Virgin virgin virgin virgin virgin.
Why do we make such a fuss over over virginity? Sexual intercourse is simply the usage of an orifice or appendage for the purpose nature intended. Why would we inflate the first time into a consuming, life-changing reality? It makes no logical sense, and the very nature of the definition of "virgin" is random.
A woman can have "BFF" inscribed on her dildo, but still be a virgin?
A woman can use her lover's tongue as toilet paper, and still be a virgin?
A woman can have her girlfriend's fist in her vagina, and still walk (or hobble) away a virgin?
A man can have oral, anal, toe, and even elbow sex, yet still be a virgin? A man can stick his appendage inside a sheep's vagina, yet still be a card-carrying virgin??
No no no no NO! I do not abide random illogic posing as nature.
Do we make any sort of similar fuss over the first time we use our other orifices for their intended purposes? No. We don't obsess over the first time we eat...we just eat, without hoping for a pat on the back when it's done.
Being burped doesn't count.
We don't have tribal rituals for the first time we hear. We don't expect to be cuddled afterward (although personally i expect cuddling after every successful bodily function...but that's just me).
And we most certainly do NOT build up huge psychological weight over the first time we poop.
HENNY: Is it true, Benny...you've never pooped?
BENNY: I'm saving myself.
If you're fixated on genitals, why shouldn't our first pee be heralded as the end of virginity? Or comedic exaggerations aside, wouldn't it make just as much sense to declare that a "virgin" is a woman who's never had a baby? One who's never "used her orifice as nature intended"? Or a man who's never impregnated a woman? In a society like that, people might start to discriminate against the childless, wondering what was wrong with them if they avoided parenthood for too long. There would be an obvious quality to that system, that would free us of a lot of the virginity-speculation rampant in our own society. Not entirely, of course...
CAROL: That Meryl, 29 and still a virgin. Look how she walks around, like her shit don't stink.
CHERYL: I'll bet she goes the other way.
DARRYL: You're both wrong...i heard from a very good source that she gave one up for adoption in her teens.
The phenomenon of "saving oneself" would take on a whole new meaning, and our repressive, unhealthy attitudes about sex might dissolve entirely. A woman who decided she wanted to have children could invite her intended to watch her celebratory final gang bang with the boys' water polo team. He could cuddle with her afterward...or maybe give her the final poke (there is evidence that the last man in a gang bang has the best chance of impregnation...just one of a million things science hasn't figured out yet)
Anyway, i'm just saying our obsession with "virginity", and the random way in which we define the word, is not natural at all, and says a lot about who we are as a people. Just as a society which equated virginity-loss with childbirth, would be advertising a million unspoken things about their own values.
BENNY: I just want it to be really special. I want it to be magic.
HENNY: Benny, you're 27. It's time. We are gonna poop your cherry.
Are you a virgin?
Do you want to be?
Easier done than you think.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
black dream
My brother Jeff and i were back in the suburban home of our youth. It was a grey, cold day. I looked into the back yard, and there was a man in a black trenchcoat peering through the back wooden fence. It had been wedged open a foot or so. He was holding what might have been a sniper rifle. I told Jeff to go upstairs. I went into the yard to confront the man. He was black and incredibly tall, with icy demeanor. After i spoke a couple sentences, he calmly fired a couple of shots between my legs. I hastened back into the house. Jeff hadn't gone upstairs yet, and as i was urgently whispering to him to go up and call the police, we noticed that the sliding glass door was broken, and that a black bear was coming into the room. Jeff went up, and i went back onto the porch. I told the man i had no problem with him. I followed him into the house, and asked him whether he needed food for his bear. He looked at me icily, then said that would be fine. He handed me his lit cigarette, which was light blue. I searched for an ashtray, remembering Jeff was a smoker. I found one on top of the phone. I doubted i'd be able to find meat for this bear, but there were several packages of ground beef right on the top refrigerator shelf. I offered it to him, and he said "Heated?" I threw it into the microwave, then hurried the steaming, dripping meat to the bear.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
The Larry Sanders Show
1992-1998
One of the seminal shows in television history, LARRY SANDERS showed the backstage workings of a network late night talk show perpetually destined for second-best. It was the first TV comedy with dialogue both scripted and improvised. In bringing the show to life, star and creator Garry Shandling called on his experience as a recurring guest host for Johnny Carson. Rip Torn (MEN IN BLACK, BEASTMASTER) plays the gruff, capable producer Artie. Jeffrey Tambor (ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT, THE ROPERS) is Hank, the no-talent sidekick. Every episode dared you to not realize this show was funny in a way you'd never seen.
ULTIMATE LARRYTHON (season)
-What Have You Done For Me Lately? (1)
How many more brilliant pilots have there ever been? The network forces Larry to do on-air product promos, an idea he loathes so much he sabotages the promo with snark. Hank saves the day. The Garden Weasel! And Robert Hays!
-Party (1)
Larry's wife invites Artie and his wife over to dinner, an idea Larry is none too thrilled with. One by one, the staff wheedles invitations. Artie drinks salty dogs, you pussies!
-Off Camera (2)
An entertainment writer (Joshua Malina - SPORTS NIGHT, THE WEST WING) takes notes backstage for a story. Pettiness and mayhem abound. Guests Gene Siskel, John Ritter, and Warren Zevon are beautiful.
-Hank's Wedding (2)
Hank proposes on-air to a young woman he's known for a couple weeks. They marry on-air. Everyone except Artie thinks it's a horrible idea. Alex Trebek officiates. The strip club bachelor party with Ed McMahon is too classic.
-Roseanne's Return (4)
Larry's ex Roseanne is scheduled to appear, sending him into a neurotic tizzy. The cast is watching the O.J. trial. Hank, who lives on O.J.'s street, defends his neighbor. An enraged Phil eggs Hank's Bentley, leaving yolk on his shoes and eggs in his office. As Hank is furious over Phil's obvious guilt, a point is made with hilarity and razor-sharp incisiveness. Larry's contentious banter with Roseanne is high-wire hysterical.
-Putting the 'Gay' Back in Litigation (6)
The odds against lightning striking on all fronts when a show divides into three plotlines are staggering. Brian, fed up with Phil's gay jokes, sues the show for harassment. Scott Thompson's greatest moment. Both Wallace Langham's jokes and the pressures he's under are perfectly rendered...with an audacious climax between the two that would have missed the mark 99 tries out of a hundred. Meanwhile, Larry worries that his new girlfriend Ileana Douglas isn't a good enough guest to date. He bumbles around, then has a humorless moment that makes you realize for the first time in six seasons that he understands how fucked up he is. Over on track C, Hank mines comic gold as he films celebrity friends doing farewell tributes to Larry. Bruno Kirby and Drew Barrymore are priceless.
-Flip (6)
The hour-long series finale. Even though a few of the segments are just a hair off razor sharp, it doesn't stop the whole from being perfect. The perfect ending to this show that gave us the flip side of TV...the dysfunctional mess that stars are offstage, and the ugly, embarrassing creative process that goes into probably every real show we've ever loved. It's a sign of how close to the bone this show went, in the unspooling of stars who showed up at the end. Warren Beatty is chased by Larry in a parking lot. Jim Carrey's on-air tribute is an eye-popping wonderment. David Duchovny's invoking of Sharon Stone's most iconic scene is comic perfection. Plus Jerry Seinfeld, Sean Penn, Carol Burnett, Tim Allen, Tom Petty, Ellen Degeneres, Greg Kinnear, and...someone i'm forgetting...oh yes, Bruno Kirby! And again how bizarre, in that it would all mirror reality so closely, the willingness of stars to appear on a highly-rated, beloved series finale. You can't help wondering where the fantasy stops, and where the reality begins. The show within the show was never more than semi-beloved, so it almost strains credibilty to have this many celebrities. But it doesn't quite cross that implausible line. Jeremy Piven and Linda Doucett return after long absences. And at the core, the big three knock out some of their most poignant scenes ever. Artie cries, alone in the costume room. Hank's kiss-off scene is towering (as is his tail-between-legs apology). Do NOT miss the deleted scenes. The last moment, as Larry looks back...you might just shed a tear yourself.
One of the seminal shows in television history, LARRY SANDERS showed the backstage workings of a network late night talk show perpetually destined for second-best. It was the first TV comedy with dialogue both scripted and improvised. In bringing the show to life, star and creator Garry Shandling called on his experience as a recurring guest host for Johnny Carson. Rip Torn (MEN IN BLACK, BEASTMASTER) plays the gruff, capable producer Artie. Jeffrey Tambor (ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT, THE ROPERS) is Hank, the no-talent sidekick. Every episode dared you to not realize this show was funny in a way you'd never seen.
ULTIMATE LARRYTHON (season)
-What Have You Done For Me Lately? (1)
How many more brilliant pilots have there ever been? The network forces Larry to do on-air product promos, an idea he loathes so much he sabotages the promo with snark. Hank saves the day. The Garden Weasel! And Robert Hays!
-Party (1)
Larry's wife invites Artie and his wife over to dinner, an idea Larry is none too thrilled with. One by one, the staff wheedles invitations. Artie drinks salty dogs, you pussies!
-Off Camera (2)
An entertainment writer (Joshua Malina - SPORTS NIGHT, THE WEST WING) takes notes backstage for a story. Pettiness and mayhem abound. Guests Gene Siskel, John Ritter, and Warren Zevon are beautiful.
-Hank's Wedding (2)
Hank proposes on-air to a young woman he's known for a couple weeks. They marry on-air. Everyone except Artie thinks it's a horrible idea. Alex Trebek officiates. The strip club bachelor party with Ed McMahon is too classic.
-Roseanne's Return (4)
Larry's ex Roseanne is scheduled to appear, sending him into a neurotic tizzy. The cast is watching the O.J. trial. Hank, who lives on O.J.'s street, defends his neighbor. An enraged Phil eggs Hank's Bentley, leaving yolk on his shoes and eggs in his office. As Hank is furious over Phil's obvious guilt, a point is made with hilarity and razor-sharp incisiveness. Larry's contentious banter with Roseanne is high-wire hysterical.
