One of the pleasures of living in the cable and satellite age is summer TV. Now, it's true that the pleasure is often muted and ephemeral, but compared to my childhood (13 re-runs of some episodes of Bonanza and Gunsmoke; later replaced by 13 re-runs of ChIPS), today is a veritable paradise. Let's dive into the lukewarm pool of summer TV, shall we?
One caveat. I don't do reality series. I just don't, at least not since those bastards at Bravo broke my heart with Being Bobby Brown. So don't expect reality to show up here.
I've already soiled myself in my glee over the return of Dr. Who. BBC America has continued the flow of Brit sci-fi/fantasy with the second (it could be third; the way they count series over there confuses me) season of Hex. As a ground-floor fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I wanted to like this show when it premiered last summer, but it was a pile of unredeemed stink. It's improved a little, but not enough to recommend it. The mishmash of poor continuity, characters who do a one-eighty every other episode, and halfhearted performances just doesn't add up to watchable, let alone compelling, TV. Who'd a thunk it?
Since I mentioned Dr. Who, let's look at Eureka, the SciFi Channel's original summer series. I like this modest little tale of a town full of eccentric scientific geniuses (genii? I wish. I like that better). What appeals to me are the performances by actors like Joe Morton, Sally Richardson, and especially Colin Ferguson. Hey, any show that offers Matt Frewer a chance to act crazy every couple of weeks is okay. The writing is breezy in that "let's not dwell on this too long or the whole house of cards might collapse" way, and the "scientific" problems and complications are the best kind of frothy sci-fi lite. Battlestar Galactica? Hell to the naw (I weep for Being Bobby Brown), but it sure beats the buttons off the Stargate franchise, at least for me.
SciFi dropped a steaming load on us with Painkiller Jane, however. Turgid writing, leaden plots, acting just slightly better than my daughter's middle-school production of Cheaper by the Dozen (the classic play, not the craptacular Steve Martin movie), and a general feeling that no one involved really gives a rat's ass--it all adds up to a big "whatever".
USA loves to bring out shows in the summer. New episodes of Monk, Psych, Dead Zone, and The 4400 are running and the network has premiered a new series, Burn Notice.
Monk is problematic for me. The show's "mysteries" are pretty weak when they're not downright lame, and the plot often stops dead for a Tony Shalhoub Emmy-nomination grabbing set-piece. So why do I watch it?
Well, my daughter loves Tony Shalhoub (she's weird), and his long career helps the show get guest stars that no other show in this budget and ratings class could hope to snag. The acting by the regular cast members is uniformly excellent (Ted Levine deserves special mention). Shalhoub is quite good as the title character, and the whole enterprise goes down smoothly at 8 PM CDT on a Friday night.
Psych, on the other hand, started out like a bad episode of Monk and went downhill from there. Too self-consciously "wacky", sloppy in its writing and continuity, the only interest the show holds for me is "Why did Dule Hill decide that this was what should follow his stint on The West Wing?"
The 4400 and The Dead Zone run back-to-back on Sunday nights, and I like one and really don't care about the other. 4400 has struggled some since its return, but the show's willingness to examine things like religious fanaticism is good. I hope that the current arc pays off, since I don't think I've seen any other show attempt to dramatize how messianic religion grows. My big gripe about the show? I keep confusing star Joel Gretsch with Colin Ferguson of Eureka.
That leaves us with Burn Notice. Jeffrey Donovan stars as Michael Westen, a spy who has been "burned", that is declared anathema by the Agency. Sort of like the Quaker practice of shunning, but with 9mm handguns. Now he has to take odd investigative/protection jobs in Miami to earn money while he tries to find out who burned him and why. Donovan has an edge and a coldness to his persona that served him well in USA's Americanization of Touching Evil and in Burn Notice. He's a handsome man, but his eyes are close-set and his upper lip curls back in a feral manner. You have no problem believing that this guy would could either kill you if you cross him, or let you walk away. It's all the same to him. His co-stars are Bruce Campbell (the Chin!!!), Sharon Gless, and Gabrielle Anwar.
