You've probably heard by now that a new draft of the script for the American remake of "Akira" is circulating in Hollywood, and there's a shortlist of Caucasian actors up for the two leads, Kaneda and Tetsuo, who were originally Japanese teenagers, but are now almost certain to be transmogrified into twenty-something and thirty-something white guys. I wrote up my thoughts on the casting issues over a month ago, when James Franco was rumored to be up for one of the roles. And since I spent most of yesterday examining the Katniss casting controversy, I'm just about fed up with anyone working as a casting director in Hollywood right now.
So let's switch gears. If you have to Americanize "Akira" - an idea I'm not crazy about, but if you have to - what would be the best way to do it? How do you balance what the studio wants, which is a big, easy-to-sell, effects-driven action movie, with what the fans want, which is something more faithful to the original Katushiro Otomo manga and/or 1988 anime adaptation? First, it needs to be said that what Warner Brothers is really interested in exploiting here is not the complex, groundbreaking story of "Akira," but simply its recognizable title and notoriety. And so few people are really familiar with either version of the story, especially the younger audiences this film will probably be aimed at, it makes little difference to them if the American adaptation has anything to do with the original beyond a few superficial similarities.
In order to minimize the damage then, Warners should avoid attempting to court the original fans, and make no claims to faithfulness to Otomo's work. Frankly, experience has shown that they're not capable of delivering a faithful adaptation, and they would only invite backlash by making any half-hearted attempts to do so. "Akira" is a story of an anarchic motorcycle gang causing mayhem in a dystopian Neo-Tokyo, and Warners is clearly unwilling to feature either Asian actors or a Japanese setting. I highly doubt that they would be willing to depict the full extremes of the violence and gore that were present in the originals either, though the content is one of the reasons why "Akira" is so fondly remembered by my generation of anime fans - it was one of the few available animated films of the time that was unapologetically R-rated.
One alternative, that is probably the most likely approach, is to entirely transplant the story into an American context the way that "The Departed" adapted "Infernal Affairs," or conversely, the way "Throne of Blood" adapted "Macbeth." Simply take the concepts and ideas behind "Akira" and reinterpret them with American settings and characters. Early reviews of the script reveal that the action has already been moved from Neo-Tokyo to Neo-Manhattan. The only thing that would need to remain Japanese would be the title, for the sake of brand recognition. I'm honestly puzzled why the current Steve Kloves version of the script apparently keeps the original names of the protagonists, Kaneda and Tetsuo, which are obviously Japanese. If Warners seriously wants anyone on the announced shortlist to be involved without controversy, they're better off creating entirely original, Western characters.
Another possibility would be to create an original story set in the same universe as "Akira." That way, the filmmakers could use or reference some of the familiar events and characters while not being beholden to them. Instead of trying to reimagine Kaneda as a New Yorker twice his original age, simply tell a story of an entirely different biker gang from Neo-Manhattan, and maybe let Kaneda cameo as a survivor of the original film. That would preserve the fact that he's a Japanese icon, and avoid stepping on too many toes. They could even reuse the mysterious Akira as a macguffin in the story, and thus provide a reason for why the film is titled "Akira."
As I have said before, there's nothing intrinsically wrong with the idea of an Americanized "Akira" adaptation, but there are a whole lot of ways it can all go wrong, and I think Warner Brothers has already taken some serious missteps here. Fortunately, they're still early in the process, the script can be rewritten, and that shortlist of actors isn't set in stone. There's time to do some damage control and address these problems. Still, I'm continuously amazed at how shortsighted and tone-deaf the filmmakers have been. Are they completely cut off from the current culture? Do they think that the teenagers who have grown up with anime for the last fifteen years aren't going to notice the whitewashed Japanese characters?
I can't help feeling that we're in for another cinema trainwreck. Oh well. Maybe they'll only learn through failure.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Casting Katniss
I have some thoughts on the recent casting kerfuffle around Katniss Everdeen, the heroine of upcoming "Hunger Games" movie, based on the young adult novel by Suzanne Collins. Let me make it clear straight out that this is not another diatribe about Hollywood's rotten practice of whitewashing ethnic characters and racially biased casting practices. The questionable casting tactics employed by the producers of "The Hunger Games" has already been addressed by the Movieline blog and other critics who have more knowledge of the source material than I do. I haven't read the "Hunger Games" books, but they're essentially a tamer "Battle Royale" sexed up with more romance and teen angst, and aimed squarely at the same young adult audience that fueled the rise of "Twilight." Also, Katniss is apparently racially ambiguous, which makes the casting choice of Jennifer Lawrence, still enjoying the glow from her Oscar nomination for "Winter's Bone," a far less egregious example of whitewashing than many other recent examples. Still, it's nice that observers are now actively asking why "ambiguous" automatically codes as "Caucasian" in casting breakdowns. Every little bit if awareness helps.
But what really interests me about the Katniss situation is what happened on March 17th when the choice of Lawrence was announced. "Hunger Games" isn't on everyone's radar yet. Some sites like Deadline and Aint it Cool News didn't even bother to post the news. However, Entertainment Weekly put up three articles in quick succession. One was the announcement, that was quickly flooded with unhappy "Hunger Games" fans who had a bone to pick with Jennifer Lawrence for being too old and physically well developed for the role, and definitely not racially ambiguous. The second article was an open talkback, asking for reactions to Lawrence being cast as Katniss. The third was an interview with director Gary Ross that addressed some of the most common concerns about Lawrence's ability to play the role. Ross emphasized that he had the blessing of "Hunger Games" author Suzanne Collins, and showered praise on Jennifer Lawrence. However, reactions to the article pointed out that Ross was perhaps too dismissive of concerns over Lawrence's age and race, and that some of the information about the casting criteria in the interview was contrary to what had been previously reported in other articles about the film.
Entertainment Weekly has since put up a brief partial interview with Jennifer Lawrence about her reaction to being cast as Katniss, and a letter from Suzanne Collins being explicitly supportive of the decision to cast Lawrence. Both articles seem to be targeted toward the potential audience of "The Hunger Games" and designed to quell the bad feelings that have surfaced as a result of the casting ruckus. Another tried to shift attention toward conjecture over who would play the male lead in the film. This is clearly not the first time that an upcoming production has used media puff pieces to engage in this kind of damage control. Over the weekend, the creators of the new "Wonder Woman" TV show were trying to counter criticisms of their heroine's campy new costume with positive notices from 70s Wonder Woman, Lynda Carter. However, the speed and the responsiveness of both Entertainment Weekly and the creative talent behind "The Hunger Games" film is a little breathtaking. Not only did they deign to address the grumbling of the anonymous posters on the Internet, they did so immediately and with gusto.
