty of money into their coffers without me thanks to…well, to the average crowds who almost never step inside theaters anymore, really. Cinema is back, baby! I guess!

Remember last century when folks would pick a night and time to go to the movies, show up, then see what’s showing and decide what they wanted to see? No, really, this was a common activity for friends, family, and dates. I tried it a few times — sometimes to happy surprise (My Best Friend’s Wedding!) and sometimes to deep hurting (Problem Child 2). I haven’t done that in ages, but I toyed with the modern equivalent: I kept checking the AMC app every week and waiting for something — anything — to jump out at me and whisper, “Don’t let your entire AMC Stubs monthly fee go to waste!” Exactly once in April, I spotted a listing with just enough pedigree to earn a “sure, why not” outing: a short, twisty British heist thriller called Fuze that hardly garnered any public notice. It didn’t crack the U.S. Top 10 in its first week and was yanked from all local screens the next weekend. It’ll be streaming at the end of May, and probably discounted before autumn, but its thoughtful approach to well-trodden ground deserves a mention.

Continue reading

Happy Free Comic Book Day 2026 and/or Comics Giveaway Day 2026!

Twelve free comics, details below.

Once again putting the “fun” back in “Reading is fundamental!”

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: the first Saturday of every May is Free Comic Book Day, an annual celebration when comic shops nationwide offer no-strings-attached goodies as a form of community outreach in honor of that time-honored medium where words and pictures dance in unison on the printed page, whether in the form of super-heroes, blood-soaked horror, all-ages cartoon characters, licensed merchandise, or what-have-you. It’s one of the best holidays ever for hobbyists like me who’ve been comics readers since the days when drugstores sold them for thirty-five cents each and comic-book movies were made on a budget of about $35 each.

Each year comic shops lure fans and curious onlookers inside their brick-and-mortar hideaways with a big batch of free new comics from all the major publishers and a bevy of smaller competitors deserving shelf space and consideration. I observe the holiday by getting up early, venturing to one or more comic shops as soon as they open for their occasion, picking up samples, and spending money on a few extra items as my way of thanking the proprietors for their service in the field of literacy.

Continue reading

My 2025 Reading Stacks #5 of 5: Graphic Storytelling Finale

Five graphic novels, refer to capsules.

Category 1: creator-owned books!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

Welcome once again to our recurring MCC feature in which I scribble capsule reviews of everything I’ve read lately that was published in a physical format over a certain page count with a squarebound spine on it — novels, original graphic novels, trade paperbacks, infrequent nonfiction dalliances, and so on. Due to the way I structure my media-consumption time blocks, the list will always feature more graphic novels than works of prose and pure text, though I do try to diversify my literary diet as time and acquisitions permit.

Occasionally I’ll sneak in a contemporary review if I’ve gone out of my way to buy and read something brand new. Every so often I’ll borrow from my wife or from our local library. But the majority of our spotlighted works are presented years after the rest of the world already finished and moved on from them because I’m drawing from my vast unread pile that presently occupies four oversize shelves comprising thirty-three years of uncontrolled book shopping. I’ve occasionally pruned the pile, but as you can imagine, cut out one unread book and three more take its place…

…but at least the following OGNs and trades have been rescued from the unread pile and can move on to their next home, by which I mean the endless stacks in our library/Anne’s office, where they and the past several years’ other finished works wait for us to figure out which major appliance to get rid of so we can make room for a new bookshelf. I mean, do we really need a refrigerator?

Anyway, onward!

Continue reading

My 2025 Reading Stacks #4: All the Prose That’s Left to Print

The first four books reviewed below.

First up: books with movie connections!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

Welcome once again to our recurring MCC feature in which I scribble capsule reviews of everything I’ve read lately that was published in a physical format over a certain page count with a squarebound spine on it — novels, original graphic novels, trade paperbacks, infrequent nonfiction dalliances, and so on. Due to the way I structure my media-consumption time blocks, the list will always feature more graphic novels than works of prose and pure text, though I do try to diversify my literary diet as time and acquisitions permit.

