These stories have been around for ages, sometimes accompanied by photographic or video evidence: Bill Murray showing up at random house parties, Bill Murray stealing someone's french fries while at a fast food restaurant, Bill Murray stepping into someone's engagement photos. It boils down to the sense that Bill Murray is a pretty cool guy. I'm not sure we needed an entire documentary about that, but it's interesting to pool the stories and hear the theories on why Bill Murray does what he does.
I used to watch Saturday Night Live with my parents. Looking back, I'm surprised I was allowed to, but I'm guessing my parents were banking on a lot of the jokes going over my head. Same with National Lampoon's Radio. But the one thing I picked out right quick when listening to National Lampoon's was Bill Murray's voice. It was very distinct to me. "There's a lobster loose!" I heard the car radio say, and I looked at my dad and said, "That sounds like Bill Murray." (It was.) Yet even though I grew up in the 80s, during Murray's hey day, I don't recall seeing many of his movies. I saw Ghostbusters, but it scared me. I didn't see Groundhog Day or Scrooged until much, much later. And it wasn't until the Wes Anderson movies that I really noticed Murray on the big screen.
Okay, that's my history with Murray's work. But what about this documentary? It goes to people and asks them to recount their I-met-Bill-Murray stories. And then hypothesizes on why Murray would do these things. For fun, maybe, or to stay in touch with the world and still feel like a person rather than a star. In the end, the film goes for the easy way out: "It doesn't really matter." Which kind of makes the movie feel like it doesn't matter either? I think maybe the filmmaker (Tommy Avallone) hoped Murray might actually turn up at some point for this, but he should have known better; it's worth much more to Murray to retain his mystique.
Still, I'll hazard my own explanation for Murray's behavior. It may be subconscious on his part, but I think he's somewhat aware that his legacy is more valuable in the small moments than the large ones. Think of it this way: there is the widely consumed media (movies, television), in which everyone has the same "Bill Murray experience." We all see those movies, and those are static, fixed. But in smaller, unexpected doses... In real life, in the moment... the experience is very different and far more valuable. He's leaving little memories of himself everywhere.
And making memories for himself too. So many people focus on what they get out of these brushes with stardom that they seldom consider it from the other side. Stars are people. They remember interesting encounters and fun nights out same as anyone.
These aren't the only possible reasons for Bill Murray to wander into people's houses or baseball games or whatever. In fact, there's surely no one reason so much as a confluence of them. But these are reasons I didn't hear mentioned in the film, so I wanted to pose them.
The truth is, I've met—worked with, even—a fair number of famous people, but I've never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Murray, though I sure would like to. He reminds me of my dad, and when I looked up his birthday I understood why—he's only 10 days younger than my dad. They have a similar laid-back intensity, which is hard to understand if you haven't lived with it or dealt with it regularly. It's a weird mixture of gravitas and whimsy, an oddball humor married to an undercurrent of depression. It makes no sense, but there it is. I don't know that having near birthdays explains their similarities, but I'll pretend it does.
No one I know personally has had a run-in with Bill Murray. Maybe some day... Until then, I'll have to live vicariously. This movie is a pretty good place to start.
Showing posts with label actors. Show all posts
Showing posts with label actors. Show all posts
1.09.2018
Books: Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death, and Jazz Chickens by Eddie Izzard
In 2000, my then fiancé and I were visiting my parents, and my dad said, "Oh, have you seen this guy?" And he turned on Dress to Kill. Besides loving the comedy routine, I remember being blown away that my dad—a very conservative man—was kind of fine watching a transvestite. I had to wonder whether being funny somehow excused what would otherwise bother my father, or if maybe there were things (in Dad's philosophy) that were okay for transvestites? Or maybe Dad just thought it was part of the act?
We've never talked about it, so I still don't know.
But at that point I fell in love with Eddie Izzard's comedy. My husband and I have since seen him live a number of times for Sexie, Stripped, some new material he was just trying out, and Force Majeure. We pretty much try to see him whenever he's in the area (first when we lived in Boston, now out in San Francisco).
Look, I grew up with British comedy, so that's probably a large part of my enjoyment of Izzard's work. He speaks repeatedly in Believe Me about his being influenced by Monty Python, and I grew up watching Monty Python (and Fawlty Towers, Are You Being Served? 'Allo 'Allo!, Keeping Up Appearances, some weird show called Mulberry that I sometimes think I dreamed up . . . the list goes on). So I think Eddie and I have some similar tastes, you know, we jibe. So that's cool.
All this to give you a sense of why I wanted to read this book.
It's definitely Eddie Izzard writing. Even with a co-writer credited, this is his voice, and there didn't seem to be much buffing of it. In fact, there were several places where I thought it needed another editing and proofreading pass. But that's fine, no big deal, and they'll probably fix it in the paperback.
You get the definite sense that Izzard struggles a bit with opening himself up. But at the same time, he seems fairly self-aware and introspective. He goes through the major events of his life (starting with his mother's death when he was six) and discusses how he felt then and what he thinks about it now. The gist of the book is about how persistence pays off, or at least it did for him. How being stubborn and determined is basically how he got where he is today. And he talks about the circumstances that shaped him, and of course about coming out and how he dealt with that and continues to deal with various reactions from people.
The book actually made for a very good conversation with my 9-year-old daughter. She saw the cover and asked, "Is that a boy or a girl?" Which gave me the perfect opportunity to explain gender fluidity. We talked about all the different ways people might feel about their bodies, like maybe they were meant to be a different gender and might want to change their bodies or at least dress differently. I think it was a productive discussion.
Overall, I enjoyed the book, though it made me kind of sad in thinking about my own attempts to succeed. Which I think is the opposite reaction Izzard might've wanted, but . . . Well, I won't go into it. Long story short, it's a nice read, and I look forward to the next time he's in town.
We've never talked about it, so I still don't know.
But at that point I fell in love with Eddie Izzard's comedy. My husband and I have since seen him live a number of times for Sexie, Stripped, some new material he was just trying out, and Force Majeure. We pretty much try to see him whenever he's in the area (first when we lived in Boston, now out in San Francisco).
Look, I grew up with British comedy, so that's probably a large part of my enjoyment of Izzard's work. He speaks repeatedly in Believe Me about his being influenced by Monty Python, and I grew up watching Monty Python (and Fawlty Towers, Are You Being Served? 'Allo 'Allo!, Keeping Up Appearances, some weird show called Mulberry that I sometimes think I dreamed up . . . the list goes on). So I think Eddie and I have some similar tastes, you know, we jibe. So that's cool.
All this to give you a sense of why I wanted to read this book.
It's definitely Eddie Izzard writing. Even with a co-writer credited, this is his voice, and there didn't seem to be much buffing of it. In fact, there were several places where I thought it needed another editing and proofreading pass. But that's fine, no big deal, and they'll probably fix it in the paperback.
You get the definite sense that Izzard struggles a bit with opening himself up. But at the same time, he seems fairly self-aware and introspective. He goes through the major events of his life (starting with his mother's death when he was six) and discusses how he felt then and what he thinks about it now. The gist of the book is about how persistence pays off, or at least it did for him. How being stubborn and determined is basically how he got where he is today. And he talks about the circumstances that shaped him, and of course about coming out and how he dealt with that and continues to deal with various reactions from people.
The book actually made for a very good conversation with my 9-year-old daughter. She saw the cover and asked, "Is that a boy or a girl?" Which gave me the perfect opportunity to explain gender fluidity. We talked about all the different ways people might feel about their bodies, like maybe they were meant to be a different gender and might want to change their bodies or at least dress differently. I think it was a productive discussion.
Overall, I enjoyed the book, though it made me kind of sad in thinking about my own attempts to succeed. Which I think is the opposite reaction Izzard might've wanted, but . . . Well, I won't go into it. Long story short, it's a nice read, and I look forward to the next time he's in town.
12.29.2017
You Had One Job
I was recently chatting with a dear [male, because in context it might matter] friend about movies and actors and such. He hadn't seen The Last Jedi yet, and one of his reasons was because (to paraphrase): "I don't like Adam Driver as an actor. He only does one thing, and I just don't get—" here my friend waves a hand over his face, "the appeal."
Another [male] friend laughed and agreed that Driver does one thing, and in The Last Jedi "he does a lot of it."
This post isn't a critique of Adam Driver in particular, but we'll use him as an accessible example. To be fair, I've only seen him in Star Wars and Logan Lucky, so I may not be playing with a full hand.
Actors Doing One Thing
This has been Hollywood's underlying formula for decades. If you look at most Cary Grant movies, Cary Grant does his thing in them. He's charming and funny and a bit of a bumbler and he gets into insane situations that he struggles to get back out of. Every now and then he goes against type and does something sinister. In this day and age, I think things run along similar lines. If you want a Cary Grant type these days, you get George Clooney (capable of both charming and sinister). If you want an arrogant asshole, you get Robert Downey Jr. or Benedict Cumberbatch. Goofy man-child with a side of action/adventure? Better call Chris Pratt. Adam Driver does "aggrieved and petulant" I guess?
There's a reason for the term "typecast." When your name as an actor becomes synonymous with a character type . . . When a screenwriter or director or producer can say, "We need a Cary Grant type" and everyone in the room knows exactly what that means . . . you've been typecast. And yet, it's not entirely a bad thing. It might get boring for the actors, but for viewers it's more about interesting stories and combinations of characters. What happens when a Cary Grant type gets thrown together with a Katherine Hepburn type? Sure, we like it when an actor does something different and unexpected (well, sometimes we don't like that at all), but like comfort food, we often also like knowing exactly what we're getting. It's kind of a shorthand. We don't have to work as hard.
