Mister Faded Glory | misterfadedglory.com

I’m a little under-the-weather today, and have been battling a sinus infection since last Friday or so. Don’t know where it came from, or why I’m suffering it as the mercury hurtles towards 100 in central Kansas. Sickness and heat do not go well together. So, you’ll be lucky to get this post from me this week. But then again, since I’m apparently ultra-long-winded, it should probably suffice.

Few times in my life have I walked away from a movie as completely blown away as I was by Batman Begins. I don’t profess to be a Batman-phile, but I am quite literate and well-versed in the past 60+ years of Dark Knight lore.

I consider Batman the most compelling literary character in American history, and perhaps the most vital. He is easily the most human, mysterious, puzzling, and satisfying hero, transcending comic-book genre into legendary folklore. So, what I’m saying is, I’ve got really-fucking-high standards. In Batman 1989, for example, when the hack screenwriter decided to attest that The Joker killed Batman’s parents — well, that was an unforgivable sin. I might as well mention right here that this movie gets it right — it is hack thug Joe Chill. And this movie does suggest that Chill was actually hired to kill the Waynes. Right again. (Though, to be fair, that story’s origin is actually pretty lame.)

Back to the review. With the new Batman revival in full swing, I was skeptical. I’ve long fantasized that some enterprising director would make Frank Miller’s extraordinary comic novel The Dark Knight Returns into a feature film. (It’s a commentary on the 1980′s, but replacing the Reagan character would not be difficult.)

Anyway, Batman Begins heads in another direction. It uses Miller’s Batman:Year One as a background canvas for its reimagination of the Crusader’s origin — and it’s striking in its faith to the Batman religion as well as its ingenuity in developing Batman’s lost years.

Miller’s Year One chronicles the Dark Knight’s beginnings as a vigilante in Gotham, with no selected identity. He has returned from abroad, namely seven or so years traveling across the globe.

Chris Nolan’s Batman also follows the same precarious path — from his true-to-Batman’s-roots beginning, as a child falling into a cave, through the well-documented witness of his parents’ murder — yet it is the first Batman piece, that I’ve ever seen, that attempts to chronicle the lost years, hinted at in Year One and elsewhere in Batman lore. Where did Batman learn all his tricks? Did he just become Batman at age 23? Hardly. Year One and elsewhere suggest Batman was away from Gotham for as much as ten years. Where did the Dark Knight go?

And Nolan’s ingenuity is imagining one of Batman’s fiercest foes — the diabolical Ra’s Al-Ghul – playing a mentor role in Batman’s origin. Amazing. The intensity and cunning of Ra’s is historically matched by only one villain in the Batman universe — yes, you know who – and it serves the saga well here, accounting for some of the dementia-addled conscience that eternally plagues Batman.

Indeed, fear is one of the themes throughout the movie, and the plot isn’t even necessarily important — the water-supply scheme is sort of cockamamie — but that’s no problem for Batman. It never is. The character of Batman — the torture, the anguish, the whimsy, the vengeance, the cruelty, the aloneness — that’s ALWAYS Batman’s story.

Tie to that you have the rumpled Lt. Gordon, the eccentric-cum-crazy Jon “Scarecrow” Crane, the hilariously malevolent Carmine Falcone (great work, Tom Wilkinson — though Rupert Thorne could have also been used in this role) and of course, the formidable Ra’s, and you’ve got plenty of meat to surround Christian Bale’s Batman.

The action scenes are real, stunning, easy to follow, and blistering — the sound in which they’re filmed in is the real joy. Batman’s first appearance — though you know it’s coming — causes chills. Bale was born to play Batman — one of the most underrated actors on screen, he turns the moody Wayne into the relieved, focused Dark Knight complete with blurry lines and a cold fear that penetrates his surface confidence.

The acting elsewhere is also superb, namely Wilkinson, Cillian Murphy, and Gary Oldman. The character development surrounding necessary Batman populants Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius Fox is a treat. The homage to Miller’s Dark Knight continues with the updated Batmobile — as if tugging on my heart, they never refer to it as the Batmobile — and the vehicle is mostly a speedy tank.

