SciFi ran a Dr. Who marathon today. The episodes were from the "second" series, the David Tennant episodes.
I go back a long way with Dr. Who. I went to college in Oklahoma in the late '70s. I came from a small town in Missouri. I had very, very little money, so most Saturday nights found me either studying, taking advantage of the school's free film series (I learned a lot about movies that way), or watching TV. Oklahoma Public Television (OPTV) had picked up a bunch of British TV shows on the cheap, so the typical Saturday night lineup was Monty Python's Flying Circus, Fawlty Towers, and Dr. Who.
I'd never seen anything like it; the PBS station in my neck of the woods had only been on for two years and its signal barely reached my town. The schedule was heavy on educational and high-art programming. OPTV was low-brow by comparison. They were trying to put on a cheap, entertaining lineup. Instead of Love Boat and Fantasy Island, I got turned on to Dr. Who. That was the Tom Baker era. He knocked me out. So did Basil Fawlty, but that's another story.
Like all male Who fans of a certain age, I was madly in love with Sarah Jane Smith. The cheap, cheesy effects were a revelation; the emphasis on story and character instead of surface was a wake-up call to parts of my brain previously untroubled. It was delirious fun.
When Russell T. Davies resurrected DW, I was leery. Thirty years on, how could you do it? Sure, Battlestar Galactica had updated a '70s TV show to great effect, but could it happen again?
The new Doctor was brilliant from the first episode. Fans of a certain age (including myself) are now in love with Rose Tyler (Billie Piper). Christopher Eccleston was fantastic as the doctor. Even as CGI made better effects possible, the show nodded toward its cheesy, low-budget past (the "living plastic" arm in "Rose"). The first season was a joy and a pleasure.
Eccleston left after 13 episodes. He was replaced by David Tennant (Viva Blackpool). I had grown enamored of Eccleston's Doctor and even though Tennant was a capable actor, I wondered if he could do a good job as the Doctor.
Was I stupid. Davies upped the ante in the second season, exploring what it would mean to be an ageless wanderer. As the Doctor said to Rose, "You can live your entire life with me, but I can't live my whole life with you." The melancholy and pain at the heart of the Doctor's existence were probed and exposed, and Tennant handled every revelation with deft prowess. Take the return of Elisabeth Sladen as Sarah Jane Smith in the poignant "School Reunion." Sarah Jane has aged while the Doctor has not. She confronts him about leaving her; her heartbreaking question is "What do I do with the rest of my life now that I've seen the stars?" I defy anyone with a heart to remain unmoved when she demands that the Doctor say goodbye properly. Tennant, his eyes shining and his heart bursting, says, "Good-bye" then blurts out "My Sarah Jane!" I simply cannot imagine Eccleston delivering that line with anything near the power summoned by Tennant. It's a dart to the heart, but its also one small piece of a very deft puzzle that Davies constructs throughout the season. Piper's decision to leave the series resulted in a heartbreaking farewell to Rose, but even that moment of high emotion served to illuminate the tragic nature of the Doctor's dilemma--he's a man who will always need a companion, but none of them will ever stay. His line in the fourth act of "The Girl In The Fireplace" is spot-on: "I'm all right." That's his blessing and his curse. Those he loves will age and die and leave, but the Doctor will always be "all right."
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Whiplash Cinema 1: When Irish Eyes Are Smilin'
I suffered from severe whiplash last week. I wasn't involved in a car accident or anything. No, I went to the movies. Twice. To see Shrek the Third and then The Wind That Shakes The Barley. Perhaps you now see why I'm dizzy and disoriented.
The original Shrek was a decent adaptation of a children's book by William Steig. Sure, the movie cleaned up Steigs's truly ugly ogre until he was just movie ugly, which is actually kinda cute. (It's the same standard that television uses when the terminally adorable Alyson Hannigan is given a bad haircut and we're supposed to believe that she's ugly, or that Sarah Michelle Gellar is an unattractive outcast ((sue me, I've been watching Buffy on DVD with my daughter))). The movie was a funny and mildly subversive take on fairy tales, almost like a family film for parents who loved The Princess Bride when they were dating or without child.
Shrek did very well at the box office, so it was written in the stars that Shrek II would come to be. Surprisingly, it did not come out as a crass grab for cash. It was a breezy, zippy trip that was elevated by the decision to treat the land of Far Far Away as an ur-Beverly Hills/Vegas. Antonio Banderas came aboard as Puss-n-Boots, a welcome counterweight to Eddie Murphy's braying ass... I mean, Donkey. The genuinely witty jokes blended rather well with the fart jokes and the whole enterprise was so well-cast and done with so much obvious affection that it was one of the better sequels in memory. It made piles of gelt. Would there be a third installment? Need you ask?
Shrek the Third does feel like a cash grab. It's not horrible. It doesn't blatantly insult the audience. It does lay there like a day-old fish, something once sleek and shiny, now cloudy and dull and starting to smell just a bit. The sense of enjoyable daftness that propelled the second movie is utterly absent. This is big-budget, lowest-common-denominator Hollywood blockbuster filmmaking at its most depressing--talented people doing a workmanlike job with zero inspiration or joy. C'mon, your movie involves a quest for the young King Arthur and you can't even making a frikkin' sword in the stone joke? The Third is a Shrek too far.
The Wind That Shakes the Barley on the other hand, is a movie that could never be a commercial hit. There are reasons for this. The theater where I saw it has an intermission in the middle of every film (it's a small indie theater and the owner has to change the reels by hand.). This is actually a nice chance to visit the snack bar and the bathroom and chat with other audience members. One fellow kept complaining that the film needed subtitles. He couldn't understand the Irish accents. So, the vast majority of the Deal or No Deal masses probably couldn't understand the actors. The film is also set in 1918 in Ireland. It doesn't explain what's going on; it assumes that you, by virture of your presence, either know something about "The Troubles" or that you'll be able to catch on. It's also unrelentingly intense and packed with passionate people taking opposing sides of a complex issue. Cillian Murphy, an actor both pretty and simian, and Padraic Delaney play the O'Donovan brothers and both actors are fantastic as they portray two characters who start out in very different places and travel the same path to arrive at two (tragically) altogether different endings.
The movie is directed by Ken Loach and written by Paul Laverty. It is gorgeous; the beauty of the Irish countryside makes the violence and bitter anger that occurs even more heartbreaking. At the end of the day, The Wind That Shakes the Barley couldn't be a box-office smash because it has no hero and no real villain. It only has people; flawed, miserable, lovely people who want something noble and who do things both great and awful to achieve it.
