A New Classic or Modern Misstep? Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special, Reviewed

 James Gunn's Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special takes a few of its cues from 1978's near-mythical Star Wars Holiday Special, which is ironic, as the latter is almost uniformly derided and has never been rebroadcast or released on home video.

Like the SWHS, the GotG Holiday Special mixes animation, music, humour, action, and sentiment to try to reach an increasingly jaded audience with a message about the values of this season. Does this unlikely-seeming mashup transcend the original, or is it destined to join Chewbacca's on Lumpy in pop culture's fickles trash heap?

Yeah, I think they nailed it. In fact, at this point, having watched it twice, I am ready to give GHS the number two spot in my definitive (and highly subjective) all-time Christmas TV shows ranking.

Like the Star Wars special, this one also includes an animated flashback, rotoscoped for extra retro charm. Peter Quill, as a young boy on a Ravager starship, enlists first mate Kraglin in trying to recreate Christmas with a stubby tree and presents. Yondu, unsurprisingly, does not approve, and gosh but it is good to hear Michael Rooker in that role again!

But once you return to live-action, a good holiday special has to be entertaining, and it can do this through suspense, action or drama, but will most commonly draw from comedy. It must also walk a delicate balance between sincere emotion and treacly sentiment or nostalgia. My number one pick, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, remains my favourite example of this because animator Chuck Jones is a bona fide genius.

But GHS does the humour just as well as The Grinch, particularly in conveying an alien's perspective on just how ridiculous much of our Christmas lore and holiday traditions would seem to an extraplanetary outsider. And best of all, they do it in a song performed by alt-country legends The Old 97s very early in the show in order to set the stage for the mayhem to come. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQOb1fybgW0

The rest of the music in the special is a great mix (dare I say "awesome"? 😋), enhancing Gunn's already significant soundtrack reputation with artists ranging from The Pogues to The Waitresses and Smashing Pumpkins 

There is also a ton of slapstick and some very well-done fish-out-of-water comedy demonstrated by Mantis (Pom Klementieff) and Drax (Dave Bautista) as they return to Earth and wander around Hollywood looking for the gift that they believe will save Christmas for their dear friend Peter (Chris Pratt) - the legendary Kevin Bacon.

Saving Christmas can be a contrived goal of the highest order when handled poorly or literally (or both) in fare like Santa Claus Conquers the Martians, but it works here because these two Guardians aren't trying to save Christmas for the entire world or even save it from itself  (like they do so well in my number three pick, A Charlie Brown Christmas) - no, they are trying to save a memory of Christmas for someone they love and respect, and one of them has a great reason for doing it which I shall not spoil. 

For us MCU nerds, it is also a chance to check in on the cosmic corner of an increasingly expanding catalogue of people, places and things before Vol. III of GotG comes out next May. This special is the capstone for Phase 4 of the MCU and doesn't waste any time with major linkages, but there are some offhand references and a couple nice easter eggs (and a post-credits scene, natch). I was also glad to finally hear the voice of Cosmo the space dog, but have to confess I alway heard their voice as male when reading the comics. 

The Guardians of the Galaxy Holiday Special is the whole package: great laughs, wonderful music, cracking dialogue and a heartfelt message about why Christmas can matter to everyone, regardless of their beliefs and proximity to Sol III, and whether or not they have heard of it before. And it is only 45 minutes long, so definitely consider adding it to your selection of Christmas tv shows, at least for this year. 

Tabletop D&Debut

We hosted our dear friends the Hawkins this weekend - the first time they have been able to stay with us since 2019. Even through the pandemic we have managed to at least maintain our traditional pre-Xmas get-togethers, even at the zoo or with Fort Edmonton standing in for one of our homes.

Normally we try to get in some sort of outing, but no one was really feeling it this year, so instead Jon took me up on my offer of teaching him and his boys Caleb (gr. 10) and Josiah (gr. 7) how to play D&D, something he hadn't done since university. And that was how we spent the majority of our Saturday afternoon. I had found some cool dice sets online that even came with cool-looking bags, and we rolled off with an oversized d20 to see who would get first pick of the colours.

