Pops Read a Book: HORROR STORIES by Liz Phair

Sigh. I just blew through Liz Phair’s HORROR STORIES (Random House, 2019), and it’s only exacerbated my complicated feelings about someone who was once one of my favorite artists. Ostensibly a memoir, it’s a nonlinear collection of stories that delve deep into Phair’s personal life, primarily her mostly shitty relationships with men. I mean… I get it… as my pal, WFMU's Therese Mahler said, “Have you heard her lyrics?” But I wasn’t prepared to so frequently have to fight the urge to say out loud, “What are you DOING!?!” as I read this book (on a commuter train!!). I realize that great art is often created by complicated, often difficult personalities. I wouldn’t want to hang out with many of my favorite artists in numerous mediums. But I was hoping this book would delve deeper into the evolution / de-evolution of Liz’ highly controversial career arc, which is barely touched upon in the book. There’s also an interminable chapter about having her child (we get it, it’s magical and gross and beautiful and painful and you’ve never felt a love like this bla bla bla…). But, as much as the content often had me wincing, it’s never dull… the woman can write, for sure. And there are some segments (including the heartbreaking chapter on her own #metoo moments, centered around an ill-fated collaboration with the asshole [unnamed] Ryan Adams and a vivid tale of the New York City blackout) that will certainly stay with me (and make me keep this on the music books shelf). Ultimately, as frustrating as it can be, the book works for the same reason her music had an impact: It’s brutally honest, heartfelt, and bracingly her own. 

Pops Saw a Movie: OBSESSION

OBSESSION (SPOILERS AHEAD)

Every once in a while, hype works on me. Not big blockbuster hype, with films like that, I pretty much know what I’ll see and what I won’t (MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE, no no no no, SUPERGIRL, of course), but rather when something smaller bubbles up and becomes such a part of the conversation that I can’t ignore it. Such is the case with Curry Barker’s OBSESSION. 

I braved the multiplex to see OBSESSION by myself on an early Sunday afternoon, in a thankfully mostly-empty theater (nobody sat in front of me, so I had no distractions), and not only does it live up to the hype, it’s better. The plot is simple: A shy, introverted guy named Bear (short for Baron) uses a magical “One Wish Willow” stick to make his co-worker crush, Nikki fall in love with him. Like, deeply in love. Crazy love. And things do not go according to plan. 

As Nikki’s actual personality is sublimated under the artificial “Freaky Nikki,” helplessly bearing witness to everything that unfolds, and frequently struggling to escape, the craziness begins to escalate as Bear begins to understand that his wish might have been a bad idea. But this is the most horrific, aggravating part of the story: Bear’s immaturity, selfishness, and weakness keep him from doing anything…. ANYTHING to stop what’s unfolding in front of him, ultimately resulting in tragedy for everyone. 

Curry Barker (the writer / director / editor) is a YouTube creator who’s mostly made comedic shorts, and while some viewers of OBSESSION strongly disagree, I think this movie is fucking hilarious at points. I saw an Instagram video that was excoriating people for laughing during the movie, claiming that it was the height of antisocial behavior during a horror film (accompanied by the far more antisocial video shot on a cell phone during said screening). But I laughed out loud about a dozen times… it was uncomfortable, cringe laughter, to be sure, but… I genuinely cracked up. 

One big reason is the astonishing performance of Inde Navarrette as Nikki. Another thing many people are getting wrong about OBSESSION is thinking it’s POSESSION. Nikki is not taken over by an evil entity; she is forced to become someone she’s not, but her true personality remains. Navarrette manages an incredibly tricky balance of enough layers to dip a tortilla chip. In the same moment, you see both the artifice that’s in love with Bear and the tortured soul beneath. She can be screamingly (literally) over the top one second and chillingly understated the next and it all feels genuine. Mark my words, this is the birth of a movie star (and the funny thing is, one of the reasons I ponied up to see this in the theater is that she was up till now best known for being Lana Lang’s daughter in SUPERMAN AND LOIS). 

