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).

Binging on Fiction: A Welcome Blast From My Geeky Past

Some choice reads from my bookhoard

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… (1)

Eating up a lot of fantasy and fiction of late, I revisited many old favorites, like Hermann Hesse’s The Glass Bead Game, Ernst Jünger’s Eumeswil, and Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange. I also tackled Robert A. Heinlein’s Starship Troopers and Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club, both of which have been on my reading list for some time. 

Every now and then I go through these phases and glut myself on certain subjects or authors until I’ve exhausted the material or been taken with another topic. Inspired in part by the ongoing J.R.R. Tolkien exhibit at the Morgan Library, it was doubtlessly the recent loss of my father that really led me to reading all this escapist material. At first I just wanted something unchallenging, but well written and diverting enough to help distract my harrowed mind, then it quickly snowballed into an expansive menagerie of speculative fiction (Fantasy, SF and Grimdark).

Robert E. Howard’s The Ultimate Triumph, illustrated by Frank Frazetta and The Complete Chronicles of Conan, illustrated by Les Edwards

During this stretch, I especially enjoyed rereading the epic sword and sorcery tales of Robert E. Howard featuring Conan the Barbarian and the last Pictish king, Bran Mak Morn. It’s been awhile since I last leafed through them and almost forgot how graphic and “politically incorrect” they are. Included in these, of course, were the stories by L. Sprague de Camp and Lin Carter, who took on the Conan saga, somewhat controversially, after Howard’s untimely death in 1936.

While looking for something new, I unexpectedly stumbled upon L. Sprague and Catherine Crook de Camp’s The Incorporated Knight (Baen Books, 1988) and The Pixilated Peeress (Del Ray Books, 1991), which surprisingly enough are set in an alternative universe where Naples, not Rome, was the seat of Empire. Though they’re nothing like Howard’s pseudo-legendary Hyborian Age, the books are filled with action, adventure, and amusing mishaps and escapades.

Deluxe editions of Robert E. Howard’s Savage Tales of Solomon Kane and Bran Mak Morn: The Last King, illustrated by Gary Gianni

I always liked discovering stories with connections to southern Italy, even tenuous ones, like Mary Shelley’s Victor Frankenstein being born in Naples (2) or Robert E. Howard’s proud kingdom of Aquilonia being named after a town in Avellino. Interestingly, Howard also named his proto-Celtic Cimmerians, the sturdy stock from which the "black-haired, sullen-eyed" Conan sprang, after the nomadic Indo-European tribe of troglodytes who settled in the “lonely lands” of Cumae near Naples. (3)

Strangely enough, I remember seeing both of the de Camp’s books at the Brooklyn Public Library when I was younger and passed them up for others with more appealing (i.e. explicit) cover art. Luckily for me Frank Frazetta, Sanjulián, Gary Gianni and others, illustrated some of the greats, like Tarzan, John Carter of Mars and Solomon Kane. However, one can’t help but wonder what other entertaining reads I missed out on because I didn’t much fancy the packaging. To be sure, this was just one of many unfortunate youthful indiscretions. 

L. Sprague and Catherine Crook de Camp’s The Incorporated Knight and The Pixilated Peeress

Without giving too much away, The Incorporated Knight is the story of Eudoric Dambertson, esquire, a budding nobleman from the Kingdom of Locania. It begins with the enterprising lad setting off on a quest to slay a dragon in the faraway lands of Pathenia, east of the Neapolitan Empire. He hopes the heroic deed, plus two yards of dragon hide, will help him get knighted and win the enchanter Baldonius' daughter Lusina's lovely hand in marriage.

The Pixilated Peeress recounts the tale of Sergeant Thorolf Zigramson of the Fourth Commonwealth Foot and the haughty, yet captivating Yvette, Countess of Grintz. While trying to escape the unwanted advances of Duke Gondomar of Landai, Yvette is accidentally transformed into a cephalopod by the slightly senescent sorcerer, Dr. Bardi. In an effort to change her back, Thorolf undertakes a series of hapless ventures, including a rather disturbing encounter with Bza, a monstrously ugly trolless.

Though not exactly what I was looking for, the de Camp’s books were worthwhile and fun.

