Dragon Con 2025 Photos, Part 1: The Stars in Our Galaxy

Us doing jazz hands with four guys from Voyager.

Star Trek: Voyager jazz-hands role call: Robert Duncan McNeill! Tim Russ! Garrett Wang! Robert Picardo!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: in 2019 my wife Anne and I attended our very first Dragon Con in Atlanta, Georgia. As one of the longest-running science fiction conventions in America, Dragon Con had received rave reviews from internet friends who refused to shut up about it. It’s become a biannual tradition for us, even in the face of 2021’s rigorous pandemic precautions and 2023’s unfortunate coinciding with Hollywood’s dual SAG-AFTRA and WGA strikes, which meant the celebrity guests couldn’t actually talk about work, as if actor Q&As at comic-cons weren’t already awkward enough.

Newbies no more, we once again made the eight-hour drive from Indianapolis and returned for our fourth nonconsecutive Labor Day weekend at that amazing colossal southern spectacle, this time unhampered by pandemics or greedy studio-exec shenanigans. We can’t conscientiously afford to do D*C every year, but we’ll see how long we can keep up an every-other year schedule before we’re too old or overwhelmed to handle it.

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The First Rule of Weapons Club Is You Do Not Talk About “Weapons”

Julia Garner peeking through open curtains from outside into a darkened house.

Folks who haven’t seen it yet, peering in through the internet redaction boxes.

How do you discuss a movie without ruining it when its greatest pleasure is the element of surprise? Maybe you just…don’t?

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Fan Expo Chicago 2025 Photos, Part 3 of 3: Comics and More!

one Spike Funko Pop and eight books that'll be alluded to throughout the entry.

The latest additions to my reading stacks and one new toy for my work desk.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

It’s that time again! This weekend my wife Anne and I attended the fourth edition of Fan Expo Chicago at the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center in the suburb of Rosemont, Illinois. In 2022 they arose from the ashes of the late Wizard World Chicago, which we attended eleven times, and have expended tremendous efforts to maintain the previous showrunners’ geek-marketed traditions to keep luring in longtime fans and newcomers alike…

…and it all comes down to this: everything else about our convention weekend that I didn’t already share: chiefly, the comics! The shopping! The miscellaneous!

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Fan Expo Chicago 2025 Photos, Part 2 of 3: Celebrities!

Us doing jazz hands with Ewan McGregor who has a buzzcut, beard and mustache.

It’s Ewan McGregor! You might remember him from such films as Moulin Rouge, Trainspotting, Doctor Sleep, the Star Wars prequels, his Star Wars TV show, and more, more, more!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

It’s that time again! This weekend my wife Anne and I attended the fourth edition of Fan Expo Chicago at the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center in the suburb of Rosemont, Illinois. In 2022 they arose from the ashes of the late Wizard World Chicago, which we attended eleven times, and have expended tremendous efforts to maintain the previous showrunners’ geek-marketed traditions to keep luring in longtime fans and newcomers alike…

…and for us it meant another round of photo ops with actors from movies and TV shows we’ve enjoyed. Longtime MCC readers know jazz hands are our thing, if we feel it’s worth a shot to ask, and if the stars are amenable. Sometimes they don’t, and that’s fine! They’re adults, we’re adults, and we accept it — their image, their choice. But it’s a lot cooler when they do.

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Fan Expo Chicago 2025 Photos, Part 1 of 3: Cosplay!

Captain America cosplayer on an actual motorcycle, in stopped traffic and holding Mjolnir in one hand.

As we left the show Sunday afternoon and police stopped traffic to let the crowd cross River Road toward the parking garage, a charity-driven cosplayer calling himself the Colorado Captain was right there alongside them.

It’s that time again! This weekend my wife Anne and I attended the fourth edition of Fan Expo Chicago at the Donald E. Stephens Convention Center in the suburb of Rosemont, Illinois. In 2022 they arose from the ashes of the late Wizard World Chicago, which we attended eleven times, and have expended tremendous efforts to maintain the previous showrunners’ geek-marketed traditions to keep luring in longtime fans and newcomers alike.