You could chalk it up to the entertainment media courting controversy and making mountains out of molehills, suddenly ready to declare any sort of mixed reaction to a casting decision newsworthy, where naysayers would have previously been happily ignored. Entertainment Weekly and many other entertainment news outlets have certainly been guilty of gossipmongering before, and trying to mine any kind of potential controversy for more copy and more content. But the Katniss casting issues don't feel manufactured, and the PR folks have been so swift about heading off any criticism, there's no doubt that they're taking the fan reactions very seriously. But why such defensiveness about the casting decision so quickly, with the film over a year away from release and not a frame shot yet? The LA Times and Wall Street Journal have both written articles on "The Hunger Games," taking note of the book series' unusually devoted fanbase and the potential of a film franchise to be a success at the box office. It's in the best interest of Lionsgate, which is footing the bill for the film, to quash any negative buzz from the start. There's a lot at stake, after all. Everyone involved with the film is hoping for the next "Twilight," and hoping to avoid being the next "Last Airbender."
And there's the elephant in the room. You may remember that fan reaction to the initial casting choices for "Airbender" was so toxic, bad buzz dogged the troubled film all the way up to its release a year and a half later. In that case, the initial furor was touched off by a casting announcement in - wouldn't you know it - Entertainment Weekly, which attracted hundreds of angry comments, fed into the broader Racebending casting controversy, and eventually led to hurried recasting of key roles in the film a few months later. Paramount was likely caught off guard and may have acted too slowly to save "Airbender" by ignoring or downplaying the initial complaints. Lionsgate's tactics with the "Hunger Games" casting announcement, on the other hand, reveal a far warier attitude toward the power of the internet. I expect that they prepared for any eruption of controversy well in advance, as the debates over who would play Katniss had been going on for well over a year and there were already some early criticisms of the wording of some of the casting notices. Instead of letting themselves be pummeled by the anonymous hordes, the film's PR used Entertainment Weekly to fire back and aggressively state in every article, over and over, that their decision was unbiased and the film is in good hands.
Whether that's the truth or not, of course, is an entirely different matter. But by engaging in the online discussion of the topic that would go on with or without them, Lionsgate created a much better chance for themselves to affect the public's perceptions about the decision, which I guess is the takeaway from all this. The studios are catching on and getting more serious about their marketing strategies online, even this far out in advance. I have some thoughts on how this could all end up backfiring on them, but that's a post for another day.
But what really interests me about the Katniss situation is what happened on March 17th when the choice of Lawrence was announced. "Hunger Games" isn't on everyone's radar yet. Some sites like Deadline and Aint it Cool News didn't even bother to post the news. However, Entertainment Weekly put up three articles in quick succession. One was the announcement, that was quickly flooded with unhappy "Hunger Games" fans who had a bone to pick with Jennifer Lawrence for being too old and physically well developed for the role, and definitely not racially ambiguous. The second article was an open talkback, asking for reactions to Lawrence being cast as Katniss. The third was an interview with director Gary Ross that addressed some of the most common concerns about Lawrence's ability to play the role. Ross emphasized that he had the blessing of "Hunger Games" author Suzanne Collins, and showered praise on Jennifer Lawrence. However, reactions to the article pointed out that Ross was perhaps too dismissive of concerns over Lawrence's age and race, and that some of the information about the casting criteria in the interview was contrary to what had been previously reported in other articles about the film.
Entertainment Weekly has since put up a brief partial interview with Jennifer Lawrence about her reaction to being cast as Katniss, and a letter from Suzanne Collins being explicitly supportive of the decision to cast Lawrence. Both articles seem to be targeted toward the potential audience of "The Hunger Games" and designed to quell the bad feelings that have surfaced as a result of the casting ruckus. Another tried to shift attention toward conjecture over who would play the male lead in the film. This is clearly not the first time that an upcoming production has used media puff pieces to engage in this kind of damage control. Over the weekend, the creators of the new "Wonder Woman" TV show were trying to counter criticisms of their heroine's campy new costume with positive notices from 70s Wonder Woman, Lynda Carter. However, the speed and the responsiveness of both Entertainment Weekly and the creative talent behind "The Hunger Games" film is a little breathtaking. Not only did they deign to address the grumbling of the anonymous posters on the Internet, they did so immediately and with gusto.
You could chalk it up to the entertainment media courting controversy and making mountains out of molehills, suddenly ready to declare any sort of mixed reaction to a casting decision newsworthy, where naysayers would have previously been happily ignored. Entertainment Weekly and many other entertainment news outlets have certainly been guilty of gossipmongering before, and trying to mine any kind of potential controversy for more copy and more content. But the Katniss casting issues don't feel manufactured, and the PR folks have been so swift about heading off any criticism, there's no doubt that they're taking the fan reactions very seriously. But why such defensiveness about the casting decision so quickly, with the film over a year away from release and not a frame shot yet? The LA Times and Wall Street Journal have both written articles on "The Hunger Games," taking note of the book series' unusually devoted fanbase and the potential of a film franchise to be a success at the box office. It's in the best interest of Lionsgate, which is footing the bill for the film, to quash any negative buzz from the start. There's a lot at stake, after all. Everyone involved with the film is hoping for the next "Twilight," and hoping to avoid being the next "Last Airbender."
And there's the elephant in the room. You may remember that fan reaction to the initial casting choices for "Airbender" was so toxic, bad buzz dogged the troubled film all the way up to its release a year and a half later. In that case, the initial furor was touched off by a casting announcement in - wouldn't you know it - Entertainment Weekly, which attracted hundreds of angry comments, fed into the broader Racebending casting controversy, and eventually led to hurried recasting of key roles in the film a few months later. Paramount was likely caught off guard and may have acted too slowly to save "Airbender" by ignoring or downplaying the initial complaints. Lionsgate's tactics with the "Hunger Games" casting announcement, on the other hand, reveal a far warier attitude toward the power of the internet. I expect that they prepared for any eruption of controversy well in advance, as the debates over who would play Katniss had been going on for well over a year and there were already some early criticisms of the wording of some of the casting notices. Instead of letting themselves be pummeled by the anonymous hordes, the film's PR used Entertainment Weekly to fire back and aggressively state in every article, over and over, that their decision was unbiased and the film is in good hands.
