tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26527689679199661832024-03-05T06:54:19.901-08:00Auto PilotTimothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-87849112850353419392015-07-10T14:23:00.000-07:002015-07-10T14:47:35.624-07:00Humans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
The most important piece of advice I've ever received, when it comes to telling story is this: Get to it. Don't futz around. Don't dwell on your themes or your social commentary. If you got a story, whip it out, let's see it. If you have a journey planned, I better be on the road by the time Episode One ends. In fact, I better have already made my first pit stop for snacks and a toilet.<br />
<br />
I will admit that <i>Humans</i> is not a perfect show, but it certainly gets to it, right quick.<br />
<br />
<i>Humans</i> is a show about robots. It is set in an alternate reality where robots are so advanced that they can perfectly copy humans. They lack original thought or sentience (some exceptions may apply), but they are capable enough to have replaced humans in most manual labor jobs. The show follows several characters over several different points in time. The main character, Anita, is a nanny-bot seeming to develop sentience. But the show doesn't linger on the mystery of whether or not she can think for very long. Instead, it jumps into the past where she and a few other robots are on the run.<br />
<br />
Escaping from linear storytelling is just about the best choice the show makes. Instead of getting bogged down in any one stage in this journey, we get the best of all worlds. We see Anita beginning to develop sentience in a domestic scenario. We see how the various members of the family react to her. But just when the show starts to circle the drain, we jump to a high stakes fugitive plot, with plenty of seedy underbelly. And, just when that gets a little pointless, we get a side story of a man who can't say goodbye to his out-of-date robot, because it is the last vestige of the old man's dead wife. And, by jumping around, the show allows the audience to ruminate on grander themes, to read between the lines.<br />
<br />
But it's not just the plot that kicks in at high gear. The show wastes no time showing off its stylistic ace in the hole: The Uncanny Valley. This is a term that is meant to demonstrate the level of discomfort people feel when presented with things that are almost, but not exactly, lifelike. Japanese androids, the animated films of Robert Zemeckis, and Jason Derulo, all fall into this category, where by being so close to human, but not quite there, we are uncomfortable with their presence. Somehow, through computer effects, practical effects, and very good acting, this show has managed to put actual people into the Uncanny Valley. So much of the tension of the domestic scenes is created by the very presence of a woman who is not quite human. And this is why the show's name - <i>Humans</i> - makes sense. The whole purpose of the show is to present the audience with a human and then tell them over and over, "this is not a human." The cognitive dissonance created makes for a perpetual unease, that occasionally boils over into quasi-terror.<br />
<br />
I should point out that <i>Humans</i> is not perfect. Oftentimes, this episode opts to explain a philosophical concept, rather than demonstrate it. A few early plot points are trampled during the mad dash to narrative gold. And the family doesn't stray too far from stereotype. But most TV families are boring. At least this one has a nightmare robot creepily cleaning the table while they eat.<br />
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<b>B+ </b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-74445363056434945032015-07-10T13:06:00.000-07:002015-07-10T13:18:36.977-07:00Mr. Robot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
What is the primary function of a first chapter? I've been thinking about this a lot. Whether it be TV, comics, books, or whatever kind of story you are telling, what must your introduction accomplish, to be successful? I've read a lot of ideas on the subject. I've heard the first chapter's function is to bring the audience into the world, introduce the characters and themes, or establish the story's hook. But for every proposed purpose, there is a counter example. There is only one function that every good Chapter One must accomplish, from which all other qualities derive. It is this: Chapter One must make you want to read/watch Chapter Two.<br />
<br />
I lay all this out because, while <i>Mr. Robot</i> has many merits, the pilot doesn't make me want to watch Episode Two. And that's a shame because this is a good episode.<br />
<br />
<i>Mr. Robot</i> is a show that is not actually about a robot. It's about a young man named Elliot (Rami Malek) with exceptional computer skills and very poor personal skills. Elliot is a cyber security specialist by day and a hacker vigilante by night. He finds people who he suspects of being wicked in some way, invades their cyber life and eventually either blackmails them or just turns them in to the authorities. He also clearly has a host of mental disabilities including, but not limited to, Social Anxiety, Delusions, Autism, and Depression. He then meets the eponymous "Mr. Robot" who is actually just Christian Slater. "Mr. Robot" brings Elliot into a ragtag group of hackers bent on crushing the world's largest corporate conglomerate, which is actually called Evil Corp (not kidding). Elliot agrees to take on the fight because of course he would, being that he is a disenfranchised hacker, and in the end, the battle begins.<br />
<br />
That's about it. The good guys and bad guys are established. The world is established - a deeply subjective world, as it seems we are seeing it through the eyes of our delusional hero. And the hook - the most accurate portrayal of computer hacking to ever grace the small screen - is thoroughly established.<br />
<br />
But there are fundamental cracks in all these ideas that undermine the exceptional tone and thoughtfulness of this episode. As for the characters, Malek is a gem who manages to thoroughly captivate us from the second he appears on screen. But Slater is not really the best foil. He's supposed to be a charismatic leader, but he comes across as smarmy, and little else.<br />
<br />
The idea of a world seen through the eyes of a conspiracy nut is interesting, but also really boring. The show is chock full of tirades against the modern world that lack the eloquence and passion of say, <i>Do the Right Thing</i> or <i>The Social Network</i>. These tirades wind up feeling more like a checklist of things young disenfranchised people might hate.<br />
<br />
And then there's the hook: the hacking. I am pleased that we've moved beyond the game of Snood that used to pass for hacking in fiction, but this show still fumbles trying to find how best to mine drama from computer hacking. One scene in particular in <i>Mr. Robot</i> puts Elliot in a server room, frantically trying to switch to a backup server before the primary cuts out. This scene is punctuated with lines of code and a blinking circle. No amount of dramatic music is ever going to make this scene anything but a guy on a laptop typing while a circle on a monitor blinks. It's just not very dramatic. No one's life is in danger. The stakes are abstract, ethereal. Other scenes use hacking more effectively, as a way to search and snoop. A fact-finding scene, or even a world-establishing scene. But with most of the high points of the story being computer related, the show winds up stuck with limited stakes. I'm not sure what will happen if our hero fails, and I'm not sure I care.<br />
<br />
It should be mentioned that this is a USA show, and it is a massive step in a new direction for the blue skies network. The show is brooding and thoughtful in a way that's not entirely annoying. There is lots of sex and drugs and other things that would upset people looking for reruns of <i>Burn Notice</i>. But in other ways, the show stays true to its USA roots. Slater at one point says that the best way to take down Evil Corp is one executive at a time, outlining the show's procedural hook. Every episode we'll be taking down another Wall Street villain. It's pure fantasy, and I'm not sure if the show is willing to engage with the realities of what they are doing. I doubt we'll ever get a shot of the mean executive they framed, in prison, weeping, alone in the dark, with only the fading memories of his children's faces to keep him comfort.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure how to give a letter grade to this episode as it was very entertaining, yet I doubt I'll ever watch Episode Two. It failed as a pilot, but it succeeded as a brief venture into the world of cyber warfare and crushing loneliness.<br />
<br />
I'll give it a <b>B</b>.Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-47040281160808195952015-04-12T14:02:00.000-07:002015-04-12T14:17:49.509-07:00American Odyssey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Before I get into this review, I must mention that Anna Friel makes any chance of a neutral, objective review completely hopeless. When I see her face, my critical brain shuts off. It's not that she's sexy or provocative. She's attractive, in a gravitational sense. She absorbs. She captivates. She is the jailer of my solitary focus. I am not watching a TV show when she appears on screen. I am eating a feast.<br />
<br />
So, today, I'll be doing my best to review the parts of this pilot that do not feature Anna Friel. <i>American Odyssey</i> has several interweaving plot lines having to do with terrorism, business, information, all glossed over with a heavy coat of conspiracy. When an American Special Forces team find and kill a famous terrorist leader, they happen upon some information that seriously incriminates a U.S. company. They are promptly wiped out by a private military outfit. All except the Special Forces translator, played by Friel, who then attempts to make her way home in a hostile land. Along the way, she makes expressions with her face that make me feel like my insides are turning into warm tea...<br />
<br />
Anyway, across the globe, the show's other, less delirium-inducing characters are a collection of lame stereotypes. A bumbling nerd hacker who lives with his mom. A rich Lawyer struggling with his conscience. An Occupy Wall Street protester in a fashionable hat who talks like a protester who has been asleep since 1969. I don't like any of these characters very much. And what's troubling is that the show doesn't seem to like them much either. When the Occupy Wall Street kid comes home with a girl who says she's a reporter for <i>Time Magazine</i>, the show cuts to ominous shots of her looking suspicious. There's no ambiguity here. She's a fucking spy. You know it, he doesn't. This just makes him look like an idiot.<br />
<br />
By the end of the episode, the writers spill the beans on the whole conspiracy. You know who the bad guys are and why they are doing what they are doing. There's no mystery any more and <i>there are eight more episodes</i>.<br />
<br />
The filmmakers behind this episode are crafting a reverse magic trick, where you see all the strings and mirrors, and the characters in the show play the confused audience. But, much like standing back stage during a magic show, it's not very entertaining.<br />
<br />
All in all, I can't say this is a good show. I can say, for sure, that I will watch every episode. Because they have not yet invented drugs as powerful as watching Anna Friel act.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>C-</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-51050176317850040742015-04-10T15:40:00.003-07:002015-04-11T12:13:54.320-07:00Daredevil<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
A lot of people nowadays forget that most of Shakespeare's plays - nearly all of the great ones - were adaptations. He had little interest in making his own stories from scratch. He would take old legends, old poems, old historical records, and he would insert two things: beauty and ambiguity. Take the story of Amleth, a classic story of royal betrayal and revenge that was then retold by Shakespeare as 'Hamlet,' a story of introspection and inaction. The writing is so stunningly effective, it is over-quoted, four hundred years later. Now, all of this is not to say that <i>Daredevil</i> is Shakespearean in quality. It isn't. I'm simply saying that there is nothing wrong with retelling old stories. But to retell a story well, you'd better insert some beauty and some ambiguity.<br />
<br />
So we arrive at <i>Daredevil</i>, another phase in Marvel's campaign to dominate the world. It is a retelling of a comic book series that debuted in 1964 about Matt Murdock, a blind vigilante. As a child Matt is blinded by some radioactive chemical which gives him supernatural hearing and olfaction. By day he is a lawyer and by night a crime-fighter. The first two episodes do little to establish his impetus for crime fighting (though it's not hard to guess). Instead they focus more on what happens after he decides to put on a mask. From this point, we meet the allies he makes - a new assistant for his law firm, and a street-wise nurse for his crime fighting - as well as the bad guys he will face as the show progresses - a murky establishment of criminals and business men. It's all lifted pretty faithfully from the comic. So, how does it fare as an adaptation? We'll give it the Shakespeare approach and talk about beauty and ambiguity.<br />
<br />
