#these are some of da funniest comics i ever saw

[animesickos]

OUT NOW: Shevvy from the incredible comedy sensation Crawfish Comic goes guesto mode! We go nuts over how much we like Shevvy's work, and they explain the ethos and philosophy that leads to comics where a whale says "im a whale and even i think this is crasy." Culture today is a diseased mutant thing and Crawfish Comic is a beacon of purity and it kicks ass, this ep rules pictured: realistic scene of da recording process (microphones removed due to artistic license)

[a-room-with-a-mew]

SCOOP by Evelyn Waugh

‘The funniest novel ever written about journalism’… I don’t know; is it just me or does this not really sell it? Is journalism a natural place we go to for laughs? I mean.. Yeah, there are comic-features writers, and journos who write books and scripts and maybe even do stand up. But in terms of fiction, of stories, I’d almost always think of journalism as high drama, a noble pursuit like in All the President��s Men or Superman. Waugh is interested in hackism. Okay he is indulging in a little self-parody here, as a writer himself, but for quite a time, this book feels like a long in-joke, a nudge to a colleague. While it works well as a series of jokes, sketches, and odd-ball characters in crazy situations, the fact that this is a novel means that we are invited to rest our feet upon the rocky conceit of a war in a far-off, fictional foreign land, which may or may not reflect a real war/ place. And additionally, as the place and people aren’t real, only ‘inspired by’, Waugh can say whatever he bally likes about them with impunity. A bit like The Life of Brian, only well – not as funny! Tall order though of course.

Let’s dive in. I managed to stick with and read SCOOP on my third attempt after owning the novel for years. Like a lot of books, the cover mystifies. Who are these? Mrs Stitch presumably? There’s only two watery female characters in the book so must be her. She doesn’t figure much so the cynic in me thinks the publishers are attempting to glam up the story.. With her fur and hat and the moody black and white. Reminds me of an edition of Brideshead I saw once in a shop – the cover had a cartoon slinky flapper girl – the hat, the stole, elbow-length gloves, cigarette holder, diamonds and whatnot. Missing the point a bit I think! So! Here we have two snoots getting on a plane. This doesn’t happen in the book. Natch.

Story

Likely the appeal or not of this story will depend upon whether you like action / adventure stories and seek thrills and fantastic places and daring endeavours. Of course you do! Well, I don’t. Or at least – I don’t tend to read them. Give me Indiana Jones on the big screen – but I don’t know if I’d read Alexander Fleming or the da Vinci Code (again). In the books I read, people tend to sit around thinking, or drive thinking, or potter around the kitchen, thinking, or fall in love but not realize it or declare it, or holiday and develop the self, but very subtly, or befall intensely personal disasters,  make human connexions that you have to squint to see.

Suffice to say I loved, say, A Handful of Dust to distraction. Brilliant book. What actually happened? What was the plot? Ahm… Well.. Hard to describe, the slow, tragic dissolution of a marriage. That makes it sound boring. It isn’t!! SCOOP kind of is, and yet the action doesn’t let up for a paragraph.

Waugh – probably joyfully – breaks the golden rule of writing by NOT introducing his main character in the first page / chapter. Tries to fox us, he does. Very clever – in fact the whole book is, very clever: maybe that’s why it left me behind in the dust. Okay, so though some administrative cock-up, our hero, William Boot - a very sheltered country-squire sort who generally never leaves his decaying mansion full of ancient relatives – he’s never described physically, but go ahead and imagine the plus-fours, Norfolk jacket, pristine boots, hunting hat, moustache - finds himself sent, as a foreign correspondent, to a war-torn country of which he has never heard. Promising premise.  

What follows is William’s whirlwind adventure of being summoned to his new post, preparing to go to Africa, complete with the bare essentials - collapsible boat and hockey-sticks and back-street passports. Everything is charged back to the paper – The Beast – and so there is a real consumer-fetish going on here too! As William is one of those old-fashioned toffs who own great estates but are somehow stony broke.