The original Shrek was a decent adaptation of a children's book by William Steig. Sure, the movie cleaned up Steigs's truly ugly ogre until he was just movie ugly, which is actually kinda cute. (It's the same standard that television uses when the terminally adorable Alyson Hannigan is given a bad haircut and we're supposed to believe that she's ugly, or that Sarah Michelle Gellar is an unattractive outcast ((sue me, I've been watching Buffy on DVD with my daughter))). The movie was a funny and mildly subversive take on fairy tales, almost like a family film for parents who loved The Princess Bride when they were dating or without child.
Shrek did very well at the box office, so it was written in the stars that Shrek II would come to be. Surprisingly, it did not come out as a crass grab for cash. It was a breezy, zippy trip that was elevated by the decision to treat the land of Far Far Away as an ur-Beverly Hills/Vegas. Antonio Banderas came aboard as Puss-n-Boots, a welcome counterweight to Eddie Murphy's braying ass... I mean, Donkey. The genuinely witty jokes blended rather well with the fart jokes and the whole enterprise was so well-cast and done with so much obvious affection that it was one of the better sequels in memory. It made piles of gelt. Would there be a third installment? Need you ask?
Shrek the Third does feel like a cash grab. It's not horrible. It doesn't blatantly insult the audience. It does lay there like a day-old fish, something once sleek and shiny, now cloudy and dull and starting to smell just a bit. The sense of enjoyable daftness that propelled the second movie is utterly absent. This is big-budget, lowest-common-denominator Hollywood blockbuster filmmaking at its most depressing--talented people doing a workmanlike job with zero inspiration or joy. C'mon, your movie involves a quest for the young King Arthur and you can't even making a frikkin' sword in the stone joke? The Third is a Shrek too far.
The Wind That Shakes the Barley on the other hand, is a movie that could never be a commercial hit. There are reasons for this. The theater where I saw it has an intermission in the middle of every film (it's a small indie theater and the owner has to change the reels by hand.). This is actually a nice chance to visit the snack bar and the bathroom and chat with other audience members. One fellow kept complaining that the film needed subtitles. He couldn't understand the Irish accents. So, the vast majority of the Deal or No Deal masses probably couldn't understand the actors. The film is also set in 1918 in Ireland. It doesn't explain what's going on; it assumes that you, by virture of your presence, either know something about "The Troubles" or that you'll be able to catch on. It's also unrelentingly intense and packed with passionate people taking opposing sides of a complex issue. Cillian Murphy, an actor both pretty and simian, and Padraic Delaney play the O'Donovan brothers and both actors are fantastic as they portray two characters who start out in very different places and travel the same path to arrive at two (tragically) altogether different endings.
The movie is directed by Ken Loach and written by Paul Laverty. It is gorgeous; the beauty of the Irish countryside makes the violence and bitter anger that occurs even more heartbreaking. At the end of the day, The Wind That Shakes the Barley couldn't be a box-office smash because it has no hero and no real villain. It only has people; flawed, miserable, lovely people who want something noble and who do things both great and awful to achieve it.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Checker Fred is dead.
Carl Wright died at the age of 75. His first movie role was in Soul Food (1997). He was Checker Fred in Barber Shop. I'm not African-American. I grew up a town that was lily-white. By rights, I should be one of those people who, in the infinite wisdom of movie executives, doesn't "get" Barbershop. But I have an uncle who was a barber, and some things are universal. I knew Checker Fred, and I loved Barbershop. Farewell, Fred. Hope you got kinged.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
"You Look Badass!"
That's the line. That's the one that put the Heroes season finale over the top. It wasn't a perfect finale, and sometimes it seemed like it wasn't even a very good one, but when Ando (James Kyson Lee) said those words to Hiro (Masi Oka), I laughed out loud. It was a good laugh, a laugh of appreciation and identification and it kind of summed up the appeal of Heroes.
The show was a hit from the first episode and it deserved it. From the introduction of Hiro, a Japanese cubicle slave who is convinced that he can control time and space, Heroes introduced a set of well-delineated characters and put them in a well-paced story that papered over weak moments with momentum and showcased a handful of very effective stand-alone episodes that introduced and illuminated a burgeoning mythology.
Special effects played a part in this. Heroes is a beneficiary of the improvement in CGI. Earlier attempts to translate comics to the television screen (think The Incredible Hulk and Spider-Man) suffered due to their inability to convincingly protray certain powers. Heroes had very little of those problems. Even the Niki/Jessica character split was the beneficiary of improvements in split-screen technology. A superhero show needs to be as seamless as possible; Heroes is fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time.
That's not enough to make a show a hit, though. Heroes introduced us to some compelling characters. Hiro was a breath of fresh air in the way he not only believed he had powers, but embraced them when his belief was confirmed. He was no dark, brooding protagonist. I think Oka's portrayal of Hiro's joy in his specialness was a big part of the show's early appeal. He was a meta-comment on the show's geek-love. Claire Bennet (Hayden Panettiere), Niki Sanders (Ali Larter), and Nathan Petrelli (Adrian Pasdar) were all strong characters, capable of carrying an entire episode. And the character who kicked the plot up to another level, HRG (Jack Coleman), Heroes Cigarette-Smoking Man and Special Agent Skinner rolled into one. Zachary Quinto did really good work as Sylar, the season arc's major villain. Hey, the show's guest stars were better than most casts. Clea Duvall as an FBI agent, Christopher Eccleston and Eric Roberts as figures from HRG's past, George Takei as Hiro's father... hey, the show even got Malcom McDowell to drop by as Linderman. One thing I really like about the season was that the writers seemed to enjoy writing for the actual heroes. Too many writers get attached to charismatic villains. I understand why. It's actually easier to write a vivid bad guy; you can write him as conflicted, turned evil by a bad past, or just make him the funniest, wittiest bastard in the room. Writing for good is harder, and Heroes was able to do it.
The show also knew that for us to believe that characters are in jeopardy, you have to kill one every now and then. At least six characters who were in multiple episodes bit the dust during the season. Every time one of them died, the stakes were raised for the others. There's no such thing as a compelling drama where everyone is safe.
The show wasn't perfect. One of the main characters, Peter Petrelli, was played by Milo Ventimiglia, an actor who makes my skin crawl every time I see him. The subplot about Matt Parkman (the awesome Greg Grunberg) and his wife was cliched and went nowhere. At least it tailed off fast. Mohinder (Sendhil Ramamurthy) wasn't much more than multi-cultural eye candy. The finale was poorly paced and the resolution of Peter's storyline was unsatisfying to say the least.
But I watched and I enjoyed, and my daughter watched it with me and we shared the experience. Heroes wasn't perfect, but it was a whole lot of fun, and I'll be watching next fall.
The show was a hit from the first episode and it deserved it. From the introduction of Hiro, a Japanese cubicle slave who is convinced that he can control time and space, Heroes introduced a set of well-delineated characters and put them in a well-paced story that papered over weak moments with momentum and showcased a handful of very effective stand-alone episodes that introduced and illuminated a burgeoning mythology.