-Putting the 'Gay' Back in Litigation (6)
The odds against lightning striking on all fronts when a show divides into three plotlines are staggering. Brian, fed up with Phil's gay jokes, sues the show for harassment. Scott Thompson's greatest moment. Both Wallace Langham's jokes and the pressures he's under are perfectly rendered...with an audacious climax between the two that would have missed the mark 99 tries out of a hundred. Meanwhile, Larry worries that his new girlfriend Ileana Douglas isn't a good enough guest to date. He bumbles around, then has a humorless moment that makes you realize for the first time in six seasons that he understands how fucked up he is. Over on track C, Hank mines comic gold as he films celebrity friends doing farewell tributes to Larry. Bruno Kirby and Drew Barrymore are priceless.
-Flip (6)
The hour-long series finale. Even though a few of the segments are just a hair off razor sharp, it doesn't stop the whole from being perfect. The perfect ending to this show that gave us the flip side of TV...the dysfunctional mess that stars are offstage, and the ugly, embarrassing creative process that goes into probably every real show we've ever loved. It's a sign of how close to the bone this show went, in the unspooling of stars who showed up at the end. Warren Beatty is chased by Larry in a parking lot. Jim Carrey's on-air tribute is an eye-popping wonderment. David Duchovny's invoking of Sharon Stone's most iconic scene is comic perfection. Plus Jerry Seinfeld, Sean Penn, Carol Burnett, Tim Allen, Tom Petty, Ellen Degeneres, Greg Kinnear, and...someone i'm forgetting...oh yes, Bruno Kirby! And again how bizarre, in that it would all mirror reality so closely, the willingness of stars to appear on a highly-rated, beloved series finale. You can't help wondering where the fantasy stops, and where the reality begins. The show within the show was never more than semi-beloved, so it almost strains credibilty to have this many celebrities. But it doesn't quite cross that implausible line. Jeremy Piven and Linda Doucett return after long absences. And at the core, the big three knock out some of their most poignant scenes ever. Artie cries, alone in the costume room. Hank's kiss-off scene is towering (as is his tail-between-legs apology). Do NOT miss the deleted scenes. The last moment, as Larry looks back...you might just shed a tear yourself.
Monday, December 19, 2011
press conference
(A press conference held by rock star Shane McTaggish. He's in his sixties, grizzled and craggy-looking.)
SHANE: Cheers, and thanks for coming. I've called this conference to announce to the world, that I have fallen in love with the most amazing woman in the world. I've asked this woman for her hand, and all the other bits too, in marriage. She's the most amazing woman I've ever met...did I say that? I said that. I never imagined that I could love another human being the way I love her. I know, I know, I've done this dance a few times before...even said one or two of the same words...but this woman, she makes every woman I've ever known seem like a silly child. It's the first time in my life I've ever truly felt like myself around someone. She's the only woman who's ever not cared one tiny bit about me bein' a star...it's like she doesn't even relate to me as "Shane McTaggish", whoever the hell that bloke is. I want to have a family with this woman, like, tomorrow. I want to grow old with her. I want to have a garden with her. I know, I know...I can see you have lots of questions. But why don't we bring her out, then you can ask us both. Would you like that? (a wave of assent from the crowd) I thought as much. Come on out, Sweetybunny! Yeah, over here, that's right. (Mary joins Shane. She is in her nineties.) She's a little shy, so we'll see if we can get her to talk. (he squeezes and tickles her, and she slaps his hand) Ladies and lads, I'd like you to meet my fiance...Mary MacPherson. (there have been occasional flashbulbs, but now there is a flurry) Say hello, Mary. (she dignifiedly nods) A real chatterbox, this one. We'll take questions. (There is a silence. Shane looks around.) Yes, you?
REPORTER #1: Um...is this your first marriage, Mary? (she shakes her head)
SHANE: She's been married once before...but not one a'them Hollywood marriages. How many years was it, Sweetybunny?
MARY: Forty-seven.
SHANE: He died young though...taken before his time. (she nods) But Mary obviously knows how to make love work. She's the strongest person I've ever met. You?
REPORTER #2: Uh...how did you and Mary meet?
SHANE: Tell 'em, Hun. (she shakes her head) My little shy Bunny...we met in a massage parlor. No really! In the lobby. She asked me to recommend a masseuse, and i had just been worked over by this big, blonde amazon, who left me black and blue, I swear. I told Mary I refused to let her go through the same torture, so I invited her to my place, where my regular masseuse would take care of her. She came, and enjoyed it immensely. I invited her for another session, but the second time i gave my masseuse the day off. When Mary got there, I suggested we massage each other. And we did.
REPORTER #2: And one thing led to...
SHANE: That's exactly right, mate. Innit, Sweetybunny? (she rolls her eyes) Yes?
REPORTER #3: Shane, did you say that you and Miss MacPherson were planning...a family?
SHANE: Absolutely, yes. We're workin' on that. She says we might adopt. Whatever, any way...I just can't wait.
REPORTER #3: But you're working on it the...old-fashioned way?
SHANE: Ahhh, you cheeky boy. Shame on you. Cover your ears, Sweetbunny. (he tries to cover her ears, and gets his hand slapped away) It's always about sex with you jounalistes, innit? Gotta sell those papers. Well I for one refuse to pander to such a... (he starts laughing) ...I'm sorry, I can't keep a straight face. Yeah. You're looking at a man who is having the best sex he's ever had. And he's had a lot of sex. Mary don't mind me saying this, but she's actually a bit older than me. And you know, you always hear about "older women, older women"...I never imagined it was actually true. Bloody fantastic. But all you blokes, you won't listen...I was like you once. Yes?
REPORTER #4: Shane, isn't there any concern about...well, being too old to start a family?
SHANE: That's an honest question...no no no, don't give 'er a dirty look. I've thought about that, i 'ave...and the truth is, yeah, I've lived a hard life. No mistake about it. My doctors can't guarantee I'll live another twenty years, or...ten...or, whatever. But that's life, innit? And I know that, however long I live, these children will be loved. What else can you do?
REPORTER #4: No Shane, I wasn't uh, talking about...
SHANE: About what?
REPORTER #4: I...I have no question.
SHANE: Alright then. Anyone else? No? No? That's good, cos' Mary and I have a plane waiting. She claims she's not a member of the mile-high club. I don't believe her for a second. Yeah, you?
REPORTER #1: Shane, Mary...is there a wedding date set? (Mary nods)
SHANE: Well, yeah. Since you ask...and since I can't ask you all along...we'll be in Mexico in the morning, and when we get back home, we'll have another conference in which you'll meet Mrs. Mary McTaggish. (they kiss) Cheers, all. See you in a few weeks. (they stand, amid murmurs)
REPORTER #3: Shane, have the other members of the band met her?? Shane! (the couple exit the hubbub)
SHANE: Cheers, and thanks for coming. I've called this conference to announce to the world, that I have fallen in love with the most amazing woman in the world. I've asked this woman for her hand, and all the other bits too, in marriage. She's the most amazing woman I've ever met...did I say that? I said that. I never imagined that I could love another human being the way I love her. I know, I know, I've done this dance a few times before...even said one or two of the same words...but this woman, she makes every woman I've ever known seem like a silly child. It's the first time in my life I've ever truly felt like myself around someone. She's the only woman who's ever not cared one tiny bit about me bein' a star...it's like she doesn't even relate to me as "Shane McTaggish", whoever the hell that bloke is. I want to have a family with this woman, like, tomorrow. I want to grow old with her. I want to have a garden with her. I know, I know...I can see you have lots of questions. But why don't we bring her out, then you can ask us both. Would you like that? (a wave of assent from the crowd) I thought as much. Come on out, Sweetybunny! Yeah, over here, that's right. (Mary joins Shane. She is in her nineties.) She's a little shy, so we'll see if we can get her to talk. (he squeezes and tickles her, and she slaps his hand) Ladies and lads, I'd like you to meet my fiance...Mary MacPherson. (there have been occasional flashbulbs, but now there is a flurry) Say hello, Mary. (she dignifiedly nods) A real chatterbox, this one. We'll take questions. (There is a silence. Shane looks around.) Yes, you?
REPORTER #1: Um...is this your first marriage, Mary? (she shakes her head)
SHANE: She's been married once before...but not one a'them Hollywood marriages. How many years was it, Sweetybunny?
MARY: Forty-seven.
SHANE: He died young though...taken before his time. (she nods) But Mary obviously knows how to make love work. She's the strongest person I've ever met. You?
REPORTER #2: Uh...how did you and Mary meet?
SHANE: Tell 'em, Hun. (she shakes her head) My little shy Bunny...we met in a massage parlor. No really! In the lobby. She asked me to recommend a masseuse, and i had just been worked over by this big, blonde amazon, who left me black and blue, I swear. I told Mary I refused to let her go through the same torture, so I invited her to my place, where my regular masseuse would take care of her. She came, and enjoyed it immensely. I invited her for another session, but the second time i gave my masseuse the day off. When Mary got there, I suggested we massage each other. And we did.
REPORTER #2: And one thing led to...
SHANE: That's exactly right, mate. Innit, Sweetybunny? (she rolls her eyes) Yes?
REPORTER #3: Shane, did you say that you and Miss MacPherson were planning...a family?
SHANE: Absolutely, yes. We're workin' on that. She says we might adopt. Whatever, any way...I just can't wait.
REPORTER #3: But you're working on it the...old-fashioned way?
SHANE: Ahhh, you cheeky boy. Shame on you. Cover your ears, Sweetbunny. (he tries to cover her ears, and gets his hand slapped away) It's always about sex with you jounalistes, innit? Gotta sell those papers. Well I for one refuse to pander to such a... (he starts laughing) ...I'm sorry, I can't keep a straight face. Yeah. You're looking at a man who is having the best sex he's ever had. And he's had a lot of sex. Mary don't mind me saying this, but she's actually a bit older than me. And you know, you always hear about "older women, older women"...I never imagined it was actually true. Bloody fantastic. But all you blokes, you won't listen...I was like you once. Yes?
REPORTER #4: Shane, isn't there any concern about...well, being too old to start a family?
