The Saga Is Complete: Star Wars Episode III Revenge of the Sith on DVD

Well, here we are. At the end of a journey that has lasted almost thirty years.

The end of the Star Wars saga. Oh sure, the film's release last May was the "official" end. But today, November 1st 2005, marks the end in a different way. The story ended with the film's theatrical release, but as a Star Wars fan and collector, today the film saga ends more permanently with the release of Episode III on DVD. Sure, there will be the big "Ultimate Edition" boxset with all the DVDs and extra stuff, but that's a few years away. Today marks the completion of the saga. It's done. You can have the whole shebang to yourself.

Yeah, I know. Ner-dee. But hey, at least I'm not this excited about the latest derivation of crack. It's all about perspective, people.

Here's some pics celebrating the release of the last Star Wars film on DVD.

My Star Wars DVD collection before today. Notice the bareness of that space between the two trilogies...it begs "Please, complete me, complete meeee!" Or maybe not. I don't know.



Here I am at home having just purchased my copy of Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. I kissed my wife and daughter, said hello to my mother-in-law, and then went to the DVD shelf, baby!! Woohoo!



Here I am making room between Episodes I and II and Episodes IV-VI for Episode III. The empty gap between the trilogies was more eager than even I was. Yep.



Ah, The Moment of Moments. The addition of Episode III in its rightful place in the Star Wars saga. Sweet Mother of Yoda, this is it!!!



The first image of the saga now complete. Now finished. Holy.Crap. Here we go.



And now, the ultimate pic of the entire Star Wars Saga on DVD. Here it is, all of the cover artwork coming together thematically to paint the picture of the greatest saga ever committed to film:



Well, there it is. The End. Or is it? Time will tell...

Our family's Hurricane Preparedness Plan (A First Draft)

Meaux Family Hurricane Preparedness Plan
Drafted on Saturday, September 24th, 2005, in the wake of Hurricane Rita

The following is a first draft of what will be a fluid preparedness plan for our family. I'm sharing it with family and friends to hopefully get them thinking about how to adequately prepare for an approaching hurricane. The sharing of information such as this will go a long way to helping all of us be ready in the face of life-threatening, possibly catastrophic damage.

I know the color-coded stuff is a little nerdy, but the point is to have memorable stages of our plan as a convenient means of reference. And as those who know will attest, I love saying and writing this kind of dramatic, summer-blockbuster the world's in jeopardy kind of stuff. Like I said: nerdy. I admit it.

Condition Blue

Condition Blue (Blue Alert) is set when a strong tropical storm or hurricane enters the Gulf of Mexico. Blue Alert simply means that we are watching this storm very carefully. If the forecast track is favorable for the Texas-Louisiana-Mississippi coasts, and intensification is assured, we will move to the next condition.

Condition Yellow

Condition Yellow (Yellow Alert) is set when a tropical storm or hurricane is guaranteed (as much as such things can ever be guaranteed) to make landfall somewhere along the Texas, Louisiana, or Mississippi coastline. Yellow means that we will begin to look at options for evacuation, i.e., checking hotel availability outside of the threatened area and/or calling friends or family who live outside of the threatened area. If we find an available room or home to move to, we will make arrangements as necessary. This would include making temporary reservations at a hotel or letting friends or relatives know when we'd like to arrive at their homes.

Note: I should mention that I learned while staying in BR during Rita that advance hotel reservations may not be honored in times of extreme crisis. This apparently happened often during Katrina and Rita. We will try and determine if the hotel we're considering as a refuge will allow us to pay in full when making the reservation, thus guaranteeing our room. I'm not sure if this is even possible, though I imagine this would not be a big factor unless we have another back-to-back situation as we saw with Katrina and Rita, or as I like to call the whole big mess, "KatRita."

When Condition Yellow is set, emergency supplies and actions will be purchased and taken. This involves fueling our vehicles, boarding up our home, letting our employers know that we are considering evacuating, and purchasing items needed for an extended stay somewhere outside the cone of uncertainty. This includes getting making certain needed medications are filled and securing important documents and valuables to be taken with us during evacuation.

Condition Red

Condition Red (Red Alert) is set when our area is in the forecast's "cone of uncertainty." This means that forecasters are assuring us that a better than 50% chance exists that the storm will make landfall in the Louisiana area, either directly south of us or to the north or west. For our family, we have agreed that we will move to Condition Blue with a hurricane of a Category 1 or higher. While this may not be known at the time of setting Condition Blue, we will watch carefully for the possibility of intensification before making landfall.

I should note here that a big factor involved in going to Condition Red will be where our area is in relation to the storm's forecasted track. If we're to the east, as we were with Rita, we will leave even in the event of a Cat 1 storm. If we're to the west of the storm, we will then take its intensity into consideration before deciding to leave.

When Condition Red is set, we will try to leave our homes somewhere between 36 to 48 hours prior to the storm's landfall. This will hopefully put us at least a day ahead of other evacuees, thus allowing us to avoid traffic pile-ups and other possibly dangerous situations, as were seen with Houston's evacuation during Hurricane Rita.

Condition Orange

Condition Orange (Orange Alert) is set when we receive the first indications that the storm is fully out of our area. As I write these plans, there are still some outer tropical bands resulting from Hurricane Rita. We had a harrowing drive from Baton Rouge in wind gusts of up to sixty miles an hour. The possibility of tornadic development was high, though we thankfully did not face any such conditions.

Condition Orange means that we will begin considering when to begin our journey homeward from our safe haven. This will include letting our hotel know when we are leaving (we expect to make reservations for at least two days during Yellow Alert) and consulting the Louisiana State Police and other official information sources for details of the conditions along the way home. The Louisiana State Police hotline was invaluable to us as when we decided to both evacuate early Friday morning and return home late Saturday afternoon during Hurricane Rita. The officers and staff we talked to were friendly and knowledgeable and ready to assist us with traffic conditions and weather updates. Via cellphone, they can be reached at *LSP (*577).

Condition Green

Condition Green is set when we have decided, based on weather information and traffic updates, to return home.

Post script: Ali and I did not enjoy the psychological strain of worrying about the sounds attendant to intense and severe weather. We decided early Friday morning to depart for Baton Rouge, and though we did lose power where we stayed and not at our home in Youngsville, we were able to mentally unwind Friday, allowing for sleep and rest before the strain of the landfalling storm. It is for these reasons that we have agreed to vacate our home, as we would rather err on the side of caution and spend a few hundred bucks than remain and "hope for the best." This will be especially important when our daughter Ava is here.

Reflections on Rita

Well, here we are yet again. At the end of yet another major hurricane in Louisiana.

I have to say, I've had it. I'm done. Really. No more.

Here's a brief history. The first hurricane I remember was Danny, back in the 80's. I was a kid. I was freakin' terrified. I'd long been terrified of severe weather. My dad dragged us all to a horse show in Texas one year, and I remember to this day waking up from a nap in the back seat to a terrifying sight: night-black skies in the middle of the day.

We were driving through an area during an outbreak of tornadic activity. We didn't see any tornadoes, but I was forever scarred by incident. As the years went by, anytime an ominous cloud appeared, I was scared spitless.

