You put your whole self in. You put your whole self out. You put your whole self in and you shake it all about. You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn around. That’s what it’s all about! From The Hokey Pokey, written by Charles P. Macak, Larry Laprise and Taft Baker.
Now that the first season of Lanterns is reaching end times, I think it’s time for me to put in my two cents on the most important controversy of the day, the “this is not MY Hal Jordan” issue.
First of all, to quote William Shatner’s most famous utterance, get a life. Your childhood remains unaltered. Nobody is shitting on those thrilling days of yesteryear you remember so vividly. Given that I’m not in a position to carbon date all the whiners, I am compelled to ask which Hal Jordan are you talking about?
Seriously. Is it the test pilot who has a traumatically inappropriate personal relationship with his boss and who calls his Asian mechanic Pieface? Was he the guy who travelled around the country to look for America? Was he Parallax? Was he The Spectre? Was he the guy who killed Sinestro’s corpsman? Was he the guy who swapped his power ring for Krona’s power gauntlet? Having read Green Lantern since his first Showcase appearance (I had just turned nine years old; for the record, I bought Showcase #22 at an outdoor newsstand in front of the Bonfire restaurant at the northwest corner of Lawrence and Kedzie in Albany Park, Chicago) I can cite many other such transformations, despite my geriatric memory.
There might be almost as many Hal Jordans as there are Earthling Green Lanterns. Combined, both groups could fill Yankee Stadium.
I like Lanterns. I find it cleverly written — those confused by the time shifts are too busy being pissed to pay attention. It is quite well acted. I like the incidental music. It didn’t annul my childhood, and while watching it I did not notice the lack of asinine but comic book friendly green projections. But, as Dennis Miller used to say back when anybody cared, your mileage may vary.
O.K. Look, I get it. Those memories are important. Hell, my own memories have been paying the rent for a very long time. So let me offer a suggestion.
Marvel has its Ultimate line. DC has its Absolute line. We’ve got so many different alternative versions of sundry heroic fantasy universes I shouldn’t bitch about global overpopulation, even though I do. So let’s make this simple: all media adaptations of our favorite comics are in their own such “alternate” universes. Probably separate universes with transitory overlapping, which, of course, is the best kind.
That makes it simple. Readers can check into those efforts without having to believe that something important to them has been changed. If they give it a fair shake and decide they don’t like it, fine. The rest of us can watch a movie or a teevee series we decide we don’t like without feeling betrayed; I’ll get the get-a-lifes can as well.
Keep in mind these movies and teevee shows, even those we perceive as failures, bring in revenue that supports the publishers and allows them to continue to publish stuff that otherwise might not be sufficiently profitable.
Just don’t bitch out loud while watching this stuff at the movie theater. Some of us might be enjoying ourselves despite the sounds you make while choking down your bile. If you have to, go to the lobby, turn on your smartphone, and scream at your shrink.
Besides, we have more important things to worry about.
What if Doctor Doom really is Tony Stark?
