The long-awaited third series of the BBC's "Sherlock" is kind of a mess. It's not a bad mess, and certainly an entertaining one, but stakes are lower, the writing is more indulgent, and there's a definite sense that it's resting on its laurels a bit. While it avoids certain pitfalls and doesn't hit the lows of the prior series, it gets nowhere near the highs either. This set of episodes caters to existing fans of "Sherlock," but certain changes also move the show in a direction that some of them may not appreciate. Some mild spoilers ahead.
Of the three new installments, the first is the most successful because it's the most focused. Last series and two years ago, Sherlock Holmes faked his own death after a standoff with arch nemesis Moriarty, and so the premiere episode has to expend a great deal of effort to get everything back to the status quo. Sherlock is brought back to London on the trail of a new terrorist threat, and reconnects with his old circle of friends and allies, some of them in very different places from where he left them. John Watson has not only vacated Baker Street, but now has a serious girlfriend, Mary Morstan, played by Amanda Abbington. Patching things up between Holmes and Watson isn't easy, and for a while it seems that the rift may be permanent.
The biggest change in the new series is that Sherlock Holmes has softened up and gotten more human. He's still capable of being incredibly selfish and thoughtless, but his concern for his friends is transparent now, and there are several examples of him really trying to be more considerate towards people like Molly Hooper. The bromance with Watson gets downright sentimental at times, as they both have to acknowledge multiple times in these episodes how much their partnership means to them, particularly as the threat of further separation keeps rearing its head. We get more material referencing Sherlock's past, with regular appearances by older brother Mycroft and couple of great comedic scenes with their parents. It all serves to demystify Sherlock Holmes as a character, which I rather enjoyed, but may set other fans' teeth on edge.
All the emphasis on character exploration means that the mysteries get rather shortchanged this year. The first and second installments both feature exciting, but uninvolving cases that aren't presented in a particularly engaging way. They feel incidental to everything else that's going on, and a little slapdash in basic construction. It's only the finale that features a pair of strong villains that feel like real threats, one of them a blackmail artist played with great panache by Danish actor Lars Mikkelsen. Unfortunately, that installment gets tripped up by a particularly poor ending, especially compared to the previous series' cliffhanger. Also, there are many more self-referential moments, which don't add much to the stories.
The season still features plenty of its trademark inventiveness, lots of little clever bits of plotting, and some really good dialogue. I especially liked the way that the first episode offers multiple theories and explanations for how Sherlock Holmes faked his death, starting with a totally unrealistic one straight out of a Hollywood action movie. The problem is that the scripts are overstuffed and too ambitious, juggling lots of different disparate elements that fail to cohere as well as they have in the past. We zip from comic scenes to sober ones to action beats to bromance at a lightning pace. Though I saved them up, I found couldn't watch more than one installment at a time.
If you set the twisty mysteries aside, however, and focus on the character drama, "Sherlock" is still very consistent and a lot of fun. Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman are both excellent, and their rapport is as good as it ever was. They handle this year's lighter material with ease, and both seem to enjoy the sillier moments. Cumberbatch manages to make a particularly long and unwieldy comic sequence in the second episode work seemingly by sheer force of will. Amanda Abbington's a great addition to the cast, with such an easy chemistry with Martin Freeman that it comes as no surprise that they're romantic partners in real life.
I hope "Sherlock" doesn't end here, because it would be a very unsatisfying place to stop. The third series feels like a transitional one, a stepping stone to a different phase of the show's existence. However, considering the difficulties with the production of "Sherlock," juggling the schedules of two much in-demand lead actors, I'm a little worried about this approach. If we have another two-year wait before the fourth series, it doesn't help that we've been left with a set of episodes that ended so weakly. I really hope the last twist was a red herring.
Oh well. There's still every reason to stay optimistic, considering the level of the talent involved. The wait begins for Year Four.
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Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
I Wish I Liked "Llewyn Davis" More
I'm a long time Coen brothers fan. I've seen all their movies, even the obscure ones, even the ones they just wrote for other directors, and I hold them in very high regard. So it bothers me more than it probably should that many critics have been raving about their latest film, "Inside Llewyn Davis," and I came out of it unmoved. Sure, I think it's a very strong film, and after sitting through most of this year's Best Picture nominees I can say with certainty that it's better than at least half of them. However, I didn't connect with it the way I've connected with so many of the Coens' other films, so I find it tough to really champion this one.
The title character, played by Oscar Isaac, is a folk singer in the early 60s, struggling through a long winter in New York. He's talented, but has been unsuccessful in his attempts to make a living as a working musician. Perpetually broke, he stays with one friend after another, ineffectually harassing his agent Mel (Jerry Grayson) for owed payments and more gigs. We watch him bounce from one missed opportunity to the next and the calamities keep piling on. He stays with an older couple, the Gorfeins (Ethan Phillips, Robin Bartlett), accidentally lets out their cat, and ends up having to take it with him for the day. He's friends with a more successful folk duo, Jean (Carey Mulligan) and Jim (Justin Timberlake). Jean reveals she's pregnant after a one night stand with Llewyn and demands that he pay for the abortion. A trip to Chicago seeking more work means hitching a ride with hostile jazz musician Roland Turner (John Goodman) and beat poet Johnny Five (Garrett Hedlund).
Fans of this genre of music will adore this movie. "Llewyn Davis" is a love letter to the era, recreating the New York music scene of the '60s and filled with little details and references. I didn't pick up on any of them, unfortunately, even the most obvious ones. Frankly, I respect but don't particularly enjoy folk music, so I didn't get much out of the numerous musical performances scattered throughout the film, and that may have been the fatal problem. Llewyn has a difficult personality and is not a very likeable guy, though he's very sympathetic. Oscar Isaac does a great job bringing across the personal flaws that constantly bring him trouble, which are in many ways are also what is responsible for his talent. The only time he seems truly content is when he's performing, and several of the numbers are used to convey a lot of emotional nuance. Since I wasn't really getting much out of the songs, I could only appreciate most of this on a cerebral level. Oscar Isaac does all his own singing and guitar playing, by the way.