A big fan of Marvel's old Savage Sword of Conan comics, I especially enjoyed the art of John Buscema and Tony de Zuniga. The issue on the right was the first comic book I ever bought without parental supervision. Ten-years-old, I used my allowance and it was at John’s Sweet Shop in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn

A welcome blast from my more geeky past, the stories afforded me the opportunity to temporarily lose myself during this trying spell and called to mind a simpler time, when my father use to take me to comic book conventions and flea markets around the city so I can buy old pulp magazines (Savage Sword, Weird Tales, etc.) and paperbacks. What’s more, this interlude has reminded me how rewarding “less weighty” material can be and that I need to make a concerted effort to read more fiction.  

                                         ~ John Napoli, Brooklyn, March 12, 2019, The Feast of San Gregorio Magno

My 1979 Comic Art Con button with detail of the premiere issue of the Savage Sword of Conan the Barbarian (August 1974) featuring the Cimmerian and Red Sonja, the "She-Devil with a sword," illustrated by the great Boris Vallejo

Notes:

(1) Robert E. Howard, “The Phoenix on the Sword,” The Complete Chronicles of Conan, 2006

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 - Nemedia, Ophir, Brythunia, Hyperborea, Zamora with its dark-haired women and towers of spider-haunted mystery, Zingara with its chivalry, Koth that bordered on the pastoral lands of Shem, Stygia with its shadow-guarded tombs, Hyrkania whose riders wore steel and silk and gold. But the proudest kingdom of the world was Aquilonia, reigning supreme in the dreaming west. Hither came Conan, the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandaled feet. ~ The Nemedian Chronicles

(2) Mary Shelley, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus, 1831 edition

From Italy they visited Germany and France. I, their eldest child, was born at Naples, and as an infant accompanied them in their rambles.

(3) Homer, Odyssey, Book XI

There, in a lonely land and gloomy cells,
The dusky nation of Cimmeria dwells;
The sun ne’er views the uncomfortable seats,
When radiant he advances or retreats.
Unhappy race, whom endless night invades,
Clouds the dull air, and wraps them in shades.

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

Remembering a Titan — Frank Frazetta

Some Favorites: Sun Goddess, Death Dealer, and Against the gods

By Giovanni di Napoli

For as long as I can remember, I've been drawing. One of my earliest memories was a water color painting I did of the Red Baron's triplane soaring through the sky. It was nothing special, but my parents made so much of a fuss over it that I never forgot. I was fascinated with soldiers and war and as I grew older, my pictures grew more graphic and detailed.

Self Portrait

An early influence in my life was Frank Frazetta. I'll never forget the first time I saw his work. A friend showed me the cover of his uncle's Molly Hatchet album featuring Frazetta's "Death Dealer", a fierce warrior mounted on a nightmarish black steed. It was like an epiphany. I sought out other works by the artist, which led me to the jacket covers of several science fiction and fantasy novels, sparking my interest in the stories of Robert E. Howard (Conan) and Edgar Rice Burroughs (Tarzan).

Imitating Frazetta, my own renderings became more fantastic, yet more realistic because I began to focus on anatomy. I also started to include scantily clad damsels in distress to my drawings which, predictably, got me in trouble on several occasions in Catholic elementary school.

Frazetta's images depict aesthetic beauty and unapologetic virility, and as a healthy, idealistic adolescent boy they appealed to me on some primal level. Not just pretty pictures, they served to transmit archetypical ideals—valor, strength, beauty—traditionally passed on through myths and legends. It is said a picture is worth a thousand words; Frazetta's spoke volumes to me.

Triumphant Heroes: 

Pompeii's Theseus and the Minotaur and Frazetta's Conan the Barbarian

It wasn't until I started high school that I received proper art training. I was lucky enough to have a teacher who took me under her wing and helped nurture my gift. She introduced me to the works of many artists (including Salvador Dali and Auguste Rodin—still among my favorites) and new mediums (it was the first time I worked with terracotta and made pottery). Of course, as I went on to college and grew older my tastes and interests broadened, and I developed a style all my own, but 'til this day the art of Frank Frazetta inspires me. Its heroic message is eternal.

My limited edition signed print 

from the "Women of the Ages" portfolio

Frank Frazetta was born on February 9, 1928 in Brooklyn, New York. He was the oldest of four children in a tight-knit Sicilian family. A child prodigy, he was only eight years-old when he enrolled in the Brooklyn Academy of Fine Art under the tutelage of Michael Falanga.