Whether that's the truth or not, of course, is an entirely different matter. But by engaging in the online discussion of the topic that would go on with or without them, Lionsgate created a much better chance for themselves to affect the public's perceptions about the decision, which I guess is the takeaway from all this. The studios are catching on and getting more serious about their marketing strategies online, even this far out in advance. I have some thoughts on how this could all end up backfiring on them, but that's a post for another day.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Glumming it With "Greenberg"
Roger Greenberg, the titular hero of Noah Baumbach's newest film, is one of the most unlikeable characters I've ever had the displeasure of watching in a movie. A graying, forty-year-old New Yorker who can't seem to let go of the 80s, who is automatically critical of everyone around him yet unable to take responsibility for anything, Greenberg frequently exasperates those closest to him. Perhaps we should make allowances based on the fact that he has just been released from a mental hospital, and is recuperating at his brother's home in Los Angeles while the family is away on vacation. Left to his own devices, he tries to reconnect with old friends Ivan (Rhys Ifans) and Beller (Mark Duplass), who he wronged fifteen years ago. He also finds himself repeatedly calling up his brother's personal assistant Florence (Greta Gerwig), one of the only people who he hasn't managed to make a bad impression on.
"Greenberg" is a decent character study of sad, lonely man forced to confront his own failings and failures, and the fact that he's getting older. However, it's not particularly engaging. Ben Stiller tries his best, but he tends to play variations on the same screen persona in all his films, and I was was never quite convinced that he was Roger Greenberg rather than simply an older, depressed Ben Stiller. Since Stiller is one of the poster-children of Gen-X, I suppose his presence lends some cultural cachet to the story, but that impact is limited. The character just isn't very well realized. We learn that Greenberg had some sort of mental breakdown, but there are few signs of this onscreen. Rather, he comes across as an immature poseur, who deals with social situations by trying to appear smarter, cooler, and more relevant than he is, and childishly lashes out whenever someone calls him on the act. He also has a lot affected quirks, like refusing to drive, writing self-righteous letters of complaint, and making dated pop-culture references, which are really unnecessary and at times counterproductive. It's only at the very end, when he is confronted with being on the wrong side of the generational divide, that we get any sense of the extent of Greenberg's damage.
Far more interesting is Greta Gerwig's performance as Florence, a young woman in her twenties who is not naive, but is perhaps too inexperienced to see past the facade that Greenberg maintains. Initially, she romanticizes his flaws. When he declares that his goal is to do "nothing," she cheers him on his new endeavor, not realizing that "nothing" is probably exactly what Greenberg has been doing for the last fifteen years. Gerwig lends a wonderful warmth and emotional transparency to character. You can almost tell exactly what she's thinking in many scenes, and how she thinks, which makes later revelations about Florence all the more surprising and effective. Like Greenberg she's also going through a rough period, but is much more resilient than he is, and better at hiding her personal problems. The film is as much hers as it is Greenberg's, fortunately, and Gerwig had me invested in the story long before Ben Stiller appears onscreen.
I've liked some of Noah Baumbach's other films with similar characters, especially "The Squid and the Whale," but I found "Greenberg" a much more difficult watch. A lot of it was predictable and tedious, and the character of Greenberg was grating to the point where it strained believability. The visual style is emphatically indie, but otherwise not very distinctive. The portrayal of this particular cultural subset of Angelenos felt right, though as with most films set in LA, I have to ask where all the minorities disappeared to. But to Baumbach's credit, there was good dialogue throughout that kept the movie going, and the ending was very strong. Also, I think "Greenberg" makes for a nice counterpoint to the nostalgia obsessed mainstream media that seems intent on resurrecting the 80s whether we like it or not. In fact, if I think of Roger Greenberg as the embodiment of the collective regressive impulses of the current batch of Hollywood studio executives, the film becomes far more interesting.
Ultimately, "Greenberg" was a good attempt by Ben Stiller to return to more serious material, which I appreciate, and I hope he keeps taking projects like this. And now I'm going to have to see that damn "Arthur" remake, because Greta Gerwig is playing the love interest (not that you cold tell from the misleading marketing), and she's certainly proved she's worth braving Russell Brand to see.
"Greenberg" is a decent character study of sad, lonely man forced to confront his own failings and failures, and the fact that he's getting older. However, it's not particularly engaging. Ben Stiller tries his best, but he tends to play variations on the same screen persona in all his films, and I was was never quite convinced that he was Roger Greenberg rather than simply an older, depressed Ben Stiller. Since Stiller is one of the poster-children of Gen-X, I suppose his presence lends some cultural cachet to the story, but that impact is limited. The character just isn't very well realized. We learn that Greenberg had some sort of mental breakdown, but there are few signs of this onscreen. Rather, he comes across as an immature poseur, who deals with social situations by trying to appear smarter, cooler, and more relevant than he is, and childishly lashes out whenever someone calls him on the act. He also has a lot affected quirks, like refusing to drive, writing self-righteous letters of complaint, and making dated pop-culture references, which are really unnecessary and at times counterproductive. It's only at the very end, when he is confronted with being on the wrong side of the generational divide, that we get any sense of the extent of Greenberg's damage.
Far more interesting is Greta Gerwig's performance as Florence, a young woman in her twenties who is not naive, but is perhaps too inexperienced to see past the facade that Greenberg maintains. Initially, she romanticizes his flaws. When he declares that his goal is to do "nothing," she cheers him on his new endeavor, not realizing that "nothing" is probably exactly what Greenberg has been doing for the last fifteen years. Gerwig lends a wonderful warmth and emotional transparency to character. You can almost tell exactly what she's thinking in many scenes, and how she thinks, which makes later revelations about Florence all the more surprising and effective. Like Greenberg she's also going through a rough period, but is much more resilient than he is, and better at hiding her personal problems. The film is as much hers as it is Greenberg's, fortunately, and Gerwig had me invested in the story long before Ben Stiller appears onscreen.