Campbell is a reliable presence. His professionalism and capable comedic skills make him a joy to watch as Sam Axe (another great character name for the former Ash Williams). Gless is the wild card, both as actor and plot device; she plays Michael's mom. Sure, it sounds funny--"The hero gets a call on his cell phone in the middle of a shootout! Guess what? It's his mom!" Could work, could be lame. Gless turns it into a hoot. The role is pretty generic, but she makes diamonds out of dirt. It's a textbook example of how a committed professional can elevate standard fare.
I was surprised by Anwar. My earliest memory of her is 1993's Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken. She was also in Abel Ferrara's Body Snatchers and Scent of a Woman (hooh-ah). She's 37 now and she looks it. I don't mean that in a bad way; simply that she looks like a beautiful adult woman, not someone pretending to be 22. Her character is Fiona, ex-IRA and also ex-love of Michael's. Anwar plays her dry and competent and a perfect foil for Donovan. I have to say that I'm enjoying Burn Notice.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
Well Played, Sir. Well Played.
The family traveled to the nearest multiplex to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The Potter movies are an interesting case. The first two, directed by Chris Columbus, were literal, Cliff's Notes versions of the books, fodder produced to cash in on the phenomenally popular books. They had the gloss and plasticity of Hollywood "feel good/family" blockbusters, but the first one was palatable and it was great to see so many outstanding British thespians involved and giving their all (Why are great British actors, like Maggie Smith and Alan Rickman, able to do material like Potter straightforwardly, without the winking/nudge-nudge to which Americans are so prone?).
The third film, Prisoner of Azkaban, was the watershed moment. The books were getting longer and more complex. The success of the first two books had given J.K.Rowling the ability to tell her story at any length she wanted. Would it be possible to adapt an 850 page book into one film? After Columbus declined to direct (a decision worthy of flowers from me), Alfonso Cuaron accepted the challenge. I was ecstatic. Most people knew Cuaron from Y Tu Mama Tambien, but I remembered his transcendent version of A Little Princess, one of the best movies of the last two decades. Cuaron's changes in color palette (the shot of Harry looking out of the clock tower as his classmates depart for a snowy Hogsmeade weekend is clock-stopping in its starkness), his relocation of Hogwarts to a bleaker, more Scottish location, and his decision to get the actors into casual dress, so that they actually looked like students, were great, but the real revelation, the real turning point for Potter as film series, was his approach to adapting the story. Whole subplots, gone. Events reordered. Quidditch toned down. Cuaron broke free from the books and, paradoxically, became more true to their spirit. The Potter books are, at their hearts, great stories. I would entertain the notion that Rowling isn't a great writer, but she's a fantastic storyteller.
Cuaron's Azkaban was the most artistic of the films, but his approach freed Mike Newell to make Goblet of Fire as the action/adventure Potter. He and screenwriter Steve Kloves streamlined the unwieldy novel even further, lopping off huge chunks of exposition and subplot. Draco Malfoy, Harry's constant antagonist in the books, was present only as comic relief. Newell sped up the plot, making the movie race where the book often meandered (which is one of the great joys of books). The film focused on one thread--the Tri-Wizard Tournament. While not as atmospheric as Azkaban, Goblet of Fire furthered the notion of the Potter films as their own works of creative imagination, not just visualizations of Rowling's prose.
David Yates is the director of Order of the Phoenix. I knew nothing of his previous work. At least new screenwriter Michael Goldenberg had the 2003 live-action adaptation of Peter Pan under his belt. There was the usual noise about casting ("Natalia Tena will be Tonks!"), but by this time the cast has grown so large and the plot so dense that the movie consists of Daniel Radcliffe and a huge number of cameo performances . Ron and Hermione are little more than supporting players. They're not really on screen much more than Cho Chang (Katie Leung), Harry's first girlfriend (By the way, if the series has compacted Harry and Cho's relationship as it seems, then the filmmakers have improved on the books). This really is Radcliffe's show.
Except for one other role.
Casting can be 90% of a movie. OotP features Rowling's one great stand-alone villain, Dolores Umbridge, a petty tyrant who hides her vicious soul behind an ostentatiously maternal facade. I'm a great believer that the hero's antagonist is as important as the hero. Dolores Umbridge must be believable, sweet, cruel, and loathsome.