When it comes to beauty, the show really knocks it out of the park. I was initially skeptical about <i>Daredevil</i>. It was being pitched as "gritty" which, these days, means "monochromatic and humorless." And I didn't think I could stand to watch a 13-episode series with the color pallet of a high school cafeteria. Luckily, the show has a lot more to offer in terms of visuals. For example:<br />
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<br />
In <i>Daredevil</i>, windows tell the story. Scenes are usually set in front of large windows. These windows tell you something about the character standing before them. For example, Matt Murdock, the blind vigilante, never sees whats outside the window, so neither do we. He is lit by stained glass which obscures the details, but still provides the putrid yellows and sickly greens coming from outside, symbolizing the danger and horror of the city.<br />
<br />
When <i>Daredevil</i> launches into its action scenes, it aims to impress in a way that is rare for TV. The fights are frenetic and thrilling, occasionally slowing down to give you a glimpse of how a blind man fights. I was most impressed with how painful every fight looked.<br />
<br />
But, while it nails beauty, when it comes to ambiguity, the show falls short.<br />
<br />
In the second episode, Claire Temple (Rosario Dawson) is introduced as a moral observer to Matt Murdock's crime fighting ways. She is aware of his actions, and understands the positive outcomes, but she also calls into question his unethical methods. This kind of character is really important to thoughtful art, as you never want your audience to be trapped by the world view of your main character, especially when his world view is a little skewed. So she adds a dissenting voice. But, sadly, as the episode goes on, she eventually puts her morals aside and joins in on torturing a bad guy. This is a shame as she could have infused the episode with a lot of ethical complexity.<br />
<br />
Matt Murdock is perfect as an ambiguous super hero. Throughout the show, the bad guys aren't always street thugs. Some of them are cops, or businessmen in suits. But, like lady justice, Murdock is blind, judging you for your actions only. Sadly, the show doesn't fully capitalize on this. None of the cops in the show are actually bad. They are either crooks pretending to be cops, or a cop forced to do bad stuff to save someone else.<br />
<br />
In spite of its shortcomings, <i>Daredevil</i> is ambitious in a way that other Marvel shows aren't. While Captain America fights for the fate of the world, Matt Murdock is knocking out a fat guy in a recliner. <i>Daredevil</i> knows there are aliens and gods fighting above us, but <i>Daredevil</i> doesn't care. It may not be Hamlet, but above all else: it is true to itself.<br />
<br />
<b>A-</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-84503425322690533902015-03-09T12:43:00.000-07:002015-03-09T12:52:04.666-07:00The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
For me, hell is being trapped in a sitcom. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I rattle the bars of my cage, <i>nothing will</i> <i>ever change. </i>It's for this reason that I think sitcoms have become largely pessimistic over the last few decades. Back in the 1950s, the American Dream was one of routine. Get a job, get a family, never advance or age, just work, and impart parental advice. A whole host of shows followed on this wave. Sitcom America was a place where everyone was happy, no one ever learned from their mistakes and nothing ever changed. But, after decades of <i>Father Knows Best</i> and<i> Leave it to Beaver</i>, American audiences finally caught on. The American Dream was... creepy. And rather than upend this comedy format they'd become so attached to, American TV writers began subtly poking holes in the sitcom standard. Now, no one learned from their mistakes, nothing changed, and life was a little sad.<br />
<br />
These days, life is very sad if you are a sitcom character. Whether you are trapped at a community college forever, or navigating being a depressed single dad, sitcoms are about a time in your life that you are happy to recount to others, but are glad you are not experiencing anymore. Which is why <i>The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt</i> is kind of amazing.<br />
<br />
Tina Fey and Robert Carlock's new Netflix sitcom is the most optimistic show I have seen in years. It is about a cult survivor who suddenly decides to move to New York City with nothing but a middle school education and a supernaturally positive attitude. It could be a horribly depressing kind of show. A show where the naive, broken girl, is slowly crushed by the real world. But that's not the case. This is a show about putting your life together. About diving into the deep end to learn how to swim. Unlike most sitcoms, <i>The Unbrekable Kimmy Schmidt,</i> is about the most important year in Kimmy's life. It's exciting, if a bit overwhelming.<br />
<br />
Ellie Kemper is amazing. With a kaleidoscope smile, impressive physical momentum, and endless double-edged comebacks, she makes naivete look cool. And the supporting cast is a blast. Jane Krakowski is basically cut and pasted from <i>30 Rock</i>, which is in no way a bad thing, as Tina Fey loves writing about desperate women entirely out of touch with reality. Carol Kane is an utterly terrific, under-the-radar comedian. She's relegated mostly to brief exchanges on a Brooklyn stoop, which is perfect for her kind of humor. Tituss Burgess is doing his fabulous thing, which is fine, I guess. I see how his character fits into Kimmy's life, but his plot lines on their own are fairly weak.<br />
<br />
On the whole, I can't recommend this show enough. It's optimistic without being bland. It's heartwarming without being cloying. It's shockingly dark at times without ever being cynical. And even when the jokes aren't landing as hard as they could, I'm pretty sure watching Ellie Kemper smile will add years to your life.<br />
<br />
A-Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-16904214904695667492015-02-24T13:02:00.001-08:002015-02-24T13:50:45.319-08:00In Defense of the Oscars<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m taking a break from format to talk about something that’s
important to me: The Oscars. However, I do not plan on defending the tedious, frequently
insulting, sometimes blissfully absurd Oscar ceremony that occurred last Sunday.
I’m here to defend the Oscars as an institution not as a three-hour snooze
fest. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Why defend the Oscars?</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Academy gets a lot of hate. This is probably a reaction
to the amount of love the Academy showers itself with. It’s hard not to lash
out at a group so notorious for self-congratulation, but I think a lot of the flak the Academy gets is due to a fundamental lack of understanding in what
purpose the Academy actually serves. They are not here to pick the best picture
of the year. They are here to aid the process of natural selection.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>What does film making have to do with natural selection?</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To understand the
Academy Awards and what they do, you should look at filmmaking as a species
that is evolving. Evolution happens due to natural selection. Some external
force must shape a population for it to change. This force enacts change by
killing off individuals unsuited for survival and rewarding the stronger
individuals by allowing them to reproduce. Filmmaking works in a similar way.
You begin with a big pile of scripts, most of which will not come to fruition.
When a script finally does become a movie, it must “perform” at the box office.
This performance is objectively qualified via revenue. If the film is
successful at the box office, other films will attempt to copy the original
film in some way.<br />
<br />
This is how films reproduce. Instead of a mom giving birth to
a child, <i>Twilight</i> gives birth to a sequel, but more indirectly, also gives
birth to <i>The Hunger Games</i>. Not a sequel, but clearly a movie trying out the
same formula in the hope of drawing an audience. In this way we can see certain
films birthing dozens of other films, sometimes entire genres (<i>Dirty Harry</i>, <i>The
Matrix</i>, <i>It Happened One Night</i>). These are biologically speaking, very “fit”
members of their species. Other films such as <i>John Carter</i> or <i>The Lone Ranger</i>
are weak members of the film species. They perform poorly and thus they do not
get to reproduce. There will be no <i>Lone Ranger</i> sequel and Jerry Bruckheimer
will have a hard time getting his hands on another 150 million dollar budget.<br />
<br />
You could look at whole genres as genes that were adaptive for a while but then
quickly lost their competitive edge. For example, back in the old days, Westerns were everywhere. They were the most popular genre for men in the
United States. But after a while, just like in evolution, the landscape
changed, and The Western couldn’t compete with the Cop Drama. And, soon enough,
movies that spawned from John Ford and Sergio Leone began dying loudly at the
box office. You could see Lone Ranger as the last of its species, wiped out by
natural selection. You could also see it as a terrible film, but that’s beside
the point.<br />
<br />
Much like in
evolution, there is no higher order in the film world.
There is only the struggle, which as a whole produces a cohesive form, but individually, is a disorganized, desperate fight for survival.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>So where do the Oscars fit in to all of this? </b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In natural selection, what you sometimes get is a species
developing two separate ways to survive and reproduce, both evolving
simultaneously. Take, for example, the Giant Cuttlefish. For a male Giant Cuttlefish
to mate, it must find a female and fight off the other males, thus ensuring the
strength and ferocity of the species’ males. But, there are also smaller male
Giant Cuttlefish, who have discovered another strategy, whereby they pretend to
be a female. The males like to collect as many females as they can. So the
sneaky male joins the bigger male’s harem and quietly mates with all the
ladies, right under the protective larger male. In this way, natural selection
is ensuring that the strongest <i>and</i>
the smartest Giant Cuttlefish get to reproduce.<br />
<br />
The like Giant Cuttlefish, The Academy Awards have provided an alternate way to reproduce. Our previous metric for the success of a film
was its box office performance. But if films today only copied the
formulas of high revenue films, then we wouldn’t have films by Wes Anderson or
Spike Jonze. Films that are showered with awards also spawn copies, despite
sometimes performing below average at the box office. This is because the producers making these films believe the Oscars have a value that is higher than money. The Oscars represent the respect of their peers. And thus producers will make films that may not make much money in the hunt for an Oscar. For example, look at the
film The Hurt Locker, which performed decently at the box office, but not
great. Regardless, it won all sorts of Oscars. And you could see a film like
American Sniper as a child of the Hurt Locker.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In evolutionary the Academy Awards provide “genetic diversity.” The
reason every human doesn’t look the same and the reason one Cuttlefish sneaks
while the other fights, is because the survival of a species is dependent on diversity:
multiple approaches to a single problem. If only the monetarily robust films
survived and spawned copies, then the film industry would be a depressingly one
note affair. Take a look at the top grossing films of 2011, four years ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 <i>Harry
Potter and the Deathly Hallows</i> – Part 2 <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 <i>Transformers:
Dark of the Moon</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3 <i>Pirates
of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4 <i>The Twilight
Saga: Breaking Dawn</i> – <i>Part 1</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5 <i>Mission:
Impossible – Ghost Protocol </i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6 <i>Kung Fu
Panda 2</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7 <i>Fast
Five</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8 <i>The
Hangover Part II</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
9 <i>The
Smurfs</i> <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10 <i>Cars 2</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now imagine that every film made in the year 2014 was a
copy, or a knock off of one of those films. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead, we saw Damien Chazelle’s bizarre torturous look at
music school, Wes Anderson’s pop-up-book ode to chivalry, and Richard Linklater’s
twelve-years-in-the-making, nonchalant foray in existentialism. And we saw
these not because Wes Anderson is a genius. We saw them because a producer saw
his script and thought, “This may not make much money, but it’s kind of similar
to all those arty movies that win Oscars, so I’m going to make it because I
would like a golden statue of a naked man.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Birdman was kind of lousy and pretentious. Does this mean we’re
going to be seeing more lousy pretentious films?</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yes and no. <i>Birdman</i> is by no means perfect. The dialogue is on
the nose and Iñárritu, bless his heart, cannot structure a movie to save his
life. But that’s not what producers were looking at when they greenlit <i>Birdman</i>.