As is the MCC procedure, let’s start with mandatory cosplay photos! The humble duo here at MCC enjoys the panoply of costumes, and appreciates the makers and wearers who enliven every comic-con with their talents and their exaltation of various fandoms. We regret we can only represent a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of the total cosplay wonderment that was on display this weekend, especially from cons like this where we spent far more time waiting in lengthy lines that ate up precious time we could’ve spent taking more pics. We’re just an aging couple doing what we can for happy sharing fun.

Enjoy! Corrections, elucidations, and plugs welcome!

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Yes, There’s a Scene After “The Naked Gun” End Credits

Theater lobby standee with Liam Neeson in character groping at Pamela Anderson with five different hands while brandishing his gun with a sixth.

The long arm of the law takes a more hands-on approach.

Sure, laughter is fun, but the more pop culture fractured into separate camps over the decades, the less everyone could agree on what was funny. TV sitcoms and the rise of the internet in the 2000s — when we all took turns giving away laughs for free, high on the power of free expression — met my daily chuckle-quota while American filmgoers voted for Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler, the diminishing returns of other SNLers, and Hollywood’s slowly mutated “wisdom” that comedies absolutely had to be R-rated F-bomb barrages because those, they thought, were funnier than actual jokes, despite entire decades’ worth of classic examples that worked just fine without them. Yadda yadda yadda, comedy disappeared from cinemas, except as a secondary component in incessantly quippy blockbusters.

In my childhood the epitome of comedy in any medium was Airplane!: The Movie, that goofy parody of ’70s airport-disaster dramas whose quick-witted reflexes and nonstop Easter-egg sight gags would be embedded in the DNA of The Simpsons and all the other hyper-accelerated comic works since. The skewing of dialogue clichés and the perfectly straight-faced delivery of the most dreadful puns in the world were a tremendous joy, though as a long-term consequence it would become an intrinsic link in the evolutionary chain leading to today’s “Dad Jokes”. For a time I was a disciple to its hilarity-trinity of directors David and Jerry Zucker and Jim Abrahams. Eventually they parted ways and went on to make their own separate comedies with varying degrees of hit-or-miss. David Zucker kept on spoofing longer than the other two until diminishing returns set in as he got older. (His last time in a director’s chair was a 2008 conservative lampoon of Michael Moore called An American Carol, which Zucker’s recent interviewers chose not to bring up.)

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Yes, There Are Scenes During and After “The Fantastic Four: First Steps” End Credits

Fantastic Four cast in movie costumes, just standing and staring. Big blue 4 logo takes up the wall behind them.

The World’s Greatest Comic Magazine™, now in theaters!

Critics call The Fantastic Four: First Steps the Greatest FF Film of All Time! It’s a low bar to crawl over, but it’s a relief Marvel didn’t smack themselves in the face with that particular rake again.

After Tim Story’s two earnest but awkward sitcom episodes and Josh Trank’s grimdark body-horror take — whose second half was amputated and replaced with prosthetic superheroics (and which “celebrates” its tenth anniversary next month) — most of us had given up on seeing Stan Lee and Jack Kirby’s greatest co-creation writ large on the big screen without half-baked compromises of what makes these intrepid scientist-adventurers tick. We settled for key cameos in the second Doctor Strange and Deadpool & Wolverine, but those tongue-in-cheek callbacks only gave us one member apiece sans the Richards’ dynamic. Writing solo comic relief is easy; writing affectionate, super-powered teamwork is hard, unless you’re Brad Bird paying homage with The Incredibles.

If we disqualify Roger Corman’s unreleased zero-budget fan-film available only as a bootleg (and for a reason), then fourth (ha!) time’s the charm as the First Family has been wrested from its former Fox overlords and eased into the Marvel Cinematic Universe via gentle alternate-Earth reboot courtesy of director Matt Shakman, who handled the amazing WandaVision but whose only previous feature, 2014’s barely existent Cut Bank, made less than 300 grand worldwide. Working with at least five different screenwriters (including Sarah Connor Chronicles showrunner Josh Friedman and Thunderbolts co-writer Eric Pearson), Shakman understandably kept the odds of success manageable by revisiting Lee and Kirby’s FF #48-50, the original Galactus Saga, which Story’s 2007 sequel Rise of the Silver Surfer bungled. Last time a classic non-origin comics tale was adapted twice to film, the end result was the abjectly time-wasting Dark Phoenix.

