Making Up for Missing Comic-Con

This year, my trip to Italy meant missing New York Comic Con. While there is nowhere I would rather be than Italy, I must admit I missed the thrill of hunting for long-sought fetish properties, admiring the elaborate cosplay costumes, and perhaps finally acquiring an original Frank Thorne Red Sonja illustration, one I still regret passing up last year.

To “console” myself, I paid a visit to my local comic book shop and treated myself to a few elusive pieces for my modest hoard. Among my finds were Kull the Destroyer #11, finally completing my collection of the original Kull series (Vol. 1); Conan the Barbarian: Red Nails #1, the giant-size, ad-free special issue published in 1983; and King Conan #1, illustrated by the great John Buscema.

It wasn’t quite the same as wandering the aisles of Comic Con, but there is something immensely satisfying about filling those long-standing gaps. As for that elusive drawing of the She-Devil with a Sword, the hunt will hopefully continue at next year’s convention.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, October 22nd, Feast of San Simmaco di Capua.

Reinstating Comic Book Night

As a kid, buying a new comic book was one of those little pleasures I always looked forward to. Once my chores were done, I’d collect my allowance and run to John’s Sweet Shop, Blondie’s, or Brain Damage Comics to buy the latest issue of my favorite series (Conan, Kull, Red Sonja). It was a simple ritual that made an ordinary day feel like an occasion.

Attending New York Comic Con with friends over the last couple of years rekindled some of that old enthusiasm, and the anticipation of this year’s convention in October has only added to it. In the mood to indulge myself, I’ve decided to reinstate comic book night.

Once a month, I visit my local comic shop and flip through the bins in hopes of completing the runs I collected as a child and still own today. Not much of a fan of modern comics, I’m more interested in finding those elusive back issues. I could easily hunt them down online, but I’d rather support a mom-and-pop shop. Besides, discovering something interesting and unexpected is part of the fun, as is talking to the other collectors.

Unfortunately, much of what interests me isn’t particularly popular or readily available on the shelves. The upside is that, when I do find something, it usually isn’t terribly expensive. I’ve also developed a good rapport with the proprietors, who put aside things they think I might like. This month, I came home with a decent copy of issue no. 22 of Creatures on the Loose, featuring the first appearance of Thongor, Warrior of Lost Lemuria, penciled by Val Mayerik and inked by Vince Colletta.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 6th, Feast of San Fausto di Siracusa

Why I Won’t Be Reviewing The Odyssey (2026)

Ulysses deriding Polyphemus, 1829, J.M.W. Turner

Several friends were genuinely surprised when I told them I had absolutely no interest in seeing Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey (2026). Given my lifelong love of mythology, fantasy, and science fiction, they assumed it would be at the top of my list. In a saner age, they would probably be right.

Unfortunately, we no longer live in that world. We live in a cultural landscape that gave us The Rings of Power, where beloved myths are routinely stripped of their spirit and rebuilt according to modern ideological fashions. I have too much love and respect for Homer to spend my time or money on what appears to be another exercise in the same destructive impulse.

The casting choices and costume design were enough to make me skeptical from the beginning. However, reports that the film embraces modern dialogue and contemporary political framing removed any lingering curiosity. I do not need to see it to know it is not the Odyssey I want.

What surprised me most is how much faith people place in Christopher Nolan. Apparently, his name alone is enough to draw audiences into theaters. I confess I do not understand the reverence. Of his thirteen feature films, I have only seen Dunkirk (2017) and the Dark Knight trilogy. None left much of an impression on me. I considered watching Oppenheimer (2023), but never got around to it, and I remain in no hurry.

I also have no interest in participating in the endless online culture war surrounding this film.

I’d rather revisit films that still understand wonder without apology: The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958), The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973), Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977), Clash of the Titans (1981), Excalibur (1981), and Conan the Barbarian (1982). Those films remain magical because they approached myth with reverence, imagination, and sincerity. They invited audiences into legendary worlds rather than dragging those worlds into the fashions and preoccupations of the present.

As for new releases, the only films I am genuinely looking forward to this year are I Play Rocky (2026), Godzilla Minus Zero (2026), and Robert Eggers’ Werwulf (2026).

There will be no review of Christopher Nolan’s The Odyssey here. Some films are simply not worth three hours of my life.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 22nd, Feast Day of Santa Maria Maddalena

Rumors and Revivals

"When I became a man, I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.” ~ C.S. Lewis

I recently learned that a remake of Barbarella (1968) is in the works, starring Sydney Sweeney as the eponymous space vixen. After being mocked by younger critics for “showing my age” in last year’s False Dichotomy article, I’ve at least caught up enough to know who she is.

As a childhood fan of the original starring Jane Fonda, I can’t help but worry that Hollywood will once again mishandle an iconic cult character. To be clear, the film was never meant for children, given its overt sexual themes. My parents didn’t realize this when they let me buy a copy on RCA's CED format; they assumed it was just another campy space romp in the vein of Flash Gordon (1980) or Buck Rogers in the 25th Century (1979).

Based on clips of Ms. Sweeney circulating online, this new adaptation will likely follow the same adult tone, which is unsurprising given her willingness to appear in the buff.

Another project that may finally be coming to fruition is King Conan, the long-awaited sequel to Conan the Barbarian (1982), starring Arnold Schwarzenegger. It’s a film I’ve been waiting decades to see.

