Director David Yates has taken the Harry Potter franchise a long way from the Sorceror’s Stone. In the opening moments you get just a small taste of what’s ultimately the darkest two and a half hours yet — the Dursleys nervously moving out of their home at 4 Privet Drive because it’s “not safe,” Hermione erasing all traces of her existence with her muggle parents, and the torture and death of one of Hogwarts’ teachers. All this before the credits. What the hell is going on here? It doesn’t feel like all that long ago we were first looking at Diagon Alley.

Most of the old familiar places are nowhere to be found, however. Harry is whisked from Privet Drive to the Weasley Burrow, and the trip proves a lot more difficult than it should be for everyone involved. Death Eaters ruin everything. Another Death Eater attack disrupts a wedding there, and just like that Harry, Hermione and Ron are all but cut off from the wizarding world, their circle of reliable friends shrinking constantly as Voldemort solidifies his stranglehold on their society.

The story is exceptionally tense. The three young wizards are forced out into the world to find and destroy Voldemort’s remaining horcruxes, but they have no clue how to do that. In the book, the first half is bogged down with Harry and company wandering around, discovering clues and backstory by sheer luck most of the time.

Yates and writer Steve Kloves deserve credit for being able to take the first half of the story and inject it with all the fear, hopelessness and confusion that Rowling wanted while conjuring a narrative momentum that the novel lacked. Yates has proven to be an exceptional director for the latter half of the franchise because he’s able to get to the heart of Rowling’s intentions far more capably than she was able to do in the novel. Remember the Ministry of Magic throwdown in Order of the Phoenix? Yates was able to take the worst-written action sequence in all seven novels and make it one of the best scenes in all eight films. That, my friends, is talent not to be overlooked.

It helps that Radcliffe, Watson and Grint have turned into such capable actors. We’ve watched the cast and crew grow to meet the story’s demands, and by this point they’ve nailed everything they’ve been asked to do. Daniel needs to wear a bra so he can play Fleur Delacour pretending to be Harry Potter? Done. Need Radcliffe and Watson to kiss passionately for Ron’s jealous fever-dream, even though it’s (by all accounts) like making sweet love to your sister? No problem. There are a few other difficult sequences that Yates manages to pull off simply by giving enough of a damn about telling a good story, making sure the feel is exactly right. He gets his three young leads to jump right in with him, and the results are quite impressive.

Not quite everything lands, though. The movie is perhaps a little too long, and Ron’s jealousy of Harry and Hermione comes on a little too quickly even though you’re given all the pieces you need to explain it. And even though pains are taken to bring meaningful emotional beats on-screen, there’s still far too much that happens away from the camera. There’s a lot of death and tragedy that don’t have as much weight as they should. Even still, when tragedy is focused on, it’s really effective. I’m not ashamed to admit I teared up in a spot or two.

By the end of this first part, Harry and company have found their way at least. They know what the Deathly Hallows are and why Voldemort is looking for them, they’ve discovered how to destroy the horcruxes, and they’re slowly enabling themselves to put up a defense against Voldemort. The weakest part of the story has already been told. If the craftmanship behind it can make it this good, I can only imagine how kick-ass part two is going to be.

When Associated Student Bodies hit it big in 1998 and 1999, it opened the floodgates for what’s become a dominant form of furry storytelling, especially in comics: the collegiate slice-of-life tale. People never get tired of taking a crack at journeys of self-discovery, of the process and aftermath of coming out. And that’s completely reasonable: it’s a ready-made source of high drama, and fairly relatable to all of us who are of the hobby. If we haven’t lived it, chances are we know someone who has.

Of course, not every slice-of-life tale is created equal. There are a lot of authors who can’t walk the fine line between mundanity and drama, tipping into soapy melodrama or the boring recount of someone’s experience with no connective thread to pull you along. The best slice-of-life is supposed to take the ordinary and present it in a way that makes it fantastic. After leaving the quietly wonderful world of the story, you look around to find yours is that world. A good author leads you to find the extraordinary in your own existence.

Unfortunately, Seeing Spots by Andres “Cyanni” Halden doesn’t manage that. In fact, more often than not I found myself having finished a chapter asking what on Earth he was meaning to do with it. Is the novel meant to be entertainment only? Is it supposed to convey a message? If so, what? What’s the emotional arc of the characters? How have they changed from the beginning of the novel to the end? What are we left with after we’ve read the final page?

College freshman Theo Gottleib receives an ominous message in his fortune cookie during dinner: “You will be seeing spots.” Shortly thereafter he meets up with fraternity president Khan Carter, a snow leopard who’s handsome, confident, well-connected and openly gay. They hook up, then navigate the somewhat tricky emotional waters of an actual relationship. Fleshing things out is a large cast of characters who really don’t stand out too much beyond their stereotype: the Straight (But Hot!) Friend, The Flaming Queen With a Surprise of Gold, the Jackass President of the Rival Frat, and so on. It’s not the fact that they’re stereotypes that’s so bad (though it certainly doesn’t help); it’s that he doesn’t even do anything new or even interesting with them. Any potential conflicts fizzle before they’re even fully formed.

At least half of the scenes focus on inconsequential details that become more of a distraction than anything. The story is littered with references to people playing video games, or kissing, or chatting when you can’t hear what they’re saying. The scenes could really be half as long as they are, and an awful lot of chapters could be summarized this way: Theo and Khan meet up in a noisy location, bs with some secondary characters for a bit, and then go somewhere private to cuddle and/or have sex.

