Attack of the Vampire Santas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the town, not a creature was stirring, for they were all dead. The vampire hordes had spread out among them, clad in white beards and red cap and clothes, passing themselves off as Santas, feasting on their blood. That's what soulless, bloodsucking vampires do, after all. They don't sparkle or anything.

While the vampires were having their Christmas Eve feast, in the skies up above, there was a sleigh pulled by nine flying reindeer. And at the helm of the sleigh was someone else dressed in white, a fat elf-man sometimes known as Saint Nick. He wondered as he flew over the land why his writer couldn't think of a rhyme for his Christmas parody, and made a note to leave coal in the writer's stocking.

And so it was that Saint Nick (Santa to you) descended upon the town, and made his way down through a chimney, his first stop here tonight, one of a list of 2.5 billion kids. Santa opened a magic portal through the chimney, materializing in the fireplace (this is how a three hundred pound 1306 year old man with a gut can fit through small spaces). What greeted his eyes when he stepped into the room horrified him.  Yes, it was a vampire in a Santa costume, feasting on the blood of the family living there. The vampire looked up at Santa, bared his fangs, blood dripping off his bearded chin.

Santa, being an immortal magic being, had come across these bloodsuckers before. And being always prepared, Santa reached behind his back for the wooden stake hidden away in his belt (what did I tell you about being prepared?) "Ho ho ho," the fat elf man said with a hearty laugh, buying himself enough time to draw the vampire into his trap. "You've been a very bad, bad boy," he told his quarry.

"I'm just one of many of my kind to come to this town this night, using your look, old man," the vampire remarked, and advanced on the fat elf-man, who seemingly out of nowhere, plunged the stake into the vampire's heart. The fiend gasped, and then faded into ash, a state of being that all vampires should be in (especially sparkly ones).

Santa looked around at the deceased, shook his head with an expression of grief and anger, and swore he would avenge them. And so Santa went out into the town, finding the rest of the vampire horde in the midst of their feast, each of them appropriating his garb, each butchering their prey. (I told you they were soulless bloodsucking monsters!) On that night, Santa was no longer the jolly old elf. He was the avenging warrior, slaughtering the undead plague of vampires with a vengeance that would impress even the most ardent vampire hunters.

An avenging warrior...  with nine flying reindeer.

 Well, I've just gone and told myself a Christmas horror story. Who'd have thought?

Yes, it's that time of year again. Christmas Eve, as of this writing, and I thought I'd do my annual Christmas blog with some pictures for the occasion, not to mention the odd video link...

The Muppets Ring The Bells

Editorial cartoonists get busy with Christmas as their theme for their work, and this year, it's no different. Some are political in their leanings; others poke fun at the holiday, the notion of Santa, or the shopping. And from time to time, there are the poignant ones. I've collected quite a few for your enjoyment....

If you're a Calvin & Hobbes fan, you'll appreciate this tribute to the tune of Winter Wonderland.

And I've got a link here for the Frederick Forsyth short story The Shepherd. It's a radio broadcast the CBC has been doing for over twenty years each Christmas, and I only heard it for the first time last night. I think you'll enjoy a rather unusual Christmas ghost story, so when you've got a spare half hour, give it a listen.

I know, at least some of these toons have you wondering how much coal I'm getting in my stocking. The answer: I'll be cornering the world market on the coal supply.

If I wasn't already in for it, that last pic would guarantee that I'll get coal in the stocking....

Well, I'll close out now with two editorial cartoons that sum up the true meaning of the Christmas season, and do so in a far more eloquent way then I'd be capable of. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and watch out for the vampire Santas.

An Impossible Mission: Getting Tom Cruise To Not Be Tom Cruise

Some months ago, settling in for another film, I happened to see a trailer start up with footage of Moscow, followed promptly thereafter by an explosion at the Kremlin. What unfolded thereafter was, of course, flashes of the new Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol, the latest of these preposterous films if you keep track of them as they go by. One thought that went through my mind by the end of the trailer was "Well, I guess I can't write a sub-plot about the Kremlin getting blown up in a future book now, can I?"