Special effects played a part in this. Heroes is a beneficiary of the improvement in CGI. Earlier attempts to translate comics to the television screen (think The Incredible Hulk and Spider-Man) suffered due to their inability to convincingly protray certain powers. Heroes had very little of those problems. Even the Niki/Jessica character split was the beneficiary of improvements in split-screen technology. A superhero show needs to be as seamless as possible; Heroes is fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time.
That's not enough to make a show a hit, though. Heroes introduced us to some compelling characters. Hiro was a breath of fresh air in the way he not only believed he had powers, but embraced them when his belief was confirmed. He was no dark, brooding protagonist. I think Oka's portrayal of Hiro's joy in his specialness was a big part of the show's early appeal. He was a meta-comment on the show's geek-love. Claire Bennet (Hayden Panettiere), Niki Sanders (Ali Larter), and Nathan Petrelli (Adrian Pasdar) were all strong characters, capable of carrying an entire episode. And the character who kicked the plot up to another level, HRG (Jack Coleman), Heroes Cigarette-Smoking Man and Special Agent Skinner rolled into one. Zachary Quinto did really good work as Sylar, the season arc's major villain. Hey, the show's guest stars were better than most casts. Clea Duvall as an FBI agent, Christopher Eccleston and Eric Roberts as figures from HRG's past, George Takei as Hiro's father... hey, the show even got Malcom McDowell to drop by as Linderman. One thing I really like about the season was that the writers seemed to enjoy writing for the actual heroes. Too many writers get attached to charismatic villains. I understand why. It's actually easier to write a vivid bad guy; you can write him as conflicted, turned evil by a bad past, or just make him the funniest, wittiest bastard in the room. Writing for good is harder, and Heroes was able to do it.
The show also knew that for us to believe that characters are in jeopardy, you have to kill one every now and then. At least six characters who were in multiple episodes bit the dust during the season. Every time one of them died, the stakes were raised for the others. There's no such thing as a compelling drama where everyone is safe.
The show wasn't perfect. One of the main characters, Peter Petrelli, was played by Milo Ventimiglia, an actor who makes my skin crawl every time I see him. The subplot about Matt Parkman (the awesome Greg Grunberg) and his wife was cliched and went nowhere. At least it tailed off fast. Mohinder (Sendhil Ramamurthy) wasn't much more than multi-cultural eye candy. The finale was poorly paced and the resolution of Peter's storyline was unsatisfying to say the least.
But I watched and I enjoyed, and my daughter watched it with me and we shared the experience. Heroes wasn't perfect, but it was a whole lot of fun, and I'll be watching next fall.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
TV Roundup: Jericho
Jericho didn't make the CBS fall upfronts. It debuted to good ratings, went on winter hiatus, and never recovered. The show's saga (pompous term for 22 episodes, I know) is interesting because of what occurred in the show dramatically and what its fate says about the changing world of television.
First, the show itself. Jake Green (Skeet Ulrich, not looking at all like Johnny Depp anymore) returns home to Jericho, Kansas, after a long, mysterious absence. He runs into old flame Emily Sullivan (Ashley Scott and her ample bosom of hope) and his friend Stanley (Brad Beyer) whose farm is being audited by the IRS in the person of Mimi (Alicia Coppola). Just as the hometown reunion is reaching maximum awkwardness, nuclear explosions rock the world.
That's the setup, and the pilot was just about as bad and stiff as that paragraph sounds. Characters ranged from stock to cardboard. Only the actors redeemed the cliches. Gerald McRaney and Pamela Reed were (as usual) excellent as Johnston and Gail Green, Skeet/Jake's parents, and when Lennie Harris appeared on the screen, I became happy, even if he was playing a character best summarized as "The Mysterious Negro of Omniscience." Characters behaved stupidly and the writers didn't seem to have any idea what might be the after-effects of nuclear detonations, either scientific or societal. The first couple of episodes were borderline awful. Mediocrity was to be cherished.
Then a funny thing happened. The showrunners were smart enough to realize what was working and what wasn't. Nothing ever goes as planned on a television or movie set. The key is to maximize what's right and minimize what's wrong. Jericho began to do that. Skeet Ulrich looks like thirty miles of bad road and leaves you wondering just what the hell he's done to himself since Miracles got canceled? Ashley Scott inspires thoughts of wood, only it's the maple and oak variety rather than the Cialis sort? Minimize the Jake/Emily love story. Gerald McRaney and Lennie Harris dominate every scene they're in? Suddenly Johnston Green and Rob Hawkins are getting a lot more story. No real good explanation for the big "who dropped the nuke" storyline? Focus on how a community might cope with any disaster that ruptured the fabric of society. Does the Eric/April/Mary triangle suck all the air out of the room? Hey, if April dies of pregnancy-related complications after Eric leaves her, we've got years of survivor's guilt to serve as motivation.
Maybe it was planned. Maybe they had it in mind all along, but it didn't feel that way to me. It felt to me like the producers were tinkering on the fly, trying to see what worked and discarding what didn't. I'd bet money that many of the elements of Hawkins' story were made up fast, even if the big arc was predetermined.
BTW, the saga of the family Hawkins provided one of my favorite TV moments of the year. In a mini-arc that coincided with the show's improvement, Sarah Mason (Siena Goines) shows up in Jericho. She's Hawkins ex-partner in whatever nefarious doings he was part of. We learn that she's not to be trusted and the whole affair culminates with her holding a gun on Hawkins in his living room. Shots ring out. Is Hawkins dead? Naw. His daughter Allison (Jazz Raycole, and isn't that the coolest name?) has picked up his gun and plugged Sarah. Hawkins and his wife, Darcy (April Parker) run to her to console her after this terrible event.
Allison's reaction? "I'm okay. Really." I almost fell off the couch laughing. "Hey, dad, I'm a stone killer. Must be your genes." Yeah, post-nuke life be different.
Jericho was righting itself, growing from embarrassing pilot to interesting with potential. I believe its cancellation was indicative of just how TV is changing and how networks are still oblivious.
First, the winter hiatus killed the show. Even Heroes, 2007-08's freshman hit, suffered a ratings drop after taking time off. Broadcast networks are going to have to learn a hard lesson: repeats don't work and hiatus kills. One reason networks still do this is the asinine "order 13 and if we like it we'll go to 22" model. Look at what cable nets do. USA has something on the order of 8 episodes of Monk in January, then it's off until 8 more in July. SciFi will run the second season of Eureka this summer. They'll run it straight through and then it's off. CBS, listen to me: If you like a show like Jericho, order 13 episodes. Shoot 'em and air 'em. Ratings good? Don't try to short-order nine more eps for the same season. Order another 13-22 for next fall. Make the runs shorter and run them straight through.