There is a twist that appears halfway in the book that makes it even more disappointing. Just about everything that happens afterwards is simply unbelievable, and it’s clear that Halden doesn’t have a good grasp of how the situations that come up ought to go. I’m not an expert in the field myself, but the actions of everyone involved immediately struck me as nonsensical. The reasons that Khan’s father gives for his actions when Theo comes to visit — especially considering what they’ve been doing *and* what Theo does afterwards — are simply mind-boggling. It comes across as a clear excuse to keep Khan and Theo apart, even though the author doesn’t really do anything with the situation he created.

I could be being too rough on the story. After all, it might not be meant to ‘say’ anything at all. Couldn’t it be just a bit of light, entertaining reading? It certainly could. The problem there is that it doesn’t work on that level either. Neither Theo nor Khan are particularly interesting, because they’re not well-rounded characters. You don’t really know who they are or why they’re together, so it’s difficult to muster even a casual interest in their relationship. Considering that nothing threatens it, anyway, there’s really no reason to worry about it.

By and large the book could have really used a strong hand to give the story (and its author) focus. There’s no sense of movement in the novel, no connective thread to hold the chapters together, no meat at all on any of the characters. And because of that, it’s hard to care when they do things that are so obviously against the stereotype they’ve set. Remember the end of ASB, when Ricky took off his graduation gown to reveal some frilly underwear and everyone cheered? Or when Daniel’s father — a rabidly devout fundamentalist — paid for Marcus’ grad school because ‘he makes Daniel happy’? Seeing Spots is the legacy of those moments. It exists in a world so far unlike our own experiences — and without any recognizable logic — that it just can’t grab us the way it wants to, the way it needs to in order to be effective.

Sam Worthington is carving out a nice little niche for himself playing fantastic half-breeds. The Australian first gained Stateside notice playing the robot-that-isn’t in last year’s Terminator: Salvation and became a pretty big deal as the Na’vi-that-isn’t in the Oscar also-ran Avatar. Now, he’s gone for the three-peat as the demi-god Perseus, forsaking his divine parentage in this remake of the 1981 special-effects extravaganza. He does a pretty good job at it, being just ruggedly handsome enough to hold our attention between the big CG set pieces. The rest of the cast manages to hold their own, even if they sort of lose their personality once the necessary introductions are out of the way.

If you’re not familiar with the story of Clash, don’t worry. Man loses family, man declares revenge on the gods, finds out his father is a god, kicks a lot of ass to get his revenge anyway. It really is an excuse to throw a seemingly endless line of giant monsters at our heroes, which is just fine with us. More than anything, it strikes me as the metalhead fever-dream of what Greek mythology really should have been like.

One of the great things about this movie is that it never takes itself too terribly seriously. It knows exactly what it is, having had the benefit of seeing what its pedigree was. The original Clash (at least, to my uncultured view) was one of those slices of perfect 80s cheese that you couldn’t help but love. This new version might just occupy the same piece of our hearts in this generation — that is, if it can overcome the burden of being the first truly terrible 3D movie to come out since the revamped technology came back.

I won’t go into a big rant about how the 3D sucked and ruined the movie-watching experience for me. For one thing, other reviewers have covered that angle pretty thoroughly, and for another I didn’t bother seeing it in 3D. If there’s a chance that crappy conversion was going to ruin something, the solution is pretty obvious to me. You just see it the way old-fashioned people do and leave it at that. Problem solved.

There were only a few shots that looked like they would have come off better in 3D, but for the most part you can just save yourself the $5 and not feel like you’ve missed anything. The creatrues in this movie are pretty awesome — everything from the Medusa to the pegasus to the Kraken are just top-notch. The pegasus is especially noteworthy, actually. It’s really easy to make a winged horse look rather doofy, but here they take great care to make it feasible. In fact, I left the theater actually wanting one. (If a movie can make you want anything popularized by Lisa Frank, chances are it’s doing something right.)

Liam Neeson and Ralph Fiennes bring the necessary gravity to their godly characters, and the setting of Zeus’ throne room, with its real-time map-of-the-world floor, is also very very cool. The movie is infused with that cheesy, fever-dream quality of a good Greco-Roman myth, high on magical realism and melodrama. For two hours well-spent in the company of mindless entertainment, you could certainly do a lot worse.

Gold’s world is one of the most fun and rich I’ve visited in quite some time, in or out of the fandom. There are so many fascinating details about the society that it’s easy to fall into the setting completely; it feels logical, believable. The Panbestian Church, the rules of conduct and small greetings amongst carnivores and herbivores, the way the wider variety of physical differences establishes a range of behaviors, clothes, grooming practices and architecture that are both practical and fantastic, all of these things make Argaea stand head and shoulders above many other imagined furry societies. This is a bit of an over-reach here, especially considering the main focus of the stories (horny spy foxes and the wolves who love them), but Argaea is the closest we’ve come in furry fiction to the complexity and depth of Middle Earth, and I suppose this makes Gold our very own gay furry Tolkien.

Tolkien never had his hobbits bumping uglies, though, which is his loss. Another one of the charms of Gold is that he takes what’s long been considered vulgar and really put forth the work to make it respectable. Another one of the reasons I love Argaea is that Volle was the first novel that bridged the gap between porn and literature for me, and you always have a special place in your heart for the first time.

Before I descend any more into blowing Kyell’s huge…talent, let’s talk about the new novel that’ll be coming out this year at Further Confusion. Shadow of the Father finds us peeking back into Argaea several years after the events of The Prisoner’s Release. Volyan’s all grown up now, ready to step into the Lordship of Vinton, but we’re not following him. Instead, the action focuses on Yilon, his younger brother, who is whisked from the palace in Divalia to assume the lordship of a provincial country called Dewanne. As soon as he gets there, he and his companion — a mouse named Sinchon — are thrust into the middle of a very old social rivalry and complex political situation that tests their wits, determination and relationship.