Occasionally I’ll sneak in a contemporary review if I’ve gone out of my way to buy and read something brand new. Every so often I’ll borrow from my wife or from our local library. But the majority of our spotlighted works are presented years after the rest of the world already finished and moved on from them because I’m drawing from my vast unread pile that presently occupies four oversize shelves comprising thirty-three years of uncontrolled book shopping. I’ve occasionally pruned the pile, but as you can imagine, cut out one unread book and three more take its place…

…unless we do as Heracles and Iolaus did with the Hydra: set everything on fire so it can’t regrow. We’re not doing that; consequently, the never-ending literary consumption continues. So far we’ve covered two critical tomes by a premier TV critic, the two comics creators who showed up in my 2025 stacks the most, and a selection of graphic novels and trades that were great and/or tall. Next up: nothing but prose! Novels, memoirs, short-story collections — all words and virtually no pictures, apart from some spot illustrations.

Continue reading

My 2025 Reading Stacks #3: Graphic Novel Highlights

6 Graphic Novels on brown kitchen table, refer to next six capsules.

Some of my favorite reads from last year…

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

Welcome once again to our recurring MCC feature in which I scribble capsule reviews of everything I’ve read lately that was published in a physical format over a certain page count with a squarebound spine on it — novels, original graphic novels, trade paperbacks, infrequent nonfiction dalliances, and so on. Due to the way I structure my media-consumption time blocks, the list will always feature more graphic novels than works of prose and pure text, though I do try to diversify my literary diet as time and acquisitions permit.

Occasionally I’ll sneak in a contemporary review if I’ve gone out of my way to buy and read something brand new. Every so often I’ll borrow from my wife or from our local library. But the majority of our spotlighted works are presented years after the rest of the world already finished and moved on from them because I’m drawing from my vast unread pile that presently occupies four oversize shelves comprising thirty-three years of uncontrolled book shopping. I’ve occasionally pruned the pile, but as you can imagine, cut out one unread book and three more take its place…

…all of which I convince myself I’ll totally get to someday. Same holds true for writing about ’em. And now, more of the latter! It was nice to finish the second installment earlier, but we’ve dozens more to go before we sleep.

Continue reading

My 2025 Reading Stacks #2: Two Graphic Novel MVPs

7 graphic novels written by Mark Russell, titles written about below.

2025: The Year I Began Tracking Down All the Mark Russell Works.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

Welcome once again to our recurring MCC feature in which I scribble capsule reviews of everything I’ve read lately that was published in a physical format over a certain page count with a squarebound spine on it — novels, original graphic novels, trade paperbacks, infrequent nonfiction dalliances, and so on. Due to the way I structure my media-consumption time blocks, the list will always feature more graphic novels than works of prose and pure text, though I do try to diversify my literary diet as time and acquisitions permit.

Occasionally I’ll sneak in a contemporary review if I’ve gone out of my way to buy and read something brand new. Every so often I’ll borrow from my wife or from our local library. But the majority of our spotlighted works are presented years after the rest of the world already finished and moved on from them because I’m drawing from my vast unread pile that presently occupies four oversize shelves comprising thirty-three years of uncontrolled book shopping. I’ve occasionally pruned the pile, but as you can imagine, cut out one unread book and three more take its place…

…and the same holds true for my li’l ramshackle hobby-blog: cross one subject off my to-do list, five more get added to it. We’re long overdue to catch up and I’m tired of staring at all these stacks in our living room next to our PC desk. Let’s do some of this for the sake of spring cleaning! We’ll start with the two creators with more works in those stacks than any other.

Continue reading

“Ready or Not 2: Here I Come”: Sisters Are Slayin’ It for Themselves

Two blond women tied in chairs in a mansion ballroom. One is dressed normally and confounded, the other is in a bloody wedding dress and screaming.