So I was left with a perfectly good character study of a great musician who never made it, and his encounters with the usual Coen brothers parade of colorful characters. I especially liked Carey Mulligan as Jean, whose vehement attacks on Llewyn are simultaneously very funny and heartbreaking. John Goodman turns in another good appearance as the verbose Roland, and F. Murray Abraham shows up in the third act to play a legendary manager. I wish we got to spend more time with all of them. However, because I wasn't in tune with the music, which plays such a big part of "Llewyn Davis," I felt out of tune with the whole film. The story has an elliptical structure with some moody, atmospheric flourishes that cultivate an air of mystery - which the Coens have done very well before, but this time out felt a little gimmicky. I don't know why, but I found a lot of the usual bits of business harder to swallow than usual.
Technically the film is impeccable, of course. The bleak cinematography is gorgeous, and I loved seeing the collection of actors and musicians that were assembled for the film. I barely even noticed Justin Timberlake until his third or fourth scene, because everyone else in the cast was just that strong. I certainly didn't need to like the music to know the quality of it was very high in all respects. In fact, I'm surprised that even with all of the Academy's labyrinthine eligibility rules, "Inside Llewyn Davis" failed to secure any nominations in the music categories at all. I know several people who have gotten downright obsessed with the soundtrack, and I don't begrudge them one bit.
So I appreciate "Llewyn Davis." I appreciate the hell out of it. I can't think of many filmmakers aside from the Coens who could have made it. I just wish that I could have liked the movie more than I do.
---
The title character, played by Oscar Isaac, is a folk singer in the early 60s, struggling through a long winter in New York. He's talented, but has been unsuccessful in his attempts to make a living as a working musician. Perpetually broke, he stays with one friend after another, ineffectually harassing his agent Mel (Jerry Grayson) for owed payments and more gigs. We watch him bounce from one missed opportunity to the next and the calamities keep piling on. He stays with an older couple, the Gorfeins (Ethan Phillips, Robin Bartlett), accidentally lets out their cat, and ends up having to take it with him for the day. He's friends with a more successful folk duo, Jean (Carey Mulligan) and Jim (Justin Timberlake). Jean reveals she's pregnant after a one night stand with Llewyn and demands that he pay for the abortion. A trip to Chicago seeking more work means hitching a ride with hostile jazz musician Roland Turner (John Goodman) and beat poet Johnny Five (Garrett Hedlund).
Fans of this genre of music will adore this movie. "Llewyn Davis" is a love letter to the era, recreating the New York music scene of the '60s and filled with little details and references. I didn't pick up on any of them, unfortunately, even the most obvious ones. Frankly, I respect but don't particularly enjoy folk music, so I didn't get much out of the numerous musical performances scattered throughout the film, and that may have been the fatal problem. Llewyn has a difficult personality and is not a very likeable guy, though he's very sympathetic. Oscar Isaac does a great job bringing across the personal flaws that constantly bring him trouble, which are in many ways are also what is responsible for his talent. The only time he seems truly content is when he's performing, and several of the numbers are used to convey a lot of emotional nuance. Since I wasn't really getting much out of the songs, I could only appreciate most of this on a cerebral level. Oscar Isaac does all his own singing and guitar playing, by the way.
So I was left with a perfectly good character study of a great musician who never made it, and his encounters with the usual Coen brothers parade of colorful characters. I especially liked Carey Mulligan as Jean, whose vehement attacks on Llewyn are simultaneously very funny and heartbreaking. John Goodman turns in another good appearance as the verbose Roland, and F. Murray Abraham shows up in the third act to play a legendary manager. I wish we got to spend more time with all of them. However, because I wasn't in tune with the music, which plays such a big part of "Llewyn Davis," I felt out of tune with the whole film. The story has an elliptical structure with some moody, atmospheric flourishes that cultivate an air of mystery - which the Coens have done very well before, but this time out felt a little gimmicky. I don't know why, but I found a lot of the usual bits of business harder to swallow than usual.
Technically the film is impeccable, of course. The bleak cinematography is gorgeous, and I loved seeing the collection of actors and musicians that were assembled for the film. I barely even noticed Justin Timberlake until his third or fourth scene, because everyone else in the cast was just that strong. I certainly didn't need to like the music to know the quality of it was very high in all respects. In fact, I'm surprised that even with all of the Academy's labyrinthine eligibility rules, "Inside Llewyn Davis" failed to secure any nominations in the music categories at all. I know several people who have gotten downright obsessed with the soundtrack, and I don't begrudge them one bit.
So I appreciate "Llewyn Davis." I appreciate the hell out of it. I can't think of many filmmakers aside from the Coens who could have made it. I just wish that I could have liked the movie more than I do.
---
Monday, February 3, 2014
A "Nebraska" State of Mind
Who is Bruce Dern? I recognized the veteran actor's name, but I couldn't put a name to the face. Looking at his list of credits, I'd seen a lot of the films he appeared in, but apparently missed the ones that he won the most acclaim for. So I went into "Nebraska" knowing almost nothing about its most highly lauded actor, who has been enjoying lots of awards attention for this performance, and I think I was better off for it.
"Nebraska" is about Woody Grant (Dern), an elderly former mechanic who lives in Billings, Montana. We first see him making his slow but steady way down the side of a busy street, before he is stopped by a concerned patrolman. When Woody's son David (Will Forte) comes to pick him up at the station, we learn that Woody was trying to walk to Lincoln, Nebraska, to collect his one million dollar winnings from a marketing company that sent him a letter - clearly just a solicitation for magazine subscriptions, but Woody is convinced it's real. Woody's exasperated wife Kate (June Squibb) and older son Ross (Bob Odenkirk) are unsympathetic and discuss putting Woody in a nursing home, but after Woody makes another failed attempt to walk to Nebraska, David decides to drive him there.
I'd initially assumed from the synopses I'd read that this was a father-son road trip movie, but the bulk of the story takes place in Hawthorne, Nebraska, the Grants' original hometown where many of the extended family and Woody's old business partner Ed Pegram (Stacy Keach) still live. Woody and David stay with relatives there over an eventful weekend, where they reconnect with the past and each other to an extent. But if I've made this sound like a typical feel good movie, this couldn't be further from the truth. "Nebraska" was directed by Alexander Payne, responsible for other painfully human dramedies full of disappointment and heartache like "The Descendants," "Sideways," and "About Schmidt."
