Author Archive

And so the PANELGEEK has finally picked up an off-the-internet bootleg of Spider-man 3 to watch in the comfort and scrutiny of his own secret headquarters and, much to his own surprise

It WASN’T BAD!!

Now its important to mention that expectations were already very low. I was somewhat unimpressed with the first two, thinking that there were mistakes in casting (Maguire is NOT PETER PARKER) and some visual and directorial choices (The super-lame Green Goblin mask, when Willem Dafoe’s face is clearly what a psychotic super-villain should look like!) Combine that with a lousy script most of the time and Sam Raimi’s undeniably campy approach somewhat soured the franchise for me.

But by the third film, the characters were established enough for some of the actors to really sink into them. Kirsten Dunst seemed, for the first time to have really grown into the womanly glamour that is Mary-Jane Watson

(in the first two, she just seemed like a pretty little girl.)

James Franco’s reprise as Harry Osborn, trying to live up to his father’s might as the Green Goblin was impressive, especially because the script team had the courage to change te course that Harry took in the comics, and in this film, turned him into the reluctant hero that I found myself (by the final battle scene) wanting him to be.

I was very skeptical about adding The Sandman to the film franchise, finding him to be a cheesy, two-bit stock villain complete with campy striped shirt. But when the Oscar-nominated actor Thomas Hayden Church, with his deadly serious expression picked up that familiar shirt in the early scenes, something struck home about the character, and the director: It is possible to portray a campy, pulpy comic book story and still take it seriously. Something Raimi has had trouble conveying in the past.

Church: perfect casting as Flint Marko (The Sandman.)

Then there’s The Symbiote Black Suit, which just falls out of the sky without explination and we find out increases the wearer’s strengths but also increases their aggressive tendencies

And there’s Eddie Brock, played with complete lack of depth or nuance by That 70’s show’s Topher Grace. Brock is The Daily Bugle’s skeevy photographer counterpart to the morally irreproachable Parker.

When the two become one, the fusion is Venom: The closest thing Spider-man has ever had to an evil mirror-image.

Oh, and there’s also Gwen Stacy, Spider-man’s other romantic interest.

And Flint Marko was also apparently Uncle Ben’s real killer.

And isn’t Peter’s frail Aunt May supposed to fit in here somewhere?

Oh, and the alien suit is vulnerable to sound waves, too!

Herein lies the problem: Too many characters and too many plot threads equals NOT ENOUGH PLOT DEVELOPMENT! Each of the scenes seem like they’re just trying to string us along on an over-worked plot (or multiple plots) while not giving any one plot the right amount of exposition it needs.

The special effects for Sandman and Venom were brilliant, and the scene in which Spider-man defeats Venom was AWESOME, but I can’t help but feel that if Raimi left the showdown with Venom for the next film, he would have had a little more leeway with other development but sometimes its hard to suppress a vision (or multiple visions) with so much money, expectation, and MERCHANDISING behind it (does everyone have their Venom figurines yet?)

But acknowledging all of its flaws, Spider-man 3 was still a great super-hero action film with just enough camp, and all the special-effects magic we could ask for in a summer block-buster.

One last gripe: Tobey Maguire, pathetically trying to be Peter Parker, pathetically trying to be “baddass” montage, with a black outfit and smiling and winking at every supermodel he passes was appalling.

His white-as-white-can-get disco homage to John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever made me physically nauseous. That entire scene knocked one star off my review. The scene in the Jazz Club was, as well, utterly stupid.

Damn you Sam Raimi for your idiotic mockery of a character I’ve loved for years.

If I never, ever saw Tobey “wide-eyes-and-pouty-lips-is-NOT-an-acceptable-substitute-for-actual-talent” Maguire mangle the insight and moral complexity of Peter Parker, it’ll be too soon.

Mixed Tape by Another Urban Riff is a playwriting version of an exquisite corpse.

Exquisite Corpse is a type of poem where each poet writes one line and a word. The first poet then folds the paper down so that only the one word at the end is visible. The next poet sees only the one word of the line that the new poet is supposed to begin with. This usually goes around for as many lines as there are poets in the circle and then: share.

