I've never appreciated summer comedies so much, and streamers Netflix and Hulu have delivered this year. Some mild spoilers lie ahead.
Let's start with the off-kilter romantic comedy "Palm Springs," starring Andy Samberg and Cristin Milioti as Nyles and Sarah, who are both attending a wedding. Sarah is the maid of honor and sister of the bride, Tala (Camila Mendes), while Nyles is the boyfriend of Misty (Meredith Hagner), one of the bridesmaids. Nyles and Sarah are, of course, on a collision course with each other, though there are some considerable personal issues they have to work through. Nyles is stuck in the mother of all ruts, bored with his existence, and largely just does what he wants without any thought of consequences. Misty's life is a mess, and she can't escape a series of terrible choices she's made. Both of them are pretty terrible people, but the type of terrible people who are a lot of fun to watch.
"Palm Springs" is the latest production of Lonely Island, and it's the first feature for both the screenwriter, Andy Siara, and the director, Max Barbakow. The filmmakers manage to take a premise we've seen over and over again and give it some new twists, largely through the use of meta elements and a lot of absurdity. Nyles and Sarah's demented courtship gets them into all sorts of unexpected situations, from barfights and dance routines, to tangling with a very persistent, revenge-minded fellow named Roy (J.K. Simmons). There's a lot of unexpected detail to characters' patterns of behaviors which have some great payoffs and punchlines. Keep in mind that while this is ultimately a romantic comedy at its core, it's the comedy that gets all the attention, and its very much Lonely Island style snark with a bit of a mean streak. Samberg and Milioti make a good pairing, but their characters are both very prickly and the actual romance is kept to a bare minimum. And that's just fine.
Now on to "Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga," which is a genial spoof on the annual televised international song competition that most Americans have never heard of. Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams star as Lars Erickssong and Sigrit Ericksdóttir, the members of the band Fire Saga. They're Icelandic Eurovision hopefuls who are your typical small town kids with big dreams - though rapidly approaching middle age. Lars is obsessed with Eurovision, desperate to overcome his reputation as a failure and prove himself to his disapproving father Erick (Pierce Brosnan). One thing leads to another, and Fire Saga gets their shot. On the international stage, they encounter new friends and rivals, including the sexy Greek contestant Mita Xenakis (Melissanthi Mahut), and the sexy and very suspicious Russian, Alexander Lemtov (Dan Stevens). Longtime BBC presenter and Eurovision commentator Graham Norton is also on hand, of course.
"Eurovision" falls in line with Ferrell's prior comedies like "Blades of Glory," "Anchorman," and "Talladega Nights: The Legend of Ricky Bobby." "Eurovision" is a little less crass and a little more family friendly, but Ferrell is doing his usual overgrown manchild schtick despite serious diminishing returns. Rachel McAdams is more fun, and I'm glad that she's getting more comedy roles, because she's delightful in these kookier, sillier parts. And "Eurovision" is a deeply, deeply silly movie. It totally plays up the camp value of the show and the usual rising star tropes, while adding all sorts of wacky elements like Lars being haunted by the ghost of a former contestant, and Sigrit earnestly believing in elves. Dan Stevens frequently steals the show as the flamboyant Russian who is hiding a big secret very badly. The film is fairly well written with a bunch of solid running jokes and a nice, heartfelt finale.
It's a "Eurovision" movie, so expect plenty of songs and performances. Many of the numbers are surprisingly catchy, and make for good earworms. Most of the actors had their singing dubbed by professionals, and there are a few fun cameos from prior Eurovision contestants and other entertainers. And Eurovision fans need not worry - everyone is in on the joke, and the show is treated with loving affection by the filmmakers. I wouldn't be surprised if the contest actually picked up some new fans because of this.
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Friday, October 16, 2020
Wednesday, October 14, 2020
My Top Ten Films of 1963
This is part of my continuing series looking back on films from the years before I began this blog. The ten films below are unranked and listed in no particular order. Enjoy.
8 ½ - Fellini's self-examination through cinema is a magnificent culmination of so many of the director's best impulses and filmmaking ideas. It's also his most cinematically adventurous, mixing fantasy, reality, the personal, the fictional, and the symbolic. This may be the first Fellini film that properly feels "Felliniesque," with its wildly freewheeling style, wonderfully mobile camera, and the parade of circus imagery. The movie contains one of my favorite endings of all time, one that is simultaneously a beautiful summation of Fellini's worldview and a piece of spectacle that could only exist in the movies.
The Big City - This is my favorite Satyajiit Ray film, a great example of a culturally specific story being told in very universal terms. We watch the members of a family adjust to changing economic and social realities in India at a particular point in time - allowing the wife to join the working world and putting her husband and father-in-law in existential crisis. It's such a beautifully balanced film, juggling multiple main characters and viewpoints, and handling its themes with nuance and consideration. It may look like a typical social drama at first glance, but demonstrates over and over that Ray has more on his mind.