I say “sequel,” and not the third in a trilogy, because Conan the Destroyer (1984) felt more like a departure in spirit rather than a true continuation. That judgment is no doubt sharpened by the fact that I grew up reading Robert E. Howard, whose stories first shaped my sense of the character.

While I still feel that way, I recently rewatched Conan the Destroyer and found it less bad than I remembered, perhaps because the bar is now so low that it compares favorably to much of what is produced today.

Another rumor making the rounds suggests that a new installment in the Planet of the Apes series—said to be a direct sequel to Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes (2024)—is already in production. If true, it would mark the fifth entry in the current cycle of films.

I admit a soft spot here. I’ve been a fan of these films (and television series) since childhood, even if they stray considerably from Pierre Boulle's 1962 novel. The original cycle still holds a particular place for me, especially Planet of the Apes (1968) starring Charlton Heston and its darker successor Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970). Few lines are as enduring as “Take your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape,” and fewer endings are as memorable as that final, devastating reveal.

Of the modern films, I was especially taken with Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011)—still my favorite of the newer series—featuring James Franco. Whatever liberties these films take, they’ve managed, at their best, to capture something of the original’s spirit: a blend of spectacle, moral unease, and tragic inevitability.

Still, experience tempers enthusiasm. Hollywood’s track record with revivals—especially the misfires of Conan the Barbarian (2011), Red Sonja (2025), and Robin Hood (2025)—offers little reassurance.

Nor do the upcoming The Death of Robin Hood (2026) or The Odyssey (2026) inspire much confidence; from what has been shown so far, both appear poised to continue the same pattern of hollow spectacle and misplaced ambition—more revision than revival.

That said, not all is cause for pessimism. I find myself genuinely looking forward to the next season of A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (2027), Godzilla Minus Zero (2026), and, to a lesser extent, Dune: Part Three (2026), even if I don’t hold this cycle in quite the same regard as Dune (1984). These, at least, reflect rare modern efforts to understand both source and audience. If any deserve a measure of anticipation, these do.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, April 23rd, Feast of San Giorgio Martire

Cautious Hopes: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Looking for some new and worthwhile fantasy to watch, I find myself cautiously anticipating A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, set to premiere on HBO Max on Sunday, January 18, 2026. Having never read George R.R. Martin's books, I’ve come to it only through its trailers, but I’m told that shouldn’t matter. Supposedly, this series stands on its own—unburdened by deep familiarity with Game of Thrones or House of the Dragon, both of which I declined to follow. My hope is simple: a fantasy story without the modern drama and gratuitous perversion that made those shows intolerable.

Recent history doesn’t inspire confidence. Between the abysmal Red Sonja, the hollow spectacle of The Green Knight, the limp streaming adaptations of Robin Hood and The Witcher, and early glimpses of The Death of Robin Hood and The Odyssey—whose costuming and casting choices already raise red flags—optimism feels naïve. And yet, I persist—apparently a glutton for punishment.

What’s been lost is a certain seriousness of myth: the kind found in Excalibur, Conan the Barbarian, and The Lord of the Rings trilogy—films I return to regularly. I’m not opposed to camp or fun; I enjoyed the original Clash of the Titans and Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves. What I have no patience for is the effete sensibility of many contemporary epic fantasy productions (e.g., Rings of Power), which mistake ideology and moral posturing for world-building and substance.

Still, hope remains. Recent adaptations of Nosferatu and Frankenstein prove that, when they choose to, Hollywood can still produce works with atmosphere, restraint, and craft. Perhaps A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms will be another reminder that sword and sorcery need not be stupid, obscene, or cynical. I would be pleased to be surprised.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, January 10th, Feast of Pope St. Agatho

Why the Witcher Left Me Cold and Elric of Melniboné Still Burns Like Witchfire

I recently picked up Heavy Metal #2, Variant
Cover A — Featuring Elric by Gerald Brom

While sick in bed with a cold for a couple of days, I took the opportunity to binge-watch The Witcher, a streaming series I’d heard both praise and condemnation for. Itching for a “new” sword-and-sorcery tale to disappear into, I found myself, halfway through season two, wondering why I didn’t simply return to old favorites—Excalibur, Conan the Barbarian, or The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Still, somewhat invested—and clearly weakened and confused by my sickness—I chose to see it through, foolishly hoping the show would improve. In hindsight, it was a poor decision on my part.

Assured by hardcore fans that “the books are way better” (a refrain I also heard from Harry Potter cultists—I did not like those movies, by the way), I found myself even less inclined to invest precious time reading Andrzej Sapkowski’s stories. Instead, the show—admittedly due to superficial similarities—nudged me toward something far richer: a desire to re-read Michael Moorcock’s Elric Saga, a dark-fantasy childhood favorite that shaped me as deeply as J.R.R. Tolkien, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and Robert E. Howard.

For those who don’t know, Elric of Melniboné is doom made flesh—the last, sickly emperor of a languishing empire, sustained by drugs until he binds himself to Stormbringer, the runesword that drinks souls and feeds him stolen vitality; an antihero in the truest sense. Albino, red-eyed, frail as parchment yet terrifying in sorcery, Elric wanders a dying world as both savior and scourge.