Are you with me? Good. Mixed Tape has four playwrights and four directors, the second playwright reads only the first work. The third does so for the second and the fourth for the third. . . interesting.

Although my friend Julia whom I came to see (aka Burlesque-dancer Roja Rouge) told me they cheated a little. And I guess that’s where the flaws in this project began. .

To AUR’s credit, (or maybe the discredit of the lighting-person) the stage lights were fucked and they had to do the play with the house-lights on which severely threw off the entire sense of theater. With the prying eyes of the audience boring into all the actors, it felt more like we were sitting in on a dress rehersal.

The 1st “track” (as each chapter was called) was a manic mish-mash of stressed out roommates, bed-bug jokes, short attention spans, screaming frenemies, and some too-cool-for-school booty-call who ditches the sexually desperate and confused protagonist who just wants to some attention. . . I guess. . . Oh, and all the roommates are all actors. . . I think. . .

The 2nd track was about two depressed and stressed-out roommates alongside a sexually unfulfilled woman with her loser TV-addict boyfriend. There’s an awkward, desperate and awkward one night stand between one of the roommates and the boyfriend, and everyone’s frustrated reaction.

By the time the 3rd track begins with a neurotic young man cleaning an apartment while masturbating in various strange auto-erotic positions and screaming SHUT THE FUCK UP!! while slamming his head against the wall. . . Well, between the flourescent lights and uncomfortable folding chairs, I was just desperate to get out of this confused, nearly plotless cluster-fuck of a theater project.

Which was unfortunate, because this was where it started to get good.

The 3rd track incorporated a character from the second, which then made it confusing to the audience which of the reoccurring actors were the same character as before. Apparently each play has one “carry-over” actor from the previous play, or maybe more than one, the audeince wasn’t sure and I’m not sure the playwrights were either.

The 3rd track continued on the theme of shitty living situations in the city, bi-polar outbursts and massively desperate sexual confusion which after being beaten over the head with it already for 45 minutes was starting to get painful.

By the time we were into the fourth trach, I was just hoping it’d be over soon.

Which is a shame. Because the 4th track very smartly and depthfully explored the world of Sexual Addicts, sexual repression, sexual expression and dudes with popped collars (A very clever performance by Nick Paglino, with some great slapstick turns).

Track 4 was written by Marge Lewitt, who also directed Track 3, and for her quality work, I applaud her. The others. . . Well, I think I’d need to see more of their work to give a “fair” assessment. Same goes for the actors.

And so, I’d say the idea of Mixed Tape is good and should be taken back to the drawing board, but if I could make one suggestion to AUR:

Be it the playwrights, the directors, the actors or some combination therein, someone needs to put down the methamphetamines.

So it’s out! SPIDER-MAN 3 is in the theaters, and. . . . . . wow, everyone says its crap.

I haven’t seen it yet, so I can’t rant quite yet (But check the ‘movies’ section soon, the review will be up in a jiffy.) but as a cross promotion for the film, all the Spider-man comics have him “Back in Black” which means Spidey has gone back to his black suit with the big white spider in the chest, meaning he’s all mean and angry and stuff.

Heck, everyone loves an anti-hero!

Personally, I don’t buy the “back to the darkside” ploy. It didn’t work for Jaime Foxx in Dreamgirls and it doesn’t work for Peter Parker. An actor friend of mine recently illuminated me to the trend that when a franchise wants to pretend that they’ve added depth to a story, they’ll make the claim that “it’s much darker.” Darker = better. Which in the case of Amazing Spider-man’s recent turn, doesn’t apply.

Here’s why Spidey’s back in the black suit:

During Civil War, Spider-Man went pro-SRA and under Iron-Man’s guidance, chose to reveal his identity to the public. Boom. In one issue (Civil War #2) Spider-Man takes off his mask in fornt of a full press corps, and says “Yep. Peter Parker. I’m Spider-Man.” Breaking a more-than-40-year precedent of the secret identity for our web-head.