The origin is complete, and the seeds are planted for future sequels. Normally I eschew blockbusters, but this was simply one of the best movies I’ve ever seen. Granted, I’m a Batman fan — but that in effect is a more stringent hurdle for the filmmakers than a forgiveness. As the movie opened, with the bats everywhere, I got chills. It’s that good.

Enough mumbo-jumbo for you? Well, the movie is great. Unbelievable. Anyway, I may write more on it, after I see it again. That’s all for now.

I watched another heartwrenching Cubs blown loss against the Brewers yesterday, and instead of

(a) lamenting the Brew Crew’s inexplicable grasp of the Cubs bullpen, or
(b) reminding everyone that during the toughest part of the Cubs’ schedule, beginning with the Dodger series in early June, the Cubs are .500 (which is okay, considering their injuries, opponents, and the fact that they’re managed by Dusty),
(c) Admitting my Corey “Oh-fer” Patterson jersey is less likely to see the light of day with each at-bat, or
(d) wondering how in the world Chicago could acquire Brady Clark and Bill Hall,

I instead have another complaint. By the way, if you want some coherent and succint thoughts on the Cubs’ week, I echo everything Derek says here. If you want a hilarious take on the Corey Patterson-Dusty Baker attempt to manage the media, check this out.

My complaint is — throughout the 1990s, mid-size American cities like Milwaukee all built renewal baseball stadiums, some bandboxes, some quaint, some classy. Milwaukee’s is a nice field, but for the daytime Cubs/Crew tilt, the sun was already casting shadows directly onto home plate and first base, separating them from the pitcher’s mound. It was 1 p.m.!

Now, if you are the firm contracted to build the park, OR if you are Major League Baseball, OR if you’re the city of Milwaukee – why would you not NOTICE where the sun is expected to hit in that park, and craft the angle of home plate, the stadium structure, and the pitcher’s mound accordingly? Sure, you’ll play mostly night games, except for weekends. But honestly, the shadows were awful. Not only are the difficult to hit into, they’re difficult to field into.

Seriously, it was just after noon, and I’m watching the game, and it feels like a sunset. I almost got ready for bed. Batting in the early innings was like swinging at pitches fired from a basement parking garage. It’s absolutely ridiculous. They’ve, in effect, attempted to forbid afternoon games at Miller Park. And it’s maddening.

And, well, the Cubs just blew another game to the Crew, mainly because the Brewers’ batters are patient to a fault. Huh. Funny how a team with little talent can stay competitive with just a little patience, while more expensive teams swing for the fences and struggle. But there I go, editorializing again.

(. . .)

The Spurs nabbed the NBA title last night, a foregone conclusion for many since the playoffs started. I wasn’t rooting for them, but was glad they got the job done, if only to inexplicably save Tim Duncan’s reputation. My god, the guy gives you 20 and 15 every night. What the hell is he doing wrong?

The bobbleheads continue to become befuddled by Duncan, because he’s not as demonstrative as Jordan or Shaq, not as flashy as Magic, not as white as Bird. There was scarcely a word about the failure of perpetually out-of-control guard play during the Spurs’ losses. There was scarcely a word about the failure to even look for Duncan down the stretch of Game 5. Yet somehow, the media was ready to cast Duncan aside. Power forwards can’t win with the media, you need to be a 2-guard. Ask Kevin Garnett. Ask Kobe Bryant. For 2-guards, sins are easily forgiven. For PFs, they’re easily magnified.