Charade - This is a perfect combination of romantic comedy and Hitchcockian thriller, starring Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant. They are exactly the right pair to sustain the mood of suspense and romantic tension as they race around Paris trying to evade assassins and solve a mystery. Add one of Henry Mancini's best scores and a delightful Peter Stone script full of twists on top of twists, and the film feels effortlessly charming and buoyant. It's difficult to appreciate how well made and nimble "Charade" is until you look at all the subsequent films that have tried and failed to imitate it over the years.
Winter Light - One of Ingmar Bergman's quieter, introspective films on the themes of faith and doubt. A pastor struggles through a crisis of faith, and has encounters with various parishioners as he tries to grapple with his inner demons. This is a very grounded film, taking place in the present day and dealing with modern concerns. It's often viewed as Bergman's final word on the existence of God, but there are no clear answers - just the continuing fight against doubt and dread. It's the kind of cinema about Christianity that I appreciate more over time, as this kind of film is so rarely made anymore.
Passenger - The unfinished Andrzej Munk film examines the power struggle between two women who first met as a female prisoner and a female guard at Auschwitz. The story itself is absorbing, and contains very good performances from the two leads. However, the decision to release the film in its unfinished state is much more fascinating, since the documentary elements and the explanatory framing device employed by directors Witold Lesiewicz and Andrzej Brzozowski, who assembled Munk's incomplete footage, give a sort of unique found-footage effect to the presentation I've never seen duplicated.
Judex - Georges Franju's homage to the silent era and the work of Louis Feuillade is better than the original. The little touches of surrealism, especially the party scene with the bird masks, are fabulous. The leading man, Channing Pollock, was one of the preeminent magicians of his time, and brings just the right amount of style and showmanship to the main character, the masked vigilante Judex. While I appreciate the serials that this was based on, the technical limitations always kept me from embracing them fully. "Judex," however, successfully updates the material while retaining the thrills and mystery.
The Leopard - Luchino Visconti's historical epic examines the twilight of the Sicilian nobility in 1860, on the eve of revolution and a new social order. He considers both the high and the low classes against the backdrop of Italian history, combining insightful social commentary with lavish spectacle. The famous ball sequence is one of the highlights of Italian cinema, not because of the grandeur of the art direction or the scale of the production, but because of the wistful nostalgia of the portrayal. It's Burt Lancaster's Prince, walking alone through the celebration, realizing his time is over, and seeing the end of his era.
The Great Escape - An all-star WWII escape film that makes for an unlikely crowd pleaser. It's three hours long, and doesn't end happily for most of the characters. However, it's also a perfectly constructed heist story that celebrates the ingenuity and gumption of its heroes, and puts Steve McQueen on a motorcycle in the last act where he belongs. A great deal of its appeal is its simplicity - there are few side plots, characters are kept sparse and iconic, and you always know who you're rooting for. It's a long, tense buildup to one of the best finales of the genre, and it's done just right.
The Fire Within - Nobody broods on film the way Louis Malle's characters do. And so it is with the protagonist of "The Fire Within," a depressed young man who wanders around Paris, deciding whether or not to kill himself. Accompanied by Erik Satie's piano music, we watch his adventures unfold - a journey of increasing alienation and distance from the rest of society. It's a glum, introspective movie, but also a beautifully intimate experience. You can see Malle working through many of his own existential questions in the film, and exploring the ins and outs of a Paris that he clearly loves.
The Birds - Leave it to Alfred Hitchcock to turn a B-movie premise into one of the great horror pictures of the '60s. There's no reason given for why the birds turn on us, no logic, no message, and no real narrative beyond the humans wanting to stay alive. And as a result, "The Birds" offers a purely visceral thrill. Nobody remembers the names of the characters or the particulars of their relationships, but everyone remembers the crows on the jungle gym and the seagulls attacking the phone booth. Everyone remembers the terror and the unease that linger long after the film is over.
Honorable mention
Lilies of the Field
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8 ½ - Fellini's self-examination through cinema is a magnificent culmination of so many of the director's best impulses and filmmaking ideas. It's also his most cinematically adventurous, mixing fantasy, reality, the personal, the fictional, and the symbolic. This may be the first Fellini film that properly feels "Felliniesque," with its wildly freewheeling style, wonderfully mobile camera, and the parade of circus imagery. The movie contains one of my favorite endings of all time, one that is simultaneously a beautiful summation of Fellini's worldview and a piece of spectacle that could only exist in the movies.
The Big City - This is my favorite Satyajiit Ray film, a great example of a culturally specific story being told in very universal terms. We watch the members of a family adjust to changing economic and social realities in India at a particular point in time - allowing the wife to join the working world and putting her husband and father-in-law in existential crisis. It's such a beautifully balanced film, juggling multiple main characters and viewpoints, and handling its themes with nuance and consideration. It may look like a typical social drama at first glance, but demonstrates over and over that Ray has more on his mind.
Charade - This is a perfect combination of romantic comedy and Hitchcockian thriller, starring Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant. They are exactly the right pair to sustain the mood of suspense and romantic tension as they race around Paris trying to evade assassins and solve a mystery. Add one of Henry Mancini's best scores and a delightful Peter Stone script full of twists on top of twists, and the film feels effortlessly charming and buoyant. It's difficult to appreciate how well made and nimble "Charade" is until you look at all the subsequent films that have tried and failed to imitate it over the years.