The primary reason (and logically, the only real reason) Spidey kept his face a secret is because of the fragile, non-super-powered people around him. His frail aunt, his smokin’-hot wife, and every else that doesn’t stand a chance against the Green Goblin or Sandman. But under the SRA act, his most precious Aunt May and Mary Jane would be safe and protected by S.H.E.I.L.D., Iron Man, the Avengers, et al. They were SAFE!!

And then Spider-Man flipped. He joined Captain America and all the other Anti-SRA, assholes putting his precious wife and older-than-dust Aunt into mortal peril by ANY super-powered psycho that knew how to track down this guy named Peter Park whose face was on newspapers all over the city.

Of course, Wilson Fisk: The Kingpin hires an assassin to take out his most beloved, and when a bullet puts little old Aunt May into intensive care, Spidey puts on the Black suit to tell everyone. . . .

“See! I can be baddass too! I can be like Punisher, really I can!”

Bullshit. I slogged through one two lousy issues of Spider-man pretending he can acutally be a killer, talking about being a killer, dressing like an assassin, and claiming multiple times in only one issue that he’s ready to kill anyone who messes with his family. So far his body count is still zero.

We’ve been here before. During the first alien black-suit saga, during the dark periods of the late 90’s with the Harry Osborn Goblin and other haunting stories, but Parker will always be the good natured, caring, loving sentimentalist and I don’t think he’ll have it in him to take out the Kingpin. One big reason:

Spidey got the girl.

Wolverine; Punisher; Daredevil: All genuine baddasses, none of them get (or got) the girl. (Or in all three cases, “the girl” was killed in a horribly brutal fashion.)
Cyclops, Spider-man, Captain America: All upstanding, law-abiding citizen types, all got the girl.

Sometimes all a super-hero needs is the love of a fine woman.

I’m also proud to report that today was the first successful PANELGEEK GROUP! A handful of comic-heads, plus a couple of neophytes gathered at the Bowery Poetry Club to flip through some TPBs I offered to share and discuss favorite writers, storylines, and how modern war-time political climate has helped raise the bar on many series to appeal to a more sophisticated audience.

Read about it in Gothamist (soon)

The PANELGEEK GROUP will meet the second Thursday of every month at Bowery Poetry, and we hope to see you there!

And what a night it was! Hosted by Lolita Bar in the NEW Lower East Side, all the classies and the flashies, the Vera Wangs and Chanel Diors of the City on Broome st. and Allen, where 250 Russian Jewish immigrants probably stuffed themselves into a Bell Jar tenements with a single air shaft and no bathrooms.

DAMN YOU, COOL KIDS!! AND ALL THE CONSPICUOUS WEALTH THAT THAT THERIN IMPLY!!

But this past Wednesday night was weighted heavily, or perhaps uplifted by a geekitude of absolutely honor and respectability: Urban Lore, and Knowledge of your City.

And with multi-colored, custom silk-screened T-shirts (thank you, Ad Hoc Arts.) the NYC Titans of Trivia All Stars were ready to take home the crown: A group of hotshot mostly NYC Tour Guides, helmed by The Levy family of Levy’s Unique New York. Their secret weapon, A living NYC Encyleopedia named Andy Sydor aka The RedMenace; both for his politics and fo the color of his head when he’s riled up.

(He’s the Union Shop Steward of Grey Line (The Red Buses) and if you ever want to get deluged with emailed articles about NYC by the DOZEN, email him: RedMenace@aol.com)

At a table in the back, surrounded by Wheat Beers (brought to New York by German Immigrants, mostly in Bushwick) and Pale Ale (from the Colonial Day, of course) and got going on the questions.

And BOY there were some stumpers. . . 6 categories, including

Old Names: (6th avenue used to be known as the West Road.)

It Happened Here: (The Hot Dog, invented in Coney Island in 1904)

On this date: ( Dec 8, 1980: John Lennon shot and killed. May 25, 1883: Opening of the Brooklyn Bridge)

and. . . lots of other very obscure stuff. . . The beer was flowing pretty heavily by then. Some very apocriphal stuff (I heard it this way!) and the occassional reference to something outside the city got the crowd into an uproar. But, when trivia geeks get fired up about something, the gloves are off. I should know. . .