Much of the novel is taken up with travelling – to this fabled Ishmaelia, which was initially founded by an American family called the Jacksons, and various in-fighting and coups have taken place within the dynasty for generations. Now they’re out of power, and socialism is threatening to sneak in via the Russians. I do believe? And there’s much interest in this particular country from other well-to-do nations. Of course this doesn’t come about for a while, and for most of the mission, William wanders around hearing snippets and spending the paper’s money. Is Waugh indulging in a little revenge fantasy? William is incapable as a journalist, but just happens to be in the right place at the right time and know the right people, and comes through with the climactic glory of the story – not the exposure of the truth, but a good story with lots of COLOUR.

Characterization

Okay well, as I’ve mentioned somewhere, Waugh is not a writer whose strongest suit is characterization – it’s his writing, wording that shines, and we’ll get to that in a minute. And yet the characters are the reason we generally love a story, no? Or at least – if you are interested in the human psyche, the intricacies of human relations, the effect of surroundings upon the humans therein. But for Waugh, his love is words and the ways he can string them beautifully: he sees the novel "not as an investigation of character, but as an exercise in the use of language.” An exercise! Like you do at school.

William Boot, the protagonist, is so wan and inconsequential that his mistaken namesake is introduced first, and more memorably. He reminds me of Paul Pennyfeather from Decline and Fall – he is only there to go along with the plot, adding nothing to it with his own input, but only to observe the zany characters around him. And Paul annoyed me so much! The way the others were breaking curfew in college, and Paul blandly took the blame without a fight. And he floats through the rest of it. Although William differs from Paul in one way – though William is rather pushed into this job, and takes the glamour and action in his stride, he retains a strong and immovable affection for his dreary old homestead, and that is the true love of the story – his affection for the country-side and desire to walk “feather-footed through the plashy fen.” William says no – and he’s such a blah character that it truly surprises and delights when he does.

At one stage he purports to be in love with a woman – she does him out of a load of money and a boat, in which he helps her and her husband escape. It’s not as noble as it sounds! Each and every character in this story is out for themselves. If they can’t see past their nose, why ought we invest?

SCOOP has memorable caricatures – larger-than-life, humorous, and distinctive, but they are there to portray ideas, not to have their own agency and accountability and foibles. They run around building and holding in place Waugh’s ideas, they exist to show the deftness of his pen, they are satire, they are text.

Writing

Brilliant as always, and makes the reader wish that Waugh’s themes and characters were as wonderful and satisfying as his prose.

“The immense trees which encircled Boot Magna Hall, shaded its drives and rides, and stood (tastefully disposed at the whim of some forgotten, provincial predecessor at Repton), singly and in groups about the park, had suffered, some from ivy, some from lightening, some from the various malignant disorders that vegetation is heir to, but all principally from old age. Some were supported with trusses and crutches of iron, some were filled with cement; some, even now, in June, could show only a handful of green leaves at their extremities. Sap ran thin and slow; a gutsy night always brought down a litter of dead timber.”

Now who else is going to describe a group of trees so well? Not only are they so very clear to picture, he has given them history, and in doing the history of the house, the family, and possibly the decaying aristocracy itself. I bet the fields are thick with meadowsweet and all!

Waugh has lots of fun with the journalistic jargon; the idea that an article must have news, but to sell, it must have colour – love that term: it must have some literary merit, some artistic verve, really appeal to the reader. Elsewhere William keeps getting increasingly frantic and mysteriously coded cables from the newspaper offices in London, going to despair because he’s not providing any stories he promised and running up enormous bills. Finally he manages: “Please don’t worry quite safe and well in fact rather enjoying things weather improving will cable again if there’s any news Yours Boot.” And later “Nothing much has happened except the president who has been imprisoned in his own palace.” The downplaying is so dry and delightful. I wish I knew what was going on. Maybe that’s the point!

[charactersadvocatechimata]

Blood Is Not The Only Game In Town

Natasha, having nothing better to do this evening, has found themselves making a game of ‘what is the pervert after.’ Again. Most likely, he's been aiming for their chest, not as if the man in questions has made much progress but the general swing of those paws and his almost focused eyesight at their chest are good indicators. Of course, the way they are leaning against the bar with their hips out, the target could be their ass. It is a fine ass.