A tragic figure, he is a philosopher-king born into a race of decadent sadists, cursed with a conscience they never had. His victories leave ash, his morality damns him, and his Black Blade—his greatest strength—hungers for those he loves. Yet there is a stark beauty in him: a lone, pale figure against apocalyptic skies, wrestling with fate itself. In an age of disposable fantasy protagonists, Elric still feels dangerous, lyrical, and alive.

Considering how atrocious most film and television adaptations have become, I am genuinely relieved no studio has yet sunk its claws into Elric. The list of butchered sci-fi, fantasy, and sword-and-sorcery properties grows longer every year. While not all recent adaptations are disasters—Nosferatu, Frankenstein, Hellboy—these successes are rare flashes of integrity amid the slop the industry churns out.

If anything, revisiting Elric reminds me that some worlds are better left on the page, untainted—where the imagination can still conjure storms worthy of Stormbringer.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, December 10th, Translation of the Holy House of Loreto 

Help Save the Robert E. Howard Museum—The Home of a Legend

Photo courtesy of the Robert E. Howard Museum

“Know, O prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars…” ~ The Nemedian Chronicles, Robert E. Howard

Robert E. Howard

The Robert E. Howard Museum in Cross Plains, Texas—the humble home where the creator of Conan the Barbarian, Bran Mak Morn, and Solomon Kane dreamed his immortal worlds into being—is in need of our help. More than a museum, it’s the birthplace of modern heroic fantasy and the beating heart of sword-and-sorcery itself.

For me, Robert E. Howard was one of the great shaping forces of my imagination. Alongside the artwork of Frank Frazetta, his stories fired my adolescent mind as much as the Matter of Britain, the Matter of France, and the ancient myths of Greece and Rome. His heroes were larger than life yet deeply human—fierce, fatalistic, and alive with the tragic poetry of struggle.

If Howard’s work ever stirred something in you—if his tales of courage and doom helped you see the world a little differently—please consider supporting the preservation of his legacy. The house still stands in Cross Plains, but it needs champions of its own now.

For more information, visit https://reh.world/articles/museum/

Geeks, Freaks, and Workmates: Mandatory Fun Day at New York City Comic-Con

My new twenty-sided dice stress ball

For the second year in a row, my co-workers and I had the great pleasure of attending New York City Comic-Con on opening day at the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center—a little dose of mandatory fun and much-needed R&R. The Con has come a long way since my dad first brought me back in 1977, when the crowd fit comfortably in a few hotel ballrooms and “cosplay” wasn’t even a word.

We’d talked about dressing up for the occasion this year, but, as usual, our work schedules (and indecision) got in the way. We couldn’t agree on a theme, and time slipped by. Showing my age, I settled for the low-effort route: a funny hat, a twirled mustache, and the claim that I was Dick Dastardly. It was better than nothing, I suppose.

Sciel and Gustave from Clair
Obscur: Expedition 33

The center was absolutely packed—shoulder to shoulder with superheroes, villains, aliens, elves, and every other imaginable life form. The cosplay was half the fun. Some costumes were pure art, others deeply strange, a few questionably rated, and many simply baffling to me. Not being a gamer or much of an anime or manga fan, I didn’t recognize most of the characters—but I admired the dedication. The usual suspects were out in force: Marvelites, Bronies, Trekkies, Furries, and every fandom in between. My favorites were a fierce Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland, a dangerously seductive Federica Krueger, and a duo portraying Sciel and Gustave from Clair Obscur: Expedition 33, a dark fantasy Belle Époque video game I’d never heard of until the friendly couple explained it to me.

The vendor hall was a universe unto itself—endless booths of collectibles, art prints, weapons, plushies, and things I couldn’t begin to describe. Oddly enough, comics now make up only a small corner of Comic-Con. Still, I spotted a few gems: some interior pages of Red Sonja by Frank Thorne and Conan the Barbarian by John Buscema that nearly had me reaching for my wallet. In the end, I kept it simple—just picked up the latest issue of Heavy Metal Magazine, a new absinthe spoon, and a twenty-sided dice stress ball.

By the time we left, exhausted and overstimulated, we were all making the same promises we did last year: next time, we’re definitely dressing up.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, October 10th, Feast of St. Francis Borgia

Movie Review: Red Sonja (2025)

Spoiler Alert!

Fire and Fury in the Age of Conan. ~ Tagline from Red Sonja comics

I’m not sure what possessed me, but I sat down to watch M.J. Bassett’s Red Sonja (2025), fully aware it was going to be bad. Not “good-bad” (like the campy fun found in Flash Gordon (1980), Barbarella (1968), or even the zany cult oddity Forbidden Zone (1980)), but truly bad-bad—in the same vein as Conan the Barbarian (2011) starring Jason Mamoa, The Green Knight (2021) starring Dev Patel, and Amazon’s The Rings of Power (2022– ). My childhood obsession with Robert E. Howard’s Hyborian Age is no doubt to blame for why I subjected myself to it.

As a boy, I devoured Sword and Sorcery, High Fantasy, Sci-Fi, and Horror fiction. The stories of Robert E. Howard (Conan, Bran Mak Morn, etc.), J.R.R. Tolkien (The Hobbit, LOTR), Michael Moorcock (Elric, Corum), Edgar Rice Burroughs (Tarzan, Barsoom), H.P. Lovecraft (Cthulhu, etc.), Frank Herbert (Dune), and even John Norman (Gor) were my favorites. While my friends stuck with mainstream superhero comics (The X-Men, The Avengers), I gravitated toward the darker, more pulpier titles: Savage Sword of Conan, Vampirella, Savage Tales, Creepy, Eerie, and of course, Red Sonja. I even collected the full fifteen-issue self-titled run in the ‘70s, though truth be told, I always preferred Conan’s swashbuckling paramours—Bêlit and Valeria.