Payne's vision of the midwest is a dull, depressing place. The characters inhabit small towns gripped by economic decline. The black-and-white cinematography is beautiful, capturing the vastness and emptiness of the landscape, and the topography of aging faces. All of it is suffused with an inescapable melancholy. It's this tone that sets "Nebraska" apart. The script is low-key, but punctuated with a lot of humor, occasionally of the ribald variety. The pacing is measured and the story is largely made up of incidental moments, but not to the point where it's off-putting. Once you settle into the rhythm of the film's universe, it doesn't feel slow at all.
I've seen some claim that the film presents an unfair view of its older, Midwestern characters, who are tripped up by simple misunderstandings and seem to conform to common cliches. And yes, some of them are very broadly drawn for comedic purposes. However, I was struck by how well-observed the portrayals were, the way a family reunion ends up centering around a televised sports game and how Woody interacts with a bartender at an old drinking spot. For the most part, the people in "Nebraska" look and behave like real people, and aside from a few obvious bad apples they're decent, well-meaning, and perfectly ordinary. And they have the flaws that ordinary people have.
Woody Grant is similarly ordinary, but a fascinating figure. Everyone offers David different stories about Woody, painting him as an irresponsible alcoholic, a damaged soldier, a bad father, a generous man who couldn't say no to anybody, a fondly remembered old lover, and many other things. Bruce Dern's performance offers clues as to how these different versions can be reconciled. Woody is frequently lost and confused, his expression vacant and his mind perhaps not all there. However, he's still aware of how others view him, remembers certain parts of his past all too clearly, and retains a stubborn pride that drives many of his actions.
For me, Dern disappears into the role fully, helped by the fact that I had no preconceived notions of his work as an actor. It's incredible how expressive he is, his posture and body language alone saying volumes about his state of mind. Part of him, however, remains impenetrable. Does he understand that his letter is a fake? Does he care? Similarly, June Squibb was also a complete unknown to me, and is the film's great comedic force as the family's scolding, worrying, and sometimes inappropriately candid maternal juggernaut. And despite all the difficulties and indignities that they embody, I found I liked them very much.
Of Payne's other films, "About Schmidt" is the one that "Nebraska" reminds me of the most, another story about the odyssey of an older man looking for a little meaning in his life. However, I much prefer "Nebraska" for its tighter focus on familial relationships, it's ensemble, and especially for Bruce Dern's work here. There's also a great sense of nostalgia and affection for the small towns and elderly denizens of "Nebraska," along with the light satiric touches, which I found tremendously affecting.
I always underestimate Alexander Payne and he keeps delivering, time after time. Really, ought to know better by now.
---
"Nebraska" is about Woody Grant (Dern), an elderly former mechanic who lives in Billings, Montana. We first see him making his slow but steady way down the side of a busy street, before he is stopped by a concerned patrolman. When Woody's son David (Will Forte) comes to pick him up at the station, we learn that Woody was trying to walk to Lincoln, Nebraska, to collect his one million dollar winnings from a marketing company that sent him a letter - clearly just a solicitation for magazine subscriptions, but Woody is convinced it's real. Woody's exasperated wife Kate (June Squibb) and older son Ross (Bob Odenkirk) are unsympathetic and discuss putting Woody in a nursing home, but after Woody makes another failed attempt to walk to Nebraska, David decides to drive him there.
I'd initially assumed from the synopses I'd read that this was a father-son road trip movie, but the bulk of the story takes place in Hawthorne, Nebraska, the Grants' original hometown where many of the extended family and Woody's old business partner Ed Pegram (Stacy Keach) still live. Woody and David stay with relatives there over an eventful weekend, where they reconnect with the past and each other to an extent. But if I've made this sound like a typical feel good movie, this couldn't be further from the truth. "Nebraska" was directed by Alexander Payne, responsible for other painfully human dramedies full of disappointment and heartache like "The Descendants," "Sideways," and "About Schmidt."
Payne's vision of the midwest is a dull, depressing place. The characters inhabit small towns gripped by economic decline. The black-and-white cinematography is beautiful, capturing the vastness and emptiness of the landscape, and the topography of aging faces. All of it is suffused with an inescapable melancholy. It's this tone that sets "Nebraska" apart. The script is low-key, but punctuated with a lot of humor, occasionally of the ribald variety. The pacing is measured and the story is largely made up of incidental moments, but not to the point where it's off-putting. Once you settle into the rhythm of the film's universe, it doesn't feel slow at all.
I've seen some claim that the film presents an unfair view of its older, Midwestern characters, who are tripped up by simple misunderstandings and seem to conform to common cliches. And yes, some of them are very broadly drawn for comedic purposes. However, I was struck by how well-observed the portrayals were, the way a family reunion ends up centering around a televised sports game and how Woody interacts with a bartender at an old drinking spot. For the most part, the people in "Nebraska" look and behave like real people, and aside from a few obvious bad apples they're decent, well-meaning, and perfectly ordinary. And they have the flaws that ordinary people have.
Woody Grant is similarly ordinary, but a fascinating figure. Everyone offers David different stories about Woody, painting him as an irresponsible alcoholic, a damaged soldier, a bad father, a generous man who couldn't say no to anybody, a fondly remembered old lover, and many other things. Bruce Dern's performance offers clues as to how these different versions can be reconciled. Woody is frequently lost and confused, his expression vacant and his mind perhaps not all there. However, he's still aware of how others view him, remembers certain parts of his past all too clearly, and retains a stubborn pride that drives many of his actions.
For me, Dern disappears into the role fully, helped by the fact that I had no preconceived notions of his work as an actor. It's incredible how expressive he is, his posture and body language alone saying volumes about his state of mind. Part of him, however, remains impenetrable. Does he understand that his letter is a fake? Does he care? Similarly, June Squibb was also a complete unknown to me, and is the film's great comedic force as the family's scolding, worrying, and sometimes inappropriately candid maternal juggernaut. And despite all the difficulties and indignities that they embody, I found I liked them very much.