Movie Team-Ups present Ant-Man’s daughter AND Bill S. Preston, Esq.’s daughter!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: Radio Silence is here for all your action-horror needs! The joint sobriquet for the directing duo of Tyler Gillett and Matt Bellinelli-Olpin, their slickly paced, tongue-in-cheek set-pieces — often flooded in literal gallons of blood — caught my attention with the fifth and sixth Screams and the vampire-kidnapping murder-mischief of Abigail even though rivers of carnage aren’t a go-to for me (…he said in an era when over half the films in theaters are fiscally modest horror flicks). Curious for more, I eventually went back and streamed their 2019 crowd-favorite Ready or Not, in which the impressively put-upon newlywed Samara Weaving learns the truth behind the old joke about how in-laws are the worst and is forced to survive “The Most Dangerous Game” by her new family’s regional variant rules, which include old-timey weapons, demonic rituals, and EXPLOSIONS. She survives to see dawn and overcomes one of modern America’s worst fears: spoiled one-percenters who were totally out to get her.

Weaving, the directors, and the first one’s writers R. Christopher Murphy and Guy Busick (who also worked on Silence’s last three films) are back with Ready or Not 2: Here I Come, which naturally has to double and triple every quantity: higher stakes, more killers, more recognizable costars, and overall super-sized Hunger Games with larger industrial hoses hooked to those same chemical-factory-sized blood-vats.

Continue reading

Yes, There Are Mission Patches After the “Project Hail Mary” End Credits

Ryan Gosling in red astronaut armor with a NASA logo, smiling and standing in a dark foil-lined tunnel.

IRON MAN IIIN SPAAACE!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: Solo astronauts are our heroes! Sure, the full crews of Apollo 13 and The Right Stuff are fine, but ever since Stanley Kubrick’s visionary 2001: A Space Odyssey saw Keir “Dave” Dullea pull the plug on Richard Daystrom’s malfunctioning Ultimate Computer — a full year before Neil Armstrong walked on the moon pretty easily because no evil A.I. showed up to stop him — filmmakers have enjoyed pondering the scenario, “What if you had an entire massive spaceship all to yourself and you alone had to save the day or get killed?” In my case it would be a short film: the Dramamine I’d need to overcome my motion-sickness issues would probably get used up before reaching the first million-mile marker and I’d end up dead by dehydration due to nonstop vomiting.

The astro-lone-wolf tradition has come up in such recent sci-fi dramas as Moon, Gravity, Ad Astra, and The Martian. Andy Weir, whose novel was the foundation of the latter, apparently loved the concept so much that he reexamined it from a new angle in his most recent book Project Hail Mary: instead of stranding an astronaut on Mars and forcing him to survive till the scientists back home could rescue him…what if the stranded astronaut had to save the scientists back home? And everyone else back home? Also, what if he wasn’t even an astronaut?

Continue reading

I Knew “The Bride!” When She Used to Rock and Roll

Jessie Buckley with blond hair, black 1930s hat and black smudge next to her mouth, screaming into headlights at night.

Not one of Madonna’s better phases.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: After nearly thirty years of acting, back in 2021 Maggie Gyllenhaal stepped behind the camera to write and direct her first feature — a heartbreaking novel adaptation called The Lost Daughter, in which Jessie Buckley and Olivia Colman each played the same character at different ages, whose personal issues complicated her unenthusiastic young-adult attempts at motherhood and continued haunting her as life grew increasingly lonelier with age. Both actresses were nominated for Academy Awards, as was Gyllenhaal for Best Adapted Screenplay with such a complicated portrait of a woman in no position to deal with the expectations of everyone around her and The Viewers at Home.

Viewers may feel even more confounded by the writer/director’s sophomore follow-up, a big-budget IP-romp called The Bride! that isn’t a novel adaptation and isn’t quite a remake of James Whale’s iconic Bride of Frankenstein…at least, not all of it. Remember the scene where Elsa Lanchester awakens and screaming at Boris Karloff? Imagine that screaming stretched out to a two-hour runtime, except now she’s screaming at everyone except Frankenstein’s Monster, and somehow the screaming and posturing make her a feminist icon. Or something?

Continue reading