I'm not saying actors shouldn't stretch. Of course they should, if and when they get the opportunities (and want them). But there's no harm in knowing what you're good at.
"The Appeal"
This is, of course, hugely subjective, so I can only speak for myself on this point. While I won't say no to looking at classically handsome men on screen for 2+ hours, I find that, for me, I'm much more attracted to interesting faces. I like watching them more than I do perfectly symmetrical features or whatever. That's me; I don't know about anyone else, although I can say my daughter has the biggest crush on both Kylo Ren and Professor Snape, so . . . Apple/tree, I guess? I'm sure studies have been done about the way family and/or genes shape tastes.
And then again, I think characters—those same ones that seem so repetitive, so one-note—also contribute to the appeal of an actor. My male friends see Kylo Ren as whiny, and he is, but Kylo Ren is also complicated, and that's attractive. I, and I'm sure many other people, am willing to look past a lot of seemingly negative physical attributes if there's something interesting inside. I know that the character and the actor are not one and the same, of course. My daughter knows it, too. She knows she likes Kylo Ren, not Adam Driver. (Perhaps not everyone makes that distinction; I recall being guest author at a convention and having a woman talk to me about an actor as though he was the character, and I kept trying to gently prod her onto the correct track in that train of thought, but she was convinced that the two were, if not the same, interchangeable?) But if Adam Driver plays a lot of interesting, complex characters, my daughter and I will probably start to think we like him, too, at least as an actor. At which point his name becomes a selling point for studios. This is why it's so important for actors to choose good roles. Their appeal is tied up in those choices just as much as their looks are.
Another [male] friend laughed and agreed that Driver does one thing, and in The Last Jedi "he does a lot of it."
This post isn't a critique of Adam Driver in particular, but we'll use him as an accessible example. To be fair, I've only seen him in Star Wars and Logan Lucky, so I may not be playing with a full hand.
Actors Doing One Thing
This has been Hollywood's underlying formula for decades. If you look at most Cary Grant movies, Cary Grant does his thing in them. He's charming and funny and a bit of a bumbler and he gets into insane situations that he struggles to get back out of. Every now and then he goes against type and does something sinister. In this day and age, I think things run along similar lines. If you want a Cary Grant type these days, you get George Clooney (capable of both charming and sinister). If you want an arrogant asshole, you get Robert Downey Jr. or Benedict Cumberbatch. Goofy man-child with a side of action/adventure? Better call Chris Pratt. Adam Driver does "aggrieved and petulant" I guess?
There's a reason for the term "typecast." When your name as an actor becomes synonymous with a character type . . . When a screenwriter or director or producer can say, "We need a Cary Grant type" and everyone in the room knows exactly what that means . . . you've been typecast. And yet, it's not entirely a bad thing. It might get boring for the actors, but for viewers it's more about interesting stories and combinations of characters. What happens when a Cary Grant type gets thrown together with a Katherine Hepburn type? Sure, we like it when an actor does something different and unexpected (well, sometimes we don't like that at all), but like comfort food, we often also like knowing exactly what we're getting. It's kind of a shorthand. We don't have to work as hard.
I'm not saying actors shouldn't stretch. Of course they should, if and when they get the opportunities (and want them). But there's no harm in knowing what you're good at.
"The Appeal"
This is, of course, hugely subjective, so I can only speak for myself on this point. While I won't say no to looking at classically handsome men on screen for 2+ hours, I find that, for me, I'm much more attracted to interesting faces. I like watching them more than I do perfectly symmetrical features or whatever. That's me; I don't know about anyone else, although I can say my daughter has the biggest crush on both Kylo Ren and Professor Snape, so . . . Apple/tree, I guess? I'm sure studies have been done about the way family and/or genes shape tastes.
And then again, I think characters—those same ones that seem so repetitive, so one-note—also contribute to the appeal of an actor. My male friends see Kylo Ren as whiny, and he is, but Kylo Ren is also complicated, and that's attractive. I, and I'm sure many other people, am willing to look past a lot of seemingly negative physical attributes if there's something interesting inside. I know that the character and the actor are not one and the same, of course. My daughter knows it, too. She knows she likes Kylo Ren, not Adam Driver. (Perhaps not everyone makes that distinction; I recall being guest author at a convention and having a woman talk to me about an actor as though he was the character, and I kept trying to gently prod her onto the correct track in that train of thought, but she was convinced that the two were, if not the same, interchangeable?) But if Adam Driver plays a lot of interesting, complex characters, my daughter and I will probably start to think we like him, too, at least as an actor. At which point his name becomes a selling point for studios. This is why it's so important for actors to choose good roles. Their appeal is tied up in those choices just as much as their looks are.
7.17.2017
Television: The 13th Doctor
I've pretty much actively avoided reading any comments or ongoing debate about the reveal of Jodie Whittaker as the 13th Doctor in the Doctor Who universe. I don't really care what most people think, I guess, and I don't particularly need the input to figure out my own thoughts and feelings about it. Which are:
So, yeah, I think this will be interesting.
- Yay! Not because it's a woman, specifically, but because at least it's not another white man.
- If people can change gender, why not the Doctor?
- I don't give a flying fig about "retconning" or whatever is being claimed. (Okay, yes, I saw at least that much fuss thanks to a friend's Facebook comment.) Moffat mucked up plenty, so it's all fair game now.
- I liked Whittaker on Broadchurch, but that was a very serious and dramatic role. Will this new Doctor be that serious? Or will I simply see Whittaker in a new light? Curious to find out.
- I'm confident in Chibnall's abilities, too, as showrunner. And I know he's worked well with Whittaker in the past, which is a good start.
So, yeah, I think this will be interesting.
4.27.2017
Television: Feud: Bette and Joan
How do we feel about this series? I'll say overall I enjoyed it. I think Susan Sarandon and Jessica Lange did amazing jobs. In fact, everyone involved did really well. And the broader look at how difficult it was to be a woman—especially an older woman—in Hollywood was equally spot on. And continues to be relevant now.
Of course, I worry that whenever a show like this tries to embed social commentary in the spectacle, that commentary gets lost under the color and noise of the story. It's easy for people who don't want the system to change to ignore what's being said and just stay in the plot. One can discard the additional layers the way one eats just the frosting on a cake and throws away the rest.
But anyway. The arc of this particular season: Joan and Bette are each tapped for Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? We see how, for them this is a step down in the world, but they're desperate for whatever roles they can get. These two women, clinging to their heydays . . . And here, too, is where the message about women being disposable in the industry can also be subverted by anyone who would rather things remain the way they are. Because it's just as easy to say, "Those broads shoulda known when to let go and retire gracefully."
Of course, if they'd done that there would be no story.
Feud: Bette and Joan is as much a story of two strong personalities as anything else.
In any case, the arc goes on, through the troubled production—though it felt somewhat tame in this retelling—and the nasty Oscar race that followed (probably the best episodes of the season). And then continued to meander through each actress' career and personal life, though the second half of the season felt a little limp. They almost worked together again, but things got vicious (again), and then they lost touch and each slumped in her own way. It's tough to maintain tension at this point because they didn't work together again or even stay in touch from what we see. We can only marvel at the similarities and wonder at their lack of mutual compassion, even as one character points out to Bette that Joan is probably the only other person in the world who understands how she feels. But instead of commiserating, they bristle at one another. The two cats of Kilkenny come to mind.
Any time you retrace someone's life, you play a game of "if only." The missed opportunities, the what ifs. There's a lot of "it's too bad" in there, too. One can feel sorry for Bette and Joan, and one can also feel frustrated by them, but what's the lesson here? Aside from a sad story of two women struggling against a system stacked against them, that is? What can we take away and use? Because if there's nothing but the tragedy, we're really only voyeurs.
Of course, I worry that whenever a show like this tries to embed social commentary in the spectacle, that commentary gets lost under the color and noise of the story. It's easy for people who don't want the system to change to ignore what's being said and just stay in the plot. One can discard the additional layers the way one eats just the frosting on a cake and throws away the rest.
But anyway. The arc of this particular season: Joan and Bette are each tapped for Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? We see how, for them this is a step down in the world, but they're desperate for whatever roles they can get. These two women, clinging to their heydays . . . And here, too, is where the message about women being disposable in the industry can also be subverted by anyone who would rather things remain the way they are. Because it's just as easy to say, "Those broads shoulda known when to let go and retire gracefully."
Of course, if they'd done that there would be no story.
Feud: Bette and Joan is as much a story of two strong personalities as anything else.
In any case, the arc goes on, through the troubled production—though it felt somewhat tame in this retelling—and the nasty Oscar race that followed (probably the best episodes of the season). And then continued to meander through each actress' career and personal life, though the second half of the season felt a little limp. They almost worked together again, but things got vicious (again), and then they lost touch and each slumped in her own way. It's tough to maintain tension at this point because they didn't work together again or even stay in touch from what we see. We can only marvel at the similarities and wonder at their lack of mutual compassion, even as one character points out to Bette that Joan is probably the only other person in the world who understands how she feels. But instead of commiserating, they bristle at one another. The two cats of Kilkenny come to mind.
