Mom can't quite make up its mind, at least in the pilot, what kind of sitcom it wants to be. There's a wacky workplace sitcom about our central character Christy (Anna Faris), who's a waitress at an upscale restaurant; Nate Corddry is her blandly stuffy boss and French Stewart, still gifted with the ability to milk huge laughs from punch lines that aren't really very funny, as the pompous chef.
There's a domestic sitcom about Christy the single mom of two, teenage Violet (Sadie Valvano) and pre-teen Roscoe (Blake Garret Rosenthal), dealing with Violet's dimwitted boyfriend (Spencer Daniels) and Roscoe's irresponsible dad (Matt Jones).
And there's the most interesting show of the bunch, in which Christy, an alcoholic who's just hit four months of sobriety, is horrified by the reappearance of her estranged mother, Bonnie (Allison Janney). Bonnie's been sober for a few years now, and wants to mend fences with Christy, who wants none of it.
But Christy worries that Violet is on track to repeat the same mistakes she made, and feels compelled to build a new relationship with Bonnie when Violet challenges her: If you can't forgive your mother for her bad parenting, then why should I forgive you for yours?
Mom is at its best when the focus is on the relationship between Christy and Bonnie; when Faris and Janney are on screen together, it has the makings of something very special. But of the many possible versions of Mom, that's probably the hardest to write, and it's been a long time since Chuck Lorre showed much willingness to rise above the easy. The pilot is good enough to keep me watching in hope, but I fear that it probably won't live up to its potential.
September 25, 2013
BOOKS: Openly Straight, Bill Konigsberg (2013)
Rafe has been openly gay since he was in the eighth grade. And in Boulder, Colorado, it really hasn't been a big deal. His parents are almost ridiculously supportive, to the point of throwing him a surprise coming out party at Hamburger Mary's, and his classmates haven't hassled him about it.
But even so, Rafe can't help but feel boxed in by the idea that everyone sees him as The Gay Kid; he fears that his social circles and range of potential friends are being limited by that perception. So when he transfers to an all-male boarding school in Boston for his junior year, he decides not to mention being gay to anyone. He won't go so far as to lie if someone asks a direct question, he tells himself, but he'd like to see what life might be like if he gets the chance to be just Rafe without being The Gay Kid.
The plan seems to be a success at first; Rafe quickly falls in with a group of the school's jocks, not at all the sort of artsy/nerdy types he'd hung with in Boulder. But inevitably, Rafe falls for one of his new friends, and wonders if there's a way to turn this friendship into something more.
Konigsberg does a fine job of lightening his serious issues with a lively sense of humor; the conversations between Rafe and his new pal Ben capture perfectly the way that smart kids meander between goofiness and profundity. He lets the consequences of Rafe's decision play out in an honest manner, without imposing an artificially happy outcome, but still finds a way to end things on a realistically hopeful note.
But even so, Rafe can't help but feel boxed in by the idea that everyone sees him as The Gay Kid; he fears that his social circles and range of potential friends are being limited by that perception. So when he transfers to an all-male boarding school in Boston for his junior year, he decides not to mention being gay to anyone. He won't go so far as to lie if someone asks a direct question, he tells himself, but he'd like to see what life might be like if he gets the chance to be just Rafe without being The Gay Kid.
The plan seems to be a success at first; Rafe quickly falls in with a group of the school's jocks, not at all the sort of artsy/nerdy types he'd hung with in Boulder. But inevitably, Rafe falls for one of his new friends, and wonders if there's a way to turn this friendship into something more.
Konigsberg does a fine job of lightening his serious issues with a lively sense of humor; the conversations between Rafe and his new pal Ben capture perfectly the way that smart kids meander between goofiness and profundity. He lets the consequences of Rafe's decision play out in an honest manner, without imposing an artificially happy outcome, but still finds a way to end things on a realistically hopeful note.
Labels:
Books
September 24, 2013
BOOKS: California Rush, Sherwood Kiraly (1990)
For the most part, baseball's a simple game. Hit the ball, throw the ball, catch the ball, run the bases. But some strange things can happen, and there are a lot of obscure rules that pop up when they do. And so every now and then, someone writes a story about that mythical game in which all of those things happen, the most bizarre game of baseball every played. Sherwood Kiraly's California Rush is such a story, and it's an entertaining take on the theme.
The first two-thirds of the book meanders a bit, as we stroll casually through the careers of the men who will be the opposing managers in the key game. Davy Tremayne is a golden boy -- attractive, talented, popular with the fans. Jay Bates, on the other hand, is a short-tempered fellow who will bend the rules as far as they'll go to get an edge.
But the meandering pays off, because by the time we get to the final game, in which Davy is managing (and playing for) St. Louis, and Jay is managing the California Rush expansion team, we know them well enough to understand their behavior and their reactions to the bizarre events that unfold. And a wild game it is, unfolding in so unlikely a fashion that one player refuses to continue, believing that this game can only be the work of the devil, and it would be sacrilegious to keep playing.
California Rush is by no stretch great literature, and if you're not interested in baseball, you'll be bored to death by it. But for baseball fans, it's a moderately amusing story, and Kiraly manages to keep finding new bizarre plays and rule interpretations to throw into the final 50 pages.
The first two-thirds of the book meanders a bit, as we stroll casually through the careers of the men who will be the opposing managers in the key game. Davy Tremayne is a golden boy -- attractive, talented, popular with the fans. Jay Bates, on the other hand, is a short-tempered fellow who will bend the rules as far as they'll go to get an edge.
But the meandering pays off, because by the time we get to the final game, in which Davy is managing (and playing for) St. Louis, and Jay is managing the California Rush expansion team, we know them well enough to understand their behavior and their reactions to the bizarre events that unfold. And a wild game it is, unfolding in so unlikely a fashion that one player refuses to continue, believing that this game can only be the work of the devil, and it would be sacrilegious to keep playing.
California Rush is by no stretch great literature, and if you're not interested in baseball, you'll be bored to death by it. But for baseball fans, it's a moderately amusing story, and Kiraly manages to keep finding new bizarre plays and rule interpretations to throw into the final 50 pages.
Labels:
Books
September 23, 2013
BOOKS: More Than This, Patrick Ness (2013)
In a brief prologue, we are with a 16-year-old boy who has swum too far out into the ocean. It's cold, he's losing strength, and he's terrified. He knows he's about to die, and it comes almost as mercy when instead of the long, slow agony of drowning, he is dashed against the rocks and killed instantly.
And then, at the beginning of Chapter 1, he wakes up.
Seth finds himself in the English village of his childhood, but it's deserted, with overgrown weeds everywhere and a thick layer of dust covering everything. The local supermarket has plenty of canned food that hasn't gone bad, so he's in no danger of starvation. But how can he possibly be here at all, apparently still alive? Where is everyone? And why is there a shiny black coffin in the middle of his bedroom?
The terror and mystery of this complete isolation may not be the worst thing in store for Seth, though, because when he falls asleep, he dreams. His dreams are intensely realistic, and in all of them, he's forced to relive the most painful moments in his life.
Ness tells a terrifically twisty story about reality and fantasy, the importance of friendship, the pain of loneliness (and of life in general), and the desperate measures we will take to escape that pain, or to at least make it more bearable. The characters (no, Seth doesn't remain alone for the entire book) are lively and memorable; I particularly liked Tomasz, an 11-year-old Polish boy who grumbles in grandly comic style about how unappreciated his acts of bravery are.
More Than This is a marvelous book. It's creative, thought-provoking, and very hard to put down.
And then, at the beginning of Chapter 1, he wakes up.