Currently, it’s the bonus round: is he aware that his attempts at stilted conversation in no way hide his true purpose. His random laughing at what, they assume, are supposed to be jokes, not squashed alphabet soup, implies that no he does not.

After some more jokes, something finally seems to click in that booze drowning noggin of his, as the man straightens and furiously blinks at them. “So da you a girl or a boi?”

There is no suppressing the quirk of their sultry sangria painted lips, because this part, this is the part where they get to put on a bit of a show. They widen their smile into a predatory grin showing off a pair of pearly fangs. “Neither. I’m a vampire.”

(Cut. Mobile Beware.)

There is the polite pause for the punch line because a vampire existing in reality always seems to short circuit most mortals brain. Something that exists that humanity never seems to comprehend. An impossibility, their brain always reasons. Yet the man has lost the patience for that some bottles ago and instead just scrunches his nose.

“Iss joke?”

“Wanna test that theory and step out for a bite?” They softly snap their teeth driving in the point and giggle when he rapidly shakes his head, backs up, missing the stool and falling flat on his butt. Yet they hardly snort at the man’s comic retreat because that brings them back to the reason they entered the bar in the first place. Boredom.

When the Thirteenth offered to turn them all that filled their mind was the power that would be gain, the possibility of flight, and the only noteworthy side-effect was losing the ability to eat. Not that food was ever a major priority for them, and they do prefer blood. It’s both quick and efficient. But the boredom. The boredom. Damn him for never mentioning the fucking boredom.

“Please Ty. I don’t want too.”

Natasha tipped their head, trying to filter out the crap for that nugget of something-fucking finally- interesting. Maybe a fight. Not that they would ever start a bar fight on purpose.

“Really, you are such a fucking embarrassment, Anthony.”

Their sight jumps from face to face, but there is nothing but gawkers and drunkards everywhere. Useless fuckers existing only to block their view of the sight. The only thing to do is stand on a table.

“I don’t care Ty. I don’t care. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the girls that prance in and out of our apartment. Sick of the boys you fuck in our bed. But mostly I’m sick of you.”

Natasha hears a strike, and it attracts more gawkers to the scene, acting as a path for Natasha to follow.

“You worthless slut. You don’t get to talk down to me. We are leaving.”

“No! I’m not going home with you.”

There. In the corner of the room, slowly being surrounded by flesh clumps drawn to the same spectacle Natasha was, a mop of dark hair and brown eyes that almost glowed goldenly. Anthony, if they heard the name correctly, held himself taut, with his shoulder near his head but his eyes told a different story. His eyes remained defiant even as small, possible only perceived by a creature like themself, shudders shook his small frame.

“Ty. Let go. Please.”

This time the hit isn’t just a sound they picked from the crowd. Now it’s the reddening of his cheek, the iron tang smell of blood, and the smaller mortal refusing to back down. Something in that moment struck a chord within Natasha. They found a strange desire to be an actor in this ridiculous farce. It is the only reason they figured for why their in front of “Anthony” and the attacker is slumped against a wall. The wall that may have a small crack. Oops.

The crowd is apparently not as drunk as Natasha had guesstimated. Because several of the onlookers are showing beginning signs of panic. And really, they do not want to deal with those SHIELD nimrods. Clint was fine and sometimes Coulson, but they weren’t always that lucky. Mostly they’re never that lucky.

“Come. We need to leave.”

Anthony must be in shock or something. His eyes still have that ‘trapped in the light’ look. Also, blinking. A fair amount of blinking. Huh. Natasha had kinda forgotten that humans did that. They huff. More and more phones are being pulled out, although people usually take pictures sometimes there is that one square that will inevitably call the police.

They don’t even stop to think before their arm is securely wrapped around Anthony’s chest, backflipping out the window (maybe it was a wall) shielding him from the glass and running down towards the park near their apartment. Under Natasha’s least hated tree, they dumb the boy onto the grass. He still doing that dazed blinking thing.

“Anthony? You okay? Should I steal something for you?”

