An Australian Superman sketch about Rupert Murdoch buying the Daily Planet:
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Is Denny Crane Sluttier than Captain Kirk
One television show I like and can't explain why is "Boston
Legal." In some ways it is as though two shows are occupying
the same space. One show is a rather brilliant legal comedy
starring two marvelous about Denny Crane and Alan Shore. The
other is a rather mediocre feel good legal melodrama starring
everyone else in the cast, except when they are needed to play
second banana to Bill Shatner and Alan Shore.
To begin with, the show was started as a spin-off of "The
Practice." On that show, James Spader and William Shatner shared
screen time, but their interaction was different. Denny Crane
was a wonderful lawyer. Alan Shore was a schemer. The actors
both won Emmys, and then suddenly the show was about their man
love on "Boston Legal." They problem is that both Denny Crane
and Alan Shore are, essentially, loonies. Well, loonies need
straightmen. Hence the rest of the cast.
They had Lake Bell, Rhona Mitra, Monica Potter, Rene
Auberjenois, and Mark Valley. Currently they have Candice
Bergen, Christian Clemenson, Saffron Burrows, John Larroquette,
Tara Summers and Gary Anthony Williams. In between, they've
had Betty White, Julie Bowen, Craig Berko, Contance Zimmer and
various others. These actors are not hacks. They are
substantial talents. And the show has burned through them like
Shaggy and Scooby eating in a 7-Eleven. They are there to
backup to Shatner and Spader.
Of course you cannot just hire Betty White, Henry Gibson and
Craig Bierko and do nothing with them. So they do all kinds of
typical tv story lines like love triangles, a professional
issues and occasionally even standard issue court room drama.
It's all padding. The real stories are Alan and Denny doing
their various wacky hijinks and occasional forays into
complicated legal issues.
Tuesday, for instance, they took on abortion and father's
rights. They took on Katrina lat year. They are constantly
haranguing the war in Iraq. It's pretty impressive how topical
they get. Another issue is the guest stars they have from
Michael J. Fox to Tom Selleck to Al Sharpton. I think they get
the actors because David Kelly seems to be running an Emmy
Nomination machine, but never the less, they are on the show.
Also, they seem to have a a lot of ex-Star Trek guys on the
show. But that's just an odd quirk.
Legal." In some ways it is as though two shows are occupying
the same space. One show is a rather brilliant legal comedy
starring two marvelous about Denny Crane and Alan Shore. The
other is a rather mediocre feel good legal melodrama starring
everyone else in the cast, except when they are needed to play
second banana to Bill Shatner and Alan Shore.
To begin with, the show was started as a spin-off of "The
Practice." On that show, James Spader and William Shatner shared
screen time, but their interaction was different. Denny Crane
was a wonderful lawyer. Alan Shore was a schemer. The actors
both won Emmys, and then suddenly the show was about their man
love on "Boston Legal." They problem is that both Denny Crane
and Alan Shore are, essentially, loonies. Well, loonies need
straightmen. Hence the rest of the cast.
They had Lake Bell, Rhona Mitra, Monica Potter, Rene
Auberjenois, and Mark Valley. Currently they have Candice
Bergen, Christian Clemenson, Saffron Burrows, John Larroquette,
Tara Summers and Gary Anthony Williams. In between, they've
had Betty White, Julie Bowen, Craig Berko, Contance Zimmer and
various others. These actors are not hacks. They are
substantial talents. And the show has burned through them like
Shaggy and Scooby eating in a 7-Eleven. They are there to
backup to Shatner and Spader.
Of course you cannot just hire Betty White, Henry Gibson and
Craig Bierko and do nothing with them. So they do all kinds of
typical tv story lines like love triangles, a professional
issues and occasionally even standard issue court room drama.
It's all padding. The real stories are Alan and Denny doing
their various wacky hijinks and occasional forays into
complicated legal issues.
Tuesday, for instance, they took on abortion and father's
rights. They took on Katrina lat year. They are constantly
haranguing the war in Iraq. It's pretty impressive how topical
they get. Another issue is the guest stars they have from
Michael J. Fox to Tom Selleck to Al Sharpton. I think they get
the actors because David Kelly seems to be running an Emmy
Nomination machine, but never the less, they are on the show.
Also, they seem to have a a lot of ex-Star Trek guys on the
show. But that's just an odd quirk.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Remington Steele Has Horrible Taste in Movies
This past, autumn with nothing to occupy the devil's playground,
I decide to compare how many movies I had seen with those of TV
detective Remington Steele. For those who don't remember the
show, Steele would solve cases by drawing analogies to classic
motion pictures. I'm batting around .900, one I hadn't seen was
"Little Murders."