Of Payne's other films, "About Schmidt" is the one that "Nebraska" reminds me of the most, another story about the odyssey of an older man looking for a little meaning in his life. However, I much prefer "Nebraska" for its tighter focus on familial relationships, it's ensemble, and especially for Bruce Dern's work here. There's also a great sense of nostalgia and affection for the small towns and elderly denizens of "Nebraska," along with the light satiric touches, which I found tremendously affecting.
I always underestimate Alexander Payne and he keeps delivering, time after time. Really, ought to know better by now.
---
Sunday, February 2, 2014
The Unlikely Return of "Community"
We are six episodes into the fifth season of low rated but still chugging "Community," which is now on hiatus for the duration of the Sochi Winter Olympics, so I'm taking the opportunity to take stock of how things are going. Yes, showrunner Dan Harmon is back at the helm, and yes, it feels like the show is on track again, not only correcting for the muddle of the Harmon-less fourth season, but also taking a few steps back from the occasional overcomplications of the third season as well. There have been other changes to the status quo that have been handled well so far, but it remains to be seen if the show can sustain them in the long run.
First and foremost, it's clear that this is not going to be the same show going forward that the fans have grown to love. Jeff Winger graduated at the end of last season, so the premiere was dedicated to getting him and the rest of the gang back to Greendale. Jeff is now installed as a teacher, and the study group is now a "Save Greendale" teacher-student committee whose members eventually include Professor Duncan and the reinstated Chang. There's also a new face in the cast, criminology professor Buzz Hickey, played by "Breaking Bad" vet Jonathan Banks, the replacement for the not-so-dearly departed Pierce, who bowed out last year. Banks has been pretty good so far, though considerably less prone to absurdity than Pierce.
However, the biggest change to the show's dynamics is that Donald Glover left after the first five episodes of the season, and the character of Troy Barnes was written out - but not without a big, crazy sendoff proportionate to his contributions to "Community." How will the rest of the group, and especially Abed move on from this? We've only had one post-Troy episode so far, but it was a decent one that gave Abed a lot to do, so hope springs eternal. My guess is that the writers will let Abed come out of his autism spectrum informed pop-culture shell a little more and put the bouts of mental instability behind him for good. As entertaining as his afflictions were, they ended up taking "Community" to some odd places I'm not sure it should have gone.
Other characters are also being adjusted. After a string of nutty subplots, Chang is a teacher again, but still the low man on the social totem pole. Jeff is very much a work in progress, adjusting to his role as a new teacher and licking his wounds from another round of recent failures. With their romantic entanglements either resolved or shelved, Britta is back to being the well-meaning meddler and Annie is once again the idealistic overachiever. There's a big emphasis on grounding storylines back in community college life, which I'm very happy about. While it was nice to see the characters outside of Greendale, the school is really the heart of the show, and the characters work best within it.
Individual episodes have had their ups and downs as usual. The premiere was mostly about setting up the rest of the season, and I found the two "normal" episodes so-so, about on par with similar ones from the first season. However the two more conceptual installments, "Cooperative Polygraphy" and "Geothermal Escapism," dealing with Troy's departure, are "Community" at their best. These are episodes that you couldn't have had without Dan Harmon. It's one thing to have everyone at Greendale playing a giant game of "The Floor is Lava," but it's another to use it to turn the school into a surreal post-apocalyptic "Mad Max" version of itself, and also simultaneously have it double as a metaphor for Abed's fears of letting go at the same time.
Best of all, I like that I don't know where the show is going from here. The most damaging of the dangling plot threads left over from seasons past have all been cleared away. Jeff's four-year deadline is gone, and he's essentially starting over from scratch. The rest of the gang hasn't committed to any new recurring storylines yet, though I suspect we'll be seeing some soon. Harmon and company could go anywhere they want, and with ratings holding steady they have the time to get there. Six seasons and a movie is looking like a real possibility since the rest of NBC's Thursday schedule has tanked so badly.
I'm sorry to see Troy gone and I'm not totally onboard with Hickey yet, but the future of "Community" looks pretty good right now. There aren't many television shows that have managed to pull out of a nosedive like this, and the fact that "Community" managed it so well is very heartening. I'm glad I decided to stick with the show through its bumpiest stretch and look forward to even better to come.
---
First and foremost, it's clear that this is not going to be the same show going forward that the fans have grown to love. Jeff Winger graduated at the end of last season, so the premiere was dedicated to getting him and the rest of the gang back to Greendale. Jeff is now installed as a teacher, and the study group is now a "Save Greendale" teacher-student committee whose members eventually include Professor Duncan and the reinstated Chang. There's also a new face in the cast, criminology professor Buzz Hickey, played by "Breaking Bad" vet Jonathan Banks, the replacement for the not-so-dearly departed Pierce, who bowed out last year. Banks has been pretty good so far, though considerably less prone to absurdity than Pierce.
However, the biggest change to the show's dynamics is that Donald Glover left after the first five episodes of the season, and the character of Troy Barnes was written out - but not without a big, crazy sendoff proportionate to his contributions to "Community." How will the rest of the group, and especially Abed move on from this? We've only had one post-Troy episode so far, but it was a decent one that gave Abed a lot to do, so hope springs eternal. My guess is that the writers will let Abed come out of his autism spectrum informed pop-culture shell a little more and put the bouts of mental instability behind him for good. As entertaining as his afflictions were, they ended up taking "Community" to some odd places I'm not sure it should have gone.
Other characters are also being adjusted. After a string of nutty subplots, Chang is a teacher again, but still the low man on the social totem pole. Jeff is very much a work in progress, adjusting to his role as a new teacher and licking his wounds from another round of recent failures. With their romantic entanglements either resolved or shelved, Britta is back to being the well-meaning meddler and Annie is once again the idealistic overachiever. There's a big emphasis on grounding storylines back in community college life, which I'm very happy about. While it was nice to see the characters outside of Greendale, the school is really the heart of the show, and the characters work best within it.
