So, because what the hell and why not, I will be sharing brief thoughts on new Fall TV shows as I see them. Note: I will not be trying out every new show. Life is too short.
Gotham
My initial inclination was to give this a pass, not having really been a watcher of any TV superhero shows in the recent past (I'm pretty sure the only episodes of Smallville I have ever seen were the pilot and the series finale). On top of that, the concept wasn't really all that intriguing to me. A series set in the Gotham of Bruce Wayne's lonely youth, with the criminal element that would eventually become his rogues gallery interacting in various nascent forms? Meh. But a few critics I respect suggested there was something good here - and if I wasn't the biggest fan of creator Bruno Heller's previous show, The Mentalist, I liked it well enough - so I gave it a go.
Look. I don't need every TV show about cops and criminals to be The Wire. But when you make Maurice Levy a cop and Bill Rawls the head of Gotham's biggest crime family I start to associate. I can't help it. That said, a pulpy take on a cop show could certainly work - but this just felt very tired and, very oddly given how much I had read about the high quality of the production, cheap. That opening sequence with a proto-Catwoman stealing some milk and scampering up fire escapes and on rooftops just felt very old-fashioned visually - like boilerplate action direction from any number of 90s syndicated action shows. The fight between Jim Gordon and a framed criminal halfway through felt similarly lazy and half-baked, with the addition of a few POV shots of Gordon chasing the guy through a crowded restaurant just bizarrely out of place. More importantly, the story itself never really grabbed me. Adding a complicated conspiracy on top of the Waynes' murder feels unnecessary to me. It's the same mistake Burton's Batman made. We don't need Batman to be revenging the actual killer; it's the randomness of the crime that makes it so horrific, not that his father was killed because of what will undoubtedly be byzantine connections to the Gotham mob.
So for me, Gotham is pretty much a dead end. Which is really OK, when you come down to it. It's not as if I am hurting for another hour-long drama to add to the watch list.
Until Whenever
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TV. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Friday, May 13, 2011
Paging Matthew Broderick
So I was hearing that Hugh Grant almost replaced Charlie Sheen on Two and a Half Men. And when that deal fell through, we heard today that Ashton Kutcher has been cast instead. What both these data points suggest is that the producers are looking to cast a character at least roughly in the Charlie Harper mold--a womanizing, drunk, misogynist (no offense to Hugh Grant, who I actually like, or Kutcher, who I kind of don't and yet have nor reason to believe to be a drunk or woman-hater).
And, to me, this is entirely wrong. By writing a new character with similar traits, you pretty much will automatically get a character that is an imitation of Sheen's. Not that many couldn't play the role better*, but then the game becomes comparing the Sheen show to the new show. You've got a situation where every character interaction and plot has to compete with the memory of how that same type of interaction or plot was dealt with before. Which, in my estimation, would be death to the show.
But what if they wrote a character that existed on the other side of Cryer's nebbishy Alan, and made Alan the wild-by-comparison one? A kind of Sancho Panza thing, where Cryer's character has become more like Sheen's character over the years**. So we get someone more repressed, nebbishy, straightlaced to play off of Cryer. To me that's a much better solution. It keeps intact the odd couple dynamic that is at the heart of the show and yet opens up an entirely new possibility of dynamics. And it allows Cryer to nominally take over the "lead" role, a position he has no doubt earned, and earned hard.
Am I nuts?
Until Whenever
*During the whole Sheen brouhaha, what insulted my sense of right and wrong most was that Sheen believed that it was his talent that was the key ingredient to the show's success, when it's always been very clear to me that many, many actors could have played Charlie Harper better and with more skill.
**Which he has - when the show started Alan was a much more stable, whitebread, moral character. Over the course of the show he became as sexually exaggerated and, in different ways, out-of-control as Charlie.
So I was hearing that Hugh Grant almost replaced Charlie Sheen on Two and a Half Men. And when that deal fell through, we heard today that Ashton Kutcher has been cast instead. What both these data points suggest is that the producers are looking to cast a character at least roughly in the Charlie Harper mold--a womanizing, drunk, misogynist (no offense to Hugh Grant, who I actually like, or Kutcher, who I kind of don't and yet have nor reason to believe to be a drunk or woman-hater).
And, to me, this is entirely wrong. By writing a new character with similar traits, you pretty much will automatically get a character that is an imitation of Sheen's. Not that many couldn't play the role better*, but then the game becomes comparing the Sheen show to the new show. You've got a situation where every character interaction and plot has to compete with the memory of how that same type of interaction or plot was dealt with before. Which, in my estimation, would be death to the show.
But what if they wrote a character that existed on the other side of Cryer's nebbishy Alan, and made Alan the wild-by-comparison one? A kind of Sancho Panza thing, where Cryer's character has become more like Sheen's character over the years**. So we get someone more repressed, nebbishy, straightlaced to play off of Cryer. To me that's a much better solution. It keeps intact the odd couple dynamic that is at the heart of the show and yet opens up an entirely new possibility of dynamics. And it allows Cryer to nominally take over the "lead" role, a position he has no doubt earned, and earned hard.
Am I nuts?
Until Whenever
*During the whole Sheen brouhaha, what insulted my sense of right and wrong most was that Sheen believed that it was his talent that was the key ingredient to the show's success, when it's always been very clear to me that many, many actors could have played Charlie Harper better and with more skill.
**Which he has - when the show started Alan was a much more stable, whitebread, moral character. Over the course of the show he became as sexually exaggerated and, in different ways, out-of-control as Charlie.
Thursday, May 05, 2011
Game of Thrones – Episode 3
Apologies for the tardiness, but a business trip combined with my still-somewhat-atrophied blogging rhythms combined in maleficent ways this week. I’m hoping to get back on tracks as we go along.
Anyhoo, for episode three, the scene I wanted to focus on is the Baratheon scene, with the king and two members of his Kingsguard discussing their first kills. (A side note: I find it interesting that, three episodes in, the show still hasn’t bothered to explicate what Jaime’s role in the King’s inner circle really is, or by extension the notion of the Kingsguard itself. If this is simply a matter of economy, with that kind of detail held off until needed, I can live with it. If it’s supposed to be a matter of inference, though, with the fact that Jaime killed the previous king and is around this one a lot (and guarding the door here) meant to suggest what the Kingsguard is, a sort of Westerosi version of the secret service, well, I think they may be stretching with how much an audience can be expected to infer.)
This, as far as I remember, is a scene not found in the books, and yet I can see why it was created here. As the season progresses, we need to learn more about our flawed king, and in the book Robert is not one of the POV characters. So Benioff and Weiss have created this scene, which does a lot of work towards deepening our understanding of Robert’s character.
Perhaps what I found most fascinating about this scene was the control and subtlety Addy played Robert’s drunkenness with. It wasn’t until we had progressed somewhat into the scene that I realized how drunk Robert was, and I love how Addy demonstrated that inebriation through a bitter, depressed anger, and not as sloppiness or giddiness. When the scene starts, Robert is peering into an empty glass and talking about how long it’s been “since his first.” We are meant to take a sexual meaning, and to be somewhat discomfited when he turns to the elderly knight in the room and asks if he remembers his first.
Of course, it’s not sex he is talking about but death. After the elderly knight (who readers of the books can infer is Ser Barristan Belmy, but whose identity the show leaves unclarified) briefly describes his first kill, Robert goes into a monologue about his first, a “dumb, high-born lad, thinking he could end the rebellion with a single swing of his sword.” It’s during this monologue that I first caught on to the degree of Robert’s drunkenness. Something in the way he hits the words “Gods, I was strong then” hints at the raging despair the wine has loosened. It’s a wonderful line reading, with the sense of loss this once-mighty king feels made palpable.
There’s another great character moment a few beats later; as Robert recounts the boy’s impassioned cry of “wait, wait” he spits out a guttural, dry, bitter laugh that hints at the impact that first kill had. It’s then that he utters the line that at least two prominent critics singled out to lead their initial reviews of the series: “They never tell you how they all shit themselves. They don’t put that part in the songs.”
