I’ll take a guess that we won’t see any of those explosions, smoke and chaos. Heck, we’ve been told about them, isn’t that enough for our ungrateful little hearts?
I still can’t imagine what a high school graduation ceremony has to do with a space adventure film. I guess that’s a failure on my part, because Pete Rossini is such a great writer that he never writes terrible things. He wrote The Amazing Mr. Sponge, for God’s sake! That’s as awesome as you can get without crushing someone’s windpipe.
It’s hard not to notice how the whole Starbuck Jones keeps diminishing. First, it was an epic space adventure with a hero who flew to alien worlds with his robot side-kick. There were aliens and death capsules and an octo-shark. It looked like it might be something…fun. Entertaining. Something expansive and open for adventure, like the Star Trek universe.
Then it started shrinking. Shooting in Cleveland? Well…okay, some CGI overlays could make it appear futuristic. A present-day school bus in a scene? By accident, and the director wants to keep it? Um, well, I dunno…
And now we’re shooting a contemporary graduation ceremony. That seems to have done it–Starbuck Jones has been brought down to earth.
Should the Starbuck Jones movie ever see the light of day, it will consist of Starbuck and Jupiter sitting on the couch watching TV. They’ll be dressed the way suburbanites dress today. They won’t say a word to each other, and we’ll never get a look at what they’re watching. And it’ll go on for two hours.
Or, you know, it might be something fantastic.
That seems to be the consistent nature of Funky Winkerbean: lower your expectations. No, no, lower than that. Holly travels to complete Cory’s comic book collection. Will she learn to wheel-deal, develop her killer instincts? Nope, people will just hand them to her. A Funky-Dick Tracy crossover? Oh cool, maybe shoot-outs and a murder! Nope, Dick and Sam will haul boxes of comic books. And now Starbuck Jones is taking place at Westview High.
I will give the strip this: it has really taught me the limits of my imagination. Every time a story begins, I posit that it will be the dullest, least-creative thing I can imagine. And I’m always wrong.