(Triviacrats: RIP [for now]. . . SOB SOB SOB. . .)

The photo round was frustrating, as they were small, grainy photo-copys from the City Lore book in a dark bar when people were drinking.

But after Craig Finn of the excellent band The Hold Steady read off the 60th questions, the scores were tallied and the

NYC TITANS OF TRIVIA ALL-STARS CAME IN. . .

2nd place. . .

After Kevin Walsh and the Triborough Destroyers beat us by a single question. Ladies and Gentlement, Kevin Walsh is the Moby Dick of NYC Trivia. . .

Next time, Walsh. . .

Next time. . . . . . . .

What a week to be a PANELGEEK in New York!

I hit Midtown Comics this wednesday to check the latest releases and was elated to see that the latest Astonishing X-men was on the shelves. Astonishing X-men is, as far as I’m concerned the only X-men comic worth reading these days, turning away from the depressing M-Day phenomenom (in which most of the mutant universe woke up one morning with no powers, making mutants an endagered species) and follows up on the staggeringly brilliant run on “New X-Men” written by the incomparable Grant Morrison (whom I worship as one of the greatest writers of the Modern Comic Age)

The Astonishing team is made up of Cyclops, Wolverine, Beast, Emma Frost, Shadowcat, Collosus, and a handful of “Xavier Institute” students, some of which are on their way toward graduating into bona fide X-men.

The main selling point on Astonishing X-men is it’s new writer: Joss Whedon, of Buffy fame (a demi-god of geekdom in his own, very earned rite.) Drawn by the very realistic and emotionally expressive John Cassaday,

Whedon applies his snarky dialouge we’ve of course seen in his TV work to characters we already have known and loved for years. Also, in traditional Buffy fashion he juxtaposes awkward romantic and sexual situations alongside life-and-death situations with blissful hillarity.

The current AXM storyline is a little weak. It involves an off-world trip to a warrior planet and the issue this weak seemed mostly like filler leading up to the grand finale. Whedon’s tenure at AXM was from the beginning, understood to be temporary, and so grabbing one (0r all!) of his AXM TPBs (Gifted, Dangerous and Torn) would be a good buy. Dangerous was my favorite.

In other news, it’s Spider-Man in New York Week! Of course with the premier of the 3rd instalment of the phenomenally successful Spider-Man franchise hitting theaters tomorrow, NYC & Company, the city’s tourism bureau has all sorts of special promotions related in some way (and in some cases very loosely) to the ultimate Web-head of New York.

Spider-man has always been an essentially New York character for a number of reasons, the most obvious of which being his webslinging between buildings. Spidey thrives on skyscrapers, and in many ways, I believe he derives much of his spiritual energy from the ambitious vibe that exudes from the man-made towers of glass and steel all over our fine city. Come on, can you imagine trying to web-sling across Montana?

Combine that with his perpetual level of stress, and the endless wisecracks coming from behind that mask, and you get the ultimate New York Super-Hero. Too bad Tobey Maguire has that perpetual head-in-the-clouds doofus/douche-bag look on his face, and couldn’t wise-crack with a Queen’s accent if his life depended on it! (which Spidey’s often does.). . . Sorry, I never thought Maguire made a good Peter Parker. I lke the movies, but hate Maguire.

Next week I’ll write a little something about some of the SM in NY stuff, but in the meantime, be SURE to hit the comic shops this upcoming Saturday for FREE COMIC BOOK DAY!! The first Saturday in May you can load up on free comics! PERFECT for someone who wants to get into the wonderful word of comics.

This is all leading up to the first PANELGEEK meeting and discussion group at the Bowery Poetry Club downstairs room (retitled: The PanelCave) This upcoming Thurday May 10th at 5pm.

See you there! And bring your favorite books!

Ah. . . The hunt for the perfect karaoke. . . An arduous task, yes.

See, the city is rich with microphones and TV screens filled with highlighted lyrics. And with the wide variety of work schedules we all contend with, finding the right venue, at the right time, date, and location for your rock-star fix can be a challenge.