My collection of Red Sonja comics

Despite being a stickler for lore, I can forgive liberties in adaptation when they serve the story. John Milius’s Conan the Barbarian (1982) starring Arnold Schwarzenegger took plenty, but still captured the spirit and to this day remains one of my all-time favorite fantasy films. [1] But Red Sonja (2025) goes far beyond creative license. It doesn’t just take liberties, it guts the character entirely. By rewriting her origins, the film strips away the mythic weight that made the "she-devil with a sword" compelling and replaces it with a confused, hollow “girl-boss” caricature.

In Marvel’s original story “The Day of the Sword,” written by Roy Thomas, Sonja’s family is slaughtered by a group of mercenaries, and she is raped by their leader. Left to die, a mysterious “vision of madness” offers her a chance for revenge by granting her supernatural martial prowess, on the condition she never allows herself to be touched by another man unless he first defeats her in fair battle. It’s grim, tragic, and mythic. In the movie, by contrast, the red-haired hellion is a natural-born warrior, slaughtering her opponents with ease, without any training.

Splash panels from "The Day of the Sword," written by Roy Thomas. (Top) Illustrated by Howard Chaykin, Kull and the Barbarians, Vol. 1, No. 3, Marvel Comics, September 1975. (Bottom) Illustrated by Dick Giordano and Terry Austin, Savage Sword of Conan, Vol. 1, No. 78, Marvel Comics, July 1982

The plot doesn’t help. Reimagined as an eco-warrior, Sonja wages war against Emperor Dragan (Robert Sheehan), who is clear-cutting Hyrkania’s forests in his quest for an ancient, arcane manual of world-conquering technology. Along the way, she’s captured by the baboon-faced General Karlak (Martyn Ford), thrown into gladiatorial games, and forced to battle a giant cyclops. To give you an idea of what passes as dialogue, armed with only a wooden sword and wondering what they’ll face, a fellow gladiator says, "Well, you best hope it's not a giant beaver."

Naturally, Sonja breaks the creature's magical bonds with ease, convinces it to rebel against the emperor, and brings the cyclopean coliseum (no pun intended) crashing down. From there, the film devolves into a slog of poor performances, awkward fight scenes, and flat dialogue, with cheesy costumes and an uninspired score. By comparison, the much-maligned Red Sonja (1985) adaptation starring Brigitte Nielsen looks like a cinematic masterpiece.

My collectible Red Sonja pint glasses

If I’m being charitable, I’ll admit this much: Matilda Lutz looks the part. Though less ample than the original comic character, she still projects a certain Sonja-esque presence. While the film tones down the fighting first lady of sword and sorcery’s iconic assets, her provocative chain-mail bikini—to the chagrin of misandrists everywhere—still drew my male gaze. That’s the single compliment I can offer before the whole enterprise collapses under the weight of mediocrity.

Hollywood keeps trying to retrofit sword-and-sorcery pulp into contrived modern formulas, memory-holing its brutality, primal masculinity, and tragic grandeur. Strip those elements away, and you’re left with something empty—like this film. Red Sonja deserved better. So did we.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 11th, Feast of Beato Carlo Spinola

Notes:
[1] To give a sense of my cinematic taste across these genres, here are my top five picks I can always revisit: Excalibur (1981), Clash of the Titans (1981), Conan the Barbarian (1982), Blade Runner (1982), and Dune (1984).

Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad

Promotional posters for Hellboy: The Crooked Man, Nosferatu, and Time Bandits

The über-geek in me is really looking forward to the upcoming Nosferatu and Hellboy: The Crooked Man movies scheduled to be released later this year. Considering how bad the movie industry has been the past decade or so I should be more cynical, but the trailers for these two films look pretty promising. By contrast, I am much less excited for Apple TV’s adaptation of Time Bandits. I suppose it was too much to expect a trifecta.

Hellboy: The Crooked Man (2024)

Hellboy: The Crooked Man #1,
Dark Horse Comics, 2008

“Dark things call to dark things.” ~ Anung Un Rama (Jack Kesy), Hellboy: The Crooked Man

A big fan of retro sci-fi/steampunk (Heavy Metal), [1] sword & sorcery (Savage Sword of Conan), and horror (Eerie, Creepy, and Vampirella) comics, I did not read Mike Mignola’s Hellboy in the 90s. A little too old, by then I was way more into books, music, and girls, and drifting away from graphic novels. While I did enjoy the first two live-action films starring Ron Perlman, [2] I did not care for the 2019 Hellboy reboot with David Harbour.

Doing a little research, the story is supposed to take place in the desolate backwoods of Appalachia in the 1950s. [3] That alone is the stuff nightmares are made of. Similar to the way Jaws (1975) ruined the ocean for me, the rapey hillbillies in Deliverance (1972) have me almost as terrified of the American hinterlands as I am of Gotham’s crime-ridden subway system.