Imelda Staunton was nominated for an Oscar for Vera Drake in 2004. I'm going to suggest something unthinkable to many here and say that her work in Order of the Phoenix is actually better. We love to praise grim, kitchen-sink dramas as the stuff of real acting and that movies like Phoenix are fluff that actors take to pay the bills. I've already mentioned how the cast of the Potter films give their all. One of the things I most enjoyed about OotP was the way people like Emma Thompson, Jason Isaacs, and Helena Bonham Carter attacked their fifty seconds of screen time with such brio. Alan Rickman wrings every drop from his limited screen time as Snape. If he was any drier, he'd crumble into powder.
Staunton rules, however. Umbridge's performance lifts Phoenix and, I think, pushes everyone else to bring their 'A' game.
Yates deserves much credit. The night-flight along the Thames is breathtaking. The set pieces are handled with gusto and Yates is able to keep spatial relationships straight (don't sneer at this; Michael Bay can't do it). The action isn't just disjointed visual noise; it has rhythm and perspective. Yates also handles CGI and SFX well, especially for someone whose background is TV and indie film. Many directors who are comfortable with small-scale pieces can be overwhelmed by the resources available on a big-budget production. Yates is not. He keeps a complex plot moving cleanly and keeps it understandable. I think that he has helped Harry Potter make that most difficult jump; Order of the Phoenix is a movie you can enjoy even if you haven't read the book.
The third film, Prisoner of Azkaban, was the watershed moment. The books were getting longer and more complex. The success of the first two books had given J.K.Rowling the ability to tell her story at any length she wanted. Would it be possible to adapt an 850 page book into one film? After Columbus declined to direct (a decision worthy of flowers from me), Alfonso Cuaron accepted the challenge. I was ecstatic. Most people knew Cuaron from Y Tu Mama Tambien, but I remembered his transcendent version of A Little Princess, one of the best movies of the last two decades. Cuaron's changes in color palette (the shot of Harry looking out of the clock tower as his classmates depart for a snowy Hogsmeade weekend is clock-stopping in its starkness), his relocation of Hogwarts to a bleaker, more Scottish location, and his decision to get the actors into casual dress, so that they actually looked like students, were great, but the real revelation, the real turning point for Potter as film series, was his approach to adapting the story. Whole subplots, gone. Events reordered. Quidditch toned down. Cuaron broke free from the books and, paradoxically, became more true to their spirit. The Potter books are, at their hearts, great stories. I would entertain the notion that Rowling isn't a great writer, but she's a fantastic storyteller.
Cuaron's Azkaban was the most artistic of the films, but his approach freed Mike Newell to make Goblet of Fire as the action/adventure Potter. He and screenwriter Steve Kloves streamlined the unwieldy novel even further, lopping off huge chunks of exposition and subplot. Draco Malfoy, Harry's constant antagonist in the books, was present only as comic relief. Newell sped up the plot, making the movie race where the book often meandered (which is one of the great joys of books). The film focused on one thread--the Tri-Wizard Tournament. While not as atmospheric as Azkaban, Goblet of Fire furthered the notion of the Potter films as their own works of creative imagination, not just visualizations of Rowling's prose.
David Yates is the director of Order of the Phoenix. I knew nothing of his previous work. At least new screenwriter Michael Goldenberg had the 2003 live-action adaptation of Peter Pan under his belt. There was the usual noise about casting ("Natalia Tena will be Tonks!"), but by this time the cast has grown so large and the plot so dense that the movie consists of Daniel Radcliffe and a huge number of cameo performances . Ron and Hermione are little more than supporting players. They're not really on screen much more than Cho Chang (Katie Leung), Harry's first girlfriend (By the way, if the series has compacted Harry and Cho's relationship as it seems, then the filmmakers have improved on the books). This really is Radcliffe's show.
Except for one other role.
Casting can be 90% of a movie. OotP features Rowling's one great stand-alone villain, Dolores Umbridge, a petty tyrant who hides her vicious soul behind an ostentatiously maternal facade. I'm a great believer that the hero's antagonist is as important as the hero. Dolores Umbridge must be believable, sweet, cruel, and loathsome.
Imelda Staunton was nominated for an Oscar for Vera Drake in 2004. I'm going to suggest something unthinkable to many here and say that her work in Order of the Phoenix is actually better. We love to praise grim, kitchen-sink dramas as the stuff of real acting and that movies like Phoenix are fluff that actors take to pay the bills. I've already mentioned how the cast of the Potter films give their all. One of the things I most enjoyed about OotP was the way people like Emma Thompson, Jason Isaacs, and Helena Bonham Carter attacked their fifty seconds of screen time with such brio. Alan Rickman wrings every drop from his limited screen time as Snape. If he was any drier, he'd crumble into powder.