They were looking at its core components. It is artistically extravagant, it is
metatextual, and it invites deeper readings. These are qualities in a script
that do not make money. But they are qualities that get Oscars. And thus they
are qualities that future producers will be looking for when they greenlight
films. This may lead to a bunch of pretentious films, sure, but it could also
lead to the next gem from Charlie Kaufman. It’s hard to say. In this way, even
a terrible best picture winner is not always a bad thing. <i>Crash</i> is a bad film
by any standard, but its core components have value. Meditations on a theme,
structural creativity, discussions of race, these components (which were in no
way invented by <i>Crash</i>) have since found their way into other better films,
which may have been greenlit because of their <i>Crash</i>-ness. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not to say that the Oscars can do no wrong.
Nominating a film like <i>Avatar</i>, which has already been rewarded enough by the
box office, in no way promotes genetic diversity within the film world. And <i>consistently</i> disregarding certain genres
will eventually drive talent away from those kinds of films. But, the next time
you hear someone say, “X was robbed!” referring to a best picture nominee, ask
yourself, what were they robbed of? Did they make money at the box office? Did
they get an Oscar nomination? If so, then we’ll see more from that well, and
really you’re just complaining because a producer, who you don’t actually know,
didn’t get a naked man statue. And the next time you hear someone say, “The
Oscars don’t matter,” remind yourself of what the world would look like if
movie making was only about money.<o:p></o:p></div>
Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-64768205092192439482015-01-09T15:24:00.001-08:002015-01-09T15:35:51.213-08:00Mozart in the Jungle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPM-ecayQWMUoS6S_8ykGQHVnlRYZRGnpyNq6vhXPK1Nrv9F0XqxQW5yVzNb2mDogH87pYKCbtYe2CnHvo_4S0yJNqICjibu8yY5UMvxuGNwflMU7cy6AIItEctkAHAJ0K733U8J_tmLsc/s1600/mozartinthejungle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPM-ecayQWMUoS6S_8ykGQHVnlRYZRGnpyNq6vhXPK1Nrv9F0XqxQW5yVzNb2mDogH87pYKCbtYe2CnHvo_4S0yJNqICjibu8yY5UMvxuGNwflMU7cy6AIItEctkAHAJ0K733U8J_tmLsc/s1600/mozartinthejungle.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
It's tough writing reviews for pilots airing on Netflix or Amazon or any venue that presents you with every episode all at once. In one sense, I think a show really benefits from being able to craft a full season in one go. But, on the other hand, it means that the pilot frequently feels less like the show's mission statement and more like a first chapter. I don't see the point in reviewing a first chapter. That being said, <i>Mozart in the Jungle</i> does a lot of good work laying out the bizarre world of hardcore partying classical musicians. And it's a fun little world.<br />
<br />
Based on the book, <i>Mozart in the Jungle</i> is about the strange inner workings of the classical music scene in New York City. A lot of humor is squeezed out of the contrast between the classical and the contemporary: downing shots between rounds of an oboe vs. flute play-off.<br />
<br />
The show is written in part by Roman Coppola and Jason Shwartzman - and they bring their love of being young and understated in the big city - but their dialogue feels somehow muted in this setting. For all their musical virtuosity, the characters are a little one note. Everyone is surface level quirky, as opposed to Roman's usual deep inner quirkiness. The directing is odd. There's no consistent stylistic voice. At one point, the show slips into bizarre impressionistic visuals, at another point it uses <i>30 Rock-</i>style cutaway gags. It keeps you on your toes, for sure, but it's also distracting and makes the whole episode feel disjointed.<br />
<br />
All in all, if you like <i>Girls</i> and want something like that, but set in the New York classical music scene, you might dig this? I don't really know.<br />
<br />
<b>B</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-81609644795225587732015-01-09T15:24:00.000-08:002015-01-09T15:24:04.717-08:00Empire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
A word of advice: if you are going to remake King Lear, and set it in the world of hip hop, don't have one of your characters say, "What is this, King Lear?" It's not cute, it's lazy.<br />
<br />
So, this is basically <i>Dallas</i>, but with hip hop instead of Country. And really bad hip hop, too. Every time someone plays a track and goes, "That's nice," I wonder if this is secretly a show about deaf people. But, to be fair, Timbaland isn't going to write his best stuff for a network drama. He's got Jay-Z on the other line. So, ignoring the horrible music this show made me listen too, I walk away a little mixed.<br />
<br />
First, the good stuff: Taraj P. Henson. This woman is not messing around. She can chew the scenery and then, in a split second, become relaxed and comfortable. She sinks her teeth into the material, even if the material is paper thin. I love it that Henson makes the decision not to play her character like a madwoman, but like a woman who pretends to be mad. Being unpredictable gives her power, and she uses that power. More good stuff: addressing hip hop homophobia. This is a subject that deserves a little inspection and I appreciate the show for not pushing the gay artist into the background.<br />
<br />
Now, the bad stuff: Terrence Howard. I like the guy, but this is a phoned-in performance. He delivers every line like he's asking a stranger for directions. He has been given a rich and complicated character who could be a villain or a tragic hero, depending on the performance, but Howard just plays him like a cameo. He is almost always framed in the middle of the scene, and he's like a black hole, so utterly devoid of all content that he destroys the scene around him. More bad stuff: the writing. Every scene was so transparent. Two characters arrive at a location, explain what they want, scheme an obvious plot and then move on. At a certain point, as long as I know who's in the scene, I know exactly what will happen.<br />
<br />
One thing I can say for<i> Empire</i>'s pilot is that it's clearly holding nothing back. Sometimes, pilots for epic soapy dramas can start a little piddling, but this isn't the case for <i>Empire</i>. There's lust, betrayal, and murder, all in the first episode. But this also demonstrates <i>Empire</i>'s weakness. The show has shown its hand and there's not a whole lot to bet on.<br />
<br />
<b>B-</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-380891798507184812015-01-08T09:49:00.000-08:002015-01-08T10:01:23.291-08:00Agent Carter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
I think it's possible to appreciate the past without sliding into nostalgia. Every generation had a fresh new view of the world. I don't buy the whole "simpler times" bullshit. But I do think there were remarkable times. There is something charming in the birth of cinema, the first shaky steps we took into the visual medium, when everything was fresh and new and tying a damsel to a train track was down right inspired. This admiration for our storytelling roots is what gave us <i>Raiders of the Lost Ark</i>, every Wes Anderson film, and now, <i>Agent Carter</i>, the newest addition to Marvel's media blitzkrieg.<br />
<br />
<i>Agent Carter</i> follows the thrilling adventures of Peggy Carter, who works for a mysterious government agency in post WWII America. The fact that she is Captain America's ex-girlfriend, or that this all somehow fits into the ever-expanding Marvel cinematic universe is thankfully pushed to the background. What matters here is the thrilling adventures.<br />
<br />
The first episode features exploding orbs, lethal hitmen with removed vocal chords, shady deals at fancy balls, and sci-fi technology made from typewriters and old razors. <i>Agent Carter</i> grabs a big armful of old school pulp storytelling, slips in some modern ideas on gender, and drops it in your lap. It's a blast (sometimes literally) to watch. And it has at its core a woman with enough emotional depth to keep the whole thing grounded.<br />
<br />
If I had to pick what I liked the most about this pilot (which I'm having a very hard time doing), it would have to be Hayley Atwell's performance as the titular character. She is magnetic. And she's been given a character that makes perfect use of her blinding confidence as an actor. Carter is tough and practical, but what stands out for me is that she has no tacked-on flaws. The writers have smartly avoided giving her a run-of-the-mill weakness. She's not an asshole. She's not a mess at home. She's polite and kind, never relenting an inch in a world that is not particularly fair to single women in the work place. And she <i>should</i> be perfect. This is Captain America's girlfriend!<br />
<br />
I also have to point out how much I love this pilot's approach to sexism. If you're going to make a period TV show, it's hard not to address this unfortunate part of American culture, especially in late 1940s America, where men were re-entering the work force and displacing thousands of women. But there's a line you have to tow: you can't ignore how sexist America was, but at the same time, you've got to make a point beyond "sexism is bad." I sometimes get very bored with Mad Men after the nth scene showing me how much it sucked to be a woman in the 1960s. This show proposes a simple solution: instead of sexism being the point of the show, it is simply one more obstacle standing between Agent Carter and saving the world.<br />
<br />
<b>A</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-15686207811585463032015-01-07T12:14:00.002-08:002015-01-07T12:45:15.637-08:00Galavant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
I like Dan Fogleman for the simplest of reasons: He is funny and he rarely infuriates me. If you are looking for something funny that won't make you terribly angry, then don't bother with the rest of this review. You can go watch <i>Galavant</i> and enjoy yourself.<br />
<br />
But, if you are looking for anything deeper than a hearty chuckle and Timothy Omundson's soft shoe, then I fear you will be uniquely disappointed by <i>Galavant</i>. The story is fast paced and the songs are well written (because they're written by Alan Menken and Glenn Slater), but in the end, the show doesn't seem to have anything to say. It picks apart the cruelty of the medieval fantasy genre, but only for the purpose of a few laughs, and nothing else.<br />
<br />
There is one moment in the beginning that borders on subversive when Galavant (Joshua Sasse) comes to rescue his girlfriend Madalena (Mallory Jensen) from being married to the wicked King Richard (Timothy Omundson) and she politely declines. This is something we rarely see in fantasy: in a time rife with poverty, war, and the plague, things like wealth and security are far more important than love. And the show could have made Madalena a very relatable character, but instead, she is portrayed as a greedy shrew. Ultimately the show condemns her for wanting something other than a man.<br />
<br />
Galavant's horrible girlfriend is only one example of the many ways this show sashays to the edge of subversion before immediately backing away. And again, I must stress, this is not a condemnation of the show's production, acting, or plot. The show is functional, occasionally delightful. It's simply pointless. <i>Galavant</i> may wish it were <i>Monty Python and the Holy Grail,</i> but without a stronger effort to attack established fantasy cliches, <i>Galavant</i> will surely end up as the kind of tale that Monty Python was making fun of in the first place.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>B-</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-81831719948986760682014-12-22T13:14:00.003-08:002015-02-24T13:53:50.892-08:00The Legend of Korra Teaches Us How to Write a Good Finale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I made the whopping mistake of writing my <a href="http://autopilotreviews.blogspot.com/2014/12/episodes-you-should-have-seen-in-twenty.html">best episodes of twenty fourteen</a> list before the final episode of <i>The Legend of Korra</i> aired, which wound up being beyond satisfying. But, I have been meaning to write a little about finales, so I'm going to take this mistake and turn it into an opportunity.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>The Legend of Korra</i> gave us the best finale of the year and probably one of the best series finales I've ever seen. I'll get into why that is in a little bit. First I want to talk about bad finales and why they are so awful.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