Seth finds himself in the English village of his childhood, but it's deserted, with overgrown weeds everywhere and a thick layer of dust covering everything. The local supermarket has plenty of canned food that hasn't gone bad, so he's in no danger of starvation. But how can he possibly be here at all, apparently still alive? Where is everyone? And why is there a shiny black coffin in the middle of his bedroom?
The terror and mystery of this complete isolation may not be the worst thing in store for Seth, though, because when he falls asleep, he dreams. His dreams are intensely realistic, and in all of them, he's forced to relive the most painful moments in his life.
Ness tells a terrifically twisty story about reality and fantasy, the importance of friendship, the pain of loneliness (and of life in general), and the desperate measures we will take to escape that pain, or to at least make it more bearable. The characters (no, Seth doesn't remain alone for the entire book) are lively and memorable; I particularly liked Tomasz, an 11-year-old Polish boy who grumbles in grandly comic style about how unappreciated his acts of bravery are.
More Than This is a marvelous book. It's creative, thought-provoking, and very hard to put down.
Labels:
Books
September 21, 2013
TV: Ironside (Wed 10, NBC)
Premieres October 2; pilot currently available at Hulu.
Because Ironside is a 21st-century police procedural, we are obliged to begin with a scene in which Robert Ironside (Blair Underwood) demonstrates that using a wheelchair is no obstacle to his committing illegal interrogations and acts of police brutality. And because Ironside is a 21st-century police procedural, the principal crime in the pilot is the death of a pretty young white woman, whose corpse is seen surrounded by an ample pool of blood.
Ironside heads up his own hand-picked team of detectives as the result of a settlement following his being shot on the job two years earlier. The detectives are the obligatory Mod Squad of police sidekicks -- one pretty female (Spencer Grammer), two hunky males (Pablo Schreiber and Neal Bledsoe) -- none of whom is allowed to have any personality, because that might pull focus away from Underwood, and this, by god, is a star vehicle. There's also the obligatory grumpy "why can't you follow the rules, Ironside?" captain, played by Kenneth Choi with even less personality than the Mod Squad. The only supporting character who does have much personality is Ironside's former partner (Brent Sexton), still on extended leave and struggling with guilt in his role over the shooting; he's giving the only remotely interesting performance in the pilot.
Underwood has settled on acerbic and bitter as the entirety of his characterization. It's certainly credible that having been shot and being disabled as a result might leave one bitter, but in flashbacks to before the shooting, we see that he was just as big a jerk then, too. I'm all for actors attempting to stretch and play different types, but there's also a lot to be said for knowing what you do well. Blair Underwood at his best is a tremendously charming, warm, sexy, likable man, and it's painful to watch him closing off all of his principal assets to play this nasty, hostile person. He treats his underlings like idiots, and has so little respect for their abilities that you wonder why he picked them for his squad in the first place.
Those pre-shooting flashbacks have been used by the producers as justification for hiring Underwood rather than hiring an actor who really does use a wheelchair. If they're actually going to show us something useful about the character, that might be a reasonable defense, but in the pilot, they don't tell us anything that couldn't be equally well covered in four or five lines of dialogue; they're such useless scenes that I started to feel like they'd been added fairly late in the process, after the producers realized they might take some heat for not hiring a paraplegic actor.
The case-of-the-week is serviceable, but it's nothing particularly distinctive or interesting, and the answer falls into place pretty much as you'd expect it to after the first five minutes. And "nothing particularly distinctive or interesting," unfortunately, is also a pretty good summary of the show as a whole. The time slot's not fiercely competitive, and the show could easily run for two or three years, getting just-good-enough ratings to survive without ever impressing anyone in any way.
Because Ironside is a 21st-century police procedural, we are obliged to begin with a scene in which Robert Ironside (Blair Underwood) demonstrates that using a wheelchair is no obstacle to his committing illegal interrogations and acts of police brutality. And because Ironside is a 21st-century police procedural, the principal crime in the pilot is the death of a pretty young white woman, whose corpse is seen surrounded by an ample pool of blood.
Ironside heads up his own hand-picked team of detectives as the result of a settlement following his being shot on the job two years earlier. The detectives are the obligatory Mod Squad of police sidekicks -- one pretty female (Spencer Grammer), two hunky males (Pablo Schreiber and Neal Bledsoe) -- none of whom is allowed to have any personality, because that might pull focus away from Underwood, and this, by god, is a star vehicle. There's also the obligatory grumpy "why can't you follow the rules, Ironside?" captain, played by Kenneth Choi with even less personality than the Mod Squad. The only supporting character who does have much personality is Ironside's former partner (Brent Sexton), still on extended leave and struggling with guilt in his role over the shooting; he's giving the only remotely interesting performance in the pilot.
Underwood has settled on acerbic and bitter as the entirety of his characterization. It's certainly credible that having been shot and being disabled as a result might leave one bitter, but in flashbacks to before the shooting, we see that he was just as big a jerk then, too. I'm all for actors attempting to stretch and play different types, but there's also a lot to be said for knowing what you do well. Blair Underwood at his best is a tremendously charming, warm, sexy, likable man, and it's painful to watch him closing off all of his principal assets to play this nasty, hostile person. He treats his underlings like idiots, and has so little respect for their abilities that you wonder why he picked them for his squad in the first place.
Those pre-shooting flashbacks have been used by the producers as justification for hiring Underwood rather than hiring an actor who really does use a wheelchair. If they're actually going to show us something useful about the character, that might be a reasonable defense, but in the pilot, they don't tell us anything that couldn't be equally well covered in four or five lines of dialogue; they're such useless scenes that I started to feel like they'd been added fairly late in the process, after the producers realized they might take some heat for not hiring a paraplegic actor.
The case-of-the-week is serviceable, but it's nothing particularly distinctive or interesting, and the answer falls into place pretty much as you'd expect it to after the first five minutes. And "nothing particularly distinctive or interesting," unfortunately, is also a pretty good summary of the show as a whole. The time slot's not fiercely competitive, and the show could easily run for two or three years, getting just-good-enough ratings to survive without ever impressing anyone in any way.
Labels:
TV
September 18, 2013
TV: We Are Men (Mon 8:30, CBS)
Premieres September 30; pilot currently available at cbs.com.
We Are Men is the story of Carter (Chris Smith), who is left at the altar and moves into a "short-term housing" apartment complex that is basically a waystation for lonely divorced men. Three of the building's resident lotharios take Carter under their wing to help him recover from his heartbreak. They're played by Jerry O'Connell, Kal Penn, and Tony Shalhoub; their character names and personalities aren't all that important, mostly because none of them has any discernible personality beyond being a permanent horndog. Oh, I suppose Penn is the most pathetic of the three, and Shalhoub the sleaziest, but really, they're all pretty awful (and I do not ever again need to see O'Connell in a Speedo, thank you very much).
Women exist in this show only as castrating harpies, sex objects, or (as in the case of Carter's fiancee) some combination of the two. The lone exception is Shalhoub's daughter (Rebecca Breeds), who is clearly meant to eventually be Carter's love interest because they both like basketball, which is what passes for complex character development on this show.
In what seems to be a dominant theme as the new TV season begins, some very good actors are being wasted here; I think I could enjoy O'Connell, Penn, and Shalhoub in a buddy comedy, but it would have to be funnier and cleverer than this one. Smith isn't much of a presence, which is rather a handicap for the guy at the center of the show, but he's not offensively dull, and he's blandly pretty to look at.
I don't see any reason to think this will be any more successful than Partners was in this time slot last year (and in the department of "things I never thought I'd have to say," Partners was a better show). Gone by Christmas.
