Superman in a bra.

Thighs shaved smoother than a cucumber. Cupid-bow lips. Armored breast. Screenings for Lesbians Only. The first ever feature film for the DC superhero WONDER WOMAN has already caused its fare share of controversy and orgasm.

It seems as if critics are only lauding this Patty Jenkins-directed film for fear of retribution from the female gender, and as contriteness for heaping such derision on the female-driven GHOSTBUSTERS last year. The first female superhero movie? Oh, it’s the best movie ever made! Best superhero movie by a mile! Totally “gets it” for women!

You lost me at lesbian screenings.

WONDER WOMAN is undoubtedly a thrilling tale, with excellent production values, an origin story not done to death like Batman’s or Spider-Man’s, its star an alluring neophyte in man-dribbling mini-skirt, with a scarring orchestral theme that halts armies and storms ramparts! (The bed of Hans Zimmer drums, the wailing banshee tritones of Junkie XL; insistent, vertiginous, clawing into your cerebral cortex!) Yet the movie fails to jolt into the upper climes of superherodom. Maybe it does for feminists and those boyfriends who need to gain access to feminist panties, however as part of the DC Extended Universe, WONDER WOMAN fails to grapple with the darkness and depth of MAN OF STEEL or BATMAN V SUPERMAN. It gets very close though. As close as a shaved thigh on a pouty face.

From Here To Themiscyra.

Wonder Woman’s origin story (created by William Moulton Marston in 1941) was originally set during World War II. WONDER WOMAN (written by Alan Heinberg, Zack Snyder and Jason Fuchs) is set in WWI, because the filmmakers wanted “social innocence” (read as women being treated like second-class citizens without repercussions: they wanted Diana to be out of place when brought to 1900’s London, yet unable to change the social climate).

Other than the era change, Wonder Woman comes to us as we remember her: embarrassingly patriotic red-white-and-blue garb, shield, sword (called the “god-killer”), Lasso of Hestia (aka Lasso of Truth), and tiny black nun’s panties covered with armored platelet and a gold-rimmed corset that makes us yearn after that and those.

A brief prologue shows Diana Prince aka Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) in modern times, looking at a vintage 1918 photograph of herself (see SIDEBAR). Then we are flashed back to a sun-soaked paradise island – Themiscyra, where we find a city of warriors bred for battle, ruling their land with wisdom and strength, running a society with ingenuity and intelligence, with no need for the opposite gender except for procreation; in other words, a society of men— Uh oh! Now I’m in trouble. No, not men – Amazons! Wild warrior women!

We meet young Diana (remarkable Lilly Aspell), mimicking General Antiope (statuesque Robin Wright, bringing her sensual venom from HOUSE OF CARDS and expressing it in real battle). Connie Nielsen is Diana’s doting mother, Queen Hippolyta, describing Diana’s birth (molded from clay by Zeus). And what is that accent they’re all using? Are they reverse-engineering Gal Gadot’s exotic Israeli accent into the full Amazon cast?

Baby Diana is trained by Antiope until she blossoms into Gal Gadot, faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap— well, you know. And that is the movie’s contradictory misstep: Diana and the Amazons are bred for one thing – battle against Ares (Hippolyta warned: “Ares the god of war turned men against one another and war ravaged the earth”) – yet when grown Diana wants to lend her fighting bosom to the World War because she suspects Ares’ meddling, the first thing the Amazons do is disown her, telling her The legends are not true!… See? Now do you get the reason why this movie is not credible? And you thought I was just being sexist.

Y’know, if you try to find a picture of Wonder Woman that ISN’T prurient – you will fail.

When American pilot Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) crash-lands on Themiscyra and inadvertently leads Germans to its shores, the warrior women launch into sexy battle and win. (Fist-up for woman empowerment and all that.) Sexy and kiddie-clean, as there is no blood whatsoever in this balletic battle utilizing blades, arrows and guns. Antiope even takes a bloodless bullet for Diana. (But I thought their armor was bullet-proof, or is that just Diana’s gauntlets? Even so, the pellets from these old-fashioned guns couldn’t have done that much damage – why not rush Antiope to that pool of rejuvenation that they put Steve in? Movies, huh?)