Any time you retrace someone's life, you play a game of "if only." The missed opportunities, the what ifs. There's a lot of "it's too bad" in there, too. One can feel sorry for Bette and Joan, and one can also feel frustrated by them, but what's the lesson here? Aside from a sad story of two women struggling against a system stacked against them, that is? What can we take away and use? Because if there's nothing but the tragedy, we're really only voyeurs.
3.13.2017
Television: Feud, "Pilot"
I've watched my share of Ryan Murphy: some seasons of American Horror Story, the first season of Scream Queens, American Crime Story (which he produced and directed some of but didn't write), and I did try Glee way back when it first started. In any case, I think Murphy has a definite brand, though I'd be hard pressed to name it. Maybe it's more of a spectrum? From glossy to gritty, from howlingly ridiculous to . . . slightly less ridiculous.
Given that spectrum, Feud fits squarely in the Murphy mold. It archly and colorfully examines the feud between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford at the time of their making Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. Their rivalry is Hollywood legend, of course, and quite vivid at a time when a certain amount of class was expected from the film elite. (Made the feuds all the more delicious, though—like a luscious dessert. Nowadays Twitter feuds make these things less of a treat.)
In the first episode of this mini, Joan Crawford (played by Murphy favorite Jessica Lange) is nearly bankrupt and searching for the right property (I'm speaking in the film sense rather than real estate) to restore her to Oscar glory. The scripts being offered her don't do her justice, at least not to her way of thinking, so she raids bookstores and finds Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. After reading it, she takes it to Robert Aldrich and promises him she'll also deliver a perfect co-star. She chases Bette Davis (Susan Sarandon) down on Broadway while Aldrich shops the story and strong arms Jack Warner (Stanley Tucci) into financing.
Of course there are problems even before shooting begins. Joan gets a glimpse of Bette's contract and sees Bette is getting more per week. And so it begins.
Since Murphy never met a frame story he didn't like, there's one here too: the conceit is that some kind of documentary is being filmed, and so people like Olivia de Havilland (Catherine Zeta-Jones) and Joan Blondell (Kathy Bates, another of Murphy's regulars) give tidbits of backstory about Joan and Bette.
Certainly this is an entertaining show and I'll continue to watch. So far it's not outrageous, but I'm sure—just based on the actual history of the subject matter—it's building to that. I will say I'm way more excited about the prospect of a Charles v Diana story line next season. In the meantime, I'll enjoy this one. There is, after all, a reason I keep watching Ryan Murphy shows. For the most part, they serve up the very thing(s) he promises. It's just a matter of deciding which of those things I want. In the case of Feud, yeah, I think there's room on my plate for a little.
Given that spectrum, Feud fits squarely in the Murphy mold. It archly and colorfully examines the feud between Bette Davis and Joan Crawford at the time of their making Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. Their rivalry is Hollywood legend, of course, and quite vivid at a time when a certain amount of class was expected from the film elite. (Made the feuds all the more delicious, though—like a luscious dessert. Nowadays Twitter feuds make these things less of a treat.)
In the first episode of this mini, Joan Crawford (played by Murphy favorite Jessica Lange) is nearly bankrupt and searching for the right property (I'm speaking in the film sense rather than real estate) to restore her to Oscar glory. The scripts being offered her don't do her justice, at least not to her way of thinking, so she raids bookstores and finds Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?. After reading it, she takes it to Robert Aldrich and promises him she'll also deliver a perfect co-star. She chases Bette Davis (Susan Sarandon) down on Broadway while Aldrich shops the story and strong arms Jack Warner (Stanley Tucci) into financing.
Of course there are problems even before shooting begins. Joan gets a glimpse of Bette's contract and sees Bette is getting more per week. And so it begins.
Since Murphy never met a frame story he didn't like, there's one here too: the conceit is that some kind of documentary is being filmed, and so people like Olivia de Havilland (Catherine Zeta-Jones) and Joan Blondell (Kathy Bates, another of Murphy's regulars) give tidbits of backstory about Joan and Bette.
Certainly this is an entertaining show and I'll continue to watch. So far it's not outrageous, but I'm sure—just based on the actual history of the subject matter—it's building to that. I will say I'm way more excited about the prospect of a Charles v Diana story line next season. In the meantime, I'll enjoy this one. There is, after all, a reason I keep watching Ryan Murphy shows. For the most part, they serve up the very thing(s) he promises. It's just a matter of deciding which of those things I want. In the case of Feud, yeah, I think there's room on my plate for a little.
10.16.2016
Movies: Snowden
Starring: Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Shailene Woodley, Melissa Leo, Rhys Ifans, Zachary Quinto
Directed By: Oliver Stone
Written By: Kieran Fitzgerald and Oliver Stone, from the books by Luke Harding and Anatoly Kucherena
Endgame Entertainment, 2016
R; 134 minutes
3.75 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
I know I should probably be more outraged than I am about the NSA culling private emails, phone calls, etc., but it's never fazed me. Still, I was glad to get a bigger sense of what was going on and how Snowden came to do what he did. Of course, with a movie like this, I kept asking myself what had been regrouped, so to speak, to make it easier to follow. What had been changed for dramatic effect. It can be difficult, after all, to make a bunch of computer stuff compelling for two hours.
They did a nice job of weaving Snowden's personal life into his career. I think this is largely done to make him sympathetic and personable. Otherwise Snowden would just be a weirdo. But while Shailene Woodley worked her tail off in this, I didn't feel the chemistry I needed to feel in order to buy in to the relationship. Maybe I'm supposed to read this as there being a barrier there put up by Snowden's secretive work, but it just came off as flat.
Still, that didn't mar the movie. There was a fun time of saying, "What's Nicolas Cage doing here?" and "What's Tom Wilkinson doing here?" because I didn't read anything about the film before going to see it. And then I had a great, "Look! Nicholas Rowe!" moment, which made me stupid happy and probably biased me for the rest of the film.
It's a good film. Nothing special in my book, but solid. Not the action-packed kinds of stuff audiences are used to these days, but . . . It gives a concise account of what happened, which I suppose is the point.
Directed By: Oliver Stone
Written By: Kieran Fitzgerald and Oliver Stone, from the books by Luke Harding and Anatoly Kucherena
Endgame Entertainment, 2016
R; 134 minutes
3.75 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
I know I should probably be more outraged than I am about the NSA culling private emails, phone calls, etc., but it's never fazed me. Still, I was glad to get a bigger sense of what was going on and how Snowden came to do what he did. Of course, with a movie like this, I kept asking myself what had been regrouped, so to speak, to make it easier to follow. What had been changed for dramatic effect. It can be difficult, after all, to make a bunch of computer stuff compelling for two hours.
They did a nice job of weaving Snowden's personal life into his career. I think this is largely done to make him sympathetic and personable. Otherwise Snowden would just be a weirdo. But while Shailene Woodley worked her tail off in this, I didn't feel the chemistry I needed to feel in order to buy in to the relationship. Maybe I'm supposed to read this as there being a barrier there put up by Snowden's secretive work, but it just came off as flat.
Still, that didn't mar the movie. There was a fun time of saying, "What's Nicolas Cage doing here?" and "What's Tom Wilkinson doing here?" because I didn't read anything about the film before going to see it. And then I had a great, "Look! Nicholas Rowe!" moment, which made me stupid happy and probably biased me for the rest of the film.
It's a good film. Nothing special in my book, but solid. Not the action-packed kinds of stuff audiences are used to these days, but . . . It gives a concise account of what happened, which I suppose is the point.
9.29.2016
Television: Very British Problems
This show from the UK is now finally available on Netflix here in the States and it's a lot of fun. Think of it as people-watching, but you're watching an entire culture. It's an anthropological experiment or something.
In truth, I identify with most of the VBPs because they're really kind of Very Introvert Problems as well. So when the show talks about the difficulties of interacting with, well, anyone ever, I definitely sympathize.
Added to the fun are the appearances by the likes of David Tennant, Catherine Tate, James Corden (to name the ones Americans might recognize), and others (that Americans are less likely to recognize but will still find amusing).
This is fluff television, something lightweight and undemanding for the nights when you're just too tired for anything that requires you to think or follow a plot. If you've exhausted House Hunters (is that even possible with so many different versions now?), you can turn to Very British Problems to fit the same bill.
In truth, I identify with most of the VBPs because they're really kind of Very Introvert Problems as well. So when the show talks about the difficulties of interacting with, well, anyone ever, I definitely sympathize.
Added to the fun are the appearances by the likes of David Tennant, Catherine Tate, James Corden (to name the ones Americans might recognize), and others (that Americans are less likely to recognize but will still find amusing).
This is fluff television, something lightweight and undemanding for the nights when you're just too tired for anything that requires you to think or follow a plot. If you've exhausted House Hunters (is that even possible with so many different versions now?), you can turn to Very British Problems to fit the same bill.
9.10.2016
Movies: For the Love of Spock
So I read that this was streaming, and I went to look for it, and we have one of those TVs where you talk into the remote and it does the search for you. I asked for "Spock" and it pulls up everything but this documentary. It says, "I found some spock selections for you." Spock selections? What, did he start a frozen dinner line? And WHY wasn't this documentary included in my "selections"?
Anyway, I did find it and watch it, and it was pretty well done. Originally conceived of as something that would focus on the character of Spock for the 50th anniversary of Star Trek, after the passing of Leonard Nimoy, For the Love of Spock became also a bit of a documentary about Nimoy's life and career, though still focusing on Spock and the role's impact on Nimoy's family. So the end result is kind of a mishmash, but not a bad one.
