Poster for Wes Anderson's new film, "Moonrise Kingdom"

Voila: the poster for Wes Anderson's new movie, Moonrise Kingdom.

I am going to see this movie. Don't try to stop me; I will chew through your arms.

Johnny Depp debuts Tonto headwear

Despite my uncertainty as to whether or not the world needs a new Lone Ranger movie (remember this one?), Johnny Depp is single-handedly enough to make me give a shit. So he can go right on being as "crow head" as he wants to be; I'm in. (Thanks, WWTDD.)

BTW: Ed Wood remains one of my all-time favorite movies. This is almost completely unrelated to this post, but I just wanted to mention it.

And the winner is ...

The nominees for Best Animated Short Film for 2011 were:

• Dimanche/Sunday
• The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore
• La Luna
• A Morning Stroll
• Wild Life

Spoiler alert: The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore won.

If you have OnDemand, you can watch most of these right now for about seven or eight bucks, plus some other animated shorts that received special commendation (or something of the sort). Well, you can watch them all except for La Luna, a Pixar short that will be available widely once the new film Brave is released.

La Luna or no, I'd recommend checking them out. The "special commendation" ones that close the show aren't that great, but I doubt you'll come away dissatisfied with the overall experience. 

My favorite? Dimanche/Sunday, a charming slice-of-life about a young boy, his family, some train tracks that run through his town, and a bear who ... well, I won't spoil that for you.

When it comes to animation, I tend to be more of the retro sort, and the style for Dimanche/Sunday (check out the images above this post) fits the bill perfectly. 

Not that you'll have a bad time with Fantastic -- you may even, gasp, prefer it -- but check them all out while there's still time. Me? I'm heading over to iTunes where I can pick up Dimanche/Sunday for about three bucks (HD; the SD version is, naturally, cheaper) and always have it at the ready when I need to see a gigantic train barrel through a small town.

"Midnight Masquerader," by Billy Joel

For the last two days, an old Billy Joel tune has been bouncing around my head -- "Streetlife Serenader." But here's the thing: I inadvertently replaced the words "streetlife serenader" with "midnight masquerader." I even sorta imagined the album featuring that title. Now, the phrase "midnight masquerader" is indeed in this song ... but in my head I replaced all the "streetlife serenaders" with it.

I've heard the song, literally, a few hundred times. How does something like this happen?

More like "Comic Book Meh"

See what I did there? Anyway ...

Three episodes in, AMC's Comic Book Men is starting to come into better focus for me:

1. This is a 30-minute show masquerading as a 60-minute show.
2. If everyone dislikes Ming so much, fire the fucking guy already and put him out of his misery.
3. That Bryan guy? Still kind of a tool, but down from his episode one peak.

I may be done with this one, despite the fact that -- true to my suspicions -- this episode was an improvement upon the second one, which itself was an improvement upon the first. There's no way this gets a second season, right? Despite what must be absolutely paltry production costs, AMC must have something else in the hopper for post-Walking Dead, right?

Right?

Listen to the band

I always knew The Monkees.

The furthest reaches of my memory already included them, as if I was born humming "Last Train to Clarksville." Blame daily UHF channel reruns; blame Boyce & Hart. At school, we used to run around pretending to be The Monkees* and at home I would play The Monkees Greatest Hits as often as possible.

As I got older, liking The Monkees became increasingly less cool: they were fakes** who paled in comparison to The Beatles and never produced anything as musically substantial as, say, Pink Floyd's The Wall or The Who's Quadrophenia. Never mind that they did actually have musical talent. Never mind that everyone pales in comparison to The Beatles, including the individual members of that group post-breakup. Yeah, they don't have a Wall on their discography, but two out of three ain't bad and their greatest hits collection on iTunes -- The Best of The Monkees -- is remarkably deep.

It's likelier that history isn't as kind to The Monkees as it could be because their music was, for the most part, fun. Not soul searing (Dylan, King, Springsteen), not gut wrenching (Tommy, "Sunday Bloody Sunday") not ear-popping (Black Sabbath, AC/DC). Fun. And "fun" often has an expiration date in the shelf life of the, ahem, discriminating music lover.

But I'm OK with fun; I think there's room for it in everyone's life. As a result, I've always had room for The Monkees in select playlists.