SHANE: That's an honest question...no no no, don't give 'er a dirty look. I've thought about that, i 'ave...and the truth is, yeah, I've lived a hard life. No mistake about it. My doctors can't guarantee I'll live another twenty years, or...ten...or, whatever. But that's life, innit? And I know that, however long I live, these children will be loved. What else can you do?
REPORTER #4: No Shane, I wasn't uh, talking about...
SHANE: About what?
REPORTER #4: I...I have no question.
SHANE: Alright then. Anyone else? No? No? That's good, cos' Mary and I have a plane waiting. She claims she's not a member of the mile-high club. I don't believe her for a second. Yeah, you?
REPORTER #1: Shane, Mary...is there a wedding date set? (Mary nods)
SHANE: Well, yeah. Since you ask...and since I can't ask you all along...we'll be in Mexico in the morning, and when we get back home, we'll have another conference in which you'll meet Mrs. Mary McTaggish. (they kiss) Cheers, all. See you in a few weeks. (they stand, amid murmurs)
REPORTER #3: Shane, have the other members of the band met her?? Shane! (the couple exit the hubbub)
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Starhunter
2000-2001
I actually got through the entire series. I'd like to tell you that i did so out of a faint feeling of guilt for having dismissed so many sci fi series after less than a full season. Yeah, that's the reason i gutted it out.
Or perhaps it had to do with the fact that in the pilot, my eyes fell out when i saw some of the most beautiful boobies we'll ever see, entirely unaugmented by surgery (or the costume department). Hungrily, i stayed with this turkey through the rest of the 22 episodes, hoping that similar helpings of heaven would be regular stops along the way. If you are moved by similar delight...
Then stop the moment actress Helen Latham, um, shuffles off this mortal flesh in a pyrotechnic blaze. Turn off the disc, and run to the next contestant in the eternal quest for non-crappy sci fi.
And pardon me for being so moved by Miss Latham, but is it so much to ask that sci fi produce a series that acknowledges the importance of sex to human beings, and not in such a way that makes you think your shrewish Aunt Gladys isn't peering over the producers' shoulders, ready to swat them with a ruler should they fail to live up to the Hayes censorship code of 19-FREAKING-30!?
I'm just saying.
As for STARHUNTER, i'd like to tell you that it's second-rate. That, however, would be a lie. Workable performances, decent visuals, a concept with potential (hundreds of years in the future, warp travel is just a dream, Earth is a wasteland, and human spaceships clutter our solar system)...but you had the feeling that there weren't enough good writers, and too many memos from producers who didn't know spit about storytelling. It's nice to see star Michael Pare' again, but the only people i'd recommend this one to are those who call EDDIE AND THE CRUISERS the bestest flick ever.
I actually got through the entire series. I'd like to tell you that i did so out of a faint feeling of guilt for having dismissed so many sci fi series after less than a full season. Yeah, that's the reason i gutted it out.
Or perhaps it had to do with the fact that in the pilot, my eyes fell out when i saw some of the most beautiful boobies we'll ever see, entirely unaugmented by surgery (or the costume department). Hungrily, i stayed with this turkey through the rest of the 22 episodes, hoping that similar helpings of heaven would be regular stops along the way. If you are moved by similar delight...
Then stop the moment actress Helen Latham, um, shuffles off this mortal flesh in a pyrotechnic blaze. Turn off the disc, and run to the next contestant in the eternal quest for non-crappy sci fi.
And pardon me for being so moved by Miss Latham, but is it so much to ask that sci fi produce a series that acknowledges the importance of sex to human beings, and not in such a way that makes you think your shrewish Aunt Gladys isn't peering over the producers' shoulders, ready to swat them with a ruler should they fail to live up to the Hayes censorship code of 19-FREAKING-30!?
I'm just saying.
As for STARHUNTER, i'd like to tell you that it's second-rate. That, however, would be a lie. Workable performances, decent visuals, a concept with potential (hundreds of years in the future, warp travel is just a dream, Earth is a wasteland, and human spaceships clutter our solar system)...but you had the feeling that there weren't enough good writers, and too many memos from producers who didn't know spit about storytelling. It's nice to see star Michael Pare' again, but the only people i'd recommend this one to are those who call EDDIE AND THE CRUISERS the bestest flick ever.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
the knicker wars
Knickers.
Some words are just funny.
"Cor, i nearly peed my knickers!"
"Alright ladies, knickers off!"
The word "knickers" takes on an added level of embarrassed humor in America, as we're not 100% sure what they are, but know that it's something to do with panties and privates, so we go through our whole lives pretending we actually know, when we don't. Our confusion is compounded by the fact that golfer's short pants seem to be referred to as knickers, too. As indeed they are.
But in Great Britain, my friends, knickers are no more or less than plain old panties. Brits say "panties" too, avoiding our confusion.
The classic knicker definition is "long panties", from the 19th century (the crack of dawn for women's undergarments in the western world). Knickers came down to just below the knee. As women wore dresses, the thought of "briefer" undergarments didn't occur to anyone. For their first 100 years, knickers were two separate legs connected at the waist. In a word - crotchless. Yes. Queen Victoria wore crotchless panties.
And then at the end of the 19th century, came the darkest period in underwear's brief history. A time so disturbing, that history books don't speak of it.
THE KNICKER WARS.
Great cultural forces came clashing together, and underwear ultimately did the same.
The crotchless aspect of panties in the 19th century had made for a randy time. If victorians seem dour, it's only because they all put on their serious faces for paintings...photography wasn't widespread enough for that which we all take for granted - the candid shot. Candid shots of victorians would have shown some happy, sexy people.
Do you know how fast you can get to a woman's tingly bits, when she's wearing a dress and crotchless panties?
You probably don't. But every victorian man and woman did.
And life went happily along, until the forces of social prudery, spearheaded by the church, got together. They decided that all this easy access was an affront to decency. Crotched panties were born, and across a nation, people quickly took sides.
The church's side became known forever as the knicker-haters.
On the other side...the knicker-lovers.
Any pretense of decency and tolerance quickly faded. Shops and community centers began displaying signs, "KNICKERS NOT ALLOWED". Gangs of knicker-haters roamed the streets, holding aloft crotched panties. When they came across a woman who wouldn't raise her dress, they forced their inspections upon her. Were she to be found wearing classic knickers, they would be torn from her and destroyed, along with her dress. They would then forcibly place crotched panties on her, tie her hands behind her back, and set her free.
In response, the knicker-lovers flouted their freedom more than ever. Kilts became the fashion of the day, making random sexual trysts even more unencumbered. Whereas before people had been content to confine their carnal consummations to alleyways and linen closets, it became a sign of social protest for couples to copulate in the open streets. Some knicker-lovers took to wearing a pair of crotched panties on one of their arms, signifying to any knicker-loving stranger that they were game for a shag anytime, anyplace.
In March of 1899, the knicker-haters held their largest public protest in front of Westminster Palace. Twenty thousand voices came together, shouting "WE HATE KNICKERS...WE HATE KNICKERS...WE HATE KNICKERS...WE HATE KNICKERS".
The following Wednesday, seven thousand knicker-lovers disguised as knicker-haters gathered before Westminster, threw off their disguises, and had an orgy.
In 1900, the eighty year-old Queen Victoria made her last public appearance at Buckingham Palace. Rheumatism had left her barely able to stand. She knew only that a strong message from England's monarch could quell the violence tearing apart the land. Pushing her nurses aside, she slowly lifted her dress.
She was wearing crotched panties.
And the days of knicker-lovers were done.
Some words are just funny.
"Cor, i nearly peed my knickers!"
"Alright ladies, knickers off!"
The word "knickers" takes on an added level of embarrassed humor in America, as we're not 100% sure what they are, but know that it's something to do with panties and privates, so we go through our whole lives pretending we actually know, when we don't. Our confusion is compounded by the fact that golfer's short pants seem to be referred to as knickers, too. As indeed they are.
But in Great Britain, my friends, knickers are no more or less than plain old panties. Brits say "panties" too, avoiding our confusion.
The classic knicker definition is "long panties", from the 19th century (the crack of dawn for women's undergarments in the western world). Knickers came down to just below the knee. As women wore dresses, the thought of "briefer" undergarments didn't occur to anyone. For their first 100 years, knickers were two separate legs connected at the waist. In a word - crotchless. Yes. Queen Victoria wore crotchless panties.
And then at the end of the 19th century, came the darkest period in underwear's brief history. A time so disturbing, that history books don't speak of it.
THE KNICKER WARS.
Great cultural forces came clashing together, and underwear ultimately did the same.
The crotchless aspect of panties in the 19th century had made for a randy time. If victorians seem dour, it's only because they all put on their serious faces for paintings...photography wasn't widespread enough for that which we all take for granted - the candid shot. Candid shots of victorians would have shown some happy, sexy people.
Do you know how fast you can get to a woman's tingly bits, when she's wearing a dress and crotchless panties?
You probably don't. But every victorian man and woman did.
And life went happily along, until the forces of social prudery, spearheaded by the church, got together. They decided that all this easy access was an affront to decency. Crotched panties were born, and across a nation, people quickly took sides.
The church's side became known forever as the knicker-haters.
On the other side...the knicker-lovers.
Any pretense of decency and tolerance quickly faded. Shops and community centers began displaying signs, "KNICKERS NOT ALLOWED". Gangs of knicker-haters roamed the streets, holding aloft crotched panties. When they came across a woman who wouldn't raise her dress, they forced their inspections upon her. Were she to be found wearing classic knickers, they would be torn from her and destroyed, along with her dress. They would then forcibly place crotched panties on her, tie her hands behind her back, and set her free.
In response, the knicker-lovers flouted their freedom more than ever. Kilts became the fashion of the day, making random sexual trysts even more unencumbered. Whereas before people had been content to confine their carnal consummations to alleyways and linen closets, it became a sign of social protest for couples to copulate in the open streets. Some knicker-lovers took to wearing a pair of crotched panties on one of their arms, signifying to any knicker-loving stranger that they were game for a shag anytime, anyplace.