Thankfully First Steps avoids Rise‘s mistakes and not only better recaptures the essence (e.g., not making Galactus a hungry space cloud) but elevates Our Heroes’ comeback into grandiose science-fiction myth-making of the sort that comics used to do best, on a level meant to inspire our broken world even while barely resembling it. Among its many idealistic propositions: sure, everyone loves found families in movies and TV, but what if just once in modern times the day were saved by an actual family-family? Plus Dad’s best friend as honorary Fun Uncle?

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Yes, There Are Scenes During and After the “Superman” End Credits

My wife Anne in a blue T-shirt with large Superman S on it, flexing her cute tiny muscles next to a Superman movie poster in a dark theater lobby.

Look! Up in the theater! It’s a cute tiny bird!

Among the many benefits of seeing James Gunn’s Superman in theaters, you no longer have to worry about internet spoilers and you’ll be able to tell which culture-war blowhards haven’t actually left their Silicon Valley work-from-home basements and their soulless private-equity offices to at least hate-watch it for themselves and are mouthing off based only on misinformation and overreactions from other blowhards.

While the rage-harvesters gorge on clicks and dare opponents to quote-tweet them for reach-broadening clique domination and/or barroom-brawl “fun”, you’ll potentially earn the advantage of a more informed opinion and might just see the world’s finest Superman film to date without Christopher Reeve in it. Heck, if you’re under 40 and never got past “YOU CANNOT JUST REVERSE TIME BY SPINNING THE WORLD BACKWARDS!”, you might even like this one more. I wouldn’t know! You have the power over your own opinions. Don’t cede it to anyone, not even me.

(Not that you would. And I’m aware of the irony of declaring opinions about other people’s opinions of how to have opinions, so you needn’t point it out.)

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My 2024 Reading Stacks #2 of 2: The Omnibus Edition

The first fur books covered in this entry, all of them large hardcovers.

Special thanks to Gem City Books out of Dayton, OH, for showing up at comic-cons and selling such oversized collections at enticing discounts.

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…

…and so on goes the usual intro. Last year’s stacks are cluttering the living-room space next to our PC but can’t be put away till this delayed annual tradition is finished. Onward, then, for feng shui‘s sake! Starting with the heaviest! Keep in mind, all these numbers aren’t rankings, just random tallying, not even listed in actual reading order. Continue reading

“Jurassic World Rebirth” on the Island of Misfit Dino-Toys

Scarlett Johansson as a merc in a tall tropical field wielding a rifle with a big needle on the end of the barrel.

Next time your doctor asks for a blood draw, try not to think about this needle.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: for us the Jurassic Park/World film series is a Family Tradition Franchise, by which I mean — like the Marvel, DC, or Star Wars universes — ever since my son was small we’ve seen see every installment in theaters because we’ve always gone to see them every time, no matter how unenthusiastic we are about the diminishing returns. The resistible drag of IP inertia is among our strongest bonds, exactly as studio execs count on to prop up these dilapidated blockbuster assembly lines.

The last trilogy came nowhere near touching the Steven Spielberg/Michael Crichton classic, its first sequel whose flaws get funnier every time I catch a basic-cable rerun, or even Joe Johnston’s underrated yet perfectly fun JPIII. Colin Trevorrow’s Jurassic World was a roadshow revival presenting a handful of entertaining scenes, numerous derivative ideas in the form of “callbacks”, the first of Chris Pratt’s many generic action heroes to come, the callous murder of poor innocent Lena Luthor, and a T-Rex/raptor team-up that was probably the first line of the pitch. With Fallen Kingdom J.A. Bayona arguably crafted the least worst of the three, with a wild Dinosaur Island cataclysm that segues to the bizarre high-concept “dinosaurs in a haunted house”, only to fumble in the final ten minutes with one of the stupidest movie endings so far this millennium. Trevorrow returned one last time for Dominion, a Jurassic All-Stars cash-grab reunion tour in which our beloved dinosaurs played second-fiddle to the threat of giant locusts, to the delight of that microscopic Venn-diagram subset, Jurassic Fans Who Hate Dinosaurs.