This is a pretty big departure for Gold; there’s still the intrigue you’ve come to expect in the Argaea novels, but the novel is much more action-oriented than the previous ones. Most of it takes place within a breathless day, and both our protagonists are placed in mortal peril several times through that span.It’s the tensest novel yet, and while that works well for its readability, I think characterization suffers just a little bit.

Most of the action follows Yilon, as you might suspect, but there’s very little to recommend him to the casual reader. He’s young and impetuous, sure, and thrust into a life that he doesn’t want, but it’s easy to think that much of the trouble he’s put into is a situation of his own design. The situation is bad, it’s true, but young Yilon doesn’t think about the consequences of what he’s doing too often, or the effect his actions have on the people around him. He assumes that he exists in a vacuum, and he doesn’t realize otherwise until it’s too late.

On the other hand, he appears to be merely extending the long line of bad decisions that got him into this mess. Shadow of the Father turns out to be a great title for this novel, in more ways than one. I don’t want to say too much else for fear of giving away too much of the plot, but everyone who causes Yilon’s situation could have made better choices. When you take the long view, the characters (including, I suppose, our young hero) becomes more sympathetic, but while you’re reading the novel you just want to grab him by the scruff and whap him across the nose a few times.

Sinch steals the book as a much more sympathetic protagonist, though that might be my herbivore bias talking. His arc is quite satisfying; he goes from a meek little rodent who has the potential of being a pretty decent thief one day to a bad ass who’s come through his trial by fire golden pure. He makes mistakes, too, but he shows bravery, a steady head and tremendous will. I wonder if there’s a connection between that and the fact that his father has been missing for quite some time?

Either way, Gold shows a tremendous grasp of character and the complex relationships of family and political allies. He adds a sense of tension that makes this novel taut and thrilling. If you liked his previous Argaea stories, this latest will certainly not disappoint. Heck, even if you’re new to the world of Volle and his companions, Shadow marks a good entry point for great, lusty medieval fantasy.

Ok fine and one with a talking bear that shows his cock. Happy?

Battlestar Galactica
Syfy

Jakebe says: Ronald Moore and company couldn’t stick the landing creatively, but the series finale did still provide some wonderful character moments — Roslyn and Adama’s final farewell, Sharon’s redemptive act, and Tory (finally!) paying for Callie’s murder. And even still, a less than perfect sendoff doesn’t diminish the show’s success in the slightest; it’s still the one of the finest sci-fi epics ever to grace the airwaves. So say we all!

Lost
ABC

Jakebe says: The fifth season of Cuse and Lindelof’s perpetual mind-fuck of a show blew me away almost every single episode. Sayid shooting baby Ben! Sawyer stepping up to lead the Losties! Faraday’s mom! UnLocke! We finally started seeing some payoff that — somehow — only made me more confused. And the finale, in which Juliet is literally ripped away from Sawyer and detonated a hydrogen bomb by smashing it with a fucking rock, left us reeling and breathless and anxiously awaiting the sixth and final season, where literally anything can happen.

Survivor
CBS

Lovejoy says: Holy shit did you see Survivor this season?! Scoff about reality TV all you want, but in all the 19 seasons of the show there has never been a season this exciting. Not one, but two, game ending injuries. An incredible underdog story. And the craftiest, and smartest, player the game has ever seen. It’s no wonder the next season is changing the game significantly, you can’t do Survivor the same old way anymore.

Supernatural
CW

Jakebe says: Don’t be soured by the small but rabid fanbase. Supernatural has quietly become one of the best genre shows on television right now. The writing and characterization are consistently superb, and this season — the last of the show’s planned five-year arc — finds the Winchester brothers struggling to stop an apocalypse they inadvertently started. Kripke and crew even use their teen-girl-bait reputation for some inspired plothooks. From chicken-shit prophets of the Lord to the most assinine angels you’ve ever seen, Armageddon’s never been so fun.

True Blood
HBO

Jakebe says: I don’t know why this isn’t getting more love in the fandom, because this hot-mess of a supernatural Southern gothic tale went from guilty pleasure to bonafide delight in its second season. Maryann (Michelle Forbes) was the most divalicious Big Bad since Glorificus, and Jason Stackhouse (Ryan Kwanten) elevated himself from endearingly stupid sexpot to still-stupid-yet-awesome leader wannabe. The third season looks to really let the fur fly, with shapeshifter Sam on the road to find his parents and the addition of Alcide, a werewolf and (yet another) love interest for popular prude Sookie Stackhouse.

Glee
Fox

Lovejoy says: Glee had a few ups and downs in its first season. The show would fluctuate between brilliantly mean spirited comedy, to sappy and emotional after school specials. But even at its worst the show was still entertaining, and the musical performances were, for the most part, pretty great. Broadway stars Lea Michele and Cory Monteith definitely carry the show, but Jane Lynch’s evil Sue Sylvester is one of my favorite villains of all time.

V
ABC

Jakebe says: After Elizabeth Mitchell’s crazy-good performance as karmic-whipping-girl Juliet Burke on Lost, I’d watch her doing just about anything. Throw in Morena Baccarin as Queen-V Anna and you’ve got all the makings of another sci-fi parade of awesome. The four episodes we were teased with in November left us hanging just as things were coming together, and we hope people won’t have forgotten about the promise of this show when it returns in March next year.

Community
NBC

Lovejoy says: It took a few episodes for Community to get good, but when it did it got awesome. The show can’t seem to decide if it’s an ensemble comedy, or a story about Joel Mchale’s douchebag lawyer with a heart. The chemistry between the characters is amazing and their eccentricities have made me bust up laughing more than once.