It’s a great line that, yes, could serve as a sort of thesis statement for the series as a whole, in the way it suggests a story meant to depict the harsher realities fantasy typically glosses over) but even more notable is the far-off look that haunts Addy’s eyes as he says the words. “Stupid boy.”
Robert finishes his reverie by imaging the life of domestic quietude that could have awaited this headstrong boy had he lingered on the edge of the battlefield like his smarter friends, seemingly linking it to his own life of fat and danger-less peace and quiet, and marriage to a woman he does not love. Seemingly in an attempt to shake off the haunting memories he has conjured up he barks at the waiting serving boy for more wine. Turning his churned-up anger at the server, a Lannister cousin of some sort, we get a sense of Robert’s contempt for the family he’s married into.
Calling for Jaime, who had been guarding the door, he taunts him, asking to hear his story as well. “What did the Mad King say when you stabbed him in the back?” he asks.
“He said the same thing he’d been saying for hours. Burn them all.”
The look in Addy’s eyes at this moment (and it is almost the last shot in the scene) is just stunning, a fearful mixture of guilt, sorrow, and drunken, wasted rage.
What I love about this scene is the way it takes the time to key us into Robert as a man and as a king. We learn much about him – that his excessive gluttony and carousing ways mask to some degree an angry, very despairing man, and that his hatred for the Targaryeans has deep roots. In a conversation last episode we heard that Ned’s brother and father has been burned by Arys Targaryean, here we get another data point that describes Viserys’ and Daenerys’ grandfather. It’s all starting to add up to indicate the depth of Robert’s hatred for the Targaryeans, and, in its own oblique way, this scene does much to inform our understanding of Viserys and Daenerys as well.
Until Whenever
Apologies for the tardiness, but a business trip combined with my still-somewhat-atrophied blogging rhythms combined in maleficent ways this week. I’m hoping to get back on tracks as we go along.
Anyhoo, for episode three, the scene I wanted to focus on is the Baratheon scene, with the king and two members of his Kingsguard discussing their first kills. (A side note: I find it interesting that, three episodes in, the show still hasn’t bothered to explicate what Jaime’s role in the King’s inner circle really is, or by extension the notion of the Kingsguard itself. If this is simply a matter of economy, with that kind of detail held off until needed, I can live with it. If it’s supposed to be a matter of inference, though, with the fact that Jaime killed the previous king and is around this one a lot (and guarding the door here) meant to suggest what the Kingsguard is, a sort of Westerosi version of the secret service, well, I think they may be stretching with how much an audience can be expected to infer.)
This, as far as I remember, is a scene not found in the books, and yet I can see why it was created here. As the season progresses, we need to learn more about our flawed king, and in the book Robert is not one of the POV characters. So Benioff and Weiss have created this scene, which does a lot of work towards deepening our understanding of Robert’s character.
Perhaps what I found most fascinating about this scene was the control and subtlety Addy played Robert’s drunkenness with. It wasn’t until we had progressed somewhat into the scene that I realized how drunk Robert was, and I love how Addy demonstrated that inebriation through a bitter, depressed anger, and not as sloppiness or giddiness. When the scene starts, Robert is peering into an empty glass and talking about how long it’s been “since his first.” We are meant to take a sexual meaning, and to be somewhat discomfited when he turns to the elderly knight in the room and asks if he remembers his first.
Of course, it’s not sex he is talking about but death. After the elderly knight (who readers of the books can infer is Ser Barristan Belmy, but whose identity the show leaves unclarified) briefly describes his first kill, Robert goes into a monologue about his first, a “dumb, high-born lad, thinking he could end the rebellion with a single swing of his sword.” It’s during this monologue that I first caught on to the degree of Robert’s drunkenness. Something in the way he hits the words “Gods, I was strong then” hints at the raging despair the wine has loosened. It’s a wonderful line reading, with the sense of loss this once-mighty king feels made palpable.
There’s another great character moment a few beats later; as Robert recounts the boy’s impassioned cry of “wait, wait” he spits out a guttural, dry, bitter laugh that hints at the impact that first kill had. It’s then that he utters the line that at least two prominent critics singled out to lead their initial reviews of the series: “They never tell you how they all shit themselves. They don’t put that part in the songs.”
It’s a great line that, yes, could serve as a sort of thesis statement for the series as a whole, in the way it suggests a story meant to depict the harsher realities fantasy typically glosses over) but even more notable is the far-off look that haunts Addy’s eyes as he says the words. “Stupid boy.”
Robert finishes his reverie by imaging the life of domestic quietude that could have awaited this headstrong boy had he lingered on the edge of the battlefield like his smarter friends, seemingly linking it to his own life of fat and danger-less peace and quiet, and marriage to a woman he does not love. Seemingly in an attempt to shake off the haunting memories he has conjured up he barks at the waiting serving boy for more wine. Turning his churned-up anger at the server, a Lannister cousin of some sort, we get a sense of Robert’s contempt for the family he’s married into.
Calling for Jaime, who had been guarding the door, he taunts him, asking to hear his story as well. “What did the Mad King say when you stabbed him in the back?” he asks.
“He said the same thing he’d been saying for hours. Burn them all.”
The look in Addy’s eyes at this moment (and it is almost the last shot in the scene) is just stunning, a fearful mixture of guilt, sorrow, and drunken, wasted rage.
What I love about this scene is the way it takes the time to key us into Robert as a man and as a king. We learn much about him – that his excessive gluttony and carousing ways mask to some degree an angry, very despairing man, and that his hatred for the Targaryeans has deep roots. In a conversation last episode we heard that Ned’s brother and father has been burned by Arys Targaryean, here we get another data point that describes Viserys’ and Daenerys’ grandfather. It’s all starting to add up to indicate the depth of Robert’s hatred for the Targaryeans, and, in its own oblique way, this scene does much to inform our understanding of Viserys and Daenerys as well.
Until Whenever
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Truly, a Time of Wonder
A few nights ago, when I really should have been heading to bed, I sat on my couch and browsed through a list of every Saturday Night Live episode from the 1970s. Making mental notes to catch the Paul Simon eps, the Elvis Costello ep, and several others, I stopped in shocked delight to see that there was a Bob Dylan ep! Within a minute I was watching the 70s "I found Jesus" Bob, sing "Save Someone," a damn fine song from that Christian period.
Yesterday, I continued my re-watch of The Office with the season 3 episode where Andy gets Dwight fired. I had forgotten what a changed Andy has had over the seasons, just as much as Michael really. H really was kind of an obnoxious jerk. I've also, through this re-watch, managed to get a better feel for Michael's arc from oblivious jerk to well-meaning stunted child. Alan Sepinwall has a wonderful re-cap of the key inflection points in that changeover here, but there were a few other moments that (so far) have caught my eye. There's a Season 3 Christmas episode ("Benihana Christmas) where a dumped Michael manages to convince a waitress to come back with him to the office party. When the waitress leaves, a dejected Michael pretends as if he's lost yet another love of his life. And as he mopes and cries, there's a great scene where Jim gently brings him around to seeing that this was a woman he had met just hours before and that he was really being silly. Laughing, he admits to Jim that he had to mark the waitress wit ha marker to distinguish her form her Asian friend. It's a great moment, and one where you see Michael gain a degree of self-awareness he had perhaps not had before. Season 3 had some nice moments of dawning self-awareness like that. Toby explaining to Michael that the office was teasing him in the Prison Mike ep, that they really didn't wish they were in jail, is another example.
On the train ride home today I continued watching the "Dwight at Staples" ep on my iPhone, which I had started watching the night before on my laptop. And which I will likely finish on my TV (through the Blu-Ray player, Netflix-enabled) tonight. Each time, the ep will start where I left off.