We Are Men is the story of Carter (Chris Smith), who is left at the altar and moves into a "short-term housing" apartment complex that is basically a waystation for lonely divorced men. Three of the building's resident lotharios take Carter under their wing to help him recover from his heartbreak. They're played by Jerry O'Connell, Kal Penn, and Tony Shalhoub; their character names and personalities aren't all that important, mostly because none of them has any discernible personality beyond being a permanent horndog. Oh, I suppose Penn is the most pathetic of the three, and Shalhoub the sleaziest, but really, they're all pretty awful (and I do not ever again need to see O'Connell in a Speedo, thank you very much).
Women exist in this show only as castrating harpies, sex objects, or (as in the case of Carter's fiancee) some combination of the two. The lone exception is Shalhoub's daughter (Rebecca Breeds), who is clearly meant to eventually be Carter's love interest because they both like basketball, which is what passes for complex character development on this show.
In what seems to be a dominant theme as the new TV season begins, some very good actors are being wasted here; I think I could enjoy O'Connell, Penn, and Shalhoub in a buddy comedy, but it would have to be funnier and cleverer than this one. Smith isn't much of a presence, which is rather a handicap for the guy at the center of the show, but he's not offensively dull, and he's blandly pretty to look at.
I don't see any reason to think this will be any more successful than Partners was in this time slot last year (and in the department of "things I never thought I'd have to say," Partners was a better show). Gone by Christmas.
Labels:
TV
TV: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (Tue 8:30, Fox)
There are still some bugs to be worked out of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, many of them surrounding Andy Samberg in the lead role, but the show's got a fine ensemble, characters who feel far better developed than we normally get in a comedy pilot, and some unusual dynamics driving the relationship between the two leads.
Samberg stars as Jake Peralta, star detective of a Brooklyn police station. He's a goofball who's "learned everything except how to grow up," says one co-worker, and the other detectives in the station are a colorful assortment. Amy Santiago (Melissa Fumero) is Peralta's partner, a woman who takes her job a little bit too seriously. Sgt. Jeffords (Terry Crew) has been stuck on desk duty for a year since losing his edge after the birth of his daughters. Detective Boyle (Joe Lo Truglio) isn't the smartest or the strongest member of the squad, but he's the hardest working; he's got a crush on his partner, Det. Diaz (Stephanie Beatriz), a tough cop who takes no nonsense from anyone.
The cast is rounded out by the arrival of their new captain, Ray Holt (Andre Braugher, who manages to be surprisingly funny by playing everything with exactly the same solemn gravitas he has in drama), a well-respected veteran who's finally getting his first shot at command. He's determined to make the most of this opportunity and turn his detectives -- especially Jake -- into the best team in the city.
And here's where we have a potentially fascinating twist on the relationship between Peralta and Holt. You expect the show to be driven by conflict between the two, with Holt insisting that Peralta straighten up, and Peralta wanting to continue his clownish ways. But it turns out that the reason Holt's waited so long to be given command is that he's gay; Peralta actually respects his history as a cop and doesn't want to be the guy who screws things up now that Holt's gotten his shot. Rather than conflict, the driving force may be the two working together to improve the squad, in the process of which Jake finally learns how to grow up.
The supporting cast is terrific, and their characters already have a lived-in realness that even a good sitcom doesn't normally get to until far later in its run. The relationships among them are crisp and individual, and while each of the characters is clearly rooted in some archetype of ensemble comedy, they've each got some depth or personality beyond those archetypes.
Samberg is the show's weak link; he's still playing everything as though it were a Saturday Night Live sketch, and of all the actors, he's the least integrated into the cast. You could argue, perhaps, that this is an appropriate acting choice; Peralta is meant to be the company clown, and learning to fit in better is his likely character arc in the show. But he's taking that too far, I think, and is too stylistically separated from the ensemble.
But everything around him is so good that I'm willing to overlook that for a while. This is an extremely promising pilot.
Samberg stars as Jake Peralta, star detective of a Brooklyn police station. He's a goofball who's "learned everything except how to grow up," says one co-worker, and the other detectives in the station are a colorful assortment. Amy Santiago (Melissa Fumero) is Peralta's partner, a woman who takes her job a little bit too seriously. Sgt. Jeffords (Terry Crew) has been stuck on desk duty for a year since losing his edge after the birth of his daughters. Detective Boyle (Joe Lo Truglio) isn't the smartest or the strongest member of the squad, but he's the hardest working; he's got a crush on his partner, Det. Diaz (Stephanie Beatriz), a tough cop who takes no nonsense from anyone.
The cast is rounded out by the arrival of their new captain, Ray Holt (Andre Braugher, who manages to be surprisingly funny by playing everything with exactly the same solemn gravitas he has in drama), a well-respected veteran who's finally getting his first shot at command. He's determined to make the most of this opportunity and turn his detectives -- especially Jake -- into the best team in the city.
And here's where we have a potentially fascinating twist on the relationship between Peralta and Holt. You expect the show to be driven by conflict between the two, with Holt insisting that Peralta straighten up, and Peralta wanting to continue his clownish ways. But it turns out that the reason Holt's waited so long to be given command is that he's gay; Peralta actually respects his history as a cop and doesn't want to be the guy who screws things up now that Holt's gotten his shot. Rather than conflict, the driving force may be the two working together to improve the squad, in the process of which Jake finally learns how to grow up.
The supporting cast is terrific, and their characters already have a lived-in realness that even a good sitcom doesn't normally get to until far later in its run. The relationships among them are crisp and individual, and while each of the characters is clearly rooted in some archetype of ensemble comedy, they've each got some depth or personality beyond those archetypes.
Samberg is the show's weak link; he's still playing everything as though it were a Saturday Night Live sketch, and of all the actors, he's the least integrated into the cast. You could argue, perhaps, that this is an appropriate acting choice; Peralta is meant to be the company clown, and learning to fit in better is his likely character arc in the show. But he's taking that too far, I think, and is too stylistically separated from the ensemble.
But everything around him is so good that I'm willing to overlook that for a while. This is an extremely promising pilot.
Labels:
TV
TV: Dads (Tue 8, Fox)
Dads has probably gotten more pre-season buzz than any of the fall's new shows, and none of it has been good. "It's racist and sexist and horribly offensive," has been the unanimous cry from critics.
The problem with the show, though, isn't really that it's offensive (though it is). Comedy can be offensive and be very successful; South Park has been doing it for years. And even Dads creator Seth MacFarlane has pulled it off, in the best moments of Family Guy. But offensive comedy must, like all comedy, be funny, and Dads isn't.
The premise isn't awful: Two best friends who run a video game company (Seth Green and Giovanni Ribisi) have their lives disrupted when their fathers (Peter Riegert and Martin Mull) come to live with them. And those are four fine comic actors, who manage even to scrape an occasional laugh out of the flimsy material they're given here.
But oh lord, is it flimsy material; the central jokes of the first episode center around the boys asking their co-worker Veronica (Brenda Song) to put on a slutty schoolgirl outfit to amuse potential investors. Here we see that the show can't even be bothered with precision in its ethnic insults: An actress of Thai-Vietnamese descent is asked to perform a Japanese stereotype for a group of Chinese investors.
There are racist jokes (Riegert assumes that Ribisi's wife must be the maid, because she's Latina), and gay jokes, and old jokes, and "Jews are cheap" jokes, and it appears that the second episode is already resorting to the "dad eats a pot brownie" plotline, which most sitcoms don't get desperate enough to use until at least the third season.
It's one thing when a show sets the bar high and fails; you can at least respect its ambition. But Dads sets the bar as low as it can possibly be set, and still fails to reach even the minimal goals it sets for itself. It's a tragic waste of a talented cast on material that would be an embarrassment on the stage of the South Succotash Community Theater.