Without giving too much away, our cambion (half-demon) protagonist battles a coven of witches and the “Crooked Man,” an executed 18th-century war profiteer named Jeremiah Witkins who has returned from Hell and haunts the remote wilds of Virginia. [4] I have no idea how true to the lore the Crooked Man movie will be, but I like the dark and spooky ambiance of the trailer. Reportedly absolutely no CGI was used on Hellboy or the Crooked Man. Using only practical effects, this gives it more of an old-fashioned horror movie vibe than a superhero flick.

Jack Kesy is convincing as the corneous-shorn hell-spawn

Watch Trailer

Nosferatu (2024)

“He is coming” ~ Just about everybody in the trailer

Even more excited for Robert Eggers' Nosferatu, I have always been fascinated by vampires. As a kid, who didn’t love playing with plastic fangs on Halloween and repeating the famous line—wrongly attributed to Bela Lugosi in Dracula (1931)—“I vant to suck your blood,” in your best Transylvanian accent? Later enticing my overactive adolescent imagination, I relished, among others, the erotic vampiric depictions of Manuel Sanjulián, José González, and Frank Frazetta, especially those of the voluptuous blood-sucking temptress Vampirella.

A remake of F.W. Murnau's 1922 German silent film Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens (Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horrors), the forthcoming film stars Bill Skarsgård as the vampire, Count Orlok. Commonly mistaken as the vampire’s name, “nosferatu” is actually an archaic Romanian word for “vampire.” Though we never see Orlok’s harrowing visage in the trailer, there is no doubt this is going to be a visually stunning period piece replete with dark, grotesque, and macabre imagery.

Count Orlok in F.W. Murnau's Nosferatu - Eine Symphonie des Grauens (1922)

Like the vast array of literary folklore, poetry, and fiction dedicated to the ghastly creatures of the night, most notably Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897), there have been countless cinematic depictions since Murnau’s horror classic. Too many to remember, let alone list here, there are more than a few I would like to forget. Some of the better ones include the dark comedies Vampires (2010) and What We Do in the Shadows (2014).

Perhaps a bad sign, I forget my verdict on the three-part BBC/Netflix television series Dracula (2020), but I do recall being amused by the scene where Count Dracula (Claes Bang), after being imprisoned beneath the sea in his coffin for 123 years, resurfaces and is astonished by the technological advances of the modern world. "I knew the future would bring wonders," he tells his victim, "I did not know it would make them ordinary."

Considering Hollywood’s poor track record of late I shouldn’t have high expectations, but for some reason I do. Looking forward to seeing it in the theatre, my only complaint (thus far) is that Nosferatu is being theatrically released on Christmas Day.

Lily-Rose Depp as Ellen Hutter, the object of Count Orlok's unwanted affection

Watch Trailer

Time Bandits (2024)

The Supreme Being (aka God),
Time Bandits (1981)

“Is it in fact unfair to criticize a formerly great artist for his latter day sins, is it better to burn out or fade away?” ~ Barry Judd (Jack Black), High Fidelity (2000)

Unfortunately, as good as Hellboy and Nosferatu look, Apple TV’s upcoming Time Bandits series looks utterly dreadful. I had a whole tirade planned to attack the talentless hacks in the motion picture industry who incessantly set about ruining successful and beloved franchises, [5] however, I was sorry to learn, that director Terry Gilliam, the creator of the original Time Bandits (1981), is affiliated with this project. I could not be more disappointed.

Clearly marketed for children, one can say that I am not the target audience. My response to that would be, so was the original, and as far as I’m concerned it still holds up and makes me laugh. I know this because I recently watched it with my nephews and we were all rolling with laughter. Dark, gritty, smart, and irreverent, there was no sanitizing or dumbing down necessary. Its anti-materialistic message is timeless. Easily the greatest cinematic portrayal of Napoleon Bonaparte I’ve ever seen, it also boasts my favorite rendition of Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr.’s catchy ditty Me and My Shadow. The Robin Hood segment with John Cleese was comedic genius.

(Top) The real Time Bandits: Og, Strutter, Fidgit, Vermin, Randall, and Wally.
(Bottom) The wannabes: I couldn't be bothered to look up their names 

The two versions of the story feel very different. In the original movie, the diminutive highwaymen (“stunted little proles” as the Evil One calls them) have a brief disagreement over control of the map of the universe. “Do you want to be leader of this gang?” asks Randall. “No, we agreed no leader,” responds Strutter. “Right,” says Randall, “so shut up and do as I say.” Hilarious! In the remake, the new DEI time bandits are surrounded by masked warriors and a female samurai threatens to kill them if they don’t identify themselves. “I am Penelope,” says Lisa Kudrow, “and I am in effect the leader.” When all the swords are aimed at her, she cravenly changes her tune: “Fundamentally though we are all equal.” Absolute cringe! If this is the kind of drivel they’re marketing to children these days, it's no wonder they’re all messed up.

Trailers generally offer highlights and spoilers from the show to help entice viewership. If that is the best the new adaptation has to offer then they are in big trouble. Maybe it’s my twisted sense of humor, but I could not muster a single chuckle. Never mind the recent assassination attempt of President Trump, the ongoing political turmoil, or the coming global cataclysm, this garbage proves we are living in the darkest timeline.