Individual episodes have had their ups and downs as usual. The premiere was mostly about setting up the rest of the season, and I found the two "normal" episodes so-so, about on par with similar ones from the first season. However the two more conceptual installments, "Cooperative Polygraphy" and "Geothermal Escapism," dealing with Troy's departure, are "Community" at their best. These are episodes that you couldn't have had without Dan Harmon. It's one thing to have everyone at Greendale playing a giant game of "The Floor is Lava," but it's another to use it to turn the school into a surreal post-apocalyptic "Mad Max" version of itself, and also simultaneously have it double as a metaphor for Abed's fears of letting go at the same time.
Best of all, I like that I don't know where the show is going from here. The most damaging of the dangling plot threads left over from seasons past have all been cleared away. Jeff's four-year deadline is gone, and he's essentially starting over from scratch. The rest of the gang hasn't committed to any new recurring storylines yet, though I suspect we'll be seeing some soon. Harmon and company could go anywhere they want, and with ratings holding steady they have the time to get there. Six seasons and a movie is looking like a real possibility since the rest of NBC's Thursday schedule has tanked so badly.
I'm sorry to see Troy gone and I'm not totally onboard with Hickey yet, but the future of "Community" looks pretty good right now. There aren't many television shows that have managed to pull out of a nosedive like this, and the fact that "Community" managed it so well is very heartening. I'm glad I decided to stick with the show through its bumpiest stretch and look forward to even better to come.
---
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Missmediajunkie vs. "Full House"
Thanks to a Superbowl yogurt commercial that reunites the three male stars of "Full House," Bob Saget, Dave Coulier, and John Stamos, there's been wave of nostalgia for the '80s family sitcom that ran for eight years on ABC. Jimmy Kimmel had the trio on a few nights ago for a "Full House" themed sketch. Morning show appearances, interviews, and all the usual media stops have followed. And personally, I'm doing my best to ignore it all. I hated "Full House."
You watch a lot of television as a kid for no better reason than it's on and your parents don't mind that you're watching it. Somehow, "Full House" was ubiquitous in my household, even though I wasn't very fond of it and I distinctly remember that my father couldn't sit through five minutes of any episode without rolling his eyes. For those of you unfamiliar with the program, "Full House" was a sitcom about a recently widowed father, Danny Tanner (Saget), left to raise three young daughters by himself, one of them an infant. So he did the sensible thing and recruited two down-on-their-luck male friends, Uncle Jesse (Stamos) and Uncle Joey (Coulier) to move in with him and help out. And to make sure this situation didn't seem too strange, Danny's co-worker Becky (Lori Loughlin) was always around in some capacity, eventually becoming Uncle Jesse's girlfriend and then spouse. Plots were typical things like trying to save a bad Thanksgiving and the guys trying to balance their love lives with parenting obligations.
"Full House" was the anchor of ABC's TGIF family viewing block, and was meant to be watched by children with their parents, so the stories were always simple, the humor repetitive, and the every story ended with some wholesome family bonding and a pat moral, usually delivered by Danny Tanner to the same "serious moment" musical cue in every single episode. I credit "Full House" for being the show where the schmaltzy formula was so obvious and so lazy that it was the first one that I could identify as being a Bad Show and point out a lot of recurring schtick. Nonetheless, I watched it for years and I remember the plots of many episodes and the names of all the main characters. I wish I remembered so much about "The Cosby Show" or "Family Ties," which I know I was watching in roughly the same time frame. But no, it was "Full House" that somehow stuck.
I can certainly understand the nostalgia that some people have for it. "Full House" was a ratings monster for years and it seemed impossible to avoid. Every kid in school watched it if their parents let them watch television, though I never met anyone who really seemed to be a fan. If there was any comment on it at all among my friends, it was usually to complain that there were too many episodes centered around the youngest daughter Michelle (Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen), which were the ones that got really saccharine. I haven't seen the show in years and I'm sure it would probably be totally unwatchable to me now the same way that TGIF's successors, the Disney Channel originals are.
Pop culture seems to have mostly forgotten about "Full House" too, up until this point. John Stamos, Bob Saget, and the Olsen twins have stayed fairly visible in the industry, but avoided sitcom work. Saget has notably become notorious for very adult comedy routines that are a complete 180 from his years as on "Full House" and as the goofy host of "America's Funniest Home Videos." When the show does come up now, it's usually as a target for ridicule, often pretty meanspirited. Despite not liking "Full House," I bear no real ill will towards it. The series was a product of its time, well-meaning in its aims, and pretty harmless. So I don't get much out of the mockery. I'd rather just forget the show existed.
I have seen the Dannon Oikos Greek yogurt ad, which joking alludes to the unorthodox "Full House" living situation, hinting that the trio's "bromance" was more serious than the show lead on. I fail to see how this brief reunion is worthy of all the media attention, but whatever. It seems like every half-forgotten bit of '80s detritus requires some kind of cast reunion these days, and this is at least more amusing than last year's "Ferris Bueller" car ad. And at least they didn't drag the kids into this - Candace Cameron Bure sure doesn't need any more attention. I don't think she'd appreciate the gay-friendly overtones anyway.
But between this and the "Boy Meets World' spinoff, it looks like the nostalgia wave is hitting the TGIF generation full force. I guess we'd better brace ourselves for the inevitable return of "Mr. Belvedere," "Perfect Strangers," "Step By Step," "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" and - gulp - Urkel.
---
You watch a lot of television as a kid for no better reason than it's on and your parents don't mind that you're watching it. Somehow, "Full House" was ubiquitous in my household, even though I wasn't very fond of it and I distinctly remember that my father couldn't sit through five minutes of any episode without rolling his eyes. For those of you unfamiliar with the program, "Full House" was a sitcom about a recently widowed father, Danny Tanner (Saget), left to raise three young daughters by himself, one of them an infant. So he did the sensible thing and recruited two down-on-their-luck male friends, Uncle Jesse (Stamos) and Uncle Joey (Coulier) to move in with him and help out. And to make sure this situation didn't seem too strange, Danny's co-worker Becky (Lori Loughlin) was always around in some capacity, eventually becoming Uncle Jesse's girlfriend and then spouse. Plots were typical things like trying to save a bad Thanksgiving and the guys trying to balance their love lives with parenting obligations.