In March of 1899, the knicker-haters held their largest public protest in front of Westminster Palace. Twenty thousand voices came together, shouting "WE HATE KNICKERS...WE HATE KNICKERS...WE HATE KNICKERS...WE HATE KNICKERS".
The following Wednesday, seven thousand knicker-lovers disguised as knicker-haters gathered before Westminster, threw off their disguises, and had an orgy.
In 1900, the eighty year-old Queen Victoria made her last public appearance at Buckingham Palace. Rheumatism had left her barely able to stand. She knew only that a strong message from England's monarch could quell the violence tearing apart the land. Pushing her nurses aside, she slowly lifted her dress.
She was wearing crotched panties.
And the days of knicker-lovers were done.
cyber-crickets
Yes yes, thank you all for your responses to my "cyber-dating 101" article. It's humbling to be the object of such unmitigated awe.
However, i neglected to mention...
I can't write a romance ad to save my life.
I know, i know, it's comprehensible. But true, as evidenced by the fact that the majority of the ads below received no, repeat NO, bona fide responses. Those that did, got maybe one.
I know, i know, who's greedy enough to want more than one?
Here they are, a year's worth of neglected messages in bottles...
IN YOUR SKIN
I'm not crazy about the phrase "in your skin", as it implies that skin is something you possess, as opposed to something you are. But the phrase is entirely germane to this ad's line of thought, so...
Skin. The largest organ. Our contact point with the human race.
Intuitively or scientifically, you are aware of the profound human need for touch. Aware of how touch-deprived this society is. You run the other way. Hugs, massage, hugs, sex, hugs, cuddling...this is perhaps the only area of life in which you've never found a "too much" point.
Unless you're a performing artist, you can't imagine denying your skin's desire to breathe by painting it with makeup.
Above all...you are comfortable in your skin.
You know yourself.
You like yourself.
You don't live for the approval of others. You can't relate to the fearful state of mind required to not post a picture. You've broken free (as much as possible) of judeo-christian self-loathing. You love being naked, and don't care who knows it. Your need for emotional nakedness parallels that.You don't care about the color of your pigmentation, or mine.
THE THREE "E"s!
EMOTIONAL SUPPORT - Maybe i'll be the one who never lets you get away with shit, maybe i'll be so honest that it will take getting used to, but you'll never doubt my desire to love, understand, and be there.
EQUALITY - The real deal. It's 2011, you're ready.
ENDORPHINS - How many massages a week is enough? How many hours of lovemaking?
Easygoing would be great too, but then i'd lose my long E/three rhyme scheme. Aside from all that, i'm just a non-materialist, non-drinking, nature/music/movie-loving silly person.
SILLY WILDFLOWER?
I'm a free spirit living with one foot off the grid, for whom nothing is more sacred than friendship and honesty. I've had humbling, astounding experiences as a lover, yet most of my life i've been unheld, unwilling to settle. Most people are too damaged and uncomfortable in their skin to love another...slaves to the past, or chained by fears for the future. I want someone to hold, discover, rub, and bedevil. Pillow fights, practical jokes. I don't drink, make the scene, or like money. I love nature and music and physical activity, and movies and sci fi. My greatest passion is writing.
I put no limits on the intensity or duration of any romance, but i'm also up on the science of human sexuality, so check any Disney nonsense at the gate. It's also hard to imagine that you wear makeup. Who's ready to be loved and adored, and show the human race where it's going?
IDIOTS 'R' US
I care about your integrity, authenticity, playfulness, and sobriety. Hopefully without violating the spirit of quality number two, describe whom your spirit is a combination of. Me: Henry David Thoreau, Simone de Beauvoir, Gene Roddenberry, and George Carlin. If you're tempted to mention your age, skin color, or bank account, i think they're having a singles night at Idiots 'R Us this week.
SWEET PERSONALITEA
1) A love of reading, and the sharing of ideas.
2) A love of nature and physical activity.
3) A love of dancing (bonfire preferable to club).
4) A love, love, love of music.
5) A self-identity not tied to age or skin color.
6) A set of values that doesn't include materialism.
7) A set of passions that doesn't include drugs.
8) A steamer trunk that doesn't include makeup or high heels.
9) Scientifically or experientially suspicious of monogamy.
10) Some affinity for geekdom.
11) A belief system that doesn't include an invisible rabbit who grants you eternal life.
DIRECTIONS: In the subject line of your response, put the number of these qualities you embody. Nobody's expecting an 11 (if you're silly and romantic, take a bonus point).
P.S. The women of Colorado just called, saying that NY women are materialistic fashionistas who will never answer this. Are you going to take that?
P.P.S. Hurry, this might get flagged! (by the women of Colorado, trying to keep me for themselves)
However, i neglected to mention...
I can't write a romance ad to save my life.
I know, i know, it's comprehensible. But true, as evidenced by the fact that the majority of the ads below received no, repeat NO, bona fide responses. Those that did, got maybe one.
I know, i know, who's greedy enough to want more than one?
Here they are, a year's worth of neglected messages in bottles...
IN YOUR SKIN
I'm not crazy about the phrase "in your skin", as it implies that skin is something you possess, as opposed to something you are. But the phrase is entirely germane to this ad's line of thought, so...
Skin. The largest organ. Our contact point with the human race.
Intuitively or scientifically, you are aware of the profound human need for touch. Aware of how touch-deprived this society is. You run the other way. Hugs, massage, hugs, sex, hugs, cuddling...this is perhaps the only area of life in which you've never found a "too much" point.
Unless you're a performing artist, you can't imagine denying your skin's desire to breathe by painting it with makeup.
Above all...you are comfortable in your skin.
You know yourself.
You like yourself.
You don't live for the approval of others. You can't relate to the fearful state of mind required to not post a picture. You've broken free (as much as possible) of judeo-christian self-loathing. You love being naked, and don't care who knows it. Your need for emotional nakedness parallels that.You don't care about the color of your pigmentation, or mine.
THE THREE "E"s!
EMOTIONAL SUPPORT - Maybe i'll be the one who never lets you get away with shit, maybe i'll be so honest that it will take getting used to, but you'll never doubt my desire to love, understand, and be there.
EQUALITY - The real deal. It's 2011, you're ready.
ENDORPHINS - How many massages a week is enough? How many hours of lovemaking?
Easygoing would be great too, but then i'd lose my long E/three rhyme scheme. Aside from all that, i'm just a non-materialist, non-drinking, nature/music/movie-loving silly person.
SILLY WILDFLOWER?
I'm a free spirit living with one foot off the grid, for whom nothing is more sacred than friendship and honesty. I've had humbling, astounding experiences as a lover, yet most of my life i've been unheld, unwilling to settle. Most people are too damaged and uncomfortable in their skin to love another...slaves to the past, or chained by fears for the future. I want someone to hold, discover, rub, and bedevil. Pillow fights, practical jokes. I don't drink, make the scene, or like money. I love nature and music and physical activity, and movies and sci fi. My greatest passion is writing.
I put no limits on the intensity or duration of any romance, but i'm also up on the science of human sexuality, so check any Disney nonsense at the gate. It's also hard to imagine that you wear makeup. Who's ready to be loved and adored, and show the human race where it's going?
IDIOTS 'R' US
I care about your integrity, authenticity, playfulness, and sobriety. Hopefully without violating the spirit of quality number two, describe whom your spirit is a combination of. Me: Henry David Thoreau, Simone de Beauvoir, Gene Roddenberry, and George Carlin. If you're tempted to mention your age, skin color, or bank account, i think they're having a singles night at Idiots 'R Us this week.
SWEET PERSONALITEA
1) A love of reading, and the sharing of ideas.
2) A love of nature and physical activity.
3) A love of dancing (bonfire preferable to club).
4) A love, love, love of music.
5) A self-identity not tied to age or skin color.
6) A set of values that doesn't include materialism.
7) A set of passions that doesn't include drugs.
8) A steamer trunk that doesn't include makeup or high heels.
9) Scientifically or experientially suspicious of monogamy.
10) Some affinity for geekdom.
11) A belief system that doesn't include an invisible rabbit who grants you eternal life.
DIRECTIONS: In the subject line of your response, put the number of these qualities you embody. Nobody's expecting an 11 (if you're silly and romantic, take a bonus point).
P.S. The women of Colorado just called, saying that NY women are materialistic fashionistas who will never answer this. Are you going to take that?
P.P.S. Hurry, this might get flagged! (by the women of Colorado, trying to keep me for themselves)
Mark, Luke, John
Mark 14:51-52
What a fascinating 29-word mention; who WAS this young man?
Luke 14:26
It stretches the boundaries of reason and logic to suggest that hatred of self and others is necessary for religious purity. The only way to justify this would be to believe that all humans possess innate evil. There are, indeed, many who hold such a view. But does it seem credible that the Lord could create (in It's own image?) innately evil beings? Wouldn't the Lord have to be evil to do so?
John 2:6-11
If the Christ were to come today, might It perform miracles of creating marijuana, or peyote, or heroin, or some other drug? If the Christ is willing to create alcohol, let's not quibble over the potency of any other mind-altering drug of your choice. While he never advocated drugs as a path to Heaven, he obviously endorsed their use. Many religions have more overtly paired drugs with spiritual experience. I have no point, merely a curious observation…
What a fascinating 29-word mention; who WAS this young man?
Luke 14:26
It stretches the boundaries of reason and logic to suggest that hatred of self and others is necessary for religious purity. The only way to justify this would be to believe that all humans possess innate evil. There are, indeed, many who hold such a view. But does it seem credible that the Lord could create (in It's own image?) innately evil beings? Wouldn't the Lord have to be evil to do so?