Three years later, here we go again! Those hungry, hungry dinos are back in their seventh chapter, Jurassic World Rebirth — courtesy of sci-fi director Gareth Edwards (The Creator, most of Rogue One), who learned a few things from directing an actual Godzilla film such as “perhaps a giant-lizard movie should have more than five minutes of giant lizard in it” and “always cast a Marvel actor”. Joining him is David Koepp, primary screenwriter of the first Jurassic trilogy, which movie-news sites took as a good sign even though his last blockbuster credit was among the Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny brain trust. The results manage to hurdle the low bar set by Trevorrow’s two company-man products, but once again Edwards and Koepp aspire to a cover-band quality level, which doesn’t have to be an entirely bad thing.

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“28 Years Later”: Undead Will Find a Way

Aaron Taylor-Johnson and a kid actor each dressed like Robin Hood with no hoods, looking incredulously at something offscreen.

A father/son coming-of-age zombie hunt? What’s the worst that could happen?

Once upon a time in 2002, 28 Days Later led a post-Romero zombie revival that’s technically never ended if you’re still following at least one Walking Dead spinoff. (No, thank you.) Its depiction of a paler-than-usual 21st-century England overrun by frantic super-speed vomiting jitterbuggers was an electrifying revelation up until it turned into a military action flick and we all learned Humanity Is The Real Monster. But within the span of that terrifying first half, no one could deny the harmonic convergence of Trainspotting director Danny Boyle, The Beach‘s novelist-turned-first-time-screenwriter Alex Garland, and young unknown Cillian Murphy. The audience’s scars from that first half never fully healed.

Boyle and Garland hopped from horror to sci-fi with the riveting apocalypse of Sunshine, leaving their zombie apocalypse in other hands. I never bothered with the sequel 28 Weeks Later unless you count Screen Junkies’ recent Honest Trailer, which seemed like all the recap I needed. Generations later Boyle and Garland reunite for 28 Years Later along with cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle, whose early pioneering in digital video worked wonders with Days‘ haunting imagery and jump-scare nerve-shredding before jump-scares were played out. The old team ignores Weeks and once again cranks up the visual voltage for half a film, only to diverge yet again from the undead stampede for someplace else. This time the topical shift resonates more bittersweetly. Well, mostly.

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“The Life of Chuck”: A Celebration in Dance and Math

Tom Hiddleston as a four-eyed accountant looking wistful toward an offscreen sundown.

Has the day arrived when we can watch new Tom Hiddleston projects without joking about Loki variants?

Stephen King is large! He contains multitudes! Your elderly parents’ dismissal of him notwithstanding, he hasn’t been “just” The King of Horror since at least the mid-’80s, though it can be hard to keep in mind considering the King-based film majority. Whenever one of his 60,000 works are adapted into something other than a zero-budget splatterpunk B-movie or modestly funded “elevated horror” streamer-filler, the trailers will always caution, “No, hey, don’t make that face, it’s cool, we promise this isn’t the Stephen King of Sleepwalkers or Maximum Overdrive or The Lawnmower Man! This is the OTHER Stephen King! Y’know, the one who single-handedly kept the basic-cable industry alive with looping reruns of Stand by Me and The Shawshank Redemption!”

That Stephen King returns with a semi-fantasy of bittersweet lyricism in The Life of Chuck, whose box-office figures have been grim, yet might hopefully earn a home-video renaissance in its next medium, where it doesn’t have to compete against the bigger studios’ re-nuked kiddie leftovers. Alas, today’s theaters can only contain up to 1.5 multitudes at a time.

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“Ballerina”: Hello! I Am Joan Wick! You Killed My Father! Prepare to Die!

Ana de Armas dressed in all black, having a swordfight with an angry man, but they're using big guns as their swords. The background is burning.