As Bear, Michael Johnston does well with a thankless role. He’s pitiable from the get-go, testing a Hallmarkesque profession of love for Nikki on a waitress. But apparently, one of the things people are getting wrong about OBSESSION is that he’s not to blame for his wish going wrong and that he’s just a nice guy in over his head (I’ve seen lots of people referring to him as “relatable,” which, ew). YouTube creator Maria McBain posted a video comparing Bear to other ostensible pop culture “nice guys” Ross Geller from FRIENDS and Ducky from PRETTY IN PINK, rightfully pointing out that these characters are primarily “nice” as means to an end to win the objects of their affections and that they’re actually fairly selfish, petty men. Bear is not a hero in any way. He mourns the cat (whose death was his fault for leaving Nana’s open oxycodone bottle in the kitchen) more than he does his recently departed grandmother (whose house he inherits and does almost nothing to make it his own other than tacking up a few posters and shoving a computer station in the corner of the living room). He has countless opportunities throughout the film to do the right thing and he always, ALWAYS chooses the coward’s way out, right up to the end. Anyone who takes Bear’s side is not only missing the point (spoiler alert: it’s about female autonomy), they’re displaying some at least slightly misogynistic tendencies. 

Visually, Barker shows incredible restraint when it comes to mostly eschewing horror tropes like jump scares, and the gore—while effective—takes a back seat to the darker, creepier moments. There are moments that I instantly wanted to rewatch, but then I reached for the remote and realized I was stuck in a damn movie theater (meaning I’m probably going to end up owning this on a shiny plastic disc). 

The film’s very unhappy ending is a fait accompli, but it still carries weight. We don’t know what Nikki’s final fate is, but she ain’t living happily ever after (reportedly, in the original script, Nikki kills herself, but this ending is somehow even more tragic). 

Ultimately, OBSESSION is one of those films that’s become a sensation almost despite itself. It’s way more than just a well-made horror film. It’s smarter, funnier, and mostly darker than most people even realize, and I think it’s destined to be considered a classic of the genre.

Pops Read a Book: CRUMB: A CARTOONIST'S LIFE

I finished CRUMB: A CARTOONIST’S LIFE (Scribner, 2025), Dan Nadel’s intensive (and intense) biography of arguably the most iconic underground cartoonist of all time, and one of the most polarizing, complicated figures in not just comics, but culture. I’ve always had a tangential relationship with Crumb, recognizing his genius, but often put off by the ugliness that his work at times displays (there’s also beauty, for sure). CRUMB (even more than Terry Zwigoff’s 1995 documentary) spends an awful lot of time trying to parse the artist’s misogynistic and racist works as sociological studies of human nature, and I’m sure that’s true to some extent. But as this book often lays bare, Crumb is also frequently just a raging id, both on the page and in real life, and I’ve never been comfortable with people who justify selfish, harmful behavior as artistic expression (being when separating the artist from the art is as impossible as removing their flesh). Then again, my relationship with much of the most important work of the 1960s is cultural appreciation more than subjective enjoyment. 

CRUMB is riveting (although the extended family becomes a bit tough to keep track of, making me wish for a family tree for reference), alternately enlightening, aggravating, inspiring, and heartbreaking. But I didn’t come out of it with a burning desire to add more of the man’s work to my library. I’m good with what I have already (a few collections, some anthologies of underground work, and oh yeah, every issue of WEIRDO), as well as the arm’s length at which I keep it. 

Pops Watched TV: DTF ST. LOUIS

 For the past month or so, I’ve been proselytizing HBO’s DTF ST. LOUIS to friends, praising it as being something truly unique in an ocean of streaming television: A pitch black comedy / murder whodunit about sex in the suburbs, middle age ennui, and identity crises that was simultaneously twisted and unexpectedly sweet. Jason Bateman, David Harbour, and Linda Cardellini play friends caught in a complicated three-way affair that ends in the death of Harbour’s character, Floyd Smernitch. Two detectives, a grizzled older white man played by Richard Jenkins and a young African American woman (Joy Sunday) investigating the case focus on Floyd’s wife, Carol (Cardellini) and best friend, local meteorologist Clark (Bateman), and what initially seems like a typical tale of suburban infidelity leading to murder (for reasons financial or jealousy?) unravels as the details of the three lives are slowly laid bare (literally). 