Staunton rules, however. Umbridge's performance lifts Phoenix and, I think, pushes everyone else to bring their 'A' game.
Yates deserves much credit. The night-flight along the Thames is breathtaking. The set pieces are handled with gusto and Yates is able to keep spatial relationships straight (don't sneer at this; Michael Bay can't do it). The action isn't just disjointed visual noise; it has rhythm and perspective. Yates also handles CGI and SFX well, especially for someone whose background is TV and indie film. Many directors who are comfortable with small-scale pieces can be overwhelmed by the resources available on a big-budget production. Yates is not. He keeps a complex plot moving cleanly and keeps it understandable. I think that he has helped Harry Potter make that most difficult jump; Order of the Phoenix is a movie you can enjoy even if you haven't read the book.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Once
Once is a movie that walks a very thin, very taut, and very treacherous tightrope. It's the cinematic equivalent of the bridge scene in Henri-Georges Clouzot's Wages of Fear. Oh, who am I kidding? That scene itself is cinema, so how could something else be its cinematic equivalent? Besides, Wages of Fear is a taut, lean almost-noir and Once is... well, it's not.
I stand by the tightrope remark, though. You may have seen trailers for Once. Do not believe them. The marketing makes it seem like a conventional love story, but it is so much more than that. They make the movie seem like a romance driven by music. It's really about music raised to the level of romance. That's why it's such a balancing act. If all the elements aren't handled with skill and finesse, the whole enterprise could collapse into something maudlin and ugly to behold.
It doesn't. Once is the story of Guy (Glen Hansard) and Girl (Marketa Irglova). He's a vacuum repairman/songwriter/busker and she's an immigrant from the Czech Republic who hears him and strikes up a conversation. He's writing plaintive songs about a girl who left him and she's alone in Dublin with her mother and toddler daughter. The only names they have are Guy and Girl, and her attempt to get her vacuum repaired leads to a lunch-time collaboration at a music store. You see, she cannot afford a piano of her own, so the store owner lets her play at lunch. Guy and Girl are on the same page musically from the downbeat.
At this juncture it seems that Once is about to spiral into conventional romantic territory, but it turns into something much subtler and harder to depict. The two leads connect so completely on a musical level that Guy keeps thinking it's love, but Girl is more practical and hard-headed. Really, after the movie is over, you can see that Guy is something of a dreamer and a sap. He needs the kick in the ass that Girl gives him, first to go to London and reconnect with the old girlfriend and then to record his songs in order to shop them for a record deal. Writer/director John Carney navigates skilfully around possible pitfalls. Hansard (who leads the Irish band the Frames and was in 1991's The Commitments) and Irglova are both honest actors and the fact that they actually write and perform their own music makes the act of creation palpable. The long central sequence of recording Guy's songs could be the spot where the movie stalls out, but instead it really captures the feel of people going for something that they need, driven past fatigue by their love of, the necessity of making music. Carney moves so surely and swiftly through his story that you barely notice that Hansard must be twenty years older than Irglova, but maybe that's the point. Maybe Carney wants to say that if you connect deeply enough with another person on any level, then differences like age drop away. I really liked the way that the almost mystical connection the two characters share over music doesn't become a cure-all and romantic balm. If it did the movie would be sentimental treacle.
I have performed music and drama for over thirty years now. I have found that rapport in the musical arena doesn't mean that you connect with someone in any other area. One guy with whom I have an almost telepathic stage relationship drives me insane in every other way. Another fellow, a dear friend and musician, is the guy with whom I go to the movies and have long, coffee-fueled talks and listening sessions. As much as we both love music, we don't have that connection when we play together. Things have to be spelled out in much more detail, but he's a better friend.
Once revolves around that conundrum; that someone who perfectly relates to the deepest, most personal part of ourselves isn't necessarily our soulmate. The ending is perfect; really it's the only ending that wouldn't feel like a betrayal. I walked out of the theater feeling good, inspired and alive. I think you should definitely see Once.