Winter Light - One of Ingmar Bergman's quieter, introspective films on the themes of faith and doubt. A pastor struggles through a crisis of faith, and has encounters with various parishioners as he tries to grapple with his inner demons. This is a very grounded film, taking place in the present day and dealing with modern concerns. It's often viewed as Bergman's final word on the existence of God, but there are no clear answers - just the continuing fight against doubt and dread. It's the kind of cinema about Christianity that I appreciate more over time, as this kind of film is so rarely made anymore.
Passenger - The unfinished Andrzej Munk film examines the power struggle between two women who first met as a female prisoner and a female guard at Auschwitz. The story itself is absorbing, and contains very good performances from the two leads. However, the decision to release the film in its unfinished state is much more fascinating, since the documentary elements and the explanatory framing device employed by directors Witold Lesiewicz and Andrzej Brzozowski, who assembled Munk's incomplete footage, give a sort of unique found-footage effect to the presentation I've never seen duplicated.
Judex - Georges Franju's homage to the silent era and the work of Louis Feuillade is better than the original. The little touches of surrealism, especially the party scene with the bird masks, are fabulous. The leading man, Channing Pollock, was one of the preeminent magicians of his time, and brings just the right amount of style and showmanship to the main character, the masked vigilante Judex. While I appreciate the serials that this was based on, the technical limitations always kept me from embracing them fully. "Judex," however, successfully updates the material while retaining the thrills and mystery.
The Leopard - Luchino Visconti's historical epic examines the twilight of the Sicilian nobility in 1860, on the eve of revolution and a new social order. He considers both the high and the low classes against the backdrop of Italian history, combining insightful social commentary with lavish spectacle. The famous ball sequence is one of the highlights of Italian cinema, not because of the grandeur of the art direction or the scale of the production, but because of the wistful nostalgia of the portrayal. It's Burt Lancaster's Prince, walking alone through the celebration, realizing his time is over, and seeing the end of his era.
The Great Escape - An all-star WWII escape film that makes for an unlikely crowd pleaser. It's three hours long, and doesn't end happily for most of the characters. However, it's also a perfectly constructed heist story that celebrates the ingenuity and gumption of its heroes, and puts Steve McQueen on a motorcycle in the last act where he belongs. A great deal of its appeal is its simplicity - there are few side plots, characters are kept sparse and iconic, and you always know who you're rooting for. It's a long, tense buildup to one of the best finales of the genre, and it's done just right.
The Fire Within - Nobody broods on film the way Louis Malle's characters do. And so it is with the protagonist of "The Fire Within," a depressed young man who wanders around Paris, deciding whether or not to kill himself. Accompanied by Erik Satie's piano music, we watch his adventures unfold - a journey of increasing alienation and distance from the rest of society. It's a glum, introspective movie, but also a beautifully intimate experience. You can see Malle working through many of his own existential questions in the film, and exploring the ins and outs of a Paris that he clearly loves.
The Birds - Leave it to Alfred Hitchcock to turn a B-movie premise into one of the great horror pictures of the '60s. There's no reason given for why the birds turn on us, no logic, no message, and no real narrative beyond the humans wanting to stay alive. And as a result, "The Birds" offers a purely visceral thrill. Nobody remembers the names of the characters or the particulars of their relationships, but everyone remembers the crows on the jungle gym and the seagulls attacking the phone booth. Everyone remembers the terror and the unease that linger long after the film is over.
Honorable mention
Lilies of the Field
---
Monday, October 12, 2020
So, How Much of a Problem is "Cuties"?
First things first. I've seen the film. I liked the film. The controversial dance scenes do work in context, though I found them uncomfortable to watch and in poor taste - deliberately so. Still, I doubt the film would have suffered much if they'd been toned down.
For those of you who have somehow not heard, Netflix recently premiered the French film "Cuties" on its service, about the travails of an eleven year-old Senegalese Muslim immigrant girl named Amy (Fathia Youssouf) who is growing up in France. She finds her traditional home life stifling, and becomes fixated on a group of girls from her school who have formed an amateur dance group - the Cuties. Amy befriends the girls and starts dressing in more revealing clothes. She steals a phone and finds videos online of adult dancers, who she copies. As she becomes more and more rebellious, her home life starts falling apart. When she posts a pornographic photo on social media, she's rejected by the Cuties. The film has drawn criticism for having the young actresses perform sexually suggestive dance moves onscreen, some involving simulated sex, though these scenes are meant to be viewed as shocking and disturbing.
It's been fascinating to see how a fairly obscure French art film has blown up into a moral outrage in America. "Cuties" director Maïmouna Doucouré intended to depict the difficulties of navigating modern girlhood, reflecting her own background as a Senegalese immigrant. The girls are shown to be exposed to sexually charged images and copying them without understanding what they're doing. Amy receives mostly positive reactions to her efforts up until she unwittingly goes too far, and then the consequences are dire. The film is clearly against sexualizing preteen girls - except that the filmmakers may have ended up sexualizing preteen girls in the course of making the film. But while I agree that the filmmakers crossed a line and deserve criticism, none of the film's content is sexuallly explicit, and the incendiary reaction has been totally out of proportion. The Netflix marketing of "Cuties" was the first to draw fire, with a poster showing the girls in their skimpy dance outfits in the middle of a performance. Then trailers and clips of the dance performances started circulating - mostly out of context - and Doucouré started getting death threats.