“Tony. Don’t call me Anthony. Or Mr. Stark. Please. I just- No. Okay.”

Tony has curled into one of the smallest balls Natasha has ever seen. It reminds them of a kitten abandoned by its mother. They are rather fond of cats. But Tony isn’t a pet. He is a wild animal and needs to go home. They nudge their foot against Tony’s leg. He flinches. They bite the inside of their cheek. “Can I walk or carry you home?”

He laughs. And laughs. The pitch dancing wildly around them. Ending with a hitched breath and a soft sob. “I live with the bastard. I- I don’t have anywhere to go. I’ve been abandoned. By everybody.” There is another soft sob from Tony. “Isn’t that the funniest thing you ever heard?”

“No.”

“No? Do you pity me then?”

“No. I’ve been abandoned too. It happens.”

Tony uncurls from his ball. His eyes are wet from the tears that are still silently rolling down his face. Natasha's impressed. They didn’t think that it was possible for someone to cry while making no sound. They never managed that. All they could do was bury it all. Even the metaphorical bleeding.

He pushes himself up, sitting on his knees. The iron is back in those Bambi eyes, and Natasha finds themself genuinely curious to hear what the mortal will say. “Could you please do me a favor?”

They purse their lips and bunch their eyebrows even as they tingle in anticipation. “It depends. The devil is in the details.”

“True,” Tony smirks. “My son is back at the apartment. Could you please help me save him? I cannot abandon him. I will not abandon him.”

Not quite what they were expecting. Maybe a little revenge. Some maiming would have been fun. But a child. What a surprise. Natasha hadn’t figured Tony as the child rearing type. Nor that he was even old enough to have his own. “Isn’t sixteen a little young to be having a baby?”

“I’m twenty-one.” He bites and huffs and pouts. “And my kid is three, almost four, thank you very much.”

Natasha smiles offering a hand for Tony to lift himself up. They figured no more surprise. What were the chances that the same mortal would surprise them, not twice but three times? But damn. Was Dum-E, Tony’s only son, one hell of a surprise. They might have cursed a little, inside their head of course, when Tony made the introductions. But he didn’t have to know that.

Although, Natasha would never have considered a giant metal arm to be anyone’s child. Tony insisted that it had some form of artificial intelligence. And they had seen books about the concept. Yet artificial intelligence had always sounded a little too much like a conman’s newest game.

They had even spent an entire moment considering if Tony’s whole night was some trick, a misguided attempt to find the Thirteenth, but Natasha had never seen or heard so much love before. Tony loved Dum-E fiercely. You’d have to be incredibly stupid or oblivious or both to miss it. He cooed at the arm, petted it like it was alive, and talked it through it’s ‘anxiety’ as they loaded into a stolen van.

Driving to their apartment, Natasha had only asked if the metal arm really understood what was happening and what Tony was saying. That prompted him to launch a lecture regarding modern technology, computers, and artificial intelligence. They understood nothing, not even where to nod. But Tony was in some far off world and hardly noticed.

Probably not a trick.

@@@

“Okay. Fine. But did ya have to bring the two strays here? To our real apartment.”

Natasha rolls their eyes. “Tony and Dum-E are not strays. They’re my new cats.”

“They are wild animals.”

“That I’ve domesticated. You’ll love the both of them. Dum-E likes to play fetch, and Tony has the most beautiful purr.”

“No, Natasha.”

They pout. Tilting their head in a way they know most perceive as fragile. Probably is that the two of them have known each other far too long. In the end, all they get for their trouble is a snort and a roll of his hand indicating for them to move the act along. “You got both Steve and Sam. I don’t see why I can’t have my Tony and Dum-E.”

“That’s different. And you know that Natasha.” He scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “And Sam is not my anything. Steve picked that one up all on his own. Fucking bird brain.”

“So Steve gets his pet, and I don’t.”

“It’s too dangerous.” He growls low and demanding. He tries to use his position as their “Father.” There isn’t anything they can do against him. But that doesn't stop them from letting the red bleed into their eyes covering the color they’ve had since birth, an unusually glowing green color.

