Comics2Film has a deleted scene from Iron Man, featuring Tony’s first excuse for taking his suit on a jaunt to Afghanistan. Spoilers after the jump.

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MAN, I’ve got to update this more often. This month is kicking my ass, though; I’m taking a really awesome class on ethnicity and race in comics/graphic novels, but the reading is intense and I’ve got to write three papers in five weeks. Urk. Time for a media dump!

I’ve been to the movies a bit lately. WALL-E is beautiful and sweet and charming without being cloying. Kung Fu Panda was hilarious and touching and gorgeously animated. I… er, saw Iron Man again. For the fifth time. I am a fangirl, what can I say? I’ll probably see The Dark Knight on Thursday, and I’m definitely seeing The X-Files: I Want To Believe (or as it should be titled, The X-Files: Incredibly Clunky Subtitle) on Friday. Hellboy is here from Netflix, waiting for me to watch it so I can eventually see Hellboy II: The Golden Army. I want to see Tropic Thunder mainly for Robert Downey, Jr.

The movie industry is out to torture my wallet this summer, seriously.

I’ve been reading lots of comics for class. If you’re looking for some good indie comics, try the Love & Rockets series by the Hernandez brothers. I read Human Diastrophism and Perla La Loca over the weekend, and both are very well-written with interesting artwork. Next up on the comics reading list is four volumes of Lucifer’s Garden of Verses by Lance Tooks and the rest of Stuck Rubber Baby by Howard Cruse. In non-class-related reading, I’m in the middle of The Hippopotamus Pool by Elizabeth Peters. Amelia Peabody = ♥

In video game news, I’m playing Dark Cloud 2 whenever I have a free minute. I love the combination of RPG, dungeon fighter, and worldbuilder, and the animation–particularly the environments–is gorgeous.

So… I’ve wasted enough time that should be used for paper-writing. Well, I’ve wasted enough time blogging. Now I should waste some more time making icons…

There’s no better way to start the morning off right than with some good linkage.

First up: Paperback Writer posts Skiffy Ten, ten links about writing science fiction.

I’m somewhat of a stilted writer. I get ideas, I think about said ideas, and then sometimes I write them down, but I hardly ever bring them to fruition. This is a sucky writing habit, and it’s one I’m working at changing (I actually finished some poems this summer! Woo!). But, er, anyway, most of what I think about writing falls under the umbrella of speculative fiction, and PBW’s links are extremely helpful for anyone interested in dipping their toes (or diving headfirst into) the world of spec fic. My favorite links on this page are Bruce Sterling’s lexicon for SF writing workshops and China Miéville’s short essay on world building.

Which reminds me, I really should re-compile my list of world building resources and post it here.

Next! New promo image from X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Pardon me for a moment, I need to drool over Hugh Jackman’s biceps and shoulders.

…Okay, I’m good. I’m digging all of the sexy shots of Wolvie, don’t get me wrong. I love the fangirl fanservice, but I keep hoping for official shots of the other characters. I want to see Liev Schrieber decked out as Sabretooth. That not-Native-American woman as Silver Fox. That kid from Friday Night Lights as Gambit. Ryan Reynolds as Deadpool, for god’s sake!

C’mon, Fox, toss us a little more than just Jackman in a wifebeater. Though I in no way object to tossing us more Jackman in a wifebeater along the way.

And in very old news, Tom Cruise was approached a few years ago to play Tony Stark in a version of Iron Man that thankfully crashed and burned. Oh dear GOD, can you imagine how horrible that would have been? [clings to Robert Downey, Jr.]

Let me preface this review by saying that I’ve been an Indiana Jones fan for as long as I can remember. I was about a year old when Raiders of the Lost Ark came out, and I remember seeing Temple of Doom and Last Crusade in the theatre as a child (both of which scared the crap out of me, and goddamn, did I love it). I spent most of my childhood pretending I was Marion Ravenwood or (during a brief lapse of judgment in terms of characters) Willie What’sherface, running around the back yard with imaginary!Indy.

So, when I heard that Spielberg, Lucas, Ford, et al, were finally making a fourth installment, I was torn between giddy fangirl excitement and complete and utter terror. I mean, I saw the new Star Wars trilogy. I know what George Lucas’s writing is like. In my opinion, he should be allowed to have cool ideas, but he should be forced to then hand over those ideas to someone with more writing talent. And he should be banned from ever again writing any dialogue. Yeesh.

I just got back from seeing Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull for a second time, and… it’s got its ups and downs. Downs would mostly be clunky dialogue and the occasional situation that pushes the boundaries of suspended disbelief. Ups… well, it’s Indiana Jones, for heaven’s sake.