A TV show that you regularly watch is like a friend. Because your friends, and all the other people in your life, are just a collection of stories that form an identity. And when a show is over, when the stories cease, its life is over. A series finale is sort of like a funeral. It is a celebration of the show's identity, and a wrapping up of all the stories it told. And, just like in life, it's hard to find meaningful closure. Rarely does anything wrap up with a nice tidy bow on top. And more often than not, a show wants to find more meaning in its finale than there has been in all the episodes that preceded it. Sometimes, the show simply cannot let go. It doesn't want to die, and it rages against the dying of the light, until it is a quivering husk of what it once was.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So, here are the big mistakes that finales make, as a list, because the internet gods demand lists.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. "Meant to Be"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This is where a romance that worked at the beginning of a long show - then due to complications fell apart - suddenly appears out of nowhere at the end, because the writers seemed to think that these characters were "meant to be." Poppycock. No one is meant to be. People are meant to be happy, not bound by fate to each other because their names appear in the opening credits.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2. "It Was All A Dream"</div>
<div>
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Maybe in the end it isn't all a dream but instead an analogy, or a vision, or a supernatural trek through some pan-religious purgatory. It doesn't matter. Don't make your own show's story irrelevant. Don't take all the death, the pain, the heartache, and make it all for nothing. </div>
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3. "Aren't We So Awesome"</div>
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If you love a show and you love the characters, the worst thing you can do is make some last ditch effort to remind us that all the characters are cool. We're watching the finale, which means we don't need convincing to watch the show. There's no point trying to sell us on a party we're already attending.</div>
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4. "Deus Ex Machina"</div>
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You got a problem? A big one? One that you have spent a whole season, maybe longer, trying to solve? Well luckily for you, some guy from another show has an amulet for you or some stupid shit like that and "Tadah!" problem solved. </div>
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5. "Rewards/Punishment"</div>
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This is a tricky subject, but it's an important one. When a show is over, it's over, so any message you leave us with is the last one you get. So watch out for who gets to live happily ever after and who gets punished. It doesn't matter if a character is the hero, if he kills hundreds of people and gets a happy ending, then the show is tacitly approving his behavior.</div>
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6. "And Then They All Went On To..."</div>
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A good finale leaves us wanting more, not thanking the gods that this will be the final story the show gets to tell. Which means epilogues are a tough sell. We know these characters - because we've watched them for years - so if you tell us what happens to them in the future, we are left thinking either, "Why did you mention that," or, "That would never happen." As a story teller, you take us from A to B to C. You can't just skip to Z and expect us to be on board.<br />
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Suffice it to say there are a lot of ways to mangle the last chapter of your show, even if it was damn good right up until the end.</div>
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So now we arrive at <i>The Legend of Korra</i>. (Sorry, it took a little while.) This is a perfect finale. I mean <i>perfect.</i> No contrived rekindling of old love, no frustrating epilogue, no Deus Ex Machina. The story wraps up in both an epic and intimate way, the themes become laser focused (pun intended), and, in the end, we are left wanting so much more. </div>
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What stands out most to me about the <i>Korra</i> finale is that it is all about love. It shows us the love of a father, a mother, a friend, a lover, and most importantly, an adversary. <i>The Legend of Korra</i> is unique in that villains are sympathetic. They have fears and grief and anger, and they are in need of love, just like the rest of us. So to conquer them, offer them compassion. It is a wonderful message, especially for the show's younger audience. </div>
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What <i>The Legend of Korra</i> shows us in its final moments is an iconoclastic love. It is a love that doesn't involve men. <i>Korra</i> has, for a long time, been a bastion of girl-centric epics. Over the last few seasons, the men have become increasingly irrelevant to the story. This season featured Korra's first female 'big bad,' who was a mirror image of Korra, showing us how power and ambition are a recipe for both heroes and villains. The show's finale shed the "will they, won't they?" of Mako and Korra (a man and a woman), allowing a far more satisfying relationship between Korra and Asami (both woman). The love between them is ambiguous to younger viewers but clear as day to anyone watching closely. </div>
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As the episode came to an end, I kept thinking of Patroclus and Achilles, two great heroes of the Illiad who fought side by side. History's first "Bromance." Their relationship was debatably platonic, undeniably epic, and has spawned a million copycats. Bonds formed in battle make for great drama. But it is a genre of story telling that has historically excluded women. The love between women has, for so long, been a tame domestic kind of love. It is a love that passes the time until the men come home. <i>The Legend of Korra</i> ended its fantastic run by showing that the love between women is a bond that saves the world.</div>
Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-48743309955861675512014-12-22T09:29:00.000-08:002014-12-22T09:29:50.220-08:00Episodes You Should Have Seen in Twenty FourteenReviewing TV pilots is, in some ways, a lot like evaluating a baby. It doesn't matter if he'll grow up to be Neil deGrasse Tyson, for now he's a drooling idiot who keeps trying to eat his own vomit. Pilots are often the worst episode of a show. On the other hand, sometimes a pilot is all a show has to offer and after the first episode the show just circles the drain. So I want to talk about episodes that were really damn good in 2014 that weren't pilots. Here's my list, in no particular order.<br />
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<b>The Legend of Korra - "Ultimatum"</b><br />
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<i>"As long as I'm breathing, it's not over."</i><br />
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<i>Avatar: The Last Airbender</i> was quite possibly one of the more important kids' shows of the last decade. It handled adult themes in a way that was kid friendly and yet in no way watered down. <i>The Legend of Korra</i> is an excellent companion piece to <i>Avatar, </i>but for a slightly older generation. And yet it has been shat upon by Nickelodeon, its third season getting released with no marketing, then pulled from air halfway through its run, available only via streaming on the Nick website. And it's a shame because the third season of <i>The Legend of Korra</i> is the best by far. The fourth and final season, airing currently, is not bad but pales in comparison. "Ultimatum" is a perfect specimen of what <i>Korra</i> does best. It's mostly fun and fast paced, and yet complex, highly political events underline every moment, every choice. On top of that, this episode has the best fight scenes I've seen on television ever, in my whole life. They are beautifully animated, amazingly choreographed and staged. The represent everything that animation can bring to the table with martial arts and they do so without ever forgetting about the stakes that underpin the action. I'm happy to be able to suggest many high caliber kids' shows (<i>Adventure Time, Over the Garden Wall, Bravest Warriors</i>) that parents can watch as well. But <i>The Legend of Korra</i> is the only kids' show this year that is constructing a cohesive lesson on how to view world politics. Also, girl power. So much girl power.<br />
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<b>The Good Wife - "Last Call"</b><br />
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<i>"What does it mean if there is no god? How is that any better?"</i></div>
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<i>"It's not better. It's just truer." </i></div>
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Speaking of girl power and politics... <i>The Good Wife</i>! There's nothing quite as shocking as killing a main character in a TV show. Since it is such an easy way to drum up emotion and pathos, it is frequently misused as a cheap trick to cover up poor character growth or to mine some drama out of an actor's contract dispute. Despite being a personal top ten drama for the last four years, this year, <i>The Good Wife</i> decided to kill off a main character for all the wrong reasons. And yet, from the ashes of this bad decision, the writers for <i>The Good Wife</i> created an hour of unwavering emotional free fall, the likes of which I have not seen since <i>Buffy The Vampire Slayer </i>("The Body"). What is most fascinating about "The Last Call" is that there is a very serious discussion of atheism plopped down in the middle of what is otherwise a very focused story about discovering the meaning of a dead man's last voicemail. I find that atheism is often misrepresented in TV if represented at all. Atheists in media are always either acerbic intellectuals or nihilists. Rarely do you see a woman with a family, and a job that has nothing to do with science, who simply does not believe. There is no reason, no psychological framework, for her atheism. She just has no faith. And after decades of shows dealing with matters of faith, it's nice to see the other side represented with the same emotional care.</div>
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<b>The Americans - "New Car"</b></div>
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<i>"It's nicer here, yes. It's easier. It's not better."</i></div>
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And speaking of struggles with atheism... <i>The Americans</i>! I've started pitching <i>The Americans</i> as "<i>Mad Men</i> with a plot." I don't mean to disparage <i>Mad Men</i>. Sometimes finely crafted wandering is enjoyable. But every now and then, it's nice to see a little story between all that symbolism and critique. And story is where <i>The Americans</i> is king. Each season is a mile-a-minute spy thriller, loaded with heaping doses of critique and satire. What stands out about "New Car" is just how many themes it juggles. American commercialism, patriotism, the futility of vengeance, all culminating with the tearful breakdown of a child who was caught sneaking into the neighbor's house to play video games. And it's moment's like this, where the stakes are relatively low and the setting is intimate that the show strikes its hardest. Because no battle, no global event will ever hit as close to home as... well... home. </div>
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<b>Game of Thrones - "The Mountain and the Viper"</b></div>
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<i>"People die at their dinner tables. They die in their beds. They die squatting over their chamber pots. Everybody dies sooner or later."</i></div>
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And speaking of the futility of vengeance... <i>Game of Thrones</i>! Where everybody dies and nothing has any meaning. This episode is <i>Game of Thrones</i> at its finest. The fight has edge-of-your-seat tension, breathtaking choreography and nightmare-inducing special effects. The writing is crisp, the meanings, layered. And while it ends with a woman shrieking in horror, it also features one of the show's most triumphant moments. Sansa Stark, after seasons of nonstop torture, emerges from the castle, clad in black feathers, powerful, magnificent. It won't last, because nothing ever does. But for a moment, <i>Game of Thrones</i> has given us the kind of triumph you can't manufacture with all the special effects in the world. It is the triumph you earn. The victory you claim by passing through the flames.</div>