Then came Hurricane Andrew. Need I say more? We were all affected by this storm, and even today still feel its effects. My father, who is against any form of evacuation, decided that we weren't going anywhere. I wasn't old enough to do anything about his decision, so I was stuck. We boarded up the windows and then waited. My father pontificated about the storm. His non-meterological background made it hard to be comforted. I still remember getting home from school earlier that day and laying on the floor in our living room. I looked up at the ceiling tile and thought "This is it. I'm going to die. This is the end." This was reinforced by a talk I had on the phone just after returning home with a friend from school. Margaret was not really one to ever show her fear of anything. Yet I could hear in her voice that she was worried about this hurricane. She finally admitted she was scared. That, I figured, might as well have been a death warrant, signed by a wet and windy finger from the Gulf. We sat in the dark and tried not to wonder what was richoting off our roof and the facade of the house. We survived, but were forever changed.

I remember driving home after having dinner with my friend Roy and his cousin Howard. I'd been accepted as a seminarian for the Diocese of Lafayette only weeks before. We were meeting to talk about seminary, since Roy had gone in a year before I did.

The weather was not a concern, as I was enjoying spending time with my friends. As we finished dinner at Duffy's Diner in New Iberia, the skies darkened, and I realized I needed to go. I bolted out of "The Berry" and was confronted with twisting, roiling clouds. I started praying and hit 80 just before making it to Delcambre. Thankfully, I avoided the severe weather that would break out later on in isolated areas.

Next came Tropical Storm Alison. Not a big deal for me at the time. Just a lot of rain. I ordered a pizza (the comfort food I eat even when I don't need comfort) and settled in for a few days of rain. It was great.

Then Lili came a'knockin. She was quite the bitch. I had been dating Ali, who would become my wife a little over a year later, and she decided she wasn't staying in Lafayette. "Great," I remember thinking, "I'm not staying either. Let's go to Mississippi, or northern Louisiana. You. Me. Anyone who wants to join us. No storm. Fun."

Ali had already made up her mind that she wanted to go and be with her family in Crowley. "Crowley," I remember thinking. "That's still in Louisiana, right?" Ali freed my up from any feelings of committment, telling me it was alright if I wanted to evacuate.

I was in love, so what was I going to do? After writing a brief will (yeah, I know, I wrote a will) and going to Confession, Ali and I taped up her windows and we were off to The Rice Capital of the World. Yay. Rice. At least we'll have something to eat if we don't die first.

Lili was hell in more ways than one. It did startling damage to Abbeville, Crowley, Duson, Rayne, Lafayette, and other places. At Ali's brother-in-law's, we sat and waited. I tried to be strong, but my mental vision becomes very focused in situations where a wind-tossed tree might rapidly and noisily stop this nice little thing I do called breathing.

The wind scraped its nails against the boards on the windows and the exterior of the house. We'd lost power the night before, beginning the greatest asset to comfort known: exceptional heat and humidity. I love smelling like a cheap gas station burrito, how about everyone else?

We watched the next day as a tree began to show signs of being uprooted. An hour or so later, it was, and it came crashing into my brother-and-law's house. "Chris, we're going outside to look around. Wanna come?" Uh, sure. I'm not doing anything else today but staying alive. Let's roll. Jeremy didn't really come out and ask me to go out there with him and Ali's uncle John, but I almost felt obliged. It's in the non-verbal agreement you make when you take up shelter during severe weather in someone else's house. "The undersigned will agree to subject themselves to clearly foolish and damned illogical activity, i.e., going out in sustained winds of thirty mph while also weathering 60 mph gusts. The undersigned should remember to bring a raincoat and a black suit for the nigh-inevitable burial later on."

At any rate, Lili didn't harm us too much, but the psychological strain of hearing winds droning like the damned in Hell and crashes that make your skin crawl has never left me.

Which brings us to three days ago. Southern Louisiana is in something called a "cone of uncertainty." These now infamous words kind of nipped at the confidence we had knowing that Katrina wouldn't really affect us. But worse than Rita's uncertain path was the fact that we would be on her east side. Everyone knows that's not where you want to be in a hurricane. Just look at what used to be the Mississippi coastline, to say nothing of the areas east of New Orleans.

My wife and I couldn't agree on what to do. I'd made up my mind during Lili that we'd not stay through such a storm ever again. But Katrina's wrath had assured that we'd not find room in the inn. So we were decided: we'd stay in the Lafayette area, taking refuge at the house of our friends Charles and Mandy Jaubert.

I took an anxiety pill at ten o'clock Thursday night, after removing and securing anything in our yard that might be a potential projectile. I slept like a log left over from Lili. But Ali tossed and turned and awoke every three hours. At 0515 Friday morning, she pokes me in that gentle way she has when waking me up and says, "I want to go to Baton Rouge."

I responded with "Okay," and that was it. Two hours later we made a surprisingly pleasant trek east, to stay with friends of Ali. We arrived and after eating breakfast and a nearby McDonald's, took a nice nap and watched the coverage of Rita.

Over all, our stay in Baton Rouge wasn't bad. But we lost power around 11: 30 PM last night, and had a sticky and frightful night of wondering if embedded tornadoes were going to toss tree limbs (or road signs or bicycles) through the windows or into the windshield of our car. I left my glasses at home, so after taking out my contacts, almost hardened by being worn too late, I went through Rita's landfall during nightfall almost blind. It's not something I recommend.

This morning we ventured out for coffee and breakfast. Our spirits high because the sun was out and it seemed that the worst was over. Then the skies darkened at 11 or so, and the winds came. We went back to our friends' home and waited. We awoke from naps an hour or so later to find the wind almost calm and roads dry. We decided to make the westward journey to home.

In Lobdell, the winds came again, this time with teeth fully bared. We watched as a lightpole at a fast food restaurant almost fell and collided with the children's playground out front. Ten minutes later, we drove slowly through forty mph gusts as a convoy of Army National Guardsmen headed towards ravaged Vermilion Parish. A Lafayette meterologist warned of approaching bands carrying with them embedded tornadic potential.

We prayed a Rosary and drove carefully but quickly across the Atchafalaya Basin. The wind swatted at us like someone does at a fly they only half care about killing. I was tempted to look at the twisting tendrils of cloud to the south of us, where I was sure I'd see the snaking form of a funnel cloud, ready to toss us off the basin bridge to certain death.

But we made it through, by the grace of God. We're home now, surprised to learn that neither we nor our neighbors ever lost power. We could have stayed, but the psychological strain would have been worse than it was in Baton Rouge.

And that's the whole point of all of this. I'm done, as I said at the beginning. No more. I've written some hurricane prepardness plans for our family. They're probably a little nerdy, as I used some color-coded "conditions" and "alerts" to gauge our levels of preparedness. But Ali and I are at least agreed that next time, if we're in that infamous cone, we're going to "err on the side of more," as Fr. Hampton "Padre" Davis used to tell me when I was his sacristan in college.

We might be wasting a few hundred bucks to stay in a hotel and get away. The next hurricane (and oh yeah buddy, there WILL be another one) might not even threaten us in any way. But we'll have peace of mind. And I find that I'd rather have that than a night of terrors, fraught with uncertainty and anxiety.

For a breakdown of our Meaux Family Hurricane Preparedness Plans, click here.

Chris

Beyond the Final Frontier: The Death of James Doohan, Star Trek's "Scotty"

James Doohan, known around the world for the last forty years as "Montgomery Scott, a.k.a. "Scotty," passed away Wednesday, July 20th, at the age of eighty-five. For various reasons, I haven't been able to write an entry about Mr. Doohan's passing until now.