The problem with the show, though, isn't really that it's offensive (though it is). Comedy can be offensive and be very successful; South Park has been doing it for years. And even Dads creator Seth MacFarlane has pulled it off, in the best moments of Family Guy. But offensive comedy must, like all comedy, be funny, and Dads isn't.
The premise isn't awful: Two best friends who run a video game company (Seth Green and Giovanni Ribisi) have their lives disrupted when their fathers (Peter Riegert and Martin Mull) come to live with them. And those are four fine comic actors, who manage even to scrape an occasional laugh out of the flimsy material they're given here.
But oh lord, is it flimsy material; the central jokes of the first episode center around the boys asking their co-worker Veronica (Brenda Song) to put on a slutty schoolgirl outfit to amuse potential investors. Here we see that the show can't even be bothered with precision in its ethnic insults: An actress of Thai-Vietnamese descent is asked to perform a Japanese stereotype for a group of Chinese investors.
There are racist jokes (Riegert assumes that Ribisi's wife must be the maid, because she's Latina), and gay jokes, and old jokes, and "Jews are cheap" jokes, and it appears that the second episode is already resorting to the "dad eats a pot brownie" plotline, which most sitcoms don't get desperate enough to use until at least the third season.
It's one thing when a show sets the bar high and fails; you can at least respect its ambition. But Dads sets the bar as low as it can possibly be set, and still fails to reach even the minimal goals it sets for itself. It's a tragic waste of a talented cast on material that would be an embarrassment on the stage of the South Succotash Community Theater.
Labels:
TV
TV: Sleepy Hollow (Mon 9, Fox)
Every year, we get one or two pilots that are so loopy, so willing to leap cheerfully into full-on crazy, that I watch with amazement. Usually, such pilots are obviously doomed from the start (see, for instance, last year's Cult or Zero Hour); occasionally, such a show is miraculously able to maintain its special brand of weird for a season or two (we still miss you, Pushing Daisies). This year's "how long can they possibly keep this up" pilot is Sleepy Hollow.
We open in 1781, on a Revolutionary War battlefield where Ichabod Crane (Tom Mison) is battling a masked horseman. Crane plugs several rounds into him; he keeps coming. Crane chops his head off, and he still keeps coming, knocking Crane to the ground, apparently dead.
But wait! Not quite dead yet, it seems, because we leap forward to the present day, where Crane suddenly wakes up in an underground cave, not having aged a day. And it seems that his old foe the horseman, still headless, is running around Sleepy Hollow chopping off people's heads. Crane is inevitably arrested, and Lt. Abbie Mills (Nicole Beharie) finds herself taking his bizarre story seriously, because strange things have happened to her in Sleepy Hollow, and she knows what it is to be thought crazy.
And things only get nuttier from there, with Crane reading key passages from George Washington's own bible (note to producers: It's the book of Revelation, not Revelations), and discovering some sort of horrifying historical/supernatural conspiracy involving the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (of whom the Headless Horseman is apparently one), and Ichabod and Abbie are apparently fated to spend the next seven years working to prevent the evil from taking over the world. (Seven years, huh? Why, that just happens to be the length of an actor's standard TV series contract. If nothing else, you have to admire the optimism.)
Mison and Beharie, both new to American TV, are a terrific central pair, though I'm already scared that the show will be unable to resist making them a romantic couple. (They may be deterred by the fact that Crane is married, and that his wife occasionally visits him in visions.) The show's absolute commitment to its goofball premise is commendable, and the whole thing is strangely entertaining in a way that has you screaming "oh, come on" at the TV every five or six minutes. (Who knew, for instance, that Revolutionary War nurses displayed such ample cleavage?)
It's almost certainly going to come crashing down in spectacular style, but I'll keep watching, just to see how long the show can keep walking its unlikely tightrope.
We open in 1781, on a Revolutionary War battlefield where Ichabod Crane (Tom Mison) is battling a masked horseman. Crane plugs several rounds into him; he keeps coming. Crane chops his head off, and he still keeps coming, knocking Crane to the ground, apparently dead.
But wait! Not quite dead yet, it seems, because we leap forward to the present day, where Crane suddenly wakes up in an underground cave, not having aged a day. And it seems that his old foe the horseman, still headless, is running around Sleepy Hollow chopping off people's heads. Crane is inevitably arrested, and Lt. Abbie Mills (Nicole Beharie) finds herself taking his bizarre story seriously, because strange things have happened to her in Sleepy Hollow, and she knows what it is to be thought crazy.
And things only get nuttier from there, with Crane reading key passages from George Washington's own bible (note to producers: It's the book of Revelation, not Revelations), and discovering some sort of horrifying historical/supernatural conspiracy involving the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (of whom the Headless Horseman is apparently one), and Ichabod and Abbie are apparently fated to spend the next seven years working to prevent the evil from taking over the world. (Seven years, huh? Why, that just happens to be the length of an actor's standard TV series contract. If nothing else, you have to admire the optimism.)
Mison and Beharie, both new to American TV, are a terrific central pair, though I'm already scared that the show will be unable to resist making them a romantic couple. (They may be deterred by the fact that Crane is married, and that his wife occasionally visits him in visions.) The show's absolute commitment to its goofball premise is commendable, and the whole thing is strangely entertaining in a way that has you screaming "oh, come on" at the TV every five or six minutes. (Who knew, for instance, that Revolutionary War nurses displayed such ample cleavage?)
It's almost certainly going to come crashing down in spectacular style, but I'll keep watching, just to see how long the show can keep walking its unlikely tightrope.
Labels:
TV
September 15, 2013
TV: Back in the Game (Wed 8:30, ABC)
Premieres September 25; pilot currently available on Hulu.
Three generations of athletes in conflict are at the heart of Back in the Game, which features one very bad casting choice, and one terrific supporting performance.
Terry "The Cannon" Gannon (James Caan) is an ex-athlete who never quite found success in professional baseball. His daughter, Terry Jr. (Maggie Lawson) was an All-American college softball player. After a nasty divorce, she and her son Danny (Griffin Gluck) have been forced to move in with The Cannon.
Terry would love to keep Danny from getting as messed up by sports, and by her father's win-at-any-cost philosophy, as she feels she's been, but the kid wants to play Little League, and Terry winds up coaching a team with Danny and all of the other misfits.
The bad casting choice is Caan, who doesn't have the lightness that a sitcom requires. The nastiness and hostility he's playing might work in a cable drama about a difficult father-daughter relationship, but in a show like this, there needs to be some hint that he's a decent guy at heart; Caan's playing him as a completely unrepentant bastard.
On the plus side is Lenora Crichlow, playing Terry's new friend, the wealthy widow Lulu. Lulu doesn't always quite understand what's going on, and she certainly doesn't understand baseball ("I'll pay for all the equipment" for Terry's team, she offers. "Mats, tights, sticks with ribbons -- the whole shebang."), but her heart's in the right place, and Crichlow plays her less as stupid than as not terribly interested in most of what's going on around her.
Lawson can be very likable (as she's proven for the last several years on Psych), but she's at her best when she's got an equal to bounce off. Her relationships with her father, and with the jerk in charge of the local Little League (Ben Koldyke), are all about anger and hostility; and Lulu's not quite connected enough to reality to be the equal partner she needs. Without a likable central relationship to play, she's floundering a bit, and not getting to show off her strengths.
On the whole, the show lands just to the plus side of mediocre. It's got a comfy time slot between The Middle and Modern Family, which will probably be enough to keep it around for a full season, but I'd be surprised to see it survive to a second.
Three generations of athletes in conflict are at the heart of Back in the Game, which features one very bad casting choice, and one terrific supporting performance.