Other options available (just in my queue) include 30 or so episodes of Penn and Teller's Bullshit, every episode of Lost, every episode of The Twilight Zone, a 100 or so episodes of Roseanne, and every (I think) episode of Cheers.
All of this--plus access to thousands and thousands of DVDs and Blu-Rays (out right now? a The Closer, season 3 disc, The King's Men, and Rabbit Hole). For a little over $20 a month.
So - what's the point of all this?
When is Netflix going to collapse? This can't be a sustainable business model.
And when are shows going to pull out? After all, those SNL sets had been mildy attractive at one point. Now? Not only don't I have to buy them, but accessing episodes is easier than it would be if I had 20 DVDs to juggle.
Again. This can't last.
Can it?
Until Whenever
A few nights ago, when I really should have been heading to bed, I sat on my couch and browsed through a list of every Saturday Night Live episode from the 1970s. Making mental notes to catch the Paul Simon eps, the Elvis Costello ep, and several others, I stopped in shocked delight to see that there was a Bob Dylan ep! Within a minute I was watching the 70s "I found Jesus" Bob, sing "Save Someone," a damn fine song from that Christian period.
Yesterday, I continued my re-watch of The Office with the season 3 episode where Andy gets Dwight fired. I had forgotten what a changed Andy has had over the seasons, just as much as Michael really. H really was kind of an obnoxious jerk. I've also, through this re-watch, managed to get a better feel for Michael's arc from oblivious jerk to well-meaning stunted child. Alan Sepinwall has a wonderful re-cap of the key inflection points in that changeover here, but there were a few other moments that (so far) have caught my eye. There's a Season 3 Christmas episode ("Benihana Christmas) where a dumped Michael manages to convince a waitress to come back with him to the office party. When the waitress leaves, a dejected Michael pretends as if he's lost yet another love of his life. And as he mopes and cries, there's a great scene where Jim gently brings him around to seeing that this was a woman he had met just hours before and that he was really being silly. Laughing, he admits to Jim that he had to mark the waitress wit ha marker to distinguish her form her Asian friend. It's a great moment, and one where you see Michael gain a degree of self-awareness he had perhaps not had before. Season 3 had some nice moments of dawning self-awareness like that. Toby explaining to Michael that the office was teasing him in the Prison Mike ep, that they really didn't wish they were in jail, is another example.
On the train ride home today I continued watching the "Dwight at Staples" ep on my iPhone, which I had started watching the night before on my laptop. And which I will likely finish on my TV (through the Blu-Ray player, Netflix-enabled) tonight. Each time, the ep will start where I left off.
Other options available (just in my queue) include 30 or so episodes of Penn and Teller's Bullshit, every episode of Lost, every episode of The Twilight Zone, a 100 or so episodes of Roseanne, and every (I think) episode of Cheers.
All of this--plus access to thousands and thousands of DVDs and Blu-Rays (out right now? a The Closer, season 3 disc, The King's Men, and Rabbit Hole). For a little over $20 a month.
So - what's the point of all this?
When is Netflix going to collapse? This can't be a sustainable business model.
And when are shows going to pull out? After all, those SNL sets had been mildy attractive at one point. Now? Not only don't I have to buy them, but accessing episodes is easier than it would be if I had 20 DVDs to juggle.
Again. This can't last.
Can it?
Until Whenever
Monday, April 25, 2011
Game of Thrones – Episode 2, “The Kingsroad”
Casting can make or break you. I mentioned this last week, but the sheer casting of Joffrey does a lot of work all in and of itself. Jack Gleeson, the young man who plays him, may well be an absolute sweetheart of a human being, but he looks like an unbelievably smarmy prick. So before we had heard a single word from the young prince we distrusted him and had some faint dislike for him. Now, hopefully this doesn’t happen to young Master Gleeson in real life (although, to abandon political correctness for just a moment, I must suspect that it does—try as we like to avoid it, we as humans do a lot of snap judging, and I would wager that Gleeson gets judged on that face quite a bit), but on film, his casting works as a sort of wonderful shorthand.
Here in Episode 2, however, we do get to hear him speak, and judge him as a character, not just a face, and the effect is pitch-perfect. For the character of Joffrey is a spoiled, entitled, arrogant young man. We get a sense of this in his insolent mocking of his uncle at the start of the episode. But we also get a sense of the terrified, helpless coward that lurks beneath the surface of this preening kid when he is challenged and attacked by his uncle and has no recourse but to threaten to tell his Mommy.
It is this threat of telling Mommy that ends up anchoring the scene, or sequence, I want to focus on this week, that of the execution of a pet. First off, let’s acknowledge the faint absurdity that this is what seems to be getting the most play as demonstrating that perhaps HBO has gone too far with this program. Rape, incest, the attempted murder of a child—all are deemed worthwhile subjects for fictional treatment. But the (merciful!) execution of a wolf (that we see as a domesticated pet dog like our very own Fidos and Spots)? Unforgivable.
But before the dog is killed we must back up to Joffrey and the smitten Sansa taking a walk in the woods during a stopover as they journey to King’s Landing. They hear the sound of wood clacking on wood and investigate, only to find Arya play-fencing (with wooden sticks—not, it is important to note, with the very real sword given her by her half-brother as a going-away present) with a somewhat larger boy, who turns out to be the “butcher’s boy,” Micah.
This is a fascinating scene, in that we see the larger world of men and power played out by children who, for the most part, are aping the parts they have seen their elders model. So Joffrey revels in and is quick to demonstrate his power over this lower-class laborer’s son, behaviors we can intuit he learned from his mother and uncle, and certainly to a degree from his father. Micah, no fool, shows quick and eager deference, agreeing to whatever Joffrey says and apologizing for whatever he is thought to have done. And Sansa takes the passive seat she has no doubt seen countless court ladies take when disputes present themselves.
But Arya, the rebellious tomboy who we have already seen chafe at the role she is supposed to play, cannot stomach seeing her playmate hurt. It’s important to remember that Joffrey promises not to hurt him, "much," and while that is most certainly the cruel taunt of a cruel child it is also in its sick way honest—we have no reason to believe that Micah’s life is actually in danger. A situation Arya changes when, unable to stomach the cowardly act of Joffrey slowly slicing the boy’s face, she attacks the prince she knows she cannot. It’s a thrilling moment in the traditional sense of “yay, the bully is getting beat,” but a sickening one in retrospect when you realize that her action results in no real triumph beyond the satisfaction of seeing Joffrey shamed and beat. For the consequences are quick and hard—not only is the boy Micah hunted down and slaughtered by Joffrey’s brutal protector The Hound, but when Arya’s direwolf (who had attacked the prince to save his master, just as Bran’s wolf does for him) cannot be found, a cruel and clearly embarrassed Cersei demands that Sansa’s hound pay the price in his stead.
A quick, further word on casting. Maisie Williams gets more to do here as Arya, and she proves herself a wonderful young actress. Witness the way she tosses Joffrey’s sword into the water, and the way that we can see in the action how heavy this sword is for such a small girl, and how she must use her entire body to hurl it into the river. It’s a small detail, but a wonderful one.
Arya’ sister hates her, her wolf is gone, her sister’s murdered, her friend murdered, and Joffrey only wounded, in both spirit and flesh. And what I find fascinating is how Arya did the right thing. And got nothing for it. In the pilot last week, we heard Ned tell Bran that “he who passes the sentence must yield the sword.” It’s a noble, right sentiment, and I think one of Martin’s primary themes throughout the series. The notion--that when men, leaders especially, insert too many proxies between the decisions they make and the impact they have on the real world, disastrous results ensue--is one we will see in multiple guises. Here, we see it with Cersei and Robert. Robert refuses to take responsibility for a decision—first passing on any kind of judgment, and ready to accept a “kids will be kids” defense, and then, when Cersei presses the issue and demands that Lady be sacrificed, as he refuses to even pass the sentence himself, much less yield the blade.