For nearly a year, Sid and Buddy karaoke filled that desperate longing need within me to awaken the “karaoke whore”, as Sid (aka Matt) lovingly refers to his charges.

It was at Galapagos, in Williamsburg, every Sunday night. It was an addiction. Deeply. Madly. Truly. I would rock Aerosmith when I had no voice to give. I’d stay for the “end of the night Bohemian Rhapsody medley” in which everyone who lasted until 4 in the morning was compelled to join.

But all good things do come to an end, and Sid and Buddy ended their Sunday night run, and I was lost without a stage to seranade.

I found a surrogate at Smiths Times Square, which of course is in a very inconvenient location, and is hit or miss (but the on nights are ON!)

Then I found that Sid was BACK! This time, at The Grand Saloon on E.23rd st. So I decked myself out in my snazzy khaki suit and got ready to rock out some Big Bad Voodoo Daddy!

And although, all my favorite karaoke buddies from the Sunday night days of yore were all there to welcome me back, sadly, the magic just wasn’t there.

Probably becuase of the bland, lifeless, dull-as-dull-can-get atmosphere of Murray Hill (the neighborhood, not the burlesque MC)

And Grand Saloon, like many pubs in the area, seems like a lovely place to order hot wings and Coors light and watch the game, (if thats yer thing) but not so much for the weekend rock stars.

Either way, Sid does have THE most comprehensive song list of any karaoke host I’ve ever seen! (Over 10,000 songs!!) so if you’re looking for that rare tune that no other karaokian seems to be able to supply, maybe you should head to the Saloon one Friday night and check the scene for yerself.

Yesterday was Wednesday, and for all you neophytes to the comic world, Wednesday is NEW COMICS DAY.

So, I rifled through the new releases and picked up what looked good this week.

The latest in the endlessly unfolding saga in Wolverine’s origin was nothing special. (So it turns out he was descended from an ancient line of Lupine Werewolves. How fascinating.) So I was glad that the post-Captain America assasination saga was so good.

The Loss of “Cap” is being felt all through the Marvel Universe, and they’ve been exploring each of the most important characters’ mourning in a series called Fallen Son. this week it was The Avengers, the team that Cap led for many years (34 years in real-world time.)

In the wake of CIVIL WAR, the Avengers were split in two: The Mighty Avengers, organized by Iron Man and led by Ms. Marvel were the pro Super-Human Registration Act team (referred to from here on out as the SRA). The anti-SRA team, which have now gone underground go by the title The New Avengers, and are protected by the magics of Dr. Strange and are led by Luke Cage.

In Fallen Son: Avengers, we have a split story: following the Mighty Avengers on a run-of-the-mill super-villain beatdown and following the New Avengers to. . . a top secret poker-game. (During which we learn the secret of The Thing’s favorite drink: An ice-cold PBR!! Heh.)

The writing, by super-hero comics and TV series powerhouse Jeph Loeb was clever, cute, and fun, exploring first and foremost, the relationships between these heroes, and how the Marvel Superhero community really is just like a disfunctional family who are now dealing with the loss of a loved one, and every so often, misplacing their anger.

My favorite scene was a minor scuffle between Spider-Man and Wolverine, who really represent the two poles of Superhero compassion. (Wolvie being the cold-hearted cad, and Spidey the hopeless sentimentalist.) Definetely a good read, even for those who don’t follow the Marvel continuity.

My last accquisition was Ultimate X-men #81, which after a very mediocre 20 or 30 issues (perhaps in their lead-up to big, bad #100) is FINALLY getting back to basics and quality storylines. Which leads into my exposition of:

ULTIMATE MARVEL

In 1999, Marvel undertook a very ambitious project. Recreating their greatest characters storylines inside their own pocket universe. Starting with a whole new Spider-Man and X-men stories that stay true to their basic themes, but exist now in a wholly 21st century continuity.