"Full House" was the anchor of ABC's TGIF family viewing block, and was meant to be watched by children with their parents, so the stories were always simple, the humor repetitive, and the every story ended with some wholesome family bonding and a pat moral, usually delivered by Danny Tanner to the same "serious moment" musical cue in every single episode. I credit "Full House" for being the show where the schmaltzy formula was so obvious and so lazy that it was the first one that I could identify as being a Bad Show and point out a lot of recurring schtick. Nonetheless, I watched it for years and I remember the plots of many episodes and the names of all the main characters. I wish I remembered so much about "The Cosby Show" or "Family Ties," which I know I was watching in roughly the same time frame. But no, it was "Full House" that somehow stuck.
I can certainly understand the nostalgia that some people have for it. "Full House" was a ratings monster for years and it seemed impossible to avoid. Every kid in school watched it if their parents let them watch television, though I never met anyone who really seemed to be a fan. If there was any comment on it at all among my friends, it was usually to complain that there were too many episodes centered around the youngest daughter Michelle (Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen), which were the ones that got really saccharine. I haven't seen the show in years and I'm sure it would probably be totally unwatchable to me now the same way that TGIF's successors, the Disney Channel originals are.
Pop culture seems to have mostly forgotten about "Full House" too, up until this point. John Stamos, Bob Saget, and the Olsen twins have stayed fairly visible in the industry, but avoided sitcom work. Saget has notably become notorious for very adult comedy routines that are a complete 180 from his years as on "Full House" and as the goofy host of "America's Funniest Home Videos." When the show does come up now, it's usually as a target for ridicule, often pretty meanspirited. Despite not liking "Full House," I bear no real ill will towards it. The series was a product of its time, well-meaning in its aims, and pretty harmless. So I don't get much out of the mockery. I'd rather just forget the show existed.
I have seen the Dannon Oikos Greek yogurt ad, which joking alludes to the unorthodox "Full House" living situation, hinting that the trio's "bromance" was more serious than the show lead on. I fail to see how this brief reunion is worthy of all the media attention, but whatever. It seems like every half-forgotten bit of '80s detritus requires some kind of cast reunion these days, and this is at least more amusing than last year's "Ferris Bueller" car ad. And at least they didn't drag the kids into this - Candace Cameron Bure sure doesn't need any more attention. I don't think she'd appreciate the gay-friendly overtones anyway.
But between this and the "Boy Meets World' spinoff, it looks like the nostalgia wave is hitting the TGIF generation full force. I guess we'd better brace ourselves for the inevitable return of "Mr. Belvedere," "Perfect Strangers," "Step By Step," "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" and - gulp - Urkel.
---
Friday, January 31, 2014
My Favorite Krzysztof Kieslowśki Movie
The Polish director Krzysztof Kieślowski began his career as a documentary filmmaker, and when he moved into fictional features, his work was frequently characterized by a strong sense of realism and social commentary, particularly in his "Decalogue" project. However, he also had a strong spiritual side, which he explored in his later films using far more stylized, almost experimental visuals. The first of these was "The Double Life of Véronique," the story of two identical women, one Polish and one French, who have never met but share a mysterious bond with each other.
Irène Jacob plays both the Polish Weronika and the French Véronique. First the film follows Weronika, an aspiring soprano who sings with a choir. She has a boyfriend, a good relationship with her family members, and displays a liveliness of spirit that she attributes to a recent epiphany that she is not alone in the world. During a trip to Kraków she gets a brief glimpse of Véronique, who is visiting as a tourist. Shortly thereafter, the narrative switches to Véronique's POV. She is a music teacher who works with children, and pursues a romantic relationship with a children's book author, Alexandre (Philippe Volter). Though her situation is very different, parallels keep appearing with Weronika's life. Véronique is also aware of the strange connection to her double, though her reaction to this is more ambiguous.
With a highly subjective, free-flowing narrative and a heavy emphasis on metaphysical themes, "The Double Life of Véronique" often feels like a visual poem. Much depends on mood and atmosphere, and Kieślowski's use of imagery to evoke so many different emotions and states of being is exceptional. I especially love Weronika's section of the film, where she's frequently in this heightened state of joy and wonder - singing during a downpour, or viewing the passing landscape through a translucent rubber ball during a train ride. This behavior could become contrived very quickly, but Irène Jacob's performance is excellent, and her presence is magnetic. It's impossible to take your eyes off Weronika, or fail to be caught up in everythng she experiences.
And then we meet Véronique. Is she the same person as Weronika? Is the grief and doubt she feels connected to Weronika's joy? She also has her moments of experiencing wonder, watching a puppetry performance with a group of children, which provides the impetus for her storyline. However, Véronique's life is more complicated and her outlook more subdued. Story becomes more important in her section of the film, namely a mystery involving a casette tape that turns out quite differently from what she expected. Would Weronika have reacted differently? What was Véronique hoping to find?
Movies offer a different, altered way of looking at the world, and in many ways this is the central idea of "Véronique." The two versions of the heroine are different lenses through which we see similar events, emphasized by their own habit of gazing at things through looking glasses and mirrors. Perception has a great effect on their lives, though they aren't fully aware of it, similar to how the three different timelines in Kieślowski's earlier film "Blind Chance" are the result of a few minor choices made by the main character. It doesn't surprise me that multiple versions of "The Double Life of Véronique" were created, each emphasizing different aspects of the whole.
The pace here is slow and deliberate, creating a meditative story full of small wonders. The puppetry performance, for example is a rare delight, a little-seen, old-fashioned form the art where we see the puppeteer's hands manipulating the puppets. The rain storm at the beginning of the film comes out of nowhere, but Weronika's reaction to it is equally unexpected, resulting in one of the most beautiful images in the entire film. The film seems ot be full of symbols, though Kieślowski insists they were not intended as such. Perhaps it would be better to call them echoes of ideas and concepts that recur over and over throughout.
