Review: Titans

I really liked Titans. It’s got a great cast, coherent arcs for most of the characters, a brutally violent and dark world with a surprisingly emotional heart, and a good deal of the relationship dynamics that I’ve always enjoyed in young superhero team-ups without the degree of camp found in the Arrowverse collection of shows (the omnipresent Greg Berlanti is an executive producer for the various shows falling under the Arrowverse, as well as for Titans).

The core composition of the Titans in this incarnation ultimately consists of Dick Grayson’s Robin (played by Brenton Thwaites), Raven (Teagan Croft), Starfire (Anna Diop), and Beast Boy (Ryan Potter)–though all but Dick, who is haunted by his history as the Dark Knight’s sidekick, are basically only known by their civilian names, with but brief allusions to their eventual aliases. These four are occasionally joined by Hawk and Dove (Alan Ritchson and Minka Kelly), Wonder Girl (Conor Leslie), and Robin 2.0, Jason Todd (Curran Walters). I loved basically every character and thought that each actor did an impressive job with what they were given.

Each version of Dick Grayson is my favorite until the next version I encounter, so Thwaites’s turn as the character is currently at the top of my list of incarnations, but he might actually stay there. Dick’s so haunted by his past, by what he did as Robin, by how his gradual turn to greater violence tarnished what his alias was supposed to stand for. So much of his time is spent hating what Batman did to him, but in the end, I was left with the impression that, for all Batman’s faults, no one was more to blame for what Robin became than Dick himself. Midway through the show, Dick finally makes the decision to fully reject his former identity, setting the stage for an eventual Nightwing getup in a future season, I imagine.

Raven, here just preteen Rachel Roth, actually kicks the narrative off. Rachel runs away from home after someone kills her apparent mother and attempts to abduct her; in so doing, she flexes her buried dark powers. Rachel finds herself hunted by two factions: those who wish to destroy her, and those who wish to use her to release her demonic, inter-dimensional father. To the show’s credit, the loyalties of those pursuing her were often mysterious, leading to some fun surprises without ever leaving me with the feeling that the narrative unfairly withheld information. Rachel is the gravitational force in the narrative that pulls the other heroes together. She is understandably angsty, fearing the darkness inside her and obviously traumatized by the events that start off the season. She first goes to Dick because of a recurrent vision, and she quickly depends on him, seeing in him a sort of mentor similarly dealing with a dark internal impulse, even though Dick wants nothing more than to walk away. (The relationship reminded me in many ways of that between Wolverine and Rogue in 2000’s X-Men film adaptation.)

Anna Diop plays an amnesiac Starfire, operating under the human name of Korey Anders. She comes to after an apparently violent car chase, under fire from gunmen, with a few obscure clues to her background. For most of the season, she does not know her mission or her true identity as an extraterrestrial, but she is able to quickly discover that her purpose had something to do with tracking Raven down. Korey is a fun counterpart to Dick; both are incredibly driven, clever detectives, and absolutely brutal fighters, but Dick is typically dour while Korey seems to mostly be having a blast. She has fun when she fights, coming across as cheerily psychotic. She also kills–a lot. That’s a little unsettling at first, until it sort of becomes a joke. Dick has Batman’s code and practically begs Korey to restrain herself, most of the time. She’s not the naive, fish-out-of-water character I’m used to, but there’s some shared DNA with past versions, scrambled to fit the darker, more “mature” tone of Titans.

Beast Boy–Garfield Logan–is the most tangentially connected to the characters, but he provides a lot of the soul. He’s sweet and funny and caring, and while he has a traumatic past as well, he’s had years of quiet existence with a family of sorts (the introduction of the Doom Patrol was as clear a backdoor pilot as I’ve ever seen, so it’s no surprise that they’re getting their own spin-off series). He also has an unsettling arc in which he channels the more lethal elements of his shape-shifting powers, though his natural lightness and cheer mostly allow him to cope. Mostly.

