First off, I must give an "inspired by" credit to Mssr. Rogers' recent blog post on Kung Fu Monkey, as well as to Tim McIntire for starting this Geek Council thread over on the Comedy Studio Kvetch Board.
I suppose this is how blogs and the internet work, where it's a big ol' stew of ideas and collective thinking, constantly inspiring, spring boarding, and feeding off of other e-bits of information and concepts. I apologize in advance for repeating things I have already posted on the Kvetch Board, but I am treating this blog entry as an expansion on a previously discussed topic. It's like a special addition with extended footage. Yes, I am just as passionate about my comic books as I am about politics. No, I don't see a problem with that. Yes, I am a geek.
Okay. Now are we all caught up? Good. Because here's what I want to talk about.
This is Dr. Doom? Dr. Doom. Supreme Monarch of Latveria. Rival to Reed Richards. The guy who stole the Silver Surfer's cosmic power and once kicked the Beyonder's ass. Possibly the baddest baddie of 'em all in the Marvel Universe. And he looks like he got his outfit from the Cooper kiddie's costume store.
Great. ANOTHER Marvel movie where the baddest-ass super-villain around looks like a Power Ranger villain. I don't feel like this really conveys the power and the majesty that is Doom. I mean, I always envisioned that a real-life Dr. Doom would look like he's wearing perhaps a Knight's suit of armor, with some Roman and ancient Japanese flourishes. Something regal, yet threatening. I know they have the whole Darth Vader thing going against them, which isn't their fault, but still. A little thought and creative brainstorming, and they could have come up with an inventive and frightening look.
Spider-Man was still a great movie, despite the Green Goblin looking like a Power Ranger, so I will reserve final judgment until I see the actual movie. But, for now, when I see the movie version of Dr. Doom, all I can envision is this scenario:
*Ding-dong*
"And who are you supposed to be, little boy?"
"I am Doom. I demand candy."
"What an adorable plastic mask."
"Bah! Doom has no use for mere plastic, woman. Doom's METAL mask has been minted by the delicate hands of Tibetan Monks and crafted solely for Doom - for only Doom, alone, is worthy. Melted in the searing heat, shaped by my anger and thirst for vengeance, the fearsome metal that covers my scarred visage weighs heavy upon the head of Doom, with steel colder than Doom's icy heart. Doom is not adorable. Doom is power. Doom is master of his destiny. Doom is - -"
"Would you like a Snickers or a Baby Ruth?"
"Doom prefers the refreshingly creamy caramel and crunchy nuget of a Snickers."
Worry not for Doom and his shabby treatment at the hands of Hollywood infidels. For Doom endures, as he always has. Doom seeks the approval of no man, certainly not some insignificant dweeb with a laptop and a handful of useless links. Doom, ruler of Latveria and Master of all he surveys, scoffs at such plebians. Now leave Doom be, for tonight, Doom broods silently in his castle. And weeps. BAH!
* Above picture by comic book artist extraordinaire, John Byrne.
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