John 2:6-11
If the Christ were to come today, might It perform miracles of creating marijuana, or peyote, or heroin, or some other drug? If the Christ is willing to create alcohol, let's not quibble over the potency of any other mind-altering drug of your choice. While he never advocated drugs as a path to Heaven, he obviously endorsed their use. Many religions have more overtly paired drugs with spiritual experience. I have no point, merely a curious observation…
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Buried Child
THEATER 57
-spring 2001
I returned to the Orpheus. Why? A couple reasons. I believed in what we'd been trying to create, and had strong loyalty to Tony. In his besieged life, i wanted to energize his dream a bit longer. At the same time, i knew that an era had passed, and that my time at the Orpheus was ending. I knew i wouldn't be able to create the intense theater i was interested in, not there. But i wanted others to keep the Orpheus Theater going. These were the thoughts in my head as i decided to have Donna McDonald direct a show. She had co-run a theater on Lasqueti Island in Canada for a number of years. I thought i might step all the way back, and be just the producer. The show she chose was a Sam Shepard piece about a dysfunctional family (or am i being redundant?). Estrangement, incest, a baby buried in the backyard, fresh produce...this play had it all. For the role of Dodge, the patriarch, i got Joe Porter, a delightful life-long theater vet and semi-retired doctor. Joe had been in touch with me for a few months, and here was finally a great part for him. Donna found beach resident Carrie Hill to play Halie, the matriarch. Auditioner Tony Turiano was cast as the lost eldest son, Tilden. I got Michael Weeg for the part of Bradley, the crippled, angry son. Michael was the husband of Jennifer from sex, lies, and videotape. For Father Dewis, i called on my ODD COUPLE buddy, John Thomas. Amanda returned to play Shelly, girlfriend of the grandson, Vince. We had trouble casting Vince. Donna wanted me, and i said i'd do it if we didn't find someone else. For four or five days we searched, with Donna telling me to just do the part. But a part of me wanted to see how she operated before acting under her. Also, i didn't fancy playing Amanda's boyfriend, as my feelings for her had been pretty intense far too recently. Thankfully, Jim Hawley from SEXUAL PERVERSITY surfaced. I threw myself into producing, and only attended one or two rehearsals the first few weeks. It was an enjoyable break, wearing just the one hat. I attended most rehearsals the last two weeks, even running some that Donna couldn't make. I gave a fair bit of direction to a couple actors who wanted more than Donna was giving them. Tony Turiano called me the best producer he'd ever had. The cast chemistry was good, if not overly close. Tony was a recovering alcoholic, and came on a little strong for some. Amanda in particular felt that he was trying to get too close, a situation i did my best to defuse. Carrie was new to acting, but doing her best. She was good company. Joe and John were consummate pros, and Jim his usual puckish self. Michael and Amanda were very dedicated. Donna and i ran the show together, her out front, me backstage. Tony M. relayed to me how angry his family still was with me, and said that they wanted me to run the show from outside the restaurant, perhaps using a...get this...walkie-talkie. There was prop placement and cleanup to do backstage, plus set and actor dressing. It all came together well, and we played to good crowds. We finally were working on an actual stage, assembled by volunteer community member Peter. This meant several more heavy pieces to be lugged behind the restaurant after each show, which usually fell to Dwayne Ernst and myself. Dwayne was Donna's boyfriend, and for several shows that year, he did work that was well beyond the call of duty. He'd lived a hard life, and i was touched by how much he opened up to me. The prop i was most proud of was the baby skeleton. I'd tried to find one at schools and hospitals, but was told that there had been a ban on baby-skeleton construction. I found a doll, shaved her hair, cut eye, ear, nose, and jaw sections out, and painted it white. In the final scene, Tony carries the baby in, wrapped in cloth, and the effect was very disturbing to some. The most-imitated lines were Joe's, especially "Boo-koos!", "My rough rasp, my lathe…", and "Two bucks is two bucks. Don't sneer." Jim continued to ad-lib a bit in finding his particular brand of comedy (literally speaking out his ass at one point), but he did it well, so was given rein. He played a funny drunk, turning "Beasts from the deep!" into "Beans from the dip!" Michael's "Gimme back my leg!" was mimiced as well...his frustrated rage was both comic and frightening (and yes, we had an actual prosthetic leg, thanks to Dr. Joe). At one point, Amanda hurls a mug offstage, shattering it. I'm backstage to clean up, so the actors don't step on the pieces. I began to wonder what might happen if the cup didn't break, and i finally decided to wait closer to the crash point. The first night i did this (after weeks of successful crashes), the cup failed to break. I smashed it, but maybe not quickly enough, because Amanda felt there was a lag. I never waited that closely again, and it was never a problem again (i always wondered whether my mental energy had somehow created the failed crash). The most memorable moment came on closing night. Throughout the run, Jim had been leaning on a TV stand in one scene, and on the final night it collapsed. Joe and Jim proceeded to provide dead-on ad-libs. It was an incredibly dirty production, and not figuratively. Mud and shucked corn everywhere. The mayor came to see an Orpheus show for the first time, and had a great time, but i was so busy cleaning up that i barely met him, and got no credit for being the guy that started and ran this whole endeavor. Oh well. Donna favored a more choreographed curtain call than i, but i allowed myself to be called out on the final night. I enjoyed being just the producer more than i expected. In a way, it was like my first non-acting experience in college, and the unexpected pride i'd felt in acquiring that elusive diaphragm prop. Giving some control of expenses to Donna, the show became the most expensive we ever did, at $1200. I accepted a $300 investment from her, which i paid back by week two. It was a group and show to be proud of.
-spring 2001
I returned to the Orpheus. Why? A couple reasons. I believed in what we'd been trying to create, and had strong loyalty to Tony. In his besieged life, i wanted to energize his dream a bit longer. At the same time, i knew that an era had passed, and that my time at the Orpheus was ending. I knew i wouldn't be able to create the intense theater i was interested in, not there. But i wanted others to keep the Orpheus Theater going. These were the thoughts in my head as i decided to have Donna McDonald direct a show. She had co-run a theater on Lasqueti Island in Canada for a number of years. I thought i might step all the way back, and be just the producer. The show she chose was a Sam Shepard piece about a dysfunctional family (or am i being redundant?). Estrangement, incest, a baby buried in the backyard, fresh produce...this play had it all. For the role of Dodge, the patriarch, i got Joe Porter, a delightful life-long theater vet and semi-retired doctor. Joe had been in touch with me for a few months, and here was finally a great part for him. Donna found beach resident Carrie Hill to play Halie, the matriarch. Auditioner Tony Turiano was cast as the lost eldest son, Tilden. I got Michael Weeg for the part of Bradley, the crippled, angry son. Michael was the husband of Jennifer from sex, lies, and videotape. For Father Dewis, i called on my ODD COUPLE buddy, John Thomas. Amanda returned to play Shelly, girlfriend of the grandson, Vince. We had trouble casting Vince. Donna wanted me, and i said i'd do it if we didn't find someone else. For four or five days we searched, with Donna telling me to just do the part. But a part of me wanted to see how she operated before acting under her. Also, i didn't fancy playing Amanda's boyfriend, as my feelings for her had been pretty intense far too recently. Thankfully, Jim Hawley from SEXUAL PERVERSITY surfaced. I threw myself into producing, and only attended one or two rehearsals the first few weeks. It was an enjoyable break, wearing just the one hat. I attended most rehearsals the last two weeks, even running some that Donna couldn't make. I gave a fair bit of direction to a couple actors who wanted more than Donna was giving them. Tony Turiano called me the best producer he'd ever had. The cast chemistry was good, if not overly close. Tony was a recovering alcoholic, and came on a little strong for some. Amanda in particular felt that he was trying to get too close, a situation i did my best to defuse. Carrie was new to acting, but doing her best. She was good company. Joe and John were consummate pros, and Jim his usual puckish self. Michael and Amanda were very dedicated. Donna and i ran the show together, her out front, me backstage. Tony M. relayed to me how angry his family still was with me, and said that they wanted me to run the show from outside the restaurant, perhaps using a...get this...walkie-talkie. There was prop placement and cleanup to do backstage, plus set and actor dressing. It all came together well, and we played to good crowds. We finally were working on an actual stage, assembled by volunteer community member Peter. This meant several more heavy pieces to be lugged behind the restaurant after each show, which usually fell to Dwayne Ernst and myself. Dwayne was Donna's boyfriend, and for several shows that year, he did work that was well beyond the call of duty. He'd lived a hard life, and i was touched by how much he opened up to me. The prop i was most proud of was the baby skeleton. I'd tried to find one at schools and hospitals, but was told that there had been a ban on baby-skeleton construction. I found a doll, shaved her hair, cut eye, ear, nose, and jaw sections out, and painted it white. In the final scene, Tony carries the baby in, wrapped in cloth, and the effect was very disturbing to some. The most-imitated lines were Joe's, especially "Boo-koos!", "My rough rasp, my lathe…", and "Two bucks is two bucks. Don't sneer." Jim continued to ad-lib a bit in finding his particular brand of comedy (literally speaking out his ass at one point), but he did it well, so was given rein. He played a funny drunk, turning "Beasts from the deep!" into "Beans from the dip!" Michael's "Gimme back my leg!" was mimiced as well...his frustrated rage was both comic and frightening (and yes, we had an actual prosthetic leg, thanks to Dr. Joe). At one point, Amanda hurls a mug offstage, shattering it. I'm backstage to clean up, so the actors don't step on the pieces. I began to wonder what might happen if the cup didn't break, and i finally decided to wait closer to the crash point. The first night i did this (after weeks of successful crashes), the cup failed to break. I smashed it, but maybe not quickly enough, because Amanda felt there was a lag. I never waited that closely again, and it was never a problem again (i always wondered whether my mental energy had somehow created the failed crash). The most memorable moment came on closing night. Throughout the run, Jim had been leaning on a TV stand in one scene, and on the final night it collapsed. Joe and Jim proceeded to provide dead-on ad-libs. It was an incredibly dirty production, and not figuratively. Mud and shucked corn everywhere. The mayor came to see an Orpheus show for the first time, and had a great time, but i was so busy cleaning up that i barely met him, and got no credit for being the guy that started and ran this whole endeavor. Oh well. Donna favored a more choreographed curtain call than i, but i allowed myself to be called out on the final night. I enjoyed being just the producer more than i expected. In a way, it was like my first non-acting experience in college, and the unexpected pride i'd felt in acquiring that elusive diaphragm prop. Giving some control of expenses to Donna, the show became the most expensive we ever did, at $1200. I accepted a $300 investment from her, which i paid back by week two. It was a group and show to be proud of.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Galactica '03
BATTLESTAR GALACTICA
2003-2009
Creator Ronald Moore had a long history as a writer/producer for the TREK franchise, making his re-boot of the BSG franchise a bit like the burst of brilliance that was George Harrison's ALL THINGS MUST PASS. Not everything was as ground-breaking as it felt...the hand-held camera shots harken back to the "roll call" segment of HILL STREET BLUES. But the emotional/physical grittiness, moral ambiguity, and realistic space visuals were mostly new ground. All that, plus Edward James Olmos? Bloody brilliant. Both the classic and the reimagining had mystical mumbo jumbo. Why is it so much harder to stomach in the new incarnation? Because the classic was never so insistent on being taken seriously. The decline in excellence over the final seasons...was Moore trying to make the point that life itself hardly ever has a coherent narrative structure, and that real people act inconsistently? As for specifics, the teaser sequence was a time-wasting conceit that showed us things we didn't need to see. The dvds have some lovely deleted scenes, but the Moore commentaries are a bit boring (producer/writer/tech commentaries tend to be dry, and the fact that he's usually alone doesn't help). If i'm focusing on the negative, it's only a reflection of love...but ultimately, mysticism and writing flaws keep BSG from the greatness that was in its grasp. Debates about where it might have belonged in the pantheon of best shows ever are reduced to debating which is better, the new or the classic. Still in all, when it was great, it was like no sci fi ever.