The Venture Brothers
Cartoon Network

Jakebe says: Another gem of a show that doesn’t seem to be getting the attention it deserves, Doc Hammer’s send-up of those 60s boy-adventurer cartoons grows more assured every season. The season premiere alone earns it a place on this list, but the ability of the writers to find new depths in their satire of their source material — as well as incredible plots that makes their world stand well on its own — really carries it over the top. Plus, Hank and Dean’s progression from indistinguishable dweebs to father-hating slacker and mad-scientist-in-training, respectively, is a singular surprise and joy to watch

The Cleveland Show
Fox

Jakebe says: If an episode of American Dad last year is any indication, Seth McFarlane is painfully aware of furries, and he’s looking to make us as uncomfortable as possible by giving us exactly what we want. “Highlights” of The Cleveland Show include Tim the Bear showing his dick for steak, Tim and his wife Arianna making gooey ursine love in the Lincoln Memorial, and a crazed reindeer butt-raping Santa. But beyond that, Cleveland is actually a surprisingly sweet family comedy that combines the raunch you expect from McFarlane with a keen fondness for the traditions of the genre. It’s found its legs a lot quicker than American Dad did, that’s for sure.

Family Guy
Fox

Jakebe says: Exhibit B in my “McFarlane Loves/Hates Furries” argument: the season premiere, where Stewie and Brian travel to a world where anthropomorphic dogs keep humans on leashes, and a sight gag in a later episode which featured bipedal horses with short shorts and noticeable crotch bulges. This season’s also been notable for entire episodes devoted to minor characters Evil Monkey and (my personal favorite) Consuela, the Mexican maid. And Quagmire’s relentless verbal bitch-slapping of Brian is as shocking as it is awesome.

FlashForward
ABC

Jakebe says: From the hiring of Dominic Monaghan and Sonya Walger to random kangaroo appearance to an actual Oceanic Airlines poster in the background, this show is quite shameless in its ambition to become the next Lost. While it isn’t quite there yet, it is surprisingly entertaining. Each episode deepens the mystery for us bit by bit, tweaking the rules of the universe it’s created for itself and keeping us guessing right up to the very end. The fall finale, which saw Agent Mark Benford fired from the FBI and mysterious mad scientist Lloyd Simcoe abducted by an even more mysterious organization, kept us hooked for its return next year.

Fringe
Fox

Jakebe says: Fox looks determined to kill off all traces of sci-fi from its schedule; it doomed Dollhouse with a no-win timeslot and it’s stuck Fringe into 9 p.m. Thursdays, where it has to do battle with Grey’s Anatomy, CSI:, The Office and 30 Rock. That’s a shame too, because this nifty update of The X-Files has really hit its stride in the second season, balancing twisty mythology with great episodic storytelling and well-fleshed characters. Anna Torv is finally warming up as FBI agent Olivia Dunham and John Noble never disappoints as clueless, conscience-less mad scientist Walter Bishop.

We had a few more shows to talk about. Malin was quite fond of 30 Rock, but then Lovejoy accidentally deleted his entries like the dumbass weasel he is. But know that 30 Rock and The Office are still awesome, as are plenty of other shows we haven’t gotten the chance to fully watch.

The Fantastic Mr. Fox
Director: Wes Anderson

Jakebe says: Hands down the best furry movie of the year (and this was a pretty good year for us). Quirky and whimsical enough to engage children, this movie still had an undeniably mature sensibility. It’s one of those rare movies that you can grow up with; it becomes a slightly different movie every time you see it. Fortunately for us, George Clooney as a self-possessed trickster is pretty damned hot in all of them.

Up
Directors: Pete Doctor and Bob Peterson

Jakebe says: Pixar’s latest is notable for a whole host of reasons — it’s the highest grossing 3D movie of all time, if you had a heart at all, you cried in the first fifteen minutes (before our protagonist even said a word) and it gave us Dug, one adorable talking dog. Still, the story is what resonates most; the old crotchety man setting out on one last adventure to fulfill his wife’s lifelong dream and finding himself, his life and a dysfunctional family in the process. Way to go Pixar — you’ve proven for another year that you can do no wrong.

The Hangover
Director: Todd Phillips

Malin says: How hard is it to reinvent the stupid buddy comedy? It’s a tried and true formula, but “The Hangover” takes it to another level, giving us stupid buddies we care about, a mystery with delightful and sometimes side-splitting surprises at every turn, and heartfelt acting performances. To make Vegas more surreal and funny than it already is hasn’t been done this well since “Swingers.”

The Princess and the Frog
Directors: Ron Clements and John Musker

Jakebe says: Disney’s triumphant return to traditional animation was everything it needed to be — a crowd-pleasing musical in the finest Disney tradition, a bold, surprising movie that proved the company could do something modern, and a love letter to the spirit and character of New Orleans. It’s most stunning achievement, however, is Louis, who might finally dispel the memory of that horrible big-lipped alligator in All Dogs Go to Heaven.

Where the Wild Things Are
Director: Spike Jonze

Jakebe says: It’s hard to deny the craftsmanship in the look (a trippy and effective combination of puppety and CG) or the story (a deft, mature meditation of the complex emotional landscape of childhood), but this Spike Jonze adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s beloved children’s classic was a little inert for me. Fascinating as an intellectual exercise, I can’t say it worked as entertainment — it was more whimpering than wild. Still, this scored deeply with quite a lot of you, and who wouldn’t want to romp around in the woods with a bunch of giant monsters?