I've liked some of Noah Baumbach's other films with similar characters, especially "The Squid and the Whale," but I found "Greenberg" a much more difficult watch. A lot of it was predictable and tedious, and the character of Greenberg was grating to the point where it strained believability. The visual style is emphatically indie, but otherwise not very distinctive. The portrayal of this particular cultural subset of Angelenos felt right, though as with most films set in LA, I have to ask where all the minorities disappeared to. But to Baumbach's credit, there was good dialogue throughout that kept the movie going, and the ending was very strong. Also, I think "Greenberg" makes for a nice counterpoint to the nostalgia obsessed mainstream media that seems intent on resurrecting the 80s whether we like it or not. In fact, if I think of Roger Greenberg as the embodiment of the collective regressive impulses of the current batch of Hollywood studio executives, the film becomes far more interesting.
Ultimately, "Greenberg" was a good attempt by Ben Stiller to return to more serious material, which I appreciate, and I hope he keeps taking projects like this. And now I'm going to have to see that damn "Arthur" remake, because Greta Gerwig is playing the love interest (not that you cold tell from the misleading marketing), and she's certainly proved she's worth braving Russell Brand to see.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Where Did All the Stephen King Adaptations Go?
I'm currently reading "Just After Sunset," one of Stephen King's most recent collections of short stories. I went through a King phase in high school where I devoured a huge chunk of his literary output, and it's been nice reconnecting with the work of the beloved horror writer who once bore an uncanny resemblance to my dear Uncle Rudy. And then I came upon a disturbing realization. Aside from an announced adaptation of the famous "Dark Tower" saga, and a few low-budget direct-to-video features, there have been scarcely any television or film adaptations of Stephen King's work for the past several years.
Despite flirting with retirement a few times, King is still putting out plenty of material, but Hollywood hardly seems to be in any hurry to film any of it these days. The last theatrically released movies based on his work were "The Mist" and "1408," both from 2007, and both decent earners at the box office. Before that, you have to go all the way back to "Secret Window" from 2004. Television has been better to him. 2010 saw the premiere of the Syfy series "Haven" based on King's 2005 novel, "The Colorado Kid," which has since been renewed for a second season. Syfy also rebooted "Children of the Corn" for a made-for-TV movie in 2009. However, there have been none of the once ubiquitous Stephen King event miniseries since 2006, when the ABC adaptation of "Desperation" got creamed by "American Idol" and the TNT anthology "Nightmares and Dreamscapes" failed to gain much attention. A miniseries adaptation of "Under the Dome," King's 2009 bestseller, is supposed to be in development with Dreamworks, but there's no telling when we'll see it on television.
A few years without a major Stephen King project may seem trivial, but not if you remember the sheer volume of King adaptations and originals that came out during the late 80s and 90s. His work was the foundation of cinema classics as diverse as "The Shining," "Carrie," "Misery," "The Shawshank Redemption," and "Stand By Me." The horror film industry loved him, churning out schlock based on everything they could get the rights to, and plastering his name all over video boxes and posters, even if the movies had nothing to do with the stories they were supposedly based on. For a while in the 90s, there was a new Stephen King miniseries for sweeps every year, some based on his existing work and some that he wrote the teleplays for himself. King's name was so recognizable and his output was so prolific, everyone was adapting his stories, and people flocked to the see the results. Why they were popular was hardly a mystery. Even if they weren't very good, I remember loving "It" and "The Langoliers" and their ilk when I was younger, because they were chock-full of irresistible genre devices like killer clowns, psychic kids, and time travel. Stephen King was and still is one of the best modern fantasists we've got.
So why the dropoff in adaptations? It was probably due to a lot of things. Miniseries fell out of favor with the networks and have slowly disappeared over the last decade, edged out by cheaper reality television. Supernatural scares went out of vogue when torture porn horror films reared their ugly heads with "Saw" and "Hostel." Finally, there were several high profile flops, like 2001's "Hearts in Atlantis" and 2003's "Dreamcatcher" that signaled to many that Stephen King's name might no longer be bulletproof. And I think that toward the end, we just got too oversaturated with the crazy religious doomsayers and the terrorized small towns in Maine. Projects based on King's work are still being greenlit, but far fewer than in the past. Wikipedia tells me that there's also an "It" reboot and an adaptation of "The Talisman" forthcoming, and several other projects are stalled or on hold. It's unlikely that we're going to see any new Stephen King films before next year. And it's only now that I've noticed the absence of his work on the big screen, that I've realized I miss him.
Hollywood is so seemingly starved for new ideas these days, I find it strange that they've been ignoring one of the biggest, most consistent names in horror and urban fantasy. I'd rather watch an adaptation of any of the stories in "Just After Sunset," or one of his recent novels than another "Paranormal Activity" or "Nightmare on Elm Street" retread. Don't like his newer stuff? There's plenty of King's older stories that no one's tackled, and quite a few of the schlockier adaptations that could stand to be improved upon. I'd love to see "The Stand" with a decent budget. Or someone else's take on "Christine." If the studios are looking for big recognizable brand names to revive, they could do a lot worse than bringing Stephen King's work back into the spotlight.
As for me, I need to finish "Just After Sunset" and go hunt down a copy of "Full Dark, No Stars." I've remembered how much I love Stephen King's short stories, and I've fallen so far behind in my reading.
Despite flirting with retirement a few times, King is still putting out plenty of material, but Hollywood hardly seems to be in any hurry to film any of it these days. The last theatrically released movies based on his work were "The Mist" and "1408," both from 2007, and both decent earners at the box office. Before that, you have to go all the way back to "Secret Window" from 2004. Television has been better to him. 2010 saw the premiere of the Syfy series "Haven" based on King's 2005 novel, "The Colorado Kid," which has since been renewed for a second season. Syfy also rebooted "Children of the Corn" for a made-for-TV movie in 2009. However, there have been none of the once ubiquitous Stephen King event miniseries since 2006, when the ABC adaptation of "Desperation" got creamed by "American Idol" and the TNT anthology "Nightmares and Dreamscapes" failed to gain much attention. A miniseries adaptation of "Under the Dome," King's 2009 bestseller, is supposed to be in development with Dreamworks, but there's no telling when we'll see it on television.