Second, a show's return must be an event. Jericho aired its last fall episode, "Vox Populi", on 29 November 2006. The next new ep, "Black Jack", aired on 28 February 2007. That's three full months. What about dead-of-winter February makes it a good time to run more episodes? Introduce a limited-run series, maybe, but bring back a show that people haven't seen since Thanksgiving? A show that was just starting to find its own artistic voice? On top of that, CBS did exactly bupkus to promote the return. The networks apparently assume "Hey, they'll be home with their asses on the couch. They'll find it. What else they gonna do?" The answer? They'll do a lot. Networks still don't seem to realize that they are one of several options and the public is no longer beholden to them for content.
Third, the 22-episode season must go. I know someone will cry "Gunsmoke used to do forty (or however many) episodes a year!" No, they didn't. Gunsmoke (and Bonanza, et al.) did four episodes ten times with different actors. Seriously, you ever watch one of those old shows on TV Land? They had three plots and six story elements for variety. They would mix and match by, apparently, posting these on a wall and throwing darts. Seriously, TV is so much better now, but better also means competitive. There's also more of it and, honestly, a finite number of people who can do a good job creating the stuff. Borrow from the British model. Shorter seasons done at higher quality, perhaps set an episode limit during development. If your story can be told fully in 50 episodes, why try and flog the show for six seasons? Why drain a good show of all life and creativity by insisting that it go on well beyond its natural life (this is the X-Files rule)?
So that's Jericho, a modest little show that might have been pretty good, but because of a slow start and network idiocy, never got off the ground. I'll miss it, but not a lot.
First, the show itself. Jake Green (Skeet Ulrich, not looking at all like Johnny Depp anymore) returns home to Jericho, Kansas, after a long, mysterious absence. He runs into old flame Emily Sullivan (Ashley Scott and her ample bosom of hope) and his friend Stanley (Brad Beyer) whose farm is being audited by the IRS in the person of Mimi (Alicia Coppola). Just as the hometown reunion is reaching maximum awkwardness, nuclear explosions rock the world.
That's the setup, and the pilot was just about as bad and stiff as that paragraph sounds. Characters ranged from stock to cardboard. Only the actors redeemed the cliches. Gerald McRaney and Pamela Reed were (as usual) excellent as Johnston and Gail Green, Skeet/Jake's parents, and when Lennie Harris appeared on the screen, I became happy, even if he was playing a character best summarized as "The Mysterious Negro of Omniscience." Characters behaved stupidly and the writers didn't seem to have any idea what might be the after-effects of nuclear detonations, either scientific or societal. The first couple of episodes were borderline awful. Mediocrity was to be cherished.
Then a funny thing happened. The showrunners were smart enough to realize what was working and what wasn't. Nothing ever goes as planned on a television or movie set. The key is to maximize what's right and minimize what's wrong. Jericho began to do that. Skeet Ulrich looks like thirty miles of bad road and leaves you wondering just what the hell he's done to himself since Miracles got canceled? Ashley Scott inspires thoughts of wood, only it's the maple and oak variety rather than the Cialis sort? Minimize the Jake/Emily love story. Gerald McRaney and Lennie Harris dominate every scene they're in? Suddenly Johnston Green and Rob Hawkins are getting a lot more story. No real good explanation for the big "who dropped the nuke" storyline? Focus on how a community might cope with any disaster that ruptured the fabric of society. Does the Eric/April/Mary triangle suck all the air out of the room? Hey, if April dies of pregnancy-related complications after Eric leaves her, we've got years of survivor's guilt to serve as motivation.
Maybe it was planned. Maybe they had it in mind all along, but it didn't feel that way to me. It felt to me like the producers were tinkering on the fly, trying to see what worked and discarding what didn't. I'd bet money that many of the elements of Hawkins' story were made up fast, even if the big arc was predetermined.
BTW, the saga of the family Hawkins provided one of my favorite TV moments of the year. In a mini-arc that coincided with the show's improvement, Sarah Mason (Siena Goines) shows up in Jericho. She's Hawkins ex-partner in whatever nefarious doings he was part of. We learn that she's not to be trusted and the whole affair culminates with her holding a gun on Hawkins in his living room. Shots ring out. Is Hawkins dead? Naw. His daughter Allison (Jazz Raycole, and isn't that the coolest name?) has picked up his gun and plugged Sarah. Hawkins and his wife, Darcy (April Parker) run to her to console her after this terrible event.
Allison's reaction? "I'm okay. Really." I almost fell off the couch laughing. "Hey, dad, I'm a stone killer. Must be your genes." Yeah, post-nuke life be different.
Jericho was righting itself, growing from embarrassing pilot to interesting with potential. I believe its cancellation was indicative of just how TV is changing and how networks are still oblivious.
First, the winter hiatus killed the show. Even Heroes, 2007-08's freshman hit, suffered a ratings drop after taking time off. Broadcast networks are going to have to learn a hard lesson: repeats don't work and hiatus kills. One reason networks still do this is the asinine "order 13 and if we like it we'll go to 22" model. Look at what cable nets do. USA has something on the order of 8 episodes of Monk in January, then it's off until 8 more in July. SciFi will run the second season of Eureka this summer. They'll run it straight through and then it's off. CBS, listen to me: If you like a show like Jericho, order 13 episodes. Shoot 'em and air 'em. Ratings good? Don't try to short-order nine more eps for the same season. Order another 13-22 for next fall. Make the runs shorter and run them straight through.
Second, a show's return must be an event. Jericho aired its last fall episode, "Vox Populi", on 29 November 2006. The next new ep, "Black Jack", aired on 28 February 2007. That's three full months. What about dead-of-winter February makes it a good time to run more episodes? Introduce a limited-run series, maybe, but bring back a show that people haven't seen since Thanksgiving? A show that was just starting to find its own artistic voice? On top of that, CBS did exactly bupkus to promote the return. The networks apparently assume "Hey, they'll be home with their asses on the couch. They'll find it. What else they gonna do?" The answer? They'll do a lot. Networks still don't seem to realize that they are one of several options and the public is no longer beholden to them for content.
Third, the 22-episode season must go. I know someone will cry "Gunsmoke used to do forty (or however many) episodes a year!" No, they didn't. Gunsmoke (and Bonanza, et al.) did four episodes ten times with different actors. Seriously, you ever watch one of those old shows on TV Land? They had three plots and six story elements for variety. They would mix and match by, apparently, posting these on a wall and throwing darts. Seriously, TV is so much better now, but better also means competitive. There's also more of it and, honestly, a finite number of people who can do a good job creating the stuff. Borrow from the British model. Shorter seasons done at higher quality, perhaps set an episode limit during development. If your story can be told fully in 50 episodes, why try and flog the show for six seasons? Why drain a good show of all life and creativity by insisting that it go on well beyond its natural life (this is the X-Files rule)?
So that's Jericho, a modest little show that might have been pretty good, but because of a slow start and network idiocy, never got off the ground. I'll miss it, but not a lot.