Fenya and Bobby joined us, both to get in some extra visiting and add a little oomph and experience to the party. I found some pre-made character sheets for first-level characters (possibly from Lost Mine of Phandelver?) and everyone rolled off to see who would get first pick.

 A short while later, Thoradin the Dwarf cleric (Jon), Galendan the Elf wizard (Caleb), Z'baltazar the archer (Josiah), Tilly the Halfling rogue (Fenya) and Halbard the axeman (Bobby) were duly assigned and miniatures chosen that at least roughly approximated them. (I was actually pretty chuffed that Josiah selected an old Grenadier model for his archer  that I had painted back when I was probably his age!

We took a few moments going over the different dice and then went over the character sheet in a moderate amount of detail, but before anyone could get too bored, we kicked off our adventure.

I had purchased a set of short adventures called Defiance in Phlan when I was introducing the game to Bryce and Sara; five mini-quests designed to be playable in a single evening at a game store. I highly recommend this, and the segment we played (The Dead at Highsun) was an ideal introductory scenario wherein a cemetery official asks the party to accompany him while he investigates a crypt.

The game kicks off, not with a fight, but with a trap, seeing the players working together to solve a puzzle within a sealed crypt while gas seeping in kept the pressure on.

Then they had to explore the secret catacombs beneath the crypt, fighting skeletons and zombies (very tough opponents for a first-level party!) while discovering their secret weakness.

And when all was said and done, Z'baltazar simply had to know what happened when he poured the blue beaker into the green cauldron in one of the previous chambers, and was horrified to discover it reanimated the skeletons they had already fought! I applied a little creative license and leveled them up before the undead rematch, and everyone managed to make it back and receive their reward - only one death save ended up getting rolled.

When we were all done and packing up, I asked everyone what they thought of D&D and was a little surprised that Josiah was the first one to speak up, saying "I want to play again." Delightful!

Listening to him and Caleb relate their adventure (and misadventures!) to their mum Michelle over dinner reminded me of similar tales related to my family and other non-players when I first picked up the game in junior high. Nerd persecution was a bit more pronounced back then, so finding other players could be difficult but it was always gratifying to find someone else who knew what saving throw or armour class meant.

Now nerdy stuff is mainstream and even kind of cool, and D&D is a hugely successful product with its own pop-culture cachet and even a major motion picture coming out. (I know it's not the first - we don't talk about the Jeremy Irons one.) But as big as it gets, and even with a plethora of how-to books and tutorial videos and live-play sessions to guide newbies through the rules, learning to play with friends around a table is still the best kind of experience, and one I was pleased and privileged to introduce Caleb and Josiah to.

I hope they get to use their new dice again soon!

Treasure or Salvage? - Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, Reviewed

I can't say for sure why the death of Black Panther actor Chadwick Boseman two years ago had such a profound impact on so many people, myself included. 

It probably has something to do with the intersectionality of Boseman's dedication and compassion combined with the intrinsic nobility of T'Challa, the royal leader and superhuman protector of an afro-futurist kingdom in a comic-book universe. He was an actor who recognized the significance of being the first black superhero on the big screen, and carried himself like a king, but with abject humility. Such a loss!

Following up the immense success and cultural impact of the first Black Panther (2018) would have been a tall order even if Boseman had lived; with the director and studio refusing to recast the character, how do you carry on? 

Well, to begin with, you lean into the grief.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever opens with the death of the eponymous character from an unnamed disease and carries on from there with the grieving of T'Challa's sister Shuri (Letitia Wright) and his mother Queen Ramonda (Angela Bassett), as well as the kingdom of Wakanda. 

But Wakanda must also deal with an increasing number of nations becoming increasingly desperate to obtain the African nation's greatest resource, vibranium, and are becoming ever more forceful in their efforts. Wakanda's uncompromising defensive stance makes it all too easy to blame them for an attack on a ship that has found the miracle element at the bottom of the Atlantic. 