Terry "The Cannon" Gannon (James Caan) is an ex-athlete who never quite found success in professional baseball. His daughter, Terry Jr. (Maggie Lawson) was an All-American college softball player. After a nasty divorce, she and her son Danny (Griffin Gluck) have been forced to move in with The Cannon.
Terry would love to keep Danny from getting as messed up by sports, and by her father's win-at-any-cost philosophy, as she feels she's been, but the kid wants to play Little League, and Terry winds up coaching a team with Danny and all of the other misfits.
The bad casting choice is Caan, who doesn't have the lightness that a sitcom requires. The nastiness and hostility he's playing might work in a cable drama about a difficult father-daughter relationship, but in a show like this, there needs to be some hint that he's a decent guy at heart; Caan's playing him as a completely unrepentant bastard.
On the plus side is Lenora Crichlow, playing Terry's new friend, the wealthy widow Lulu. Lulu doesn't always quite understand what's going on, and she certainly doesn't understand baseball ("I'll pay for all the equipment" for Terry's team, she offers. "Mats, tights, sticks with ribbons -- the whole shebang."), but her heart's in the right place, and Crichlow plays her less as stupid than as not terribly interested in most of what's going on around her.
Lawson can be very likable (as she's proven for the last several years on Psych), but she's at her best when she's got an equal to bounce off. Her relationships with her father, and with the jerk in charge of the local Little League (Ben Koldyke), are all about anger and hostility; and Lulu's not quite connected enough to reality to be the equal partner she needs. Without a likable central relationship to play, she's floundering a bit, and not getting to show off her strengths.
On the whole, the show lands just to the plus side of mediocre. It's got a comfy time slot between The Middle and Modern Family, which will probably be enough to keep it around for a full season, but I'd be surprised to see it survive to a second.
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TV
TV: The Goldbergs (Tue 9, ABC)
Premieres September 24; pilot currently available at Hulu.
Twenty-five years ago, ABC gave us The Wonder Years, a heart-warming look back at one family in the 1960s. It's an all-time classic. The Goldbergs takes a similar scenario -- same sized family, this time in the 1980s -- and sucks all of the charm and warmth out of it, leaving nothing but a family of angry louts who spend most of the show screaming at one another.
At the center of the show is 11-year-old Adam (Sean Giambrone; voiced as an adult in voice-over "when I was a kid" narration by Patton Oswalt). There's an older sister, Erica (Hayley Orrantia), and an older brother, Barry (Troy Gentile), and perpetually bickering parents Beverly and Murray (Wendy McClendon-Covey and Jeff Garlin). Throw in George Segal as grandpa Albert, who seems to be just beginning his long decline into senility, and you've got perhaps the most unappealing TV family of the last decade. (And, may I remind you, I sat through more than one episode of I Hate My Teenage Daughter.)
Garlin's Murray is so loud and horrible that it is a running gag to subtitle his harshest rants at his children with subtitles telling us what he's "really" saying; "You're not a complete moron every minute of the day" becomes "I love you." Beverly's not much better; she's an emotionally manipulative harpy who seems determined to drain every last shred of happiness from her family's lives. At least in her case, I believe that the character choices are coming from McClendon-Covey; the bellowing and stomping about that Garlin is doing are, I fear, all that he's capable of.
This is an awful show on every level. It's poorly written, poorly directed, and poorly conceived. It deserves to be among the season's early cancellations.
Twenty-five years ago, ABC gave us The Wonder Years, a heart-warming look back at one family in the 1960s. It's an all-time classic. The Goldbergs takes a similar scenario -- same sized family, this time in the 1980s -- and sucks all of the charm and warmth out of it, leaving nothing but a family of angry louts who spend most of the show screaming at one another.
At the center of the show is 11-year-old Adam (Sean Giambrone; voiced as an adult in voice-over "when I was a kid" narration by Patton Oswalt). There's an older sister, Erica (Hayley Orrantia), and an older brother, Barry (Troy Gentile), and perpetually bickering parents Beverly and Murray (Wendy McClendon-Covey and Jeff Garlin). Throw in George Segal as grandpa Albert, who seems to be just beginning his long decline into senility, and you've got perhaps the most unappealing TV family of the last decade. (And, may I remind you, I sat through more than one episode of I Hate My Teenage Daughter.)
Garlin's Murray is so loud and horrible that it is a running gag to subtitle his harshest rants at his children with subtitles telling us what he's "really" saying; "You're not a complete moron every minute of the day" becomes "I love you." Beverly's not much better; she's an emotionally manipulative harpy who seems determined to drain every last shred of happiness from her family's lives. At least in her case, I believe that the character choices are coming from McClendon-Covey; the bellowing and stomping about that Garlin is doing are, I fear, all that he's capable of.
This is an awful show on every level. It's poorly written, poorly directed, and poorly conceived. It deserves to be among the season's early cancellations.
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TV
September 14, 2013
TV: Welcome to the Family (Thu 8:30, NBC)
Premieres October 3; pilot currently available at Hulu.
Fine cast, and a workable premise, all let down by mediocre writing.
It's high school graduation day in Los Angeles. At one school, Molly Yoder (Ella Rae Peck) is graduating, to the delight and mild surprise of parents Dan and Caroline (Mike O'Malley and Mary McCormack). Across town, Junior Hernandez (Joseph Haro) is his school's valedictorian, and his parents Miguel and Lisette (Ricardo A. Chavira and Justina Machado) are thrilled that he's off to Stanford. Neither family knows that their kids have been dating, and it's not until the middle of his valedictory address that Molly texts Junior to tell him that she's pregnant. So, we've got a culture clash between two families, the setup for what could be a smart comedy about class and race in a very multicultural city.
But the writing falls short, content to tell jokes about Molly's stupidity -- grumbling about restrictive gender roles, she whines that society is too "patriotic" (and the joke's repeated later on with the word "parochial") -- and the macho rivalry between Dan and Miguel. This being television, the mothers are limited to being the reasonable ones who want to make peace between their families. And there's a horribly ill-advised plot twist in the last thirty seconds of the episode that does not bode well for the show.
The four actors playing the parents are all familiar faces, and they're all more than capable of handling better material than they've been given here. In the younger roles, Haro comes off better than Peck, who is working the ditz thing just a little too hard.
I like these actors enough -- O'Malley and Chavira in particular are working ridiculously hard and doing as much as humanly possible with what they're given -- that I might check back in a few weeks to see if the writing's gotten any better, but this is not an encouraging start.
Fine cast, and a workable premise, all let down by mediocre writing.
It's high school graduation day in Los Angeles. At one school, Molly Yoder (Ella Rae Peck) is graduating, to the delight and mild surprise of parents Dan and Caroline (Mike O'Malley and Mary McCormack). Across town, Junior Hernandez (Joseph Haro) is his school's valedictorian, and his parents Miguel and Lisette (Ricardo A. Chavira and Justina Machado) are thrilled that he's off to Stanford. Neither family knows that their kids have been dating, and it's not until the middle of his valedictory address that Molly texts Junior to tell him that she's pregnant. So, we've got a culture clash between two families, the setup for what could be a smart comedy about class and race in a very multicultural city.
But the writing falls short, content to tell jokes about Molly's stupidity -- grumbling about restrictive gender roles, she whines that society is too "patriotic" (and the joke's repeated later on with the word "parochial") -- and the macho rivalry between Dan and Miguel. This being television, the mothers are limited to being the reasonable ones who want to make peace between their families. And there's a horribly ill-advised plot twist in the last thirty seconds of the episode that does not bode well for the show.
The four actors playing the parents are all familiar faces, and they're all more than capable of handling better material than they've been given here. In the younger roles, Haro comes off better than Peck, who is working the ditz thing just a little too hard.