What other summer blockbuster offers FLAMING HOT DUELING FLAMETHROWERS! Your move, Minecraft.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: everybody loves John Wick! Keanu Reeves and director Chad Stahelski turned a peculiar crime drama about one retired assassin’s vendetta against the whelps who killed his dog into a billion-dollar stunt-spectacular franchise. Naturally Lionsgate Films wants more of those sweet Wick-bucks, but they made the mistake of letting the team end John Wick: Chapter 4 on their own terms, in a manner both satisfying and dramatically inevitable, yet counterproductive to sequelizing with any real integrity. That means it’s time for inferior spinoffs with diminishing returns!

Setting aside a mostly forgotten comics miniseries, the first screen-shaped ancillary product off John Wick: The IP Assembly Line was the dreadful Peacock miniseries with the cumbersome title The Continental: From the World of John Wick, a prequel that gave Ian McShane’s dark hotelier Winston Scott an unnecessary secret origin and gave former star Mel Gibson another stop on his post-cancellation comeback tour. For some reason its showrunners thought Wickworld needed the longer, slower, duller streaming-era treatment set in the Blaxploitation days with none of their vibe, wit, or pulse. Having learned a lesson, the studio went back to the drawing board and thought: what if our next cash-in product had a protagonist who could actually fight their own gun battles?

Hence our next would-be successor: Ballerina! At least, that’s what theater marquees call it. Officially it’s From the World of John Wick: Ballerina, a wretched title concocted by some marketing orc who never had to alphabetize a movie shelf. Someone in charge really thinks “From the World of John Wick” is a catchphrase they should never let go. Who knows how many marginally less unsightly titles were discarded — John Wick Presents Ballerina or John Wick’s Gal Pal Ballerina or John Wick! Now That We Have Your Attention, Here’s Ballerina. So, for posterity shorthand, Ballerina it is.

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“Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning”…or IS IT?

Ethan Hunt telling the President, "I need you to trust me one last time."

Will Ethan Hunt join James Bond in that great big top-secret spy base in the sky?

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: star/producer Tom Cruise’s Mission: Impossible series reboot of the old TV espionage drama just keeps going and going and going and going and going. We were all assured the eighth entry Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning — delayed multiple times and with an ending price tag rivaling the GNP of most nations — would be the grand finale to end all grand finales and that this was totally it for IMF Agent Ethan Hunt, the stubborn jack-of-all-trades, honorary Olympic athlete, and indefatigable Chosen One whose rotating teams keep saving the world from every former spy turned evil mastermind — all sixteen million of them, whichever ones didn’t go after James Bond first.

Cruise, now 62 and eligible for discount-level Social Security, has prided himself on performing as many of his own stunts as possible, but cannot keep doing this forever, or so we all keep trying to tell him. Whether it’s his unconditional love of making blockbusters or the rewards of heading the Church of Scientology’s most effective outreach program, something’s fueled his deep desire to keep going bigger, faster, louder and jumpier. From the fifth one onward he’s synchronized with writer/director Christopher McQuarrie and all but buried the earlier, wobblier installments. The oft-thrilling conclusion to the saga (supposedly) doesn’t quite take the throne of Best Mission Ever, though it isn’t for lack of effort, ensemble, effects, or eagerness to excite.

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“Final Destination Bloodlines”: Death Returns to Delete Entire Ancestry.com Pages

tony Todd in the final months of his life, playing coroner William John Bludworth one last time, sitting at his desk at police HQ.

William Bludworth! Kurn, son of Mogh! Candyman! Zoom! Adult Jake Sisko! And more, more, more! R.I.P., good sir.

Once upon a time the original Final Destination was my favorite film I saw in theaters in the year 2000, outranking other notable releases such as the Best Picture-winning Gladiator, the higher-budgeted X-Men, and the even more intricate Chicken Run. Created by screenwriter Jeffrey Reddick and flown to the finish line by the X-Files/Millennium writer/producer team of Glen Morgan and James Wong, the supernatural slasher-flick was more than its novelty of teens being hunted by the voiceless, incorporeal force of Death Itself via ludicrous chain-reaction accidents. Sure, those grotesque executions were more unpredictable than your typical arsenal of cutlery and farming tools, and as a comics fan I took some pride in knowing Rube Goldberg’s work before I saw it and name-checking him for comparison’s sake before everyone else was doing it.