The problem for most sportswriters in a less-than-sexy finals is that Duncan simply is not the same player as Olajuwon, Jordan, Bird, or Magic (in that order), but instead, I’ll point out that previous foursome needs a power forward to fill out their all-time NBA team. And he’s a winner, despite a bout with malign Wednesday, and he won, despite:

1. A supporting cast filled with rejects and overrated talent. Specifically, Manu Ginobili. No player with less talent has ever gotten this many calls. Jordan didn’t get this many calls. Ginobili is out of control, at all times, and is (somehow) always bailed out by the refs. Coincidentally, the Pistons were able to stave this off with a late double and some quality (gulp) officiating in Game 6, but, still, it’s unbelievable. Bruce Bowen is a good athlete on a good defensive team, (Ask Kobe if Bowen deserves the label of ‘stopper.’) and Horry and Parker know their roles. Hell, Duncan’s amazing for winning with these guys.

2. Back to the demise of the NBA, predicated specifically by ESPN’s abysmal coverage. (Always seems like they’re selling. Every sports moment, with immediate editorializing and historical perspective). On last night’s SportsCenter, a normally lucid Tim Legler argued that the Spurs’ winning three crowns in seven years is more impressive than three crowns in three years. HUH?

An incredulous Greg Anthony looked on, reminding Legler that he just stated the Spurs were now better than the 1991-1994 Bulls, yet Legler inexplicably attempted to argue.

What a dope. Sustained excellence is something to strive for, and certainly, the Spurs are emblematic of a quality organization. But how on earth can it be more difficult to win three titles in seven years than just in three? To win three in three, you have to be at the top of your game every single night, make all the right roster moves, and avoid injuries. I can’t believe I’m even having this discussion, the argument is so ridiculous, BUT …

This morning, here was eternal ESPN company-man (Yessir Mickey! Instant history it is!) Dan Shanoff espousing the same tripe! Hey, ESPN, give it a rest! This ridiculous attempt to legitimize the Spurs (no need) after a lackluster Finals is patronizing and pathetic.

3. We’ve got more NBA to tackle next week with the upcoming draft, as Atlanta waits in terror to take Les Jepsen Jr. – oh, wait, I mean Andrew Bogut. Also, the NBA is now barring 18 year olds, if only to boost their developmental league and ruin high school basketball. Yes, I said high school. More later on this theory, I promise. . .

(. . .)

And finally, I know I’m late, but I’m going to see Batman Begins tonight. And, if you want an actual review of the film, within the context of Batman, under the umbrella of the Dark Knight’s legacy and implications, well, I don’t know who the hell else you would turn to. Sorry it’s late, but you’ll just have to deal.

So I hear you’re wondering where I stand on the Chicago Cubs. Well, good news, because I’m ready to tell you.

As I’ve said before, I doubt anything I say is really that different from what you can possibly read anywhere in the Cubs Blog Army, but the Cubs are the official team of Mr. Faded Glory, and as such, it’s necessary to devote certain posts to them.

In my opinion, it’s best to look at the Cubs within Dusty Baker’s three-year window. The almost-fairy-tale season of 2003, the crushing expectations of 2004, and the retooled, revamped, and reloaded 2005.

And you know what? The Cubs were really never that great of a team over any of that span.

It’s true. The 2003 Cubs played inspired baseball – even learning to take pitches specifically for the playoffs – but aside from an August and September hot streak, they weren’t much better than a .500 team. They slugged it out with Houston and St. Louis for much of the year atop the Central, and outlasted both squads when Mark Prior and Kerry Wood became unhittable down the stretch.

The 2004 team suffered from injuries. Period. It was an improved team, with full years from Derrek Lee, Aramis Ramirez, and Corey Patterson, but, in all honesty, if Prior and Wood make 5 more starts – the Cubs win the Wild Card. Sure, the year was a soap opera, but, come on, it’s Chicago. What season isn’t?

Now, in this season, the Cubs have unveiled an different look, jettisoning older talent, attempting to become younger in several places. They’re currently only 3 games over .500 – not too much different than the 2003 team, which never put .500 in the rearviewmirror until August.

And that’s fitting of this season’s Cubs. They’re probably a .500 team, truth be told. How many weeks have they gone 3-3? It’s frustrating, sure, they’ll play just well enough to keep you interested yet just poorly enough to drag you back down to reality. Still, there’s a lot of ifs involved….