Hawk and Dove have an interesting interconnected past with Robin, and a later episode more fully fleshes out their backgrounds. I’ve never really cared for Hawk and Dove, nor have I given the characters much of a chance, but I liked them here. They’re rough-and-tumble street-level vigilantes who are, somewhat ironically, perhaps the most connected to the larger universe of superheroes outside of Robin and Wonder Girl. Wonder Girl is retired, now a photojournalist who improves the world through activism and investigative reporting; as Donna Troy, she’s an important mentor figure to Dick, and she proves to be a valuable ally toward the end (she also makes clear that the Justice League exists–or existed–in this universe).

Finally, Jason Todd is…incredible. He’s a shitty little punk always itching for a fight. He’s not nearly as clever or educated as Dick, he doesn’t have the natural athleticism and acrobatic ability of the former aerialist, and he looks like he’s a week overdue for a bath. But he’s scrappy and can pack a punch. Recruited by Batman after attempting to steal the tires off the Batmobile, he’s having the time of his life. He loves what Batman’s given him, and he’s initially awed to meet the original Robin, but his hero-worship ends quickly enough. He’s quite willing to break the rules, drinking underage and getting in bar fights and beating up cops for fun and petty revenge. He’s a total asshole, and I love him. I now fully understand Tumblr-culture’s “trash son” meme. He’s my trash son. Jason Todd is just having the fucking time of his life, and he’s loving every minute of it.

On Jason Todd, executive producer Greg Walker said in an IGN interview:

What I really love about [Jason] as a character is the unbridled sense of self that he has–there’s a lack of . . . maybe self-awareness, but for sure self-consciousness in terms of how he comports himself and how he moves through the world . . . . He’s completely seemingly unaffected by darkness – he kind of embraces it or walks right through it. He’s a breath of fresh air and that’s what I love about him, he’s got a punk rock, no-holds-barred attitude that’s massively unburdened. There’s a lot of energy that comes with that.

To that I say: yes. Exactly. All that. 100%. I love Jason Todd. This is a remarkable turnaround for me; prior to this, I mostly knew him as the Robin who was killed, or peripherally, as the Red Hood. He was uninteresting or a non-presence to me. And now, he’s just the coolest. “I kick ass with Batman and I fucking love it.” Yes you do, Jason Todd, and good for you.

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Ahem. My point is, the characters are well-acted and well-written, and you’ll probably fall in love with at least one of them–especially if you can give the show room to do its own thing, rather than merely adapting comics arcs or characterizations previously established in the Teen Titans or Young Justice cartoons.

There are villains, too, but the show so far is really more about the heroes. The villains are obstacles, not so much compelling on their own. Even the updated Nuclear Family (in this version, brainwashed assassins) still takes a backseat to the heroes. I hope future seasons introduce more interesting antagonists to the heroes, but I’m glad that this origin story gives the audience plenty of time to get to know the new versions of these heroic characters.

The show is rather violent and bloody. I wouldn’t mind that toned down a little bit. There’s a scene in the first episode, after a woman is shot, where the camera lingers on her bullet-hollowed forehead as it bleeds on the floor, and I was annoyed by the fixation, the silent declaration that this is the MATURE version of the Titans. But a lot of the violence just drives home how brutal the vigilante lifestyle really is, the lengths a hero must go to. I think this is clearest in Hawk’s backstory: there’s something a little broken about these characters, some hurt that they channel into violence against others. If they didn’t act from a cause, from some belief in upholding justice, they’d probably all turn to petty crime or militarism. That said, I cannot emphasize enough that there’s some humor and a lot of heart to the show. It’s a story about found family and emotional healing. It still feels like a Berlanti production about young-adult superheroes.

Executive producer Akiva Goldman told Deadline Hollywood, “We wanted to arrive at a tone that wasn’t as welcoming as some of the DC shows have been, nor as nihilistic as some of the films have been.” I think that they more or less hit that balance. It’s not as grim-dark as the worst excesses of the DCEU, but it’s not a campy teen soap opera like the Arrowverse shows. Without getting into spoilers, I will say that the show wavers toward grim-dark in the season finale. While I’m sure we’ll see a quick reversal of fortune in the next season, it nonetheless felt like a tonal shift with an unnecessary cliffhanger, leaving the central narrative of the entire season unresolved. Cliffhangers are fine, but it would have been nice to see this first act actually reach a conclusion. If nothing else, the finale highlights what a careful balancing act the intended tone of this show can be.