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<b>Rick and Morty - "Rixty Minutes"</b></div>
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<i>"Nobody exists on purpose. Nobody belongs anywhere. Everybody's going to die. Come watch TV."</i></div>
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And speaking of everybody dying and nothing having any meaning... <i>Rick and Morty</i>! This is the funniest half hour produced in 2014, without a doubt. No contest. It takes what is essentially a throwaway sitcom B plot and turns it into a mission statement. And it couldn't have come at a better time. 2014 was a decidedly unfunny year. Robin Williams passed away, Bill Cosby probably raped a lot of women. It was hard to find new things to laugh at without feeling bad about yourself. But not<i> Rick and Morty</i>. <i>Rick and Morty</i> laughed at all the bad stuff and said, "Not only is it OK to laugh, it is the only thing you can do." Not since Douglas Adams has a show mined this much humor out of destroying all life on earth. And I can't think of a time in the history of television when nihilism has kept a family together. Life sucks, I know. Wubalubadubdub! </div>
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<b>True Detective - "Who Goes There"</b><br />
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<i>"Enough with the self-improvement-penance-hand-wringing shit. Let's go to work."</i></div>
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And speaking of nihilism... <i>True Detective</i>! I think I loved <i>True Detective</i> a lot less than everyone else. It's on my top ten list, so obviously I loved it, just not as much as the guy sitting next to me. The main complaint I have with the season is that it isn't as profound as it pretends to be. But not being profound is not a bad thing. If you aren't telling us a story about life, but instead just telling us a story about two guys and a case, it frees you up in a lot of ways. So, why do I love this episode so much? Rust says it all when he says, "Let's go to work." This is the finest hour of <i>True Detective.</i> There is no pontificating, no discussions of emotional turmoil. Instead, Rust and Marty go off book and get into some serious shit. And boy is it thrilling. Everyone and their mother knows about the six-minute continuous take, but what is more interesting to me is the six minutes of no scripted dialogue in what is otherwise such a talky show. It is just action, tension, spectacle, and dread. And in the end, what makes "Who Goes There" such a good episode of television is that all that talk of "touching evil" is just talk. Finally, here, we see the lengths Rust is willing to go to for the truth, for his obsession. It is hypnotizing and deeply troubling. </div>
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<b>Hannibal - "Tome-wan"</b></div>
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<i>"Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude."</i></div>
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And speaking of hypnotizing and deeply troubling... <i>Hannibal</i>! I honestly cannot get over how beautiful this show is. It is unthinkably pretty. And it has the greatest score on television - all sloshing water and bending pipes with the occasional brush of piano strings, haunting and murky. Season one of <i>Hannibal</i> was a descent into madness, while season two is a game of cat and mouse between Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. Of course, you're not ever sure who is the cat. Unfortunately, the season finale wraps up this battle of wills in a very stupid and clunky way, but right before the final episode came "Tome-wan," a moment of stillness and camaraderie between Will and Hannibal before it ends. <i>Hannibal</i> is very much like an epic poem of old, prone to hyperbole and meandering philosophical musings, filled with heroes, gods, and the Devil himself. But like all good epic poems, it makes a world of strange beauty that you cannot help but tumble into.</div>
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<b>Fargo - "A Fox, A Cabbage, And a Cage"</b></div>
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<i>"I'd call it animal except animals only kill for food."</i></div>
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And speaking of the Devil... <i>Fargo</i>! <i>Fargo</i> could have easily wound up the ugly stepchild of one of the greatest movies ever made, but instead it treated its pedigree as a challenge and rose to the occasion, becoming one of the greatest miniseries of all time and my favorite show of 2014. How it does this is honestly beyond me. The twists and turns, the humor and horror, all make a little clockwork universe too complex and tightly wound for me to ever really wrap my head around. At first I thought it was impressive that Noah Hawley wrote every episode, but after watching the whole season, I can say that no committee could have ever made that show. It is a singular creative vision, and it is a bold one. Though I can't ignore the fact that Noah Hawley had help from some of the year's most brilliant performances. Allison Tolman is a gem, Joey King is possibly the best child actor out there right now, and Martin Freeman deconstructs everything that has made him lovable in a long career of being lovable. Eventually, Martin becomes a villain so malevolent he dwarfs even Billy Bob, who is <i>the actual Devil.</i><br />
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The reason I chose<i> Fargo</i>'s penultimate episode is, like the show's very inception, it takes what seems like a bad idea on paper, and makes it brilliant in actualization. Shows rarely come back from inserting a "one year later" in the middle of a season. Hell, most shows rarely come back from inserting anything more than a summer break. But <i>Fargo</i> does exactly that. It skips ahead a year. Lots of things change, cases close, people move on, and more importantly, the Devil is now a dentist. Turning your biblically evil bad guy into a dentist may be the single greatest story decisions I've ever seen in television. And the Billy Bob really commits to his character reassignment, constructing a new look, a new demeanor, and a new catchphrase. Aces!</div>
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<b>The Honourable Woman - "The Paring Knife"</b><br />
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<i>"Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that in a room full of pussies, I'm the only one with a vagina</i><i>."</i></div>
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Speaking of a miniseries with a single bold creative vision... <i>The Honourable Woman</i>! Hugo Blick's strange, dreamy, chronologically-impaired spy thriller. This show, despite having star power from Maggie Gyllenhaal, managed to slip right under the pop culture radar, which surprises me since it is very similar to <i>True Detective</i>. One mysterious (spy thriller instead of serial murder), two complicated leads (women instead of men), lots of philosophical musing (about politics instead of nihilism), and the same writer and director for every episode (except in this case Hugo Blick is both the writer and the director). Just take a moment to appreciate this accomplishment: a single man directed and wrote what is basically a six-hour film. The show is about an investigation into the very strange life of Nessa Stien (Gyllenhaal) as she tries, in her own way, to bring peace to Israel and Palestine. It's an unwavering parable, and over time Nessa becomes less and less a character and more and more the embodiment of naivety and goodness. So, predictably, she is quite thoroughly punished. The show manages to discuss politics without ever becoming condescending or preachy. It makes some rather bold assertions, not all of which I agree with, but all well thought out. The reason I chose "The Paring Knife" is because it is the final episode, so to see it, you must have watched every episode preceding it. Unlike <i>Fargo</i> or <i>True Detective</i>, the show does not have peaks and valleys, higher and lower quality episodes. The <i>Honourable Woman</i> is a straight shot, a rocket to the finish line. It's a new and fascinating way to make a show.<br />
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<b>Last Week Tonight With John Oliver - "Episode 18"</b><br />
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<i>"Currently, the biggest scholarship program exclusively for women in America requires you to be unmarried with a mint condition uterus and also rewards working knowledge of buttock adhesive technology."</i><br />
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Speaking of bold political assertions... <i>Last Week Tonight</i>! This show seemed, at first to be a knock-off <i>Daily Show</i> but missing the daily aspect. Of course, what seemed at first a disadvantage wound up being far from it. Giving John Oliver and his team a week to fully investigate every story meant that <i>Last Week Tonight</i> could do some honest investigative journalism into subjects not usually considered newsworthy - but very much lampoon-worthy. I respect what Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are doing, but they are mostly just sitting on the sidelines making fun of bad journalists. Meanwhile, John Oliver is actually in the game, reporting on real issues that no one seems to care about but everyone should. Interestingly enough, the episode I picked criticizes the US embargo of Cuba which wound up being rather prescient as Obama is now discussing lifting that embargo.<br />
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So there you have it people - my favorite episodes in a banner year for good episodes. Strangely, while writing this I discovered an interesting theme that connects all these shows. It seems 2014 was the year for finding solace in hopelessness. And now that I understand this, it's not so strange that Rustin Cohle took over the internet with his cool disaffected nihilism. This was the year in which the end was nigh and everyone just shrugged and made another beer can sculpture.<br />
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Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-45451974797422810182014-11-24T12:55:00.000-08:002014-11-24T13:42:15.740-08:00State of Affairs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For a few minutes, I thought there was hope for this pilot. The episode starts with a scene of utter chaos, showing us a car being ambushed in Kabul, all shot from one character's point of view. It's a fantastic scene, with the camera seamlessly leaving first person and showing the terrified Katherine Heigl as she tries to crawl out of danger.<br />
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Then, people started talking, and all at once, that hope was dashed. Despite the attention-grabbing opening scene, the rest of this episode is so mind-numbingly boring it should be prescribed as a sedative. The show begins with a therapy session that would be grounds for revoking that therapist's license, then dives into a CIA plot line that could strain pasta it has so many holes in it, and ends with an overarching mystery that has all the intrigue of tying your shoelaces. </div>
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First, the plot holes. The central conflict of the pilot for <i>State of Affairs</i> is that there is an American doctor who has been kidnapped in Africa. In addition, there is a terrorist (a knock-off Osama Bin Laden) who the CIA has maybe just found, somewhere else in Africa. Charleston Tucker (Katherine Heigl) is the CIA's briefer to the president and she must decide which course of action to take, save the hostage or catch the bad guy. If you are wondering, "Why not save the hostage, which takes like an hour, then go kill the bad guy?" then A+, you pass the test, you can go home. If you are able to suspend disbelief and say, "OK, I'll buy it. Maybe the bad guy is able to pack up and completely vanish in one hour, which also happens to be the hour that they need to go save the hostage," then brace yourself because the plot holes only get wider from here on. </div>
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Our subplot for this episode is that a general with ties to the Syrian government is in CIA headquarters for a meeting. But, this general was arrested in France for bringing a cellphone into an intelligence facility and recording classified meetings. And Tucker is concerned he might do this again. So she kidnaps him illegally, and finds a secret hat phone on him. So, if this has you shouting in disbelief, "How has a dude with a listening device in his hat managed to walk into, not one, but <i>two</i> heavily secured intelligence agencies!?" then bravo, stop reading, you get the point. If you are able to somehow stomach the stupidity of all of this, let me tell you about the superfluous drama.</div>