Steve, an American spy, importunes the Amazons to join him in the war effort, telling them of the villainous General Ludendorff (Danny Huston), and his chemical warfare mistress, Dr. Poison (Elena Anaya), from whom he stole deadly information. But the Amazons do not believe, as Diana does, that Ares is behind the “war to end all wars,” so decide to bravely sit out this world conflict. Diana is forced to steal the shield, lasso and sword, and sail off as a runaway with Steve. She’s painted as a rebel because Wonder Woman, like Superman, threatens to become a boring character if she is all-pure. Hippolyta laments to Diana, “If you choose to leave, you may never return.” (Uh, one good reason, please?)

Yet… as Hippolyta watches her daughter disappear over the waves, she proclaims, “The more she knows, the sooner he will find her,” meaning she ADMITS Ares is behind the war, also revealing she has not told Diana something important. We would learn later it is Diana herself who is the “god-killer.” And there was no reason to keep that secret. And if Hippolyta is so dubious of Diana’s battle prowess, why not just mobilize her army of lazy Amazon bitches and join the war effort?

You lost me at star-spangled underpants.

Back in smog-choked 1918 London, it’s fish-out-of-water time as Diana tries to fit in with a misogynistic society where women are subservient, like Steve’s assistant Etta (Lucy Davis, still a secretary; in THE OFFICE, sensual; here, frumpy). Diana enters the all-male House of Lords, led by David Thewlis. She berates the generals, not understanding how they can knowingly “sacrifice all those lives.” Answer: Because all men are pigs, right girls?!

Superhero sugar high.

Movie is funny in innocuous ways: Diana tells Steve, “Only an Amazon can defeat Ares.” He replies, “We need to get to London and try to find the men who can.” She retorts, “I’M the men who can!” It’s cute because it’s true.

Homage to SUPERMAN: they put glasses on Diana as a disguise; she stops a bullet in an alley mugging; she gads about in a big cloak to cover her armor/nakedness.

The old trope of Steve recruiting his men while they’re engaged in bar fights – Said Taghmaoui, Ewen Bremner and Eugene Brave Rock (very cool to include a Native American on this ragtag team); the three men who would be in that amazing cross-generational photo.

Quite childishly romantic, as Steve and Diana spend but one night together in a hotel room, before they will be separated by tragedy; although I’m thinking of the logistics on how a super-powered being can ever be satisfied by a mortal, even if he is the Captain of the Enterprise. Superman’s Kryptonian thrusts are two decades away.

At the front lines, the team is pinned down in a trench. Steve yells, “This is No Man’s Land; no MAN can cross it!” Oh, here we go – fist-up for substituting the word ‘woman.’ Thankfully, they don’t, and instead go for the jugular with the Wonder Woman reveal.

Slow motion, Diana climbs out of the trench, shrugs off her cloak, revealing the battle armor that wouldn’t cover a midget (prompting all male genitals to slowly “unfold”), and steps into the mud of No Man’s Land. Somehow, she has her sword and shield, boots, gauntlets, thighs, waterfall raven tresses babbling over naked shoulders, flap of groin-skirt sensually teasing, you could almost taste the pearbottom… In this hero shot, violins chug, smoke drifts, she looks like Linda Carter – the movie has won! –

Bullets scream at her, they ping off her gauntlets and shield, and then, the chugging is joined by those temple-throbbing drums – and the jarring tritone theme unleashes its fury. We almost wet our groin-platelets in ecstasy.

She takes on armed Germans, clobbering, swishing, deflecting bullets; flawless skin, vermilion lips, corded thighs, nun’s panties, raven locks… I don’t know where you’re looking, but my cinema experience is a wonder…

DC movies have started to follow a dangerous pattern (no, not just the new longer motion logo, which Cinema Sins will go ape over): their third acts devolve into eye-shattering CGI battles that would do TRANSFORMERS films proud. It was great in MAN OF STEEL, as Superman used his powers of flight and strength in ways that had never been visualized before; the city-sized explosions became a little tiresome in BATMAN V SUPERMAN, but here… they’ve bought the farm on predictable and overblown with Wonder Woman versus Ares, just clobbering the shit out of the greenscreen.