Overall, though, this was consistently enjoyable to watch. If you skipped over this first season, give DC Universe a trial run. Titans is easy–and fun–to binge.

DC Universe, Take Two

It’s stupidly quick how soon I have another take on DC Universe. I don’t want to keep talking about it, and this blog will never, ever be comics-focused, but I do feel that I have to update my initial impression.

That’s because I actually downloaded the Android app on my tablet today. DC Universe would appear to be developed around the app first; the website version simply feels inferior. Searching, browsing, and interacting with comics was easier. The searching actually worked better! It felt more intuitive when following characters or series down rabbit holes into new discoveries. Some comics were suggested that I simply did not find through the website.

And My DC actually works now, tracking what I read and watched (even historic stuff). Downloading comics was painless, and it was easy to delete them when done to free up space (while still preserving them in my reading history). I had no issues with reader stability, and the panel view and autoplay feature enabled me to read a comic issue while at the gym, even.

Maybe there’s been an update since my first impressions? But I’d still emphasize that using the app really shows the value of DC Universe and makes its digital comics reading experience a rewarding one.

Review: Infinity War

Avengers: Infinity War declares a firm commitment by Marvel to the same old entertaining bullshit.

I enjoyed myself for most of the film. Our many, many superheroes are iconic figures played by A-level talents who have all had at least a couple attempts now to hone their performances in their respective roles. Meanwhile, the supporting, non-super-heroic cast is sprawling, such that, while I detected no standout bad (or good) performance, this may have more to do with the relative lack of screen time of any specific character. The dialogue is great, full of that predictably witty and sarcastic Marvel formula. No matter how serious the movie gets, we have a lot of really fun banter, especially from post-Ragnarok Thor and the Guardians of the Galaxy (some of my favorite lines are when Mantis, attempting to sound serious, proudly announces that the Guardians are about “kicking names and taking ass,” and when Thor at another point in the film responds heroically to a threat of being killed by saying that it’ll only happen if he dies). And a very special treat for the first third or so of the movie, before everything becomes so seriously world-ending, is that film score, visuals, and dialogue combine to give little tastes of the respective mood/feel of each superhero franchise. Our first glimpse of the Guardians, for instance, is delightfully refreshing and even a little silly–down to the bright white location card that pops onscreen, pointlessly declaring that we are in “SPACE.”

The Russo brothers-helmed film has a lot of pulse-pounding excitement, some surprises (including one minor jump scare), and plenty of tension to keep one’s eyes glued to the screen from start to finish. We have yet another Marvel movie here in the new trend of actually defining an interesting and engaging villain; in fact, the whole film revolves around giant-jawed, purple-skinned Thanos (sympathetically portrayed by Josh Brolin) in his quest to collect all the Infinity Stones to “save” life in the universe by cutting it in half. It’s a sociopath’s superheroism, and Thanos truly believes in the rightness of his cause. His hulking brute strength combined with a crafty wit and ferocious dedication to a twisted, apocalyptic ideology remind me, of all things, of Tom Hardy’s turn as Bane in The Dark Knight Rises.

It’s a slick production with a good deal of pathos, and yet the end left me feeling very little more than minor annoyance and reflected all of my worst thoughts about this franchise.


Big spoilers follow. If you haven’t seen the movie yet, I hope you’ll come back to read the second part after you have, as I have some strong thoughts about the ending and about the film’s apparent central theme.


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By the end of the film, we see Thanos succeed. Half of the universe’s population is wiped out, at random. This includes a good deal of Marvel heroes. By my count, Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Black Widow, Bruce Banner (with a Hulk too angry or embarrassed to come out anymore), War Machine, and Rocket the Raccoon of all people are the ones who come out alive (Hawkeye and Ant-Man accepted house arrest after the Civil War fallout, we are told, so we don’t know what happened to them). We lose all the other heroes. This could be a darkly powerful ending, but with so many character deaths and in such a magic way, it is all too obvious that those deaths are meaningless. They will be reset. There’s plenty of evidence to support this.