Taking a peculiar place in the post-Scream slasher revival, the imaginative precursor to 1000 Ways to Die posed a loftier pretension than psychopathic B-movie slaughter. Death’s unspoken yet swiftly inferred motive for its Most Dangerous Game kill-spree was, arguably in the strictest sense, not motivated by pure or even petty evil. From a higher plane of perspective, the entire cast was “supposed” to die in the first twenty minutes, which would’ve made for a fairly pointless short. As the students who escaped the opening plane disaster soon find themselves perishing one by one, their increasingly frantic debates and rationalizations explore the time-honored thematic conflict of destiny versus free will — the integrity of maintaining The Grand Scheme of Things versus the Terminator series’ philosophy of “There is no fate but what we make”, which in turn was backstabbed by Terminator 3‘s contrarian stance that some catastrophes are a fixed point in time, no matter how hard we push back.

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Yes, There Are Scenes During and After the “Thunderbolts*” End Credits

Movie poster with the entire cast squirming to fit into the frame at the same time. Florence Pugh is disgusted to be here.

They’re here to save Marvel from themselves.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: we mention Marvel a lot! It isn’t perfect, but it’s our thing — the movies, the comics and the TV shows, though I generally only compel myself to write about the movies. We enjoy keeping up with all the shows as well, for better or worse, which has been a boon to our viewing comprehension as the Marvel Cinematic Universe (which turns 17 this month!) has accumulated an entire transmedia continuity that sees characters commuting back and forth between small screens and the silver screen with very few footnotes to catch up latecomers. The filmmakers do try to simplify matters in the theatrical releases, recapping in thin brushstrokes and sometimes reducing years-old backstories to loglines buried inside badinage, like a stapler suspended in Jell-O. You can reach in, grab it and deal with the mess; or just stare at it hanging there and go on with your day.

Sometimes strong performances can go a long way toward convincing an audience to just roll with it. Such is the case with Thunderbolts*, the MCU’s 36th feature film and the final film in Phase V, which means nothing anymore. In the same way our last Marvel film Captain America: Brave New World was essentially a sequel to 2008’s underrated Incredible Hulk, Thunderbolts* is a direct follow-up to 2021’s pandemic-hobbled Black Widow, where much of the cast debuted. The events here mean a lot more if you watched that first (among a few other prior works), but director Jake Schreier (Paper Towns, Netflix’s Beef), Widow screenwriter Eric Pearson, and co-writer Joanna Calo (The Bear, BoJack Horseman) do a noteworthy job of tying character arcs together while balancing accessibility for first-timers.

(And really, why not invite more partygoers from outside? Hard as it might be to believe, every MCU film is someone’s first. One of my coworkers never watched a single Marvel movie before sitting down in front of Avengers: Endgame. Yes, she definitely had questions, but my point is it happens. In an era where we keep hearing Theaters Are Dying, the solution is not to imitate comics’ impenetrable continuity and turn them into a geek country club, a market-driven approach that’s arguably contributed to the last three or four Comics Are Dying eras.)

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Yes, There Are Scenes During and After the “Sinners” End Credits

Michael B. Jordan in dual roles as 1932 gangsters, one with a red hat and one with a blue hat.

Thankfully it’s easy to tell which one’s Raphael and which one’s Leonardo.

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover: Ryan Coogler rules! The writer/director/producer’s film career began a year after I launched this blog in 2012. I’ve seen them all in theaters and written about them along the way. His devastating indie debut Fruitvale Station was my favorite film that year (back when Coogler was still on Twitter and tossed me a Like for my efforts!). The legacy sequel Creed thoroughly wrecked me at the end. The Academy Award-Winning Black Panther is still one of the MCU’s best entries despite some janky CG in the underground-railroad climax. Its sequel Wakanda Forever is — microscopically splitting hairs — his least-best to date despite that powerful prologue, a worldwide wake for the late Chadwick Boseman. It’s still streets ahead of most Marvel films that followed in its shadow, but it buckled under the weight of the company’s self-perpetuating marketing plans.