Ultimate Spider-man is, back to his roots, a 15 year-old high school student, still dating Mary-Jane on and off , still struggling to keep up with school work, is still a brash and hot-headed teen, and best of all, is the “web-maintainer” for the Daily Bugle. Writing by Brian Michael Bendis, a top-notch writer and drawn by Mark Bagley, who drew a phenomenal run on Amazing Spider-Man in the early 90’s. I heavily reccomend the first Ultimate Spider-Man TPB: Power and Responsibility

Next came Ultimate X-men, a much more media-savvy, much more complex introduction to the band of rebel-outlaw teenage mutations and their relationship to the human and mutant world around them. Their costumes are more militant than the bright colored spandex of “Classic X-men” and the characters’ demons seem to haunt them much closer to the surface. Though the recent issues have been a bore, the first Ultimate X-Men TPB: The Tomorrow People is considered one of the best X-men storylines of all time.

Much later came Ultimate Fantastic Four, which seems first and foremost, just a chance to tell the FF storyline from the point of view of excited and inexperienced teenagers. Its fun, but so far, nothing special.

Lastly, is the perpetual enigma that is The Ultimates. This is the Ultimate Universe version of the Avengers, which is being undetaken as an “event book” with heavily political plotlines, extremely detailed war scenes, and issues that come out (FRUSTRATINGLY) maybe once every 3 months.

Fortunately, The Ultimates team often appears in the other books, led by Nick Fury, who in this Universe, is black and looks just like Samuel L. Jackson. (Jackson even gave written consent to model the characters looks and attitude after him.)

Go get ‘em, comic fans!!!

NOTE: SPOILERS CONTAINED WITHIN!!!!

I know it’s not right to speak ill of the dead. . . but Captain America was an asshole.

Okay. At this point, I’ve already pissed off thousands of Cap fans, and I’m not sure where to begin on my assessment, so I think the start of Civil War is a good place to start.

And Civil War began with the deaths of 612 ordinary, non-superpowered American citizens in the town of Stamford Connecticut.

And suddenly, all the inner dramas, all the nit-picky little soap-operas between all the super-heros, super-villains, and all the kinda-sorta half-way between-the-two sociopaths like Wolverine and The Punisher, who would be considered serial killers if they weren’t just so darn sexy, NONE OF IT MATTERED!!!

What mattered was that regular people like you and me died so that a group of amateur living weapons could get publicity.

These man-made Gods on Earth began at the dawn of the second World War, and the oldest one to persist to this day was a government-funded, government-produced Super-Soldier project performed on a flawlessly devout American patriot who commited himself to the service of the American Dream ever since.

But the American Dream never planned for mutants, radio-active animal-human hybrids, cyborgs, telepaths, alien symbiotes, et al. And if I had to choose between the safety of maybe 250 million non-powered American citizens and the rights of a few hundred walking WMDs to wear masks and fight/commit crimes at their own discretion, then there really is no choice.

Super-heroes are constantly asked to make sacrifices to protect the “mortals” around them. Now, that sacrifice is revealing themselves to, and working for the U.S. Government. Apparently for some, that was too much to ask.

Captain America (who led the anti-Super-Human-Registration resistance) has always had the problem of living in the past. When the only Super-human was a stalwart, loyal soldier fighting against the greatest evil of the 20th century. Even then, super-humans were a Government Sanctioned Project

Now, in the 21st century Marvel Universe, With so many super-powered beings all across the globe, regulation has become a necessity. And there are no two people I would trust to manage that task then the two greatest minds of the Marvel Universe: Tony Stark (Iron Man) and Reed Richards (Mr. Fantastic.)

Noted, Stark and Richards had their share of mistakes, the biggest of which was the absolute hubris of cloning Thor. That was unforgivable. Otherwise, I felt most of Tony’s decisions were if not right, then at least justified

Cap may be the Ultimate Soldier and Patriot, but he’s no genius. He’s simple. He thinks with his gut, and in this case, his gut-instinct may have been pure, but it was wrong. And at the end of Civil War, he finally realized it at the hands of the heros of the real world: Firefighters, Police officers, and EMTs finally made Cap realize the pointlessness of his stand.

And without Cap, there was no real resistance. Luke Cage and Daredevil are the paranoid brute thugs of the superhero universe who will always thumb their noses at authority. They can’t help themselves.