I stand by the tightrope remark, though. You may have seen trailers for Once. Do not believe them. The marketing makes it seem like a conventional love story, but it is so much more than that. They make the movie seem like a romance driven by music. It's really about music raised to the level of romance. That's why it's such a balancing act. If all the elements aren't handled with skill and finesse, the whole enterprise could collapse into something maudlin and ugly to behold.
It doesn't. Once is the story of Guy (Glen Hansard) and Girl (Marketa Irglova). He's a vacuum repairman/songwriter/busker and she's an immigrant from the Czech Republic who hears him and strikes up a conversation. He's writing plaintive songs about a girl who left him and she's alone in Dublin with her mother and toddler daughter. The only names they have are Guy and Girl, and her attempt to get her vacuum repaired leads to a lunch-time collaboration at a music store. You see, she cannot afford a piano of her own, so the store owner lets her play at lunch. Guy and Girl are on the same page musically from the downbeat.
At this juncture it seems that Once is about to spiral into conventional romantic territory, but it turns into something much subtler and harder to depict. The two leads connect so completely on a musical level that Guy keeps thinking it's love, but Girl is more practical and hard-headed. Really, after the movie is over, you can see that Guy is something of a dreamer and a sap. He needs the kick in the ass that Girl gives him, first to go to London and reconnect with the old girlfriend and then to record his songs in order to shop them for a record deal. Writer/director John Carney navigates skilfully around possible pitfalls. Hansard (who leads the Irish band the Frames and was in 1991's The Commitments) and Irglova are both honest actors and the fact that they actually write and perform their own music makes the act of creation palpable. The long central sequence of recording Guy's songs could be the spot where the movie stalls out, but instead it really captures the feel of people going for something that they need, driven past fatigue by their love of, the necessity of making music. Carney moves so surely and swiftly through his story that you barely notice that Hansard must be twenty years older than Irglova, but maybe that's the point. Maybe Carney wants to say that if you connect deeply enough with another person on any level, then differences like age drop away. I really liked the way that the almost mystical connection the two characters share over music doesn't become a cure-all and romantic balm. If it did the movie would be sentimental treacle.
I have performed music and drama for over thirty years now. I have found that rapport in the musical arena doesn't mean that you connect with someone in any other area. One guy with whom I have an almost telepathic stage relationship drives me insane in every other way. Another fellow, a dear friend and musician, is the guy with whom I go to the movies and have long, coffee-fueled talks and listening sessions. As much as we both love music, we don't have that connection when we play together. Things have to be spelled out in much more detail, but he's a better friend.
Once revolves around that conundrum; that someone who perfectly relates to the deepest, most personal part of ourselves isn't necessarily our soulmate. The ending is perfect; really it's the only ending that wouldn't feel like a betrayal. I walked out of the theater feeling good, inspired and alive. I think you should definitely see Once.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Monday, July 9, 2007
"...I think sometimes you need somebody to stop you."
He's back!!! Dr. Who is back.
Now, for a full consideration of all things Who, you should really zip over to Matt Zoller Sietz's blog. Ross Ruediger does a bang-up job of illuminating and appreciating the Doctor's adventures, and at a length I cannot hope to match. That said, how cool is it that the Doctor is back!
Season three kicked off with "The Runaway Bride." Like "The Christmas Invasion", it's a stand-alone aired on Christmas in Great Britain. It's neither season two nor season three, but a bridge between the two. It begins where "Doomsday" ended--the Doctor open-mouthed, tears on his cheeks, turning to find a woman (Catherine Tait) in a wedding dress standing in the middle of the TARDIS. Her name is Donna and she has disappeared from her wedding and materialized in front of the Doctor. According to the Doctor, this is impossible--for a guy who is 900 years old and travels across space and time, he says that a lot.
"TRB" is a rather special Dr. Who. For one thing, it's a full-on, slam-bang action piece. The stellar ratings of the new episodes must have shaken down some money from the BBC tree, because the effects and set pieces are altogether greater than anything the series has attempted before. The chase down the freeway (the TARDIS flying alongside a speeding taxi) not only allows us to see the TARDIS in motion, but it also shows us something heretofore unseen. We've always heard that the TARDIS is "bigger on the inside", but this episode lets us see it, and it's very effective.
We also see one of the creepiest villains that DW has ever shown us, the Empress of Racnoss, a giant spider/centaur. She's a classic villain portrayed by Sarah Parish, who starred with David Tennant in Blackpool. It's also good to see Don Gilet from 55 Degrees North. I admit it; I'm a whore for BBC America.