After "Véronique" Kieślowski would go on to make the "Three Colors" trilogy of similarly free-form, spiritual stories about people searching for meaning in their lives. "Véronique" often feels like a precursor to these films, especially the rich visuals that reflect the main characters' inner worlds. Though there is no emphasis on one particular color, as with "Blue," "White," and "Red," I always recall the film having a strong emphasis on golden and sepia tones, making everything feel slightly removed and unreal. Thus it is easier to accept the possibility of otherworldly, unnamed forces existing, affecting people on the most fundamental level.
And I appreciate that they remain an existential mystery, never to be explained. In Kieślowski's films, unseen connections, alternate realities, and doubles simply exist, and they are never questioned or really remarked upon. Perhaps Weronika and Véronique are actually separated twins, but that is entirely beside the point. Instead it is the intangible realm of feelings and instincts and the spirit that is explored, and Kieślowski's ability to bring that journey to the screen remains unparalleled.
---
What I've Seen - Krzysztof Kieslowśki
Blind Chance (1981)
The Decalogue (1988)
A Short Film About Killing (1988)
A Short Film About Love (1988)
The Double Life of Véronique (1991)
Blue (1993)
White (1994)
Red (1994)
---
Irène Jacob plays both the Polish Weronika and the French Véronique. First the film follows Weronika, an aspiring soprano who sings with a choir. She has a boyfriend, a good relationship with her family members, and displays a liveliness of spirit that she attributes to a recent epiphany that she is not alone in the world. During a trip to Kraków she gets a brief glimpse of Véronique, who is visiting as a tourist. Shortly thereafter, the narrative switches to Véronique's POV. She is a music teacher who works with children, and pursues a romantic relationship with a children's book author, Alexandre (Philippe Volter). Though her situation is very different, parallels keep appearing with Weronika's life. Véronique is also aware of the strange connection to her double, though her reaction to this is more ambiguous.
With a highly subjective, free-flowing narrative and a heavy emphasis on metaphysical themes, "The Double Life of Véronique" often feels like a visual poem. Much depends on mood and atmosphere, and Kieślowski's use of imagery to evoke so many different emotions and states of being is exceptional. I especially love Weronika's section of the film, where she's frequently in this heightened state of joy and wonder - singing during a downpour, or viewing the passing landscape through a translucent rubber ball during a train ride. This behavior could become contrived very quickly, but Irène Jacob's performance is excellent, and her presence is magnetic. It's impossible to take your eyes off Weronika, or fail to be caught up in everythng she experiences.
And then we meet Véronique. Is she the same person as Weronika? Is the grief and doubt she feels connected to Weronika's joy? She also has her moments of experiencing wonder, watching a puppetry performance with a group of children, which provides the impetus for her storyline. However, Véronique's life is more complicated and her outlook more subdued. Story becomes more important in her section of the film, namely a mystery involving a casette tape that turns out quite differently from what she expected. Would Weronika have reacted differently? What was Véronique hoping to find?
Movies offer a different, altered way of looking at the world, and in many ways this is the central idea of "Véronique." The two versions of the heroine are different lenses through which we see similar events, emphasized by their own habit of gazing at things through looking glasses and mirrors. Perception has a great effect on their lives, though they aren't fully aware of it, similar to how the three different timelines in Kieślowski's earlier film "Blind Chance" are the result of a few minor choices made by the main character. It doesn't surprise me that multiple versions of "The Double Life of Véronique" were created, each emphasizing different aspects of the whole.
The pace here is slow and deliberate, creating a meditative story full of small wonders. The puppetry performance, for example is a rare delight, a little-seen, old-fashioned form the art where we see the puppeteer's hands manipulating the puppets. The rain storm at the beginning of the film comes out of nowhere, but Weronika's reaction to it is equally unexpected, resulting in one of the most beautiful images in the entire film. The film seems ot be full of symbols, though Kieślowski insists they were not intended as such. Perhaps it would be better to call them echoes of ideas and concepts that recur over and over throughout.
After "Véronique" Kieślowski would go on to make the "Three Colors" trilogy of similarly free-form, spiritual stories about people searching for meaning in their lives. "Véronique" often feels like a precursor to these films, especially the rich visuals that reflect the main characters' inner worlds. Though there is no emphasis on one particular color, as with "Blue," "White," and "Red," I always recall the film having a strong emphasis on golden and sepia tones, making everything feel slightly removed and unreal. Thus it is easier to accept the possibility of otherworldly, unnamed forces existing, affecting people on the most fundamental level.
And I appreciate that they remain an existential mystery, never to be explained. In Kieślowski's films, unseen connections, alternate realities, and doubles simply exist, and they are never questioned or really remarked upon. Perhaps Weronika and Véronique are actually separated twins, but that is entirely beside the point. Instead it is the intangible realm of feelings and instincts and the spirit that is explored, and Kieślowski's ability to bring that journey to the screen remains unparalleled.
---
What I've Seen - Krzysztof Kieslowśki
Blind Chance (1981)
The Decalogue (1988)
A Short Film About Killing (1988)
A Short Film About Love (1988)
The Double Life of Véronique (1991)
Blue (1993)
White (1994)
Red (1994)
---
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
The Trailer Tiff
Have you become annoyed by the abundance of lengthy movie trailers that seem to spoil all the good stuff and marketing campaigns pushing movies so far ahead of their release dates that you lose track of when they're actually going to show up in theaters? Well, your complaints have not fallen on deaf ears. Well, sort of.
This week the National Association of Theater Owners (NATO), a trade organization for movie theater owners, released a series of guidelines for the marketing materials for upcoming movies. The voluntary standards specify that trailers run no longer than two minutes, and run no more than 150 days before a movie actually opens, and other advertising such as aposters and standees displayed no more than 120 days prior. Potential loopholes involving third parties advertisers are also addressed. There would be some exceptions for special content such as behind-the-scenes featurettes, and each distributor gets two films a year that wouldn't be subject to these restrictions.
This would mean some drastic changes in the way marketing campaigns are run, which often release their earliest teasers over a year in advance of a film's release date. The date restrictions would mean that a summer tentpole opening on Memorial Day would have to wait until Christmas to start campaigning. Remember that great teaser for the upcoming Christopher Nolan movie "Interstellar" that was released back in December? Under the new rules, it would have to be kept under wraps until June. The "X-men: Days of Future Past" standees that have been in the front window of my local theater since mid-December would have had to be kept under wraps for another month at least.