My parents used to take me to the Star Trek movies whenever they came out. I was too young for the first one, or maybe I just don't remember it, but I do recall The Wrath of Khan having quite an impact on me. But when I think of Spock, I think of my mother. She had what was, to me, an incomprehensible love for the character, and for Leonard Nimoy. I mean, I liked him fine, I guess, but Mom was a swooner. And I just couldn't understand it.
This documentary, then, gave me some insight. For one thing, some of those old photos made Nimoy look pretty attractive. I could see why my mom might crush a little. And as a person, he was so . . . personable. How could you not like him?
For the Love of Spock was directed by Adam Nimoy, with input from his father before his passing. They talk to a number of Trek veterans and fans, but these interviews are so spotty that it's difficult to pull any meaning from them. They're mostly just soundbites. Still and all, the final package is a slick and smooth overview of Nimoy's work as Spock and what that role meant to him, his family, as well as viewers. If you're a Trekkie, it's certainly worth a watch.
Anyway, I did find it and watch it, and it was pretty well done. Originally conceived of as something that would focus on the character of Spock for the 50th anniversary of Star Trek, after the passing of Leonard Nimoy, For the Love of Spock became also a bit of a documentary about Nimoy's life and career, though still focusing on Spock and the role's impact on Nimoy's family. So the end result is kind of a mishmash, but not a bad one.
My parents used to take me to the Star Trek movies whenever they came out. I was too young for the first one, or maybe I just don't remember it, but I do recall The Wrath of Khan having quite an impact on me. But when I think of Spock, I think of my mother. She had what was, to me, an incomprehensible love for the character, and for Leonard Nimoy. I mean, I liked him fine, I guess, but Mom was a swooner. And I just couldn't understand it.
This documentary, then, gave me some insight. For one thing, some of those old photos made Nimoy look pretty attractive. I could see why my mom might crush a little. And as a person, he was so . . . personable. How could you not like him?
For the Love of Spock was directed by Adam Nimoy, with input from his father before his passing. They talk to a number of Trek veterans and fans, but these interviews are so spotty that it's difficult to pull any meaning from them. They're mostly just soundbites. Still and all, the final package is a slick and smooth overview of Nimoy's work as Spock and what that role meant to him, his family, as well as viewers. If you're a Trekkie, it's certainly worth a watch.
9.06.2016
Small Actors
They're referred to as "A-list," but what does that mean, really? That they get paid top dollar? That they can "open a movie"? I actually see it as a weightiness. Some actors are heavy enough to hold down the big screen and some . . . aren't.
George Clooney is, in my mind, probably the Pet Rock Major of the cinema. That man pins the screen no matter what he's doing. Tom Cruise is up there, too. I'm no big fan of Cruise, but he has weight on the screen, and that's evident even in his early work. These are actors who don't need someone else on with them in order to hold a viewer's interest.
Think of the movie screen as a piece of paper left outside. A big enough rock like Clooney or Cruise can hold it down without any trouble. No breeze will blow that paper away. But some actors are smaller, more like pebbles. They need a couple helper rocks to keep the paper where it belongs.
I won't name names. But I will say that pebbles don't often become larger rocks. You kind of are or aren't a boulder. (A boulder, on the other hand, can be reduced to pebbles should the career fall apart.)
There's nothing wrong with being a pebble. Embrace who you are and work with those limitations. And, though there's talk of this being the golden age of television and television being as good or better than film, let's think of the small screen as a smaller sheet of paper. One a pebble might easily hold down without any trouble.
Many people might find this offensive. It's not meant to be. "You're telling me not to aim higher! You're trying to limit me!" I'm only suggesting you stay in your weight class. I'm practical that way.
George Clooney is, in my mind, probably the Pet Rock Major of the cinema. That man pins the screen no matter what he's doing. Tom Cruise is up there, too. I'm no big fan of Cruise, but he has weight on the screen, and that's evident even in his early work. These are actors who don't need someone else on with them in order to hold a viewer's interest.
Think of the movie screen as a piece of paper left outside. A big enough rock like Clooney or Cruise can hold it down without any trouble. No breeze will blow that paper away. But some actors are smaller, more like pebbles. They need a couple helper rocks to keep the paper where it belongs.
I won't name names. But I will say that pebbles don't often become larger rocks. You kind of are or aren't a boulder. (A boulder, on the other hand, can be reduced to pebbles should the career fall apart.)
There's nothing wrong with being a pebble. Embrace who you are and work with those limitations. And, though there's talk of this being the golden age of television and television being as good or better than film, let's think of the small screen as a smaller sheet of paper. One a pebble might easily hold down without any trouble.
Many people might find this offensive. It's not meant to be. "You're telling me not to aim higher! You're trying to limit me!" I'm only suggesting you stay in your weight class. I'm practical that way.
2.22.2016
Movies: Steve Jobs and Trumbo
So we watched these as a double-header the other night, and that was possibly a mistake. Both are biopics, but they don't mesh well together, and I think Trumbo suffered by comparison because we watched Steve Jobs first.
I haven't read the Isaacson biography, although I'd like to. The film, however, is very condensed and concise. It begins with the 1984 launch of the Lisa and weaves Jobs' professional ambitions with his personal tangents—namely his denial of Lisa as his daughter and his insistence that the computer was not named for her. The whole movie bounces this way in that it harnesses various major product launches to his relationship with Lisa and her mother. It's actually done very well and would make a good stage play. As someone with only a passing sense of the history of Apple, I found it educational. The film ends with the reveal of the iMac in 1998 while Jobs simultaneously brings Lisa back into his life. This means we don't get Pixar or any of the rest of Jobs' life or work history, but it's a satisfying enough chunk for entertainment purposes.
So after watching that, to turn to something as sprawling as Trumbo . . . Made Trumbo feel long and dull by comparison.
Though Steve Jobs doesn't have a lot of action, the film feels dynamic. In Trumbo, meanwhile, a lot is going on, yet it feels as if nothing is happening at all.
Dalton Trumbo was a screenwriter and an admitted Communist at a time when being a Communist was borderline criminal. The House Un-American Activities Commission was investigating Hollywood in the belief that Communist influences were using the industry to distribute propaganda. The result was a bunch of hearings in which some industry people named names and others, like Trumbo, refused to answer questions at all. He was held in contempt and served time then returned to screenwriting but, because he could not get work under his own name, he began writing under myriad pseudonyms.
On paper it sounds like a good movie. Maybe. But in truth there isn't much meat to it. Trumbo's perseverance . . . His steadfast character . . . Because he never wavers, he's not all that interesting to watch. Instead we're served a history lesson, a kind of: Here's a thing that happened. And we all nod and say, "Yeah, that happened. It shouldn't have. Um . . ." While Trumbo's résumé is impressive (Roman Holiday, Spartacus, The Brave One among others), and his punking the system is also kind of cool, none of it makes for particularly compelling viewing.
The real winner here may be actor Michael Stuhlbarg who appears in both Steve Jobs and Trumbo and is one of the best things about each. In Steve Jobs he plays Andy Hertzfeld, hapless underling, and in Trumbo he is Edward G. Robinson. When we saw him in Trumbo, I said, "That's the guy from Steve Jobs!" No one believed me so I looked it up on IMDb to prove myself. (I pride myself on being good with faces.) I thought he did solid work on both counts.
In short, I enjoyed Steve Jobs but didn't like Trumbo as much as I would have hoped, especially after it was recommended to me by so many. I can only conjecture I may have liked Trumbo better if I hadn't watched it right after Steve Jobs. I'll never know for sure. 'Tis the hazard of a double feature.
I haven't read the Isaacson biography, although I'd like to. The film, however, is very condensed and concise. It begins with the 1984 launch of the Lisa and weaves Jobs' professional ambitions with his personal tangents—namely his denial of Lisa as his daughter and his insistence that the computer was not named for her. The whole movie bounces this way in that it harnesses various major product launches to his relationship with Lisa and her mother. It's actually done very well and would make a good stage play. As someone with only a passing sense of the history of Apple, I found it educational. The film ends with the reveal of the iMac in 1998 while Jobs simultaneously brings Lisa back into his life. This means we don't get Pixar or any of the rest of Jobs' life or work history, but it's a satisfying enough chunk for entertainment purposes.
So after watching that, to turn to something as sprawling as Trumbo . . . Made Trumbo feel long and dull by comparison.
Though Steve Jobs doesn't have a lot of action, the film feels dynamic. In Trumbo, meanwhile, a lot is going on, yet it feels as if nothing is happening at all.
Dalton Trumbo was a screenwriter and an admitted Communist at a time when being a Communist was borderline criminal. The House Un-American Activities Commission was investigating Hollywood in the belief that Communist influences were using the industry to distribute propaganda. The result was a bunch of hearings in which some industry people named names and others, like Trumbo, refused to answer questions at all. He was held in contempt and served time then returned to screenwriting but, because he could not get work under his own name, he began writing under myriad pseudonyms.
On paper it sounds like a good movie. Maybe. But in truth there isn't much meat to it. Trumbo's perseverance . . . His steadfast character . . . Because he never wavers, he's not all that interesting to watch. Instead we're served a history lesson, a kind of: Here's a thing that happened. And we all nod and say, "Yeah, that happened. It shouldn't have. Um . . ." While Trumbo's résumé is impressive (Roman Holiday, Spartacus, The Brave One among others), and his punking the system is also kind of cool, none of it makes for particularly compelling viewing.