"Little Murders" starred Elliot Gould and was directed by Alan
Arkin. It was written and based on a play by legendary comics
creator and screenwriter Jules Feiffer. So, I thought, "Okay, I have Netflix." So I got hold of "Little Murders," and let me tell you, I have seldom seen a movie which
suffered so much from being a play brought to the screen. The
interesting part of the DVD, however, is the commentary track
with Feiffer and Gould giving their separate recollections.
The movie itself, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a romantic
dark comedy which inserts the random urban violence of the
late-1960's New York City into the happy Broadway plays of the
mid-1950's. A young couple meets, and falls n love, and tragedy
befalls them just as the happy ending seems about to kick in.
I have to say that as a comics fan, it is somewhat odd to see
Jules Feiffer completely ignore his comics career. He was
entirely focused on "Little Murders" and how it got made, and
how it was a a play, and what he did on it. Elliot Gould does
mention Feiffer's cartoon career briefly, but apart from that,
if you didn't know Feiffer had been a cartoonist, you'd never
know from the commentary track.
But I do know about Feiffer's cartoon career, and "Little
Murders" shows a lot of Eisner influence, but it's a darker New
York. Feiffer claims it was a response to the Broadway plays of
the 1950' and 1960's, and I can sort of see it, I suppose. But
the left turn into absurdist violence for the final quarter of
the movie is a touch surreal for a movie.
In a play, you can get away with more wackiness than in a movie.
When the characters in "You Can't Take It With You" act like
loonies, you can sort of buy it on stage, just because the
actors are actually there, in the room, with the audience,doing
this stuff. In the movie, well, we buy it because we saw the
play or we know it was a play, and we see Jimmy Stewart and
Jean Arthur and Lionel Barrymore, and Frank Capra directed, and
these people are just good at making movies, and if they tell
us to believe something, by Jeffrey, we believe it. Or maybe,
those people just knew where the line was and not to cross it.
"Little Murders," as a movie, has a surreal bent that would
work better on stage. Feiffer says in the commentary that he
did not think it would be possible for him to adapt it, but he
did after reading the first treatment. Perhaps he was right. I
am reminded of the tag line for Stanley Kubrick's "Lolita:"
"How did they ever make a movie of _Lolita?_" Answer from
audiences: They didn't.
I decide to compare how many movies I had seen with those of TV
detective Remington Steele. For those who don't remember the
show, Steele would solve cases by drawing analogies to classic
motion pictures. I'm batting around .900, one I hadn't seen was
"Little Murders."
"Little Murders" starred Elliot Gould and was directed by Alan
Arkin. It was written and based on a play by legendary comics
creator and screenwriter Jules Feiffer. So, I thought, "Okay, I have Netflix." So I got hold of "Little Murders," and let me tell you, I have seldom seen a movie which
suffered so much from being a play brought to the screen. The
interesting part of the DVD, however, is the commentary track
with Feiffer and Gould giving their separate recollections.
The movie itself, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a romantic
dark comedy which inserts the random urban violence of the
late-1960's New York City into the happy Broadway plays of the
mid-1950's. A young couple meets, and falls n love, and tragedy
befalls them just as the happy ending seems about to kick in.
I have to say that as a comics fan, it is somewhat odd to see
Jules Feiffer completely ignore his comics career. He was
entirely focused on "Little Murders" and how it got made, and
how it was a a play, and what he did on it. Elliot Gould does
mention Feiffer's cartoon career briefly, but apart from that,
if you didn't know Feiffer had been a cartoonist, you'd never
know from the commentary track.
But I do know about Feiffer's cartoon career, and "Little
Murders" shows a lot of Eisner influence, but it's a darker New
York. Feiffer claims it was a response to the Broadway plays of
the 1950' and 1960's, and I can sort of see it, I suppose. But
the left turn into absurdist violence for the final quarter of
the movie is a touch surreal for a movie.
In a play, you can get away with more wackiness than in a movie.
When the characters in "You Can't Take It With You" act like
loonies, you can sort of buy it on stage, just because the
actors are actually there, in the room, with the audience,doing
this stuff. In the movie, well, we buy it because we saw the
play or we know it was a play, and we see Jimmy Stewart and
Jean Arthur and Lionel Barrymore, and Frank Capra directed, and
these people are just good at making movies, and if they tell
us to believe something, by Jeffrey, we believe it. Or maybe,
those people just knew where the line was and not to cross it.
"Little Murders," as a movie, has a surreal bent that would
work better on stage. Feiffer says in the commentary that he
did not think it would be possible for him to adapt it, but he
did after reading the first treatment. Perhaps he was right. I
am reminded of the tag line for Stanley Kubrick's "Lolita:"
"How did they ever make a movie of _Lolita?_" Answer from
audiences: They didn't.