Sherlock Holmes
Director: Guy Ritchie

Lovejoy says: I was pleasantly surprised with how enjoyable Sherlock Holmes was. I love Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s detective, and while the film’s plot wasn’t a stellar mystery, it was entertaining and had a lot of the twists and set ups that Doyle uses in his novels. Just as important, Robert Downey Jr is amazing and embodied Holmes with the wit and narcissism I love him for. He carries the film, though he is supported by the charming likes of Jude Law.

Coraline
Director: Henry Selick

Jakebe says: This charming stop-motion animation is being ignored in a lot of year-end lists, and that’s a shame. It’s another movie that immerses you in its very unique world, and the story — adapted from the master of modern fantasy, Neil Gaiman — is a wonderful coming-of-age fable that has something for kids and adult alike. And, in a completely overlooked performance, Keith David totally rocks it as The Cat.

Watchmen
Director: Zack Snyder

Jakebe says: Despite the tweaks to this highly-anticipated adaptation, it was quite possibly the most faithful reworking you could get of Alan Moore’s complicated 1987 graphic novel. The action and effects were top-notch, but so were the story and acting — Watchmen is quite possibly the only movie that we wish Moore had given his blessing to. But hey, we understand; it’s an outrage to see Dr. Manhattan’s giant, blue, glowing penis to be treated so casually.

Up in the Air
Director: Jason Reitman

Malin says: Up In The Air is a film that really shines. It’s a tight, enjoyable movie, wonderfully acted and directed, with a story that is perfectly suited to our times and a message that resonates long after the final credits. It has everything: humor, surprises, emotion, drama, George Clooney, and Jason Bateman. No other movie this year has been as complete or as perfectly executed.

Star Trek
Director: JJ Abrams

Jakebe says: After the premature flame-out of Star Trek: Enterprise and the disappointing box office for Nemesis, folks were beginning to wonder if it was time to put the Federation on ice for a while. Then came JJ Abrams, who guided James T. Kirk and company back to cultural relevance with a cool, sweet sci-fi blockbuster. Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto make a better Kirk and Spock than Shatner and Nimoy did, and that’s saying something. Abrams continues to show a remarkable knack for spinning perfect pop-culture confections.

District 9
Director: Neil Blomkamp

Jakebe says: When I saw the roll-out for this movie’s ubiquitous advertising campaign (“This bus is for humans only!”), I knew it would be something special. Thankfully, I was right: District 9 taught Hollywood that it could make a great, gritty, instant-cult-favorite on a limited budget without any big name stars and effects that create a believable, down-to-earth world that still holds up under the weight of its heavy concept. I’m already looking forward to the return of CJ for Neil Blomkamp’s inevitable sequel.

(500) Days of Summer
Director: Marc Webb

Lovejoy says: I hesitate to call this film a romantic comedy, and I flat out refuse to use the stupid term “dramady”. I think I’ll make up a new terrible compound word, “melanchomedy”. Though there are some hilarious moments in here. Ultimately, 500 Days is a heartfelt, emotional film carried by the stars. I’ve never seen Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Zooey Deschanel so great, but I can’t wait to see more.

Zombieland
Director: Ruben Fleischer

Jakebe says: I expected good things from this, and joy of joys the movie turned out to be even better than I imagined. This along with 2012 put Woody Harrelson back on the map, and Jesse Eisenberg’s baby-faced hero establishes him as something much more than a poor man’s Michael Cera. Oh, and the little sister to Emma Stone’s bad-ass Wichita? None other than “Little Miss Sunshine” herself, Abigail Breslin. Perfectly cast and wickedly funny, this earns its place atop a genre that’s gotten incredibly crowded in recent years.

Avatar
Director: James Cameron

Jakebe says: It’s impossible to overstate Avatar‘s importance as the pop-culture fantasy event of the year. James Cameron’s return to the big screen met with the astonishing success we’ve come to expect from him, and it couldn’t have come at a better moment. In a year where Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen takes the box-office crown, we sorely needed someone to show Michael Bay how you roll with eye-popping special effects.

Inglourious Basterds
Director: Quentin Tarantino

Malin says: There are certain things we take for granted as hallmarks of a Tarantino movie: snappy, layered dialogue; brilliant, striking visuals; almost cartoonishly exaggerated violence. Inglourious Basterds does not disappoint on any of those fronts. Tarantino is also a director who knows how to get terrific performances from his actors: Brad Pitt and Christoph Waltz steal the show, but there’s not a false note in the cast. And yet, the story seems less developed than usual. Ranked against his other full-length features, Basterds would be near the bottom–which still leaves it ahead of most of the rest of Hollywood.

So there you have it. There were more films we wanted to put in here. Jakebe loves Taken more than anyone reasonably should. And none of even saw The Hurt Locker, but we hear good things. We’re sure you’ve got your favorites, so go ahead and leave us a comment ranting about how we snubbed The Proposal.

There’s no explanation about what ended the world in The Road, because believe it or not, it’s not necessary. In fact, knowing the particulars hurts the story. Instead of focusing on this spare, beautiful tale you’d be wondering about the particulars; the one big question would lead to lots of little questions that would rabbit-trail away from the entire point. Being the apocalyptophile that I am, logically I can understand this, but emotionally it drives me crazy.

It also drives me crazy how few people actually know about this movie or the book it was based on. It’s, simply put, the best PA novel I’ve ever read. It’s a strange thing for me to say that about a book that so consciously focuses away from the catastrophe itself, and only uses its aftermath only as a skeleton on which to hang the scenario. McCarthy did such a wonderful job crafting this harrowing, dead world out of lean and hungry language, that you buy the scenario without stopping to think about what caused it. You only know that what happened came suddenly, and that the destruction was total. Almost no animals survived. All the trees and plants are dead. And what’s left of humanity has resorted to brutality and cannibalism to stay alive.