So, we have a couple of different things to keep in mind here. First, "Cuties" is a film that probably never would have been made in the U.S., where the culture around sex and sexuality is very different from France. You can suggest all the perversity you like in the U.S., but even the tamest sexual acts are rarely depicted diretly, and any perceived danger to children can sink a project. Still, these content controversies come up every few years, usually involving coming-of-age films featuring underage kids exploring their sexuality. The thing is, these are usually tiny indie and art house films, like Larry Clark's "Ken Park," that play very limited audiences. In the past, most of these films would get into a ratings fight with an MPAA, get a tiny release, and then disappear into obscurity. "Cuties," on the other hand, was sold like something for general audiences. Because it was on Netflix, it skipped the MPAA entirely, as well as the layers and layers of censorship and curation that a piece of media has to go through to be shown on traditional TV platforms. Netflix released "Cuties" with a TV-MA rating, but its ad campaign made it look similar to shows like "Cheer" and "Dance Moms" that feature young performers and are for general audiences.
I think it's that disconnect more than anything else that is fanning the flames here. Most of the people angriest about "Cuties" have not watched the film, and don't watch similar content. It's perfectly legitimate to be upset about the preteen and teenage actresses who participated in the film being put into a compromising position by the filmmakers. However, the calls to cancel Netflix won't stop films like this from being made. The French film industry is totally behind Doucouré, and there has not been a similar outrage around "Cuties" in France. The only thing that will happen if Netflix does drop the film is what usually happens to controversial films like this - they become harder to see, and thus easier for mainstream American audiences to pretend that they don't exist.
In the meantime, "Cuties" has become one of the most streamed titles on the platform since its premiere. My hope is that all the attention will help to shine a light on the film's concerns - the easy access that kids have to adult content online, and the mixed messages girls see about womanhood. These are important topics, and I hope more media tackle them - but more responsibly in the future.
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Thursday, October 8, 2020
Twelve Hours of "The Third Day"
"The Third Day" is a miniseries co-produced by HBO and Sky Atlantic, a mystery series about a cult that resides on the remote Osea Island. The series is six episodes long, divided into two parts with a special livestream event titled "Autumn" bridging the two halves. I haven't watched any of the actual episodes of the show so far, but "Autumn" was something that immediately grabbed my attention. It's a twelve hour long episode, done all in one shot and one take, which was filmed and streamed live over Facebook, on October 3rd. I didn't watch the stream live, not having heard about the stunt until it was over. However, the videos of the whole event are still available for free on Facebook for now, and I ended up sitting through some significant chunks of it, while skipping ahead through the slower bits.
And there are a lot of slower bits when you're talking about a twelve hour livestream of an epic piece of performance art. "The Third Day," follows a character named Sam, played by Jude Law, who comes to Osea and gets caught up in the internal conflicts of the cult. "Autumn" depicts their religious festival, Esus and the Sea, from sunup to sundown. The first hour or two of the livestream just shows the camera slowly traveling around the island and into the Osea community, watching various people making preparations. At one point an old man eats a sandwich. A little later, we come across a field of what appear to be bodies, but are actually effigies filled with straw being prepared for the ceremony. Jude Law shows up about two hours in, and then he's quickly dragged away to what looks like a recreation of the Last Supper taking place half-submerged in the ocean. Not having the context of the previous episodes of the show, it was fun trying to puzzle out what was going on. The audio is only so-so, and I think I only heard about thirty percent of the spoken dialogue - but you don't really need it to follow what's happening.
Soon it becomes clear that Sam is being forced to undergo a series of trials, representing the journey of the cult's martyr figure Esus, in order to become the new leader of Osea. This includes digging his own grave, dragging a wooden boat a long distance to the sea, and balancing on a platform over the ocean until he falls in the water from exhaustion. It's a marathon piece of acting from Jude Law, and the dozens of other actors we see onscreen. And I can't imagine the Herculean efforts that were going on, on the other side of the camera in order to pull this off. I've seen films done all in one shot and one take before, but this is twelve hours of uninterrupted viewing with very few cheats. The camera does check in on multiple characters and locations, so performers get breaks, but it also stays on certain scenes for an uncomfortably long time. Jude Law drags that boat all the way to the shore in real time, and we see every step he takes to get there. The amount of immersiveness and dramatic momentum achieved by the production is terrific.
However, as mesmerizing and impressive as "Autumn" is, it doesn't make me want to watch the rest of "The Third Day." Going through the synopses of the earlier episodes, this looks like a more grounded take on "The Wicker Man," with less sensationalism and violence. I'm not particularly interested in this, even if it's only six hours of screen time compared to how many I've already spent watching people wander around Osea in the livestream event. The viewing experiences are very different, as the regular episodes of "The Third Day" don't appear to incorporate any of the techniques or storytelling devices used in "Autumn." And I wouldn't watch a version of "Autumn" that was edited down to fit the time constraints of the other episodes either.