Monday, May 14, 2007
TV Roundup: Friday Night Lights
With May sweeps signalling the end of the traditional TV season, I would like to look back at a few shows that caught my attention. I ended up watching three new dramas--Jericho, Heroes, and Friday Night Lights.
Jericho started slow (how often do you get to say that about a show that detonates a nuclear bomb in the first episode) but quickly got better. Heroes was as close to a phenomenon as a scripted show gets these days. It began fast and gained from there. I'll take a more in-depth look at those two shows later. First, I want to consider the best new show of the season, a show that's already one of the two or three best dramas on TV: Friday Night Lights.
This is the third iteration of this story. It started as a prize-winning book by Buzz Bissinger about Odessa, TX, a blighted oil-patch city in West Texas that lives and dies with the Permian Panthers. That turned into a movie starring Billy Bob Thornton, who gave a fine performance as Coach Gary Gaines. The movie was pretty good.
When NBC announced FNL would be on their fall schedule, I groaned. First, I thought it would be another lying hagiography of small-town athletic values. I grew up in a football-crazy small town. Hey, I played in high school. There's no bigger snake-pit in the world. Second, I hate, hate, hate the way most sports are portrayed on TV shows (White Shadow excepted). They look cheesy and cheap.
Then I watched the pilot. It was stunning. From Kyle Chandler (Coach Derek Taylor) to Zach Gilford (Matt Saracen) to Gaius Charles (Smash Williams) the team was amazingly well-cast. Taylor Kitsch was immediately noticed as bad-boy fullback Tim Riggins, but even this seemingly stock character was quickly revealed to have many different facets. And the female characters! Unknown (at least to me) Minka Kelly, Adrianne Palicki (her Tyra was another stock character quickly turned 3-D) and young Aimee Teagarden (one of the few actual teens in the cast) were phenomenal. But the queen bee who ruled them all was Connie Britton as Tami Taylor. I have to admit here that I have a long-standing crush on Britton and have often bitched and moaned about her inability to find a role that took advantage of her smarts and sexuality. Well, she's found that role. Add in Jesse Plemons (Landry Clarke), Blue Deckert (Mac McGill), and Brad Leland (he rules as Buddy Garrity) and you have one of the most talented and jam-packed ensembles on TV.
The writing and cinematography were first-class. The show looked spectacular. Berg's method of shooting (hand-held cameras constantly rolling, camera operators responsible for finding the shot, actors concentrating on performance not blocking) gave a distinctive feel to each episode, and the football action looked amazing. Shot in long takes, you got a real sense of where players were in space and the actors (or stunt performers) actually looked like high-school players, not 30-year-old behemoths. FNL was one of the most expensive shows of the season, but it looked like every dime was on the screen.
I only have one complaint. Dillon was supposed to be a powerhouse team and one of the season-long arcs was whether or not the team would reach its championship potential (they did, btw, in a wonderfully shot state championship game). Some bloggers and critics have complained about the team's improbably second-half comeback in the championship game, but as Gregg Easterbrook likes to say, "Until it's half-time, you've got just as much time to come back as they did to get ahead." Given that the Panthers comeback started early in the second half and stretched across the full 30 minutes, it seemed very realistic. My complaint is not about the championship game. It's about the season. I played for a very good high school team, a state powerhouse in our classification. We usually had two tough games a year. Dillon won every game in the last seconds. Come on, if you're championship caliber in Texas, at least six of your games are going to be wins on the order of 48-6 or 63-7. Still, I realize that a huge rout is not that dramatically interesting, so I'll go with it.
Friday Night Lights has received an order for 22 second- season episodes. A few critics have wondered what the show will do since the Panthers won state in their first season. Come on!! (to quote Gob Bluth) Trying to get a team ready to repeat is its own struggle. I foresee complacency, ego, selfishness....
I can't wait.
Jericho started slow (how often do you get to say that about a show that detonates a nuclear bomb in the first episode) but quickly got better. Heroes was as close to a phenomenon as a scripted show gets these days. It began fast and gained from there. I'll take a more in-depth look at those two shows later. First, I want to consider the best new show of the season, a show that's already one of the two or three best dramas on TV: Friday Night Lights.
This is the third iteration of this story. It started as a prize-winning book by Buzz Bissinger about Odessa, TX, a blighted oil-patch city in West Texas that lives and dies with the Permian Panthers. That turned into a movie starring Billy Bob Thornton, who gave a fine performance as Coach Gary Gaines. The movie was pretty good.
When NBC announced FNL would be on their fall schedule, I groaned. First, I thought it would be another lying hagiography of small-town athletic values. I grew up in a football-crazy small town. Hey, I played in high school. There's no bigger snake-pit in the world. Second, I hate, hate, hate the way most sports are portrayed on TV shows (White Shadow excepted). They look cheesy and cheap.
Then I watched the pilot. It was stunning. From Kyle Chandler (Coach Derek Taylor) to Zach Gilford (Matt Saracen) to Gaius Charles (Smash Williams) the team was amazingly well-cast. Taylor Kitsch was immediately noticed as bad-boy fullback Tim Riggins, but even this seemingly stock character was quickly revealed to have many different facets. And the female characters! Unknown (at least to me) Minka Kelly, Adrianne Palicki (her Tyra was another stock character quickly turned 3-D) and young Aimee Teagarden (one of the few actual teens in the cast) were phenomenal. But the queen bee who ruled them all was Connie Britton as Tami Taylor. I have to admit here that I have a long-standing crush on Britton and have often bitched and moaned about her inability to find a role that took advantage of her smarts and sexuality. Well, she's found that role. Add in Jesse Plemons (Landry Clarke), Blue Deckert (Mac McGill), and Brad Leland (he rules as Buddy Garrity) and you have one of the most talented and jam-packed ensembles on TV.
The writing and cinematography were first-class. The show looked spectacular. Berg's method of shooting (hand-held cameras constantly rolling, camera operators responsible for finding the shot, actors concentrating on performance not blocking) gave a distinctive feel to each episode, and the football action looked amazing. Shot in long takes, you got a real sense of where players were in space and the actors (or stunt performers) actually looked like high-school players, not 30-year-old behemoths. FNL was one of the most expensive shows of the season, but it looked like every dime was on the screen.
I only have one complaint. Dillon was supposed to be a powerhouse team and one of the season-long arcs was whether or not the team would reach its championship potential (they did, btw, in a wonderfully shot state championship game). Some bloggers and critics have complained about the team's improbably second-half comeback in the championship game, but as Gregg Easterbrook likes to say, "Until it's half-time, you've got just as much time to come back as they did to get ahead." Given that the Panthers comeback started early in the second half and stretched across the full 30 minutes, it seemed very realistic. My complaint is not about the championship game. It's about the season. I played for a very good high school team, a state powerhouse in our classification. We usually had two tough games a year. Dillon won every game in the last seconds. Come on, if you're championship caliber in Texas, at least six of your games are going to be wins on the order of 48-6 or 63-7. Still, I realize that a huge rout is not that dramatically interesting, so I'll go with it.