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Superfluous drama is what happens when a show has a perfectly natural outlet for great drama and instead decides to inject the show with generic plot lines. For example, <i>State of Affairs </i>is about CIA analysts who brief the president. Having to decide what issues in the whole world are worthy of the president's ear? That is real, natural drama. Adding a subplot where your fiance, who was also the president's son, got killed by terrorists is superfluous drama. </div>
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I'll admit that sometimes TV viewers like old ideas dressed up in new clothes. But <i>State of Affairs </i>isn't even that. It's old Katherine Heigl in exactly the same clothes as before, only now they've thrown a leather jacket on her so you know she's super edgy.</div>
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<b>D-</b></div>
Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-87388484861647459172014-10-27T11:55:00.001-07:002014-10-28T11:54:30.551-07:00Constantine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes bad is complicated and sometimes it is oh so simple. In this case, what makes <i>Constantine</i> bad is terrible acting. Every line was delivered in the absolute worst way possible<br />
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So, as I try to suss out the merits of this pilot, remember that anything I may have liked was buried under oppressively bad acting. </div>
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<i>Constantine</i> tells, once again, the story of a roguish exorcist/master of the dark arts, named John Constantine, as he combats the forces of evil. The story, originally a DC comic, got a big screen adaptation with Keanu Reeves and Shia Lebeouf that went predictably poorly. In this pilot, Constantine meets a young woman in peril who has the ability to see spirits. For reasons not terribly clear, a demon is hunting her, and Constantine has got to banish it somehow. Basically, it's an episode of<i> Supernatural</i>, replacing two hunky men with one unkempt Brit who looks like he's constantly squinting at the sun. Also, don't forget, everyone sucks at acting.</div>
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Besides the acting, <i>Constantine</i> is a mixed bag. This show has great production values (for network). It has some genuine scares, some terrific effects, and enough raw imagination to be equally as entertaining with the sound on mute. (In fact, I'd recommend it.) But the style is a little too clean. Everything the characters wear, no matter how messy, looks like a costume. Constantine's iconic, lazy look seems completely intentional, as if it took hours of hard work in front of a mirror to undo his tie to just the right length. Minor players seem anachronistically dressed for no good reason.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liv's ability to see ghosts is apparently limited to douchebag ghosts.</td></tr>
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The writing is serviceable, but suffers from many classic pilot sins. The most egregious of which would be late in the second half where Constantine takes a moment from his demon hunting to talk at length about his back story to a complete stranger. I don't really understand why network pilots so frequently insist on doing this. It's not as if we finish the episode saying, "Well thank god I learned about his childhood. Otherwise, I would have been totally lost." </div>
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<i>Constantine</i>, as the comic has proved, has the potential for boundless imagination. Unlike <i>Supernatural</i>, the DC comic frequently pits John Constantine against forces from every pantheon, not just the Judeo-Christian one. Which means, there's hope for this show to become something other than a weak <i>Supernatural</i> knockoff with much better special effects. Then again, given David S. Goyer's track record, I'm not holding my breath.<br />
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<b>C</b></div>
Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-58940390248082454752014-10-15T17:48:00.000-07:002014-10-16T11:41:32.852-07:00Marry Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A good ensemble is a rare thing. Just one wrong actor, one ill fitting character, and the whole group feels like a lopsided top. I say this because the show <i>Happy Endings</i> had a great ensemble. It was nearly perfect in that regard. And it was cancelled far too soon. So now we have <i>Marry Me</i>, network television's way of apologizing for cancelling something so good.<br />
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It wasn't David Caspe that made <i>Happy Endings</i> such a delightful show. It was the ensemble. <i>Marry Me'</i>s ensemble isn't choking on the material, exactly, but nothing's popping. Ken Marino and Casey Wilson, the lead couple, are terrific and very well suited for each other, but the side characters are forgettable and weak. And without that brilliant ensemble, we are faced with raw, unprepared Caspe, and this is a dish that needs cooking.<br />
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First of all, Caspe really likes dropping big emotional bombs, right off the bat, and then walking away from them. <i>Happy Endings</i> began with a botched wedding, <i>Marry Me</i>, a botched engagement. In both cases, it is painted as the woman's fault (a pattern I'd rather we not keep hammering deeper). And in both cases, it is something very quickly forgotten, so everyone can go back to being all chummy and making jokes. The jokes are fine, but why even have the big emotional moments if you don't want to follow through?<br />
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In <i>Marry Me</i>, Jake (Marino) proposes to his girlfriend, Annie (Wilson), and she winds up embarrassing herself and insulting him in front of everyone, and he basically revokes the engagement. This is a really major emotional event and as soon as it happens, Caspe is already walking back. He's already putting up deflection jokes to undo the damage his characters have done. By the end of the episode, it's all put back together very nicely, and I feel like nothing even happened.<br />
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This is not to say that this is a bad pilot. The jokes were funny, the chemistry was instant between Wilson and Marino, and Tim Meadows can do no wrong in my eyes. The problems I have with <i>Marry Me</i> apply to a lot of other sitcoms as well, and maybe it is a compliment that the biggest flaw I can find in this show is with the genre.<br />
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There is an addiction to perfection in the sitcom world. Every episode needs to begin with characters being mostly happy and end with them being mostly happy. With <i>Seinfeld</i>, it made sense. The problems faced, episode to episode, were so mundane that they could be solved in half an hour. But when you are cancelling weddings or alienating all of your loved ones in one go, these are problems that take a while to fix in any meaningful way. And this is the Caspe curse: The jokes are funny, the chemistry is great, but nothing has any meaning.<br />
<br />
<b>B-</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-78336028685972948562014-10-14T19:20:00.000-07:002014-10-14T19:20:25.103-07:00Jane the Virgin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcvIwkIMWqhou9jDUyn0WkXE8ASnis0O_FkZK7JTKEdA7m2dN0cr6cDZbz-otTfHqaVGBPy_P24ac4hj_3lRRvQmT6MOrXVgWDafCf978579lPtUPH2TKJJeP9R9nBsaD0O7vPi-wVi1a/s1600/jane.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPcvIwkIMWqhou9jDUyn0WkXE8ASnis0O_FkZK7JTKEdA7m2dN0cr6cDZbz-otTfHqaVGBPy_P24ac4hj_3lRRvQmT6MOrXVgWDafCf978579lPtUPH2TKJJeP9R9nBsaD0O7vPi-wVi1a/s1600/jane.png" height="221" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Here's a flowchart.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wx9NTAMXghjasm391pC8sPVcA0Q74lP4LibZi4udqutSE7rrGrGCL3PO6JIPH6ERT4Ws3I6UTMoJBfbc_bkigGPraDCjJ_waq0RQi23uyRYQLPBM7BgFTW-y8drYSNgPlrFkpDgS_U0W/s1600/jane-flowchart.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wx9NTAMXghjasm391pC8sPVcA0Q74lP4LibZi4udqutSE7rrGrGCL3PO6JIPH6ERT4Ws3I6UTMoJBfbc_bkigGPraDCjJ_waq0RQi23uyRYQLPBM7BgFTW-y8drYSNgPlrFkpDgS_U0W/s1600/jane-flowchart.png" height="293" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>B+</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-7770949121204245042014-10-14T18:51:00.000-07:002014-10-17T12:06:28.937-07:00Mulaney<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWoFUj1_Ye6mC9QSEgcnmkvrPWEjTGejKpTrr-xtAgqmpSnc-C8oQsOoCeepzU5ju8b-zx3lEoRsncrZSs2gidjZRYeFnoOMZviVHnd1_FU3J7I8DNygpGDkwnIZ4MrEQ9liPtsogpPTc/s1600/Mulaney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdWoFUj1_Ye6mC9QSEgcnmkvrPWEjTGejKpTrr-xtAgqmpSnc-C8oQsOoCeepzU5ju8b-zx3lEoRsncrZSs2gidjZRYeFnoOMZviVHnd1_FU3J7I8DNygpGDkwnIZ4MrEQ9liPtsogpPTc/s1600/Mulaney.jpg" height="251" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
John Mulaney is a funny guy. He's been writing for SNL for a long time, he's got a very promising stand-up special under his belt, and he's unique. Also, he cannot write a sit-com to save his life.<br />
<br />
This is a bad pilot. This is a really really bad pilot. It is filled with lazy and sometimes upsetting stereotypes (the bad black comedian, the crazy girl), and gives far too much screen time to Martin Short. It makes me wonder if you, John Mulaney, are a talented stand-up comedian, why make a sitcom? If you have funny jokes to tell us, why not just tell us those jokes instead of putting them in the mouth of a bunch of overacting stereotypes.<br />
<br />
See, to me, stand-up comedy is comedy in its purest. You tell us a joke, and we laugh. And if that's all you want to do, keep doing stand-up. If you want to tell stories, then you go into sitcoms. But it doesn't seem like <i>Mulaney</i> wants to tell any stories at all. The pilot is minimally about a comedian feeling undervalued at his new job, but the plot has no stakes, the characters have no real conflict. No one hurts or heals. No one feels anything complex. Everyone just stands at their marks and says year-and-a-half-old John Mulaney jokes.<br />
<br />
When trying to figure out why this was so bad, I remembered Louie C.K.'s first sitcom, <i>Lucky Louie</i>. It was a multicam, blandly-lit, by-the-books sitcom. It's crazy to think that the guy behind<i> Lucky Louie </i>went on to eventually produce <i>Louie</i>, which is the greatest sitcom ever made.<br />
<br />
But <i>Mulaney</i> isn't even as good as <i>Lucky Louie</i>. Even in the confines of the multicam, Louie C.K. had something to say, something about frustration and loneliness. As a comedian, Louie C.K. was able to talk about feeling pathetic and worthless, but for the first time, he was able to show you these feelings. He was able to perform. <i>Mulaney</i> has no point, nothing interesting to say, and on top of that, John Mulaney himself seems entirely unwilling, or unable to perform. He embodies nothing except whatever joke he is currently telling.<br />
<br />
<b>D+</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-20116483002244315182014-10-14T18:48:00.002-07:002014-10-17T12:19:28.299-07:00Bad Judge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiEwk6ZdwA68AzRiRpJRAKtoFR4tzCMu28u0vTQuw8io6v_u3OCUElBFZCnLiZImWfGBpKRFPO0Ei9SRdnNq7susbzerix6Wi_1Cw-NZAo5T1opjKkzHyF_z__Q8K3wlCIJ39nDR6hCszI/s1600/bad-judge-620x400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiEwk6ZdwA68AzRiRpJRAKtoFR4tzCMu28u0vTQuw8io6v_u3OCUElBFZCnLiZImWfGBpKRFPO0Ei9SRdnNq7susbzerix6Wi_1Cw-NZAo5T1opjKkzHyF_z__Q8K3wlCIJ39nDR6hCszI/s1600/bad-judge-620x400.jpg" height="256" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Honestly, this is not a terrible show. And I'm a little disappointed, because I was all primed and ready with some killer puns just in case the show was bad. And no, I won't tell you those awesome <i>Bad Judge</i> puns. I will take them to my grave.<br />
<br />
But seriously, how bonkers is it that there are people whose job it is to judge us? To sit above us all and proclaim from on high that we deserve to be punished? It is an accepted part of our legal system, and yet it is a mostly unexamined mindset.<br />
<br />
This show takes an interesting approach to the subject by embodying "Judge not, that ye be not judged." During this episode, <i>Bad Judge</i>'s Rebecca Wright (Kate Walsh) is constantly judged by other people. And she doesn't get upset, she doesn't resent it. The conflict of <i>Bad Judge</i> is not about being stigmatized. It's not about her crumbling relationships and her constant assholishness. This is not <i>Rake</i>. The conflict arises from Rebecca's relationship with a young boy whose mother Rebecca has sent to jail. It is about her role after her judgment has been made and her punishment has been exacted.<br />