As my family and friends know, I have been a dedicated and maybe even rabid Star Trek fan since I was a wee lad, as Scotty might say. As I mention in my entry about the cancellation of Star Trek: Enterprise and the end of the Trek franchise on television, I gained a love and appreciation of Star Trek through my brother, who was an avid fan himself back in the day. With Jarrod, I watched reruns of the original Star Trek series (still the best) and, of course, the film series with the original series cast. Star Trek has been a constant in my life for over twenty years. It has been a source of comfort and inspiration, of security and hope. Whether it was The Original Series or the The Next Generation, Star Trek was always there for me.

When I heard the news that James Doohan died, I didn't quite know how to feel. I know this will sound a little creepy for you non-Trek fans out there. But let me put some things in context for you. The Star Trek films featuring the Original Series cast and the Next Generation weekly episodes helped me pull through some difficult times in my life. The particulars of those struggles aren't important, but the fact that this mere "sci-fi show" was a part of how I coped is very critical. I remember shedding tears after viewing the last Star Trek film to feature the Original Series cast, "Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country." It was 1991, and I was fourteen or fifteen. But the characters of Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Sulu, Chechov, Uhura, and last but not least, Scotty, had been like an extended family to me. And by extension, so too had the wonderful cast who brought these characters to vibrant life. Of that cast, James Doohan was one of my favorites, both as the person he was and as Scotty.

I've taken my time to write this entry about James Doohan's passing because, quite frankly, I don't know that there are words. I didn't know Mr. Doohan personally, nor was I ever fortunate enough to meet him. But in various interviews I've read and watched over the decades, Mr. Doohan--along with his colleagues--has repeatedly stated that much of the character of Scotty came from the person James Doohan was.

I could list his accomplishments as an actor and as a war hero. I could tell you my favorite scenes featuring Mr. Doohan's "Scotty," as well as my favorite lines. Instead, I thought I'd share with a transcription of a brief interview with Mr. Doohan from the Star Trek documentary, "Trekkies." I watched this film for the first time last week after Mr. Doohan passed on. There are a few snippets of interviews with Mr. Doohan, but the one below is representative to me of who this man was as a human being and as an actor. And in the role he is best known for, good ol' Scotty, miracle-worker and engineer extraordinaire.

I got a fan letter from a young lady. It was a suicide note. So I called her, and I said "Hey, this is Jimmy Doohan. Scotty, of Star Trek. I'm doing a convention in Indianapolis. I want to see you there." I saw her, boy I'm telling you, I couldn't believe what I saw. It was definitely suicide. Somebody had to help her, somehow. And obviously, she wasn't going to the right people. Anyhow, I said to her, "I'm doing a convention two weeks from now, in St. Louis. And two weeks after...she also came to New York. She was obviously able to afford to come to these places. And this went on for two or three years. Maybe eighteen times. And all I did was talk positive things to her. And then all of a sudden, nothing. I didn't hear anything. I had no idea what was happening, because I never really saved her address. Eight years later, I get a letter saying, "I do want to thank you so much for what you did for me. Because I just got my Master's Degree in Electronic Engineering." You know, to me, that's the best thing I've ever done in my life. And it brings tears to my eyes every time I even talk about the story."

I don't have much to add to that. Every interview and message board response I've read about Mr. Doohan matches up with this story. A good man has been lost. May God bless Mr. Doohan and his family in this time of mourning. Christopher Meaux

James Doohan as "Scotty" in the final Star Trek feature film to feature the entire Original Series cast, Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country. Photo courtesty of http://www.trekpulse.com Click on the picture to see a larger version.




Tribute art created by Mr. Geoff "Ptrope" Edwards, moderator of the Trek Art forum of the Trek BBS. Geoff is one of the ridiculously talented guys over in the Trek Art forum who create some of the most beautiful computer-rendered sci-fi art you'll ever see. Head on over to http://www.trekbbs.com/threads/postlist.php?Cat=&Board=UBB20 to glimpse some truly othewordly work. Art used by permission, Geoff Edwards, 2005. Click the picture for a larger version.

For Whom the Bell Tolls: The Death of Comic Book Artist Jim Aparo

This quote, well-known to most, comes from John Donne's Meditation 17, part of his Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions: "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee..."

Yesterday, myself and countless other comic book fans across the globe were diminished by the death of Jim Aparo, who was an artist in the truest sense of the word. Jim Aparo, was born in 1932, and had a long and illustrious career in comic books. While it's true that Jim Aparo's name wasn't that well-known outside of comic book professional and fan circles, Jim Aparo's art is instantly recognizable to just about anyone who ever had a Batman lunch box or Underoo's. Chances are, if you ever saw any '80s Batman art on a sticker, a coloring book, a pair of Underoo's, a cereal box, or any other place, including a comic, it was an Aparo.

Mr. Aparo died yesterday at the age of seventy-two after complications resulting from a recent illness. He is survived by his wife Julie, his 3 children, his 4 Grandchildren and two step-grandchildren. Jim Aparo was a mostly self-taught artist. Throughout this entry, I'll be posting some of Mr. Aparo's best work. You'll be astounded to see that such art was produced by a man with very little formal art training. I am amazed particularly because I, like Jim, taught myself how to draw by reading and poring over comic books, though my art is nowhere near Jim's and is for my enjoyment alone.

Before I get into what Jim Aparo means to me, I'd like to share with you all something I found on a message board yesterday. A gentleman commenting on Mr. Aparo's death recalled that he had met the artist at a comic book signing right after the much-publicized "Death in the Family" storyline, which saw the death of Batman's sidekick, Robin. The storyline was the first true comic book stunt, and DC Comics allowed the readership to call in via a toll-free number to decide the fate of The Boy Wonder. Jim Aparo was the artists responsible for the pencil work on the storyline. The gentlemen I mentioned earlier was asked by Mr. Aparo what his vote had been for Robin, life or death. The man answered honestly that he'd voted for Robin to die. He and Mr. Aparo began to argue as the signing went on. Jim Aparo's opinion was that no one should ever wish the death of a person, especially if they hate that person. The man having his comics signed replied that the Robin character was snotty and annoying, but Mr. Aparo was adamant that wishing death on anyone was wrong.

I share this story to offer you a glimpse of the man who I have known all my life if only through his artwork. I began my love affair with comic books before I could read. I'd sneak into my brother's room and, with the deftness of The Batman himself, quietly slide open the cabinet where my brother kept his comics. I'd make sure no one was around, and then I'd sit and look at them. Later, I began to read them. As I grew older, I had to have my own, and thus began a love of the medium that endures to this day.

It's widely recognized in comic book circles that the three most beloved and well-known characters of all time are Superman, The Batman, and Spider-Man. I have long been a fan of all three of these characters, but The Batman has a special place in my heart. I own at least three hundred Batman comic books, not counting collections and one-shot stories. Of those three hundred issues, the majority are illustrated by Jim Aparo. Last night, still pensive about his death, I took out some of those old comics and was reminded of the joy that came with my youthful love of comics. A significant aspect of my love for comics is wrapped up in my love of comic, or as we prefer to call it in the genre, "sequential art." It's not just random drawings slapped together behind still more random drawings. It's sequential art because it tells a story in a way that no other medium can, not film, television, or books.