In any case, "The Third Day" pulled off a fantastic experiment in merging live theater with television drama, and creating a really unique piece of art. I hope we see more like it.
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Tuesday, October 6, 2020
The First Five of "Grace and Frankie"
It's easy to see how "Grace and Frankie" has managed to outlast just about every other Netflix show currently running. It's a thirty minute sitcom about the adventures of two newly single women in their 70s, with an absolutely incredible cast. Businesswoman Grace (Jane Fonda) and artsy hippie Frankie (Lily Tomlin) have been married to their lawyer husbands, Robert (Martin Sheen) and Sol (Sam Waterston), for decades. In the pilot episode, Robert and Sol announce that they are leaving their wives - and marrying each other.
Grace and Frankie make for a good odd couple, forced to share a beach house together while sorting out their upturned lives. We also spend time with Robert and Sol, who are settling into a new phase of their relationship, which is not without its own bumps. And then there are the kids - Grace and Robert's daughters Briana (June Diane Raphael) and Mallory (Brooklyn Decker), and Frankie and Sol's sons Bud (Baron Vaughn) and Coyote (Ethan Embry), all grown adults. Since Robert and Sol were partners at their law firm together for ages, they've all been socially in each other's orbits forever, and there's quite a bit of past history. Coyote, for instance, is recovering from substance abuse and still has an unrequited crush on Mallory.
For the most part, however, the show stays firmly focused on Grace and Frankie and the woes of being an aging woman. Within the first five episodes, they contend with health scares, obsolescence, and the prospect of retirement homes. They drive each other crazy, but provide each other invaluable support. The leads are well matched - though Tomlin tends to fall into a supporting position more often. It's good to see a show this high profile putting the realistic woes of its underserved older audience front and center. However, everything stays within the format of your typical sitcom. One episode is set at a friend's funeral. One episode involves an awkward dinner party. As touching as it is to see Jane Fonda taking out her hair extensions, or being ignored at the liquor store, every episode ends with some laughs and uplift, avoiding much introspection or melancholy.
And this is perfectly fine, but it's not long before the material starts to feel very familiar. It's easy enough to imagine any number of other older actresses in the parts, and it becomes increasingly clear that the show would not exist without the participation of Fonda and Tomlin. These actresses are icons of the '60s and '70s, and I can't help feeling frustrated that a fairly standard sitcom is the best that Hollywood has to offer them. It's not as bad as the dreadful "Book Club," which Fonda starred in a few years ago with Candice Bergen and Diane Keaton, but "Grace and Frankie" doesn't offer much of a challenge for either actress. With Martin Sheen and Sam Waterston, at least there's the novelty of seeing them play a gay couple. I haven't seen Ethan Embry in anything in years, but he's perfect as a still-twitchy ex-addict. I've seen Fonda and Tomlin play very similar characters before - to the point where I think it would have been more fun if they switched roles.
Still, I have to keep in mind that most sitcoms aren't at their best in their first seasons, and "Grace and Frankie" is currently on their sixth. By all accounts, the show improves considerably in its second year and has found a loyal audience. I haven't been a regular sitcom watcher in a while, and it was surprising how difficult I found it to get back into the particular rhythms of a half hour comedy. Just when I think the show is making the slightest bit of headway with a character or situation, suddenly we're magically back to the status quo and nothing has really changed. The fifth episode is a particularly egregious example, where a really big, interesting turn of events turns out to be a dream sequence.
Then again, "Grace and Frankie" isn't trying to be more than light entertainment that pointedly acknowledges some of the age-related challenges facing its leads. And in that respect, it's pretty successful. It's not a show for me, and this is where I plan to leave it, but it's the right show for plenty of people out there. When I mature a little more, I'm sure I'll come to appreciate it far more than I do now.
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Grace and Frankie make for a good odd couple, forced to share a beach house together while sorting out their upturned lives. We also spend time with Robert and Sol, who are settling into a new phase of their relationship, which is not without its own bumps. And then there are the kids - Grace and Robert's daughters Briana (June Diane Raphael) and Mallory (Brooklyn Decker), and Frankie and Sol's sons Bud (Baron Vaughn) and Coyote (Ethan Embry), all grown adults. Since Robert and Sol were partners at their law firm together for ages, they've all been socially in each other's orbits forever, and there's quite a bit of past history. Coyote, for instance, is recovering from substance abuse and still has an unrequited crush on Mallory.
For the most part, however, the show stays firmly focused on Grace and Frankie and the woes of being an aging woman. Within the first five episodes, they contend with health scares, obsolescence, and the prospect of retirement homes. They drive each other crazy, but provide each other invaluable support. The leads are well matched - though Tomlin tends to fall into a supporting position more often. It's good to see a show this high profile putting the realistic woes of its underserved older audience front and center. However, everything stays within the format of your typical sitcom. One episode is set at a friend's funeral. One episode involves an awkward dinner party. As touching as it is to see Jane Fonda taking out her hair extensions, or being ignored at the liquor store, every episode ends with some laughs and uplift, avoiding much introspection or melancholy.