Exhibit A: Dr. Strange knows that Thanos can never have the Time Stone. He tells Tony that he’ll let anyone die rather than hand the Time Stone over. When Thanos prepares to kill Stark, Dr. Strange relents and hands the Time Stone over. He later tells Stark that this was the only way, before being eradicated from existence. We know that Strange saw millions of futures, and there was only one in which they succeeded against Thanos. This strongly suggests that Strange knew the only desperate way to defeat Thanos was to let him win for now. (We also know that Stark and Thanos share some sort of mental connection, some sort of knowing, and so Iron Man could be critical to finally defeating Thanos.) The Time Stone can reverse events that have already happened and change the outcome; altogether, the Infinity Stones have a lot of strange magical properties. It would not be surprising if there was a way to reverse even mass-scale outcomes.

Exhibit B: Peter Parker is one of the ones who are killed by Thanos’s death wish. This was the one death in the finale that truly moved my wife and I–Tom Holland is a great young actor, and his final moments in the film are those of a too-young soldier fearful of death yet determined to be heroic and honorable even in the end. He’s pathetic and sweet and endearing. It’s a death that lingers long enough to kick you in the teeth. Here’s the thing, though: Tom Holland is already coming back for another Spider-Man movie. And we know that the next film starring Peter Parker will mark the beginning of the new phase of Marvel movies. If Peter Parker isn’t dead for good, then it would seem that any other character death is just as reversible.

Exhibit C: While still rather speculative, there should be a Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 around 2020. This despite the fact that all the Guardians but Rocket are dead. I doubt we’ll see a whole new set of Guardians to fill out the final film in a very Star Lord-focused trilogy, so this suggests that they’ll make their way back somehow.

Exhibit D: The surviving characters are mostly the older, iconic film characters whose actors have already been around in way too many movies. Some of these actors, at least, have to be ready to move on. Meanwhile, new fan favorites like Black Panther are killed off. There’s no way that Disney would let T’Challa slink off forever in the five-second ending he had in this film.

In short, the ending just doesn’t feel right, doesn’t give enough dramatic emphasis for the deaths of so many characters (especially since some are still relatively new to the screen), and is contradicted by Marvel’s release schedule. Marvel’s too damn greedy to let audiences believe for more than the end of the film that these characters are dead. And frankly, I think it’s somewhat of an insult to audiences’ intelligences that the filmmakers thought that anyone would be fooled by this for any length of time.

This is the true Marvel bullshit. They want to tell big, dramatic stories with serious consequences–without having to hold to the consequences (hm…having consequences, but…without the consequences?). Comic book events, including big crossover stories in the style of Infinity War, of course often have characters die to stir up sales. But this crass drama-generation shouldn’t have been adapted into the films. Every time a character dies and returns later on, it cheapens the use of death in the narrative. Comics need to keep going and constantly have shifts in creative direction, so it is a little more forgivable in that format. But on film, we have only so many titles coming out in a year (even if that number seems to be ever-increasing), and movies have the benefit of being self-sustaining stories. They should be self-sustaining stories, evaluated on their own merits, even if part of a larger arc or franchise. Let this universe, let these films, at least have consequence!

Instead, Infinity War is already obviously just one more link in a larger chain. All the movies inform each other and become dependent upon each other. All the movies just set up the next link in the story. All the movies are fundamentally safe. (This is frustrating to me because nothing about a shared universe requires all stories to be dependent upon each other. It’s a shared universe–other shit can be happening! We can just have small connections; see, for example, Le Guin’s Hainish Cycle.)