One of the real strong points of the new Dr. is the way it hides a big point inside the plot. That big moment comes in "TRB" when the Doctor finally vanquishes the Racnoss in particularly final and effective manner. Donna is horrified by his cold and somewhat cruel demeanor; she even shouts at him to stop. That leads to her last lines to him, after she has turned down his offer to be a Companion (about time somebody turned it down, and her reasons are funny and spot-on), the title to this post.
Tennant has really seized the role of the Doctor. His brio and emotional effervescence have made his flashes of darkness even more compelling and "TRB" offers an excellent example. As he is exterminating the Racnoss, his thin-lipped mouth compresses to a flat line framed by his beaky nose and pointy chin. Tennant's eyes go cold and he looks like a great, pitiless bird of prey. It's a chilling moment and one of the hallmarks of Russell T. Davies' interpretation of Who.
So Rose is gone, right? Not on your life. Her spirit haunts the entire episode. The Doctor's references to her as very alive, and happy, and with her family are some of the most melancholy lines you'll hear on television.
"The Runaway Bride" is not only the return of Dr. Who, it's also a perfect bridge between seasons two and three. It's Christmas airing in Britain, five month after "Doomsday", three months before "Smith and Jones", probably made that status even clearer.
"Smith and Jones" introduces Martha Jones (Freema Agyeman), the Doctor's newest Companion. Aside from the obvious fact that she's the first Companion of color, several important differences are established between her and Rose, differences which highlight Martha's uniqueness while also recalling Rose. Like "Rose", "Smith and Jones" is designed to introduce the new Companion and set up her relationship with the Doctor. It does that well enough, but like many of the best Who episodes, the A-story is functional while the cool stuff weaves around and through it. Take the Judoon, an alien race that doesn't want to take over the world. They're cops, there to do a job. It's a nice twist. Notice how the phrase "reverse it" occurs just as it did in "The Runaway Bride." Chuckle as the hospital administrator, one Mr. Stoker, is killed by the draining of his blood. See the Doctor plant a kiss on Martha (pretty hot, that)!
The real trick of "Smith and Jones" is how it outlines Martha Jones. Where Rose Tyler was a shop girl in a dead-end life, Martha is a medical student. Rose was bored with her life and family; Martha is just tired of the fighting and idiocy of her clan. Rose went with the Doctor to escape the numbing drudgery of her life. Martha, on the other hand, seems more drawn to the idea of knowledge, of discovery. She's almost mastered the human body; how cool would it be to know what else is out there? The show also confidently uses it's own mythology. Martha is very aware of the Christmas invasion and the Racnoss web-ship. She isn't staggered to discover how weird the world is. She knows it's weird; what's exciting about the Doctor is that he promises to show her the how and the why of that weirdness.
So he's back, he's really back. Good show.
Now, for a full consideration of all things Who, you should really zip over to Matt Zoller Sietz's blog. Ross Ruediger does a bang-up job of illuminating and appreciating the Doctor's adventures, and at a length I cannot hope to match. That said, how cool is it that the Doctor is back!
Season three kicked off with "The Runaway Bride." Like "The Christmas Invasion", it's a stand-alone aired on Christmas in Great Britain. It's neither season two nor season three, but a bridge between the two. It begins where "Doomsday" ended--the Doctor open-mouthed, tears on his cheeks, turning to find a woman (Catherine Tait) in a wedding dress standing in the middle of the TARDIS. Her name is Donna and she has disappeared from her wedding and materialized in front of the Doctor. According to the Doctor, this is impossible--for a guy who is 900 years old and travels across space and time, he says that a lot.
"TRB" is a rather special Dr. Who. For one thing, it's a full-on, slam-bang action piece. The stellar ratings of the new episodes must have shaken down some money from the BBC tree, because the effects and set pieces are altogether greater than anything the series has attempted before. The chase down the freeway (the TARDIS flying alongside a speeding taxi) not only allows us to see the TARDIS in motion, but it also shows us something heretofore unseen. We've always heard that the TARDIS is "bigger on the inside", but this episode lets us see it, and it's very effective.