I like these actors enough -- O'Malley and Chavira in particular are working ridiculously hard and doing as much as humanly possible with what they're given -- that I might check back in a few weeks to see if the writing's gotten any better, but this is not an encouraging start.
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TV
TV: Trophy Wife (Tue 9:30, ABC)
Premieres on Sep 24; pilot currently available at Hulu.
Let the fall festival o'reviews begin!
A year ago, Kate (Malin Akerman) was a single girl who loved to party. But then she fell into the lap (literally) of Pete (Bradley Whitford), and now she's married and part of Pete's extended family. There's ex-wife #1, Diane (Marcia Gay Harden), a hyper-competent surgeon with whom Pete has 15-year-old twins, and ex-wife #2, Jackie (Michaela Watkins), a slightly ditzy New Ager with whom Pete has an adopted 7-year-old son from China. Marriage and stepmotherhood are a big change for Kate, who's trying to learn overnight all of the things that take parents years to master.
The cast here is very strong. Akerman's been on the verge of stardom for a few years now, and this could be the show that finally gets her there. She's good at physical comedy (there's some effective drunk shtick in the pilot), and has an easy, comfortable relationship with Whitford. Harden's doing a nice comic spin on her usual ball-buster roles, and I already sense that the writers are going to be careful not to make her just an overbearing ogre, but to give her some softer edges as well. Watkins' character is the least well developed and the most cliched in the pilot, but it's hard for a comedy pilot to round out all of its characters too much while establishing the premise.
The kids, for instance, are pretty standard issue sitcom kids at this point. Warren (Ryan Lee, who looks more like a goofy teenager than most TV kids, which is refreshing) has a massive crush on his sister's best friend; Hilary (Bailee Madison) is the rebel who's bored by Kate's attempts to connect; Bert (Albert Tsai) isn't asked to do much more than be adorably precocious, but he does that well, and is less cloying than one fears from such a character.
Scheduling seems a bit odd to me. ABC's burying the show on a night with an entirely new lineup, and it airs opposite NCIS: Los Angeles, The Voice, Supernatural, and The Mindy Project. It's a show that would have been a very good fit, I think, with Modern Family on Wednesday night; if Super Fun Night bombs quickly, as the early buzz suggests it may, I wouldn't be surprised to see Trophy Wife moved there.
Promising pilot, and certainly one I'll keep watching for a few weeks to see what develops.
Let the fall festival o'reviews begin!
A year ago, Kate (Malin Akerman) was a single girl who loved to party. But then she fell into the lap (literally) of Pete (Bradley Whitford), and now she's married and part of Pete's extended family. There's ex-wife #1, Diane (Marcia Gay Harden), a hyper-competent surgeon with whom Pete has 15-year-old twins, and ex-wife #2, Jackie (Michaela Watkins), a slightly ditzy New Ager with whom Pete has an adopted 7-year-old son from China. Marriage and stepmotherhood are a big change for Kate, who's trying to learn overnight all of the things that take parents years to master.
The cast here is very strong. Akerman's been on the verge of stardom for a few years now, and this could be the show that finally gets her there. She's good at physical comedy (there's some effective drunk shtick in the pilot), and has an easy, comfortable relationship with Whitford. Harden's doing a nice comic spin on her usual ball-buster roles, and I already sense that the writers are going to be careful not to make her just an overbearing ogre, but to give her some softer edges as well. Watkins' character is the least well developed and the most cliched in the pilot, but it's hard for a comedy pilot to round out all of its characters too much while establishing the premise.
The kids, for instance, are pretty standard issue sitcom kids at this point. Warren (Ryan Lee, who looks more like a goofy teenager than most TV kids, which is refreshing) has a massive crush on his sister's best friend; Hilary (Bailee Madison) is the rebel who's bored by Kate's attempts to connect; Bert (Albert Tsai) isn't asked to do much more than be adorably precocious, but he does that well, and is less cloying than one fears from such a character.
Scheduling seems a bit odd to me. ABC's burying the show on a night with an entirely new lineup, and it airs opposite NCIS: Los Angeles, The Voice, Supernatural, and The Mindy Project. It's a show that would have been a very good fit, I think, with Modern Family on Wednesday night; if Super Fun Night bombs quickly, as the early buzz suggests it may, I wouldn't be surprised to see Trophy Wife moved there.
Promising pilot, and certainly one I'll keep watching for a few weeks to see what develops.
Labels:
TV
September 06, 2013
BOOKS: The 5th Wave, Rick Yancey (2013)
More than just another in the current flood of dystopian YA novels with tough teenage heroines.This one's got a smart story, interesting characters, strong moral dilemmas, and exciting action that should appeal to adult readers as well as teens.
The alien invasion began with an electromagnetic pulse that wiped out all of our machines. A series of increasingly severe attacks have left only about three percent of humanity alive, and they tend to be isolated, since any one of them could be an alien in disguise.
One of those survivors is Cassie. She's 16, and her goal is to re-unite with her little brother, Sammy, who has been taken (along with the other small children) to a government camp for protection. When she's injured, she's nursed back to health by a stranger, a young man named Evan. She can't be entirely sure that Evan is trustworthy, but she's left with no choice but to team up with him to find her brother.
Most of the book is told from Cassie's point of view, but we get the occasional chapter from someone else -- Sammy; Cassie's old high-school crush, who's being trained as a soldier to fight the invaders; one of those alien invaders in human form -- and each of those characters is crisply and distinctly defined.
As the book's mysteries are slowly resolved -- What do the aliens want? What's really happening to Sammy? What's Evan hiding? -- each answer ratchets the tension up another notch, until the final action sequence brings the book to a rousing climax.
There's certainly room for sequels in Yancey's universe, but The 5th Wave is entirely satisfying on its own, and it's a fine SF thriller.
The alien invasion began with an electromagnetic pulse that wiped out all of our machines. A series of increasingly severe attacks have left only about three percent of humanity alive, and they tend to be isolated, since any one of them could be an alien in disguise.
One of those survivors is Cassie. She's 16, and her goal is to re-unite with her little brother, Sammy, who has been taken (along with the other small children) to a government camp for protection. When she's injured, she's nursed back to health by a stranger, a young man named Evan. She can't be entirely sure that Evan is trustworthy, but she's left with no choice but to team up with him to find her brother.
Most of the book is told from Cassie's point of view, but we get the occasional chapter from someone else -- Sammy; Cassie's old high-school crush, who's being trained as a soldier to fight the invaders; one of those alien invaders in human form -- and each of those characters is crisply and distinctly defined.
As the book's mysteries are slowly resolved -- What do the aliens want? What's really happening to Sammy? What's Evan hiding? -- each answer ratchets the tension up another notch, until the final action sequence brings the book to a rousing climax.
There's certainly room for sequels in Yancey's universe, but The 5th Wave is entirely satisfying on its own, and it's a fine SF thriller.
Labels:
Books
September 05, 2013
MOVIES: Drinking Buddies (Joe Swanberg, 2013)
Over the last decade, Swanberg has made about a dozen micro-budget movies, generally working with unknown actors (some of whom, most notably Greta Gerwig, have gone on to bigger things). This is his first film with a cast of recognizable actors, and it's the first of his films that I've seen. I'm left a bit baffled as to what all the fuss is about.
Jake Johnson and Olivia Wilde are Luke and Kate, co-workers at a micro-brewery who've been attracted to one another for years but have never done anything about it. Jake lives with his girlfriend, Jill (Anna Kendrick), and their relationship is at the point where they have a discussion every few months in which they reassure one another that they do want to get married some day, but they never quite get around to making concrete plans. Kate's dating Chris (Ron Livingston), who doesn't quite fit in with her circle of friends.