His eyes flinch away. There is always so much guilt when they transform their eyes. Some sort of reminder that Natasha never understood. Why turn them if he was going to hold all that guilt? However, they never saw his eyes any color but gray. Gray like the day they both met, with all that snow. When they thought they would become the snow.

Now he's just staring at them. Now they are just staring back. It would probably have continued if a voice hadn’t spoken up.

“If it’s about the both of you being supernaturals, I don’t care. And I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

He smiles warmly, a farce if ever they saw one, at Tony trying to appear human. Yet coming off more as a predator than if he just acted naturally. Not surprising since the man had never been anything close to human. “I’m not-”

“The redhead who, at most is a hundred and twenty pounds, easily pushed a two hundred pound man into a wall, lifted someone of similar weight, and backflipped through a concrete wall. Of course, even if you ignore all that, her-”

“They, if you please.” Natasha blows a kiss at Tony.

“If you ignore all that, even their entire presence screams danger. And then there is you. Stand against them like you would ultimately be the winner in the fight. You have to be so stupid to ignore that and think ‘Oh, my. These are some strange people I’ve met.’” Tony finishes with a snort.

It doesn’t stop there. Tony doesn’t back down. Just like before. It is exciting. Exciting! They hear Thirteenth’s heart spike. It takes all their control not to smile wide with all their teeth. They can see it now clearly written on Thirteenth’s face. Desire. Something that is entirely new for them. Desire is something that is so very mortal. An urge that quickly dies away when death is no longer a fathomable concept. For the most part, Thirteenth made decisions as if he had a checklist to complete. Steve was one check, and Natasha knows she was another. Sam and Clint were probably on this imaginary list as well.

Tony was different. They knew Tony was different.

It’s exciting. Unexpected. Oh, they lusted after the unexpected.

“Fine. You can stay the night. Only the night.” Thirteenth growls out each word. Then looking away. Trying pull of an act of apathy, disinterest in Tony. Hardly works with the way his body is vibrating.

“Can I get your names before you dash into the night?”

Thirteenth hesitates.

It’s clear that giving Tony both their names would be reckless, creating a connection. Really they almost felt pity for Thirteenth. “I’m Natasha.” They gestured at Thirteenth, just a beat away from naming him. Watching his horror as he is forced to form a relationship with Tony.

“James. Call me James, Tony.”

“Okay, then. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

James. . . leaves. Natasha follows. It’s been a long time since they wanted to pull him apart with their eyes. “James, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You told me to call you Winter. Steve calls you Bucky. Sam says, Hobo. Yet Tony gets James.”

“So?”

“It’s a name.”

“Yeah, it is.” He reveals nothing. It’s irritating but ultimately the game they both must play.

“You know, by human standards, Tony is completely legal.”

James. James actually blushes. Red checks. Red ears. Downcast eyes. Actual embarrassment. “Shut up.”

Best night. They can’t wait to tell Clint all the gossipy details.

[neighbourskid]

A Sign of Life

(original date: 13 March 2017)

It has been quite a while since I last posted something on here. There are some drafts floating around, but none of them are finished, so...

Yeah, this is gonna be something like a sign of life from me. I'm still here. I have not fallen of the face of planet Earth. Not yet, anyway. Nothing truly eventful has happened either. I'm just rather crappy at keeping up stuff regularly.

Well, how has my life been going? Uhm... I have started university this summer. I am now in my second semester. Studying English Language and Literature, and as of this semester Art History as a minor as well. It's going well, I think. I enjoy it. Especially English, as you might've noticed if you follow me on twitter. I have the most amazing lecturer ever, he is the funniest person I have ever met and his lectures are always very informative, interesting and fun. I mean, look:

What else? Well, I have started watching Riverdale on Netflix. I had the opportunity to see the first episode of it at preview night of SDCC last summer and have been waiting for it to air since. It is amazing and I truly do enjoy it. I've heard some criticism from people who are familiar with the comics, but I don't know them, so, I'm not really bothered by it. Riverdale has that fantastic murder mystery vibe that shows from the 80s and 90s had. Paired with it being about kids in high school is just totally up my street. I enjoy it so much. I missed shows like this. These "we live in a sweet adorable little town and everything's nice" shows, where nothing is really as it seems. I LOVE it. Would I have ever thought that Cole Sprouse would be relevant to my interests in 2017, though? Nope. But he is. I still wish they would just give me his entire wardrobe, because everything he wears on the show is stuff I have been looking for and never really found. We're basically twins.