But a new player has entered the MCU -the undersea kingdom of Talocan and its headstrong ruler Namor (Tenoch Huerta) - and like his vainglorious namesake from the comics, Namor does not hesitate to demand Wakanda turn over the scientist who helped locate the oceanic vibranium so they can be killed.

Director and co-writer Ryan Coogler has to deftly weave together a story that not only balances personal grief and geopolitics, but also introduces established comics characters like the Sub-Mariner and Ironheart, while establishing a credible way for the Black Panther's mantle to be passed on to a worthy successor.

The fact that he does this as well as he does should not come as too big a surprise, but the fact that he does so almost exclusively through the lens of black women, including T'Challa's lover Nakia (Lupita N'Yongo) is absolutely amazing, in my opinion. Coogler and his co-writer Joe Robert Cole (who also co-wrote the original BP) have re-entered the world of Wakanda and its amazing people at full stride in one of the MCU's better sequels, with a screenplay that blends Lee/Kirby comics chutzpah with realpolitik out of John LeCarré or Tom Clancy, all against a backdrop of ongoing family tragedy that is Shakespearean in both its depth and scale.

Is it as strong a movie as the first? Sadly, no. It is probably a smidgen too long (at 2:41, the second-longest of all the MCU), and Namor's imperiousness is no match for Killmonger's righteous anger from the first film. There is a hint of a same-sex relationship that Marvel again fails to capitalize on and no one can be surprised that the climax of the film is a massive set piece that begs to be reenacted with action figures.

But that last bit, despite feeling a bit inevitable or compulsory when considered alongside most ot the other 29 MCU films, makes sense in the context of this story, and is engaging and unpredictable as it sets the stage for a possible revenge. 

And Namor's origin and that of the Talocans (a stand-in for the Atlantis of Marvel Comics) is a brilliant mix of science and fantasy that will prevent any comparison to the undersea denizens of the Distinguished Competition, and firmly establishes him as more of an anti-hero, despite his undeniably villainous actions. Design-wise, I think Namor is also the best cinematic homage to the comic look since the Vulture in Spider-Man: Homecoming. The green trunks are in play and yes, they even managed to make those tiny ankle wings cool - don't ask me how.

And I am always glad to see the corners of the MCU fleshed out a little bit, as they do in a handful of scenes featuring CIA Director Valentina Allegre de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) and operative Everett Ross (Martin Freeman). I hope they repeat this and more things like it a few more times before the release of Marvel's Thunderbolts in 2024.

Most importantly though, is that every scene with established characters drips with belief and power. Bassett's grief as Queen Ramonda feels real. Wright's anger at Shuri's inability to save her brother is evident even in scenes where that is not the focus. The frustration and shame of Okoye (Danai Gurira) is palpable. And even Huerta's Namor vacillates between imperious and marginalized in a complex manner that is compellingly charismatic. 

Wakanda Forever may not feel quite as seismically significant as its predecessor, but it continues the story of Wakanda - and introduces those of Namor and Ironheart - with grit and feeling, right in the sweet spot between the comic book fantasy we love and the real emotional heft we need. And you can feel the spirit of both Chadwick Boseman and T'Challa throughout the film - hats off to Ryan Coogler and company for taking what could have been merely the salvage recovered from tragic circumstance, and turned it into a treasure of a touching adventure film.

Answering the Call...of Cthulhu!

Last weekend we finally got started on a role-playing game campaign that has been in the works for literal years: The Masks of Nyarlathotep, a legendary campaign for the venerable Call of Cthulhu system.

By venerable, I mean the gaming system for pitting hapless mortal investigators against the machinations of H.P. Lovecraft's other-worldly horrors has been around almost as long as Dungeons & Dragons itself, and is currently in its 7th edition.

I remember my friend Dave dismissing the appeal of the game when we were in high school: "Oh yeah, you and your elbow-patched academics in the middle of Prohibition, grabbing a tommy-gun to fight off Yog-Sothoth or whatever? Hard pass!" And for years, I shared that opinion - my love of a fair fight precluded my interest in such a paradigm, and I only had a middling interest in Lovecraft's works anyhow.