SERIES EPISODE AVERAGE: 2.7
BY SEASON:
1) 3.0
2) 2.9
3) 2.4
4) 2.7
FOUR-STAR EPISODES (season)
-mini-series
-33 (1)
-You Can't Go Home Again (1)
-Scattered (2)
-Valley of Darkness (2)
-Pegasus (2)
-RAZOR
-Unfinished Business (3)
-Dirty Hands (3)
-The Ties that Bind (4)
-THE PLAN
2003-2009
Creator Ronald Moore had a long history as a writer/producer for the TREK franchise, making his re-boot of the BSG franchise a bit like the burst of brilliance that was George Harrison's ALL THINGS MUST PASS. Not everything was as ground-breaking as it felt...the hand-held camera shots harken back to the "roll call" segment of HILL STREET BLUES. But the emotional/physical grittiness, moral ambiguity, and realistic space visuals were mostly new ground. All that, plus Edward James Olmos? Bloody brilliant. Both the classic and the reimagining had mystical mumbo jumbo. Why is it so much harder to stomach in the new incarnation? Because the classic was never so insistent on being taken seriously. The decline in excellence over the final seasons...was Moore trying to make the point that life itself hardly ever has a coherent narrative structure, and that real people act inconsistently? As for specifics, the teaser sequence was a time-wasting conceit that showed us things we didn't need to see. The dvds have some lovely deleted scenes, but the Moore commentaries are a bit boring (producer/writer/tech commentaries tend to be dry, and the fact that he's usually alone doesn't help). If i'm focusing on the negative, it's only a reflection of love...but ultimately, mysticism and writing flaws keep BSG from the greatness that was in its grasp. Debates about where it might have belonged in the pantheon of best shows ever are reduced to debating which is better, the new or the classic. Still in all, when it was great, it was like no sci fi ever.
SERIES EPISODE AVERAGE: 2.7
BY SEASON:
1) 3.0
2) 2.9
3) 2.4
4) 2.7
FOUR-STAR EPISODES (season)
-mini-series
-33 (1)
-You Can't Go Home Again (1)
-Scattered (2)
-Valley of Darkness (2)
-Pegasus (2)
-RAZOR
-Unfinished Business (3)
-Dirty Hands (3)
-The Ties that Bind (4)
-THE PLAN
Galactica, season 4
FOUR-STAR EPISODES: 2
AVERAGE EPISODE RATING: 2.7
-He That Believeth in Me ***
Baltar's cult of nubile supplicants is a nice touch. The Starbuck resurrection teeters on the edge of falling flat, as does Lee's resignation as a pilot. She returns in a factory-showroom viper, looking pristine herself...am i the only one who thinks to check for her old surgery scars? Gripping action sequences. They dropped the ball in editing, taking out an Athena/Kara and a Kara/Anders scene that would have restored some coherence.
-Six of One ***
Why is a naked Boomer so much...fun? Tory cries when she has sex. Faked or not, it's the first time i've been glad to have her around. Laura's attempt to kill the Starbuck-ghost...why is no one else acting so sanely? Lee's military send-off feels overdone, and his farewell to Dee underdone. Boomer's breaking the cylon council deadlock feels contrived; it might have been more realistic to go against the 8s in the other direction. The beginnings of a cylon civil war are fantastic.
-The Ties That Bind ****
Galactica is back! Galactica is BACK!!! Or that's what i was saying to myself, as Cally walks the baby into the airlock. For most of season three, the show felt lost, but suddenly...i was shouting "No! No! NO! Yes! NO!!!". Cally had just found out that the father of her child is a cylon. Does she get sentimental and uncertain? Yup...then she clubs him insensate with a WRENCH! Thank you, Cal. There are more off moments than one might expect from a four-star episode, but Boomer snogging Dean Stockwell plus base star fleets tearing into one another, put this one over the top. Starbuck-ghost's Demetrius mission is tedious, but it's been a long time since you had me on the edge of my seat, BSG. Thank you. And can someone please order a cylon test on Laura and Cally, because their teeth look INHUMANLY WHITE this season?
-Escape Velocity ***
In a season in which the Chief finds out he's not human, he gives the most rawly human speech of anyone, on how life is about not ending up with the people we most want to be with. Olmos and Mary McDonnell could make an ingredient list great goddamned drama.
-The Road Less Traveled **
The Demetrius mission still holds no water, and the mystical babble back at the fleet threatens to swallow the show (again). There's a deleted Helo/Athena scene that ought not have been.
-Faith **
A gripping, albeit convoluted mutiny on the Demitrius! Nana Visitor! From DS9! A fine appearance (the only one ever by a TREK regular) swallowed up by a plot that can't quite hit the right notes. They find the remains of the cylon renegade fleet, with the 6s, Sharons, and Leobens who want to form an alliance with the humans. Anders has an unprecedented great moment, when he tries to slide his hand into the cylon water data stream, his true nature unknown to all.
-Guess What's Coming to Dinner **
Gaeta loses a leg, Apollo's on the Quorum...zzzzzzzzzzz. Perhaps the most innofensive two-star effort of the series, but are we to applaud a lack of anything patently wrong? The writers, time and again, put the characters in situations where their responses don't ring true. A nice 1.29-second appearance by Dee. Oh yeah, Athena kills 6, but i'm giving up the ghost, because i'm not entirely sure which 6 it is. If Athena can kill one character per episode, by the finale we'll be left with a buddy comedy starring her and her trusty centurion, entitled "Naked Boomer and Sparky Ride a Tandem Bike"...which, frankly, would be fine.
-Sine Qua Non **
Adama abandons his post to wait for Laura, and Lee agonizes over whom to pick as the replacement President. Let's bring lawyer Lampkin back. Why? No reason. What's your poison, a plotline that's contrived or foregone? When Romo threatens to kill Lee, we get both. Ah well, at least Caprica 6, in the brig, is pregnant. Um, hunh?
-The Hub **
Aaaaaah! Elosha's back! Nooooooooooooo! Faffing on a ferry of folderol. Adama and Laura finally declare their love...zzzzzzzz. Baltar is shot...will Laura save/kill him? Can she kill us instead? This one is so vapid, it's only by a miracle of high-octane action (in the form of a battle in which the cylon resurrection "hub" is destroyed) that it's saved from one-star land.
-Revelations **
Gonna be a standoff! They find Earth! Four of the five final cylons are outed (Tigh, Tory, Anders, and the Chief), and the renegade cylons threaten a nuke strike unless they are handed over. Adama is incapacitated with grief (?). Lee plays hardball as President. But everybody makes nice, and they all go to Earth. The fleet-wide scenes of joy and relief are one whopper of a masturbatory montage. Why is this turd a floater, not a sinker? The revelation that Earth is a nuclear wasteland. Damn right, Ronald Moore.
-Sometimes a Great Notion ***
Starbuck-ghost finds Starbuck's remains in a cockpit on Earth...zzzzzz. The two-thousand year old remains of the earthlings turn out to be...cylon! Never mind that they weren't invented before the current century. It's time to cowboy up, so...Adama gets weepy-wooey and suicidal. Roslin burns the scriptures ('bout fucking time!). What elevates this one is a huge helping of Dee-light. She and Apollo have a date. They kiss. She returns to her quarters, still glowing as she kills herself. *&^%ing *&^%ity *&^%ers! There had better be some high-level justification coming, or someone's getting a *&^%ing letter. The fifth cylon is the long-dead Ellen.
-A Disquiet Follows My Soul ***
An appropriate title for season four. Roslin can't face her job, nor her cancer treatments. The fleet is offered advanced FTL technology from the renegade cylons, in exchange for citizenship. The Chief finds out that Cally's baby wasn't his. An anti-cylon movement is founded by Zarek and Gaeta. An otherwise average episode is elevated by not even one hint of mumbo jumbo.
-The Oath ***
Early-season worthy. With Roslin in seclusion and Adama telling the Quorum to stick their reservations about a cylon alliance up their collective ass, full-scale mutiny erupts, spearheaded by Zarek and Gaeta. As much as i love our heroes, i might find myself on the anti-cylon side. Ex-Pegasus Chief Laird is murdered, and the body count is on. Gaeta takes over the CIC. Apollo and Starbuck-ghost fight side by side. Adama and Tigh are taken, then escape, then get grenaded. Nasty.
-Blood on the Scales ***
Adama is alive, and put through a kangaroo treason trial. Zarek massacres the Quorum. The mutiny fractures. Zarek and Gaeta are killed by firing squad.
-No Exit **
A stirring recap of the entire series mythology gets this one going, and Anders' brain death ends it (woo!). There's mumbo jumbo, and a curious drama between Cavil, Boomer, and Ellen. Adama reinstates the Chief, who tells him that cylon organic metal is the only thing that can save Galactica's bulwarks. Adama says never. Then yes.