Monday, January 21, 2008
This is Why I am Glad Pianos Exist
At the very end of last year, we lost the greatest jazz pianist
of all time: The Maharajah of the Keyboard, O.P., Oscar
Peterson. I know at least one person reading this is now
disagreeing with me, because he likes The Monk better, but the
fact is that there are a lot of great jazz players out there,
from Duke Ellington to Art Tatum, but OP is my favorite, and he
just died, so -- for this post -- he's the best.
I suppose I should justify why I like OP better than Art Tatum,
since while The Monk is great, he's jazz for other jazz artists
not jazz for the audience. Oscar Peterson knows when not to
improvise. Now, improvisation is the soul of jazz, but it's
still only a tool. Art Tatum could never turn it off. If you
listen him play Dvorak you'll see what I mean. I am reminded
of Richard Bentley's comment on Alexander Pope's translation of
the Iliad: "It's a pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call
it 'Homer.'" O.P. could improv with the best, but he also
showed respect to other people's work. His rendition of the
Gershwin Songbook strikes exactly the right balance. (That's unfair, because everyone does that to Humresque, but that's because of Tatum.)
I always get the sense, however, that Oscar Peterson lacks some
street cred on the jazz scene. Partly because he's Canadian,
but also because he was willing to not improvise. Jazz players
think you have to all the damned time, and it gets pretty
annoying. On well known songs, you need things to be kind of
familiar. Music is a visceral language. It takes us back to
important times and feelings of our lives. And the better the
music and the more important the times and feeling, the harsher
it sounds the the ear when the people making the changes screw
it up. For example, when I saw "Spamalot," it just sounded
wrong, when Tim Curry and Co. delivered the lines. Apparently
Mike Nichols told them to say them differently. He was wrong.
(Yes, I just said Mike Nichols was wrong in his direction of a
Broadway play.) Or Beatles' songs. Whenever someone covers
a Beatles' song, it just sounds wrong. Oscar Peterson could play other musicians just as well as he could play straight jazz or anything else, and it never sounds wrong.
My favorite Oscar Peterson story and album: Live at Carnegie Hall. It's available on import. The story goes that O.P. couldn't get a work visa, so they couldn't bill him. On the album, you hear Norman Granz introduce him and call him up on stage from the audience. That section is played during a New York public radio interview with Oscar Peterson which is available here.
of all time: The Maharajah of the Keyboard, O.P., Oscar
Peterson. I know at least one person reading this is now
disagreeing with me, because he likes The Monk better, but the
fact is that there are a lot of great jazz players out there,
from Duke Ellington to Art Tatum, but OP is my favorite, and he
just died, so -- for this post -- he's the best.
I suppose I should justify why I like OP better than Art Tatum,
since while The Monk is great, he's jazz for other jazz artists
not jazz for the audience. Oscar Peterson knows when not to
improvise. Now, improvisation is the soul of jazz, but it's
still only a tool. Art Tatum could never turn it off. If you
listen him play Dvorak you'll see what I mean. I am reminded
of Richard Bentley's comment on Alexander Pope's translation of
the Iliad: "It's a pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call
it 'Homer.'" O.P. could improv with the best, but he also
showed respect to other people's work. His rendition of the
Gershwin Songbook strikes exactly the right balance. (That's unfair, because everyone does that to Humresque, but that's because of Tatum.)
I always get the sense, however, that Oscar Peterson lacks some
street cred on the jazz scene. Partly because he's Canadian,
but also because he was willing to not improvise. Jazz players
think you have to all the damned time, and it gets pretty
annoying. On well known songs, you need things to be kind of
familiar. Music is a visceral language. It takes us back to
important times and feelings of our lives. And the better the
music and the more important the times and feeling, the harsher
it sounds the the ear when the people making the changes screw
it up. For example, when I saw "Spamalot," it just sounded
wrong, when Tim Curry and Co. delivered the lines. Apparently
Mike Nichols told them to say them differently. He was wrong.
(Yes, I just said Mike Nichols was wrong in his direction of a
Broadway play.) Or Beatles' songs. Whenever someone covers
a Beatles' song, it just sounds wrong. Oscar Peterson could play other musicians just as well as he could play straight jazz or anything else, and it never sounds wrong.
My favorite Oscar Peterson story and album: Live at Carnegie Hall. It's available on import. The story goes that O.P. couldn't get a work visa, so they couldn't bill him. On the album, you hear Norman Granz introduce him and call him up on stage from the audience. That section is played during a New York public radio interview with Oscar Peterson which is available here.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Secret Squirrel Would Have Solved It by the Third Issue
I was thinking about Watchmen this week. Specifically, I got to
thinking what makes it so revered amongst comics fans. I don't
mean scholars or critics or whatever. I mean comics fans. In
the 1980's I thought the best comic book around was the Giffen
Dematteis Justice League, but the holy trinity in the 1980's
was clearly Watchmen, Dark Knight Returns and Maus, with polite
nods over to Crisis on Infinite Earths and Swamp Thing, and the
occasional acknowledgement to X-men, The Mighty Thor with
Simonson and Elfquest.