Harbour is particularly moving as Floyd, a tortured, gentle soul desperately trying to find human connection. His relationship with his stepson, Richard (Arlan Ruf) will rend your heart in all of the ways it can be rended. Bateman evokes middle age weariness in a way that will make anyone who grew up watching him on TV feel every ache and pain they’ve ever endured. Cardellini’s Carol often comes across as cold (particularly towards the climax), making her rare moments of warmth and love have real resonance. The performances are all great, and often startling in their honesty. Which makes the ending (it’s not a spoiler, it’s the setup of the show) all the more painful. 

But not the good kind of dramatic painful. As the show’s final moments played out, I was left asking, What’s the Point? DTF ST. LOUIS goes to great, at time excruciating lengths to show us the complexity in these three characters (Clark’s wife, Eimy is barely in the series, presumably for a reason, although I can’t help but think having her more fleshed out would’ve helped us understand Clark’s situation more), but in the end, all we get is sadness. There’s no catharsis for anyone, no greater understanding of why life is so fucking hard, no silver lining woven into the tragedy. Everyone is just suffering (unless you count the detectives, who grow closer as a result of the investigation). 

Anyone who was frustrated by the conclusion of OZARK will feel familiar pangs of longing for a more just ending with DTF ST. LOUIS, but, as with Bateman’s crime drama, there’s more than enough good here to make it worth watching. But goddamn, it’s not an easy watch.

Pops Saw a Movie: JOHN CANDY: I LIKE ME

 Colin Hanks’ new documentary, JOHN CANDY: I LIKE ME is a true rarity in Hollywood biographies in that… there’s no dirt. Nobody’s telling secret, behind the scenes stories of what a jerk Candy was. There aren’t tales of rampant drug use and racist, misogynistic rants in the makeup chair. Nobody’s talking about how he was a raging egomaniac who abused his co-stars and took advantage of his fame to trample the little people. The worst they can come up with is that he was kind of a perfectionist who didn’t take care of himself and that one time, he got mad that he wasn’t making as much money as his SCTV co-stars. But that’s it. 

Nope, it seems as if this is one of those rare instances where a beloved celebrity was, well, just like you’d hoped he’d be: a super sweet guy. Sure, there’s drama surrounding how people’s reactions (both positive and negative) to his weight affected him (and his career), an ongoing undercurrent of sadness related to early loss in his life, and a bit about how his inability to say no to friends resulted in some poor movie choices, but mostly, this is a heartfelt celebration of John Candy… and if you’re old enough to have been affected by his untimely death in 1994 at the age of 43, make sure you’ve got something handy to wipe away a river of tears. 

Haven and I watched this Sunday night, and within the first few minutes, we were both sobbing. The film opens at Candy’s funeral, and a montage of images of the actor play under Dan Aykroyd’s emotional eulogy, which—I’m not being hyperbolic—is one of the most beautiful arrangements of words I’ve ever heard. An A-List of talking heads (Including Tom Hanks, Bill Murray, Mel Brooks, and Steve Martin) share memories of working with Candy, but it was stories from his SCTV compatriots that moved me the most, as that is the context in which I’ll always think of John. 

I remain of the mind that SCTV, while certainly hit-or-miss, was the greatest sketch comedy television show of all time, and when I was in high school, it was as important to my sense of snark and rebellion as Bugs Bunny and the Clash (way moreso than SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE, which rather quickly became a victim of its own success and lost much of its anarchic spark). SCTV was smarter, took more chances, and somehow managed to be both intellectual and absurdist. Its pop culture references were often obscure (teaching me about things like OCEAN’S 11, Rusty Warren, and William B. Williams), and its recurring characters felt real (none moreso than Candy’s Johnny LaRue, whose drunken wish for a crane shot in episode 94 never fails to elicit tears from myself and my kid brother). Seeing Eugene Levy, Catherine O’Hara, Martin Short, Dave Thomas, and even Robin Duke (sorry, Robin) reminiscing about those turbulent, at times taxing, but creatively enervating times got me choked up way more than discussions of PLANES, TRAINS, AND AUTOMOBILES (which is fine, but, you know… John Hughes). 