<br />
Kate Walsh is excellent. The supporting cast is fine, and Chris Parnell shows up and sprinkles comedy gold on everything he touches. So how do I know this show is going to get cancelled?<br />
<br />
Because it's not about a young woman. The fact that this show is about a full grown adult woman who is slutty and messy and unapologetic puts a bulls-eye on its back. For whatever reason, on TV, you can be a young bad girl, an old bad man, or an old good woman, but according to network TV, the instant you turn 40, your vagina snaps shut like a bear trap.<br />
<br />
<i>Bad Judge</i> is in no way perfect. But it's solid, and could easily grow into something formidable. Unfortunately, I strongly doubt we'll ever see that happen.<br />
<b><br />B-</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-47380360491314553142014-10-10T01:05:00.001-07:002014-10-16T11:34:50.936-07:00The Affair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf1aNSMmVC55OZ7qR425rBG9CEuT-kLJ2YIqAVZulYhJOvNUQz4EqdNdF2mW9Lisq4Pl8sEkvm9isPCTp8IPWKfyjptbAIe7z8-LeP3FXr04Me9N32-EOaCwsewj8J0Xdq3OiBjIW6T9az/s1600/affair.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf1aNSMmVC55OZ7qR425rBG9CEuT-kLJ2YIqAVZulYhJOvNUQz4EqdNdF2mW9Lisq4Pl8sEkvm9isPCTp8IPWKfyjptbAIe7z8-LeP3FXr04Me9N32-EOaCwsewj8J0Xdq3OiBjIW6T9az/s1600/affair.png" height="221" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I find myself questioning my role as I write this review of <i>The Affair.</i> I'm aware that I should explain the premise of the show and describe how the pilot sets up that premise. I can't do that. Because it's so much better if you don't know what the premise is (beyond the fact that two people will at one point have an affair). So, I have a very specific goal for this review. I am going to convince you to watch this show without talking about anything that happens in the pilot. Then you will watch the show. And I will be happy.<br />
<br />
First of all, let me say that the casting decisions for this show are perfect. And not just because the actors are excellent, but because they are so incredibly un-sexy. Dominic West always looks like he's just gotten lost in a grocery store, and Ruth Wilson, at the wrong angle, looks like a Simpsons character. And it's brilliant! Because they look like real people. They don't look like models. When characters in this pilot have sex (because it's a Showtime pilot so everyone has to have all the sex), it's funny looking, because full-grown men having sex is really funny looking.<br />
<br />
After seeing this episode, I'm actually kind of mad at all the love stories I've seen up until now. What this show has revealed is that you devalue your love story by casting total hotties. You cheapen their love; you transform it into shallow, basic lust. If you want to make a story about something true and powerful and affecting, make it about people who fall in love for reasons other than a great rack and a strong chin.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself, because this pilot isn't really about love. I can't tell you what it's about. But it's not about love.<br />
<br />
This show, oddly enough, is a mystery. But not in the way you'd expect. The show asks the question, "What happened?" And then, instead of showing you what happened, it just makes hints, allegations. It skirts around what happened. It recounts, and then recants. It dances with the truth.<br />
<br />
I will say that one of this show's strongest weapons is a limited scope. A small scope can keep stakes high, and make every moment feel more important, but it's also a double-edged sword, and one that has cut me before. (<i>Homeland</i>, I'm looking at you.) The events of this show have a lot of weight because you know that the show does not have endless variations. It is one story - one thrust through a limited section of these people's lives. This show and others of its ilk reject the television norm and toss the very idea of status quo. This makes me excited to see how the writers will keep the show alive, but at the same time, I dread having to watch them cart the show's lifeless body around many seasons past its expiration date.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I hope this review was vague and uninformative because maybe it will compel you to watch the show just to find out what the fuck I was talking about.<br />
<br />
<b>A-</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-47276751332055213562014-10-10T00:16:00.000-07:002014-11-03T07:00:31.587-08:00The Flash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEeiS6k-lTX4oA45AMksxKqTjOvt8zeOFKc3h682wHn2o9Jcv0d7wrIba151L24l8kiR5ohHg9zDNn4sP8bjC43od0KAldyJoR56oEimNdwx0jrCUJdXbvr_C7RphuyjJ_PXL4JmSyjT95/s1600/flash1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEeiS6k-lTX4oA45AMksxKqTjOvt8zeOFKc3h682wHn2o9Jcv0d7wrIba151L24l8kiR5ohHg9zDNn4sP8bjC43od0KAldyJoR56oEimNdwx0jrCUJdXbvr_C7RphuyjJ_PXL4JmSyjT95/s1600/flash1.jpg" height="250" width="400" /></a></div>
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The pilot for <i>The Flash</i> begins with the line (in voice over, because fuck you), "To understand what I'm about to tell you, you need to do something first: you need to believe in the impossible."</div>
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This is a nice sentiment, sure. But it foreshadows basically everything wrong with this episode of television. I can believe that a man bitten by a spider or struck by lighting can suddenly get super powers (and abs). I can even believe that dressing up in a unitard and fighting crime is a remotely reasonable thing to do with your abilities, but that doesn't mean you have carte blanche to do whatever the hell you want, all the time. For example, if you are running at 200 miles per hour and you catch someone falling off their bike, you are essentially <i>hitting them</i> at 200 miles per hour. You're not helping. And it takes only the slightest thought to deduce this fact. And there are so many others. You should watch this episode, seriously, as a sight-seeing tour through stupid ideas. </div>
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And it's not just geek-thought problems. There are so many TV sins in one episode, including, but not limited to: secret wall of newspaper clippings connected by red yarn (as if people still get information from physical newspapers), endless tedious voice over, beginning the episode with mom dying (why must everyone's parents die?), ostracizing nerds for being smart ("in English please!"), and so many more. Actually, let me follow up on that last sin. I don't understand why people keep writing the interchange in which a smart person describes in vaguely technical terms what something is and then someone else demands they explain it in less "sciencey" terms. Especially when what they are saying is only confusing to a ninth grader who's never read a Wikipedia article. This scene is lazy, and cliche, and more importantly, inaccurate. People, especially young people, do not ostracize intelligent, attractive young men nowadays. Geeks are chic and everyone loves <i>Sherlock</i>. It's so very late 90s to assume that nerd is a bad word anymore. In fact, this whole pilot is very late 90s. Look at this guy's hair:</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3UErWq6HDDgjnlm6EFEPsqPBvPQ3qIA8Kt79kEZ6OwkbfNfLH4-Qb8ib5pKw8ugHxQOeMetrdlTOzjjFSruPNjnBo56U_rCVEWkUApmQaYQdY8pLbVEmWl7tuFmwwvwxLmt19uw2zuGx/s1600/flash2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ3UErWq6HDDgjnlm6EFEPsqPBvPQ3qIA8Kt79kEZ6OwkbfNfLH4-Qb8ib5pKw8ugHxQOeMetrdlTOzjjFSruPNjnBo56U_rCVEWkUApmQaYQdY8pLbVEmWl7tuFmwwvwxLmt19uw2zuGx/s1600/flash2.jpeg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I kept expecting this guy to whip out his heart ring<br />
and summon Captain Planet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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To be fair, <i>The Flash</i> is not all bad. There are some funny jokes, some decent character building, mostly strong performances, and just enough self awareness to keep you from throwing up in your mouth. All in all, it could be worse (it could be <i>Gotham</i>). I think the biggest mistake the pilot made was in that opening voice over I mentioned. It should have been, "To understand what I'm about to tell you, you need to do something first: you need to believe we are still living in the 1990s."</div>
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There. Fixed.</div>
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<b>B-</b></div>
Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-57953071626376877842014-10-06T22:08:00.003-07:002014-10-08T11:53:02.698-07:00Stalker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jCZXRm-GQmuRSKFtv07rYkaSdAUBbWrGHWxFgOf3zJMU9lUitQkbxNLuXCbyBlUEnNnlJucQr6SY2_xewpZh9b7jEdcT3WOvhQCdJCAoX-f0p4Q5Xxdx8qNsj9d1ogSAbtAXUqBXep96/s1600/stalker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5jCZXRm-GQmuRSKFtv07rYkaSdAUBbWrGHWxFgOf3zJMU9lUitQkbxNLuXCbyBlUEnNnlJucQr6SY2_xewpZh9b7jEdcT3WOvhQCdJCAoX-f0p4Q5Xxdx8qNsj9d1ogSAbtAXUqBXep96/s1600/stalker.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
If you want to write like Kevin Williamson, here's a recipe for you.<br />
<br />
<div>
Step one: Add 1 beautiful woman. Kill her.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Step two: Add glib, sociopathic dialogue. Stir until thoroughly disgusting.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Step three: Add 1 new vulnerable woman in peril every 15 minutes. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Step four: Add a dash of disturbing gender politics. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Step five: Garnish with in-jokes and self-reference so everyone knows how clever you are.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Step six: Overcook. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And there you have it. You've written a Kevin Williamson script. Good for you. If it's 1996, you're a goddamn rebel. If it's 2014, you should be embarrassed. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>C-</b></div>
Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-29632535858548421972014-09-26T11:59:00.000-07:002014-09-26T12:14:38.460-07:00How to Get Away With Murder<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fBy2as4Vjouj1A6oefEgucDh6NirG38s6R5faEACETy7H8ep9u4KT4zEBJvmbqBjl9kmxKLz1kxKCRwqugctjFOwBVVcq8mO9juf7KgmvYc8RnkGY6uZMSQAFfIzZ_9rB9UldA47GRjP/s1600/murder5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6fBy2as4Vjouj1A6oefEgucDh6NirG38s6R5faEACETy7H8ep9u4KT4zEBJvmbqBjl9kmxKLz1kxKCRwqugctjFOwBVVcq8mO9juf7KgmvYc8RnkGY6uZMSQAFfIzZ_9rB9UldA47GRjP/s1600/murder5.png" height="221" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This episode was the absolute epitome of quantity over quality. The pace was so fast and the tone so bombastic that it trampled all the show's flaws (which were numerous). If a moment didn't work, or a line didn't make sense, it didn't matter, because the show was already moving on.<br />
<br />
The show is ostensibly about a law class taught by defense attorney, Annalise Keating (Viola Davis) and her ambitious (and remarkably diverse) students.<br />
<br />
But really, it's about crazy, sexy murder.<br />
<br />
Instead of discussing the merits and flaws of the show, I think it would better serve us all to simply diagnose the types of crazy we're dealing with here.<br />
<br />
<b>Good Crazy: Starting an episode with a murder.</b><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTeYmSj2_KyJxEMoKnHsr-C-zPPZ6S0bMzl_KUbAoqWGWB1Z9NmverUgPwfe0-mTauC0o2h1FCtqLvQCQzTz2g6ZUWeE1rfUxGNfUcryKHRJAi3QU13kCEPUZRCGGRI49oyqCwYi0giL3i/s1600/murder6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTeYmSj2_KyJxEMoKnHsr-C-zPPZ6S0bMzl_KUbAoqWGWB1Z9NmverUgPwfe0-mTauC0o2h1FCtqLvQCQzTz2g6ZUWeE1rfUxGNfUcryKHRJAi3QU13kCEPUZRCGGRI49oyqCwYi0giL3i/s1600/murder6.png" height="178" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bonus points for the murder weapon being Lady Justice.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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All shows about murder should start with a murder. Everyone knows this. But what most people miss is that all shows about murder should start with all the main characters standing around after they've just murdered someone, deciding whether or not to hide the body.</div>
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<b>Bad Crazy: None of this makes any sense.</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-_1_ybHSA216u7Jz2gshjaJszMVS6fBWxj3KSQGEFkJmgoooZ4Sm1Sm6ceDVRXHvy2-q4aYReaaZ36qbt5o6lAE2INE_wCNrTLPkyHsyiWHexgc6ff5r-0bNIb5YO3vqMN06rfcxGMGB/s1600/murder3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE-_1_ybHSA216u7Jz2gshjaJszMVS6fBWxj3KSQGEFkJmgoooZ4Sm1Sm6ceDVRXHvy2-q4aYReaaZ36qbt5o6lAE2INE_wCNrTLPkyHsyiWHexgc6ff5r-0bNIb5YO3vqMN06rfcxGMGB/s1600/murder3.png" height="178" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This frame could use more people in it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The idea of inviting your entire law class to help you defend a client is totally bonkers and would never happen but we're living in Shonda-land so deal with it.</div>