But while visiting my friend Jim in Calgary - three years ago I think - he described how the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society had commissioned a radio play based on one of Chaosium's most popular adventures, the aforementioned Masks, and gave me an MP3 so I could listen to it on my drive home to Edmonton.

I had three of the eight one-hour episodes under my belt by the time I got home and listened to the rest in very short order, and felt myself really drawn into this tale of a largely random group of people drawn into battle with a global cult trying to destroy the world. The fact that this audio adaptation had great voice acting with period-appropriate musical cues and tremendously produced commercials ("the only toothpaste with radium) only added to my enjoyment.

This of course piqued my interest in perhaps running this campaign myself, once we wrapped up The Tyranny of Dragons, anyways. Everything I read about Masks of Nyarlathotep suggested an enormous and challenging (for both the player and game master) story with a scale incomparable to almost anything else. Almost every list of best adventures published for any system includes Masks somewhere in the top five, and there have been five different editions of it published since the first one in 1986; like I said: venerable.

Call of Cthulhu is a horror RPG, and maintaining the necessary atmosphere in an online game seemed impossibly difficult to me. Besides, the game makes extensive use of marvelously produced player handouts - posters, letters, newspaper clippings and book pages - so I asked the local G&Geeks what they thought, and they were keen on the idea. So much so, in fact, that they split the cost with me for the deluxe slipcase edition of Masks, with 666 pages of adventure, plus a special Keeper's screen and 97 handouts for the players! 

Then I came across the Gamer Prop Set for the campaign by the HPLHS, the same people who produced the radio drama; clippings and full broadsheets printed on actual newsprint! Torn out notebook pages! Period maps, cardstock flyers and a physical matchbox! I mentioned it to the players more as a point of interest, but their ultimate response was "why the heck wouldn't we split the cost on this as well?"

And so we jumped in with both feet, and the box came in June, more than two years after I floated the idea to the group, which was a year after a chance encounter with a fake radio drama. And last weekend we finally got to play!

We had gotten together over the summer to play a few one-shots with pre-made characters, then spent a couple of evenings this fall getting everyone a proper player character (and a back-up character - Call of Cthulhu is legendarily fatal!) so we could get stuck right in to it.

In the first evening of play, we unraveled a bit of the story, and I got to show the players a few of the props I had been provided:

The clipping which drew several of the players to Peru

The telegram welcoming them to the expedition

A gorgeous map of Peru

The coins (bought separately) used as tokens to reward good role-playing

We are still getting our feet wet, and scheduling remains the greatest challenge to any type of consistent group gaming, but I feel we are off to a great start. My fears about the unlevel playing field have given way to the real potential for dramatic storytelling and heroism within a system both incredibly asymmetric and unbelievably unforgiving. It is not a system or adventure I would have really been ready to enjoy before I was probably in my mid-thirties. And so far everyone is keen and intrigued, even without a single combat roll in 4-5 hours of play!

Which is good, because the amount of material (and the experience of those who have completed it) suggests that playing twice a month or so will likely see our Masks campaign wrap up in 2025!

Ghost Story?

We had a Hallowe'en theme for our team meeting at work this past Thursday, and as someone willing to speak publicly, I was asked if I would like to share a ghost story - this is what I said (as best I can recall).

Asking me to tell a ghost story is kind of a tricky proposition. Do I believe in ghosts? Well, not really, but kind of?

I believe in the soul, in a way that no religious belief can fully lay claim to. I don't think most people would question the existence of a part of us that exists beyond or physical and mental selves. Is the emotional axis simply a subset of our minds? Perhaps, but then you could argue that consciousness itself is simply a fragment of our physical brains.

No, I believe the feeling part of us is potentially even deeper and less understandable than the thinking piece. And I appreciate that this assertion requires a bit of faith on its own - if a soul exists, it does so without any ability to be measured, categorized or catalogued in any meaningful way.