Teasers are usually two minutes or less, but the later full-length trailers usually run at least two and a half minutes. Most of the reports I've seen about the guidelines make the assumption that the shorter length is meant to discourage spoilers, which there have been increased complaints about recently. However, I don't think that's the case. Thirty second television commercials are often the most spoiler-laden bits of advertising, and it would be as easy to divulge third act secrets in two minutes as it is in two-and-a-half. And while everyone seems to agree that the spoilers are annoying, they haven't really been affecting the theaters' bottom lines. However, shorter trailers mean that theaters can play more trailers or more pre-show advertisements, which they've become increasingly reliant on for revenue.
A year ago, we were getting reports that larger exhibitors were regularly charging studios to play certain trailers, because the advertising space in front of the features was becoming more and more valuable. Most theaters now run one or two trailers attached to a film for free, but the rest have to be paid for. And because more trailers bring in more revenue, over the past decade we've seen a steady rise in the number of trailers that play in front of a film. You'll notice that the new NATO guidelines don't address a common complaint of moviegoers these days, which is that there are too many ads and coming attractions in front of a film. It's not rare to find films that actually start twenty minutes after they've been scheduled because of all the previews.
The new guidelines would go into effect for movies opening after October 1st. They're voluntary, remember, but it's the theaters that decide which trailers play in front of which movies, and where to place the posters and standees, so if they're all onboard with the new rules, the studios may be out of luck. Sure, print, television, and online advertising are major alternatives to consider, but the trailers that play in theaters are special. It's an audience that the studios know will be the most receptive, that is paying attention, and can't change the channel. Trailers are considered part of the normal moviegoing experience, and some viewers still take pains to arrive early so they won't miss any.
And lest you think the theaters are being too stingy about this, remember that the studios have been the ones who have been cutting into theater owners' ticket revenues by shortening the amount of time that movies play in theaters exclusively. It's not uncommon to find new studio movies on disc a mere 90 days after their initial release dates, and there was talk recently of premium VOD cutting that number in half. The way that the theaters and studios split ticket sales, the longer the run of a film, the more money goes to the theaters. So you can hardly blame the theaters for pushing back and exercising their leverage over the studios' marketing campaigns.
As for us consumers, nothing much changes. Even if we get shorter trailers, we'll probably sit through more of them, and longer versions will still be released online. They'll be easier to avoid, at least. The fight is really between the theaters and the studios over money, and the preferences of the viewers make for good P.R., but they're really a secondary concern for both sides.
---
This week the National Association of Theater Owners (NATO), a trade organization for movie theater owners, released a series of guidelines for the marketing materials for upcoming movies. The voluntary standards specify that trailers run no longer than two minutes, and run no more than 150 days before a movie actually opens, and other advertising such as aposters and standees displayed no more than 120 days prior. Potential loopholes involving third parties advertisers are also addressed. There would be some exceptions for special content such as behind-the-scenes featurettes, and each distributor gets two films a year that wouldn't be subject to these restrictions.
This would mean some drastic changes in the way marketing campaigns are run, which often release their earliest teasers over a year in advance of a film's release date. The date restrictions would mean that a summer tentpole opening on Memorial Day would have to wait until Christmas to start campaigning. Remember that great teaser for the upcoming Christopher Nolan movie "Interstellar" that was released back in December? Under the new rules, it would have to be kept under wraps until June. The "X-men: Days of Future Past" standees that have been in the front window of my local theater since mid-December would have had to be kept under wraps for another month at least.
Teasers are usually two minutes or less, but the later full-length trailers usually run at least two and a half minutes. Most of the reports I've seen about the guidelines make the assumption that the shorter length is meant to discourage spoilers, which there have been increased complaints about recently. However, I don't think that's the case. Thirty second television commercials are often the most spoiler-laden bits of advertising, and it would be as easy to divulge third act secrets in two minutes as it is in two-and-a-half. And while everyone seems to agree that the spoilers are annoying, they haven't really been affecting the theaters' bottom lines. However, shorter trailers mean that theaters can play more trailers or more pre-show advertisements, which they've become increasingly reliant on for revenue.
A year ago, we were getting reports that larger exhibitors were regularly charging studios to play certain trailers, because the advertising space in front of the features was becoming more and more valuable. Most theaters now run one or two trailers attached to a film for free, but the rest have to be paid for. And because more trailers bring in more revenue, over the past decade we've seen a steady rise in the number of trailers that play in front of a film. You'll notice that the new NATO guidelines don't address a common complaint of moviegoers these days, which is that there are too many ads and coming attractions in front of a film. It's not rare to find films that actually start twenty minutes after they've been scheduled because of all the previews.
The new guidelines would go into effect for movies opening after October 1st. They're voluntary, remember, but it's the theaters that decide which trailers play in front of which movies, and where to place the posters and standees, so if they're all onboard with the new rules, the studios may be out of luck. Sure, print, television, and online advertising are major alternatives to consider, but the trailers that play in theaters are special. It's an audience that the studios know will be the most receptive, that is paying attention, and can't change the channel. Trailers are considered part of the normal moviegoing experience, and some viewers still take pains to arrive early so they won't miss any.
And lest you think the theaters are being too stingy about this, remember that the studios have been the ones who have been cutting into theater owners' ticket revenues by shortening the amount of time that movies play in theaters exclusively. It's not uncommon to find new studio movies on disc a mere 90 days after their initial release dates, and there was talk recently of premium VOD cutting that number in half. The way that the theaters and studios split ticket sales, the longer the run of a film, the more money goes to the theaters. So you can hardly blame the theaters for pushing back and exercising their leverage over the studios' marketing campaigns.
As for us consumers, nothing much changes. Even if we get shorter trailers, we'll probably sit through more of them, and longer versions will still be released online. They'll be easier to avoid, at least. The fight is really between the theaters and the studios over money, and the preferences of the viewers make for good P.R., but they're really a secondary concern for both sides.
---
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