I see two major deaths staying permanent in this film: Loki and Gamora. Both are killed not by the power of the Infinity Stones but in key moments earlier in the film. Loki’s death is repeatedly emphasized as likely permanent, and we are given time watching him die and observing his body such that it most certainly does not seem reversible (unlike every other Loki death). Gamora’s death was in exchange for a Soul Stone, and while I could see her return to life being part of how everyone gets out of the current predicament, she dramatically serves as a motivator for Star Lord (and surely will continue to serve as such once he gets re-materialized) and a symbol of the sacrifices that Thanos will make for his cause. (Yes, I’m uncomfortable with Gamora becoming a sentient MacGuffin to motivate male characters and to be bartered for yet another MacGuffin.)

More generally, I also think that the entire Asgardian refugee population is gone for good. Which is really a damn shame and disrupts all that happened in Ragnarok. It’s like how Alien 3 killed off Newt and Hicks in its opening moments, thereby subverting the dramatic impact of Ripley’s development over the course of the previous film (interestingly, the Aliens franchise is explicitly referenced by Spider-Man in this installment). It also means that Heimdall is killed off in the blink of an eye, and characters like Valkyrie and Korg apparently die entirely off-screen, without even a mention in Infinity War. Argh!

Other than that, I suspect that all deaths caused directly by Thanos’s Infinity-Stone-powered final wish will be reversed. Maybe they’re not dead at all, just in another universe now. Maybe the death can be reverted or set back. Maybe there’s some other option to undo what has been done. But that’s what will happen, and I’m fairly certain: there will be an undoing. A lessening, or even cancellation, of the horrible cost.

Not that I want the characters to be dead! But don’t kill off all the characters just to get audiences to hopefully stick around for yet another movie, especially if that death won’t mean anything lasting. Let the movie be its own thing, its own film. This ending means that Infinity War will always be dependent upon the next Avengers film, rather than its own story. It’s not a cliffhanger so much as a colossal failure with resultant mass loss of life that could only be “fixed” if what happens at the end is changed.

I’m not overall opposed to many of the creative choices that were made in this film. I really liked Thanos as a villain, which I wouldn’t have guessed. He’s a sociopath, but he believes that he is morally right, making hard choices in an uncaring universe. He explains mid-film that he once realized his own people were depleting their resources, resulting in inequality and eventual self-destruction without a course correction. He offered to the leaders of his world a random genocide, where citizens are executed at random, across all classes and all backgrounds. The resource load would be eased, and survival of life on his planet would be ensured. But his people rejected his plan, and the doom he foresaw came to pass. Seeing this as his failure to achieve his first destiny, he pursues his plan on a galactic scale. The Infinity Stones will see the completion of his work, instantly halving the populations of all inhabited worlds. It’s cruel, but it’s essentially a controlled kill-off on a galactic scale, and Thanos seems to have the motivations of Jor-El and Zod by way of Man of Steel, the Reapers of Mass Effect, and the leaders of the simulated war in Star Trek‘s “A Taste of Armageddon” episode from the original series.

Most interestingly, Thanos recognizes that he has to be willing to sacrifice everything close to him to achieve his goals. The superheroes are not quite so willing to do that. They are heroes because they fight for the weak and the innocent, because they value human life, because they’re willing to sacrifice themselves but not others. This leads to something that feels like a plot hole but is really just a telling weakness of the heroes. Vision is powered by an Infinity Stone. If the Avengers destroy the stone, they stop Thanos, but they kill Vision. Vision is willing to make the sacrifice, but the Avengers insist that they are not willing to just take his life, even with half the galaxy at stake. Instead, they try to remove the stone, and they put off destroying it (and killing Vision) until the last second. By doing so, they are undone; Thanos sees where and how Vision is killed, and he is simply able to walk up to the spot and reverse time the few moments necessary to recover the stone and kill Vision himself. In contrast, when Thanos must sacrifice one he loves to obtain the Soul Stone, he mournfully gives up Gamora without hesitation. He believes in the moral goodness of what he is doing and so knows that the loss of one, even one that he loves, is balanced by the greater good that he will do in ending resource scarcity and avoiding the total extermination of human life.

That’s an interesting theme. In all the explosions and banter, it ends up as a nagging thread in the background. But since we know that the end of the film lacks true consequence, all the deaths seem incredibly cheap and trivial. Since we know that the heroes will find another way to restore balance, Thanos’s sacrifices seem pointless. The heroes will find another way, a third option; they’ll do so even though the first Avengers was meant to show them (and the audience) that sometimes the only option left is sacrifice or failure.