And this is perfectly fine, but it's not long before the material starts to feel very familiar. It's easy enough to imagine any number of other older actresses in the parts, and it becomes increasingly clear that the show would not exist without the participation of Fonda and Tomlin. These actresses are icons of the '60s and '70s, and I can't help feeling frustrated that a fairly standard sitcom is the best that Hollywood has to offer them. It's not as bad as the dreadful "Book Club," which Fonda starred in a few years ago with Candice Bergen and Diane Keaton, but "Grace and Frankie" doesn't offer much of a challenge for either actress. With Martin Sheen and Sam Waterston, at least there's the novelty of seeing them play a gay couple. I haven't seen Ethan Embry in anything in years, but he's perfect as a still-twitchy ex-addict. I've seen Fonda and Tomlin play very similar characters before - to the point where I think it would have been more fun if they switched roles.
Still, I have to keep in mind that most sitcoms aren't at their best in their first seasons, and "Grace and Frankie" is currently on their sixth. By all accounts, the show improves considerably in its second year and has found a loyal audience. I haven't been a regular sitcom watcher in a while, and it was surprising how difficult I found it to get back into the particular rhythms of a half hour comedy. Just when I think the show is making the slightest bit of headway with a character or situation, suddenly we're magically back to the status quo and nothing has really changed. The fifth episode is a particularly egregious example, where a really big, interesting turn of events turns out to be a dream sequence.
Then again, "Grace and Frankie" isn't trying to be more than light entertainment that pointedly acknowledges some of the age-related challenges facing its leads. And in that respect, it's pretty successful. It's not a show for me, and this is where I plan to leave it, but it's the right show for plenty of people out there. When I mature a little more, I'm sure I'll come to appreciate it far more than I do now.
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Sunday, October 4, 2020
"GLOW," Year Three
Spoilers ahead for the first two seasons.
"GLOW" goes to Las Vegas in season three, which is not as exciting as it sounds, especially as they're stuck there for several months and quickly get bored with the routine of performing the same stage show for the Fan-Tan hotel/casino night after night. There are several new relationships and storylines that spring up, as well as advancements on existing ones. Ruth is still seeing Russell (Victor Quinaz), but is also getting closer to Sam. Debbie finds the long commute from L.A. intolerable, but starts dating a man named Tex (Toby Huss). Cherry and Keith (Bashir Salahuddin) are trying for a baby. Rhonda and Bash are settling into married life, but run into several unresolved issues.
This is all very watchable, but there's no getting away from the fact that the pace of the show is slowed way, way down, and the atmosphere has changed considerably. This is no longer a story of plucky underdogs struggling for survival, but about what happens when the characters achieve a small measure of success, and are forced to pause their lives for long enough to confront some of the issues that they've left on the back burner. Ruth's real dilemma this season is trying to figure out how to still pursue her dream of being a serious actress. And this is pretty tedious and not handled in the best way. Debbie, Sam, and Bash have better storylines, fortunately, but they're all rather slow-moving and melodramatic. There's a noticeable deficit in the action and humor that made the first two seasons feel so exhilarating. The wrestling has been cut to nearly nothing. There's no more suspense over how the show is going to work, because the show is the same every night - albeit with a few variations for special occasions.
What's worse is that the extended ensemble cast gets neglected. There are a few bright spots, like Sheila taking acting classes and Cherry questioning the prospect of motherhood, but otherwise the little side plots and arcs are mostly a bust. Tamme's situation has a lot of potential, when injuries threaten her ability to keep wrestling, but we spend far too little time with her, and the idea doesn't really get developed well. Carmen's frustrations boil over in the last episode, but her solution doesn't really jive with what she's been doing for the rest of the season. I'm also not a fan of how the show handles some issues like Jenny's background and Arthie embracing an LGBT identity. I'm glad the show is promoting more diverse stories, but they push a little too hard on the messaging this year. One episode features an actual hate crime, which has little to no impact on anyone except Arthie.
There's one new major character, Sandy (Geena Davis), the entertainment director of the Fan-Tan. She's not very interesting and doesn't get much to do that justifies the stunt casting. The Las Vegas setting in general is on the lackluster side. Understandably, the show couldn't afford a full '80s recreation of the Strip, so we're stuck mostly at the Fan-Tan and a few peripheral locations. An awful lot of this season is set in hotel rooms again. I do like seeing the less glamorous side of Vegas as experienced by the workers, and the sense of being trapped in one place for too long. In addition, Vegas has a reputation for being out of the normal flow of things, where it's difficult to keep track of seasons and the passage of time. Attempts to break up the season with hiking trips and holiday specials can only do so much. And there are no formal experiments remotely like the episode-within-an-episode show again.
There's only one season left of "GLOW," and I think that's for the best. Even if the Vegas episodes turn out to be only a detour in the show's quality rather than a real decline, we're clearly getting to the point where some of these characters' stories are reaching some logical endpoints. The third season of "GLOW" was more of a disappointment a than failure - there are still two or three very strong episodes and the Bash and Rhonda storyline is excellent - but it's pretty well stymied my enthusiasm for the show.