Jim Aparo was, at least for my generation, one of the "Big Two" Batman artists. There was Jim Aparo and there was Norm Breyfogle. Both are considered untouchable in my opinion. But Jim Aparo's work has a special place in my heart because his rendition of The Batman was the first I ever saw. Jim worked on Batman and on a team book called Batman and The Outsiders, which my brother was a big fan of. That's probably where I came to first appreciate Jim's work. That said, there was an issue of Batman the cover of which has remain seared in my mind's eye, so beautifully and powerfully was it rendered. For decades, I've wondered just what that issue was, as it belonged to my brother but has eluded me all these years. I've searched on the Web and in various other places and have found nothing. Until yesterday. While compiling cover art for a memorial thread for Jim Aparo that I started at a message board I frequent, I came across the image below.
When I laid eyes on it, I had to blink a few times to make sure I was really seeing what I was seeing. It really was that long-lost and unknown Batman comic, which had remained in my memory for most of my life. But the real kicker was that it was drawn by Jim Aparo.



This cover is one of the many reasons why I--we--are diminished by the death of Jim Aparo. I mean, just look at that cover! Go ahead, I'll give you another second to drink it in! It's simple and doesn't have that much intricate detail or action, but what's there is more expertly-crafted than the majority of the cover art you see on today's minimalist comic book covers. The action is clearly identifiable: The Batman is plunging to almost certain doom from the zeppelin above. There were a good number of ways this scene could have been portrayed, but it takes an artist like Jim Aparo to go at it from this angle and with this much power and drama.

That is what's so legendary, so brilliant about Jim's work. He's a talented draftsman and artist, yes, but he had a style that was unmatched by his peers. There aren't many artists in sequential art today whose work is instantly recognizable from afar. Nor is there anyone today who is as good a storyteller as Jim Aparo was. He could convey a range of emotions in a face make you wonder if he didn't spend all of his time looking at faces, getting a feel for how people looked and didn't look when they felt their feelings. Any honest artist will tell you that the face is the hardest part of the human body to draw. To be able to not only draw it well, but also, to infuse it with life and expression, is a rare and wonderful gift. Jim Aparo had that, and more.

Last night, I dug through my closet in the computer room my wife and I share at our home. I pulled out a box of old Batman comics and for an hour or so, marveled anew at the work of Jim Aparo. The smell that comic books once had, which came from the newsprint pages and the ink, wafted up to me and intoxicated me. But not nearly as much as the work of Jim Aparo, still vibrant, alive, and powerful after all these years. The truth is, there are other, far more important reasons why Jim Aparo was loved and appreciated. His family and friends are the receivers and guardians of those truths. But I'd like to think that, as an artist, Jim put some of that importance, the importance of life, into his work. I doubt any artist achieves success without putting themselves in their work. As you sample some of what I consider the best of Jim's cover art below, I think you can see how successful he was at his craft and in his life. Remember Jim Aparo and his family today in your thoughts and prayers.


Some of my favorite Jim Aparo art...

The Batman and Catwoman have both seen better days...

One of the iconic "hero no more" type covers often used on comic books. It takes a true artist like Aparo to make this kind of cover really work.

That's right, that's Jim Aparo on the cover! From a time when comics were a little more laid back than they are today...

Interior art from Batman: A Death in the Family, which saw the death of Robin The Boy Wonder at the hands of The Batman's archfoe, The Joker.

Cover art for the collected Death in the Family. Some of the most compelling and emotional art ever seen in comics history.

The Batman's back is broken by Bane, the first Batman villain to use brains and brawn to finally take out The Dark Knight. If only for a time...


Jim Aparo's first work on The Spectre, another DC character he put his stamp on...

The cover to The Brave and the Bold Art of Jim Aparo, which will be available in October and can be pre-ordered on Amazon.com.

Batman Begins Audio Review Part II

Batman Begins Audio Review Part I

Batman Begins: A Review

Good afternoon and welcome to the first audio edition of Ramblings. Because I don't have a lot of time to record this entry, I'll keep my review of Batman Begins short and sweet, both in the audio and written version.

To access the audio review, click the icon above this entry, dated June 16th, 2005. Otherwise, read on!

I could talk for hours about this new beginning for the Batman film franchise, but much of what I'd talk about would be lost on those of you who aren't comic book fans. So this review is for you casual viewers, who like Batman well enough but have never touched or maybe even seen a Batman comic book.

I'm not a believer in spoiling films or books or stories of any kind, so feel safe to keep listening or reading. The only thing you need to know about the plot of Batman Begins is that it is the first live-action Batman film to actually make the characters of Bruce Wayne and The Batman the core focus of the narrative. This movie delivers exactly what it proclaims in its title: Batman Begins. We watch the tragic story of Bruce Wayne unfold, as he travels along a dark and brutal road to become The Batman, dark scourge of the unjust.

I'll say only two more things about this story and the tone of the film. The narrative and the look, feel, and tone of Batman Begins is serious and grounded in reality. Not a stylized or slightly-different reality that we might see around us if we just squint a little, but a dark, gritty, and yet vibrant world that is indeed ours. Gotham City in Batman Begins is in fact Chicago, with some digital enhancements. The Batman's outfit, gear, mode of operation, and even the Batmobile are all grounded solidly in believably authentic contexts. I won't spoil how and why that is, but let me just say that at no point did I ever scratch my head and say, "Now really, there's no way that could exist."

Finally, the story of Batman Begins is fascinating and engrossing. I honestly can't say that about any of the other Bat-films, which were entertaining in a farcical or fantastic sort of way. Screenwriter David Goyer and director Christopher Nolan have woven a story about living, breathing people, who we not only understand but care about. During one of the early scenes of the film, detailing the tragedy that befalls Bruce Wayne's parents, I found myself tearing up a bit at the plight of young Bruce. The story of this film is that well-written and human. This is not a movie about over-the-top or gaudy villains and their meaningless histrionics. Batman Begins is about Bruce Wayne's emotional, physical, psychological, and spiritual journey to becoming The Batman. You will feel for him and for those close to him and even for those who are at odds with him.

Even though this film is centered on the story of Bruce Wayne and The Batman, there remains room for a brilliant and talented supporting cast. Liam Neeson brings wonderful life to Ducard, Bruce Wayne's mentor. Michael Caine finally plays an Alfred Pennyworth who has more to say and do than just ask obvious questions of the hero and fetch tea and sandwiches. Morgan Freeman shines as Wayne Enterprises employee Lucius Fox, who is instrumental in the birth of The Dark Knight.

For me, though, the real magic of Batman Begins was in Christian Bale's performance as Bruce Wayne and The Batman. For the first time on screen, Bruce Wayne is a complex and intriguing character. Bale brilliantly nuances the two Bruce Waynes, one the bored and laxadaisacal playboy fop, the other, the brilliant and driven young man in search of a means to fight injustice. As The Batman, Bale explodes with energy and might. His Batman voice is a harsh whisper at some times, while at other times it bursts into an angry and vicious growl. This change in tone is essential for this portrayal of The Batman, who we only get small glimpses of in action. The Batman is more a feral and stalking creature than superhero, filmed and played like the monster in the first “Alien” film. This is how The Batman was first conceived way back in the late 40’s, a terrifying and brutal creature of the night. Additionally, Batman is called “The Batman,” as I refer to him here, which is in fact the full name of the character. Adding the article before “Batman” provides a mystique and dangerous edge to the character, and I’m glad that the filmmakers made certain that our hero is called “The Batman” throughout the film.