The villain gets to soliloquy on “wiping out Mankind and bringing paradise to the Earth,” which I can’t find fault with. She actually answers, “I can never be a part of that!” Give me one good reason why you don’t want paradise on Earth again? But the audience is not given the chance to ponder contradictions, as now Wondy is fighting a gigantic Viking special effect with a man-skort. How can she possibly win against this obviously stronger god? Answer: more special effects.

The big questions in play in WONDER WOMAN (Is Mankind worth saving? Will love save the world? Is every human both darkness and light?) become totally irrelevant due to the movie’s own plot. You see, after Wonder Woman defeats the Visual Effects Department (aka Ares), all the Germans break out of a trance and become good again. They’re telling us that all that “morality” and “love of war” has nothing to do with human free will, but possession by Ares! Which means that questioning Mankind’s dual nature, and capability for love, and busting out the painfully trite “They are warlike – yet noble” speech can all be boiled down to, “Just keep Ares away from them, they’ll be okay.”

“It’s about what you believe. And I believe in love.” Diana’s opening and closing maudlin narration makes us cringe, as the filmmakers try to tie Wonder Woman to William Marston’s original ethos – that she would combat hate (i.e. war) with love (i.e. breasts). “I have seen the terrible things men do to each other in the name of hatred, and the lengths they’ll go to for love.” My gorge is rising, as well as… “Only love can save this world. So I stay. I fight, and I give… for the world I know can be. This is my mission. Now. For ever.”

And a cheese factory exploded in London.

END

Office Spaced.

Genius Ricky Gervais forges one of the greatest comedy series in history, co-writing, co-directing and starring in THE OFFICE. No punchline required.

Before we proceed with this joyous excursion into comedic venality, let us clarify the world in which we live in (thank you, Paul!): there is only *one* THE OFFICE. That is: Ricky Gervais’s and Stephen Merchant’s astounding British import. There is no “American version” of THE OFFICE; there is something mutated and ugly and autistic and amateurish and writhing in plagiaristic puerility (albeit authorized and executive-produced by Gervais) that has the unbridled audacity to term itself “The Office,” featuring beige Steve Carell, whom marketers have to continually remind us is funny. But that flailing debacle is not THE OFFICE. There is only one THE OFFICE.

Onward…

THE OFFICE uses the format of the “reality show” to frame the incredible writing and seemingly mundane plotlines that yield explosively funny situations, in a paper supply business run by an insecure, self-aggrandizing, duplicitous office manager named David Brent (Gervais).

Filmed exclusively on hand-held cameras, with the premise that this footage is for a documentary, the most dazzling aspect of this series is that it is meticulously scripted, even though the naturalistic performances seem improvised; the cast is uniformly brilliant in their perfect timing and talking head spots.

The pathos and simultaneous beating heart of THE OFFICE is David Brent, a character so vile and dishonest, so venal and petty, that if he were real, you would either studiously avoid him or kick his head in. But the genius of Gervais (and co-writer/director Merchant) is in making Brent (who is admittedly a composite of people they’ve known) such a lovable lump. It is his insecurities and uncomfortable attempts at connecting with people that drives each episode. All comedy is pain. And David Brent brings the pain.

It’s ironic and annoying that every new American comedy series is erroneously and impertinently compared to Monty Python, while THE OFFICE is a British comedy that is blood-linked to Python due to their cultural pedigree, but are too classy to mention the link. Because they are nothing like Python (as all the American “comedy” shows are nothing like Python). The only American show that comes close to the nuanced ugliness/hilarity of THE OFFICE is – no, not the stillborn American OFFICE, that lacks any heart at all – Gary Shandling’s brilliant THE LARRY SANDERS SHOW.