---
"GLOW" goes to Las Vegas in season three, which is not as exciting as it sounds, especially as they're stuck there for several months and quickly get bored with the routine of performing the same stage show for the Fan-Tan hotel/casino night after night. There are several new relationships and storylines that spring up, as well as advancements on existing ones. Ruth is still seeing Russell (Victor Quinaz), but is also getting closer to Sam. Debbie finds the long commute from L.A. intolerable, but starts dating a man named Tex (Toby Huss). Cherry and Keith (Bashir Salahuddin) are trying for a baby. Rhonda and Bash are settling into married life, but run into several unresolved issues.
This is all very watchable, but there's no getting away from the fact that the pace of the show is slowed way, way down, and the atmosphere has changed considerably. This is no longer a story of plucky underdogs struggling for survival, but about what happens when the characters achieve a small measure of success, and are forced to pause their lives for long enough to confront some of the issues that they've left on the back burner. Ruth's real dilemma this season is trying to figure out how to still pursue her dream of being a serious actress. And this is pretty tedious and not handled in the best way. Debbie, Sam, and Bash have better storylines, fortunately, but they're all rather slow-moving and melodramatic. There's a noticeable deficit in the action and humor that made the first two seasons feel so exhilarating. The wrestling has been cut to nearly nothing. There's no more suspense over how the show is going to work, because the show is the same every night - albeit with a few variations for special occasions.
What's worse is that the extended ensemble cast gets neglected. There are a few bright spots, like Sheila taking acting classes and Cherry questioning the prospect of motherhood, but otherwise the little side plots and arcs are mostly a bust. Tamme's situation has a lot of potential, when injuries threaten her ability to keep wrestling, but we spend far too little time with her, and the idea doesn't really get developed well. Carmen's frustrations boil over in the last episode, but her solution doesn't really jive with what she's been doing for the rest of the season. I'm also not a fan of how the show handles some issues like Jenny's background and Arthie embracing an LGBT identity. I'm glad the show is promoting more diverse stories, but they push a little too hard on the messaging this year. One episode features an actual hate crime, which has little to no impact on anyone except Arthie.
There's one new major character, Sandy (Geena Davis), the entertainment director of the Fan-Tan. She's not very interesting and doesn't get much to do that justifies the stunt casting. The Las Vegas setting in general is on the lackluster side. Understandably, the show couldn't afford a full '80s recreation of the Strip, so we're stuck mostly at the Fan-Tan and a few peripheral locations. An awful lot of this season is set in hotel rooms again. I do like seeing the less glamorous side of Vegas as experienced by the workers, and the sense of being trapped in one place for too long. In addition, Vegas has a reputation for being out of the normal flow of things, where it's difficult to keep track of seasons and the passage of time. Attempts to break up the season with hiking trips and holiday specials can only do so much. And there are no formal experiments remotely like the episode-within-an-episode show again.
There's only one season left of "GLOW," and I think that's for the best. Even if the Vegas episodes turn out to be only a detour in the show's quality rather than a real decline, we're clearly getting to the point where some of these characters' stories are reaching some logical endpoints. The third season of "GLOW" was more of a disappointment a than failure - there are still two or three very strong episodes and the Bash and Rhonda storyline is excellent - but it's pretty well stymied my enthusiasm for the show.
---
Friday, October 2, 2020
Looking Back on "The Toys That Made Us"
I've been cleaning out my Netflix queue, and came upon this documentary series about nostalgic toy lines. Twelve hour-long episodes have been produced so far, covering toys that have made an outsized cultural impact, like LEGO or Transformers. Action figures are of special interest, with episodes devoted to "Star Wars," "Star Trek," "Power Rangers," and WWF/WWE toys. I've seen programs like this before, airing in odd hours on the Discovery or Travel Channels. "The Toys That Made Us," however, benefits from going a little more in depth and leaning heavily on interviews with the creative talent involved.
I instantly became very absorbed by the show, because it answered so many questions I had about certain pieces of '80s and '90s kid culture that I didn't realize I still had. "Transformers," for instance, was huge when I was young. I knew the toys originated in Japan. I knew that there had been a popular cartoon and movie. However, "The Toys That Made Us" cleared up that Hasbro's original '80s toy line had been licensed and rebranded from two existing Japanese toy lines, and all of the franchise's beloved characters and mythology were dreamed up by a couple of Marvel comics writers. The famous musical cues and taglines had originated from the ad campaign for the toys before being incorporated into the 1984 cartoon. Oh, and the reason why I never seem to recall Megatron actually transforming into anything is because he was based on a toy that transformed into a replica Walther P-38 pistol.
For the first time, I was seeing the executives and artists and marketing people who had been working behind the scenes, who rebranded the '60s G.I. Joe toy into the beloved action figure line in the '80s, or who created Hello Kitty because their company was tired of paying licensing fees for the "Peanuts" characters. The episode devoted to "Star Wars" toys is the first out of the gate, because many of the subsequent installments are about other toy lines trying to copy or ride the coattails of their success. I suspect that some viewers might come away disillusioned when they learn that so many beloved toys were made by cobbling together bits and pieces of pre-existing ones, and some cutthroat business decisions drove certain creative decisions - witness the lovely old ladies who used to work on Barbie, cackling over how they took down Jem and the Bratz dolls.