Through this hellish wasteland walks a Man (Mortensen) and a Boy (McPhee-Smith), a father and son, “each,” as McCarthy writes, “the other’s world entire.” The Man is dying. Before he goes, however, he wants to make sure that his son is in the best possible place to survive. So they head south from where they were, towards the coast. The Man has no idea what to expect when he gets there, he only hopes that it’s better than where they are. While they’re travelling, they have to forage for food and supplies as they go, brave the bitter, constant cold, and hide themselves from savages and thieves.

Of course, the journey is the most important thing. The Man and the Boy teach each other different lessons about what it means to be a human being and survive the unthinkable. The Man, who has nothing left for himself, gives everything he can to the Boy, hoping to preserve something in him that makes survival worth it. The Boy, who’s known no other world besides this one, has to remind the Man constantly what it is he’s trying to preserve; through shock, or grief, or simply the wearying effect of being constantly on the brink of death, he’s lost it. The Man talks about “carrying the fire,” but the Boy has to keep asking him whether they still have it; it’s not always clear by the way the Man acts.

The book pulls you into its mood, its bare-boned language, its despair and misery and ultimate hope completely. McCarthy is a hell of a writer, and I see why he inspires such passion in his fans. It’s equally obvious that John Hillcoat is among their number, because he aims for as faithful an adaptation as he can make.

Like most novels, The Road isn’t easy to turn into a film. It’s almost impossible to best the scene you get from McCarthy’s language, but Hillcoat gives it his best shot. The result isn’t as bleak and hopeless as the book, but it puts across the devastated world quite well. Mortensen is amazing as a man whose fatherly love is taken to such an extreme; his persistent grief is heartbreaking. You can’t even blame him for being such a snarling dick to anyone who so much looks at his son. If something were to happen to the boy, then his life would literally have no purpose.

The film does a great job of highlighting McCarthy’s ultimately optimistic existential themes; the Man’s “fire” is his son, while the Boy’s “fire” is simply spreading compassion wherever he can. The Man does some pretty awful things for the sake of the Boy, and throughout the movie you see him pushing back when he can’t abide them any more. One of the final scenes, when the Man and Boy argue about what to do with a Thief who’s stolen their things, is one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen.

The Road, I firmly believe, is meant to be taken as a dual experience. The film reinforces and clarifies the novel, while the novel takes the film and grounds it, pushes the story into territory the film can only hint at. If you’re going to see the movie (and I emphatically recommend you do), you’ll get something out of it, but you’ll get much more if your read the book as well.

Even if his reputation didn’t precede him, or you didn’t get an inkling from the insane advertising blitz for the movie, you know what you’re in for with 2012 about ten minutes in. A fresh-faced scientist named Adrian Helmsley (Ejiofor) is discussing a disturbing development with an Indian colleague, one that means nothing less than the end of the world as we know it. There are these tiny, elementary particles called neutrinos, you see, that bombard the planet all the time, every day. The human body is hit with 50 trillion of them from sunup to sundown. They’re part of the solar package, along with life-giving warmth and light. Yet those harmless little neutrinos are going to be the death of us all! Why, do you ask?

“The neutrinos are mutating,” says the Indian scientist. “And as a result they’re microwaving the planet from the inside.”

Two things immediately came to mind as soon as I heard this line. One, how do neutrinos pass through us and the earth’s crust without microwaving us like giant, fleshy/dirty bags of popcorn, too? And two, maybe we’re not talking about neutrinos, but *Neutrinos*, and I’m really watching a live-action remake of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Because seriously, that would be awesome.

Alas, there was no such luck! Instead, we get another two hours and change of spectacular special effects, even more spectacular junk science, and billions upon billions of people dying — panicked, or nobly meeting their fate, or simply as debris in the background, indistinguishable from the hundreds of other bits of glass and steel collapsing in such a grand scale. In between the apocalyptic set pieces, characters muse about their lives or say goodbyes or frantically race to a succession of safe places before they too are blown up or deluged. It all aims for a kind of gravity so shallow it could only be the designs of a summer blockbuster; like the actors, this movie feels curiously out of place.

Remember when John Cusack was in good movies, like High Fidelity and Say Anything? And poor Chiwetel Ejiofor, who’s gone from instant classics like Serenity and Children of Men to this. Even John Billingsley (Star Trek: Enterprise, The Nine, True Blood) cashes in some of his geek cred here, forced to say lines like “Here we are, with all of our crazy machines, and we couldn’t see what the Mayans could thousands of years ago.” You’re torn between laughing at the horrible dialogue, and feeling genuinely sorry for all of the quality actors who got suckered into trying to sell it.

But Shakespearean wit is not the reason we see this kind of movie — spectacle fills that purpose. And to be fair, 2012 delivers the goods here. The 10.8 earthquake (yes, that’s right — Emmerich won’t be outdone by some mere TV movie) that destroys Los Angeles is genuinely impressive, even if it’s ludicrous that John Cusack can outdrive the very ground under his wheels crumbling into the ocean. So is the Yellowstone supervolcano, which apocalypto-naut Charlie Frost (Woody Harrelson, who’s the only guy obviously having fun) dutifully covers for his fellow survivalist, right to the fiery end. Heck, even the tidal waves are pretty neat, even if tsunamis aren’t nearly as impressive as explosions as a general rule.

