Tag: Cindy

Ho Ho Ho

So it took until today’s strip for anyone to think about contacting Marianne?

I guess that is consistent with last week, when Mr. Director waited until Mason showed up at the lot to dress him down for his excursion to Marianne’s mom’s abode. We see today that he has a phone, so obviously that wasn’t stopping him from calling Mason last week, or Marianne anytime between last week and now. Must not be a talker… or he knows Mason screens and ignores his calls (which makes some sense, Mason makes all the decisions on this lot, after all). Marianne apparently does the same.

I consider myself fairly fluent in comic strip language, but am quite unsure as to what exactly panel 3’s wavy-border is supposed to signify. As I am sure most all of you know, wavy panel borders typically mean that what we are seeing is a dream/daydream, hallucination, or flashback. However, Marianne’s trip to the Hollywood sign began in an un-wavy panel (and also in color, for… reasons?) back on Sunday. I guess it is not unfair to assume that Marianne’s scenes are supposed to actually be occurring but in a surreal state, but it comes across more like the wavy panel border is being used to signal a change in setting. This is really awkward. Nice shot of the “HO” sign, though.

Technicolor Difficulties

TFH, you are a tough act to follow, I stand in line… and apparently it is my turn. Hello folks, billytheskink here to do my level best as I take you through Christmas. Remember, it’s the most wonderful time of the year, no matter what Funky Winkerbean has in store for us.

The world’s gone grayscale in today’s strip.  What could this mean?

Tonal shift?  Dream sequence?  Reference to comic book or film that no one under the age of 83 remembers?  That the syndicate colorist up and quit, their conscience finally getting the best of them?  So many possibilities, but we will probably never know the true story.

Meanwhile, things are happening:
– Mason has psychoanalyzed the internet.
– Cindy thinks a movie set is the perfect place to break out her little black dress.
– The tablet that Mr. Director was thrusting at Mason last week has morphed into a laptop.
– The Starbuck Jones crew has made sure to properly light today’s trio as they crowd around their Pineapple Abacaxibook.
– We learn that Marianne owns a 1991 Mercury Capri convertible.

Well, That De-escalated Quickly!

Sorry, snarkers: the catfight between Cindy and Marianne will not be televised, or uh, comic-strip-tized, uh…we don’t get to see it. It doesn’t happen, apparently, because Mason’s explained to Cindy that it’s not as it seems, and very quickly and convincingly, too. This plotline has become a complete shit show, even by Batiuk’s nonexistent standards. He spends months setting up this conflict between Cindy and Marianne, brings it to a climax in the most contrived way, and then Mason explains it all away and Cindy buys it…offscreen. The paternalistic Director Guy chimes in: “Hey! Hold it down, kids. Don’t get excited! (Who’s excited?) We’ve already put out a corrected story.” Who’s “we“? Don’t “corrected stories” come from the source of the incorrect story? Is he talking about their publicist? “We” have no idea. Nor have we any idea why that massive-headed freak in panel 3—we’ll have to assume it’s Marianne in a “wife beater” undershirt—is just now seeing and is completely aghast at the “DMZ” story.

Exclamation Point!

“Amazing” is one of those words that’s completely lost its meaning from overuse. What amazes me is that Jess is still standing there holding up that giant video camera. Something else that amazes me about today’s strip is how Cindy checks her phone and the first thing she sees is the tabloid headline and photo of Masone and Marianne. Did somebody see it and send it to her? Does she subscribe to “DMZ’s” mobile alerts? No matter. Batiuk has spent months establishing Cindy’s insecurity and self-doubt, and almost as much time setting up a showdown between her and Mason’s sexy (though sweet and innocent) co-star. Shit’s about to get real, yo.

St. Anger

So having served his six months in the joint, Cliff decided his acting career was over and retreated to New York to spend sixty years awaiting rescue by those meddling Westview kids. Thankfully, other blacklistees, such as Lena Horne, Orson Welles, Arthur Miller and others, managed to pick up the pieces and go on to continued success. Cliff basically blacklisted himself.