And it was nice learning a little more about the companies behind the toys - Kenner, Mattel, Hasbro, Playmates, and all the rest. Most of the episodes are built around your standard mini-history lessons and talking head interviews, but since the series is mostly about older toys, there are significant ups and downs with even the most successful franchises. LEGO, for instance, nearly went bankrupt in the early 2000s because they didn't anticipate how cyclical their business was becoming. There's usually a nice spin put on toy lines like "Masters of the Universe" going totally kaput in the end, but there's also a refreshing honesty to how the series views the toys. Some fans participate in the show, but they aren't the main focus here. Likewise, the companies aren't allowed to sugarcoat the truth the way you see in "official" accounts like the recent LEGO documentary.
I don't much care for some of the gimmicks that "The Toys That Made Us" uses. The narration and commentary rife with dad jokes can get grating at times, and the low-budget re-enactors and terrible theme music do absolutely nothing for me. However, the show is well researched and informative. The Hello Kitty episode spends a lot of time explaining the concept of "kawaii," and tying Kitty's popularity to Japanese idol culture and celebrity kitsch. The Barbie episode finally gives us a reasonable explanation for the doll's impossible proportions - she was designed that way to make her clothes look better on her. There are some episodes where I wish the series had spent more time talking about the toys themselves rather than all the marketing and media madness related to them, but not many.
Finally, I appreciate that "The Toys That Made Us" is so blunt about the relationship between toys and media and marketing efforts. I find it fascinating that some of the most popular kids' series of the '80s, especially for boys, came directly out of advertising campaigns for action figures - "Transformers," "He-Man," "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," and "G.I. Joe." I confess that I never connected much to any of these, probably by design, but at least now I've found a way to decode and kind of understand what makes them tick.
---
I instantly became very absorbed by the show, because it answered so many questions I had about certain pieces of '80s and '90s kid culture that I didn't realize I still had. "Transformers," for instance, was huge when I was young. I knew the toys originated in Japan. I knew that there had been a popular cartoon and movie. However, "The Toys That Made Us" cleared up that Hasbro's original '80s toy line had been licensed and rebranded from two existing Japanese toy lines, and all of the franchise's beloved characters and mythology were dreamed up by a couple of Marvel comics writers. The famous musical cues and taglines had originated from the ad campaign for the toys before being incorporated into the 1984 cartoon. Oh, and the reason why I never seem to recall Megatron actually transforming into anything is because he was based on a toy that transformed into a replica Walther P-38 pistol.
For the first time, I was seeing the executives and artists and marketing people who had been working behind the scenes, who rebranded the '60s G.I. Joe toy into the beloved action figure line in the '80s, or who created Hello Kitty because their company was tired of paying licensing fees for the "Peanuts" characters. The episode devoted to "Star Wars" toys is the first out of the gate, because many of the subsequent installments are about other toy lines trying to copy or ride the coattails of their success. I suspect that some viewers might come away disillusioned when they learn that so many beloved toys were made by cobbling together bits and pieces of pre-existing ones, and some cutthroat business decisions drove certain creative decisions - witness the lovely old ladies who used to work on Barbie, cackling over how they took down Jem and the Bratz dolls.
And it was nice learning a little more about the companies behind the toys - Kenner, Mattel, Hasbro, Playmates, and all the rest. Most of the episodes are built around your standard mini-history lessons and talking head interviews, but since the series is mostly about older toys, there are significant ups and downs with even the most successful franchises. LEGO, for instance, nearly went bankrupt in the early 2000s because they didn't anticipate how cyclical their business was becoming. There's usually a nice spin put on toy lines like "Masters of the Universe" going totally kaput in the end, but there's also a refreshing honesty to how the series views the toys. Some fans participate in the show, but they aren't the main focus here. Likewise, the companies aren't allowed to sugarcoat the truth the way you see in "official" accounts like the recent LEGO documentary.
I don't much care for some of the gimmicks that "The Toys That Made Us" uses. The narration and commentary rife with dad jokes can get grating at times, and the low-budget re-enactors and terrible theme music do absolutely nothing for me. However, the show is well researched and informative. The Hello Kitty episode spends a lot of time explaining the concept of "kawaii," and tying Kitty's popularity to Japanese idol culture and celebrity kitsch. The Barbie episode finally gives us a reasonable explanation for the doll's impossible proportions - she was designed that way to make her clothes look better on her. There are some episodes where I wish the series had spent more time talking about the toys themselves rather than all the marketing and media madness related to them, but not many.
Finally, I appreciate that "The Toys That Made Us" is so blunt about the relationship between toys and media and marketing efforts. I find it fascinating that some of the most popular kids' series of the '80s, especially for boys, came directly out of advertising campaigns for action figures - "Transformers," "He-Man," "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles," and "G.I. Joe." I confess that I never connected much to any of these, probably by design, but at least now I've found a way to decode and kind of understand what makes them tick.
---
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