Anyway. If you dig Hollywood biographies for seedy showbiz salaciousness or to get a sense of schadenfreude out of watching the mighty take a fall, then I LIKE ME is not for you. But if you’re one of the legions who watched John Candy in STRIPES or SPLASH or UNCLE BUCK or NATIONAL LAMPOON’S VACATION or SPACEBALLS (et al) and thought, “Man, I like that guy,” then make sure to check out this heartfelt tribute.

Live Action Superman RE-Rankings!

 So, with James Gunn's SUPERMAN now out long enough for me to have seen it numerous times and have the initial rush of excitement (which always makes me like things more than I usually do after objectivity is allowed to settle in) abate a bit, I've re-evaluated my rankings of the live action Superman movies and portrayals to put the new film and its cast in their places. Where does David Corenswet fit in? How about Rachel Brosnahan? And the movie overall? Here's my new placements (as originally posted on my Daily Superman Instagram page).... 

Pops Saw a Movie: FANTASTIC FOUR: FIRST STEPS

 Maybe THE FANTASTIC FOUR: FIRST STEPS suffered from coming out so soon after SUPERMAN (review here), as comparisons are inevitable and I think I might have liked this movie a bit more had I seen it first. 

My immediate reaction is, it’s fine. The story is serviceable, the effects are pretty good, the elevation of Sue to the most powerful member of the quartet (as she’s been portrayed in the comics for years) is long overdue. Both Galactus and Silver Surfer look and sound great (I am a huge fan of both Julia Garner and Ralph Ineson, and they make the most of their roles despite being buried under CG). It was a nice surprise seeing Natasha Lyonne as Ben’s not-blind-sculptor love interest, Roz (named after Jack Kirby’s beloved wife, a sweet tribute). The movie’s stakes feel high, and while the forced “it’s all about family” theme is usually wince-inducing to me, it makes sense here. I actually like that the sweater-like costumes look like they were made by J. Crew (who knew they had access to unstable molecules?). And hey, Franklin looks like an actual baby. 

But some of the casting feels off. I love Pedro Pascal, but he just doesn’t evoke the somewhat detached cerebral nature of Reed Richards, he’s more of a socially-inept, reluctant celebrity. Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s Thing feels a bit insubstantial, with a pointless beard and an oddly-unaltered voice (I know, I know, the actor doesn’t want to totally get lost in the performance, but it just feels off). Joseph Quinn’s Johnny (now also a genius for some reason) is pretty dull. 

I was surprised that I enjoyed the presence of H.E.R.B.I.E. (Created as a replacement for the Human Torch in the 1978 animated series), but why does Reed call him “Herbert” when the robot’s name is an acryonym? Was that and ad-lib from Pascal or was that in the script? Was it supposed to show that Reed’s so buttoned up he can’t use nicknames even when it’s not a nickname? *(I fully acknowledge this is a supremely nerdy nitpick.) 

But the film’s biggest problem is also one of is strengths… the retro-futurism of the alternate universe 1960s is one of the key elements to differentiate this from other entrants in the MCU. And it’s all pretty striking. But it’s so overwhelmingly art directed that it rarely feels organic (I'm gonna guess that many of the designers had to research the MCM esthetic), I always felt like I was looking at props rather than parts of the Fantastic Four’s world, to enormous distraction (the fake TV show that serves as an exposition dump is the worst example of this). And the rampant product placement is sadly typical, but still annoying. Ironically, it was this aspect of the movie—something to which I was really looking forward—that kept me at arm’s length more than any performance or plot point. 

I dunno. Like I said, it was fine. But it certainly didn’t feel like the kind of fresh restart for a universe that’s been struggling to regain an audience. Maybe when I see it again (which will not be in the theater), I’ll feel different. 

BUT WHERE WAS WILLIE LUMPKIN?!?!