Friday Night Lights has received an order for 22 second- season episodes. A few critics have wondered what the show will do since the Panthers won state in their first season. Come on!! (to quote Gob Bluth) Trying to get a team ready to repeat is its own struggle. I foresee complacency, ego, selfishness....
I can't wait.
Friday, May 11, 2007
If You're Out On The Road...
Gilmore Girls ends its run on the CW/WB on May 15. It's a good thing that Lauren Graham and Alexis Bleidel turned down the offer of a 13-episode run in 2007-08. GG has staggered this season due to the loss of creator/exec producer Amy Sherman-Palladino. It reminds me of the demise of Designing Women, a show that for about four seasons in the late '80s and early 90s was about as funny as you could get until Delta Burke and Jean Smart left the cast in quick succession. Linda Bloodworth-Thomason had created the show with four strong, distinctive voices and losing two of them crippled her. Oddly enough, while Smart is the more esteemed actress, the loss of Burke was probably the one that Thomason couldn't overcome. Burke's Suzanne had become not only a reliable provider of screwball plot twists and character bits, but Burke's syncopated line readings proved impossible for gifted comediennes like Julia Duffy and Judith Ivey to duplicate. Try and replicate Burke's inflection of the lines "Well, I guess she didn't know!" and "I guess she knew!" from 1990's "The Mistress." It can't be done. In addition, Suzanne seemed to be the character most identified with by Boodworth-Thomason. She has said that her planned finale for the show was for Suzanne and Anthony (Meshach Taylor) to elope. What a perfect ending.
But something else connects Designing Women to Gilmore Girls, and that is the love of language. Anyone who ever experienced the dizzy delight of one of Dixie Carter's screwball monologues never forgot it. Here's a sample:
But this is about the end of Gilmore Girls. What it truly shared with DesigningWomen was a love of character and language. And what language!!! Sherman-Palladino whipped up the fastest dialogue since His Girl Friday, but she had the cast to deliver the goods. Lauren Graham never even got nominated for an Emmy, which is one more reason awards suck, but look at the rest of the cast: Bledel, the brilliant Kelly Bishop (Emily Gilmore, you truly rock!), Edward Herrmann... Edward Herrmann!!! FDR, Sunrise at Campobello, voice of the History Channel. Yanic Truesdale, Liza Weil, hell, Keiko Agena. I think that GG may be the last show to really feature dialogue, extended conversations between two or more characters. I'm pretty sure it will be the last one to assume that both characters and viewers will be smart. Television will feel a little dumber for that.
One other area of Gilmore Girls deserves special notice. I can't think of another show that so venerated and featured music, and not just music as product placement ("Tonight's episode of Smallville feature music by--"), but as lifeblood. Not only did Rory and Lane have great conversations about bands, but Lorelai still thought music was important, and not the music of her high school days either, but new music. The show featured wonderful pop songs and had Sam Phillips provide what Television Without Pity calls "the strummy-strummy la-las." Grant Lee Phillips had a recurring role as the town troubadour. It even made Sebastian Bach seem cool. Tell me Sherman-Palladino can't raise the dead.
The only real gaffe in the show's run was the too-long attempt to shove Milo Ventimiglia down our throats as Jess, but even that paid off when succeeding seasons established that, for all her smarts, Rory is an idiot when it comes to choosing men. The show was that good. It could make one of the things I hated about it into a character trait.
So, away with you, Gilmore Girls. Rest easy. I will remember you, and I'll choke up a little every time I hear Carole King sing, "If you're out on the road..."
But something else connects Designing Women to Gilmore Girls, and that is the love of language. Anyone who ever experienced the dizzy delight of one of Dixie Carter's screwball monologues never forgot it. Here's a sample:
after Charlene turns juror Julia in for discussing her case outside of courtAnd another:
Charlene: [on the phone] Now Julia, you sound overwrought.
Julia: Yeah, well you're gonna think overwrought. If I miss my dinner with Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter because of this, you're going to pay and pay big. I'm going to find you and hunt you down like a dog! I'm talking about you running through the woods in the snow with blood hounds ripping your clothes off! And remember Charlene, I have your address. You'd be wise to ask yourself "Do I know where my baby is?"
Yes, and I gather from your comments there are a couple of other things you don't know, Marjorie. For example, you probably didn't know that Suzanne was the only contestant in Georgia pageant history to sweep every category except congeniality, and that is not something the women in my family aspire to anyway. Or that when she walked down the runway in her swimsuit, five contestants quit on the spot. Or that when she emerged from the isolation booth to answer the question, "What would you do to prevent war?" she spoke so eloquently of patriotism, battlefields and diamond tiaras, grown men wept. And you probably didn't know, Marjorie, that Suzanne was not just any Miss Georgia, she was the Miss Georgia. She didn't twirl just a baton, that baton was on fire. And when she threw that baton into the air, it flew higher, further, faster than any baton has ever flown before, hitting a transformer and showering the darkened arena with sparks! And when it finally did come down, Marjorie, my sister caught that baton, and 12,000 people jumped to their feet for sixteen and one-half minutes of uninterrupted thunderous ovation, as flames illuminated her tear-stained face! And that, Marjorie - just so you will know - and your children will someday know - is the night the lights went out in Georgia!And that's from early in the show's run, before Bloodworth-Thomason really found her stroke. I can't find an exact quotation of Carter's brilliant diatribe at the end of "La Place Sans Souci", and I'm not going to try and recreate it. All I'll say is that I always wait for it when I see that episode on Lifetime or Nickelodeon.
But this is about the end of Gilmore Girls. What it truly shared with DesigningWomen was a love of character and language. And what language!!! Sherman-Palladino whipped up the fastest dialogue since His Girl Friday, but she had the cast to deliver the goods. Lauren Graham never even got nominated for an Emmy, which is one more reason awards suck, but look at the rest of the cast: Bledel, the brilliant Kelly Bishop (Emily Gilmore, you truly rock!), Edward Herrmann... Edward Herrmann!!! FDR, Sunrise at Campobello, voice of the History Channel. Yanic Truesdale, Liza Weil, hell, Keiko Agena. I think that GG may be the last show to really feature dialogue, extended conversations between two or more characters. I'm pretty sure it will be the last one to assume that both characters and viewers will be smart. Television will feel a little dumber for that.
One other area of Gilmore Girls deserves special notice. I can't think of another show that so venerated and featured music, and not just music as product placement ("Tonight's episode of Smallville feature music by--"), but as lifeblood. Not only did Rory and Lane have great conversations about bands, but Lorelai still thought music was important, and not the music of her high school days either, but new music. The show featured wonderful pop songs and had Sam Phillips provide what Television Without Pity calls "the strummy-strummy la-las." Grant Lee Phillips had a recurring role as the town troubadour. It even made Sebastian Bach seem cool. Tell me Sherman-Palladino can't raise the dead.