The real winner here may be actor Michael Stuhlbarg who appears in both Steve Jobs and Trumbo and is one of the best things about each. In Steve Jobs he plays Andy Hertzfeld, hapless underling, and in Trumbo he is Edward G. Robinson. When we saw him in Trumbo, I said, "That's the guy from Steve Jobs!" No one believed me so I looked it up on IMDb to prove myself. (I pride myself on being good with faces.) I thought he did solid work on both counts.
In short, I enjoyed Steve Jobs but didn't like Trumbo as much as I would have hoped, especially after it was recommended to me by so many. I can only conjecture I may have liked Trumbo better if I hadn't watched it right after Steve Jobs. I'll never know for sure. 'Tis the hazard of a double feature.
9.28.2015
Books: You're Never Weird on the Internet (Almost) by Felicia Day
Picked this one up prior to traveling to London and it was a nice, quick and easy read for the plane.
I am not, for the record, any particular fan of Ms. Day, though I've seen many of the shows she's been in (I'm a fan of Joss Whedon, so . . .) Why, then, did I decide to read her memoir? Because it sounded interesting. And as I read, I realized we have a lot of personality traits in common.
Anyway. It's a great little book that doesn't require Felicia Day fandom to enjoy or relate, though whether you find her life and experiences interesting may be predicated on how much you like . . . geekdom? Day doesn't say anything specific about time on the Buffy set or other such things, instead focusing on her own work with The Guild and Geek and Sundry. We do get a lot about commercials and auditions, though, and acting classes, etc. And a bit about conventions, of course. (I was the guest at conventions when I was at UT, back when fan fiction had to be published in zines rather than just slapped onto the Internet. I was a fanfic author of some renown at the time—well, and my Sherlock fic from a few years back is still considered the gold standard—and those conventions were so fun. Maybe I'll get to do it again some day. Thanks, Felicia, for giving me permission to own that I got my start writing fanfic before moving on to more "serious" work.)
Other topics covered include mental illness and Gamergate. On the whole, it's a somewhat spotty story, but a good one. Worth the little bit of time it takes to read.
I am not, for the record, any particular fan of Ms. Day, though I've seen many of the shows she's been in (I'm a fan of Joss Whedon, so . . .) Why, then, did I decide to read her memoir? Because it sounded interesting. And as I read, I realized we have a lot of personality traits in common.
- Weird upbringing in the American South? Check. (Though mine was distinctly different from hers, I was equally isolated and had difficulty making friends.)
- Crush on Commander Riker? Check. Named my favorite teddy bear William. Though later MacGyver became my man.
- Creating elaborate worlds that combined favorite book and TV/film characters? Check. Mine had Han Solo and Indiana Jones as identical cousins, Patty Duke style, and for some reason they all spent a lot of time on the Enterprise. Also time traveling into the antebellum South, cuz I love me some houses with big columns.
- Astrology? Check. I still read charts for friends.
- UT Austin? Check. In fact, it sounds as if we attended at about the same time.
- Obsessive/addictive nature? Check. For me it was TV shows and movies rather than video games, but yeah. You should see my scrapbooks.
- Having a friendly support group hold you accountable and get you to start writing? Check.
- A people-pleasing, perfectionist nature? Check. I didn't necessarily need kids my age to like me, but boy howdy did I want my teachers to love me. All my self-worth was caught up in that, and I still struggle with it.
- Wanting to erase yourself from the world (digital or otherwise)? Check. I went through that a few years back, deleting accounts left and right, and I'm starting to feel that way again now.
Anyway. It's a great little book that doesn't require Felicia Day fandom to enjoy or relate, though whether you find her life and experiences interesting may be predicated on how much you like . . . geekdom? Day doesn't say anything specific about time on the Buffy set or other such things, instead focusing on her own work with The Guild and Geek and Sundry. We do get a lot about commercials and auditions, though, and acting classes, etc. And a bit about conventions, of course. (I was the guest at conventions when I was at UT, back when fan fiction had to be published in zines rather than just slapped onto the Internet. I was a fanfic author of some renown at the time—well, and my Sherlock fic from a few years back is still considered the gold standard—and those conventions were so fun. Maybe I'll get to do it again some day. Thanks, Felicia, for giving me permission to own that I got my start writing fanfic before moving on to more "serious" work.)
Other topics covered include mental illness and Gamergate. On the whole, it's a somewhat spotty story, but a good one. Worth the little bit of time it takes to read.
Theatre: Hamlet at the Barbican (London)
I know it's something of a cliché to say Hamlet is your favorite Shakespeare play, but for me it is absolutely true. I'm original in a lot of ways, but in this one thing I am like so many others. I have performed, taught, and seen Hamlet so many times I can't even count, and I'm as like as anything to quote the play on almost a daily basis, or at least think the lines! Hamlet has a workable quote for just about anything.
As for this particular production, there is much good to be said of it. The set and production design blew me away. Just beautifully done. And it's an interesting choice to bring the time period into a sort of 1930s or 40s feel. Lends itself to nice costuming.
Edits to the original text . . . seem designed to give the fangirl audience more of what they came to see. I could do an entire other essay on celebrity in theatre, but I'll refrain from it here except to say that some of the choices for this production appeared to have been made to maximize Cumberbatch's time on stage and allow him to chew as much scenery as possible. For example, they've chosen to start the play with Hamlet on stage and have given him the famous first line of "Who's there?" They also have Hamlet play Lucianus. The soliloquies are literally spotlighted. And there are some moments that are just too, for lack of a better word, precious.
Still, none of this detracted from my overall enjoyment. Director Lydsey Turner has made some other interesting choices. The slow motion moments that occur when Hamlet is soliloquizing—things like that always make me think of the effort the actors are putting in. Hamlet's sense of humor has likewise been punched up (and Polonius' somewhat blunted, again allowing Cumberbatch to play to his audience). I will say that making so much of the soliloquies—the slo-mo, the spotlights—brings to the fore just how many there are. For the first time ever, in my long history of Hamlet, I was like, "Oh, really? Again?"
I was actually most impressed with Ciarán Hinds as Claudius. He conveys the idea of seething rage just under the surface very well, balancing it with false obsequiousness. Instead of fawning over Gertrude, he becomes sharp with her; even in moments when he's being kind (or pretending to be), there is a sense of his power and short temper. Siân Brooke as Ophelia was, for me, the weakest point, and I feel like Gertrude was given short shrift in this version, though Anastasia Hille was magnificent with the material she was given.
There are things about Hamlet in general (not specific to this production) that have long made me wonder . . . Like the fact Gertrude can give a detailed account of Ophelia's drowning and yet no one seems to have tried to save Ophelia. Someone saw it, right? That's how they know how it happened? Either Gertrude was there, or someone reported it to her, but either way . . . Why didn't anyone go fish her out of the brook? (I recently read a take that suggests Gertrude actually murders Ophelia, which is an interesting idea.) And Hamlet, for all his seeming introspection, doesn't appear to have a good sense of how his actions affect others. "Laertes is home? Why? And why is he so mad at me?" Um . . .
But anyway. It was a fine show. Definitely interesting and beautifully staged. I feel fortunate to have seen in live, but there will be a filmed broadcast on October 15. You can visit this site to see if it will be playing near you. (Look to the right column.)
Look, Benedict, I love you (I hope you know that), and maybe that's all you want out of life and your career—for people to love you. In which case you can pack up and go home because you've achieved that much. I see you are at least doing your best to leverage your popularity toward worthy causes, but Rob [Thomas] has done it better. Get organized about it if you want to make a real difference. As for your Hamlet, well, it was fine, though hardly groundbreaking. Maybe it's impossible to bring anything new to such an old and worn role. I would suggest, instead of playing parts that have already been done so many times by so many people (Holmes, Hamlet), and instead of pretending to be other people who've already lived (Assange, Turing), you find something truly unique and make it your own.
As for this particular production, there is much good to be said of it. The set and production design blew me away. Just beautifully done. And it's an interesting choice to bring the time period into a sort of 1930s or 40s feel. Lends itself to nice costuming.
Edits to the original text . . . seem designed to give the fangirl audience more of what they came to see. I could do an entire other essay on celebrity in theatre, but I'll refrain from it here except to say that some of the choices for this production appeared to have been made to maximize Cumberbatch's time on stage and allow him to chew as much scenery as possible. For example, they've chosen to start the play with Hamlet on stage and have given him the famous first line of "Who's there?" They also have Hamlet play Lucianus. The soliloquies are literally spotlighted. And there are some moments that are just too, for lack of a better word, precious.
Still, none of this detracted from my overall enjoyment. Director Lydsey Turner has made some other interesting choices. The slow motion moments that occur when Hamlet is soliloquizing—things like that always make me think of the effort the actors are putting in. Hamlet's sense of humor has likewise been punched up (and Polonius' somewhat blunted, again allowing Cumberbatch to play to his audience). I will say that making so much of the soliloquies—the slo-mo, the spotlights—brings to the fore just how many there are. For the first time ever, in my long history of Hamlet, I was like, "Oh, really? Again?"