It’s a chilling moment, as Ned calls after his friend, asking him if his is indeed his ruling, and getting a cold shoulder and silence in return.
And yet the actual execution is, again, not something Ned will allow another to carry out, even though this was not his sentence. So it is that he must destroy his daughter’s pet himself. Robert refuses to shunt off the distasteful duties of being a father and ruler to another. As a man of the North, he believes in owning his actions, and not passing them down the line. It’s a lesson that we learn almost at the very beginning of the series, and one we will see more of as the story progresses.
Until Whenever
Casting can make or break you. I mentioned this last week, but the sheer casting of Joffrey does a lot of work all in and of itself. Jack Gleeson, the young man who plays him, may well be an absolute sweetheart of a human being, but he looks like an unbelievably smarmy prick. So before we had heard a single word from the young prince we distrusted him and had some faint dislike for him. Now, hopefully this doesn’t happen to young Master Gleeson in real life (although, to abandon political correctness for just a moment, I must suspect that it does—try as we like to avoid it, we as humans do a lot of snap judging, and I would wager that Gleeson gets judged on that face quite a bit), but on film, his casting works as a sort of wonderful shorthand.
Here in Episode 2, however, we do get to hear him speak, and judge him as a character, not just a face, and the effect is pitch-perfect. For the character of Joffrey is a spoiled, entitled, arrogant young man. We get a sense of this in his insolent mocking of his uncle at the start of the episode. But we also get a sense of the terrified, helpless coward that lurks beneath the surface of this preening kid when he is challenged and attacked by his uncle and has no recourse but to threaten to tell his Mommy.
It is this threat of telling Mommy that ends up anchoring the scene, or sequence, I want to focus on this week, that of the execution of a pet. First off, let’s acknowledge the faint absurdity that this is what seems to be getting the most play as demonstrating that perhaps HBO has gone too far with this program. Rape, incest, the attempted murder of a child—all are deemed worthwhile subjects for fictional treatment. But the (merciful!) execution of a wolf (that we see as a domesticated pet dog like our very own Fidos and Spots)? Unforgivable.
But before the dog is killed we must back up to Joffrey and the smitten Sansa taking a walk in the woods during a stopover as they journey to King’s Landing. They hear the sound of wood clacking on wood and investigate, only to find Arya play-fencing (with wooden sticks—not, it is important to note, with the very real sword given her by her half-brother as a going-away present) with a somewhat larger boy, who turns out to be the “butcher’s boy,” Micah.
This is a fascinating scene, in that we see the larger world of men and power played out by children who, for the most part, are aping the parts they have seen their elders model. So Joffrey revels in and is quick to demonstrate his power over this lower-class laborer’s son, behaviors we can intuit he learned from his mother and uncle, and certainly to a degree from his father. Micah, no fool, shows quick and eager deference, agreeing to whatever Joffrey says and apologizing for whatever he is thought to have done. And Sansa takes the passive seat she has no doubt seen countless court ladies take when disputes present themselves.
But Arya, the rebellious tomboy who we have already seen chafe at the role she is supposed to play, cannot stomach seeing her playmate hurt. It’s important to remember that Joffrey promises not to hurt him, "much," and while that is most certainly the cruel taunt of a cruel child it is also in its sick way honest—we have no reason to believe that Micah’s life is actually in danger. A situation Arya changes when, unable to stomach the cowardly act of Joffrey slowly slicing the boy’s face, she attacks the prince she knows she cannot. It’s a thrilling moment in the traditional sense of “yay, the bully is getting beat,” but a sickening one in retrospect when you realize that her action results in no real triumph beyond the satisfaction of seeing Joffrey shamed and beat. For the consequences are quick and hard—not only is the boy Micah hunted down and slaughtered by Joffrey’s brutal protector The Hound, but when Arya’s direwolf (who had attacked the prince to save his master, just as Bran’s wolf does for him) cannot be found, a cruel and clearly embarrassed Cersei demands that Sansa’s hound pay the price in his stead.
A quick, further word on casting. Maisie Williams gets more to do here as Arya, and she proves herself a wonderful young actress. Witness the way she tosses Joffrey’s sword into the water, and the way that we can see in the action how heavy this sword is for such a small girl, and how she must use her entire body to hurl it into the river. It’s a small detail, but a wonderful one.
Arya’ sister hates her, her wolf is gone, her sister’s murdered, her friend murdered, and Joffrey only wounded, in both spirit and flesh. And what I find fascinating is how Arya did the right thing. And got nothing for it. In the pilot last week, we heard Ned tell Bran that “he who passes the sentence must yield the sword.” It’s a noble, right sentiment, and I think one of Martin’s primary themes throughout the series. The notion--that when men, leaders especially, insert too many proxies between the decisions they make and the impact they have on the real world, disastrous results ensue--is one we will see in multiple guises. Here, we see it with Cersei and Robert. Robert refuses to take responsibility for a decision—first passing on any kind of judgment, and ready to accept a “kids will be kids” defense, and then, when Cersei presses the issue and demands that Lady be sacrificed, as he refuses to even pass the sentence himself, much less yield the blade.
It’s a chilling moment, as Ned calls after his friend, asking him if his is indeed his ruling, and getting a cold shoulder and silence in return.
And yet the actual execution is, again, not something Ned will allow another to carry out, even though this was not his sentence. So it is that he must destroy his daughter’s pet himself. Robert refuses to shunt off the distasteful duties of being a father and ruler to another. As a man of the North, he believes in owning his actions, and not passing them down the line. It’s a lesson that we learn almost at the very beginning of the series, and one we will see more of as the story progresses.
Until Whenever
Monday, April 18, 2011
Game of Thrones – Episode 1
What this scene emphasizes for me is what I (after the admittedly piss-poor example of just one episode) am most concerned about in terms of the series. At the same time, it capably demonstrated some of the things that are most encouraging about this series so far. Let’s start with the worrisome bit.
George R.R. Martin is on record in numerous venues as saying that when he set out to write the epic fantasy series this program is based on he was deliberately taking advantage of the “unlimited budget” of novels to craft a story of the scope and ambition he had learned from years in the business would never work on TV. So he created a vast, sweeping story that spanned continents, encompassed hundreds (thousands?) of characters, and featured massive action set pieces, in addition to the frank depictions of sex and violence that TV (at the time) would never touch.
The violence and sex problem was taken care of by the advent of R-rated (hard R-rated) television series being created and aired by pay TV networks like HBO and Showtime. And the scope problem was (partially) addressed by the expanded budget allowed by the new television business model—with shorter seasons, fewer series to budget for, and a pay model almost dependent on spending money and making sure it shows (thereby creating the feel that these were programs worth paying a premium subscription price for), the scale of Westeros was within reach. On top of this, the last decade has seen CGI advance to the point where a creation like The Wall is possible on a TV (albeit HBO-TV) budget.
But is everything Martin has imagined possible on an HBO budget? That’s a question that future episodes (and, especially, future seasons) will address. And yet we do get a hint of it here.
All that said, the wedding scene does do a very good job of shorthanding the brutality of this culture. Not only do we see a woman raped on what in our world would be the dance floor of her wedding, we see two warriors fight over her, to the (suitably) violent death. It’s easy to look at the actual killing and wonder if the tawdriness of a visible disembowelment, replete with intestines hanging to the ground, is really necessary. But, as conceived by Martin, it is, for we need the extreme of the violence to really convince us of the fierceness of this newly bought army. What we miss, again, is the scale, the sheer massive size of this army. And that’s a small, but important, detail.
Remaining random reactions
If you are a fan of the kind of episode-by-episode TV blogging that’s become extremely popular over the last few years, and if you are looking for reactions to the premiere of Game of Thrones, you have no shortage of places to satiate your needs. Alan Sepinwall’s site at Hitfix. James Poniewozic at Time. Mo Ryan, formerly of The Chicago Tribune, at Stay Tuned. Todd VanDerWerff at The AV Club. There are many more.