THE OFFICE is almost a mockumentary, almost a tragicomedy, almost a reality show, and definitely the funniest thing to come out of Britain since… well, since Monty Python.

episode one : downsize

The first spark of brilliance, that becomes apparent only in retrospect, is that all the characters in THE OFFICE are fully formed from the first minutes they appear onscreen. No matter which episode you watch, from Season One or Season Two, there is never inconsistency; the creators and actors know these characters so well it almost is a reality series.

In the first few minutes, Ricky Gervais immediately shows us Something New as David Brent; a melding of John Cleese and Jim Carrey, as he hires a forklift driver while trying too hard to impress the driver with his largesse.

The comedy universe is shaken. Brent is a trope we all know from real life, yet performed here with such lethal conviction, he is a character we’ve never seen so clearly before. For all his bluster, he is a sad clown; irritating to be around, yet pitied for his incompetency in human relations. The comedy is subtle, intelligent, deadpan, inexplicable.

The camera holds past the zingers, way past the supposed punchlines, gouging out uncomfortable silences and painful wondering-what-to-do-with-oneself. That gutsiness separates THE OFFICE from all its inferiors.

We meet secretary Dawn (Lucy Davis), a plump cuteness who doesn’t quite know how to tolerate Brent. Sales Rep Tim (Martin Freeman), bored out of his mind and staying sane by teasing fellow rep Gareth (Mackenzie Crook), who takes his post as “team leader” uber-seriously, reminding us of his credentials in the “Territorial Army.” Elegant and smoking hot regional manager Jennifer (Stirling Gallacher) brings news to Brent (who can’t stop looking at her legs) that there will be redundancies (firings) as one of their branches is closing down.

We come to learn the company is called Wernham-Hogg, located in Slough, apparently a bleak suburb in Berkshire held in disdain. And everyone seems to be doing actual boring monkey work. We also discover a tentative chemistry between Dawn and Tim and realize immediately it is unconsummated with the appearance of Dawn’s working-class boyfriend Lee (Joel Beckett), a forklift driver in the warehouse.

While Tim plays petty jokes on Gareth, baking his stapler into jelly (Jell-O to Americans), Brent is intent on trying to convey to the camera crew that the office is rolling in laughter provided by him (as resident comedian and personable drunk), and a practical joke on Dawn goes awry when he tries to prove this. And as we laugh until we cough and sputter, our analytical minds continually marvel at the way THE OFFICE lands on the dark side of comedy rather than the sad side of revulsion for this dubious character.

Each episode has a “stinger” so keep watching until after the credits.

episode two : work experience

Brent’s best friend’s daughter, sexy Donna (Sally Bretton), floats around the office for work experience, which causes a testosterone stir. Brent and Gareth puff out their chests and advertise their masculinity in their own ways – both as subtle as beating her over the head with a club: Brent as the joke-telling cool guy, Gareth as the territorial army soldier, wearing a gun holster to work to carry his mobile phone.

Speaking of testosterone, a Photoshopped picture of Brent as a woman with two men jizzing on his back circulates the e-mail system, and Brent assigns Gareth to find the culprit. Gareth’s first task is to decide on the correct signage for his ad hoc “office” to interrogate suspects.

While practicing the moonwalk and robot dancing with Tim, Brent is visited by regional manager Jennifer, who asks him for five changes he’s made in the office to improve productivity. Brent replies, “I’ll give you three and another two if you need them.”

The mystery of the porn picture explodes in Brent’s face (much like the jism on his back) while Jennifer and the office personnel look on at his discomfort. For a man humiliated so continually on camera, it’s a wonder Brent ever signed the release forms to air the footage.

episode three : the quiz

Tim’s 30th birthday, questioning his future while wearing the Hat-FM cap that his parents gave him.

We meet roving sales rep Chris Finch (Ralph Ineson), a life-of-the-party loudmouth whom Brent believes is his best mate, but who only uses Brent as a foil to bully. But Brent uses “Finchy” to his own ends, vicariously feeding off Finch’s confident bluster.