Other than TV shows and school there is not much to report here. Nothing really happens to me. Well, I was in Paris with a friend for four days, saw a puppy so adorable that I cried, and thought I would never be able to leave the Louvre again, but that was it.

Ah yes, there's one thing: I BOOKED MY FLIGHT AND THE ROOM FOR NERDHQ 2017! I'M GOING TO SAN DIEGO AGAIN! I AM SO EXCITED!!! I worried for so long that I wouldn't be able to make it, financially, but after calculating it over and over and over again, I finally figured it would be enough and it would be possible, so I booked. And now I can't wait. I am so excited. I started watching last years HQ panels again, and it's just fantastic. This place is already a home, even if I have only ever been once. It feels so good to be there, to meet all these people, to dance all night, to go to panels, and to just be there. I have so many good memories of this place and I am so, so eternally grateful that I can go there again this year. I will finally meet more of the people I hang out on twitter with. I will be able to see Zac in person again, maybe go to more panels. Take so many pictures. Chill, relax, dance, and just enjoy myself. Sigh. I really can't wait. It's not even 130 days until I have my flight. It's so soon and yet still so far. CAN'T WAIT.

On another note, I am as of now a redhead. I dyed my hair Sunday evening. It's quite a difference. And I will have to get used to it. But I enjoy it. I always think it's funny, dying my hair. Speaking of: get ooon eeeeeet with those ginger emojis, Apple/Whatsapp/whoever is responsible for emojis. I may be a fake redhead and not even remotely ginger, but those need to be done. I have friends with needs.

What else what else what else what else? My life is so boring, honestly. Uhm.... I've named my cacti Bob and Danny. I'm trying to take up journalling as a hobby. I bought pastel highlighters and a dotted notebook. I wanna start making aesthetic designs for fandom stuff. I still have to watch Tangled: Before Ever After but I'm too lazy to go look for a link, because moi does not have Disney Channel. I watched Logan last week and it was AMAZING. And God, do I love Hugh Jackman. Oh and, I found out that even my mom is taller than Comic-Wolverine. I have rewatched The Da Vinci Code and I'm still angry that Langdon never gets any kind of love in the movies, while getting it on at least once per story in the books. GIVE HIM LOVE, DAMMIT. HE DESERVES IT. Speaking of, it's not even 200 days until the new Dan Brown book about Robert Langdon gets published, and I am beyond excited.

Okay, I think we've now established that my life is boring as fuck, and all I do all day is obsess over movies and books, while simultaneously trying to not die at university. How exciting! Anyway, that's all from me for now.

Be seeing ya'! *waves off*

[cinedave]

REVIEW: The Lego Batman Movie - He’s black, he’s back and he’s hilarious

“So please please please, let me , let me, let me, let get what I wanted” once sang The Smiths (no, it wasn’t John Lewis). I think it sums up the hopes and ideas of a character spin off movie. You get a superb supporting character that completely steals a show and in response to this public reaction they get their own film. Yet will they still be as good in the centre of their own world rather than being the comic relief of someone else’s? Ever since Despicable Me showed up “Minions Mania” became an inescapable worldwide phenomenon (do dooo da do do) but my God was their spin off movie awful! It’s not the sure fire success story that we’d like it to be that even saw the mighty Joey Tribbiani crash and burn on the small screen. So now spin offs come with a simple plea of hope; for them to please please please replicate the quality and success of their character’s prior outings. There’s no denying that Will Arnett’s Batman dominated 2014s Lego Movie. He didn’t just get a spin off but found it fast tracked ahead of the Lego sequel. Now it’s finally here is everything still awesome?..... you’re darn right it is!