So I am going to try something a little different. I am going to write about Game of Thrones every week, and I certainly may discuss my general reactions and provide some general thoughts about the episodes. But the primary thrust of these write-ups will not be a comprehensive (or cursory) review, but a “close read” of a specific scene. Not quite a shot-by-shot analysis (something I frankly do not have the background or knowledge of filmmaking to even attempt), but a close look at a scene in the episode and what makes it work (or not).
The scene from the pilot I will be focusing on is the wedding scene in Pentos. The quick summary of the scene: The exiled princess Daenerys Targaryen has been basically sold off by her brother Viserys to Khal Drogo, a local warlord, in exchange for the support off Drogo’s army of Dothraki warriors. Viserys and Daenerys are the last surviving members of the Targaryen dynasty, and Viserys plans on returning to Westeros to retake the throne that was taken violently from his father 17 years before—hence the need for an army.
What this scene emphasizes for me is what I (after the admittedly piss-poor example of just one episode) am most concerned about in terms of the series. At the same time, it capably demonstrated some of the things that are most encouraging about this series so far. Let’s start with the worrisome bit.
George R.R. Martin is on record in numerous venues as saying that when he set out to write the epic fantasy series this program is based on he was deliberately taking advantage of the “unlimited budget” of novels to craft a story of the scope and ambition he had learned from years in the business would never work on TV. So he created a vast, sweeping story that spanned continents, encompassed hundreds (thousands?) of characters, and featured massive action set pieces, in addition to the frank depictions of sex and violence that TV (at the time) would never touch.
The violence and sex problem was taken care of by the advent of R-rated (hard R-rated) television series being created and aired by pay TV networks like HBO and Showtime. And the scope problem was (partially) addressed by the expanded budget allowed by the new television business model—with shorter seasons, fewer series to budget for, and a pay model almost dependent on spending money and making sure it shows (thereby creating the feel that these were programs worth paying a premium subscription price for), the scale of Westeros was within reach. On top of this, the last decade has seen CGI advance to the point where a creation like The Wall is possible on a TV (albeit HBO-TV) budget.
But is everything Martin has imagined possible on an HBO budget? That’s a question that future episodes (and, especially, future seasons) will address. And yet we do get a hint of it here.
The wedding scene, in the book, is a bit of a set piece. The wild madness of the scene, the “orgy-on-a-grand-scale-feel,” and the sheer scope are intended to be breathtaking. It is meant to be a massive celebration on the part of Drogo’s army of thousands, and hangers-on, marked by a terrifying (to Daenerys) amount of violence and sexual aggression. And yet, the scene in the pilot doesn’t have the scale it needed. Other similarly outsized elements in the pilot work beautifully—The Wall; the entire world of Westeros, as depicted both in the wonderful opening credits and in the landscapes and CGI cities and castles we see; the massive banquet Ned holds to welcome the King. But the wedding feels small—as if it is a celebration, not of thousands, but hundreds. And, yes, this does matter, because the scene is meant to not only demonstrate the horrible position Daenerys has been put in by her brother (a task it accomplished quite nicely), but also the formidable size and scale of the army Viserys has just bought for himself—which we don’t really feel or see, but instead are just told about, with the evidence somewhat contradicting that telling.
All that said, the wedding scene does do a very good job of shorthanding the brutality of this culture. Not only do we see a woman raped on what in our world would be the dance floor of her wedding, we see two warriors fight over her, to the (suitably) violent death. It’s easy to look at the actual killing and wonder if the tawdriness of a visible disembowelment, replete with intestines hanging to the ground, is really necessary. But, as conceived by Martin, it is, for we need the extreme of the violence to really convince us of the fierceness of this newly bought army. What we miss, again, is the scale, the sheer massive size of this army. And that’s a small, but important, detail.
Remaining random reactions
- My sense from other reviews is that the plot and characters are understandable by newcomers to this world, albeit only if closely watched and perhaps supplemented with some on-line research. As someone who has read the books, I’ll only say that there are details alluded to here (the fate of Viserys' father those 17 years ago, for example) that would be no clearer had you read the books up to this point. Because the books are written from a fairly limited POV of just a handful of characters, including children, a lot of backstory is only alluded to in bits and drabs, and never just provided whole.
- Apart from trifling minutia (why isn’t Illyrio fatter? Why isn’t Tyrion uglier?), the casting so far is showing no weak links. The biggest revelation so far is Maisie Williams as Arya Stark, who with precious little screen time and few lines manages to paint a fully realized, dynamic character. That look she gives Bran after hitting the bullseye with her arrow? Genius.
- I was actually a bit taken by the main theme during the opening credits, and am eager to give it a second listen. Nonetheless, that’s one area I expect the budget and timing to affect as well—an epic fantasy series like this deserves a great, epic score, but those are few and far between on TV.
- My only exposure to Mark Addy had been his amiable acting and wincingly bad American accent on the sitcom Still Standing. Wow.
- Jack Gleeson as Joffrey gets no lines in this episode, and yet conveys much about the character with just his overall effect.
- It will be interesting to see how they deal with the direwolves as they grow. That dead mama was large.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Jammin' and having fun
In all of my excitement over the impending arrival of Game of Thrones I had kind of forgotten that Treme was coming back soon. Silly me.
I found Treme to be very much a slow burn in its first season, but by the time the finale arrived I was completely and wholly invested. The show got a bit of a hard time for being somewhat plotless, and while I sympathize with the creators' claims that what people were seeing as "plotless" was really just an absence of violence/mystery-driven plot, I don't now that I entirely buy it either. That said, whatever plot was or wasn't there wasn't what hooked me. I found Treme to be almost like a sitcom, in that the real joy of the show came in just hanging out with characters you had genuine affection for. The only (well, not really only, but it sounds better that way) difference is that, in a sitcom, our hook into these characters is that they are funny; with Treme it was the music.
In anticipation of the return of the series, I recently got the first season soundtrack, and really can not recommend it enough. What makes it so enjoyable is not just all the great music, but also the sense of the characters the music gives you. This is lived-in, often off-the-cuff music, and feels spontaneous and organic, and not overly deliberate or plotted. And that really makes it a fun record.
If you didn't give the series a try last year, check out, at the very, very least, the opening credits, which do a superb job of capturing the mood of the show:
And to get a sense of that "off-the-cuff" feel I mentioned, give a listen to this protest song led by one of the show's main characters:
OK. One more. Two unconnected main characters in this mosaic of a cast meet by chance:
Until Whenever
In all of my excitement over the impending arrival of Game of Thrones I had kind of forgotten that Treme was coming back soon. Silly me.
I found Treme to be very much a slow burn in its first season, but by the time the finale arrived I was completely and wholly invested. The show got a bit of a hard time for being somewhat plotless, and while I sympathize with the creators' claims that what people were seeing as "plotless" was really just an absence of violence/mystery-driven plot, I don't now that I entirely buy it either. That said, whatever plot was or wasn't there wasn't what hooked me. I found Treme to be almost like a sitcom, in that the real joy of the show came in just hanging out with characters you had genuine affection for. The only (well, not really only, but it sounds better that way) difference is that, in a sitcom, our hook into these characters is that they are funny; with Treme it was the music.
In anticipation of the return of the series, I recently got the first season soundtrack, and really can not recommend it enough. What makes it so enjoyable is not just all the great music, but also the sense of the characters the music gives you. This is lived-in, often off-the-cuff music, and feels spontaneous and organic, and not overly deliberate or plotted. And that really makes it a fun record.
If you didn't give the series a try last year, check out, at the very, very least, the opening credits, which do a superb job of capturing the mood of the show:
And to get a sense of that "off-the-cuff" feel I mentioned, give a listen to this protest song led by one of the show's main characters:
OK. One more. Two unconnected main characters in this mosaic of a cast meet by chance:
Until Whenever
Monday, April 04, 2011
Winter, It Came
Spoiler-free—for readers of the books and non-readers alike
So, as I mentioned in my “why I am returning to blogging” post last week, one reason is to have a space to try out the kind of episode-by-episode television review blogging I never really did during Tosy and Cosh’s first incarnation. And with the imminent arrival of HBO’s new fantasy series A Game of Thrones, the time seemed right.