I was actually most impressed with Ciarán Hinds as Claudius. He conveys the idea of seething rage just under the surface very well, balancing it with false obsequiousness. Instead of fawning over Gertrude, he becomes sharp with her; even in moments when he's being kind (or pretending to be), there is a sense of his power and short temper. Siân Brooke as Ophelia was, for me, the weakest point, and I feel like Gertrude was given short shrift in this version, though Anastasia Hille was magnificent with the material she was given.
There are things about Hamlet in general (not specific to this production) that have long made me wonder . . . Like the fact Gertrude can give a detailed account of Ophelia's drowning and yet no one seems to have tried to save Ophelia. Someone saw it, right? That's how they know how it happened? Either Gertrude was there, or someone reported it to her, but either way . . . Why didn't anyone go fish her out of the brook? (I recently read a take that suggests Gertrude actually murders Ophelia, which is an interesting idea.) And Hamlet, for all his seeming introspection, doesn't appear to have a good sense of how his actions affect others. "Laertes is home? Why? And why is he so mad at me?" Um . . .
But anyway. It was a fine show. Definitely interesting and beautifully staged. I feel fortunate to have seen in live, but there will be a filmed broadcast on October 15. You can visit this site to see if it will be playing near you. (Look to the right column.)
Look, Benedict, I love you (I hope you know that), and maybe that's all you want out of life and your career—for people to love you. In which case you can pack up and go home because you've achieved that much. I see you are at least doing your best to leverage your popularity toward worthy causes, but Rob [Thomas] has done it better. Get organized about it if you want to make a real difference. As for your Hamlet, well, it was fine, though hardly groundbreaking. Maybe it's impossible to bring anything new to such an old and worn role. I would suggest, instead of playing parts that have already been done so many times by so many people (Holmes, Hamlet), and instead of pretending to be other people who've already lived (Assange, Turing), you find something truly unique and make it your own.
6.22.2015
Television: HBO Sunday
So last night featured the new season of True Detective and the debuts of Ballers and The Brink.
I'm not sure how I feel about True Detective. In part, the show is likely suffering from heightened expectations. The first season was so phenomenal that it's almost impossible to recapture that. Also, I have ties to Louisiana, and even to the particular case in which a woman was found murdered in a cane field in Erath, so . . . There was no way a series set in SoCal was going to hit me the same way. Finally, Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey just had such great chemistry, and it's not clear that Vince Vaughn and Colin Farrell do (or even that they will share the screen that often).
What this season does serve up is a similar tone. The same dirty camera filters and yellowish lighting that suggests a haze of nicotine over everything. Still, I'm not sure I care about any of these characters. And there are almost too many of them this time around: Vaughn and Farrell and McAdams and Kitsch, and then of course McAdams and Farrell each have partners, and Vaughn has a lackey, and Kitsch has a girlfriend, etc. etc.
There are hints of Pizzolatto's fascination with cults, and there is a central murder that sets the stage for something that may be interesting, but on the whole I wasn't wowed. Maybe it will stitch together in a weird and wonderful way; I'll keep watching for now.
I wanted to try Ballers because (a) I had somewhat enjoyed Entourage back in the day (and Ballers is just Entourage with football players), and (b) I do love Dwayne Johnson. But I didn't find this one that entertaining or funny, so I don't know if I'll bother to watch it again.
The Brink was slightly funnier. Barely. Maybe HBO's humor just isn't my humor (Mr John Oliver being the great exception because I adore him). And, yeah, I do dislike the gratuitous sex and naked women that HBO serves up so regularly. A lot of it seems to be there for the sake of being there, sort of a, "Hey! We can get away with it because we're not network!" Sigh. Still, I'll probably give The Brink another go, more likely to stick with it than Ballers.
I guess if HBO gets its wish, I'll just leave the TV on between True Detective (assuming I keep watching this season) and John Oliver. It's a possibility.
I'm not sure how I feel about True Detective. In part, the show is likely suffering from heightened expectations. The first season was so phenomenal that it's almost impossible to recapture that. Also, I have ties to Louisiana, and even to the particular case in which a woman was found murdered in a cane field in Erath, so . . . There was no way a series set in SoCal was going to hit me the same way. Finally, Woody Harrelson and Matthew McConaughey just had such great chemistry, and it's not clear that Vince Vaughn and Colin Farrell do (or even that they will share the screen that often).
What this season does serve up is a similar tone. The same dirty camera filters and yellowish lighting that suggests a haze of nicotine over everything. Still, I'm not sure I care about any of these characters. And there are almost too many of them this time around: Vaughn and Farrell and McAdams and Kitsch, and then of course McAdams and Farrell each have partners, and Vaughn has a lackey, and Kitsch has a girlfriend, etc. etc.
There are hints of Pizzolatto's fascination with cults, and there is a central murder that sets the stage for something that may be interesting, but on the whole I wasn't wowed. Maybe it will stitch together in a weird and wonderful way; I'll keep watching for now.
I wanted to try Ballers because (a) I had somewhat enjoyed Entourage back in the day (and Ballers is just Entourage with football players), and (b) I do love Dwayne Johnson. But I didn't find this one that entertaining or funny, so I don't know if I'll bother to watch it again.
The Brink was slightly funnier. Barely. Maybe HBO's humor just isn't my humor (Mr John Oliver being the great exception because I adore him). And, yeah, I do dislike the gratuitous sex and naked women that HBO serves up so regularly. A lot of it seems to be there for the sake of being there, sort of a, "Hey! We can get away with it because we're not network!" Sigh. Still, I'll probably give The Brink another go, more likely to stick with it than Ballers.
I guess if HBO gets its wish, I'll just leave the TV on between True Detective (assuming I keep watching this season) and John Oliver. It's a possibility.
3.29.2015
Books: Funny Girl by Nick Hornby
I really liked Juliet, Naked, so it was unlikely any of Hornby's other books were going to touch my love for that one. But this one was near the mark. Maybe it's because I enjoy reading about "the biz."
I'll admit to having been a bit confused at first. See, I hadn't read the flap, so I didn't immediately realize the book was set in the 1960s. So for a while there—that first chapter or so before I looked at the flap—things seemed really strange. (An interesting lesson, since while writing Peter, my beta readers pointed out that they wouldn't have known it was set in the 60s if I hadn't told them. So I fixed that in the rewrites. But I guess all I really need is a book flap?)
Anyway, Funny Girl is about Barbara, who becomes Sophie when she becomes a television star. Barbara's big dream is to be a sitcom star like Lucille Ball. And thanks to her curvaceous body, her dreams come true. Now, I can't 100% love a book that's all about how being beautiful is the minimum requirement for wish fulfillment. Where does that leave the rest of us? But it's a cute book anyway.
Yes, Barbara is "discovered" by an agent, and then she changes her name to Sophie, and then she has a few flat auditions before hitting it off with a comedy writing team. And at this point the story branches out, and we see not only Sophie's life but the lives of those working with her, though it remains Sophie's story at heart. She's a likable enough character, a mixture of clever and naive, with sincerity to boot. But she's not the most interesting of any of them.
We see writers Tony and Bill: Tony in his awkward, asexual marriage; Bill in his rebellious anger at the system (it's the 60s and Bill is homosexual to boot). We see Dennis, the producer with the unraveling marriage as his snooty wife looks down on his work in comedy. And we see Sophie's co-star Clive, the poster boy for shallow actors everywhere, always worried about how the public perceives him.
It seems insane, of course, that Sophie lands a hit show on her first outing, but "the biz" is a strange place, and these things do happen. Funny Girl follows the show through three series (that's seasons in American), and the way the show affects all the interpersonal relationships of those involved. It is, all told, not a terribly complicated book. There's something very matter-of-fact about it, really. And it's a quick read.
We get a glimpse of what happens after the show ends, and we see a reunion, and . . . Yeah.
It's a sweet book that's mostly about the divisions between generations and the way those divisions are reflected in the media. Which sounds ridiculous given the plot I've just sketched, but believe me, that's the subtext. Do media follow trend or do media set trend? A little of both, I'd wager. Good media catch on early and ride the crest of the wave.
In any case, Hornby poses the discussion in an entertaining way.
I'll admit to having been a bit confused at first. See, I hadn't read the flap, so I didn't immediately realize the book was set in the 1960s. So for a while there—that first chapter or so before I looked at the flap—things seemed really strange. (An interesting lesson, since while writing Peter, my beta readers pointed out that they wouldn't have known it was set in the 60s if I hadn't told them. So I fixed that in the rewrites. But I guess all I really need is a book flap?)
Anyway, Funny Girl is about Barbara, who becomes Sophie when she becomes a television star. Barbara's big dream is to be a sitcom star like Lucille Ball. And thanks to her curvaceous body, her dreams come true. Now, I can't 100% love a book that's all about how being beautiful is the minimum requirement for wish fulfillment. Where does that leave the rest of us? But it's a cute book anyway.
Yes, Barbara is "discovered" by an agent, and then she changes her name to Sophie, and then she has a few flat auditions before hitting it off with a comedy writing team. And at this point the story branches out, and we see not only Sophie's life but the lives of those working with her, though it remains Sophie's story at heart. She's a likable enough character, a mixture of clever and naive, with sincerity to boot. But she's not the most interesting of any of them.
We see writers Tony and Bill: Tony in his awkward, asexual marriage; Bill in his rebellious anger at the system (it's the 60s and Bill is homosexual to boot). We see Dennis, the producer with the unraveling marriage as his snooty wife looks down on his work in comedy. And we see Sophie's co-star Clive, the poster boy for shallow actors everywhere, always worried about how the public perceives him.