Disturbingly, the choices of the Avengers also mean that the advanced society of Wakanda is decimated, its already weakened armies suffering heavy losses in the fight to protect Vision. Where Black Panther was wonderfully post-colonial in its messaging, Infinity War asserts the spectacle of the bloodshed of black people on behalf of one android (who chooses to appear as a white man). If it was the Avengers alone fighting for their friend, that could be justified. It’s harder to see how they can view sacrificing a nation for one man as a moral act. They knowingly sacrifice dozens of lives, maybe even hundreds, for that one man, just as a mere delaying tactic. That’s pretty gross and hard to reconcile with the film’s dominant theme or with what a hero should be.

That leaves one final thought for me, though: why not use the Infinity Stones to merely increase available resources? One could say that life would just continue to expand to deplete those resources, but the same could be true of life in a galaxy where half of it has been wiped out. In years or decades or centuries or millennia, we could end up back at the status quo. I suspect that the answer is that Thanos believes (or knows) that the Infinity Stones can only alter the universe, but cannot add to it. They cannot make something out of nothing, perhaps. If that’s the case, maybe Thanos hopes the second problem (that resource depletion will arise again) will be so far off that he will be viewed in a favorable light and that someone else will take up his mantle. Or maybe he just wants to kill people and feel good about doing so.

I suppose that Infinity War did make me think. But it made creative choices that I must earnestly disagree with. And rather than leaving the theater with a strong reaction–of joy or grief or anger–I left with only mild, blank irritation, which is probably the biggest condemnation that I could level against this film.

Infinity War: More Marvel, More the Same, Forever.

Maybe not the galaxy’s greatest

I’ve never really been active in any fan community. At best, I’ve been on the periphery. Suits me fine. But I am an observer, and from the periphery I’ve been observing the Star Wars fandom, especially through Twitter, more and more. The people I follow are people I like, with interesting things to say; they generally have warm, positive attitudes, which is impressive for an impersonal venue like Twitter. My little bubble blinded me to a lot of the gross, hateful elements of fandom, however.

My bubble’s been burst a little bit. I’ve watched from the periphery as fanboys flailed about in rage, insulted by the very idea that someone would publicly announce, in the context of an off-hand tweet, that they thought Boba Fett was boring. I have no role in that conversation, and I’m not going to involve myself there. It doesn’t affect me at all. But it did remind me of the toxicity and rigid adherence to nostalgia that fan communities so often become consumed by.

Again, I have nothing to say about that larger discussion. It has nothing to do with me, and it’s not my place. But it did make me reflect on my own engagement with Star Wars. While I try to critically engage any property, no matter how much I love it, at some point views do calcify. With something like Star Wars, where I’ve had exposure since a young age, it can be surprising to realize that my views have crystallized, sometimes in ways that would never have occurred to me.

I thought about Boba Fett in particular. I don’t love Fett, but I have (typically) thought he was a cool character. I started thinking about Fett and some of the other small, supporting characters I loved in The Empire Strikes Back, thinking about why I liked them, and trying to reexamine them from different angles.

Background characters from the film that I’ve been especially fond of are Admiral Piett, the bounty hunters, and General Veers. While I still like the characters, and I think they serve their roles well, I realized they may be less a collection of the galaxy’s most badass and more a collection of the galaxy’s…most simply bad. (Note that I’m evaluating the characters here based on the new canon, so things like Boba’s death-defying crawl from the Sarlacc are simply irrelevant to these versions of the characters).

databank_admiralpiett_01_169_18014135.jpegPiett’s an easy example of how my uncritical childhood fandom obscured flaws. I saw him as a survivor, someone who could course-correct and avoid the pompous ego of Admiral Ozzel. He seemed to have a healthy respect for Vader. And the fact that he made it to Return of the Jedi indicated (to child-me) that he was capable.