Between the apocalyptic set pieces, the ham-fisted dialogue, noble deaths of secondary characters, and scene after scene of parents and children saying goodbye to one another are enough to keep us at least mildly engaged, if not always entertained. There’s a recurring theme here, of the older generations making peace with their situation, getting their affairs in order as much as they can, and then stoically looking at the oncoming destruction with the awe and wonder in which we all face our death. Some folks actually manage to make these affecting scenes. Others, and I’m calling you out here President Danny Glover, simply look overwhelmed by all the effects.

There are worse ways to spend two hours and some change than 2012, but there are also much better, more realistic (and even more fun) ways to look at the apocalypse. If you’re looking for a funny world’s end, I’d recommend Zombieland. If you’re looking for something that actually might hit the gravity 2012 aims for, you might want to wait for The Road. Hell, if you’re looking for something as cartoonish and ‘dark’ as this movie, you’d be better served by 9. If you’re looking for the perfect storm of top-notch special effects, a threadbare plot, and big name actors with little to do beyond reacting to a greenscreen — basically any old summer blockbuster — than this is the movie for you!

Maybe it’s because his universes inspire such rabid fanaticism from people who actually know how to tell a story. Star Wars, especially, has benefited from the collaborative efforts of dozens of people who wanted to dig through the awkward Lucas crap and lift the space opera to its highest potential. The expanded universe has blossomed into an immensely rich storytelling opportunity, something that novelists and comic writers have been taking advantage of for years. Haven’t even heard of the Star Wars EU comics? Well, here, brother-geek, let me enlighten you.

Dark Horse comics got the rights to the Star Wars franchise in comic book form some time ago, and they’ve been pumping out solid stories ever since. There’s an incredibly large back catalogue of titles covering so many different eras of the universe, but a lot of those are only for the super-fans…you know, the dorks who can recite the entire military history of the Republic, or exactly which lightsaber crystal does what. (Full disclosure: I’m not one of those people, I promise.) For the more casual fan, like you and me, here are a few suggestions if you want to see what the Star Wars universe can be when guided by capable hands.

Let’s start with a setting you’re likely to be familiar with: the Old Republic. Bioware’s “Knights of the Old Republic” games are hugely successful, so naturally you’re going to want to explore that setting a bit. The comic starts a year or so before the game and follows a Jedi padawan, Zayne Carrick, as he tries to clear his name of a crime he didn’t commit. What’s the crime? Nothing less than killing his fellow Jedi students in cold blood. Now he’s public enemy number one to both the Jedi and the Empire, with only a Snivvian crime-lord for support. On the bright side, he’s technically now the valedictorian for his class.

The plot sounds pretty heavy, and Zayne meets a huge cast of characters through his trials and travels. Despite the sometimes complex narrative, the tone remains surprisingly light; Zayne’s a screw-up of the highest caliber, his Snivvian friend is an amusingly amoral street rat, and the rest of his crew have their own issues that bounce off each other in interesting ways. Overall the writer, John Jackson Miller, balances classic adventure with deeper, character-based story arcs really well. There are eight graphic novels in the series so far, including the Vector crossover event, and each novel pulls the action along to a surprisingly satisfying conclusion. Even after the first arching story is completed, there are enough loose ends that you’ll still want to see where Miller is going with the cast.

Stretching across the timeline is a totally different beast. Star Wars: Legacy explores the galaxy after the movies, about 140 years into the ‘future’. It follows Luke’s progeny, Cade Skywalker, through a galaxy that’s scarcely recognizable. The Sith are now an army instead of a duo of puppeteers pulling the strings of a politically powerful force. The Empire, once allied with the Sith, are now the galaxy’s last defense against complete domination. And what’s more, they have their own army of Force users — Imperial Knights with red battle armor and silver lightsabers. The few Jedi that are left hide and wait for the best opportunity to strike, and extra-dimensional aliens called the Yuuzhan Vong try to atone for the havoc they’ve wrought on the galaxy decades earlier. There are a lot of moving pieces to this story, and alliances, twists and reveals are pretty much common place.

What’s impressive about Legacy isn’t the way they’ve integrated the lore from the movies, the ensuing novels, Dark Horse’s other comics and all the other volumes of geek-myth out there seamlessly…even though that’s pretty neat. It’s the fact that they’ve taken a property almost aggressively marketed to children and turned into something adult. Cade, our protagonist for this setting, is an unrepentant asshole. He spurns both Light and Dark sides for his own path; it almost feels like his destiny is to run away from his family name. The Sith, now in charge of the galaxy without the help of the Empire, publically commit genocide and racial slavery. The Jedi and Imperial Knights are supposedly two sides of the same coin, but can barely be in the same room together. It’s fairly intense stuff, a big leap away from the classic heroes-and-villains space fables you’ve come to expect.

There are six graphic novels in the setting (including Vector), each one of them snappy action, twisty plots, and complex character studies. You might have a hard time rooting for anyone here; sometimes the only things that make the protagonists likable are the facts that there are even worse people out there doing some incredibly heinous things. Legacy strikes me as Star Wars through the lens of cyberpunk noir. If you ask me, it looks pretty damned good that way.

The best of the bunch is Dark Times. Set right after the issuance of Order 66 (in which most of the Jedi are slain), this comic is essentially the Battlestar Galactica of Star Wars. It follows a Jedi on the run from the Imperials with a comrade he served with during an unsuccessful rebellion as they simply try to survive. Most of the stories involve the heroes making a choice between a bad situation and an even worse one, and explores how good people deal with sacrificing their morals for the sake of survival. Even Darth Vader gets makes an appearance or two, reflecting on his choices and the path they’ve led him down.