It looks like they changed the Supreme Being into Neptune, Triton, or Poseidon

Watch Trailer (at your own risk)

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, July 19th, Feast of Saints Giusta and Rufina

Notes:
[1] Heavy Metal was a sci-fi and fantasy magazine published between 1977 and 2023. Filled with fantastic stories, characters, and artwork like Den (Richard Corben), RanXerox (Stefano Tamburini), and Druuna (Paolo Eleuteri Serpieri), my all-time favorite was a short one-off five-page story about an un-killable warrior named Kyrn by Simon Bisley and Garry Leach in the 1993 special issue Heavy Metal War Machine.
[2] Hellboy (2004) and The Golden Army (2008).
[3] The Crooked Man was a three-part miniseries published in 2008 by Dark Horse Comics in Hellboy issues 33 through 35.
[4] Ibid.
[5] The most unforgivable example to my mind was the desecration of J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings by Amazon’s irredeemable Rings of Power (2022).

Review — Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

Spoiler Alert!

‘Where must we go…

we who wander this wasteland in search of our better selves?’ ~ The First History Man [1]

After several unavoidable postponements, I finally got to see Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024), starring Anya Taylor-Joy and Alyla Browne as Furiosa. The fifth installment of director George Miller’s Mad Max franchise, the prequel takes place some 20 years before the action-packed events of Mad Max: Fury Road (2015). A spin-off tale set in post-apocalyptic Australia in the not-so-distant future, the film is curiously billed as a Mad Max Saga sans Mad Max (Max Rockatansky), the primary protagonist in all the previous films famously played by Mel Gibson and Tom Hardy. [2] 

A longtime fan of the franchise, I actually saw The Road Warrior in the theatre back in 1981 at the age of twelve and had a copy of Mad Max (1979) on RCA Capacitance Electronic Disc. The stories left such a strong impression on me, that to this day I foresee our dystopian future playing out more like Miller’s nightmarish vision than the more technologically advanced hellscapes predicted by Orwell (1984), Huxley (Brave New World), and others.

The current state of affairs and the frightening levels of corruption and incompetence in our halls of power all but ensure that we will never achieve the quixotic utopian futures envisioned by so many deluded dreamers. Forget about Campanella’s The City of the Sun (1602) or Faye’s A Day in the Life of Dimitri Leonidovich Oblomov (2010). Things are so bad that I think even John Carpenter’s Escape From New York (1981) and Mike Judge’s Idiocracy (2006) are too much to ask for.

Looking forward to seeing Furiosa for a while, I watched several YouTube videos about the movie and noticed that the critics shared a lot of the same criticisms and plaudits for the film. Not surprisingly I share many of them, but not all. Relatively late to the game, I will try not to be overly pedantic in my review.

First, unlike many of the other critics, I generally don’t have a problem with prequels. Just “because we already know what is going to happen,” doesn’t mean we cannot enjoy it. If a story is good and the movie is well-made it shouldn’t matter. For example, even though I know that the shark gets blown up at the end, I still enjoy watching Jaws (1975). Yes, we all knew Furiosa was going to lose her arm at some point, but I never imagined that it was her who tore off her chained mangled appendage like a she-wolf to escape her captors.

Many also complained about the poor computer-generated imagery (CGI). As someone who prefers practical effects and dislikes the overuse of CGI, I honestly did not find them to be all that bad or distracting. Strangely enough, I thought they were more noticeable in the trailers and teasers than in the actual film. [3]

While I would have preferred a new story about Max, Furiosa was very enjoyable. In addition to being visually and aurally stunning, the plot was strong, there was plenty of action, and the acting was all-around superb. As almost everyone pointed out, Anya Taylor-Joy as Furiosa and Chris Hemsworth as Dementus put in great performances and stole the show.

That being said, I still think Charlize Theron as Imperator Furiosa and Tom Hardy as Max in Fury Road were better. While Dementus was a great antagonist—certainly superior to Toecutter (Hugh Keays-Byrne) in Mad Max and Aunty Entity (Tina Turner) in Beyond Thunderdome—I believe Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne) in Fury Road and the “Ayatollah of rock ’n’ rolla,” Lord Humungus (Kjell Nilsson) in The Road Warrior, were arguably more iconic villains. Needless to say, Mel Gibson’s Max was a tour de force. 

Another common complaint I did not share is the length of the movie. Running for 2 hours and 29 minutes I was never bored. My only real problems with the film are the unknown fate of Immortan Joe’s son Scrotus (Josh Helman), who is conspicuously absent from Fury Road, and how the verdant Green Place decayed into the crow fens in such a short period of time. We’re told in Fury Road that the earth was poisoned, but what happened to the mountainous terrain, wind turbines, and large buildings? Even more mysterious (and horrifying) was how there was a morbidly obese woman in The Green Place. Though only a few seconds long, I found this seemingly trivial detail to be the most disappointing scene in all five movies.

Even with all the criticisms, the film is still worth seeing. Especially when you consider there are so few decent movies being made these days. The last one I saw in the theatre that I enjoyed was Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves (2023). Sorry Dune fans, but I thought director Denis Villeneuve’s recent adaptations were over-rated and not the cinematic masterpieces touted by many. [4] An unpopular opinion I know, but even though it was also unfaithful to Frank Herbert’s original tale, I’m partial to director David Lynch’s Dune (1984).