The only real gaffe in the show's run was the too-long attempt to shove Milo Ventimiglia down our throats as Jess, but even that paid off when succeeding seasons established that, for all her smarts, Rory is an idiot when it comes to choosing men. The show was that good. It could make one of the things I hated about it into a character trait.
So, away with you, Gilmore Girls. Rest easy. I will remember you, and I'll choke up a little every time I hear Carole King sing, "If you're out on the road..."
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
The Freshman Fifteen
It's been almost thirty years since I graduated from high school. One of my classmates was a very, very smart girl. She not only had a fine mind, but a good work ethic and admirable study habits. We graduated and some of us trickled off to college (I graduated in a very small town where the majority of folk still thought of college as a way to delay growing up). I returned to the old native soil for midterm my first semester. Another classmate took it upon himself to organize a get-together for those of us who were back from college. As we pulled into the parking lot at Pizza Hut, she was getting out of her dad's pickup. I was struck, even in my narcissistic 18-year-old haze, by how drawn and tense she looked. While most of us were giddy about the new world of higher learning, she was not. At Christmas, she withdrew from school. Thirty years later, she's still in my hometown. She's still smart, still capable; college wasn't too hard for her academically. She just couldn't adjust.
Great TV shows set in high school often suffer the same fate. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was genius as long as its inhabitants roamed the halls of Sunnydale High; once they moved on to UC-Sunnydale and other pursuits, the show slipped and, even though it was capable of brilliant moments, it never again achieved that sustained level. We all know that Saved by the Bell: The College Years was a vastly inferior product compared to the original (/sarcasm). Many of us are sad that Freaks and Geeks was only around for a handful of episodes, but maybe that's a blessing in disguise. We never had to endure a clunky transition out of high school.
That's why the annual drama surrounding the impending cancellation/renewal of Veronica Mars is such a conundrum this year. The first season of VM was great. Rob Thomas seemed to tap into the same vein of pop culture as Joss Whedon; the show's dialogue snapped and it was blessed with a really good ensemble cast, led by a marvelous performance from Kristen Bell. Like Buffy at its best, VM's plots served as an examination of and commentary on larger social issues and themes. Also, the soundtrack killed. Season two was not as good, but it suffered only in comparison with the high standard set by season one. Plus season two featured "Dakota" by Stereophonics. That's a plus.
Which brings us to season three. As college transitions go, it hasn't been bad, but Thomas misses the self-contained world of high school, where you are so often forced into close proximity with people you cannot stand. Antagonists can be kept in constant contact without stretching credibility too much. Collisions between characters that are inevitable in high school become contrived when shoehorned into the more open, autonomous world of a college campus.Take Eli Navarro/Weevil (Francis Capra). At Neptune High his continued presence as Veronica's nemesis/conscience/sometimes accomplice was easily explained; season three's attempts to fit him into the ensemble via a job in the Hearst maintenance department feel contrived.
Now come the final five episodes. VM has abandoned the arc school of storytelling. The last five hours will solve stand-alone mysteries rather than being devoted to any sort of overarching case. Season three has already tinkered with the arc methodology. Instead of one long arc like the first two seasons, this season has already used two mini-arcs. The first dealt with Veronica solving a series of campus rapes. In the second she found the killer of the college dean. Neither of these arcs had the resonance of the first two seasons, but they were useful in knitting the episodes together and providing the show with forward momentum.
If the first two of the new stand-alone stories are indicative of the future, it might be time to let Veronica go. "Un-American Graffiti" was the first outright stinker in the show's history, a shallow, heavy-handed screed against racism and xenophobia. The B-plot wasn't too hot either. "Debasement Tapes" did feature a wry guest-starring turn by Paul Rudd, but the mystery itself was weak. The real flaw is not in the mysteries, however.
VM burst onto the scene as a tart teen noir. The Logan/Veronica coupling that began mid-season one added spice, but it appears that in the brave new world, relationships will be the linchpin of Veronica. That's bad news. It's the death knell for what made the show special. Rumor has it that a fourth season might just jump over college and introduce us to a Veronica already in the FBI. If the last two episodes are indicators rather than outliers, that might be a good idea.
Great TV shows set in high school often suffer the same fate. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was genius as long as its inhabitants roamed the halls of Sunnydale High; once they moved on to UC-Sunnydale and other pursuits, the show slipped and, even though it was capable of brilliant moments, it never again achieved that sustained level. We all know that Saved by the Bell: The College Years was a vastly inferior product compared to the original (/sarcasm). Many of us are sad that Freaks and Geeks was only around for a handful of episodes, but maybe that's a blessing in disguise. We never had to endure a clunky transition out of high school.
That's why the annual drama surrounding the impending cancellation/renewal of Veronica Mars is such a conundrum this year. The first season of VM was great. Rob Thomas seemed to tap into the same vein of pop culture as Joss Whedon; the show's dialogue snapped and it was blessed with a really good ensemble cast, led by a marvelous performance from Kristen Bell. Like Buffy at its best, VM's plots served as an examination of and commentary on larger social issues and themes. Also, the soundtrack killed. Season two was not as good, but it suffered only in comparison with the high standard set by season one. Plus season two featured "Dakota" by Stereophonics. That's a plus.
Which brings us to season three. As college transitions go, it hasn't been bad, but Thomas misses the self-contained world of high school, where you are so often forced into close proximity with people you cannot stand. Antagonists can be kept in constant contact without stretching credibility too much. Collisions between characters that are inevitable in high school become contrived when shoehorned into the more open, autonomous world of a college campus.Take Eli Navarro/Weevil (Francis Capra). At Neptune High his continued presence as Veronica's nemesis/conscience/sometimes accomplice was easily explained; season three's attempts to fit him into the ensemble via a job in the Hearst maintenance department feel contrived.
Now come the final five episodes. VM has abandoned the arc school of storytelling. The last five hours will solve stand-alone mysteries rather than being devoted to any sort of overarching case. Season three has already tinkered with the arc methodology. Instead of one long arc like the first two seasons, this season has already used two mini-arcs. The first dealt with Veronica solving a series of campus rapes. In the second she found the killer of the college dean. Neither of these arcs had the resonance of the first two seasons, but they were useful in knitting the episodes together and providing the show with forward momentum.
If the first two of the new stand-alone stories are indicative of the future, it might be time to let Veronica go. "Un-American Graffiti" was the first outright stinker in the show's history, a shallow, heavy-handed screed against racism and xenophobia. The B-plot wasn't too hot either. "Debasement Tapes" did feature a wry guest-starring turn by Paul Rudd, but the mystery itself was weak. The real flaw is not in the mysteries, however.