Gotham City’s legendary crime fighter Batman (Will Arnett – BoJack Horseman, Arrested Development) must face his greatest enemies. The Joker (Zach Galifianakis – The Hangover guy) and getting close to others as he reluctantly homes the orphan Dick Grayson (Michael Cera – Juno).

COLD WARNING – Film best viewed with as little knowledge as possible, please consider before reading

Like a certain other suited character this time last year, Lego Batman immediately finds and establishes its tone of satire and smart parody as its hero wastes little time before self-narrating. This isn’t a film that’s mocking Batman it’s a film about Batman mocking Batman as director Chris McKay (Robot Chicken) takes gleeful delight in poking fun at many aspects of the character’s literary on screen legacy but in a way that celebrates it rather than condemns. It takes classic themes like the symbiotic dynamic between Batman and the Joker and spins it into almost a romantic comedy as their feud is expressed as a relationship with differing levels of commitment. Or there is the idea of Alfred being Bruce’s surrogate father warped into making Batman frequently stubborn and childish. It’s all things that in isolation would seem problematic but come together through clever, creative and in many ways a fearless usage of the subject matter. The approach taken could well have triggered a fanboy backlash but the attention and understanding of the Batman character is still clear underneath any mockery to get away with it all. Plus there’s no shortage of in jokes to send many into a Cesar Romero fit of giggles from background visual gags to dialogue references and the extensive list of minor characters that feature (even Orca!). In fact a few 60s nods made me genuinely lose it.

The next key point of the Bat-list of pointy things is that this still remembers it’s a Lego movie. Not only does Will Arnett continue his “bro”/frat boy like take on The Dark Knight (he calls the computer, “pewtor”) but ideas like master building and multi-franchise ties-ins are still utilized well. The later in particular is not only immensely fun but ultimately becomes the embodiment of the film’s unique character adaptation. You’ll see the Caped Crusader going up against many different people than you expected. Lego Gotham City looks fantastic as it incorporates some familiar visual cues like the bold gothic structures of the 90s films or the bridge layouts of the Nolan era. This all becomes a terrific canvas for the films action sequences which are not only bigger in scale than most of The Lego Movie but frequently a well crafted blend of spectacle and comedy. The central voice cast is 9-pack abs strong. Alongside Arnette the best addition is Ralph Fiennes (He’s Voldermort) composed yet strained Alfred. There are no shortage voice cameos either thanks to the many known smaller/supporting characters on screen. Look out for Mariah Carey as the Mayor, Billy Dee “Lando” Williams as Two Face along with Jemaine Clement, Seth Green and Eddie Izzard in best unnamed roles.

While the film is a lot fun it’s not quite on the same level of its Lego Movie base board and certainly not without its chinks in the Bat-armored suit. For one the story is very thin, even considering its intended accessibility to younger viewers. It’s a clear safe bet in an otherwise more adventurous film and encourages little investment in seeing it to the end. It makes the film now like an album that you’d listen to on shuffle or just pick out your favorites from, rather than caring about the composition enough to just push play. Ultimately The Lego Batman Movie is less a great movie and more a collection of great moments (all be it a bloody lot of them). Neither is the action invulnerable. Although overall it’s quite positive some scenes really are too busy for their own good and a less is more approach would have been advisable. I guess even Lego batman isn’t immune to, “too many villains” syndrome. Finally, while the musical tendencies of this Batman were a fun feature last time here they’re defiantly over relied upon. Yes, he likes to write songs and “bat-box” about himself but doesn’t mean we need to see it all the time.

It’s a film that’s simultaneously approachable to a Bat-novice while being immensely geeky satisfying to more hard-core fans. It’s a film that certainly has its slow and dry points but its high soar higher than the Bat-Signal and will leave with a big, “why so serious?” grin. Some of its merit certainly comes from shock and surprise so it may not punch as hard in later rounds of viewing but for now at least this is a superb piece of superhero parodying comedy. It’s without doubt the funniest film on current release so anyone, superhero fan or not, needing a comedy fix should grapple gun their way into a seat.