Sadly, despite being well-received by critics and the audience, Furiosa bombed at the box office. This and George Miller’s age (79) may prevent him from making his next planned project, Mad Max: The Wasteland. However unlikely, I’m still hoping to see Mel Gibson reprise his role as Max. Perhaps a silly pipe dream of mine, but this is no more ridiculous than me still holding out to see Arnold Schwarzenegger finally star as King Conan or Andrew Stanton making his sequels to John Carter of Mars (2012).

A worthy addition to the Mad Max world, Furiosa is a refreshing break from woke Hollywood’s incessant barrage of worthless trash. Mastermind George Miller gave us another epic high-octane action film without the mind-numbingly stupid storylines, tired old clichés, awful dialogue, and insincere, dogmatic, or sanctimonious progressive propaganda. Instead of another lame feminist girlboss, we got "the darkest of angels; the fifth Rider of the Apocalypse." [5]

By Giovanni di Napoli, July 5th, Feast of Sant'Antonio Maria Zaccaria

Notes
[1] Quote at the end of Fury Road.
[2] Technically Max makes a brief appearance nearly two hours into the film. For a couple of seconds, we see him eating canned food (Dinki-Di?) atop a hill next to his iconic V8 Interceptor (GT Falcon muscle car) while watching a severely mutilated Furiosa shamble across the Wasteland back towards the Citadel while carrion birds circle her. Though we don't see him, Max drags an unconscious Furiosa back to a maggoty old troglodyte woman living in a corpse-laden burrow outside the Citadel.
[3] No pleasing some folk, some of the same people who disliked the CGI also didn't like Chris Hemsworth's prosthetic nose.

[4] Dune: Part One (2021) and Dune: Part Two (2024).
[5] History Man describing Furiosa to Scrotus during the Forty-Day Wasteland War.

Celebrating Our Fifteenth Anniversary

Fountain pens and leather-bound journals

“The reactionary is not a nostalgic dreamer of a canceled past, but rather a hunter of sacred shades upon the eternal hills.” ~ Nicolás Gómez Dávila [1]

These past fifteen years of blogging have been very rewarding, to say the least. I learned a lot and had fun doing it. Not normally an impulsive person, I jumped in with very little forethought and planning, but we quickly found our niche. All I knew was that I was tired of the same old boring Italian American narratives being peddled at the time and wanted to create something more relatable and interesting (at least to me). [2]

I won’t deny there have been times I thought of quitting, but they were fleeting and quickly dismissed. To be sure, this was never because I was discouraged, doubted our cause, or had nothing to say; it was because I was physically exhausted (I sometimes suffer from insomnia) and felt it hampered my ability to competently do the job at hand. A day will come when I hang up my virtual inkwell, but God willing it won’t be any time soon. 

Instead of our usual anniversary address about the previous year (it was great, by the way) or our plans for the future (as always, we plan to conquer the world), I thought we’d change things up and answer a few frequently asked questions.

What is Neobourbonism?

Neobourbonism (Neoborbonismo), a response to the inadequacy of meridionalismo, the study and research of the economic and social issues of Southern Italy, means different things to different people. For some, it is simply “nostalgia for the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.” For others, like myself, it not only stands for the restoration of the old kingdom and the Neapolitan Bourbons but is also an aristocratic ideal to aspire to, even if the Kings were never to return to the throne.

Perfectly accordant with my reactionary (i.e., counter-revolutionary) belief system, legitimate Neobourbonism embraces the traditional principles of authority, hierarchy, and faith. Standing in stark contrast to the irreligious material consumerism of the modern era (Mammonism), it strives to recreate the traditional organic state free from liberal and democratic decadence. Looking to revitalize the aristocratic principle and restore spiritual authority to its rightful prominence, the wretches in politics and finance will be brought to heel.

To be sure, there are those who try to hijack the movement and co-opt its symbols and talking points to promote their own incompatible and pernicious ideologies. For instance, I’ve actually met so-called Marxist Neobourbons!?! One such confused individual even had the insignia of the Illustrious Royal Order of Saint Janauarius (Insigne Reale Ordine di San Gennaro) tattooed on his chest. 

Except for maybe the symbols of the Faith, there is nothing more perplexing than seeing godless communists in the trappings of one of the most reactionary Catholic dynasties.

Do you really believe in Southern Italian independence?

Yes, I do. However, only if it's going to be a truly sovereign state. A secular liberal-democratic “Republic of the Two Sicilies” has absolutely no appeal to me whatsoever. It would be purposeless to break away if it’s just going to be another socialist EU puppet state, only smaller. The one advantage I can see to this is maybe it would be easier to take back the reigns of power and reinstate the monarchy. Unless a stepping stone toward that goal, what would be the point?

Are you an academic? What are your qualifications and fields of expertise?

I am no academic, and considering the wretched state of academia today, this is a point of pride. I don't need or want validation from the academe. I am an autodidact and a dilettante. I immerse myself in books and art, visit libraries and museums, and attend readings and lectures whenever possible. With a background in fine arts, I studied painting, drawing and various other mediums for several years but withdrew because I despised the atmosphere. Let us just say that I did not see eye to eye with my instructors or fellow “artists.” Wholly disenchanted with the progressive art world, I regrettably chose to focus my attention on the female anatomy instead of my craft.