They're all likable enough characters, despite their annoying-hipster tendencies, but none of them held my attention, and as Swanberg follows them through a series of social encounters -- a cocktail party at the brewery, a weekend at Chris's lakeside cabin, a weekend in which Luke helps Kate move -- I kept thinking, "OK, surely now is the moment when something interesting is actually going to happen," and it never actually did. The most significant event, a breakup of one of the couples, happens off screen, and we only get one tiny scene dealing with the fallout.
Maybe it's a generational thing. Perhaps if I were a 30-ish guy, clinging desperately to youth and cool-ness, I would find the minor problems of these four more interesting. But as it is, the movie felt like 90 minutes of aimless noodling about people who don't have the self-awareness or the initiative to do any of the things that might actually make them happy.
Jake Johnson and Olivia Wilde are Luke and Kate, co-workers at a micro-brewery who've been attracted to one another for years but have never done anything about it. Jake lives with his girlfriend, Jill (Anna Kendrick), and their relationship is at the point where they have a discussion every few months in which they reassure one another that they do want to get married some day, but they never quite get around to making concrete plans. Kate's dating Chris (Ron Livingston), who doesn't quite fit in with her circle of friends.
They're all likable enough characters, despite their annoying-hipster tendencies, but none of them held my attention, and as Swanberg follows them through a series of social encounters -- a cocktail party at the brewery, a weekend at Chris's lakeside cabin, a weekend in which Luke helps Kate move -- I kept thinking, "OK, surely now is the moment when something interesting is actually going to happen," and it never actually did. The most significant event, a breakup of one of the couples, happens off screen, and we only get one tiny scene dealing with the fallout.
Maybe it's a generational thing. Perhaps if I were a 30-ish guy, clinging desperately to youth and cool-ness, I would find the minor problems of these four more interesting. But as it is, the movie felt like 90 minutes of aimless noodling about people who don't have the self-awareness or the initiative to do any of the things that might actually make them happy.
Labels:
Movies
September 04, 2013
MUSIC: 2013-14 LA Philharmonic schedule
So, got my season tickets, did some exchanges, and this is the lineup of 12 concerts for which I have tickets:
Gustavo Dudamel, conductor; Yefim Bronfman, piano; Pedro Carneiro, percussion
A good season, I think. A lot of Brahms -- they seem to be really keeping it in their repertoire after the Brahms festival a couple of years back -- and I think I'm going to be tired of Ravel after those last few concerts, but a lot of new music, and plenty of concertos outside the piano/violin/cello hierarchy -- percussion, organ, trumpet (Tovey's piece is a trumpet concerto). Composers I don't know enough about (Riley, Nielsen, Bruckner); pieces I will be happy to hear again (Bartok, Britten, Corigliano).
I'll miss at least three of these, of course, as things get in the way and life pops up, but I'm the sort of neurotic who is happy to have the tickets in hand well ahead of time.
Gustavo Dudamel, conductor; Yefim Bronfman, piano; Pedro Carneiro, percussion
- Schubert: Symphony #4
- Lieberson (realized by Knussen): Shing Kham (world premiere -- Lieberson died before quite finishing this percussion concerto; Knussen did the final work to put the piece into a performable condition)
- Tchaikovsky: Piano Concerto #1
- Debussy: Nocturnes
- Lindberg: new work for cello and orchestra (world premiere)
- Bartok: Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta
- Britten: The Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra
- Tovey: Songs of the Paradise Saloon
- Shostakovich: Symphony #5
- Bruckner: Symphony #8
- Bjarnason: new work (world premiere)
- Rachmaninoff: Piano Concerto #3
- Stravinsky: Petrushka
- Kilar: Krzesany
- Chopin: Piano Concerto #2
- Prokofiev: Symphony #5
- Hillborg: King Tide (US premiere)
- Nielsen: Violin Concerto
- Sibelius: Symphony #2
- Corigliano: Symphony #1
- Brahms: Symphony #2
- Beethoven: Piano Concerto #5 ("Emperor")
- Ravel: Daphnis and Chloe
- Gordon: Sunshine of Your Love (US premiere)
- Riley: Organ Concerto (world premiere)
- Adams: Naive and Sentimental Music
- Brahms: Academic Festival Overture
- Norman: new work for piano and orchestra (world premiere)
- Brahms: Piano Concerto #2
- Ravel: Valses nobles et sentimentales
- Prokofiev: Piano Concerto #3
- Desenne: Sinfonia Burocratica ed' Amazzonica
- Ravel: La valse
A good season, I think. A lot of Brahms -- they seem to be really keeping it in their repertoire after the Brahms festival a couple of years back -- and I think I'm going to be tired of Ravel after those last few concerts, but a lot of new music, and plenty of concertos outside the piano/violin/cello hierarchy -- percussion, organ, trumpet (Tovey's piece is a trumpet concerto). Composers I don't know enough about (Riley, Nielsen, Bruckner); pieces I will be happy to hear again (Bartok, Britten, Corigliano).
I'll miss at least three of these, of course, as things get in the way and life pops up, but I'm the sort of neurotic who is happy to have the tickets in hand well ahead of time.
Labels:
Music
BOOKS: But He Doesn't Know the Territory, Meredith Willson (1959)
Willson's memoir of creating The Music Man, from first inspiration to Broadway opening night. By the standards of today's tell-alls, this is tepid stuff; there are no scandalous revelations and no villains to be found. But Willson's writing is filled with the same gentle charm and humor that he brought to The Music Man itself, and it's a sweet little book.
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Books
MOVIES: Short Term 12 (Destin Daniel Cretton, 2013)
You hear the premise for this movie, and you might understandably fear some sort of dreary exercise in sentimental manipulation: Two young 20-somethings, each carrying a significant load of emotional baggage, struggle to make their relationship work while working at a group home for teens who are waiting to be placed in a foster home. But writer/director Destin Daniel Cretton makes his characters so vivid and specific, and finds enough humor in their lives, to raise the movie far above the Afterschool Special level. It's one of the best movies of the year.
Much of the credit goes to Brie Larson, who stars as Grace, the staff supervisor at the group home. She's good with the kids, and has a genuine gift for being supportive without coming across as smug or condescending. She's less good at asking for help than she is at giving it, though; in the delightful and useful phrase of TV critic Daniel Feinberg, this is a Vocational Irony Narrative.
That tendency to close herself off causes difficulty for her boyfriend Mason (John Gallagher Jr.), who is a character we see far too rarely in movies; he's a genuinely decent guy without being an idiot or a wimp. He accepts her reluctance to share certain things, but isn't willing to let himself be shut out entirely.
Grace and Mason both have personal reasons for going into this line of work, and those revelations felt a bit too pat and obvious. I think it more likely, in fact, that someone with Grace's background would have chosen any career but this one. Cretton's screenplay allows those revelations to play out in reasonbly convincing fashion, though, and they are dramatically effective.
There are fine performances from the actors playing the home's resident kids, too. Making particularly strong impressions are Kaitlyn Dever as Jaden, the newest resident, whose personal struggles hit very close to home for Grace; and Keith Stanfield as Marcus, who is about to turn 18 and has very mixed feelings about leaving the foster care system.
The writing and acting create characters and a background that feel utterly real; the emotion is sincerely and honestly earned. The fact that the actors are relatively unknown -- Larson, Gallagher, and Dever are best known for TV or theater work; and this is Stanfield's first feature film -- helps, I think, to create that reality, because we're not being distracted by familiar faces and big-name stars. This is a very special movie, and I can't recommend it highly enough.