The action in Batman Begins is exciting but not overly showy or pretentious. This movie is about characters and their struggles and triumphs, not ill-conceived set pieces that ultimately fall flat and reek of too much CGI fakeness and bombast. That said, know that you action lovers out there will be very satisfied with the intelligent and explosive action, which is well-paced throughout.

My only problems with the film will be slight to those of you who are not avid readers of The Batman’s comic book adventures. One of the elements often overlooked about the character is that he has a keen intellect to match his superb physical prowess. The Batman was, from day one, intended to succeed Sherlock Holmes as The World’s Greatest Detective. In my opinion, we should’ve seen Bruce Wayne learning the ways of detection alongside martial arts combat, and The Batman should’ve had to show the mettle of his brilliant mind in unraveling the wrongdoing of his enemies. The other problem I had was a minor one, concerning the weapon of the villain towards the end of the film. I felt that such a device was out of place in an otherwise realistic and gritty film, and feel it could’ve been replaced with the other predicament which befalls the good people of Gotham and their gallant protector. These are small complaints, however, and in no way detract from this film.

To sum up, I can’t recommend Batman Begins enough. There weren’t enough people in attendance at the showing I went to, but I think the early hour and the day contributed to the small numbers. So please, get out there this weekend and enjoy Batman Begins. The final moments of the film lay the foundation for a follow-up or two in a sequence ripped from one of the greatest Batman stories ever told. Let’s make sure we get to see that fantastic sequel in a few years. Thanks for listening and reading, Christopher Meaux, Ramblings


The Batman, finally portrayed on film as a terrifying creature of the night, shakes down corrupt cop Flass in an intense scene from Batman Begins.


The Master of Fear, The Scarecrow, one of the foes set to oppose The Dark Knight and destroy Gotham City in Batman Begins.

Why You Should Watch Yet Another Batman Movie

The Batman, or has he's more commonly known, just "Batman." The Dark Knight Detective. The Caped Crusader. Beloved since the Spring of 1939. Yeah, that's right. He's been around for almost seventy years. In countless incarnations through the decades, we've all come to know something about this enduring character. Billionaire Bruce Wayne, who watches, powerless, as a two-bit thug guns down his parents in cold blood, uses the dark fury, rage, and brokenness within himself to fuel a personal crusade that leads him across the world to discover a means of fighting the very evil that took his parents. At that journey's end is the discovery of a means to fight injustice and the birth of The Batman.

Thus, it's the journey from orphaned and devastated boy to Dark Knight that makes the newest Batman film worth seeing. By now, you've seen or heard something of this new film, entitled Batman Begins. And indeed, he does begin. This film, which many are labeling the "fifth" Batman movie, has absolutely NOTHING to do with the previous films, except, of course, The Batman and those familiar parts of his world that make their way into any incarnation of the character.

Thus, this is not a prequel, as the latest Star Wars films. It is a bona fide "reboot," as we say in the genre. It's a restart of the Batman film mythos. And as such, I believe it will succeed as no other Batman film--or superhero film, for that matter--has before. Batman Begins, unlike its predecessors, is grounded in reality as much as possible. I'm sure you all remember the previous Batman films. The old series, which is now quite dated and hard to re-watch, began with 1989's Batman, starring Michael Keaton and Jack Nicholson. The movie really should have been called "Joker," because Nicholson's ego demanded that The Joker outshine the guy they happened to name the film after. Though Batman '89 was, at the time of its release and for a time after, considered by most fans to be a good Batman movie, it was still never seen as a great Batman movie. The three sequels that followed sucked what goodness the first film had (and it wasn't that much) and destroyed the franchise. Batman Returns was dark for the sake of being dark and yet again made Batman a supporting cast member in his own world. Batman Forever was a little better, but yet again, even new Batman Val Kilmer couldn't make the character interesting enough to take center stage. Jack Nicholson II, a.k.a., Jim Carrey, stole the show in Forever with his over-the-top and now cringe-worthy performance as The Riddler.

Of course, the greatest insult to the legacy of The Batman was 1997's Batman and Robin. Folks, I've been a comic book reader all my life, and for almost all of that time, The Batman has been one of if not my favorite character. I never thought I'd walk out of a Batman movie. But in the middle of Batman and Robin, I had to. It was tough love. Had I realized the horror awaiting me, I'd have never even contributed to this travesty's box office with my cash. From George Clooney's bobble-head Batman, replete with Bat-credit card and Bat-ice skates, to Arnold Schwarzenneger's horrible one-liners and Alicia Silverstone's extremely annoying Batgirl, this film is worse than the contents of a pumped stomach after a visit to a Chinese buffet. If anyone tells you this film isn't that bad, they're quite right. It's unbelievably, almost impossibly, worse. We comic book and comic book movie fans continue to this day to refer to really bad comic-to-screen adaptations as "yet another Batman and Robin." Highly overrated Halle Berry's Catwoman is a more recent version of Batman and Robin, a comic book movie that says, "ah, screw the comic book. We just want to use the name".

Seriously, folks, it's because of Batman and Robin that we've gone almost a decade without a new Batman film. And that's just not right, because we're talking about The Batman here. He's extremely cool. Anyone of us could be a Batman or Batwoman. That's the allure of the character. Any of us could fall prey to great tragedy and decide to mold ourselves into something and someone new in the aftermath of loss. So, there's absolutely no reason why the Batman film franchise had to the way of Batman and Robin. Thankfully, tomorrow marks the release of Batman Begins. But why should you really care? Even if you aren't a Bat-purist like myself, you have to be alive and somewhat intelligent to be reading this. Thus, you had to be aware of the horror unfolding before you in "Batman and Robin." After watching that, you probably decided "Hey, I'm not a comic geek, so I don't really care about Batman beyond watching a movie anyway. And this movie stunk. So I don't care about Batman anymore."

I honestly don't blame you. But let me assure you, as a man who spends hours a day reading reports of the production and development of genre and comic book films, Batman Begins is worth your precious time and hard-earned coin. Let me just toss out some of the cast to you. Liam Neeson. Morgan Freeman. Gary Oldman. Three of the greatest dramatic actors of the last twenty years. And they're in a Batman movie. And they play it as straight as "Rob Roy," Se7en," and "Immortal Beloved," respectively. Add to that Ken Watanabe, (pronounced "wah-TAH-nah-be"), who many of you remember from his breakout role as Katsumoto from "The Last Samurai," who plays Ra's Al Ghul, one of the truly great if not popularly-known Batman comic villains, and Michael Caine as loyal butler and surrogate father Alfred Pennyworth, and you have an amazingly rich cast for a "comic book movie."