But really, Piett is a bumbling idiot. He gets promoted to Admiral by Vader not because of quality but because he happens to be the highest-ranking officer aboard the ship after Ozzel is killed. While it may be unfair to blame Piett for the many escaped rebel ships in the aftermath of the Hoth invasion, since he was left with what could be salvaged of Ozzel’s failed plan, he led a very ineffective search for the Millennium Falcon. And while it was Captain Needa’s crew that was fooled by Han’s quick flying, Piett did not uncover the deception. Nor did his fleet find Han–the bounty hunters he dismissed as scum did that job. And he fails to properly carry out Vader’s orders on Bespin: his troops fail to secure the prisoners, his technicians fail to droid-proof their sabotage of the Falcon, and his crew fails to seize the freighter before it makes its jump to hyperspace. Piett surely escapes death at Vader’s hands for the mounting failures only because the Dark Lord is distracted by his encounter with his son.

Then in Jedi, Piett dies, the whole of the Executor along with him, because he only recognizes the weakness to forward defenses in a reactionary fashion. He is emblematic of every other Imperial officer who fails to adequately assess the ability of the rebels until it is far too late.

He’s a decent military officer in the sense that he can comply with orders, he doesn’t seem to get a big ego (at first), and he manages to stay on Darth Vader’s good side. But he’s not a great officer, nor a clever tactician, nor even a challenging foe.

bountyhuntersAs with Piett, so with the bounty hunters. A couple of droids and a bunch of low-lifes in mismatched armor and bandages, the group does manage to at least look cool. But none of them do anything. I always viewed Boba Fett as a badass for two reasons: (1) the “no disintegrations” line, and (2) his capture of Solo. Not that his Return of the Jedi death by way of jetpack malfunction did much to help his image. But even the two reasons I’ve cited can be easily weakened. As many have pointed out, Darth Vader could be warning Fett, not because of lethal efficiency, but because the bounty hunter has a history of messy screw-ups and virtually-impossible-to-identify bounties. As for the second reason, and I’m surprised that I never realized this (or heard the theory circulated, not that I looked), but the only reason that Fett realized Solo’s trick and could find him amid the emptying garbage of the Star Destroyer is that Obi-Wan had pulled a similar disappearing trick on the back side of an asteroid during Boba’s formative years. Given that Obi-Wan’s escape soon after resulted in a sequence of events that left Boba’s father dead, the boy probably would have remembered it. Boba was not necessarily a skilled tracker; his prey just so happened to use the one trick that any prequel viewer would know he is very explicitly aware of.

The Clone Wars also establish Boba and his fellow bounty hunters as a lot of losers, for the most part. In “Death Trap,” Boba repeatedly fails at a covert mission to assassinate Mace Windu. Bossk, Boba, and their companions also screw up another attempt to take down Mace Windu in “R2 Come Home.” Bossk and Boba end up captured in the following episode. Bossk and Dengar fail to escort moving cargo in “Bounty,” and that same episode sees Boba outdone by Asajj Ventress. In short, they’re definitely not top-notch hunters like Cad Bane.

With a relative dearth of writing about the Empire bounty hunters in the new canon, we have not fully seen their stories developed. What there is remains mixed. For example, Boba is shown to be a brutal hunter when tracking down Luke in the Star Wars comics, although he fails to capture the boy in the ensuing confrontation.

On further reflection, I kind of like the idea that the bounty hunters are not aboard the Executor because they are the best, but instead simply because they could get there the fastest. Perhaps they’re just a bunch of desperate Outer Rim lowlifes who could hop into orbit around Hoth to get the mission almost immediately after the end of the battle because they were already in a nearby backwater sector.

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So that leaves General Veers for reexamination. What are his flaws?

Um, none. He’s an awesome bad guy. He successfully leads a massive Imperial land victory even after the Imperial Navy screw-up on approach. He obeys orders and keeps a cool head. He delivers. He’s great.

 

A good use of color

I just thought the below was an absolutely incredible GIF:

I’ve been a fan of many comics writers and artists over the years, but I’ve barely even considered the colorists. It’s amazing how much of a stylistic impact a colorist’s decisions can have!