A few years without a major Stephen King project may seem trivial, but not if you remember the sheer volume of King adaptations and originals that came out during the late 80s and 90s. His work was the foundation of cinema classics as diverse as "The Shining," "Carrie," "Misery," "The Shawshank Redemption," and "Stand By Me." The horror film industry loved him, churning out schlock based on everything they could get the rights to, and plastering his name all over video boxes and posters, even if the movies had nothing to do with the stories they were supposedly based on. For a while in the 90s, there was a new Stephen King miniseries for sweeps every year, some based on his existing work and some that he wrote the teleplays for himself. King's name was so recognizable and his output was so prolific, everyone was adapting his stories, and people flocked to the see the results. Why they were popular was hardly a mystery. Even if they weren't very good, I remember loving "It" and "The Langoliers" and their ilk when I was younger, because they were chock-full of irresistible genre devices like killer clowns, psychic kids, and time travel. Stephen King was and still is one of the best modern fantasists we've got.
So why the dropoff in adaptations? It was probably due to a lot of things. Miniseries fell out of favor with the networks and have slowly disappeared over the last decade, edged out by cheaper reality television. Supernatural scares went out of vogue when torture porn horror films reared their ugly heads with "Saw" and "Hostel." Finally, there were several high profile flops, like 2001's "Hearts in Atlantis" and 2003's "Dreamcatcher" that signaled to many that Stephen King's name might no longer be bulletproof. And I think that toward the end, we just got too oversaturated with the crazy religious doomsayers and the terrorized small towns in Maine. Projects based on King's work are still being greenlit, but far fewer than in the past. Wikipedia tells me that there's also an "It" reboot and an adaptation of "The Talisman" forthcoming, and several other projects are stalled or on hold. It's unlikely that we're going to see any new Stephen King films before next year. And it's only now that I've noticed the absence of his work on the big screen, that I've realized I miss him.
Hollywood is so seemingly starved for new ideas these days, I find it strange that they've been ignoring one of the biggest, most consistent names in horror and urban fantasy. I'd rather watch an adaptation of any of the stories in "Just After Sunset," or one of his recent novels than another "Paranormal Activity" or "Nightmare on Elm Street" retread. Don't like his newer stuff? There's plenty of King's older stories that no one's tackled, and quite a few of the schlockier adaptations that could stand to be improved upon. I'd love to see "The Stand" with a decent budget. Or someone else's take on "Christine." If the studios are looking for big recognizable brand names to revive, they could do a lot worse than bringing Stephen King's work back into the spotlight.
As for me, I need to finish "Just After Sunset" and go hunt down a copy of "Full Dark, No Stars." I've remembered how much I love Stephen King's short stories, and I've fallen so far behind in my reading.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
TV Love is Warping Our Brains
You always hear bout how movies have supposedly warped young girls' perceptions of romance. All those romantic comedies and fairy tale films set them up to expect impossible happily-ever-after scenarios, and raises standards for potential mates so ridiculously high, they can never possibly be reached. I'm sure this is true for some unfortunate, starry-eyed kids, but I never really bought it. There are so many other messages about love and marriage embedded in our media, especially in TV. And we all watch a lot more television than movies. Portrayals and attitudes toward relationships can be entirely different depending on what you're watching. I've included some examples below.
Sitcom Love - There are several different kinds of sitcoms, but they can be easily separated into two categories: shows where the central couple is already married or in a long-term relationship, and shows following singles. In the former case, happily-ever-after means dealing with all the day-to-day aggravation of suburban life or coupledom, usually with the added complications of in-laws, wacky neighbors, cute kids, and colorful friends. Clashes with the significant other are rarely very serious, but they are constant. Expect an awkward dinner at least once a week. If you're still single, it will take two to five years of active pining for any serious attraction to be consummated, after which your life becomes very boring very quickly. All the excitement of sexual tension evaporates the second love is reciprocated, you see. On the other hand, being single provides opportunities for romantic experiences with a parade of attractive guest stars, who never stay longer than an episode and can be instantly forgotten once they're gone.
Soap Opera Love - In addition to the multi-year pining requirement, all sorts of other obstacles can crop up between potential lovers to keep them apart. Insane ex-lovers! Scheming relatives! Horrible secrets from the past! If a couple manages to get through the obstacle course and say "I do," their happily-ever-after tends to be short-lived. Someone will be kidnapped, or have to disappear because of mob ties, or one of them turns out to be a clone. It's all very exciting when it's going on, but it's also frustrating as hell. The more perfectly matched a couple is, the less likely it is we'll ever see them happy together for any meaningful period of time. If they're totally wrong for each other, however, fate and the writers will have them in bed together within an episode and a half, usually as part of a plan to wreck whatever storybook romance is in their closest proximity at the time. To raise the chances of success with the opposite sex on a soap, your best bet is a strong career in villainy.
Crime Drama Love - Most prime time dramas are really soaps, so I thought it best to single out the crime drama, which operates by a very different set of rules. This does not include such programs as "Castle" and "Bones," which have male/female pairings as their leads, obviously intended for future romantic entanglement. No, I'm talking about the cop shows and the investigation shows that are intent on showing audiences the seedier side. If you're a hero or a principal player, you're asexual. Love lives are kept almost entirely offscreen, unless somebody's significant other needs to be kidnapped or killed off for a season finale. If you're a suspect or a victim, your love life is a train wreck. Crime dramas are hotbeds for romance gone awry, or happily-ever-after endings that turned out horribly, horribly wrong. Falling in love leads to anguish and trauma and getting read your Miranda rights - if you haven't already been pushed out a window or shot in the head.
Reality TV Love - The newest television genre is also one of the most versatile. You have the dating shows, where the only way to find love is to put your potential paramours through a long series of contrived contests, usually determined by luck and a willingness to embarrass oneself. Winners get the headliner until the next season of the show rolls around, and castoffs often get a chance to be the prize themselves. You have the freak shows, with titles commonly prepended by the words "The Real Housewives of," which suggest that a spouse is of secondary importance to material possessions and well-honed catfighting skills. Occasionally you will have the gentler documentaries about love in adversity, following dwarf couples, couples who never heard of birth control, and couples flaunting bigamy laws - until they inevitably become shows about lawsuits and breakups and why it's a bad idea to expose your personal life to a media circus.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Easily the television show that had the most impact on me in my formative years. "Buffy" had a little of everything. Buffy and Angel got the storybook romance, very short-lived of course. Xander braved a rough, demon-infested dating scene before, before he finally found the right hellspawn to settle down with - and then chickened out in the end. Willow had an adorable high school fling with werewolf boy Oz, but realized she liked girls when she got to college. Spike and Drusilla proved that even the most stable, centuries-long relationship based on mutual bloodlust and evildoing couldn't stand up to infidelity. Spike and Buffy were so very wrong for each other, which is probably why they were so much fun to watch. But what I really loved about "Buffy" was that there was ultimately no perfect person for anyone. The characters changed, they grew up, got over crushes and breakups, and their relationships changed with them. Destiny usually didn't work out and there were never happy endings, but nobody ever gave up on love either.