And something that ephemeral and immeasurable is, by definition, without limits. So if a soul is real, is it possible to determine what it might be capable of? And could this even extend to a soul somehow surviving the corporeal death of the body that formerly hosted it?

Who can say?

When I lived in Toronto and worked for Games Workshop, one of the Brits who came over to set up the Canadian operation was a good-natured and very smart fellow named Martin. One night over drinks the manager of the Queen Street shop (our oldest store at the time) was joking about the day that rats displaced the mice that you would sometimes hear running across the suspended ceiling.

Martin smiled and said, "When I was a lad, in Tipton, I heard a thumping and sliding noise from the attic above my bedroom.  I figured it was a rat, and I grabbed a stick or a hammer or summat and headed up to sort it out. But when I got up there and shone my torch around, I couldn't see anything, so I figured I must have heard something hit the roof and slide off..

"A few days later, I heard the noise again, kind of a thump! sssslide kind of sound, and it repeated. I pulled the ladder down from the attic and raced up, but same as before, couldn't see anything. It didn't even look like the dust up there had been disturbed, and it definitely sounded like something being dragged right over my head.

"The following week, I heard the sond again: thump! sssslide, thump! sssslide, thump! sssslide. I went down stairs and told my mum I was getting freaked out by a noise in the attic."

Someone interjected, "How old were you, Martin?"

Martin stroked his chin, saying "Ten or eleven, I think? Old enough that my mum laughed that I was getting wound up by mice running overhead.

"I told her, 'No, mum! It's bigger than mice, I thought maybe rats, but there's no tracks or scat upstairs, and it sounds like something being dragged around.'

"'Like what?' Mum said, and I banged my foot on the floor and dragged it a couple of times, to imitate the thump! sssslide, thump! ssssslide sound I had heard.

"I dunno what I was expecting, but it was not to have all the colour drain out of my Mum's face. She looked at me with serious eyes and said, 'that's the sound of your grandfather's walk. And he died in this house.'

"I thought she was taking the mickey out of me, and I said 'Wot? No way Mum!' but she went on. 'You were too little to remember, but your grandfather hurt his leg in a bad bike accident and dragged his right foot behind him all the time after that.'

"I laughed and said, 'Are you trying to freak me out or something?' but she shook her head. 'Go ask you Gram,' pointing to the living room. 'She'll tell you.'

"I didn't really want to know at this point, but at the same time I felt I kind of had to, y'know? So I went into the living room where my blind Gram was knitting and had the tv on so she could hear her stories, and I asked, 'Gram, did Granddad walk with a limp?'

"'Ooh, yes,' she said, 'he dragged his foot behind him til the end of his days - I could always hear him around; thump, slide, thump, slide...'

"She said that, y'know, and all the hairs on my body stood straight up. And then she said, 'I still hear him.'"

We all sat there, looking at Martin and exchanging uncertain glances with each other, and he continued, "I'm an atheist, and I don't want to believe in ghosts, but if you asked me now if I believe in them, well, I couldn't rightly say 'no', now, could I?"

Buc-ee’s, The Texas-Sized Pit Stop

I am in Texas! Tara and Jerry flew me down because after his stem cell transplant in November (well, December now), they will have to go into Covid-style lockdown for 100 days. 

Visiting Texas is a treat and with Jerry having great insurance from his employer and easy access to the M.D. Anderson Center, probably the best place on the planet to get treatment for leukemia, I have never been so happy for people I love to be living so far away!

They are both in pretty good spirits and well-supported by their health providers, so we have been relatively unrestricted in terms of activities, pending Jerry’s energy levels and overall stamina, of course. So on Saturday, following his check up at MDA, we decided to take a trip out to the Johnson Space Center, but made a critical detour along the way.

We drove maybe ten miles past the NASA HQ to Texas City and a big gas station right next to the highway, because no trip to The Lone Star State is complete without a trip to Buc-ee’s.

You are no doubt curious, as I was, as to why a highway rest stop would be warranted as a tourist destination, and the truth is, it is hard to explain what makes Buc-eee’s so distinct. After all, we have some big gas stations and Flying J truck stops to marvel at here in Canada, don’t we?