Brent continues a running commentary with young Ricky (Oliver Chris) on Dostoevsky, for which he must keep running back to the internet to check his facts before trying to impress Ricky with his “innate” knowledge.

Brent and Finch have won the office quiz contest six years running. Calling themselves The Dead Parrots (a nod to Python, of course), they are sore losers, bad sports, and great cheats. When they lose the intellectual competition, Finch announces that the final challenge is throwing a shoe over the building to decide the winner.

Wedding plans for Dawn and Lee, to the chagrin of Tim; well, their birthday gift to him of a giant inflatable cock should ease the pain.

episode four : training

Staff training day, with Brent intent on proving he is more experienced and qualified than the trainer, insisting on doing his Basil Fawlty impression when called upon to demonstrate customer satisfaction.

When Brent pulls out his guitar, it’s all over. He could have been a rocker, he says, could’ve been On The Road right now, yeah man; chose the paper industry instead. Gareth soaks it up vicariously, providing the guitar and some unneeded backing vocals when Brent breaks into his original songs.

Dawn and Lee break up, as long-suffering Tim watches from the sidelines. What he doesn’t see is them reconciling. Then – in full view of all the office staff, he girds his loins and asks Dawn out – after she has made up with Lee. Awk-waaard.

Brent serenades Dawn to ease the pain. With Gareth on backing vocals.

episode five : new girl

Even though his office is staring down the barrel of redundancies, Brent hires a new secretary, who had all the qualifications necessary for the position over the well-dressed gentleman who applied – she was cute and blond.

Tim resigns because, as big Keith (Ewen MacIntosh) affirms, “You embarrassed yourself with her, didn’t you?” He wants to move on to become a psychologist, to which Gareth asks, “What do you want to be a psychiatrist for? They’re all mad themselves, aren’t they?” While uncomfortable silences arise between Dawn and Tim, Gareth tries it on with Donna, through the cunning facade of training her in Health and Safety.

The subtle handling of Tim’s and Dawn’s “romance” is poignant. We feel their longing in the shots of Dawn’s face and Tim’s discomfiture; it’s one of those great unanswered riddles, like Sam and Diane in CHEERS, Tony and Angela in WHO’S THE BOSS?, Adam West and Burt Ward in BATMAN…

The office crew hit a night club, on the pull. It’s loud, raucous, crowded, drunk, tragic and hilarious.

Brent ends the episode reading a John Betjeman poem about the shortcomings of Slough. “And they made him a knight of the realm! Overrated!”

episode six : judgement

As the series opened with David Brent hiring a forklift driver, it ends with Brent firing the same driver (same actor); the discussion devolves into the differences between midgets, dwarves, elves, and goblins.

Jennifer brings news of the office shakeups: she has moved up to partner, and Brent was voted by the board into her job of regional manager, meaning many of his staff would get the chop. Brent phrases it to the office as “bad news and good news” but is corrected that it’s bad news and irrelevant news. “That’s not a phrase, though. I couldn’t come out and say, ‘I got some bad news and irrelevant news’!”

More than willing to betray his staff, whom he promised he would stand by, Brent ultimately fails the medical for his promotion and then makes it seem like he stood by his staff by “faking” high blood pressure to fail the medical.

As hilarious as this scenario and these scenes are, with Brent talking his way in circles, it is scary to realize that this is how politicians sound when asked direct questions. And that’s why we hate them. Why then, don’t we hate David Brent? His garish displays of unapologetic selfishness and duplicity remain darkly funny to the end.

The staff throws a final party where almost everyone gets laid, even Gareth. Tim decides to stay at the office due to a promotion, and starts sounding like Brent in his rationalization of why this choice is better than pursuing psychology.

Final Words: Brent: “I don’t do it for the laughs, or the money or the fame. I do it because one day someone will go, ‘There goes David Brent. I must remember to thank him.'”

Well, for entertainment above and beyond the call of Python, thank you, David Brent. Thank you so bloody much.

END