With only four films grossing almost a combined $2.5 billion in international box office (well, now he’s passed that mark), the auteur stepped back from work-for-hire and threw some earned clout toward a project of his own, the very first to feature characters of his own creation without shouldering any inherited IP mantles. With that creative control Coogler scores another win in Sinners, once again collaborating with actor Michael B. Jordan, who’s been in all his films to date (erm, light Wakanda Forever spoilers, sorry) and who’s one of this blog’s frequent excuses to name-check The Wire whenever gratuitously possible. (We will never forget Wallace. NEVER.) It defies easy pigeonholing as a vampire survival-horror period-piece musical that demands a 21st-century Black Cinema Renaissance rise up and keep up with him. For anyone who thought the Panther films were still a liiittle bit white at heart, Sinners is here for you.

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C2E2 2025 Photos, Part 4 of 4: Comics and More!

Six comics on a table: Ain't No Grave, Living Hell, The Schlub, Let's Make Bread!, Mister Miracle, and Peppermint Desert.

Hey, kids! Comics!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

It’s that time again! This weekend my wife Anne and I attended the latest edition of the Chicago Comic and Entertainment Exposition (“C2E2″), a three-day extravaganza of comic books, actors, creators, toys, props, publishers, freebies, plush dolls, variant covers, anime we don’t recognize, and walking and walking and walking and walking. We missed a couple of past installments since their inaugural 2010 gala, but more often than not, whenever they send out the call to convene, we’re happy to answer…

…and one of my favorite aspects of C2E2 is Artists Alley, one of the largest and most diverse of its kind in all the Midwest. Maybe it’s hard to tell by looking at my last several months’ posts, but comics have been my primary hobby since age 6. Sure, jazz hands with famous folks are cool, but graphic storytelling is my bag. This year was no exception, though nigh-impassable aisles posed a serious challenge to getting in, through, and out.

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C2E2 2025 Photos, Part 3 of 4: The Stars in Our Galaxy!

Us doing jazz hands while Emilio Esitevez kinda shrinks away from me and leans behind Anne.

Hi, it’s Emilio Estevez! You might remember him from such films!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

It’s that time again! This weekend my wife Anne and I attended the latest edition of the Chicago Comic and Entertainment Exposition (“C2E2″), a three-day extravaganza of comic books, actors, creators, toys, props, publishers, freebies, plush dolls, variant covers, anime we don’t recognize, and walking and walking and walking and walking. We missed a couple of past installments since their inaugural 2010 gala, but more often than not, whenever they send out the call to convene, we’re happy to answer…

…and call they indeed did! This year the showrunners at ReedPop assembled a dense guest list with cast reunions for quite a few beloved works, which attracted larger autograph crowds to McCormick Place than ever and forced us attendees to weigh a lot of tough choices. Anne and I kept our checklist short and modest, but still ran into scheduling issues that forced us to exercise one of our least favorite comic-con tactics: we had to split the party.

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C2E2 2025 Photos, Part 2 of 4: Saturday Cosplay!

Severance cosplayers!

Helly R. and Mark S. from Severance. See you at the Equator!

Previously on Midlife Crisis Crossover:

It’s that time again! This weekend my wife Anne and I attended the latest edition of the Chicago Comic and Entertainment Exposition (“C2E2″), a three-day extravaganza of comic books, actors, creators, toys, props, publishers, freebies, plush dolls, variant covers, anime we don’t recognize, and walking and walking and walking and walking. We missed a couple of past installments since their inaugural 2010 gala, but more often than not, whenever they send out the call to convene, we’re happy to answer.

While we recuperate and wait for our feet to forgive us for their punishment, please enjoy this collection of cosplayers who brightened our day around the show floor. The jazz-hands photo ops and other obligatory details will be shared in the other chapters because everyone loves costumes. We regret we can only represent a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of the total cosplay wonderment that was on display this weekend. We’re clearly not professional photographers, journalists, costume designers, or Oscars red carpet commentators. We’re just an aging geek couple doing what we can for happy sharing fun…

…and here’s our Saturday gallery. We left Chicago around 6 p.m. CDT that day and missed everything that came after, but did what we could till our legs threatened to collapse. Enjoy! Again! Please feel free to identify any characters we failed at recognizing!

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