So it was with great dismay that I learned of singer Davy Jones' death from a heart attack. From what I've heard, he'd been living a pretty clean life and had recently received a clean bill of health. Sometimes, though, you just can't do enough. 

Vocally, The Monkees belonged to Mickey Dolenz, but "Daydream Believer" is just perfectly delivered by Jones. He also does terrific work on "Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow)." And you never saw Marcia Brady swoon for Dolenz so that evens the gentlemen out a bit.

Make yourself some time today to pick up a song or two from iTunes or Amazon and give a listen. It's okay. You'll sacrifice neither your "hard rock god" status nor your indie cred. Sometimes, it's okay for music to simply be fun.


* I remember one friend becoming upset because he had to play the guy who always wore the hat. I explained that, no, he was playing Peter Tork, I was the guy with the hat, Michael Nesmith. This reassured him immensely.

** Pre-Internet, sometimes you just had to take other kids' words for it, especially if they were older. And the shot against The Monkees from the local teenage boy Greek chorus was always that they couldn't actually perform any instruments and were hardcore imposters. Not true.

Can "Comic Book Men" save itself?

Okay, so I waited until the second episode of AMC's new show Comic Book Men before saying anything. I'm glad I did: while the first episode was largely odorous, the second episode was ... less so.

That's less "damning with faint praise" than you might think. Sometimes it takes a show a little while to get going, and every bit of patience can help. If episode #3 is as improved over #2 as #2 was over #1, we might be headed somewhere.

But I have my doubts. There were just enough recurring problems evident in #2 that I'm afraid we're watching the only season of Men (which at least makes the "Complete Series" DVD affordable).

And those problems are:

Bryan Johnson's desperate pleas for attention
First episode impression: "What an a-hole!" Post-first episode impression, formed after reading his reply to an unfavorable review on ComicsAlliance.com: "Yep, still pretty much an a-hole." But in the second episode we see just a hint of some humanizing self-deprecating humor as the aging, heavyset man comes face-to-face with his mortal limits during the travesty of a street hockey game that formed the centerpiece of the episode. This guy needs to stop trying so hard to be "Mr. Witty Curmudgeon" and recognize that he's far closer to being "Passenger #4 on Kevin Smith's Coattails" and simply appreciate the ride.

Ming Chen's vagina
Seriously, dude. Grow a pair. I know, I know: producers behind this Pawn Stars ripoff feel that it needs a Chumlee. It doesn't. In the second episode much was made of how Chen paid for guest-star Jason Mewes' merchandise, as if Chen was so taken with Mewes' D-list celebrity that he would do anything for the Big Star. What a laff riot! But wait: am I the only one who heard Chen's boss order him to pay for the items? Guys, we all know 90 percent of this show is staged, but can you at least provide script supervision off camera? Chen seems perfectly likable, but I suspect America's tolerance for watching a bunch of white guys picking on a wimpy Asian dude is lower than some reality show producers might think.

Sixty -- count 'em -- sixty minutes of this
Why in God's name is this show 60 minutes long? There may very well be an entertaining 22 minutes in each episode; wouldn't it be better to strive for "good" rather than "it fills the time slot"?

Kevin Smith
Smith is a natural raconteur. An absolute natural. The problem is, he's so head-and-shoulders above everyone else onscreen that a noticeable pallor settles over the show when he's away ... unless a Batmobile is involved. How long would he have to stay in Jersey to film a full season of 22-minute episodes? They could shoot them like they do game shows: five or six in a day (okay, that might be an exaggeration, but I'm just sayin').

Antiques No-Show
I think there might be a real problem with the premise of Men: shows like Pawn Stars and Antiques Roadshow work because there are so many potential stories about the various items being discussed. They're not limited to any specialized fields, so that in any one episode you can hear something about a Civil War flag, vintage 1920s art print, or antique chair (believe me, that all seems mighty compelling under the right circumstances). But Men's relatively limited focus on comic books, films and toys may end up hampering it; hence, my "more Kevin Smith" suggestion and the complaints about how some of these folks are being portrayed. The stuff walking through the door won't save this show: the people will.

As for now, Comic Book Men will remain on my radar, but consistent improvements -- even if they're more gradual than grand -- are definitely needed to help keep it there.