This is the fourth movie in the series to follow the larger then life exploits of Ethan Hunt, an operative in the IMF unit, an semi-autonomous division of the CIA. Hunt, of course, is played by Tom Cruise, who's desperate to revive his box office mojo and make himself look good in the process (the latter is more important to him, by the way). It seems having couch-jumping meltdowns and antagonizing your audience by pushing your odd beliefs tends to backfire in the long run.

 I said preposterous earlier in describing these films, and that's not really a bad thing. Of the four films, each has their positive points (I vastly prefer the second in the series, for a terrific villain and an outstanding leading lady). The films are dizzying action set pieces with their own unique style, directed by four different directors who have each made their mark on the franchise. The problem, in a manner of speaking, is the star.

The new film starts out with the assassination of an IMF operative (Josh Holloway, from the much missed Lost) and a rescue of Hunt (with a source) from a Russian prison. Superimposed against this is the aforementioned explosion at the Kremlin, an act blamed by the Russians on Hunt and his team. The IMF is officially disbanded, though the director (Tom Wilkinson in a much too brief appearance) gives Hunt orders to hunt down the true guilty party. He's paired with Jane Carter (Paula Patton), Benji Dunn (a returning Simon Pegg) and William Brandt (Jeremy Renner) to chase down the truth, a mission that will bring them across the world. Their quarry, as they learn, is one Kurt Hendricks (Michael Nyqvist), who plans to start a nuclear war.

The film runs along at breakneck speed, with multiple action sequences. The prison breakout in Russia and the explosion at the Kremlin kick things off, and the later scenes take place in Dubai and Mumbai (with some breathtaking sequences at the Burj Khalifa skyscraper) with the fate of the planet at stake. Director Bill Bird, who's primarily done animated work before, does exceptionally well managing the action, as unbelievable as it may seem at times. Among his cast, Nyqvist is a well cast villain, Pegg is funny as usual (he gets some of the best lines) and Renner shows us why he's a more interesting, compelling actor. This is the guy who made a strong impression in The Hurt Locker, and his cameo in Thor will lead into his appearance in next year's The Avengers. He comes across as gritty, not polished, the sort of agent who just wants to get on with the job, rather then flash a toothy grin and show off.

This, of course, brings us to what's wrong with the film, and as I've already indicated, it's the leading actor. Tom Cruise has, in the past been a big name. In more recent years, he's been overshadowed by his own eccentricities. In both instances, however, he's never shown the ability to step out of himself, to inhabit the role. Whatever film he appears in, the audience is constantly reminded there's Tom Cruise again. Other actors can wrap themselves up in their role, and you find yourself watching the character, not the actor. Cruise seems incapable of doing this, and his persona as a person becomes very, very distracting.

It doesn't help that every shot of him in this film seems catered to make him look good. It's as though he had to be consulted to make sure he'd be seen in the most positive way in each frame. In past Mission Impossible films, when his character has been hurt, even his cuts and bruises are rendered to look sexy. This is the mark of extreme vanity. And when you combine that kind of vanity and the fact that he's not a good actor, it detracts from the film.

I thought about a recent Cruise film that I also liked despite the presence of the leading man. In Valkyrie, though he took steps to look different (the eye patch was essential for that role), he still proved distracting, because he wasn't inhabiting the role. And to make things worse, he'd surrounded himself with an outstanding cast that outdid him at every turn. The same thing gets repeated here; Renner and Nyqvist are much better actors, and thus the limitations of Cruise become that more obvious.

What will the future hold for this franchise? I would think it's better for all said if Cruise finally gave up. He's been doing this character for fifteen years now, and his personal vanity grates on the nerves. Renner's Brandt points towards where the franchise might go. I found him a more interesting character. Bird did a satisfying job with the director's mantle, and I'd like to see more out of him in live action in the future.

Maybe Tom can try to revive other films in his resume. I've heard there's word of a follow up to Top Gun (I've never seen more then a few bits and pieces of that film, actually). And I wouldn't mind seeing a film called A Few Bad Men. Think of it as a mash-up with U.S. Marshals. The disgraced former marine colonel Jessup played by Jack Nicholson escapes from prison, kills that snot-nosed JAG lawyer (Mr. Cruise, of course) who ruined his life (in the first twenty minutes; we can't have too much of the murder victim, after all). He then goes on the run from a cranky marshal (Tommy Lee Jones) and his team.

"You can't handle the truth! Now give me my Oscar!"

Admit it. You'd love to see that film.