The Young Avengers are a bunch of amateur punks who would jump on to any bandwagon lead by the Living Legend of WWII, and the rest of the resistance (aka The Secret Avengers) were just sucked in by their guilty consciences. (Spider-Man’s decision to change sides halfways through Civil War are the most tragic and regretable example of Cap’s charisma leading to others making bad choices.)

I could rant forever about this, but instead, lets discuss it at the first PANELGEEK discussion group, TBA for early May.

In the meantime, for the more human side of the Civil War saga, I reccomend you pick up Civil War: Frontline

Which explores

A. the mission of two journalists to explore the details of each side of the war and

B. the story of Robbie Baldwin aka Speedball, one of the “heroes” “responsible” for the Stamford tragedy, and his transformation through guilt into a much darker, much more haunted anti-hero.

Written more intelligently than most of the other battle-driven comics, and concludes each chapter with a vignette alluding to a different war. One linking Spider-man’s internal conflict to the Japanese internment of WWII, and Iron Man’s consolidation of power to the rise of Julius Ceasar at the Rubicon in 59 B.C..

Smart stuff.

Dammit. I’m gonna be late.

Trains are fucked every weekend from now until who-knows-when and I’m on a street corner in Bed-Stuy. The rain is coming down at Fraternity-Pledge-Piss magnitude and I’ve got an hour and a half to get to the South Bronx.

Local livery cabs won’t take me there so I start hoofing it to Flatbush ave in black suit and fedora in the hopes that I’ll catch a yellow cab there, and all I can think is

God. What a perfect day for a funeral.

Ars Subterranea is a self described group of artists, historians, and urban explorers working to create an intersection between art and architectural relics in the New York City area. And coming from a New York City Tour Guide, they know volumes more about architecture throughout the Boroughs than I do.

The cab dropped me at the corner of 161st and 3rd ave and i looked around feeling, (perhaps a bit ashamed) rather lost. The invitation said this intersection at 3pm sharp. I was 20 minutes early, so I took a stroll.

As a Brooklyn native, the Bronx fascinates me as a doppleganger to my own land of heritage. The Bronx was middle-class when Brooklyn was still Blue-collar with wide swaths of ghetto. In the Bronx, the streets bend and coast with more freedom and ambition. The crackhouses are more graceful, built with a more grand design in mind.

I wander past Chinese food joints and check-cashing spots in the rain, wondering what grand spectacle is going to make itself known when the clock strikes 3.

Then, like an idiot, I turn around and see it. the 6-story solid block of Marble, planted on the odd-shaped sidewalk island like it had been there since the days of the Leni-Lenape Tribe. Inside the slightly open gate, I see two men and a woman in dark formalwear standing at the entrance and I knew:

This is the House of the Marble Mistress.

Picture from Satans Laundromat

Which is the sentimental name that Ars Subterranea had given to the former Bronx County Courthouse built by Oscar Bluemner and Michael J. Garvin from 1905-1915

What followed was a hokie, but mindfully planned and very faithfully executed wake for another piece of New York’s architectural ephemera.

And ephemera is right. Search Google. Search Flickr. Wikipedia. None of them have anything on the former Bronx County Criminal Courthouse. There are images of the hideous modern monstrosity that was built to replace it in 1977, but the Marble Mistress. Well, if it weren’t for folks like Ars Subterranea, perhaps it would be lost to New York for everyone except those who wandered the streets of the Bronx Hub.

My good friend S.D. who runs his own urban explorators site greeted me and asked if I knew the building well.

Not at all, actually

She’s qutie lovely, isn’t she? he replied.

We were kept in the entry to play parlor games, such as Murder and Trivia until they were ready. 4 at a time, we were blindfolded and led to a dark, dank room, lit only by votives. We were made to wait for 15 minutes or so with only the sound of rain-water gushing through the gutters, and the musky chill in the air to accompay us.

We were then led into the main room. A somber guitar player strummed a somber tune with a soprano singing something heart-breaking beside him. The guests were all introduced as we walked in one by one and then. . . the casket.