By sixteen he was apprenticing for John Giunta at Bernard Bailey Studio and published his first comic work, Snowman. He soon moved on to Fiction House Comics, then to Standard Publishing, where he continued to hone his craft working under the direction of Ralph Mayo. Turning down an offer from Disney Studios, Frazetta worked in comics in various capacities until about 1961.

He met Eleanor Kelly in 1952 and fell madly in love. They married four years later. Ellie helped promote her husband's career by selling reproductions of his work. She would later be the driving force behind the Frazetta Museum. They had four children together: Frank Jr., Billy, Holly and Heidi. Ellie died of cancer on July 17, 2009.

Indomitable

With the decline of the comic industry and struggling to provide for his growing family, Frazetta found work drawing for adult themed magazines, including Playboy's titillating comic strip, Little Annie Fanny. When opportunity knocked he moved on to illustrating book and magazine covers, changing forever the fantasy/adventure and publishing industries with his dramatic portrayals of Conan the Barbarian.

In 1964 his caricature of Ringo Star for Mad Magazine caught the attention of United Artist Studios. They hired him to do the movie poster for the Peter Sellers film, What's New Pussycat? (1975), thus beginning a long lucrative relationship with Hollywood. This eventually led to his collaboration with director Ralph Bakshi on the animated sword and sorcery film Fire & Ice (1983). Although the movie didn't fare well at the box office, Frazetta's movie poster, depicting the heroes Darkwolf, Larn and Teegra fending-off "Nekron's dogs," is among his best.

Fire and Ice

During the 1970s Frazetta won all kinds of accolades from his peers, including the Award of Excellence in 1972 and 1974 from the Society of Illustrators. In 1975 Bantum books published The Fantastic Art of Frank Frazetta, the first of many retrospectives of his most popular paintings. Reviews were overwhelmingly positive and according to artist Arnie Fenner, "his seductive oils, were immediately compared to Rembrandt." (Icon, 1998) With over 400,000 copies printed to meet demands, the book was a huge success.

In 1998 he was elected to the Illustrators Hall of Fame by the Society of Illustrators. Two years later the third incarnation of the Frazetta Museum opened in Bushkill, Pennsylvania, making his life's work accessible to his fans. Painting with fire, a definitive documentary spanning the course of his illustrious career, was released on DVD in 2003.

After battling illness for several years he lost the use of his right hand. Instead of giving up he taught himself to draw with his left. Frazetta suffered a stroke and died on May 10, 2010. He was 82 years-old.

In another time and place, it’s not hard to imagine Frazetta's work gracing the naves and domes of Europe's monumental cathedrals and palaces, or (traveling still further back) the walls of Roman villas. Princes and popes would have courted Frazetta's talents just like modern art directors did. They would have marveled over his amazing speed and bravura the same way they did with the great Neapolitan painter Luca "fà-presto" Giordano (1634-1705). Many of Frazetta's most popular pieces were painted in just a day or two.

Ellie Frazetta

Whether you like his art or not, the fact remains that Frazetta was one of the most original and influential illustrators of the twentieth century, defining the fantasy genre and inspiring generations of artists. In addition to comics, movie posters, books and album covers, he created fine art as well. Frazetta's personal paintings are among the artist's best. The portraits of his wife and family are wonderfully executed and have been compared to the works of the great American painter John Singer Sergeant (1856-1925).

I have a decent collection of art books in my personal library and I'm not ashamed to to say that among my assortment of biographies Frazetta is well represented. Admittedly, this has more to do with availability than by design. I wish I could find more than one book dealing with Bernardo Cavallino, Francesco Messina or Vincenzo Gemito, let alone find a single book about Francesco Solimena, Corrado Giaquinto or Giuseppe Sanmartino. Southern Italian artists clearly do not get the same attention as their northern counterparts. Perhaps this shows how influential the Sicilian from Brooklyn's art really is. When talking about the history of illustration Frank Frazetta cannot be ignored.

Bibliography:
• Frank Frazetta: The Living Legend, Frank and Eleanor Frazetta, 1981.
• Icon: A retrospective by the Grand Master of Fantastic Art, Frank Frazetta edited by Arnie & Cathy Fenner, Underwood Books, 1998.
• Legacy: Selected Paintings & Drawings by the Grand Master of Fantastic Art, Frank Frazetta edited by Arnie & Cathy Fenner, Underwood Books, 1999.
• Testament: The Life and Art of Frank Frazetta edited by Arnie & Cathy Fenner, Underwood Books, 2001.

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 

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

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

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

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).