And then when the 1990's came along Sandman, along with
anything done by Grant Morrison.
However, there's no question now that if comics fans were
forced to pick one single comic book to represent the
art form, it would be Watchmen. Why?
Well, it all comes down to one line of dialogue, I think. That
line in the series by Dr. Manhattan: "This world's smartest man
means no more to me than does its smartest termite." Well,
that's a terrific comic book superhero line. Dr. Manhattan had
been pretty aloof for most of the story. In fact part of the
plot was how he became less human and did not interact with
people well. But suddenly at the end, he confronts the villain,
and he's shouting out superhero banter. It's code. It says to
the superhero fan, "Love me, I'm one of you."
It's also a really, really dumb line. Can Dr. Manhattan really
not tell the difference between a termite and a man? Who is the
world's smartest termite, anyway? Is there an unpublished Dr.
Manhattan adventure wherein he fought a termite all through the
termite mounds of Africa whilst it pummelled him with a
cascading combination of atomic deconstructors and tachyon
generating engines? Was there an interuniversal crossover in
which Dr. Manhattan teamed up with Atom Ant?
In the context of the story, it is just bravado. It's Dr.
Manhattan putting Veidt in his place, but why? He five stories
tall when he says it. Is he under the impression that Veidt
does not realize he's dangerous?
No. Obviously not.
I don't think the line has any in story purpose, really. It's
there to make comics fans realize that it's still a superhero
story. I suspect one of those fans was Alan Moore. I can see him
having fallen behind schedule thinking. "Hey, waitasecond, I
screwed up, thee are still superheroes!" And then he writes
this line not realizing that he has heretofore written Dr.
Manhattan as almost apathetic except for one or two scenes
involving sex.
But what it does do is create a comfort level for the story in
the mind of the audience. I makes an unusual story slightly
more familiar. And it makes the story the single favorite of
comics fan. Well, that and the whole "I'm not laughing, the
Comedian is dead thing." Oh, and the Text sections. And the
nine panel grid. And the pirates.
thinking what makes it so revered amongst comics fans. I don't
mean scholars or critics or whatever. I mean comics fans. In
the 1980's I thought the best comic book around was the Giffen
Dematteis Justice League, but the holy trinity in the 1980's
was clearly Watchmen, Dark Knight Returns and Maus, with polite
nods over to Crisis on Infinite Earths and Swamp Thing, and the
occasional acknowledgement to X-men, The Mighty Thor with
Simonson and Elfquest.
And then when the 1990's came along Sandman, along with
anything done by Grant Morrison.
However, there's no question now that if comics fans were
forced to pick one single comic book to represent the
art form, it would be Watchmen. Why?
Well, it all comes down to one line of dialogue, I think. That
line in the series by Dr. Manhattan: "This world's smartest man
means no more to me than does its smartest termite." Well,
that's a terrific comic book superhero line. Dr. Manhattan had
been pretty aloof for most of the story. In fact part of the
plot was how he became less human and did not interact with
people well. But suddenly at the end, he confronts the villain,
and he's shouting out superhero banter. It's code. It says to
the superhero fan, "Love me, I'm one of you."
It's also a really, really dumb line. Can Dr. Manhattan really
not tell the difference between a termite and a man? Who is the
world's smartest termite, anyway? Is there an unpublished Dr.
Manhattan adventure wherein he fought a termite all through the
termite mounds of Africa whilst it pummelled him with a
cascading combination of atomic deconstructors and tachyon
generating engines? Was there an interuniversal crossover in
which Dr. Manhattan teamed up with Atom Ant?
In the context of the story, it is just bravado. It's Dr.
Manhattan putting Veidt in his place, but why? He five stories
tall when he says it. Is he under the impression that Veidt
does not realize he's dangerous?
No. Obviously not.
I don't think the line has any in story purpose, really. It's
there to make comics fans realize that it's still a superhero
story. I suspect one of those fans was Alan Moore. I can see him
having fallen behind schedule thinking. "Hey, waitasecond, I
screwed up, thee are still superheroes!" And then he writes
this line not realizing that he has heretofore written Dr.
Manhattan as almost apathetic except for one or two scenes
involving sex.
But what it does do is create a comfort level for the story in
the mind of the audience. I makes an unusual story slightly
more familiar. And it makes the story the single favorite of
comics fan. Well, that and the whole "I'm not laughing, the
Comedian is dead thing." Oh, and the Text sections. And the
nine panel grid. And the pirates.
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