We also see one of the creepiest villains that DW has ever shown us, the Empress of Racnoss, a giant spider/centaur. She's a classic villain portrayed by Sarah Parish, who starred with David Tennant in Blackpool. It's also good to see Don Gilet from 55 Degrees North. I admit it; I'm a whore for BBC America.
One of the real strong points of the new Dr. is the way it hides a big point inside the plot. That big moment comes in "TRB" when the Doctor finally vanquishes the Racnoss in particularly final and effective manner. Donna is horrified by his cold and somewhat cruel demeanor; she even shouts at him to stop. That leads to her last lines to him, after she has turned down his offer to be a Companion (about time somebody turned it down, and her reasons are funny and spot-on), the title to this post.
Tennant has really seized the role of the Doctor. His brio and emotional effervescence have made his flashes of darkness even more compelling and "TRB" offers an excellent example. As he is exterminating the Racnoss, his thin-lipped mouth compresses to a flat line framed by his beaky nose and pointy chin. Tennant's eyes go cold and he looks like a great, pitiless bird of prey. It's a chilling moment and one of the hallmarks of Russell T. Davies' interpretation of Who.
So Rose is gone, right? Not on your life. Her spirit haunts the entire episode. The Doctor's references to her as very alive, and happy, and with her family are some of the most melancholy lines you'll hear on television.
"The Runaway Bride" is not only the return of Dr. Who, it's also a perfect bridge between seasons two and three. It's Christmas airing in Britain, five month after "Doomsday", three months before "Smith and Jones", probably made that status even clearer.
"Smith and Jones" introduces Martha Jones (Freema Agyeman), the Doctor's newest Companion. Aside from the obvious fact that she's the first Companion of color, several important differences are established between her and Rose, differences which highlight Martha's uniqueness while also recalling Rose. Like "Rose", "Smith and Jones" is designed to introduce the new Companion and set up her relationship with the Doctor. It does that well enough, but like many of the best Who episodes, the A-story is functional while the cool stuff weaves around and through it. Take the Judoon, an alien race that doesn't want to take over the world. They're cops, there to do a job. It's a nice twist. Notice how the phrase "reverse it" occurs just as it did in "The Runaway Bride." Chuckle as the hospital administrator, one Mr. Stoker, is killed by the draining of his blood. See the Doctor plant a kiss on Martha (pretty hot, that)!
The real trick of "Smith and Jones" is how it outlines Martha Jones. Where Rose Tyler was a shop girl in a dead-end life, Martha is a medical student. Rose was bored with her life and family; Martha is just tired of the fighting and idiocy of her clan. Rose went with the Doctor to escape the numbing drudgery of her life. Martha, on the other hand, seems more drawn to the idea of knowledge, of discovery. She's almost mastered the human body; how cool would it be to know what else is out there? The show also confidently uses it's own mythology. Martha is very aware of the Christmas invasion and the Racnoss web-ship. She isn't staggered to discover how weird the world is. She knows it's weird; what's exciting about the Doctor is that he promises to show her the how and the why of that weirdness.
So he's back, he's really back. Good show.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
A Visceral Reaction
I've been watching Ice Road Truckers on the History Channel and all I have to say is--
sheeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttttt!!!
sheeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttttt!!!
Whiplash Cinema 3
Forgive my absence, but I've been literally out of the country for three weeks. I have returned just in time for another edition of Whiplash Cinema. This week's offerings are The Valet, a French comedy, and Ratatouille, a Pixar animated feature set in France.
The Valet (La Doublure), is a competent, pleasant farce about Francois Pignon(Gad Elmaleh), a valet who wants to marry Emilie (Virginie Ledoyen), the girl he has known forever. Meanwhile, Pierre Levasseur (Daniel Auteuil), big-shot CEO and husband of Christine (Kristin Scott Thomas) is having an affair with Elena (the radiant Alice Taglioni), a supermodel who believes the cad Pierre will leave Christine, who is the majority shareholder in the company he runs (ain't it always the way?), and marry his mistress. Yeah, right. Pierre convinces Francois and Elena to pose as a couple. This will prevent his wife from leaving him and taking all that tasty, tasty money with her. Hijinks ensue.