So yes, most TV romances are terribly unrealistic and shouldn't be taken at face value. But there are a few shows that can be candid and have some good insights into relationships and still be entertaining. Our media may be rife with skewed depictions of love and marriage, but there's good in there along with the bad. And sometimes a little idealism can be helpful. I mean, if hopelessly shallow kids like Bella and Edward from "Twilight" can be happy together, maybe the rest of us can find somebody to love too.
Sitcom Love - There are several different kinds of sitcoms, but they can be easily separated into two categories: shows where the central couple is already married or in a long-term relationship, and shows following singles. In the former case, happily-ever-after means dealing with all the day-to-day aggravation of suburban life or coupledom, usually with the added complications of in-laws, wacky neighbors, cute kids, and colorful friends. Clashes with the significant other are rarely very serious, but they are constant. Expect an awkward dinner at least once a week. If you're still single, it will take two to five years of active pining for any serious attraction to be consummated, after which your life becomes very boring very quickly. All the excitement of sexual tension evaporates the second love is reciprocated, you see. On the other hand, being single provides opportunities for romantic experiences with a parade of attractive guest stars, who never stay longer than an episode and can be instantly forgotten once they're gone.
Soap Opera Love - In addition to the multi-year pining requirement, all sorts of other obstacles can crop up between potential lovers to keep them apart. Insane ex-lovers! Scheming relatives! Horrible secrets from the past! If a couple manages to get through the obstacle course and say "I do," their happily-ever-after tends to be short-lived. Someone will be kidnapped, or have to disappear because of mob ties, or one of them turns out to be a clone. It's all very exciting when it's going on, but it's also frustrating as hell. The more perfectly matched a couple is, the less likely it is we'll ever see them happy together for any meaningful period of time. If they're totally wrong for each other, however, fate and the writers will have them in bed together within an episode and a half, usually as part of a plan to wreck whatever storybook romance is in their closest proximity at the time. To raise the chances of success with the opposite sex on a soap, your best bet is a strong career in villainy.
Crime Drama Love - Most prime time dramas are really soaps, so I thought it best to single out the crime drama, which operates by a very different set of rules. This does not include such programs as "Castle" and "Bones," which have male/female pairings as their leads, obviously intended for future romantic entanglement. No, I'm talking about the cop shows and the investigation shows that are intent on showing audiences the seedier side. If you're a hero or a principal player, you're asexual. Love lives are kept almost entirely offscreen, unless somebody's significant other needs to be kidnapped or killed off for a season finale. If you're a suspect or a victim, your love life is a train wreck. Crime dramas are hotbeds for romance gone awry, or happily-ever-after endings that turned out horribly, horribly wrong. Falling in love leads to anguish and trauma and getting read your Miranda rights - if you haven't already been pushed out a window or shot in the head.
Reality TV Love - The newest television genre is also one of the most versatile. You have the dating shows, where the only way to find love is to put your potential paramours through a long series of contrived contests, usually determined by luck and a willingness to embarrass oneself. Winners get the headliner until the next season of the show rolls around, and castoffs often get a chance to be the prize themselves. You have the freak shows, with titles commonly prepended by the words "The Real Housewives of," which suggest that a spouse is of secondary importance to material possessions and well-honed catfighting skills. Occasionally you will have the gentler documentaries about love in adversity, following dwarf couples, couples who never heard of birth control, and couples flaunting bigamy laws - until they inevitably become shows about lawsuits and breakups and why it's a bad idea to expose your personal life to a media circus.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Easily the television show that had the most impact on me in my formative years. "Buffy" had a little of everything. Buffy and Angel got the storybook romance, very short-lived of course. Xander braved a rough, demon-infested dating scene before, before he finally found the right hellspawn to settle down with - and then chickened out in the end. Willow had an adorable high school fling with werewolf boy Oz, but realized she liked girls when she got to college. Spike and Drusilla proved that even the most stable, centuries-long relationship based on mutual bloodlust and evildoing couldn't stand up to infidelity. Spike and Buffy were so very wrong for each other, which is probably why they were so much fun to watch. But what I really loved about "Buffy" was that there was ultimately no perfect person for anyone. The characters changed, they grew up, got over crushes and breakups, and their relationships changed with them. Destiny usually didn't work out and there were never happy endings, but nobody ever gave up on love either.
So yes, most TV romances are terribly unrealistic and shouldn't be taken at face value. But there are a few shows that can be candid and have some good insights into relationships and still be entertaining. Our media may be rife with skewed depictions of love and marriage, but there's good in there along with the bad. And sometimes a little idealism can be helpful. I mean, if hopelessly shallow kids like Bella and Edward from "Twilight" can be happy together, maybe the rest of us can find somebody to love too.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
"Cyrus" is Nothing to Cringe At
"Cyrus" is one of the 2010 titles I had been dreading. I'm not a big fan of the Idiot Manchild genre of comedy, and "Cyrus" appeared to have all the earmarks of one. The title character, played by Jonah Hill, is a hefty young man in his twenties who has never left home and enjoys a too-close relationship with his single mother, Molly (Marissa Tomei). He serves as a primary adversary for John (John C. O'Reilly), a divorcee who is finally emerging from a long romantic rut and wants to pursue a relationship with Molly. At first John and Cyrus are perfectly civil with each other, but as John and Molly grow closer, Cyrus grows more hostile, the situation escalates, and finally all out war is declared. The plot may seem simple and familiar, but the execution is great.
The nice thing about "Cyrus" is that none of the characters are idiots. They all have their personality flaws, and display certain traits that point to some deeper personal issues, but nobody is especially dull or unreasonable. Rather, John, Molly, and Cyrus are all articulate, self-aware, and they communicate with each other very well. Neither are they cartoon caricatures, who will resort to violence at the drop of a hat or engage in over-the-top behavior simply for the sake of getting a laugh. This doesn't mean that there are no laughs in the movie. There are plenty. But "Cyrus" operates largely in the realm of low-key observational humor, eschewing crassness and humiliation tactics in favor of subtler stuff. When something more typically farcical does happen, there's a nice realism to the dialogue, the interactions and reactions, that set the movie apart. At the same time, the dramatic side of the story gets just as much care and attention. The film spends a significant amount of its running time setting up John and Molly's romance, and Cyrus doesn't even appear onscreen until at least twenty minutes in.