VM burst onto the scene as a tart teen noir. The Logan/Veronica coupling that began mid-season one added spice, but it appears that in the brave new world, relationships will be the linchpin of Veronica. That's bad news. It's the death knell for what made the show special. Rumor has it that a fourth season might just jump over college and introduce us to a Veronica already in the FBI. If the last two episodes are indicators rather than outliers, that might be a good idea.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Oh Spider-Man, my Spider-Man!
I loved Spider-Man and Spider-Man 2. I believe that S-M2 is the best comic-book movie ever. That may not be a crowded field, but it's so far above whatever's in second place that it will be a while before it's lapped. I walked into the theater on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, expecting to be taken away by Sam Raimi's skillful tightrope act.
What a disappointment.
Spider-Man 3 is bloated where 2 was big, lumbering where the first two were sleek and nimble (especially for huge sfx blockbusters), and corny and sentimental where its predecessors were heartfelt and sincere. It's a serious stumble and the cause is pretty easy to see, at least for me.
Too much. Too much of everything. Three villains, any one of whom could have been the antagonist for a better movie. Too much relationship turmoil. Too much SFX and too many action scenes that seem to be constructed mainly for the purpose of showcasing just how bitchin' are the skills of Sony's DFX crew. Too much spectacle and not enough script.
Spider-Man and Spider-Man 2 reaped the benefits of solid screenwriting. 2 enjoyed the input of writers like Miles Millar, Albert Gough, and Michael Chabon. Director Raimi and his brother Ivan handle the story chores this time round and share screenplay credit w/ Alvin Sargent (credits stretching back almost 50 years, including Spider-Man 2). I've already mentioned that there's too much of everything in the movie and that includes the script. Stuffed to bursting, it allows little time for any of its themes or situations to breathe and develop. It feels less like an organic story and more like a shopping list of plot points. Heroic angst? Check. Romantic difficulty? Check.
Let me say plainly that the decision to provide impediment to the love story of Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson is one of the story's grave errors. With so much else going on, let the kids have one movie where they're happy together. Heaven knows there's enough else going on in the movie. There'll be plenty of time in later movies to truly explore the difficulties that arise between these two, and to explore them in depth, not as plot complication 7-E. And when you do explore it, do it right; don't shorthand it by introducing Gwen Stacey, one of the most iconic characters in the Spiderverse, and reducing her to a pawn whose sole purpose is to cause Mary Jane to act like an idiot.
That plot thread dovetails with the Venom/Black Spidey subplot to produce one of the most embarrassing sequences ever filmed by Sam Raimi. I'm referring to the homage to/parody of John Travolta's "strut" scene from Saturday Night Fever. I'm at a loss to understand what this scene is supposed to represent. If it's meant to be a serious shorthand/montage of Peter falling under the influence of the dark side, then it's way too arch and campy. If it's supposed to be funny and lighthearted, then it goes on way too long and beats its own joke to death. The culmination at the "jazz club" almost made me crawl under my seat.
You know Spider-Man 3 has gone off the rails when my first reaction to the death of the New Goblin was, "Wow, James Franco really didn't want to come back for 4." Major character death should not turn the audience's thoughts to contractual obligation.
Is the movie a disaster? No. Even with all these flaws, there is so much talent on hand that it's still got some very strong points. Bruce Campbell's cameo is hilarious; Brisco County Jr./Ash Williams breathes life into the movie for a couple of minutes. Topher Grace delivers a light-footed, teasing performance that made me wish they had waited until about number four to introduce Venom. As it is, Grace is there and gone, but his scenes with Maguire exude a spark that seems to come from within the two actors. The effects are spectacular, even when they're overdone. It's not the execution that's lacking here so much as a plan.
Sam, next time, when you think the script is done, give Michael Chabon a call.
What a disappointment.
Spider-Man 3 is bloated where 2 was big, lumbering where the first two were sleek and nimble (especially for huge sfx blockbusters), and corny and sentimental where its predecessors were heartfelt and sincere. It's a serious stumble and the cause is pretty easy to see, at least for me.
Too much. Too much of everything. Three villains, any one of whom could have been the antagonist for a better movie. Too much relationship turmoil. Too much SFX and too many action scenes that seem to be constructed mainly for the purpose of showcasing just how bitchin' are the skills of Sony's DFX crew. Too much spectacle and not enough script.
Spider-Man and Spider-Man 2 reaped the benefits of solid screenwriting. 2 enjoyed the input of writers like Miles Millar, Albert Gough, and Michael Chabon. Director Raimi and his brother Ivan handle the story chores this time round and share screenplay credit w/ Alvin Sargent (credits stretching back almost 50 years, including Spider-Man 2). I've already mentioned that there's too much of everything in the movie and that includes the script. Stuffed to bursting, it allows little time for any of its themes or situations to breathe and develop. It feels less like an organic story and more like a shopping list of plot points. Heroic angst? Check. Romantic difficulty? Check.
Let me say plainly that the decision to provide impediment to the love story of Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson is one of the story's grave errors. With so much else going on, let the kids have one movie where they're happy together. Heaven knows there's enough else going on in the movie. There'll be plenty of time in later movies to truly explore the difficulties that arise between these two, and to explore them in depth, not as plot complication 7-E. And when you do explore it, do it right; don't shorthand it by introducing Gwen Stacey, one of the most iconic characters in the Spiderverse, and reducing her to a pawn whose sole purpose is to cause Mary Jane to act like an idiot.
That plot thread dovetails with the Venom/Black Spidey subplot to produce one of the most embarrassing sequences ever filmed by Sam Raimi. I'm referring to the homage to/parody of John Travolta's "strut" scene from Saturday Night Fever. I'm at a loss to understand what this scene is supposed to represent. If it's meant to be a serious shorthand/montage of Peter falling under the influence of the dark side, then it's way too arch and campy. If it's supposed to be funny and lighthearted, then it goes on way too long and beats its own joke to death. The culmination at the "jazz club" almost made me crawl under my seat.
You know Spider-Man 3 has gone off the rails when my first reaction to the death of the New Goblin was, "Wow, James Franco really didn't want to come back for 4." Major character death should not turn the audience's thoughts to contractual obligation.
Is the movie a disaster? No. Even with all these flaws, there is so much talent on hand that it's still got some very strong points. Bruce Campbell's cameo is hilarious; Brisco County Jr./Ash Williams breathes life into the movie for a couple of minutes. Topher Grace delivers a light-footed, teasing performance that made me wish they had waited until about number four to introduce Venom. As it is, Grace is there and gone, but his scenes with Maguire exude a spark that seems to come from within the two actors. The effects are spectacular, even when they're overdone. It's not the execution that's lacking here so much as a plan.
Sam, next time, when you think the script is done, give Michael Chabon a call.
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