It seems insane, of course, that Sophie lands a hit show on her first outing, but "the biz" is a strange place, and these things do happen. Funny Girl follows the show through three series (that's seasons in American), and the way the show affects all the interpersonal relationships of those involved. It is, all told, not a terribly complicated book. There's something very matter-of-fact about it, really. And it's a quick read.
We get a glimpse of what happens after the show ends, and we see a reunion, and . . . Yeah.
It's a sweet book that's mostly about the divisions between generations and the way those divisions are reflected in the media. Which sounds ridiculous given the plot I've just sketched, but believe me, that's the subtext. Do media follow trend or do media set trend? A little of both, I'd wager. Good media catch on early and ride the crest of the wave.
In any case, Hornby poses the discussion in an entertaining way.
3.14.2015
Movies: Whiplash
I went into this one knowing nothing except J.K. Simmons took home the Academy Award for it. Now I know why. Though I guess the Academy thinks Miles Teller needs to pay a few more dues, but honestly, he did a fabulous job as well.
Teller plays Andrew, a driven, first-year music student at supposedly the finest conservatory in the nation (which means, of course, it's in New York). Andrew is a drummer, and he's picked out by Fletcher (Simmons) to join the Studio Band, which is the elite performance group for the school. Fletcher's teaching methods are extreme to say the least; he is, as some would call it, a "pusher" in the sense that no matter how good a student is, it's never good enough. To keep Andrew on his toes, Fletcher brings in another drummer so that Andrew is ever under threat of being replaced, ever required to prove himself and earn his spot on stage. Andrew drops his girlfriend and focuses solely on becoming "one of the greats."
Fletcher pushes Andrew so far that at one point Andrew stumbles away from a car accident with only the thought of getting to the performance on time. He tries to play while half covered in blood, and when Fletcher orders him off stage, Andrew attacks him.
Turns out that Andrew isn't the first of Fletcher's students to come unraveled; a prior student had recently committed suicide, and the parents blame Fletcher. So Andrew "testifies" (for lack of a better word), supposedly anonymously, against Fletcher and his tactics. Andrew has already been expelled after attacking Fletcher physically, so he has little left to lose.
But then Fletcher invites Andrew to play at a local jazz festival . . .
I'll leave the rest to your imagination, or for you to go and watch for yourself.
It's a simple film but marvelously done. Brutal in places, and raw, which is the point. I only wish some of these talented filmmakers would come make 20 August. I think they could lend some real beauty to it.
Teller plays Andrew, a driven, first-year music student at supposedly the finest conservatory in the nation (which means, of course, it's in New York). Andrew is a drummer, and he's picked out by Fletcher (Simmons) to join the Studio Band, which is the elite performance group for the school. Fletcher's teaching methods are extreme to say the least; he is, as some would call it, a "pusher" in the sense that no matter how good a student is, it's never good enough. To keep Andrew on his toes, Fletcher brings in another drummer so that Andrew is ever under threat of being replaced, ever required to prove himself and earn his spot on stage. Andrew drops his girlfriend and focuses solely on becoming "one of the greats."
Fletcher pushes Andrew so far that at one point Andrew stumbles away from a car accident with only the thought of getting to the performance on time. He tries to play while half covered in blood, and when Fletcher orders him off stage, Andrew attacks him.
Turns out that Andrew isn't the first of Fletcher's students to come unraveled; a prior student had recently committed suicide, and the parents blame Fletcher. So Andrew "testifies" (for lack of a better word), supposedly anonymously, against Fletcher and his tactics. Andrew has already been expelled after attacking Fletcher physically, so he has little left to lose.
But then Fletcher invites Andrew to play at a local jazz festival . . .
I'll leave the rest to your imagination, or for you to go and watch for yourself.
It's a simple film but marvelously done. Brutal in places, and raw, which is the point. I only wish some of these talented filmmakers would come make 20 August. I think they could lend some real beauty to it.
Movies: Cinderella
Starring: Lily James, Cate Blanchett, Richard Madden, Helena Bonham Carter
Directed By: Kenneth Branagh
Written By: Chris Weitz
Walt Disney, 2015
PG; 112 minutes
3 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
A solid enough take on the fairy tale, if lacking anything fresh.
It's the same old story: Happy young Ella has two loving parents. Her father is an upper middle-class merchant. But then Ella's mother takes ill and dies, and in time the father remarries. Then he, too, dies and Ella is left to the harsh abuse of her stepmother and stepsisters. Ella strives to be kind and courageous—a lingering promise she made to her mother—in the face of overwhelming cruelty.
And why are the stepmother and stepsisters so cruel? Jealousy, one supposes, or simply because they can be and like to exercise power whenever possible. We do see the stepmother eavesdrop as Ella's father tells Ella he loves her and still misses her mother. This certainly must put some spike in stepmama's punch. I guess it's a nod to there being a reason for this woman to behave so badly; in the fairy tale, and even in the animated classic, the ruling presumption is that some people are just bad. Though one might at least be left wondering why Ella's father, by all accounts a kind and loving man, married this woman in the first place.
As for the stepsisters, one assumes they're going by example.
Some of the touches from the 1950s cartoon are on display: fat little Gus the mouse, and the cat Lucifer, and even the stepsisters retain the names Drisella and Anastasia, and the family name remains Tremaine. We're also treated to a fair share of Mickey Mouse designs in the house.
Lily James does a nice enough job, though there were moments she reminded me a bit of Jessica Lange for some reason. Cate Blanchett as the stepmother wields her proficient screen power in the same way as Bette Davis of old, and I was pleasantly surprised to see Sir Derek Jacobi in the role of the king. Richard Madden, too, does a nice job with the little he's given. And Nonso Anozie has quite a presence as a captain in the king's guard; I look forward to seeing him in Pan.
My daughter and all the little girls filling the cinema were suitably impressed with the film; in particular the transformation scenes of pumpkins becoming carriages and, later, returning to pumpkin form. The power of big, beautiful dresses cannot be denied. But afterward my daughter declared, "But all that death and dying! I didn't like it!"
The upshot of the film, if one bothers to think about it much, must be that kindness will be rewarded (eventually) . . . Rather a sense of karma, or "what you put out into the universe comes back to you" or something. And that true royalty is something internal rather than external, not something you're born to but something you project. This gives hope to all the little girls who visit Disneyland and Disney World, for even as Ella in the movie says, "But I'm not a real princess!" she is told to enjoy it [the ball, which may as well be an allegory for the Disney amusement parks] while she can.
Today you may be a Disney princess, but tomorrow it may be back to the attic with you . . . Just keep faith and keep being kind, bear up under terrible odds, and some day it may pay off when a powerful man sees your worth. Or something.
Directed By: Kenneth Branagh
Written By: Chris Weitz
Walt Disney, 2015
PG; 112 minutes
3 stars (out of 5)
_______________________________________________________
A solid enough take on the fairy tale, if lacking anything fresh.
It's the same old story: Happy young Ella has two loving parents. Her father is an upper middle-class merchant. But then Ella's mother takes ill and dies, and in time the father remarries. Then he, too, dies and Ella is left to the harsh abuse of her stepmother and stepsisters. Ella strives to be kind and courageous—a lingering promise she made to her mother—in the face of overwhelming cruelty.
And why are the stepmother and stepsisters so cruel? Jealousy, one supposes, or simply because they can be and like to exercise power whenever possible. We do see the stepmother eavesdrop as Ella's father tells Ella he loves her and still misses her mother. This certainly must put some spike in stepmama's punch. I guess it's a nod to there being a reason for this woman to behave so badly; in the fairy tale, and even in the animated classic, the ruling presumption is that some people are just bad. Though one might at least be left wondering why Ella's father, by all accounts a kind and loving man, married this woman in the first place.
As for the stepsisters, one assumes they're going by example.
Some of the touches from the 1950s cartoon are on display: fat little Gus the mouse, and the cat Lucifer, and even the stepsisters retain the names Drisella and Anastasia, and the family name remains Tremaine. We're also treated to a fair share of Mickey Mouse designs in the house.
Lily James does a nice enough job, though there were moments she reminded me a bit of Jessica Lange for some reason. Cate Blanchett as the stepmother wields her proficient screen power in the same way as Bette Davis of old, and I was pleasantly surprised to see Sir Derek Jacobi in the role of the king. Richard Madden, too, does a nice job with the little he's given. And Nonso Anozie has quite a presence as a captain in the king's guard; I look forward to seeing him in Pan.
My daughter and all the little girls filling the cinema were suitably impressed with the film; in particular the transformation scenes of pumpkins becoming carriages and, later, returning to pumpkin form. The power of big, beautiful dresses cannot be denied. But afterward my daughter declared, "But all that death and dying! I didn't like it!"
The upshot of the film, if one bothers to think about it much, must be that kindness will be rewarded (eventually) . . . Rather a sense of karma, or "what you put out into the universe comes back to you" or something. And that true royalty is something internal rather than external, not something you're born to but something you project. This gives hope to all the little girls who visit Disneyland and Disney World, for even as Ella in the movie says, "But I'm not a real princess!" she is told to enjoy it [the ball, which may as well be an allegory for the Disney amusement parks] while she can.
Today you may be a Disney princess, but tomorrow it may be back to the attic with you . . . Just keep faith and keep being kind, bear up under terrible odds, and some day it may pay off when a powerful man sees your worth. Or something.