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<b>Good Crazy: The almost haunted house level creepiness of Wes's dorm.</b></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxQdNXD54HDUcFxbvExTY7pB7s_67bhprwCo1HvAGNDv1vM8x3DFz047ohf27rlWIoC4MHQ8T2wlsLYw6f6fPkMbiK5XV0dZXxCeoJ7v2xxbXUorW6kVIxCV4bM8suy0HJ2qyDCsJNZg-c/s1600/murder4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxQdNXD54HDUcFxbvExTY7pB7s_67bhprwCo1HvAGNDv1vM8x3DFz047ohf27rlWIoC4MHQ8T2wlsLYw6f6fPkMbiK5XV0dZXxCeoJ7v2xxbXUorW6kVIxCV4bM8suy0HJ2qyDCsJNZg-c/s1600/murder4.png" height="178" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Complete with <i>bite marks on the banister.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I don't know why the writers decided Wes's dorm should be so fucking creepy, but why the hell not at this point.<br />
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<b>Bad Crazy: This fucking girl.</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSo_X1TcBEj90RZfoTmLjxNB8PS-CEkNElfu0E9GBp3dkxS-8-DDrTvBJVcS7-OJ0KyF8RYY4FRzFZRqoar9DImTUl42B0dYSZ8HXXyXB3NiVcbQX94dYIxnjhStY5Rla7GCcTOa_NV8S/s1600/murder8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSo_X1TcBEj90RZfoTmLjxNB8PS-CEkNElfu0E9GBp3dkxS-8-DDrTvBJVcS7-OJ0KyF8RYY4FRzFZRqoar9DImTUl42B0dYSZ8HXXyXB3NiVcbQX94dYIxnjhStY5Rla7GCcTOa_NV8S/s1600/murder8.png" height="178" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's the worst.. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b>Good Crazy: The <i>most</i> plot lines, all of them murder/sex related.</b><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2I8TVtva9U6hTvqUlrjDiiWUszwlGnCX2k8XmuXUEvKXyf1Ma_ewfUCtZXp9_1xnsUW8g29DNGSFkY5LlG1l4YSHeGTic60Exp9qsEpnnUCWiOUIwtfycMLctabzme7YY_GpkB_My7ecL/s1600/murder2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2I8TVtva9U6hTvqUlrjDiiWUszwlGnCX2k8XmuXUEvKXyf1Ma_ewfUCtZXp9_1xnsUW8g29DNGSFkY5LlG1l4YSHeGTic60Exp9qsEpnnUCWiOUIwtfycMLctabzme7YY_GpkB_My7ecL/s1600/murder2.png" height="178" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Think we could get some more posters on this board?</td></tr>
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Right off the bat, there are so many sexy and/or dead people in this pilot that by the first commercial break I was sure the episode would end in a blood orgy. (I'm still holding out hope for the season finale.)</div>
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So, you get my point here - the show is nuts. But it's more than that. It's also kind of smart. Having an improbable amount of murders surrounding a small group of law students is just bonkers, but the insanity taps into the mind of our heroes in a delightful way. These are people learning how to defend guilty people. They are young men and women of enough privilege to believe that they can use their knowledge of the law to break the law. They are starting down a road fraught with ethical quagmires, and while the events of this pilot would never happen in real life, the emotions are plausible, and better yet, really engaging. </div>
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<b>B+</b></div>
Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-19351261140495147232014-09-25T11:01:00.000-07:002014-09-25T12:28:16.609-07:00Black-ish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipipy_T7H7rDyZkanJFs4xodM2Tp4e74__E2rAjaMjdSbydpiVdhKCVEG-UkaDEWeyO03dVfo4Lf-gfGrM9Gup6TjoXOYjCjIpKUuPxvleUfzDOX3QHlqEOMtU7hED3VO_lVL0POA4rfwR/s1600/Blackish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipipy_T7H7rDyZkanJFs4xodM2Tp4e74__E2rAjaMjdSbydpiVdhKCVEG-UkaDEWeyO03dVfo4Lf-gfGrM9Gup6TjoXOYjCjIpKUuPxvleUfzDOX3QHlqEOMtU7hED3VO_lVL0POA4rfwR/s1600/Blackish.jpg" height="200" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
Warning: Incoming white dude talking about race.<br />
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There is an interesting premise at the core of <i>Black-ish</i>. Can you maintain your lower class identity after becoming wealthy? It's an interesting idea and is explored a little in this pilot. Obviously, there are a lot more avenues for exploration that the show is saving for later, but the road signs are clear. One problem. It's not funny.<br />
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It's not even a little bit funny.<br />
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Sure there are jokes, but they are all given to Anthony Anderson, who has only one delivery, and it's grating and obnoxious. There is a whole lot of standing around discussing what it means to be black. And while many families do occasionally stand around and talk about their cultural heritage, they also, sometimes, talk about <i>anything else,</i> a fact this show forgets.<br />
<br />
The show also suffers from a desire to explain everything to death. For example, early in the episode, Andre Johnson Jr. (Marcus Scribner) tells his father Andre Johnson Sr. (Anthony Anderson) that he is joining the field hockey team. This a is a great way of demonstrating how Andre Johnson Sr.'s cultural identity is being challenged. But instead of letting the moment speak for itself, Johnson Sr. starts whining about how his cultural heritage is being challenged. This remarkable lack of faith in the intelligence of the audience is what makes <i>Black-ish</i> such a boring half-hour of television, and such a waste of a good idea.<br />
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<b>C</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-58920677626981404852014-09-23T15:17:00.002-07:002014-09-29T04:01:34.254-07:00The Mysteries of Laura<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJlwAZb5y4kZNnMQ5Zx-fM9ZHxK_P10H1UoJ4vnRp7oGasgUGv3AGYZa-JdI558KpIgV5xoM2JJPoX8hGGp9DUEdQzK753WOhEUT0ovL3K74N8JMID7OtNkHJmAfYtJs9DyLgR3N1TZdQ/s1600/mysteries+of+laura.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEJlwAZb5y4kZNnMQ5Zx-fM9ZHxK_P10H1UoJ4vnRp7oGasgUGv3AGYZa-JdI558KpIgV5xoM2JJPoX8hGGp9DUEdQzK753WOhEUT0ovL3K74N8JMID7OtNkHJmAfYtJs9DyLgR3N1TZdQ/s1600/mysteries+of+laura.png" height="221" width="400" /></a></div>
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Once you've seen one cop show, you've basically seen them all. Unless that one cop show is <i>The Wire</i>. Plot-wise, every cop show follows the same exact beats, mixing personal life with professional life, moments of intrigue, moments of action. It's predictable and safe. Beyond that, every cop show's job is to come up with a reason to watch this cop show instead of all the others. Whether it be through comedy, realism, absurdity, self-awareness, politics, grit, a wheelchair, every cop show pilot must take steps to separate itself from the pack. And despite all the obvious weaknesses of <i>The Mysteries of Laura</i>, it actually does a really good job of standing out in the world of cop show.<br />
<br />
<i>The Mysteries of Laura</i> is far from the first cop show with a female lead. It's not even the first cop show with a single white mom in the lead. What it is, though, is a cop show that refuses to join the boy's club. The show's titular character, Laura (Deborah Messing) is not masculine. She is not "one of the guys." She's a nagging mom. Her assistant is an effeminate man. Her partner is your classic clueless dude. The staples of a cop show are all there, but the hyper-masculinity has been sucked out.<br />
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As for the case of the week, <i>The Mysteries of Laura</i> has a decent enough opening murder. It's unique and puzzling and while I saw the conclusion coming two commercial breaks in advance, I didn't see all the details fitting together so nicely. The personal plot line was funny and loaded with moral ambiguity, the stuff I like seeing in my cop shows. But it was soft, doting moral ambiguity as opposed to tough, macho moral ambiguity. And that made it fun. But while this was certainly an entertaining hour of television, I can't imagine any reason to come back and watch more. Neither personal nor professional story was given enough time and energy to be anything more than briefly entertaining. Moreover, I can't really understand who the show's audience is.<br />
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Cop shows are aimed at men. We like watching dudes shoot each other. And mom shows are aimed at moms. So I'm not sure who in the Venn Diagram is watching <i>The Mysteries of Laura</i>. If watching struggling mothers is appealing to you, watch <i>Parenthood</i> (quick, before it's gone). If you like watching cop shows, watch <i>Southland</i> (because you probably didn't watch it when it was airing, you bastard). But who wants both in one place? Especially when neither is done particularly well.<br />
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<b>C-</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2652768967919966183.post-73178992081596411502014-09-23T12:51:00.000-07:002014-09-23T13:10:58.539-07:00Gotham<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQMTF0Dw57uhLJat2-OJROWZKHDIrtzkOn8NhMJbGjyNvW3LQR0B15mGcuto-YQsqkdiltYSfifTEsr_YR07YgEEhC0atFP6o7dt4lkisiB-QKXrLzZcEh6GFv6Ni8cBQ1uscrKqd1WO2/s1600/Gotham.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQMTF0Dw57uhLJat2-OJROWZKHDIrtzkOn8NhMJbGjyNvW3LQR0B15mGcuto-YQsqkdiltYSfifTEsr_YR07YgEEhC0atFP6o7dt4lkisiB-QKXrLzZcEh6GFv6Ni8cBQ1uscrKqd1WO2/s1600/Gotham.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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Fuck me, this is bad. This is really, really bad. This is so bad that I actually like all other Batman-related things less. And the worst part is that I know we are all to blame for how bad this is.<br />
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Back in 1997, we, as a nation, were experiencing Batman fatigue. The previous decade had spewed forth countless terrible Batman movies. All of them painfully stupid Hollywood action films dressed up as comic book adaptations. So we hung our heads in disgust and hoped Batman would die soon, just to put him out of his misery. And then, 2005 came along and Christopher Nolan made <i>Batman Begins</i>. Lo and behold there was a Batman film in which things like grief and justice were addressed with the kind of gravitas they deserved. Characters, even villains, were seen as real people with complicated motivations. Source material outside of the 1940s and 50s original cannon was tapped to make a new brand of Batman. And it was a brand that respected the cowl.<br />
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But we were fools. So enamored were we with this new serious Batman that we overlooked its flaws. We ignored the plot holes and the tonal inconsistencies. We watched Nolan's next two installments, clinging to that feeling we had when we first watched <i>Batman Begins</i>: the feeling that finally Batman would be taken seriously.<br />
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But it was all for naught. What we realized while watching the horrid monstrosity that is <i>The Dark Knight Rises</i> was that Batman was never meant to be taken so seriously. Batman dresses in tights and fights evil clowns. There are certainly lofty themes discussed, and genuine emotions felt, but this is not the real world.<br />
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So now, we are living in a post-Nolan world, where even Superman is gritty, and this fall season, on Fox, we get <i>Gotham. </i>On behalf of Batman nerds everywhere, I'm sorry.<br />
<br />
<i>Gotham</i> is Batman without Batman. It features all the villains of the Batman cannon before they become villains, back when they are just ordinary people with annoying personality quirks. It's about Gordon before he becomes the resigned authority figure that so excellently counterbalances Batman's zealous brand of justice. So, basically, it lacks everything that made Batman an enjoyable comic. But, it does retain a few of the hallmarks of classic Batman. It has a woefully inaccurate and simplified understanding of how the criminal justice system works. It has bland, on the nose writing ("You're a good guy," says Bullock. "You're a cynic," says Gordon, blank stares), it has the gritty Gothic Noir atmosphere, but none of the larger-than-life characters to fill it. It is an over-serious, under-cooked Noir with no flair and no point.<br />
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It is, in short, the worst.<br />
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<b>D-</b>Timothy Earlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05362743899002014314noreply@blogger.com0