-Deadlock **
Sigh. Put the Galactica-is-back vuvuzelas away. Boomer brings Ellen back to the fleet, who gets into pissyfights with the other cylons. Caprica 6 miscarries.
-Someone to Watch Over Me ***
This episode makes me almost care about Starbuck-ghost. More compelling is the reuniting of Boomer and the Chief. She had never stopped living in the image of their dream home, and he'd never let go of the greatest love of his life. A wonderful episode falls apart when he frees her, but passes on a chance to fly away with her. In order to escape, she pretends to be Athena. Helo interrupts her while she's dressing, offering a quickie. Not wanting to alarm him, she accepts. Athena, bound and gagged in a closet, views the fucking. It's upsetting, it's sexy, it's what BSG should be. Do NOT miss the deleted post-coital scene.
-Islanded in a Stream of Stars **
Baltar reveals that the original Starbuck is dead. Cavil's cylons swipe Hera. Adama gives the order to abandon the beyond-repair Galactica. It's not soporiphic, but praise doesn't get much feebler than that.
-Daybreak ***
A weary franchise gamely brings it home. Considering the mumbo jumbo, contrivance, and schizophrenia of the last two seasons, that's no tiny feat. Pre-holocaust flashbacks meld with Galactica's final mission, a rescue of Hera. You're never quite on the edge of your seat, but the visuals are great, they don't give in entirely to sentimentality, and it almost works. At the end, they destroy their fleet, to disperse onto a planet with pre-industrial humans (a pristine Earth of 2000 years ago, never mind that they'd already visited Earth as a nuclear wasteland). There's a great deleted Kara/Zack scene. They bring back Cally and Zack, but no Dee? Adama (dying Laura) and Lee (disappearing Starbuck-ghost) are both going to be alone, but say sayonara to each other anyway? Really? Okay, i guess.
-THE PLAN ****
It took a post-series movie to crystallize how the mysticism of the final seasons crippled this series. This is NOT my anti-divine bias having a tantrum because someone might have a differing point of view. This movie, about the handful of cylons living within the fleet, ironically brings back what BSG had lost: its humanity. They struggle with love, self-doubt, betrayal and a million other human conditions. When one of the series' main characters is a resurrected ghost, and people are pawns in some divine Hybrid revelation, you've dehumanized the affair. Humanity, in all its glory and stupidity, is restored. Not enough? It's also pulse-pounding, literally. The visuals are the most ambitious and awe-inspiring of any BSG, and the way the story interweaves with events and footage from the entire series, illuminating many of the more inscrutable moments, is meticulously stunning. In one way, it even tops BSG's best: for all the previous grittiness, we never before saw literal human nakedness. It also benefits from a pounding, darker version of the theme music, which had long since become faintly annoying due to its resemblance to a rather unfortunate Sting song. The actions of the cylons, who never could have imagined they'd be trapped within a human fleet, are given depth and resonance. Cavil is megalomaniacally relentless...Boomer's conflict shines...a Simon commits suicide over his love for his human wife...and more. Edward James Olmos directed, giving BSG the finale it richly deserved.
AVERAGE EPISODE RATING: 2.7
-He That Believeth in Me ***
Baltar's cult of nubile supplicants is a nice touch. The Starbuck resurrection teeters on the edge of falling flat, as does Lee's resignation as a pilot. She returns in a factory-showroom viper, looking pristine herself...am i the only one who thinks to check for her old surgery scars? Gripping action sequences. They dropped the ball in editing, taking out an Athena/Kara and a Kara/Anders scene that would have restored some coherence.
-Six of One ***
Why is a naked Boomer so much...fun? Tory cries when she has sex. Faked or not, it's the first time i've been glad to have her around. Laura's attempt to kill the Starbuck-ghost...why is no one else acting so sanely? Lee's military send-off feels overdone, and his farewell to Dee underdone. Boomer's breaking the cylon council deadlock feels contrived; it might have been more realistic to go against the 8s in the other direction. The beginnings of a cylon civil war are fantastic.
-The Ties That Bind ****
Galactica is back! Galactica is BACK!!! Or that's what i was saying to myself, as Cally walks the baby into the airlock. For most of season three, the show felt lost, but suddenly...i was shouting "No! No! NO! Yes! NO!!!". Cally had just found out that the father of her child is a cylon. Does she get sentimental and uncertain? Yup...then she clubs him insensate with a WRENCH! Thank you, Cal. There are more off moments than one might expect from a four-star episode, but Boomer snogging Dean Stockwell plus base star fleets tearing into one another, put this one over the top. Starbuck-ghost's Demetrius mission is tedious, but it's been a long time since you had me on the edge of my seat, BSG. Thank you. And can someone please order a cylon test on Laura and Cally, because their teeth look INHUMANLY WHITE this season?
-Escape Velocity ***
In a season in which the Chief finds out he's not human, he gives the most rawly human speech of anyone, on how life is about not ending up with the people we most want to be with. Olmos and Mary McDonnell could make an ingredient list great goddamned drama.
-The Road Less Traveled **
The Demetrius mission still holds no water, and the mystical babble back at the fleet threatens to swallow the show (again). There's a deleted Helo/Athena scene that ought not have been.
-Faith **
A gripping, albeit convoluted mutiny on the Demitrius! Nana Visitor! From DS9! A fine appearance (the only one ever by a TREK regular) swallowed up by a plot that can't quite hit the right notes. They find the remains of the cylon renegade fleet, with the 6s, Sharons, and Leobens who want to form an alliance with the humans. Anders has an unprecedented great moment, when he tries to slide his hand into the cylon water data stream, his true nature unknown to all.
-Guess What's Coming to Dinner **
Gaeta loses a leg, Apollo's on the Quorum...zzzzzzzzzzz. Perhaps the most innofensive two-star effort of the series, but are we to applaud a lack of anything patently wrong? The writers, time and again, put the characters in situations where their responses don't ring true. A nice 1.29-second appearance by Dee. Oh yeah, Athena kills 6, but i'm giving up the ghost, because i'm not entirely sure which 6 it is. If Athena can kill one character per episode, by the finale we'll be left with a buddy comedy starring her and her trusty centurion, entitled "Naked Boomer and Sparky Ride a Tandem Bike"...which, frankly, would be fine.
-Sine Qua Non **
Adama abandons his post to wait for Laura, and Lee agonizes over whom to pick as the replacement President. Let's bring lawyer Lampkin back. Why? No reason. What's your poison, a plotline that's contrived or foregone? When Romo threatens to kill Lee, we get both. Ah well, at least Caprica 6, in the brig, is pregnant. Um, hunh?
-The Hub **
Aaaaaah! Elosha's back! Nooooooooooooo! Faffing on a ferry of folderol. Adama and Laura finally declare their love...zzzzzzzz. Baltar is shot...will Laura save/kill him? Can she kill us instead? This one is so vapid, it's only by a miracle of high-octane action (in the form of a battle in which the cylon resurrection "hub" is destroyed) that it's saved from one-star land.
-Revelations **
Gonna be a standoff! They find Earth! Four of the five final cylons are outed (Tigh, Tory, Anders, and the Chief), and the renegade cylons threaten a nuke strike unless they are handed over. Adama is incapacitated with grief (?). Lee plays hardball as President. But everybody makes nice, and they all go to Earth. The fleet-wide scenes of joy and relief are one whopper of a masturbatory montage. Why is this turd a floater, not a sinker? The revelation that Earth is a nuclear wasteland. Damn right, Ronald Moore.
-Sometimes a Great Notion ***
Starbuck-ghost finds Starbuck's remains in a cockpit on Earth...zzzzzz. The two-thousand year old remains of the earthlings turn out to be...cylon! Never mind that they weren't invented before the current century. It's time to cowboy up, so...Adama gets weepy-wooey and suicidal. Roslin burns the scriptures ('bout fucking time!). What elevates this one is a huge helping of Dee-light. She and Apollo have a date. They kiss. She returns to her quarters, still glowing as she kills herself. *&^%ing *&^%ity *&^%ers! There had better be some high-level justification coming, or someone's getting a *&^%ing letter. The fifth cylon is the long-dead Ellen.
-A Disquiet Follows My Soul ***
An appropriate title for season four. Roslin can't face her job, nor her cancer treatments. The fleet is offered advanced FTL technology from the renegade cylons, in exchange for citizenship. The Chief finds out that Cally's baby wasn't his. An anti-cylon movement is founded by Zarek and Gaeta. An otherwise average episode is elevated by not even one hint of mumbo jumbo.
-The Oath ***
Early-season worthy. With Roslin in seclusion and Adama telling the Quorum to stick their reservations about a cylon alliance up their collective ass, full-scale mutiny erupts, spearheaded by Zarek and Gaeta. As much as i love our heroes, i might find myself on the anti-cylon side. Ex-Pegasus Chief Laird is murdered, and the body count is on. Gaeta takes over the CIC. Apollo and Starbuck-ghost fight side by side. Adama and Tigh are taken, then escape, then get grenaded. Nasty.
-Blood on the Scales ***
Adama is alive, and put through a kangaroo treason trial. Zarek massacres the Quorum. The mutiny fractures. Zarek and Gaeta are killed by firing squad.
-No Exit **
A stirring recap of the entire series mythology gets this one going, and Anders' brain death ends it (woo!). There's mumbo jumbo, and a curious drama between Cavil, Boomer, and Ellen. Adama reinstates the Chief, who tells him that cylon organic metal is the only thing that can save Galactica's bulwarks. Adama says never. Then yes.
-Deadlock **
Sigh. Put the Galactica-is-back vuvuzelas away. Boomer brings Ellen back to the fleet, who gets into pissyfights with the other cylons. Caprica 6 miscarries.
-Someone to Watch Over Me ***
This episode makes me almost care about Starbuck-ghost. More compelling is the reuniting of Boomer and the Chief. She had never stopped living in the image of their dream home, and he'd never let go of the greatest love of his life. A wonderful episode falls apart when he frees her, but passes on a chance to fly away with her. In order to escape, she pretends to be Athena. Helo interrupts her while she's dressing, offering a quickie. Not wanting to alarm him, she accepts. Athena, bound and gagged in a closet, views the fucking. It's upsetting, it's sexy, it's what BSG should be. Do NOT miss the deleted post-coital scene.