I was pleased as punch to see Marion Ravenwood back in Indy’s life; I always thought it was stupid for Indy to bedhop his way through the movies, and Marion was by far my favorite of Indy’s women. Karen Allen looked like she was having the time of her life in the role, and I had fun watching her. Shia LeBeouf was fantastic as Mutt Williams. The character could have been one-dimensional, but Shia plays it complex; in nearly every scene, we get to see a new side of Mutt.

Harrison Ford… well, he still looks like someone’s grandpa instead of the Indy we’re used to, but he plays the aging archaeologist/adventurer with aplomb and obvious enjoyment. The couple of self-deprecating quips about his age are well-placed and add just the right amount of teasing reference to the nineteen years that have passed since the last installment.

Good GOD, has it really been nineteen years?!

Ahem. Anyway. The best way to watch this movie is to sit back, shrug your shoulders, and say, “What the hell.” After making my inner nitpicker shut up, I had a hell of a lot of fun watching this movie. Mild spoilers after the jump.

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I have a confession. I love Nathan Fillion. The first time I saw him as Captain Malcolm Reynolds on Joss Whedon’s Firefly, I fell head over heels. My love for Fillion even made me watch Slither, despite my overwhelming hatred of gross-out horror movies (the laughs completely outweighed the gross-outs, and trust me, there were a lot of gross-outs).

So I was looking forward to seeing Adrienne Shelly’s Waitress if only for my beloved Nathan. I never watched Felicity, star Keri Russell’s most famous project; it kind of seems like a crime for a woman in her mid-late twenties to have never watched that show, doesn’t it? I went into this film with a pretty open mind, expecting only another good performance from Fillion.

I was impressed. It’s not the jump-up-in-my-seat kind of impressed; more like a quiet, contemplative kind of feeling. It’s pretty much impossible not to empathize with Russell’s Jenna, an abused waitress saddled with a pathetic husband and an unwanted pregnancy. Jenna’s joy in life is baking; she creates the most amazing, creatively-named pies as a form of escapism. Her other form of escapism is the affair she begins with her slightly-neurotic OB-GYN, Dr. Pomatter (played to the stammering, charming T by Fillion). The supporting actors are all subtle and believable, from Jeremy Sisto as Jenna’s asshole of a husband to director Shelly as the love-starved Dawn.

Despite Jenna’s sweet pies, the film is suffused with bittersweetness. Jenna, Dr. Pomatter, Jenna’s fellow waitresses, and Old Joe, the cranky owner of the diner, are all likable, but there’s so much that’s screwed up in each of their lives, from affairs to unwanted babies to broken down bodies. I went through the entire film dreading the next moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Waitress sits in your chest as an ache. It’s a tearjerker without being cloying or contrived, and I couldn’t help thinking while watching about Shelly’s untimely death. My only complaint is the neatness of the ending; it’s meant to be empowering for women, but it’s a little too transparent for my tastes. I like to feel empowered while watching a film without metaphorical flashing neon lights.

The Discriminating Fangirl’s Grade: B+

I have a confession to make. I adore The Mummy. I think it’s funny and entertaining, awesomely tongue-in-cheek. Rachel Weisz and John Hannah make the movie, and Brendan Fraser… well, he’s pretty and funny and is good at looking confused. Rachel’s character, Evelyn Carnahan, is one of my favorite movie characters of all time; she’s brilliant, spunky-without-being-obnoxious, and is gloriously absentminded. In other words, Evie is basically me in celluloid form.

So, I was excited when I heard about the second film. I thought it had the potential to start another franchise along the lines of Indiana Jones (though nowhere near as perfect, Indiana Jones and the Golden Walker 4 notwithstanding), a great little line of archaeology comedies. That makes my little geek heart happy.

And then The Mummy Returns came out. And I began pretending that it doesn’t exist. It’s actually kind of painful to have to mention it here, but I’ll persevere. That Scorpion thingie… we shall never speak of it.

So I’m sure you can imagine my horror when I heard they were making a fourth movie in the franchise, though they’re calling it the third film in the series. Let’s just call it The Mummy’s Trainwreck. First off, they’re again jumping far into the future, like the second film. Second, they’re bringing back Rick and Evie’s bastard of a son, What’s His Name. Only this time, he’s going to be a grown up, and they’re all going to China to battle Jet Li, the Evil Chinese Mummy, and Michelle Yeoh, the Evil Chinese Wizard.

Really, there’s not enough facepalm in the world for this. What the fuck.

But there’s one bright spot in all of this. My beloved Rachel Weisz has gotten the hell out of Dodge. Apparently she found the prospect of more whining from that little craphead kid (in adult form!) as horrifying as I do. Or maybe she was just afraid of having to fight like Egyptian ninja again.