The real star of Batman Begins, however, is Christian Bale. He's been in a few small movies, like "American Psycho," Equilibrium," and "Reign of Fire." He's best known to horror and thriller fans because of "American Psycho." What's best about Bale is that he finally gives us The Batman we've never had. He's young, buff, and is an amazingly talented actor. His performance is critical to this film, which has sought since day one to make The Batman THE main character of the film. Who'd have thunk it, huh? Batman being the star of a movie with "Batman" in the title. But Christopher Nolan, who directed the excellent and ground-breaking "Memento" and the brilliant "Insomnia," starring Al Pacino and Robin Williams, didn't want to make a Batman film unless he could make one that made the audience care more about Batman than any other character. Screenwriter David Goyer, who wrote the popular "Blade" films, wrote the screenplay for Batman Begins and had the same goal in mind. Thus, we get a Batman movie that will give more screen and story time to the development of the Bruce Wayne character, and to the birth of The Batman. And as you'll see when I discuss this more in depth in tomorrow's review, this Batman is rooted in reality. The Bat-suit, gear, and the Batmobile itself don't just appear out of nowhere as mere plot devices. We'll see their origin and purpose, and learn where and how Bruce Wayne found these improbable machines and gadgets and re-tooled them for his crime-fighting purposes.

As mentioned previously, I will be viewing the first showing of Batman Begins here in Lafayette. I'll be writing a spoiler-free review for anyone interested in reading it. Thanks for reading. Meauxses


The new Batmobile, which in Batman Begins is a military vehicle "customized" by Bruce Wayne in his struggle against injustice as The Batman.



My favorite of the slew of Batman Begins posters. Batman Begins re-starts the Batman film franchise and opens tomorrow, June 15th, 2005.

Sith Happens: My review of the final Star Wars film, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith

It would seem that in these early days of the 21st century, fewer people raise an eyebrow in distaste when it comes to science fiction or "sci-fi" films. I know many people who are not self-confessed "fans" who greatly enjoy sci-fi, fantasy, and even comic book films these days.

I personally think that one of the main reasons for this mainstream acceptance of genre films is because of a little film that debuted almost thirty years ago, "Star Wars." There are not many people who haven't seen these films at least once. For as long as I can remember, I have been in love with Star Wars. I remember watching the first film at the tender age of four, though my memories of it are spotty at best. I have a better memory of "The Empire Strikes Back" and "Return of the Jedi," which I watched in the theater at the ages of four and seven, respectively. My brother and I were drenched in Star Wars, from countless action figures to bed sheets to Band-Aids to lunchboxes to PEZ dispensers. One Halloween, we donned Star Wars costumes from the local TG&Y. I was C3-PO and my brother was a Stormtrooper. By today's standards, those "costumes," which consisted of nothing more than a mylar poncho with the name of the character and its picture on the front, are quaint at best. But for my brother and me, they transformed us into those characters. Because we loved Star Wars.

And I have ever since. Yes, even 1999's "Episode I: The Phantom Menace" and 2003's "Episode II: Attack of the Clones." Many folks I've talked to find the first two prequel films to be lacking. I often hear the complaint "they're not like the originals." An understandable argument when made by a generation for whom the original films were modern myths, transmitting truths of good versus evil, heroism versus selfishness, and light versus darkness. But as a more than casual fan of Star Wars, I have to disagree with those fans looking for the prequels to be just like the originals.

Which is why it will come as no surprise that I was thoroughly entranced--and disturbed--by the sixth and final installment in the Star Wars saga, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. I watched the film this morning with a youthful and excited group of filmgoers at the Grand Theater here in Lafayette. The following is my review of the film. Let me warn you now that I am not a believer in "spoiling" movies or books for other people. I detest it when people do that to me and so I will not do it to you. I will, however, address the quality of the film, its story, and whether or not the young Jedi hopefuls in your life should be taken along to see it.

In many of the countless interviews he's done since deciding to return to the Star Wars universe in 1999, George Lucas has referred to the six-film Star Wars saga as one twelve-hour movie. He's also likened the saga to a single poem comprised of six stanzas or parts. As all of us know, very few stanzas of a poem mean much outside of the context of the other stanzas. So it is with each Star Wars film when seen outside of their accompanying trilogies. Many have complained that the first two prequels were boring and uninteresting. But that's because those people have looked at the prequels individually, instead of seeing them as part of their particular trilogy and of the overall poem that is the Star Wars saga. And that was hard to do, without being able to see the third stanza. With today's release of Revenge of the Sith, the poem--and the saga--is complete. Two days ago, I began my own "Six Days of Star Wars," the plan being to watch a film a day. Thus it was that I went into Revenge of the Sith today well-versed in the first two prequels.

I highly recommend that you rent and watch "The Phantom Menace" and "Attack of the Clones" before watching "Revenge of the Sith." While the film can be watched without the other two films, think "entire poem" here and go watch 'em. Revenge of the Sith is an amazing entry into the Star Wars saga, and a more than fitting end to the "twelve-hour movie" that Lucas began in 1977. This movie, perhaps more than any other in the series, has had the most pressure on it to deliver. For Episode III had to show us how the Republic becomes the evil Empire, what became of the Jedi knights, and most importantly, how Anakin Skywalker, father to Luke and Leia, falls completely do the dark side of the Force and becomes everyone's favorite baddie, Darth Vader.

Revenge of the Sith more than delivers on all counts, though it still leaves room for fertile imaginations to piece together the intervening two decades between sagas. The film starts as Jedi knights Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker fight in the final, major battle of the Clone Wars, which began in Episode II, aptly-named "Attack of the Clones." The conflict has torn the galaxy asunder for three years, during which time both of our heroes have become known as legendary warriors. Anakin and Obi-Wan's valiant efforts bring the war to an end, but the Separatists second in command, the cyborg General Grievous, escapes. Obi-Wan's mission is to find the general and prevent him from continuing the conflict, while Anakin is tasked by the Jedi Council to discover the true agenda of Chancellor Palpatine, who is the leader of the Republic. Both heroes' missions toss them headlong on disparate paths which ultimately make them the characters we know them to be in Episode IV: A New Hope. When those paths intertwine one final time, the results are horrible and tragic.

Which brings me to the warning I think many casual Star Wars viewers need to be given: this movie is dark, grim, tragic, and even disturbing. I'm not easily disturbed, but this movie managed to make me cringe more than a few times with sadness and disgust. The special effects are amazing, bringing worlds and settings to life that are far grander than anything seen in the other Star Wars films. The fight scenes and battles are remarkably done, and both Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda are shown to be the most skilled and, dare I say, "bad-ass" Jedi in the entire Star Wars saga. But none of the eye-candy takes away from the story, which is well-written and acted. And no amount of lightsaber duels and blaster shoot-outs can diminish the terrible events that befall those whom we've come to care about in the prequel trilogy: Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padme, Yoda, Mace Windu, and yes, even good ol' 3-P and R2.

Giving vibrant and wonderful life to these roles and the hellish chaos they're cast against are returning actors Hayden Christensen (Anakin Skywalker), Ewan McGregor (Obi-Wan Kenobi), Natalie Portman (Padme Amidala-Skywalker), Sir Ian McDiarmid (Chancellor Palpatine), Frank Oz (Yoda), and, returning for one last time to Star Wars, James Earl Jones, providing the voice of Darth Vader. The stand-out performances for me belonged to Christensen's Anakin, McGregor's Obi-Wan, McDiarmid's Palpatine, Portman's Padme, and Frank Oz's Yoda. Each one of these actors brought these characters to life in new ways, effectively completing them as the saga draws to a close. Personally, I though McGregor and McDiarmid stole the show as Obi-Wan and Palpatine, respectively, but that's just me. Obi-Wan Kenobi has always been one of my two favorite Star Wars characters, both in the prequels and the originals, Darth Vader being the other favorite. McGregor really makes us love and feel for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and we get the sense of the sadness of the character that Sir Alec Guinness brought to the elder Obi-Wan in the original trilogy. And Ian McDiarmid, who George Lucas almost didn't hire, is hands-down THE greatest movie villain of all time. Maybe I'm just gushing, but the man is extremely talented, playing the two roles he's given in the film with equal gusto and strength. You won't see a more diabolical or fiendish bad guy this summer. He gives Hannibal Lecter a run for his money!