They rode a nice hot streak in May and June, capitalizing on a West Coast trip, but stumbled again the following week against Toronto, Florida, and New York. They’re still navigating the toughest part of their schedule, and will – someday – have a chance at the Cardinals. They’re a long way back, but, well, most .500 teams are.

And, really, I don’t expect the world. I’m not living and dying with the season each day, like last year. What this team can give me is what they give me.

I’ve been encouraged, when the Cubs play better baseball than last year, in which players seemed not to understand the game. The Cubs still suffer from a misguided notion to swing early in counts, and they still suffer the occasional bullpen meltdown. So, they’re not much different than anyone else.

If they can stay in contention, rumor is that Jim Hendry is looking for some more pop to add to an outfield. Which is a good idea – Jason Dubois, Todd Hollandsworth, Jeromy Burnitz, and particularly Corey Patterson have all been underwhelming.

Supposedly his options are (a) Preston Wilson (yuck); (b) Aubrey Huff (okay); (c) Mark Kotsay (a godsend); and if Patterson is the one who has to go, as I’ve said before, you can’t trade him for Wilson. You can trade him for Kotsay, who would be a better fit at the top of the Cubs’ batting order, and who’s defense isn’t too much of a falloff.

That’s the Cubs. There’s good things about this season and bad things. Dusty Baker still maddeningly doesn’t know how to fill out a lineup card, and still adheres to the double switch – but I can overlook a few tactical miscues in exchange for a manager that inspires the team to run through a wall. His teams were never overwhelming in San Francisco, strikingly similar to this year’s Cubs – one otherworldly slugger surrounded by spare parts.

Sergio Mitre looks to have made the leap. Whether he continues to flourish as a Cub is yet to be seen, but it’s nice to see the Cubs’ instruction has prepared him for the big leagues. Glendon Rusch continues to be a find as a starter or long reliever. The Ryan Dempster Experiment appears to have paid off – Ryano is now a solid (cough) closer. At least he has his head on straight.

And, the much-maligned bullpen – well, Wuertz, Wellemeyer, Ohman have all done the job for the most part. Nice to see those younger arms rather than Mike Remlinger or the ghost of Joe Borowski.

King Jeromy the Wicked isn’t the greatest — but he plays hard and has been an upgrade over Sammy Sosa (version 2004), and Aramis Ramirez has (finally) rounded into form. Mike Barrett is an all-star, and Derrek Lee is the MVP. Too many ifs surround this team to expect them to contend (If Corey can ever figure it out, if Neifi can keep being productive, if the pitchers come back as promised.)

But you know what? If they can stay somewhat close to the Cardinals, then maybe the ifs can work out – if they continue to play hard … well, who says another hot streak isn’t in the August (ahem) cards? Meaningful September baseball is what we ask for each season. And it’s well too early to dismiss that. So, go cubs. If they’re playing their best baseball at the end of the season, anything can happen.

Whew! Quite a week in America’s heartland. Not only has it been (typically) sweltering and humid, random annoyances have cropped up professionally and personally, and I’m trying to keep my head above water. Like a newswire, we’ll make piecemeal stops through the brain of MFG.

How sweep it is
Drove to Kansas City on June 2 and spent a day at the K for the Royals’ sweep of the hated New York Yankees. It’s rare to ever see Kauffman stadium rocking; fickle fans, B-league players, and half-assed personnel combine to make the Royals one of the more pathetic franchises in recent memories.

Luckily, the Yankees came to town, and every drunken military personnel assclown claiming to be a Yankee lifer was in the stands yelling for T-Wo! Knock dis one in, T-Wo, yeah, youse royals sucks!
I sat near some kids, so in my advancing age, I kept my prized T-shirt under wraps. I also neglected to bring a broom. Still, good times…