The Valet is a movie that could be transported straight to Hollywood. You could plug in John Krasinki as Francois and cast Rob Schneider as his pal Richard and you wouldn't miss a beat. The only actor without a Hollywood analogue (that I can see) is Taglioni, who is beautiful and sweet and makes Elena the most sympathetic and empathetic character in the film. It has some amusing sequences and a few chuckles, but it's nothing special. It's the sort of movie that someone who "doesn't like foreign films" can view and enjoy.
Ratatouille is the third film by Brad Bird. His first was The Iron Giant, a criminally underviewed masterwork of 2D animation. His second film did better. You may have heard of it. It was called The Incredibles.
Ratatouille is the story of Remy, a rat voiced by Paton Oswalt, who wants to be a chef. When his rat clan is evicted from their home, he makes his way to Paris and the famous Gusteau's restaurant, buuuuuuttttt he's a rat, remember?
I won't go into any plot specifics of the movie. The story is fine, but you can see the beats coming miles away. What elevates Ratatouille is the animation, the voice casting, and Bird's huge, expansive heart. This movie looks incredible; sometimes it contains more than the eye can behold. The cast does yeoman work. Oswalt, a gifted stand-up comedian and in-demand writer, is perfect as Remy, Brad Garrett and Janeane Garofalo are almost unrecognizable (and I mean that in the good way) as the ghost of Gusteau and Colette, and Brian Dennehy is spot-on as Remy's dad, but the crown must be reserved for Peter O'Toole as Anton Ego. O'Toole gives a breathtaking performance using only his resonant, perfectly pitched and intonated phrasing. It's a tour-de-force from an actor whose physical beauty has always been one of his most bracing characteristics.
Bird seems to have found his perfect working environment at Pixar. Ratatouille isn't as all-around great as The Incredibles, but that seems like nit-picking. It's very, very good, and isn't that a nice criticism to level in this day of rampant mediocrity?
The Valet (La Doublure), is a competent, pleasant farce about Francois Pignon(Gad Elmaleh), a valet who wants to marry Emilie (Virginie Ledoyen), the girl he has known forever. Meanwhile, Pierre Levasseur (Daniel Auteuil), big-shot CEO and husband of Christine (Kristin Scott Thomas) is having an affair with Elena (the radiant Alice Taglioni), a supermodel who believes the cad Pierre will leave Christine, who is the majority shareholder in the company he runs (ain't it always the way?), and marry his mistress. Yeah, right. Pierre convinces Francois and Elena to pose as a couple. This will prevent his wife from leaving him and taking all that tasty, tasty money with her. Hijinks ensue.
The Valet is a movie that could be transported straight to Hollywood. You could plug in John Krasinki as Francois and cast Rob Schneider as his pal Richard and you wouldn't miss a beat. The only actor without a Hollywood analogue (that I can see) is Taglioni, who is beautiful and sweet and makes Elena the most sympathetic and empathetic character in the film. It has some amusing sequences and a few chuckles, but it's nothing special. It's the sort of movie that someone who "doesn't like foreign films" can view and enjoy.
Ratatouille is the third film by Brad Bird. His first was The Iron Giant, a criminally underviewed masterwork of 2D animation. His second film did better. You may have heard of it. It was called The Incredibles.
Ratatouille is the story of Remy, a rat voiced by Paton Oswalt, who wants to be a chef. When his rat clan is evicted from their home, he makes his way to Paris and the famous Gusteau's restaurant, buuuuuuttttt he's a rat, remember?
I won't go into any plot specifics of the movie. The story is fine, but you can see the beats coming miles away. What elevates Ratatouille is the animation, the voice casting, and Bird's huge, expansive heart. This movie looks incredible; sometimes it contains more than the eye can behold. The cast does yeoman work. Oswalt, a gifted stand-up comedian and in-demand writer, is perfect as Remy, Brad Garrett and Janeane Garofalo are almost unrecognizable (and I mean that in the good way) as the ghost of Gusteau and Colette, and Brian Dennehy is spot-on as Remy's dad, but the crown must be reserved for Peter O'Toole as Anton Ego. O'Toole gives a breathtaking performance using only his resonant, perfectly pitched and intonated phrasing. It's a tour-de-force from an actor whose physical beauty has always been one of his most bracing characteristics.
Bird seems to have found his perfect working environment at Pixar. Ratatouille isn't as all-around great as The Incredibles, but that seems like nit-picking. It's very, very good, and isn't that a nice criticism to level in this day of rampant mediocrity?
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