By now, you must be wondering, "do we get to see enough of Vader?" Well, I'll say this: Anakin becomes Vader fairly early on in the film, but the Vader we're more familiar with comes along a little later. Confused? Don't worry, you'll get it, and now you have something to ponder before the film. Darth Vader is truly terrifying and evil in this film, though you get the sense that Anakin is doing what he thinks is right. This makes his fall all the more heart-breaking. Speaking of breaking, should you take your child to see this? Should you go see this if you're squeamish? Well, Revenge of the Sith is rated PG-13 for a reason. It's sad to say that many kids in today's violence-saturated culture see worse than this film shows in video games and on television, but that shouldn't deter you from thinking twice about taking the kiddies to see this movie. There are a lot of decapitations, limbs are cut off left and right, and there's a lot of murder. And what becomes of Anakin at the film's climax is unsettling to say the least. I'm not exaggerating when I say that this film takes our heroes into Hell itself, a planet of lava called Mustafar. The place is black and red, roiling with lava and death. It is here that some of the most disturbing imagery is seen in the film. Is it anything kids haven't seen today? Probably not, but it's a safe bet they've never seen it in a Star Wars film. Be sure to let them know there are some scenes where it's okay for them to hide their faces or cover their eyes.

To sum up, Revenge of the Sith is an excellent ending to the Star Wars saga. Its story is tragic and horrific, but the requisite Star Wars battles and otherworldly vistas are there perforce. That said, there's a level of violence and darkness that your tiny Star Wars fans may not be used to, so consult your personal Force before letting them see the film. Finally, I thought I'd end by letting you all know a little about the future of Star Wars. Sadly, George Lucas has said that Revenge of the Sith is the last Star Wars film. But he's recently revealed that two years hence, a live-action Star Wars television series will debut, chronicling the adventures of the fledgling Rebel Alliance in the wake of the birth of the Empire in Revenge of the Sith. So though we will likely never see our favorite Star Wars characters again, Lucas is gearing up to give us some new adventures and new heroes. I for one am excited about weekly Star Wars with "real people," as we said as kids. It can't get here soon enough. May the Force be with you! Obi-Wan Kemeauxbi





Obi-Wan Kenobi and former apprentice Anakin Skywalker do battle against a hellish backdrop in THE lightsaber duel to end lightsaber duels in Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. Image courtesy of Star Wars.com

The End of an Era: A Trek Through the Stars Is Over

Today is Friday, May 13, 2005.

For many, today will be only vaguely memorable.

For me, and for a few others like me, today marks the end of a happy part of my life.

Today is the end of the phenomenon known 'round the world as Star Trek.

To be fair, the general audience's knowledge (let's say that's anyone who isn't a "Trekker"), Star Trek disappeared long ago. Most young people today don't know who Captain Kirk or Spock is, much less Captain Picard or the captains that followed him. To say nothing of having EVER seen the episodes that featured those characters. I'll be realistic and honest here. Star Trek, at least in the sense of the zeitgeist or general consciousness, has been out of sight and thus, out of mind, for some time.

But to those like myself, who know our Datas from our Odos and Archers from our Picards, today is a hard day. A sad day. Hello, I'm Christopher Meaux. I'm a Star Trek fan. A Trekker, or Trekkie. Whatever you want to call me. Sounds like a support group meeting, eh? The fact is, I am a fan of--a lover of, even--of Star Trek.

William Shatner, who many of you "regular folk" know from TJ Hooker, Rescue 911, Boston Legal, and yes, maybe even his little role as Captain James T. Kirk, once said in a Saturday Night Live skit: "It's just a TV show. Get a life." That skit was poking good-natured fun at me, and those like me. The really hardcore, intense Trekkers. The people who maybe aren't so sure sometimes that Trek isn't real. Or that it couldn't or shouldn't maybe become real. Honestly, as those who know me will attest, I'm not that zealous a Trek fan. I have some DVDs, a lot of books, some action figures, and a few model starships. And I've even written my own Star Trek adventures for my amusement.

But make no mistake, I love Star Trek.

Why, you ask? I guess the armchair psychologist, fresh from a viewing of Dr. Phil or Oprah, would say it's because my big brother used to watch Star Trek with me when I was a kid. As any younger sibling knows, what the older sibling does or likes is extremely cool. And to become cool, all that younger kid has to do is like what the older kid does. It's simple kid economics. My brother Jarrod, who's currently serving our country in Iraq, introduced me to the wonderful and at the time, somewhat frightening, Star Trek universe. We'd watch the reruns of the original Star Trek, with Captain Kirk and Spock. "Beam me up, Scotty!" and all that. And we watched the Star Trek movies. Many of you at least remember the one with Khan, played by Ricardo Montalban. You know, Mr. Roarke from "Fantasy Island." Yeah, that one.

My brother was seven years older than me, and quickly grew into more adolescent interests, though he still watched Trek when he wasn't out on dates or working. But for me, the journey had just begun. I was ten years old when "Star Trek: The Next Generation" debuted in 1987. I'd been excited for months about this show, which I'd read about in newspapers and magazines. (In the dark times, before the Internet...) I thought this new show was going to have Kirk and the gang in it, and I was thrilled. But then I learned it was going to be completely new, taking place eighty years after Kirk's Enterprise sailed the spaceways. I was a little disappointed, but still excited. New Star Trek was going to be on every week! Oh boy! When the show debuted, I was floored. It was beyond anything I could've imagined. TNG, as it's called in Trekker shorthand, coupled with new feature film adventures of the original crew, sealed the deal for me. I was a bona fide, dyed-in-the-wool Star Trek fan.

For the next seven years, I watched not only TNG, but the spin-off set on an alien space station called "Deep Space Nine" DS9, as we Trekkers call it, was also great to me, so I added it to my list of must-see Trek. As the nineties began, I watched the original cast of Star Trek say their goodbyes in the sixth and final Star Trek film to feature them all together. I also watched as TNG and DS9 developed and boldly went where none had gone before. When I began college, another Star Trek series, Voyager, debuted on a channel I couldn't catch in my dorm. So for three years, I only read about Voyager. But I watched the TNG films and continued to watch DS9, and was reading as many Trek books as I could.

To make a long story short, let me bring you up to today. To the end. Four years ago, a fifth Star Trek series, simply titled "Enterprise," premiered on UPN, a channel I'm sure many of you don't watch. I was excited about this new series for a number of reasons: it starred Scott Bakula, who I always liked on "Quantum Leap" (you know, the guy who jumped from person to person trying to get back to the future?), it was going to be set during a simpler time, one hundred years before Kirk and one hundred and fifty years from our time, and finally, because it was filled with potential. Talented, youthful actors. Some of the most expensive special effects in television. Good orchestral scores. And best of all, it was Star Trek. Sadly, "Enterprise" never caught on with the general populace, nor with many die-hard Trekkers. Sagging ratings and competition from other forms of entertainment and types of television programming, along with poor management on the part of the production staff behind the show, led to its untimely demise. Enterprise was cancelled. Two years ago, the last TNG film flopped at the box office. So here we are now. Star Trek is dead both on television and on film.