When I was in high school I read a bit of epic fantasy. A bit—not a lot. I read pretty much all of Terry Brooks, but never got into his obvious antecedent (and to one degree or another, all of epic fantasy’s antecedent), The Lord of the Rings. Then in college, I bounced off of Robert Jordan’s epic Wheel of Time series (after being taken by a roommate’s passion for the books), not once, but twice. Yes, I read a good 90% of the first book’s 800 or so pages twice before admitting that this just wasn’t my cuppa.
This was where I stood when, about two years ago, news of a forthcoming HBO series spurred me to give my first epic fantasy in years a try. Two years later, I have read the first three books in the series twice, and the fourth once. It has been years since I’ve re-read fiction like that—probably not since I got hooked on Stephen King as a teen.
So, yes, it is with some excitement that I came to last night’s preview of the first 15 minutes of the pilot. And afterwards? I remain very convinced that this is a series that will get most things right. It’s not just the overall fidelity to the plot that was hinted at in these first few minutes. It’s the fidelity to the world. The massive scale of The Wall. The look of the characters’ clothes in the North, all furs and leather and bundling. The scale of Ned Stark’s sword, a massive slab of iron near as tall as the man itself. The look of the landscape, green, but barely so, with the hint of winter in the air palpable.
Yes, there are, as there always are with book-to-screen translations, liberties being taken. No, the children are not quite as young as they are in Martin’s books. And no, we will not be privy to all of the details Martin has crammed into these novels. But how could we be?
As long as the tone, overall plot components and structure, and, most of all, sense of character are maintained I will be happy. And on that last point, all signs are very encouraging. Nearly all the main character we met last night radiated a sense of who we know them to be from the book. Bran’s fear at not measuring up; Arya’s impatience and impertinence; Stark’s quiet, troubled dignity; John Snow’s uneasy connection to his stepmother and easy bonds with his siblings. After all, it is these characters that made the books come alive—and it looks as if they will do the same for the series.
For readers of the books only
Spoiler-free—for readers of the books and non-readers alike
So, as I mentioned in my “why I am returning to blogging” post last week, one reason is to have a space to try out the kind of episode-by-episode television review blogging I never really did during Tosy and Cosh’s first incarnation. And with the imminent arrival of HBO’s new fantasy series A Game of Thrones, the time seemed right.
When I was in high school I read a bit of epic fantasy. A bit—not a lot. I read pretty much all of Terry Brooks, but never got into his obvious antecedent (and to one degree or another, all of epic fantasy’s antecedent), The Lord of the Rings. Then in college, I bounced off of Robert Jordan’s epic Wheel of Time series (after being taken by a roommate’s passion for the books), not once, but twice. Yes, I read a good 90% of the first book’s 800 or so pages twice before admitting that this just wasn’t my cuppa.
This was where I stood when, about two years ago, news of a forthcoming HBO series spurred me to give my first epic fantasy in years a try. Two years later, I have read the first three books in the series twice, and the fourth once. It has been years since I’ve re-read fiction like that—probably not since I got hooked on Stephen King as a teen.
So, yes, it is with some excitement that I came to last night’s preview of the first 15 minutes of the pilot. And afterwards? I remain very convinced that this is a series that will get most things right. It’s not just the overall fidelity to the plot that was hinted at in these first few minutes. It’s the fidelity to the world. The massive scale of The Wall. The look of the characters’ clothes in the North, all furs and leather and bundling. The scale of Ned Stark’s sword, a massive slab of iron near as tall as the man itself. The look of the landscape, green, but barely so, with the hint of winter in the air palpable.
Yes, there are, as there always are with book-to-screen translations, liberties being taken. No, the children are not quite as young as they are in Martin’s books. And no, we will not be privy to all of the details Martin has crammed into these novels. But how could we be?
As long as the tone, overall plot components and structure, and, most of all, sense of character are maintained I will be happy. And on that last point, all signs are very encouraging. Nearly all the main character we met last night radiated a sense of who we know them to be from the book. Bran’s fear at not measuring up; Arya’s impatience and impertinence; Stark’s quiet, troubled dignity; John Snow’s uneasy connection to his stepmother and easy bonds with his siblings. After all, it is these characters that made the books come alive—and it looks as if they will do the same for the series.
For readers of the books only
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The Ineffable Effect of Art Direction
As I mentioned on Twitter, I've been re-watching the first season of Dollhouse, primarily because it's a) on Netflix streaming and b) it's a show I liked but never finished watching when it aired. I saw almost all of Season One, but missed the end of Season Two, and I was intrigued enough to want to give the whole thing a go.
Last night I watched Episode 5, which featured a particularly credibility-straining plot involving Echo going undercover in a cult to act as an unwitting mole for the FBI. (For those of you who don't remember or never saw Dollhouse, the short version of the premise is that a secret organization houses mindwiped young attractive people who it "imprints" with specific personalities and skills for paid missions (which more often than not seemed to involve sex--it occurred to me last night that the entire series could easily have been spawned by a bet Whedon made with someone that he could get a network to greenlight a series with a prostitute as its main character), rewiping them anew after each mission and keeping them at the ready as blank, child-like slates).
The cult Echo infiltrates is situated on a dusty compound in the middle of nowhere, with all of the cult members dressed in Amish-like garb. As soon as we saw the compound, I was reminded heavily of Big Love's Juniper Creek compound--same dusty, frontier-like milieu, same plain, prarie-esque clothing.
But on Dollhouse, the set and costumes looked like . . . sets and costumes.
Where on Big Love Juniper Creek looked like a real community, populated by real religious fundamentalists. Not actors playing dress up.
And of course, I wondered why. And I couldn't really tell. What's interesting to me is not that the money spent on production (which I am assuming to be the differentiator here, Dollhouse being a network show given a short leash and Big Love an HBO show, where production value is king) makes such a difference, but that it makes such a difference in so subtle a way.
If forced, I couldn't point to a prop, or a hat, or a blouse, and describe what made it authentic-seeming, or not. But the overall effect was very clear.
Until Whenever
As I mentioned on Twitter, I've been re-watching the first season of Dollhouse, primarily because it's a) on Netflix streaming and b) it's a show I liked but never finished watching when it aired. I saw almost all of Season One, but missed the end of Season Two, and I was intrigued enough to want to give the whole thing a go.
Last night I watched Episode 5, which featured a particularly credibility-straining plot involving Echo going undercover in a cult to act as an unwitting mole for the FBI. (For those of you who don't remember or never saw Dollhouse, the short version of the premise is that a secret organization houses mindwiped young attractive people who it "imprints" with specific personalities and skills for paid missions (which more often than not seemed to involve sex--it occurred to me last night that the entire series could easily have been spawned by a bet Whedon made with someone that he could get a network to greenlight a series with a prostitute as its main character), rewiping them anew after each mission and keeping them at the ready as blank, child-like slates).
The cult Echo infiltrates is situated on a dusty compound in the middle of nowhere, with all of the cult members dressed in Amish-like garb. As soon as we saw the compound, I was reminded heavily of Big Love's Juniper Creek compound--same dusty, frontier-like milieu, same plain, prarie-esque clothing.
But on Dollhouse, the set and costumes looked like . . . sets and costumes.
Where on Big Love Juniper Creek looked like a real community, populated by real religious fundamentalists. Not actors playing dress up.
And of course, I wondered why. And I couldn't really tell. What's interesting to me is not that the money spent on production (which I am assuming to be the differentiator here, Dollhouse being a network show given a short leash and Big Love an HBO show, where production value is king) makes such a difference, but that it makes such a difference in so subtle a way.