A full-size chrome (i think) casket was carried in by six pallbearers. Inside: Concrete and steel. And from the stairs in the corner, our theatrical Master of Ceremonies told us the story of the old Courthouse and Prison.

I wish I could relay some of this story to you, but I cannot. I couldn’t hear him over the rainwater and grew bored after ten or so minutes.

BAH! These urban sentimentalists! I thought They weep and moan for things long after their use has been exhausted. Would you stand in the way of all progress?? I wish to say, but hold my tongue. This is a somber occassion.

I took the opportunity to wander the cracked and crumbling stairwells of the majestic old Courthouse with my friend M.G. and caught a sneak-peek of the celebration room, where a birthday cake lay in waiting! And some sort of strange contraption consisting of a razor-scooter-powered light and music projector

What’s this? I thought. . .

As urban planning would have it, the majestic Marble Mistress, was not being torn down, but renovated! Into what we don’t know, (Hmph! Probably Condos! one guest grumped cynically) but this is not a death, but a renaissance. And thus, we celebrated.

Ars Subterranea, in it’s many branched-out forms through New York and other cities around the world are a necessary collective:. To remember, to preserve, and to explore abandoned urban sites, for it’s intrinsic stories, memories and ghosts. For many involved, it becomes a passion. (Some say, an addiction. . .)

And of course, When Google fails you, there’s always someone on the underground to take those photos you’re looking for. Thanks for the heads up, S.D.!

Civil War was Marvel’s massive-multi-comic crossover, which they tend to do about once a decade.

60’s was, quite simply, the birth of the Marvel Silver Age In the 70’s, it was the Kree-Skrull War. The 80’s was Secret Wars. 90’s was Infinity Gauntlet (a cosmic, intergalactic war of universe-shaping proportions) and now for the ‘aughts, it’s Civil War.

See, the nature of superhero comics is fighting and violence. It’s bright, and flashy, and all scars fade, bones mend and bruises heal, and costumes are stitched up and seamless by the end of the story arc. We all know that War doesn’t really happen like that.

Which is why Civil War was such a brilliant reality-check that brought the fantasy of the Marvel Universe back into the world we live in. Civil War wasn’t a fight against an all powerful-cosmic being, or a universe-shaping weapon, it was over a law. It was over Civil Rights.

Brief synopsis: A team of untrained, glamour seeking super-heros take on some super-villains that they couldn’t handle. Massive explosion and over 600 residents of Stamford, Connecticut are killed. The public, and congress say: Enough. All super-powered or masked beings in the United States must register their powers and identities with the government and become an employee of the United States Defense Forces. Half the heroes get behind it, the other half claim its a Civil Rights violation and go rogue. And the Civil War begins.

If I start talking about Civil War’s effect on Marvel, I’ll never stop. All I want to say is that the 7-issue central Civil War story is now collected in one glossy TPB, available at any of your local comic shops. It’s the comic story of the year. Speaking of which:

KNOW YOUR COMIC SHOPS
Each will be given a 1-5 rating

1. Midtown Comics- 40th st & 7th ave The Big Boys. They got it all. shelves and shelves of TPBs, a discount rack, the biggest back-issue collection I’ve seen, toys, a massive DVD section and more. For your every and any, Midtown is your stop. 5 of 5

2. Cosmic Comics- 23rd st between Broadway and Madison Not as massive as Midtown, but also an excellent selection and because they’re nowhere near as crowded, the staff is more laid back, and very friendly. I try to patronize as often as I can. 4 of 5

NOTE: Both Cosmic and Midtown have member-bonus systems. Give them your birthday as a rebate number and for every $100 you spend, you get a $20 credit!!

3. St. Mark’s Comics- St. Marks pl between 2nd & 3rd aves Small, but good for your Wednesday-fix. Id probably go more often if the boss-guy wasn’t such a prick.

4. Forbidden Planet- 13th st & Broadway The Union Squre powerhouse!! Almost as wide a selection as Midtown, but less space. Which tends to make it crowded and hard to maneuver. Especially on a Wednesday. There’s a video-game section that i think could go, but that’s just because I’m not a gamer. Friendly staff though, very helpful 3 of 5

There you go! Now get reading!!