Why does this matter? To some of you, it may not at all. After all, it is "just a television show." To me, though, Star Trek was an escape from the struggles of life as an overweight kid in a small town. It was exciting and entertaining storytelling. It was fun. But above all of these, it was one man's dream that one day, despite ourselves, we will overcome war, disease, poverty, racism, and hatred. A vision of how we could be better in spite of our brokenness and flaws. That man was Gene Roddenberry. I won't go into details about Gene's life or who he was or wasn't. I'll let some of his words speak for him:

"I have nothing but admiration for this silly race of ours. Even with the Hitlers in it and so on. Sometimes it goes into ugliness, but, in all though, it is a beauty. It's like a rose, which also has thorns. We're something."

Let that sink in for a bit. It's an amazing, maybe even ludicrous kind of statement. But it's a beautiful dream nonetheless. Star Trek resonated with me because it told me that "yes, Chris Meaux, even though you're ridiculed or disliked based on appearance or other foolish reasons, there are those who will appreciate you based on the content of your character. There is a hope, Star Trek taught me, that you can be accepted and appreciated, even celebrated, because of your differences. Because you are a unique and irreplaceable human being." How many other TV shows can boast this kind of lesson, this kind of deep and abiding moral? A dream that only fools would say they don't share.

And Star Trek also taught me the value, the inestimable gift, of the journey. Of boldly going. Going where, you might ask? Going anywhere. Anywhere but where you've been, going beyond yourself and your limitations. Going into the "undiscovered country" as Shakespeare said, the unknown and mysterious land that is the human experience. As my friends and family can attest to, I have always loved the journey. The boldly going. As soon as I was old enough to drive and received a car, I went wherever I could, whenever I could. I wanted to experience everything that I'd never known before, even if that was a town or a city that other people knew about and took for granted. Star Trek taught me to boldly go where I had never gone before.

I've been on a lot of journeys, inward and outward. I've learned a lot about myself and the world around me, and the God responsible for all of it. And through all of that, through the years of struggle and self-discovery and, dare I say it, enterprise, Star Trek has been with me. It has been a comforting place to go when life has been unfamiliar and difficult. It has emboldened me to push on, to press on, to keep dreaming and hoping. I am a Catholic Christian, and I've struggled hard and long for the faith I daily treasure. So I know the difference between a television show and a religion, between fiction and faith.

That said, I'm reminded of a line in the Eucharistic Prayer of the Catholic Mass: "From God, through whom all good things come." Essentially, all good has as its source God. And God is the source of all things. Thus, all good comes from God and is sustained by God. As crazy as it may sound, the good that a crazy little television show named Star Trek has to offer is from God. That would seem, to quote Mr. Spock, "quite logical." So tonight, as Star Trek Enterprise goes off the air for good, I mourn the loss of something that has been with me since my childhood. I have watched Star Trek all my life, and for the last eighteen years of my life, there has been a new Star Trek episode every week, whether it was Star Trek The Next Generation, Star Trek Deep Space Nine, Star Trek Voyager, or Star Trek Enterprise.

After tonight, there will be no more Star Trek. Paramount, the company that produces Star Trek, cancelled Enterprise. They've made it clear that there will be no more Star Trek for a long time, if ever again. Let it be known that, though many said Enterprise was no good, it was a fantastic and enjoyable addition to the Star Trek mythology. In fact, Star Trek and Star Trek Enterprise are my favorite Trek series. Scott Bakula and the wonderful cast of Jolene Blalock, Connor Trineer, Linda Park, Anthony Montgomery, Dominic Keating, and John Billingsley, did an amazing job in their roles. They are extremely talented actors and I wish them the very best in the bright futures I know they have ahead of them.

Tonight marks the end of Star Trek for those of us for whom Star Trek was more than just a goofy television show with funky aliens and cool spaceships. For us, a mythology ends tonight, one that has taught us much about morality, goodness, virtue, equality, honor, justice, peace, and goodness. A show that even taught a lot of us about science, art, music, literature, and culture. A show that was based on Gene Roddenberry's dream of a future better than our present, a dream we Trekkers all shared with Gene. Though the mythology that grew out of that dream dies tonight, I know that the dream still lives. And it will continue to live, no matter what kind of new and different Star Trek is created in the future. Gene's dream has shaped lives, inspiring astronauts, scientists, pilots, doctors, teachers, lawyers, and countless others. That dream will continue to shape those who allow themselves to dream it, who dare to boldly go where they have never gone before.



"Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning."

Whoa Begone

Saturday, April 16th, 2005

"Whoa Begone!"

Greetings yet again from the lovely land of Youngsville, Louisiana. The weather here today was quite beautiful. Perfect for being outside. Except that I decided to go and see a film that I'd long hoped would one day be made, "Sin City," based on the comic books of the same name that I read in high school.

It was excellent, but I'd rather not get into a film review here. Let me just say it's definitely worth the price of admission. One caveat: if you're in any way squeamish when it comes to violence and bloodshed, avoid this film. Or, at the very least, close your eyes when you think something's about to happen you'd rather not see. For those of you who, like me, love dark, gritty, crime drama, this movie is for you. You'll love it as much as I did. And when you consider that it was made entirely against a green screen with the use of only minimal foreground props, you'll be amazed. I knew this going in and never noticed. It's an amazing achievement and I really think it's where films are headed.

Moving on to the topic at hand, which is related to the cinematic experience I had today. I substitute taught one class at Lafayette High this morning before going to the film. As most of you know, LHS is only a few blocks away from The Grand, the only theater in the area with true stadium seating and quality digital surround sound. (That's not a plug, just a fact.) I left LHS around a quarter to one and was in the Grand parking lot a full forty minutes before the film started. I purchased my ticket and spent the thirty minutes I had left after visiting the restroom sitting in dim, air-conditioned bliss. No wonder summer movies are so damned popular. That half hour before the film was relaxing and serene. Damn night perfect except for one thing...

...the "music" playing before the trailers began.

I will attempt to describe this as best as I can, though I'm sure you're all familiar with this. A picture of tantalizing concessions will come on the screen, accompanied by "la la la la la la la la la la, oh whoa whoa whoa."
Let's go over that again for the folks in the back. "La la la la la la la la la la, oh whoa whoa whoa."

What gives with this? "Oh whoa whoa whoa?" The hell?! You're telling me that out of the nonsense syllables readily available to any composer/songwriter, "oh whoa whoa whoa" was the best they could do? I mean, "oh whoa. whoa. whoa.?" How does a singer even sing that with a straight face? My God. It's terrible. What's worse is that it's like that damn "She's a Barbie Girl" song from years back. IT JUST KEEPS PLAYING IN YOUR MIND.

OH WHOA WHOA WHOA. OH WHOA WHOA WHOA. It's...it's nightmarish, really.

I'm no musician, and I'm sure it's hard to come up with this stuff sometimes, but please. How about "la la la la la la la (you get the picture)...do doobie doobie doo?" That's much more acceptable. It's jazzy. It's funny. Reminds the kiddies of Scooby Doo. Everybody wins. And really, isn't that what we all want when we go to the movies?

I have a veritable plethora, a bona fide myriad of film-related topics I will ramble about here. But that's it for today. Thanks for reading, Meauxses