Here in my car, I feel safest of all.
I do not miss the convoluted freeway system of Kansas City, and my car apparently didn’t miss it either. The ride was smooth, however, once in gridlock, my car began to whine as it labored into second gear. The trip home was okay, but the end diagnosis — the transmission is cooked.
I’m not a gearhead, but I knew that this was bad. I had a profound affection for this car, staying true to my family’s drag-racing roots. It had a 3800 engine, which is very good, and all the bells and whistles you could ask for. It’s been across the country and back four times with me, and until this last year, was a great car. However, undaunted, I’m forced to trade (sniffle) for a new ride.
Plans aren’t final, I’m still shopping around. I’m a car guy, I hate SUVs, and I like GMs. I can’t afford a whole lot, but I think I’m going to be able to upgrade at least to a newer Monte Carlo.
However, the bulk of my time this last week-and-a-half has been researching cars, talking to scummy car dealers, talking to my mechanic (note: A good mechanic is like a good doctor, only more important), and test-driving vehicles. I’m getting close, and the instant gut-punch of a $2800 new transmission is now securely in the, ahem, rearviewmirror.

Audioslave, Out of Exile.
Disclaimer: I’m a Soundgarden fan, so the fact that Audioslave’s first record was more reminiscent of SG than Rage was a huge plus for me. In fact, it’s (so far) my pick of album of the millennium, PJ boots excluded.
However great Audioslave’s debut was, however, the second one is good, but a little lackluster. It’s a little too polished, a little too generic.
From the title to the design to the lyrics to the songs, it’s just somewhat uninspired. After the first one languished in my player for a few years, I couldn’t help but feel some natural disappointment with the new one, but there it is. Still good, but, you know, not great.

The Cubs.
Do I wanna jinx the Cubs? did I just segue into them with the word ‘great?’ Forget I said any of this. Or even typed it. In fact, I’m not even here.

Lords of Dogtown
At the request of Ms. Faded Glory, we attended LOD this weekend in the Small Apple, which failed to arrive in Salina, the Offical U.S. Capital of Boredom as Anointed by Mr. Faded Glory. It was perhaps too cutting-edge for the Republican/wheat-harvester crowd. (The Honeymooners, apparently, is much less so, as it played in three theaters over the weekend.)
Anyway, the movie’s all right, about what you’d expect. Watchable, but not necessarily memorable. It plays like a Lifetime TV-movie, however, (the dialogue and acting make you snicker) and if you’re going to try and catch Skateboarding Fever, that ain’t gonna happen. If you’re attending solely to gawk at Heath Ledger, well, better rent A Knight’s Tale (Ha-ha, Ms. Faded Glory.)
However, it’s interesting to see the previews that play before B-list releases, sometimes you glimpse solid films upcoming, rather than the same preview for Hitch that played before every single movie in the country between November and February. A sampling:

Stealth — Jamie (Don’t call me Philadelphia Athletics slugger Jimmie) Foxx and Jessica Biel combat some robot-pilot contraption that’s taking air force jobs from pilots. Ouch. Can we conference in Michael Bay for this POS?

Oh, wait, Michael Bay is directing The Island, previewed as a complete ripoff of The Matrix, with Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson. When a tagline is “From the director of Pearl Harbor and Armageddon,” you should run screaming.

Dark Water (f/ Jennifer Connelly) — Looks like a worthy video pick, because it’s a preposterous horror movie. I think the title is ripped off. I’m right.

The Cave. My god, the melodrama meter is shattering right now in the theater. Did I mention no one else is watching Lords of Dogtown today? We’re in a completely-empty theater. This hasn’t happened since Vegas Vacation. I’m trying to score some serious action like a junior-high kid, but apparently we’re too grown up for that.

The Devil’s Rejects — I think I’m supposed to be scared at the hint of bloodshed, but the money shot of a renegade crew looking like Courtney Love, Charles Manson, and the dude from Midnight Oil walking down a highway just made me chuckle. How do we sleep while our beds are burning?!

And, finally, America….
Yes, I know it goes without saying that you’re all happy to have me back, and the feeling is reciprocated. Reminds me of a classic Newsradio line:

Dave, We both know you took my cane. When you deny it you insult not only me, but yourself as well as … My cane.

Actually, that has nothing to do with anything. But I’m already laughing. Aren’t you?