If forced, I couldn't point to a prop, or a hat, or a blouse, and describe what made it authentic-seeming, or not. But the overall effect was very clear.
Until Whenever
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
"I am Lazarus, risen from the grave!"
So it looks like I'm going to give this thing another whirl. After a few years of more-or-less regular posting I abandoned the blog almost two years ago. A hell of a long time for a battery re-charge, eh?
So what's compelled me to pick up quill and ink again? A few things. The advent of Twitter and Facebook has linked me in new and interesting ways to an online community that, amazingly enough, simply didn't exist in this form two years ago. And I kind of like the idea of seeing how blogging works in this new context. Backwards, I know--many are abandoning blogging, given the ability to share opinions and links on Facebook and Twitter, and here I am picking it up again. Well, so be it.
Another contributing factor is the nagging TV series blogging itch I've always wanted to scratch. During Round One of the blog I did plenty of TV blogging, including posts about specific episodes, but never the kind of episode-by-episode blogging of an entire season I am so much a fan of in my own online reading. And with the imminent arrival of HBO's Game of Thrones series, the time seemed ripe. I am a big fan of the books, which I had just started reading when I abandoned the blog two years ago, and have been very eagerly following the development of the series over the last year. So it just seemed a natural fit to try my hand at the form with this series. We'll see how I do.
More factors? Sure. Over the past six months I have been blogging for work some, on the topic of innovation on my company's internal blogging system. And that blogging has most definitely awakened the urge.
Finally? I miss sharing thoughts, opinions, and arguments about the many forms of pop culture I imbibe in, and I miss having my tiny little platform on the web to do it on. I miss Tosy and Cosh.
So. Here I am. What's new with you?
Until Whenever
So it looks like I'm going to give this thing another whirl. After a few years of more-or-less regular posting I abandoned the blog almost two years ago. A hell of a long time for a battery re-charge, eh?
So what's compelled me to pick up quill and ink again? A few things. The advent of Twitter and Facebook has linked me in new and interesting ways to an online community that, amazingly enough, simply didn't exist in this form two years ago. And I kind of like the idea of seeing how blogging works in this new context. Backwards, I know--many are abandoning blogging, given the ability to share opinions and links on Facebook and Twitter, and here I am picking it up again. Well, so be it.
Another contributing factor is the nagging TV series blogging itch I've always wanted to scratch. During Round One of the blog I did plenty of TV blogging, including posts about specific episodes, but never the kind of episode-by-episode blogging of an entire season I am so much a fan of in my own online reading. And with the imminent arrival of HBO's Game of Thrones series, the time seemed ripe. I am a big fan of the books, which I had just started reading when I abandoned the blog two years ago, and have been very eagerly following the development of the series over the last year. So it just seemed a natural fit to try my hand at the form with this series. We'll see how I do.
More factors? Sure. Over the past six months I have been blogging for work some, on the topic of innovation on my company's internal blogging system. And that blogging has most definitely awakened the urge.
Finally? I miss sharing thoughts, opinions, and arguments about the many forms of pop culture I imbibe in, and I miss having my tiny little platform on the web to do it on. I miss Tosy and Cosh.
So. Here I am. What's new with you?
Until Whenever
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Discovering Songs
After watching the Scrubs finale I simply had to go get the song used in the fantasy future montage at the end - Peter Gabriel doing a cover of The Magnetic Fields' "The Book of Love."
I did not know this song, either the original or this cover, before, but was instantly smitten, which almost never happens for me with songs on a first hearing. What I find very surprising is that iTunes didn't have it for sale on its own, but only as part of the soundtrack to the Shall We Dance Richard Gere flop. Why oh why do they do this? Isn't the ability to buy jiust the song you want kind of the point of iTunes?
Thankfully, I was able to get the audio off of the YouTube video and rip an mp3 that way. And now Peter Gabriel doesn't get amy of my money. Smart, iTunes.
Until Whenever
After watching the Scrubs finale I simply had to go get the song used in the fantasy future montage at the end - Peter Gabriel doing a cover of The Magnetic Fields' "The Book of Love."
I did not know this song, either the original or this cover, before, but was instantly smitten, which almost never happens for me with songs on a first hearing. What I find very surprising is that iTunes didn't have it for sale on its own, but only as part of the soundtrack to the Shall We Dance Richard Gere flop. Why oh why do they do this? Isn't the ability to buy jiust the song you want kind of the point of iTunes?
Thankfully, I was able to get the audio off of the YouTube video and rip an mp3 that way. And now Peter Gabriel doesn't get amy of my money. Smart, iTunes.
Until Whenever
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Random TV Notes
(That Also Contain Random Spoilers)
(That Also Contain Random Spoilers)
- The House finale was fun, but I really hope they don't abandon the "House in a loonie bin" angle too quickly. There's lots of potential there, but I fear that, come Fall, the show will revert to the status quo too quickly to make use of it.
- I appreciate that, on The Big Bang Theory they are trying to take a very slight hand to the by-now obligatory sitcom cliche of the unrequited love angle, but the CBS marketing monkeys really should get on the same page. They promo'ed the finale as a big Leonard/Penny moment when the reality was much more subtle than that.
- It's been intimated elsewhere that we won't meet How I Met Your Mother's titular mother until the series finale. I know many are fine with this, but I really like this part of the show, and think they need to move faster on it. I'd really love to see a few seasons of the mother integrating with the group. Unless they go with a Will & Grace model, with Ted unable to find true love until he lets go of his college friends. That doesn't feel right here though. The central relationship on W&G was always portrayed as (partially, at least) unhealthy. You never get that feel on HIMYM.
- When Family Guy did a Stephen King night, didn't it feel way too soon to have a Shawshank homage? And then I remembered that that film came out 15 years ago. Yikes.
- The Office has been so good, so assured, that I might actually be looking more forward to its finale than Lost's.
- When watching American Idol last week, one of my five-year olds, shortly after Gokey started "Dream On," said "they're (the judges) not gonna like this."
- Lost has been doing a LOT of set up the past few episodes, so much that I'm actually kind of nervous about their ability to pull off a finale that justifies all of it. Still, fingers crossed.
Until Whenever
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
He’s No Superman
In honor of Scrubs’ series (season?) finale tonight, here are my ten favorite uses of music on the show, in no particular order:
J.D.’s first emotional connection to a dying patient is scored to – NOT Jeff Buckley’s "Hallelujah,” but John Cale’s!
Turk and Carla, and J.D. and a brief girlfriend whose name I don’t remember, settle down to watch Sanford and Son, with Turk singing improvised lyrics.
Turk races to find a pregnant teen in the park during a Christmas episode over Nina Simone's "Sinnerman"
Ted's a capella band performs a killer version of the Underdog theme song.
Colin Hay does an acoustic "Overkill"
Ted's band does "Over the Rainbow"
Cox loses it after losing one too many patients
Everything Comes Down to Poo
Guy Love
Ted's girlfriend's song
Ted does Hey Ya at the janitor's wedding
I hope they bring Scrubs back just for Ted.
Until Whenever
In honor of Scrubs’ series (season?) finale tonight, here are my ten favorite uses of music on the show, in no particular order:
J.D.’s first emotional connection to a dying patient is scored to – NOT Jeff Buckley’s "Hallelujah,” but John Cale’s!
Turk and Carla, and J.D. and a brief girlfriend whose name I don’t remember, settle down to watch Sanford and Son, with Turk singing improvised lyrics.
Turk races to find a pregnant teen in the park during a Christmas episode over Nina Simone's "Sinnerman"
Ted's a capella band performs a killer version of the Underdog theme song.
Colin Hay does an acoustic "Overkill"
Ted's band does "Over the Rainbow"
Cox loses it after losing one too many patients
Everything Comes Down to Poo
Guy Love
Ted's girlfriend's song
Ted does Hey Ya at the janitor's wedding
I hope they bring Scrubs back just for Ted.