I was surprised how much I liked and became emotionally invested in all the characters. Hill and O'Reilly both give performances that can be seen as more sincere variations on their more oafish, shallow roles. When you take away the extremes usually found in a mainstream comedy, it's easier to see how sad and emotionally vulnerable these guys are. Cyrus is creepy, relying on deceit and passive-aggressive behavior to sabotage his mother's relationship. However, you understand why he is the way he is, and that he acts out of desperation, not any sort of innate meanness. John is actually more awkward than Cyrus, still clingy with his patient ex-wife Jamie (Catherine Keener), and a bit of a social disaster at the start of the movie. We root for him to better himself and take the high road, because he comes across as a real person, rather than a walking source of pratfalls. Molly gets the least amount of development, which is an unfortunately necessity because of the way the plot works. However, she certainly isn't any less damaged or less interesting than the other two, and I wanted to see more of her.
This is my first encounter with the work of the Duplass brothers, Jay and Mark, who are among the founders of the low-budget "mumblecore" movement, and have become fixtures of the indie cinema circuit. I'm convinced of their talent as writers, but not as directors yet. Their style is starkly realistic, including many shots with handheld digital cameras. There are a few places where the camera movement is distracting, especially the quick-zooms on characters' faces. Apparently they toned down their usual mumblecore aesthetic for "Cyrus" to make it more palatable to mainstream audiences, but there's still a very unfiltered, stripped-down sensibility to the production that fits the scope of the story. They get the tone right, which is vital, and I was surprised at how naturally the emotional ending played out. There's no cynicism here, a rarity these days, which I appreciated very much.
It's hard to call "Cyrus" a great film, because it's such a small story of very limited scope and ambition. It's a very good one, no doubt, and gives me hope that perhaps the American dramedy is isn't limited to Judd Apatow's vulgarities, or the fanciful whims of Wes Anderson and his hipster brethren, or the defensive sarcasm of Noah Baumbach and Reitman the Younger. They're not in the same league yet, but I think I like where these Duplass guys are going, and I'll be on the lookout for their future films.
The nice thing about "Cyrus" is that none of the characters are idiots. They all have their personality flaws, and display certain traits that point to some deeper personal issues, but nobody is especially dull or unreasonable. Rather, John, Molly, and Cyrus are all articulate, self-aware, and they communicate with each other very well. Neither are they cartoon caricatures, who will resort to violence at the drop of a hat or engage in over-the-top behavior simply for the sake of getting a laugh. This doesn't mean that there are no laughs in the movie. There are plenty. But "Cyrus" operates largely in the realm of low-key observational humor, eschewing crassness and humiliation tactics in favor of subtler stuff. When something more typically farcical does happen, there's a nice realism to the dialogue, the interactions and reactions, that set the movie apart. At the same time, the dramatic side of the story gets just as much care and attention. The film spends a significant amount of its running time setting up John and Molly's romance, and Cyrus doesn't even appear onscreen until at least twenty minutes in.
I was surprised how much I liked and became emotionally invested in all the characters. Hill and O'Reilly both give performances that can be seen as more sincere variations on their more oafish, shallow roles. When you take away the extremes usually found in a mainstream comedy, it's easier to see how sad and emotionally vulnerable these guys are. Cyrus is creepy, relying on deceit and passive-aggressive behavior to sabotage his mother's relationship. However, you understand why he is the way he is, and that he acts out of desperation, not any sort of innate meanness. John is actually more awkward than Cyrus, still clingy with his patient ex-wife Jamie (Catherine Keener), and a bit of a social disaster at the start of the movie. We root for him to better himself and take the high road, because he comes across as a real person, rather than a walking source of pratfalls. Molly gets the least amount of development, which is an unfortunately necessity because of the way the plot works. However, she certainly isn't any less damaged or less interesting than the other two, and I wanted to see more of her.
This is my first encounter with the work of the Duplass brothers, Jay and Mark, who are among the founders of the low-budget "mumblecore" movement, and have become fixtures of the indie cinema circuit. I'm convinced of their talent as writers, but not as directors yet. Their style is starkly realistic, including many shots with handheld digital cameras. There are a few places where the camera movement is distracting, especially the quick-zooms on characters' faces. Apparently they toned down their usual mumblecore aesthetic for "Cyrus" to make it more palatable to mainstream audiences, but there's still a very unfiltered, stripped-down sensibility to the production that fits the scope of the story. They get the tone right, which is vital, and I was surprised at how naturally the emotional ending played out. There's no cynicism here, a rarity these days, which I appreciated very much.
It's hard to call "Cyrus" a great film, because it's such a small story of very limited scope and ambition. It's a very good one, no doubt, and gives me hope that perhaps the American dramedy is isn't limited to Judd Apatow's vulgarities, or the fanciful whims of Wes Anderson and his hipster brethren, or the defensive sarcasm of Noah Baumbach and Reitman the Younger. They're not in the same league yet, but I think I like where these Duplass guys are going, and I'll be on the lookout for their future films.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
When a Delay Can Be a Good Thing
I've come to the point where I'm actually happy when certain ambitious movie and television projects, long-simmering in development hell, fail to go forward. Late yesterday, the news came in that the proposed CW "Sandman" television series and the planned "Yellow Submarine" motion-capture animated film have both been stymied. "Sandman," based on the Vertigo comic by Neil Gaiman, was being touted as a potential replacement for the CW network's long-running "Supernatural." Now it looks like a new "Wonder Woman" is the most likely contender. "Yellow Submarine" was supposed to be an animated musical based on Beatles songs, but since "Mars Needs Mom" became one of the biggest bombs of all time, Disney has passed on any more mo-cap animated features. These projects may still go forward at some point, but their chances don't look very good. I thought both looked problematic from the start, so I couldn't be more relieved about this turn of events.