2.17.2015
Television: Gotham, "The Blind Fortune Teller"
More origin stories. Apparently we're going with Jerome as the Joker's name in this version. Also, every time I see Mark Margolis, I can only think of that ST:TNG episode: "I'm not the fool you take me for!"
We also meet Robin's parents, but unless this show skips ahead by a lot between seasons, we may never get around to meeting Robin (Dick Grayson) himself.
So what do we have? Well, Jim Gordon takes his new squeeze to the circus only to have to intervene when a fight breaks out and a snake dancer named Lila is discovered murdered. We get Mark Margolis as a blind fortune teller named Cicero who claims to be receiving messages from Lila. Jim isn't buying it, but Leslie is keen to investigate. After some roundabout logic, it's determined Cicero is lying to cover for Lila's son Jerome, who, as it turns out, is also Cicero's son. The kid playing Jerome (Cameron Monaghan) does a pretty nice job of flipping the personality switch, but if we were supposed to be surprised by the reveal at the end, well, I wasn't; I called it the moment we met Jerome.
Barbara returns to the penthouse only to find Jim gone and Cat and Ivy hanging out. They give her some fashion advice, and she sets out to win Jim back only to find him liplocked with Leslie. He never even sees Barbara. Which is fine because we don't want to see her either. She's a drip of a character, though I suspect they're building toward something?
And Fish Mooney is rallying her troops against whatever black marketeers are holding her and her new band of misfits prisoner. Her negotiating tactics earn her face time with the manager, which I guess we'll see happen next week.
Penguin's terrible taste in music is brining the nightclub down, so a reprogrammed Butch is installed to help Penguin retune.
Bruce addresses the board at Wayne Enterprises. ::yawn::
All in all a solid enough episode. I do feel like they're stocking the pond a bit much here, though; there are almost too many characters now, and they might have done better to dole them out fewer and farther between.
We also meet Robin's parents, but unless this show skips ahead by a lot between seasons, we may never get around to meeting Robin (Dick Grayson) himself.
So what do we have? Well, Jim Gordon takes his new squeeze to the circus only to have to intervene when a fight breaks out and a snake dancer named Lila is discovered murdered. We get Mark Margolis as a blind fortune teller named Cicero who claims to be receiving messages from Lila. Jim isn't buying it, but Leslie is keen to investigate. After some roundabout logic, it's determined Cicero is lying to cover for Lila's son Jerome, who, as it turns out, is also Cicero's son. The kid playing Jerome (Cameron Monaghan) does a pretty nice job of flipping the personality switch, but if we were supposed to be surprised by the reveal at the end, well, I wasn't; I called it the moment we met Jerome.
Barbara returns to the penthouse only to find Jim gone and Cat and Ivy hanging out. They give her some fashion advice, and she sets out to win Jim back only to find him liplocked with Leslie. He never even sees Barbara. Which is fine because we don't want to see her either. She's a drip of a character, though I suspect they're building toward something?
And Fish Mooney is rallying her troops against whatever black marketeers are holding her and her new band of misfits prisoner. Her negotiating tactics earn her face time with the manager, which I guess we'll see happen next week.
Penguin's terrible taste in music is brining the nightclub down, so a reprogrammed Butch is installed to help Penguin retune.
Bruce addresses the board at Wayne Enterprises. ::yawn::
All in all a solid enough episode. I do feel like they're stocking the pond a bit much here, though; there are almost too many characters now, and they might have done better to dole them out fewer and farther between.
1.15.2015
Got No Game
I had an agent mention The Imitation Game and call it "cheesy." In truth, I have zero desire to see it. All my gay friends tell me it's awful, and I trust their judgement on this one. The ads alone make me cringe. I can't imagine how Benedict Cumberbatch wrangled an Oscar nomination when it's so clear he's trying too hard. Acting shouldn't call that much attention to itself (except possibly on stage). Cumberbatch, on the other hand, comes off as desperate for attention. And that's just in the ads; God knows how much worse 2+ hours of it might be.
1.09.2015
Television: Broadchurch 2.1
I love this show.
I don't love David Tennant's neck beard, but the rest is pretty terrific.
There are really a limited number of ways to go on from where the first season of Broadchurch ended. They could either have skipped ahead by a lot, or they could pick it up where they left off. They chose the latter. And that's good, because the situation is rife with the kind of tension that makes for good drama.
Joe is up for his plea and sentencing. There seems to be no question he'll plead guilty given the fact he's confessed. Right? But of course there wouldn't be much to it if it were that easy. So he pleads not guilty, to everyone's surprise, even his advocate's. He claims he can't go to prison, not as a child killer. Hmm. Probably should've thought about that before, you know, killing a child. #lackofforesight
The plea sets everyone on edge. They were expecting closure but now must face a full trial. And if Joe gets away with murder? Broadchurch is already coming apart at the seams, but if Joe were to walk free, it really will tear the town apart. If the trial itself doesn't.
All right, so where is Ellie in all this? Working traffic stops in Devon, apparently. She has Fred, but Tom doesn't want anything to do with her, so Olly and his mother (Ellie's sister) are looking after him. And we discover Tom is also being looked after by Mark Latimer, who meets with Tom to play video games in Susan Wright's abandoned caravan (that's "trailer" to U.S. viewers).
Beth, meanwhile, is ready to pop with the new baby. And we discover Reverend Paul is now seeing Becca.
But of course the biggest new plot line is that Alec is hiding a woman named Claire from a man named Lee Ashworth. The show was going to have to confront whatever happened at Sandbrook sooner or later, and this is it: Claire was the wife of the chief suspect (Lee), the man who walked free after Alec took the blame for the case going wrong. Alec had promised Claire during the investigation that Lee would be going to prison for life and she had no reason to worry about testifying against him. Guess how that went? So with Lee loose and free, Alec has hidden Claire away. And Lee has found them.
Yes, yes, Eve Myles (Torchwood) is Claire. But far more interesting (to me) James D'Arcy is Lee! You may remember him from such recent posts as my coverage of the Agent Carter premiere; he plays Jarvis. How fun to see him in two such different roles!
Alec confesses all this to Ellie in order to get Ellie (with Fred) to move into the house where Claire is hiding. Two women with child-killing husbands . . . Could be a new kind of sitcom?
Oh, and there's stuff about what we would call lawyers, but that stuff hasn't gotten all that interesting yet (though yay for Charlotte Rampling!). Something to do with Rampling's character Jocelyn prosecuting on behalf of the Millers only because she can't stand to see her once protegée win as she defends Joe. There's clearly a history here, but we're only going to get it in fits and starts.
A promising start. I'm lukewarm on the Claire plot, but the rest is good, and that one may eventually warm up in tasty ways.
I don't love David Tennant's neck beard, but the rest is pretty terrific.
There are really a limited number of ways to go on from where the first season of Broadchurch ended. They could either have skipped ahead by a lot, or they could pick it up where they left off. They chose the latter. And that's good, because the situation is rife with the kind of tension that makes for good drama.
Joe is up for his plea and sentencing. There seems to be no question he'll plead guilty given the fact he's confessed. Right? But of course there wouldn't be much to it if it were that easy. So he pleads not guilty, to everyone's surprise, even his advocate's. He claims he can't go to prison, not as a child killer. Hmm. Probably should've thought about that before, you know, killing a child. #lackofforesight
The plea sets everyone on edge. They were expecting closure but now must face a full trial. And if Joe gets away with murder? Broadchurch is already coming apart at the seams, but if Joe were to walk free, it really will tear the town apart. If the trial itself doesn't.
All right, so where is Ellie in all this? Working traffic stops in Devon, apparently. She has Fred, but Tom doesn't want anything to do with her, so Olly and his mother (Ellie's sister) are looking after him. And we discover Tom is also being looked after by Mark Latimer, who meets with Tom to play video games in Susan Wright's abandoned caravan (that's "trailer" to U.S. viewers).
Beth, meanwhile, is ready to pop with the new baby. And we discover Reverend Paul is now seeing Becca.
But of course the biggest new plot line is that Alec is hiding a woman named Claire from a man named Lee Ashworth. The show was going to have to confront whatever happened at Sandbrook sooner or later, and this is it: Claire was the wife of the chief suspect (Lee), the man who walked free after Alec took the blame for the case going wrong. Alec had promised Claire during the investigation that Lee would be going to prison for life and she had no reason to worry about testifying against him. Guess how that went? So with Lee loose and free, Alec has hidden Claire away. And Lee has found them.
Yes, yes, Eve Myles (Torchwood) is Claire. But far more interesting (to me) James D'Arcy is Lee! You may remember him from such recent posts as my coverage of the Agent Carter premiere; he plays Jarvis. How fun to see him in two such different roles!
Alec confesses all this to Ellie in order to get Ellie (with Fred) to move into the house where Claire is hiding. Two women with child-killing husbands . . . Could be a new kind of sitcom?
Oh, and there's stuff about what we would call lawyers, but that stuff hasn't gotten all that interesting yet (though yay for Charlotte Rampling!). Something to do with Rampling's character Jocelyn prosecuting on behalf of the Millers only because she can't stand to see her once protegée win as she defends Joe. There's clearly a history here, but we're only going to get it in fits and starts.
A promising start. I'm lukewarm on the Claire plot, but the rest is good, and that one may eventually warm up in tasty ways.
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