Besides it’s characteristically bleak tone, it also boasts a near all-alien cast, which is a rarity in Star Wars fiction. You don’t get to see the universe from outside the lens of the dominant species, even if the minority status of most of the cast doesn’t come up that often. Still, haven’t you always wanted a Star Wars series that focused on something other than lame Ewoks or those damned Skywalkers? Well, here you go.

Dark Times is quite possibly the best thing I’ve seen in Star Wars, and the prime example of what it can be. It transcends the silly, Lucas-borne childishness and becomes a thoughtul, excitingly adult meditation on the toll loss and desperation takes on someone. It doesn’t shy away from the full weight of its material. Unfortunately, it’s one of the second-tier settings in the universe, so there are only three graphic novels so far, including the Vector crossover event that spans all time periods being explored right now. If there’s one complaint I have to make, it’s that there’s not enough of this series at all.

So there you have it. If your entire experience of Star Wars comprises the movies, there’s a lot you’re missing out on. Whether it’s the classic adventure of Knights of the Old Republic, the gritty dark future-punk of Legacy, or the heavy moral fable of Dark Times, there’s great storytelling for every sensibility.

Well, you’re in luck: I have a suggestion or two that might be just the thing for those long, boring stretches of quality time with the family or that friend who’s collected the entire catalog of Rabbit Valley, Sofawolf Books and Bad Dog Press. Even if you’re not in a bind with presents or alternative furry entertainment that’s acceptable in mixed company, these books are pretty awesome and you should read them anyway. They’re all books that just happen to have furry characters for reasons other than aesthetics. Well, for the most part.

We’ll start out with the chickiest of the three — Sight Hound by Pam Houston. It’s a novel that plays out like a literary duet between a woman, Rae, and her Irish wolfhound, Dante. Rae recounts the trials of her relationships and life in general, laying bare the problems that keep her unhappy, and Dante is there to provide the counter-point, lessons that would benefit Rae if she would just listen. These two narratives are supported by a chorus of side characters, each with their own perspectives on what’s going on. There’s Rose, another dog, Sam the cat, two veterinarians and Howard, a nervous, yet surprisingly mature actor. These voices all rise and fade beautifully thanks to Houston’s deft writing. Each perspective fleshes out not only the character, but the world they inhabit, the narrative and themes.

Sight Hound is a nice bit of light reading. Though the book deals with heavy things like loss, death and depression, it somehow manages to keep an optimistic and gentle tone. It illustrates how a patchwork community can be formed from a host of broken people, and how these people can come to rely on each other in spite of their shortcomings. The going isn’t always easy — the characters are as frustrated with each other as they are in love — but with the right amount of understanding and commitment, the family that forms is worth all the trouble it causes. It’s the perfect thing for remembering that the people you’re with, whether it’s the family you grew up with or the one you’ve created yourself, enrich and shape you just as much as they drive you crazy.

The Bear Went Over the Mountain is a different beast entirely. It’s billed as a “fairy tale for grownups,” and it certainly has that feel, but it’s also a gentle satire of the book publishing industry, Hollywood, and the nature of fame. Arthur Bramhall, an English professor and struggling writer, writes his first good novel, and hides the manuscript under a tree for safe keeping while he celebrates with a few friends. A bear finds it, reads it and likes it, then steals it, hoping to trade it in for some food. He steals a suit and tie, gives himself a name (Hal Jam, from some of his favorite food), and the story takes off from there. Arthur and Hal, throughout the course of the book, trade places, slowly subsuming themselves into their adopted societies.

You get the sense that this novel is going for something pointed, but it never quite gets there. The satire remains soft and it really removes the teeth from what Kotzwinkle is trying to say. He does a pretty good job of keeping the characters (even Hal) relatable, and you sympathize with their desperation even when you’re shaking your head at what it drives them to do. I got the feeling that I was supposed to laugh along at these people, but they were far more earnest than they were funny, so the trouble they got into just made me feel sorry for them. The tone doesn’t quite strike the balance it wants, but it’s a pretty enjoyable read nonetheless. And hey, if you like bears, you really can’t go wrong. You’d be sold on the cover alone.

If you like your novels with a lot more punch, then Gun, with Occasional Music by Jonathan Lethem is the book for you. Lethem won the National Book Award for the detective novel Motherless Brooklyn, but before he rose to literary prominence he cut his teeth on truly ambitious, truly strange post-modern sci-fi. Gun is his debut novel, and it’s one of the best dystopian noir mash-ups I’ve ever read.

The book follows a detective named Conrad Metcalf, who’s working the case of a man who believes he’s been framed for murder. Of course, the deeper he gets into the mystery, the more people work against him to solve it. One of those people, as it so happens, is a smartly-dressed evolved kangaroo named Joey Castle.

The novel is full of very unique dystopian ideas: technology has created an intrusive, controlling government, but not in the way you think. There’s a karmic account that’s used to keep track of your criminality, and news is ominous music about war rather than facts. There’s also hyper-intelligent, jaded talking babies and evolved animals every bit as neurotic and dangerous as the rest of humanity. The people get worse as the technology gets better, and Conrad finds himself an increasingly anachronistic stereotype in a world that has moved on to bigger ways of doing business without him. It’s fascinating to watch him drown in the chaos of the world around him just as much as it’s fun to imagine the vivid world that Lethem’s created. The ending is particularly neat, as Lethem goes further with the concept than you might suspect.

If you’re looking for a good companion novel, go with Lethem’s second, Amnesia Moon. It’s a buffet of post-apocalyptic goodness that’s somehow even more surreal. No furries, though, unless you count a fur-covered girl. And I don’t.

So, there you have it: a few books that will scratch that furry itch for you or a literary friend who’s looking for something a little different. Back before the fandom really took off, kids, this is how we did it back in the 90s.