Until Whenever
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Old News
A few weeks back, when Danny Gokey did "Stand By Me" on American Idol, I was surprised by how few people called him out on such a soulless rendition, one that did absolutely nothing to honor the song. In fact, his lifeless version called for a tonic.
And here it is.
I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you've already seen this, but it's eminently worth posting nonetheless. Such a simple, beautiful idea, and just seamlessly executed.
Until Whenever
A few weeks back, when Danny Gokey did "Stand By Me" on American Idol, I was surprised by how few people called him out on such a soulless rendition, one that did absolutely nothing to honor the song. In fact, his lifeless version called for a tonic.
And here it is.
I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you've already seen this, but it's eminently worth posting nonetheless. Such a simple, beautiful idea, and just seamlessly executed.
Until Whenever
Friday, April 10, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
My New Favorite Line About Television
"Part of the joy of watching a theatrical repertory company is seeing the actors play a variety of parts. Television especially is our national repertory theater and seeing a variety of performances from a single actor is part of the pleasure it gives us."
That's from the #21st installment of Tom Stempel's "Understanding Screenwriting" series over at The House Next Door. That you should be reading both the blog and this series there goes without saying. But I just loved this particular quote, and how it encapsulated the joy i get when I see an actor from one shoe pop up on another show.
Until Whenever
"Part of the joy of watching a theatrical repertory company is seeing the actors play a variety of parts. Television especially is our national repertory theater and seeing a variety of performances from a single actor is part of the pleasure it gives us."
That's from the #21st installment of Tom Stempel's "Understanding Screenwriting" series over at The House Next Door. That you should be reading both the blog and this series there goes without saying. But I just loved this particular quote, and how it encapsulated the joy i get when I see an actor from one shoe pop up on another show.
Until Whenever
Monday, March 16, 2009
Reason George Lucas Is Still Pretty Cool # 68
I've been watching the new animated Clone Wars series and have been pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoy it. Part of this is just the sheer fun of seeing those many glorious Clone War battles that Obi-Wan hinted at 32 years ago. But an even bigger part is the sheer quality of the action. See, as a big Marvel fan I was very excited when the company first started rolling out animated movies on DVD a few years back. I mean, an animated Ultimates film sounded just brilliant. But the animation itself, when unveiled, was clumsy and non-compelling, and not much better than the animation in those old 90s Marvel X-Men and Spider-Man series. Limited and not good to look at.
Maybe I've just been spoiled by Disney and Pixar. They don't (aside from the brilliant Incredibles) really do action/super-hero movies, but the action scenes they do do are always wonderfully kinetic and realized. Think of the final scene in the original Toy Story. Or the door-chase in Monster's Inc. Or even the fights in Pocohontas. That level of sophistication delivered to a Captain America film would be just a great thing. But that's not what we got.
But it is what Lucas is delivering on Clone Wars. The first episode I saw was the Yoda ep, and the quality of the action scenes was just great. And with each episode I've seen that level is being upheld. It's fun, engaging, and thrilling Star Wars action. And for that, I thank Lucas.
Until Whenever
I've been watching the new animated Clone Wars series and have been pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoy it. Part of this is just the sheer fun of seeing those many glorious Clone War battles that Obi-Wan hinted at 32 years ago. But an even bigger part is the sheer quality of the action. See, as a big Marvel fan I was very excited when the company first started rolling out animated movies on DVD a few years back. I mean, an animated Ultimates film sounded just brilliant. But the animation itself, when unveiled, was clumsy and non-compelling, and not much better than the animation in those old 90s Marvel X-Men and Spider-Man series. Limited and not good to look at.
Maybe I've just been spoiled by Disney and Pixar. They don't (aside from the brilliant Incredibles) really do action/super-hero movies, but the action scenes they do do are always wonderfully kinetic and realized. Think of the final scene in the original Toy Story. Or the door-chase in Monster's Inc. Or even the fights in Pocohontas. That level of sophistication delivered to a Captain America film would be just a great thing. But that's not what we got.
But it is what Lucas is delivering on Clone Wars. The first episode I saw was the Yoda ep, and the quality of the action scenes was just great. And with each episode I've seen that level is being upheld. It's fun, engaging, and thrilling Star Wars action. And for that, I thank Lucas.
Until Whenever
Monday, February 09, 2009
Ten TV Things That Made Me Grin Recently
SPOILERS FOR STUFF
1. Smash calls Mama Smash "Mommy" when he gets into college on Friday Night Lights
2. Smash thanks Coach Taylor for all he's done on Friday Night Lights
3. Reading that FX might do a TV show based on Brian Michael Bendis' Powers comic
4. The 13th time Adama reacted to a shock or threat with stone-faced hard-assery on Battlestar Galactica.
5. Seeing young Rousseou (sp?) on Lost
6. Seeing Jin on Lost
7. Bill Hendrickson has a moral epiphany and realizes that the prophet must be put down on Big Love
8. U2 does "Get On your Boots" for the first time live on the Grammys
9. Radiohead does a remarkable version of "15 steps" with full marching band (minus the actual marching) the Grammys
10. Matt and his mother kind-of-sort-of bond on Friday Night Lights
Until Whenever
SPOILERS FOR STUFF
1. Smash calls Mama Smash "Mommy" when he gets into college on Friday Night Lights
2. Smash thanks Coach Taylor for all he's done on Friday Night Lights
3. Reading that FX might do a TV show based on Brian Michael Bendis' Powers comic
4. The 13th time Adama reacted to a shock or threat with stone-faced hard-assery on Battlestar Galactica.
5. Seeing young Rousseou (sp?) on Lost
6. Seeing Jin on Lost
7. Bill Hendrickson has a moral epiphany and realizes that the prophet must be put down on Big Love
8. U2 does "Get On your Boots" for the first time live on the Grammys
9. Radiohead does a remarkable version of "15 steps" with full marching band (minus the actual marching) the Grammys
10. Matt and his mother kind-of-sort-of bond on Friday Night Lights
Until Whenever
Friday, February 06, 2009
Spoiled
As I posted about a few weeks back, we've entered the world of hi-def. 40inch Samsung, 720p, Hi-Def cable. and it's great. But, man, do you get spoiled quickly.
A few weeks back I started watching I Am Legend (which was, for the first 45 minutes I got through, anyway, much better than I expected.) on HBO OnDemand. Last night, I went back to the OnDemand site to call the movie back up. And it was only then that I realized that there is no HD on HBO OnDemand. It's all SD. And, to tell the truth, I was almost amused at how little I wanted to see it. Now, I know that SD actually looks worse on an HD screen than it does on a tube set. The HD reveals the poor image quality more than the tube did. But still, it was comical how greedy I'd ('ve) gotten about HD. I watch almost no SD anymore, after 34 some-odd years of watching nothing but. Which also means I'll have to DVR Big Love and other HBO Shows - I used to count on the OnDemand site to get me stuff I missed.
It's a hard-knock life, no doubt.
Until Whenever
As I posted about a few weeks back, we've entered the world of hi-def. 40inch Samsung, 720p, Hi-Def cable. and it's great. But, man, do you get spoiled quickly.
A few weeks back I started watching I Am Legend (which was, for the first 45 minutes I got through, anyway, much better than I expected.) on HBO OnDemand. Last night, I went back to the OnDemand site to call the movie back up. And it was only then that I realized that there is no HD on HBO OnDemand. It's all SD. And, to tell the truth, I was almost amused at how little I wanted to see it. Now, I know that SD actually looks worse on an HD screen than it does on a tube set. The HD reveals the poor image quality more than the tube did. But still, it was comical how greedy I'd ('ve) gotten about HD. I watch almost no SD anymore, after 34 some-odd years of watching nothing but. Which also means I'll have to DVR Big Love and other HBO Shows - I used to count on the OnDemand site to get me stuff I missed.
It's a hard-knock life, no doubt.
Until Whenever
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