Much of the credit goes to Brie Larson, who stars as Grace, the staff supervisor at the group home. She's good with the kids, and has a genuine gift for being supportive without coming across as smug or condescending. She's less good at asking for help than she is at giving it, though; in the delightful and useful phrase of TV critic Daniel Feinberg, this is a Vocational Irony Narrative.
That tendency to close herself off causes difficulty for her boyfriend Mason (John Gallagher Jr.), who is a character we see far too rarely in movies; he's a genuinely decent guy without being an idiot or a wimp. He accepts her reluctance to share certain things, but isn't willing to let himself be shut out entirely.
Grace and Mason both have personal reasons for going into this line of work, and those revelations felt a bit too pat and obvious. I think it more likely, in fact, that someone with Grace's background would have chosen any career but this one. Cretton's screenplay allows those revelations to play out in reasonbly convincing fashion, though, and they are dramatically effective.
There are fine performances from the actors playing the home's resident kids, too. Making particularly strong impressions are Kaitlyn Dever as Jaden, the newest resident, whose personal struggles hit very close to home for Grace; and Keith Stanfield as Marcus, who is about to turn 18 and has very mixed feelings about leaving the foster care system.
The writing and acting create characters and a background that feel utterly real; the emotion is sincerely and honestly earned. The fact that the actors are relatively unknown -- Larson, Gallagher, and Dever are best known for TV or theater work; and this is Stanfield's first feature film -- helps, I think, to create that reality, because we're not being distracted by familiar faces and big-name stars. This is a very special movie, and I can't recommend it highly enough.
Labels:
Movies
September 03, 2013
BOOKS: The Human Division, John Scalzi (2013)
First, congratulations to Scalzi for winning this year's Hugo Award for his novel Redshirts, which I thought was absolutely terrific.
The Human Division returns Scalzi to the universe of his Old Men's War and its sequels, and it's an interesting experiment in story structure. The residents of Earth and of its many colony planets make up the Colonial Union, a political and military organization which protects humanity from the universe's many hostile alien races. But Earth is beginning to realize that the vast majority of the Union's resources, money, and soldiers are coming from Earth, and Earth's politicans have begun to resent that they are being asked to defend everyone else. So when Earth is invited to join The Conclave, a powerful alliance of alien cultures and planets, the diplomats and soldiers of the Colonial Union find themselves struggling to keep Earth in the fold, because without Earth, the Union will collapse.
Against that background, Scalzi tells his story in thirteen "episodes," which were originally released as separate e-publications, and each of which is designed to stand on its own as a short story while coming together to tell a complete story. So rather than a strong plot or narrative throughline, the book plays out as a series of vignettes set against the backdrop of the Union's fight to hang onto Earth. There are recurring characters, a second-tier diplomatic crew whose missions always seem to play into the larger story in unexpected ways, but about half of the episodes feature their own characters who don't reappear elsewhere.
Styles and tones vary widely, from "The B Team," a classic bit of space opera in which our diplomatic crew has a dangerous alien contact problem to resolve; to "A Voice in the Wilderness," a look at a Limbaugh-style rabble-rouser for whom ratings are the most important goal, which reminded me somehow of Shirley Jackson.
For those readers who've already purchased the individual stories in e-format, Scalzi includes a pair of bonus stories set in roughly the same period of his future history. "Hafte Sorvalh Eats a Churro and Speaks to the Youth of Today" is a sweet little charmer of a story that brings the book to a delightful end.
I'm not convinced that the stories work together to tell a single novel-length story. The reader is left to assemble that larger story for himself by putting together the background details of each individual piece, and by filling in the gaps between stories. And even after doing that assembling, the story never quite reaches resolution; there's at least one more novel's worth of story waiting to unfold. But I appreciate Scalzi's continuing willingness to experiment with how stories can be told (Redshirts ended with three short-story "codas"), and the individual stories are all delightfully entertaining. Even if The Human Division is less a novel than a story collection, I'm certainly happy to have read it.
The Human Division returns Scalzi to the universe of his Old Men's War and its sequels, and it's an interesting experiment in story structure. The residents of Earth and of its many colony planets make up the Colonial Union, a political and military organization which protects humanity from the universe's many hostile alien races. But Earth is beginning to realize that the vast majority of the Union's resources, money, and soldiers are coming from Earth, and Earth's politicans have begun to resent that they are being asked to defend everyone else. So when Earth is invited to join The Conclave, a powerful alliance of alien cultures and planets, the diplomats and soldiers of the Colonial Union find themselves struggling to keep Earth in the fold, because without Earth, the Union will collapse.
Against that background, Scalzi tells his story in thirteen "episodes," which were originally released as separate e-publications, and each of which is designed to stand on its own as a short story while coming together to tell a complete story. So rather than a strong plot or narrative throughline, the book plays out as a series of vignettes set against the backdrop of the Union's fight to hang onto Earth. There are recurring characters, a second-tier diplomatic crew whose missions always seem to play into the larger story in unexpected ways, but about half of the episodes feature their own characters who don't reappear elsewhere.
Styles and tones vary widely, from "The B Team," a classic bit of space opera in which our diplomatic crew has a dangerous alien contact problem to resolve; to "A Voice in the Wilderness," a look at a Limbaugh-style rabble-rouser for whom ratings are the most important goal, which reminded me somehow of Shirley Jackson.
For those readers who've already purchased the individual stories in e-format, Scalzi includes a pair of bonus stories set in roughly the same period of his future history. "Hafte Sorvalh Eats a Churro and Speaks to the Youth of Today" is a sweet little charmer of a story that brings the book to a delightful end.
I'm not convinced that the stories work together to tell a single novel-length story. The reader is left to assemble that larger story for himself by putting together the background details of each individual piece, and by filling in the gaps between stories. And even after doing that assembling, the story never quite reaches resolution; there's at least one more novel's worth of story waiting to unfold. But I appreciate Scalzi's continuing willingness to experiment with how stories can be told (Redshirts ended with three short-story "codas"), and the individual stories are all delightfully entertaining. Even if The Human Division is less a novel than a story collection, I'm certainly happy to have read it.
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Books
MOVIES: Now You See Me (Louis Leterrier, 2013)
Four second-tier magicians (appropriately enough, played by four second-tier movie stars: Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Isla Fisher, and Dave Franco) are brought together to form "the Four Horsemen," a Vegas-caliber team who take to ending their shows with enormous thefts of money that they give away to their audience, Robin Hood style. Mark Ruffalo's the FBI agent on the case, Melanie Laurent's his Interpol partner, Michael Caine's the wealthy impresario who backs the Horsemen, and Morgan Freeman's the Amazing Randi-esque debunker.
The problem is that with today's digital trickery and effects, it's nearly impossible to make a good movie about magic; when you can do anything imaginable with movie magic, the audience has no reason to believe that it's seeing real magic, or to be impressed by what it sees.
You can get around that if magic is just the backdrop for a good story about magicians, if character outweighs flashy tricks, but that's not the case here. The characters are standard action-movie thin, and while the movie's moderately entertaining in the moment, it's entirely disposable, and the plot twists that seem clever as they're happening fall apart the second you have time to think about them.
The problem is that with today's digital trickery and effects, it's nearly impossible to make a good movie about magic; when you can do anything imaginable with movie magic, the audience has no reason to believe that it's seeing real magic, or to be impressed by what it sees.
You can get around that if magic is just the backdrop for a good story about magicians, if character outweighs flashy tricks, but that's not the case here. The characters are standard action-movie thin, and while the movie's moderately entertaining in the moment, it's entirely disposable, and the plot twists that seem clever as they're happening fall apart the second you have time to think about them.
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Movies
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