Well, to begin with, there’s the scale of it: where a big gas station in Canada might have a dozen pumps, the average Buc-ee’s has close to (or over) a hundred. And there are no semis or big rigs allowed, all private vehicles.

The size difference extends to the store as well - it isn’t just big for a gas station shop, it has a footprint similar to many Canadian Tires I have shopped in.

What do they do with all this space? Well, a lot of it is dedicated to a large, clean, bank of washrooms, one of the biggest draws for those travelling the Texas highways, but I felt inappropriate photographing it so I didn’t.

But like all such store, a large part of the floor space is taken up by racks of snacks, including the (in)famous Wall of Jerky.

Oh, you are a vegetarian? No problem, there are trays of fruit and salads in a cooler like you would find in your grocery store. There is also a roastery serving up paper cones of hot glazed pecans, cashews and almonds.  Need more than a snack? No problem, grab a hot, freshly made BBQ brisket sandwich or chicken on a bun from the sandwich stand.

There are racks and racks of fountain drinks of all varieties and a stand of slushies to select from, as well as coolers full of bottled and tinned beverages (including beer and wine, of course). But even then you are still only halfway through the store!

Next you hit all the Buc-ee’s branded merchandise; an astonishing array of stickers, tshirts, badges, hats and all that sort of thing of course, but also loungewear, sweaters, pyjamas, jackets and more, much of which is is high demand in my household. 

.

And not just clothing - Buc-ee’s has a wide selection of branded home decor, including wall hangings, yard decorations and even charcuterie boards.

There are also unbranded apparel and decor items as well, most of which evoke a certain rustic or good ol’boy/girl/person sensibility.

And lastly, you will find a certain a decent selection of outdoor equipment and hardware, suitable for replenishment or possibly fully outfitting a camping trip or fishing expedition,  it which I didn’t think to document.

So there you have it - we really have nothing in .Canada to match it, and while it don’t think we need it, it is always a treat to visit Buc-ee’s, and once you know what it is, there is a weird sort of charm that makes it appealing.

But now that I think of it,  the idea of something so massive, so pervasive and so instantly recognizable within Texas but being virtually unknown  in Canada (and even in much of the U.S.) is probably a big part of its appeal to us…

Please feel free to disregard the preceding blog post - unless you visit Texas. Then I hope you visit a Buc-ee’s and see for yourself! I’m certainly grateful that Tara and Jerry insisted on taking us to one, and making a detour on this trip so I could revisit it.

GR8FUL

 A week after Thanksgiving, I am still consciously grateful for so many things in my life that it felt time to make an accounting of them. Well, some of them, anyways -an exhaustive list would be near impossible.

...for this warm fall day, brightly lit and dry, unseasonably so for mid-October.

...for a family that loves, respects and appreciates each other (and is willing to spend over an hour trying to snap a good fall picture before the wind takes all the foliage off the trees that line 97 street!). 

...for the opportunity to visit my sister and her husband in Houston next week, before he goes in for a bone marrow transplant in November.

...for my brother-in-law to be living so close to one of the best treatment centers in the world for his leukemia (and for the health insurance that lets him access it).

...for attending a church committed to life in the 21st century, and to reconciling with those we have historically wronged, like the Indigenous peoples and the LGBTQ2S+ community.

...for friends who I can spend hours with on the most ridiculous pastimes - or hours in conversation about almost nothing at all.

...for Sara's pregnancy going so smoothly (overall!) and her currently being scheduled to deploy another grandchild into our orbit in less than three weeks (a child who, like her brother, I will have no blood connection to, but have instead the immense privilege of having been asked to call myself grandfather! (Or, more accurately: Poppy.)

...for a canine companion who, though perhaps irretrievably insane, is a tremendous comfort and has filled much of the hole left in our hearts after Nitti left us two years ago. Now if she would just stop stealing my spot in bed when I visit the bathroom in the dead of night...