You always hear about the long, arduous process that some films have to endure to make it to the big screen. The trouble is, a long development period is no guarantee that the final product will be any good. Plans for an "I, Robot" movie had been knocking around Hollywood since at least the 70s, when studios were scrambling to find the next "Star Wars," and the film that was ultimately made in 2004 with Will Smith was based on a ten-year-old treatment. Last year's "The Tooth Fairy," started development in 1992, when it was originally intended to be an Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle. Both movies are terrible, an absolute waste of all that time and effort. Sometime it seems to be pure dumb luck that a long-gestating project finds the right script, director, and stars at just the right time. Too often, it all goes wrong. I still wonder what "Watchman" would have looked like if Terry Gilliam had made it instead of Zack Snyder. Or if Martin Scorsese's "Alexander the Great" had gotten off the ground with Leonardo DiCaprio, instead of Oliver Stone's ill-fated "Alexander" with Colin Farrell.
Having been burned too many times, I've gotten much warier over the years whenever anyone starts talking up a project that is finally clawing its way out of development hell. Sure, I'd like to see a "Preacher" movie as much as anyone else, but do I want to see one helmed by the director of "I Am Number Four"? And yes, I'm a "Sandman" fan who has been following every rumor about a film or TV project since the 90s, but am I happy that Warners is trying to turn it into a teen-friendly hourlong for the CW network? No on both counts. Everybody daydreams about seeing their favorite properties brought to screen, but those dreams usually involve projects with faithful scripts, good talent onboard, and being targeted to the appropriate audiences. Last week, Guillermo Del Toro wasn't able to move forward with his long anticipated "The Mountains of Madness," because the studio balked at the R rating. I'm of the opinion that Del Toro was right not to compromise. If "Madness" couldn't be done the way he wanted, he was better off waiting for another chance.
There are benefits to waiting, after all. Sometimes you get a slow burner like "Tangled," which was the culmination of at least a decade of effort to bring "Rapunzel" to the big screen, and went through all sorts of different iterations. At one point it was supposed to feature mo-cap animation. At one point the two leads were supposed to be modern-day kids who were transmogrified into fairy-tale characters. Several of these early versions sound pretty weak, and the finished product clearly benefited from all the delays. CGI technology got better, the mainstream culture grew more receptive to animation, and the industry recovered from a very low point in 2004. If it had been made during that time, the movie would have been a disaster. Looking back at all the production delays and the creative clashing that was going on behind the scenes, it feels like a minor miracle that "Tangled" turned out to be a decent animated feature.
And I guess that sentiment plays into the easier acceptance of these delays and cancellations too. It takes so much time and effort to get anything greenlit these days, and there's so much riding on some of these big projects, sometimes you have to wonder why anyone would settle for mediocrity. I can think of a dozen major motion pictures from last year that should have been sent back for more script rewrites, or left in development for a few more years, or had completely inappropriate people attached. When a film is delayed, at least you have assurances that someone is keeping an eye on what's going on, instead of letting a production barrel out of control to meet a predetermined release date. Sometimes good art takes time. If it takes James Cameron another decade to finally make "Battle Angel Alita" or more "Avatar" sequels, fine. If Terrence Malick wants to futz with "The Tree of Life" for another year, great.
If it's for the good stuff, I never mind waiting. "Sandman" and "Yellow Submarine" are sure to surface again in other forms, and hopefully better ones.
You always hear about the long, arduous process that some films have to endure to make it to the big screen. The trouble is, a long development period is no guarantee that the final product will be any good. Plans for an "I, Robot" movie had been knocking around Hollywood since at least the 70s, when studios were scrambling to find the next "Star Wars," and the film that was ultimately made in 2004 with Will Smith was based on a ten-year-old treatment. Last year's "The Tooth Fairy," started development in 1992, when it was originally intended to be an Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle. Both movies are terrible, an absolute waste of all that time and effort. Sometime it seems to be pure dumb luck that a long-gestating project finds the right script, director, and stars at just the right time. Too often, it all goes wrong. I still wonder what "Watchman" would have looked like if Terry Gilliam had made it instead of Zack Snyder. Or if Martin Scorsese's "Alexander the Great" had gotten off the ground with Leonardo DiCaprio, instead of Oliver Stone's ill-fated "Alexander" with Colin Farrell.
Having been burned too many times, I've gotten much warier over the years whenever anyone starts talking up a project that is finally clawing its way out of development hell. Sure, I'd like to see a "Preacher" movie as much as anyone else, but do I want to see one helmed by the director of "I Am Number Four"? And yes, I'm a "Sandman" fan who has been following every rumor about a film or TV project since the 90s, but am I happy that Warners is trying to turn it into a teen-friendly hourlong for the CW network? No on both counts. Everybody daydreams about seeing their favorite properties brought to screen, but those dreams usually involve projects with faithful scripts, good talent onboard, and being targeted to the appropriate audiences. Last week, Guillermo Del Toro wasn't able to move forward with his long anticipated "The Mountains of Madness," because the studio balked at the R rating. I'm of the opinion that Del Toro was right not to compromise. If "Madness" couldn't be done the way he wanted, he was better off waiting for another chance.
There are benefits to waiting, after all. Sometimes you get a slow burner like "Tangled," which was the culmination of at least a decade of effort to bring "Rapunzel" to the big screen, and went through all sorts of different iterations. At one point it was supposed to feature mo-cap animation. At one point the two leads were supposed to be modern-day kids who were transmogrified into fairy-tale characters. Several of these early versions sound pretty weak, and the finished product clearly benefited from all the delays. CGI technology got better, the mainstream culture grew more receptive to animation, and the industry recovered from a very low point in 2004. If it had been made during that time, the movie would have been a disaster. Looking back at all the production delays and the creative clashing that was going on behind the scenes, it feels like a minor miracle that "Tangled" turned out to be a decent animated feature.
And I guess that sentiment plays into the easier acceptance of these delays and cancellations too. It takes so much time and effort to get anything greenlit these days, and there's so much riding on some of these big projects, sometimes you have to wonder why anyone would settle for mediocrity. I can think of a dozen major motion pictures from last year that should have been sent back for more script rewrites, or left in development for a few more years, or had completely inappropriate people attached. When a film is delayed, at least you have assurances that someone is keeping an eye on what's going on, instead of letting a production barrel out of control to meet a predetermined release date. Sometimes good art takes time. If it takes James Cameron another decade to finally make "Battle Angel Alita" or more "Avatar" sequels, fine. If Terrence Malick wants to futz with "The Tree of Life" for another year, great.
If it's for the good stuff, I never mind waiting. "Sandman" and "Yellow Submarine" are sure to surface again in other forms, and hopefully better ones.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