I still have a few of my old anatomy books from school

As for the blog, we don’t claim to speak for anyone but ourselves. Nothing we publish here should be considered the final word on any given topic. Although confident in our cause, we are still not arrogant enough to believe we are not without faults and shortcomings or have room to grow. Readers are encouraged to delve deeper and research on their own and come to their own educated conclusions.

The blog format and the complexity of the subject matter (as well as my limited, sometimes “pedantic,” writing style) make it difficult to neatly wrap things up in a few paragraphs. Plus, ideas develop and opinions change over time, and we continually grow and acquire knowledge. The most obvious example of this is I no longer believe there is a political solution for the crisis of modernity. We need to bypass politics altogether and focus on creating a spiritually ardent new order that will implement the changes necessary to reverse the devolution of the Western World. 

How did a third-generation Italian American become a Neobourbon counter-revolutionary?

I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, at a time when the borough still had a substantial and semi-cohesive Southern Italian population. Anything but a monolithic community, people of all stripes could be found, including (hold on to your seat) Fascists. Unlike overemotional leftists, I don’t mean this as a pejorative term for anyone right of Mao, I mean actual Fascist apologists. It was a way more intriguing time, where even misguided leftists (which, in my humble opinion, includes the Fascists) were sometimes interesting and, on rare occasions, more intellectually honest than today’s woke progressive ideologues. People were actually able to debate and hold conversations without melting down because someone held a different opinion. Doxing and cancel culture hadn’t yet reached the perverse levels it currently enjoys.

 

Naturally, my story begins with my beloved parents, grandparents and maternal great-grandparents (I was lucky enough to have known them). Passing on tradition, they instilled in me a healthy appreciation for the arts, literature and our ethnocultural heritage. Apolitical, they taught me to never trust the government or believe in democracy. Working class, they were socially conservative, patriotic, and upheld higher principles and traditional codes of honor and values. They taught me to be chivalrous, honest, hard-working and God-fearing. Sadly, I failed to live up to their high standards more times than I like to admit, especially during my rebellious and headstrong adolescent years.

This already durable foundation was later reinforced by my consumption of books, art and Classical music. Countless medieval romances, epic poems, and heroic sagas, not to mention theological, philosophical and historical works, captured my imagination and bolstered the aristocratic and religious principles I was raised to hold dear. Almost an embarrassment of riches, there is an inexhaustible trove of European high culture to lose oneself in, if one so wishes. Is it any wonder they want to do away with the Western Canon?

Unsurprisingly, even the pulp fiction and fantasy I read played a role. I was drawn to characters like Conan the Barbarian (Robert E. Howard), Kull of Atlantis (ibid), and John Carter of Mars (Edgar Rice Burroughs). Personifying virility, martial prowess, and heroism, these mighty conquerors won through strength of arms and daring glimmering thrones for themselves. Heck, even Tarzan of the Apes (ibid) was lord of the jungle. Throw in the Greco-Roman myths and legends, The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings trilogy (J.R.R. Tolkien), Beowulf (anonymous), and The Divine Comedy (Dante Alighieri) for good measure and you're almost assured to foster a little reactionary. Looking back, how could one not be a monarchist?

Unafraid to explore works seemingly at odds with my worldview, I put myself to the test and (I believe) came out stronger for it. For example, just because I read Marx, Gramsci and Sorel, that didn’t make me a Marxist, socialist, or a syndicalist. If anything, it has ensured that I am not. Likewise, just because I read Kremmerz that didn’t make me a hermeticist; Gentile, a Fascist; Marinetti, a futurist; de Sade, a sadist; and so on and so forth. All those thinkers and others way more “controversial” and “dangerous” have contributed to my development.

Some old issues of Nazione Napoletana and L'Alfiere

My discovery of Neobourbonism in the mid-1990s was a thunderclap from above. It was the perfect response to the prevalent anti-Duosiciliano bigotry I experienced from non-Italians and “Padanian American” leghisti. Yes, believe it or not, Lega Nord sympathizers (though rare) were once a thing in New York City. 

Similar to when I discovered the Traditional Latin Mass, I immediately felt at home and started participating whenever possible. Wanting to learn more, I scoured the web and bookshops for information and thrashed out talking points with anyone willing to discuss. 

A pan-monarchist, I support all Catholic legitimist movements. However, I admittedly have a lot more to learn about the disputes over the rights of succession of the various royal claimants. Due to my Southern Italian ancestry, I have a special devotion to the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, the land of my forefathers.

You can’t be serious?

I’m not blind, I am well aware of how unpopular and misunderstood these convictions are to the modern Duosiciliano American mindset, even to my own family members who had the same background and experiences growing up. Not one to conform to the herd mentality, I refuse to “get with the times,” abandon tradition, or submit to the apathy and nihilism besetting Western man. Doing my best to stand firm against the corrupting tide of modernity, my love of God and filial respect for my ancestors is the driving force behind my reactionary stance. I assure you, this is no game and I am quite serious. My friends don't call me the "Serious Man" for nothing.

~ Giovanni di Napoli, March 21st, The Feasts of Bl. Maria Candida of the Eucharist and San Benedetto da Nursia

Notes

[1] Scholia To An Implicit Text by Nicolás Gómez-Dávila, Bilingual Selected Edition, Villegas Editores, 2013, p. 265

[2] When founding the blog, I was enthralled with the writings of German Conservative Revolutionaries and Grécistes, which is why the original title was Magna GRECE.