-Islanded in a Stream of Stars **
Baltar reveals that the original Starbuck is dead. Cavil's cylons swipe Hera. Adama gives the order to abandon the beyond-repair Galactica. It's not soporiphic, but praise doesn't get much feebler than that.
-Daybreak ***
A weary franchise gamely brings it home. Considering the mumbo jumbo, contrivance, and schizophrenia of the last two seasons, that's no tiny feat. Pre-holocaust flashbacks meld with Galactica's final mission, a rescue of Hera. You're never quite on the edge of your seat, but the visuals are great, they don't give in entirely to sentimentality, and it almost works. At the end, they destroy their fleet, to disperse onto a planet with pre-industrial humans (a pristine Earth of 2000 years ago, never mind that they'd already visited Earth as a nuclear wasteland). There's a great deleted Kara/Zack scene. They bring back Cally and Zack, but no Dee? Adama (dying Laura) and Lee (disappearing Starbuck-ghost) are both going to be alone, but say sayonara to each other anyway? Really? Okay, i guess.
-THE PLAN ****
It took a post-series movie to crystallize how the mysticism of the final seasons crippled this series. This is NOT my anti-divine bias having a tantrum because someone might have a differing point of view. This movie, about the handful of cylons living within the fleet, ironically brings back what BSG had lost: its humanity. They struggle with love, self-doubt, betrayal and a million other human conditions. When one of the series' main characters is a resurrected ghost, and people are pawns in some divine Hybrid revelation, you've dehumanized the affair. Humanity, in all its glory and stupidity, is restored. Not enough? It's also pulse-pounding, literally. The visuals are the most ambitious and awe-inspiring of any BSG, and the way the story interweaves with events and footage from the entire series, illuminating many of the more inscrutable moments, is meticulously stunning. In one way, it even tops BSG's best: for all the previous grittiness, we never before saw literal human nakedness. It also benefits from a pounding, darker version of the theme music, which had long since become faintly annoying due to its resemblance to a rather unfortunate Sting song. The actions of the cylons, who never could have imagined they'd be trapped within a human fleet, are given depth and resonance. Cavil is megalomaniacally relentless...Boomer's conflict shines...a Simon commits suicide over his love for his human wife...and more. Edward James Olmos directed, giving BSG the finale it richly deserved.
Galactica, season 3
FOUR-STAR EPISODES: 2
AVERAGE EPISODE RATING: 2.4
-Occupation **
On New Caprica, Starbuck and Anders are married, and she's been in detention isolation since the cylons arrived. Leoben tries to get her to love him, and brings her a baby he says is hers. Gaeta is Baltar's aide, funneling information to the resistance led by the Chief, Anders, and Tigh. Cally and the Chief are married with a baby. Ellen has sex with a Cavil to get Tigh out of prison, where he's lost an eye. On Pegasus, Apollo is married and fat. Adama plans a rescue, using Sharon (now married to Helo) to penetrate the cylon defenses. He reinstates her rank, which i have a hard time buying. It's also irksome to have been denied seeing the Chief/Cally romance come to fruition.
-The Resistance **
Webisodes that nicely flesh out the story, centering on Duck and Jammer.
-Precipice **
Suicide bombings prompt the cylons to arrange a mass execution of political detainees, including Zarek and Roslin.
-Exodus ***
Heavy on religious babble. The detainees are saved. Zarek and Roslin have a fun moment of rapprochement. Apollo thinks the rescue mission is doomed, and urges Adama to continue on to Earth. Adama orders Apollo to continue on with the Pegasus, as he mounts the rescue alone. Tigh kills Ellen for collaborating. Galactica attacks four base stars, and is about to be destroyed, when Pegasus jumps in. It takes out two base stars, before being destroyed. Galactica rescues the civilians. So ends Lee's first command. Fantastic visuals.
-Collaborators ***
A secret tribunal (with Tigh and the Chief) executes accused collaborators. Baltar faces a similar trial with the cylons, but is spared. Anders quits the tribunal, replaced by Starbuck. Gaeta is tried, and refuses to beg. Laura is re-elected. Any Gaeta-heavy episode is neato-keen.
-Torn **
Great googily, a naked Boomer doing tai chi. An adrift base star is found, victim of a virus. Tigh and Starbuck foment a rift between those who lived through the occupation and those who didn't. Adama disowns Starbuck, and relieves Tigh of duty. Sharon is given the call sign "Athena".
-A Measure of Salvation **
Apollo devises a plan to download the fatal cylon virus into the entire race. The attack is sabotaged by Helo. The emotional impact of humanity having a chance to eliminate the cylons, is glossed over. One of the deleted scenes gives that idea the weight it deserves. I have trouble with Sharon's actions. Imagine Helo joining her with the cylons...reverse the roles, then posit a storyline in which he's complicit in the extermination of humanity. It just doesn't sit right. Aren't her actions as heinous as Baltar's? The original one, no less?
-Hero ***
Great googily, a threesome between 6, Baltar, and D'eanna. One of Adama's pilots, captured by cylons three years ago, returns in a stolen raider. Flashbacks to Adama commanding the battlestar Valkyrie. Questions arise about his role in starting the war.
-Unfinished Business ****
Stellar. Some of the tightest, brightest one-liners of the series. Grudge boxing matches are held aboard Galactica, to help the crew let off steam. Rank is dropped. Apollo fights Helo, Adama fights the Chief. Apollo and Starbuck are both in unhappy marriages. Amid flashbacks to a fling they had on New Caprica, the tension between them ends up in the ring.
-The Passage ***
Continuing the show's unflinching manner of killing off beloved supporting characters, Kat dies. An Adama/Tigh scene has the best laughter of the series.
-The Eye of Jupiter **
Amid mumbo jumbo, there's a standoff above a planet with a temple that points the way to Earth. The cylons offer Baltar as a bargaining chip.
-Rapture **
The standoff continues. Is Baltar a cylon? Is the Chief? Does anyone care?
-Taking a Break From All Your Worries **
Baltar is interrogated, and attempts suicide. Apollo and Starbuck continue to moon over each other. Now she's the one willing to leave her marriage. Apollo, i'm not a violent person, but you make me imagine Dee's family kicking the crapola out of you. Starbuck's not worthy of you, you're not worthy of Dee...
-The Woman King **
Despite a fine turn from guest star Bruce Davison, this one's foregone and conventional.
-A Day in the Life ***
Cally and the Chief are trapped in a decompressing bay. The rescue is edge-of-your-seat time.
-Dirty Hands ****
There's not one single thing flashy or sexy about this episode, which cannot be said about any other four-star entry. This is about people doing dirty jobs, in brutal conditions. It's about class struggle, and human rights. When people talked about this being not just the best sci fi on TV, but the best show, this is what they were talking about. You become nervous that the episode won't resolve without some Hollywood ending. They don't avoid it entirely, but close enough.
-Maelstrom *
The plunge into religious twaddle is no longer a minor plot point, it's the entire masturbatory focus. Don't watch if you A) care about this show, or B) have a weak stomach. It actually made me not care that Starbuck dies.
-The Son Also Rises **
Baltar's trial begins, with Lee on the defense team. Overall a lack of deftness in the writing, a recurring problem. The Adama/Lee conflict feels contrived.
-Crossroads **
The trial continues. The usually brilliant Rymer can't help this'n, but the cliffhanger gets the heart pumping. The conclusion of Baltar's trial is Jamie Bamber's greatest moment of the series.
AVERAGE EPISODE RATING: 2.4
-Occupation **
On New Caprica, Starbuck and Anders are married, and she's been in detention isolation since the cylons arrived. Leoben tries to get her to love him, and brings her a baby he says is hers. Gaeta is Baltar's aide, funneling information to the resistance led by the Chief, Anders, and Tigh. Cally and the Chief are married with a baby. Ellen has sex with a Cavil to get Tigh out of prison, where he's lost an eye. On Pegasus, Apollo is married and fat. Adama plans a rescue, using Sharon (now married to Helo) to penetrate the cylon defenses. He reinstates her rank, which i have a hard time buying. It's also irksome to have been denied seeing the Chief/Cally romance come to fruition.
-The Resistance **
Webisodes that nicely flesh out the story, centering on Duck and Jammer.
-Precipice **
Suicide bombings prompt the cylons to arrange a mass execution of political detainees, including Zarek and Roslin.
-Exodus ***
Heavy on religious babble. The detainees are saved. Zarek and Roslin have a fun moment of rapprochement. Apollo thinks the rescue mission is doomed, and urges Adama to continue on to Earth. Adama orders Apollo to continue on with the Pegasus, as he mounts the rescue alone. Tigh kills Ellen for collaborating. Galactica attacks four base stars, and is about to be destroyed, when Pegasus jumps in. It takes out two base stars, before being destroyed. Galactica rescues the civilians. So ends Lee's first command. Fantastic visuals.
-Collaborators ***
A secret tribunal (with Tigh and the Chief) executes accused collaborators. Baltar faces a similar trial with the cylons, but is spared. Anders quits the tribunal, replaced by Starbuck. Gaeta is tried, and refuses to beg. Laura is re-elected. Any Gaeta-heavy episode is neato-keen.
-Torn **
Great googily, a naked Boomer doing tai chi. An adrift base star is found, victim of a virus. Tigh and Starbuck foment a rift between those who lived through the occupation and those who didn't. Adama disowns Starbuck, and relieves Tigh of duty. Sharon is given the call sign "Athena".
-A Measure of Salvation **
Apollo devises a plan to download the fatal cylon virus into the entire race. The attack is sabotaged by Helo. The emotional impact of humanity having a chance to eliminate the cylons, is glossed over. One of the deleted scenes gives that idea the weight it deserves. I have trouble with Sharon's actions. Imagine Helo joining her with the cylons...reverse the roles, then posit a storyline in which he's complicit in the extermination of humanity. It just doesn't sit right. Aren't her actions as heinous as Baltar's? The original one, no less?
-Hero ***
Great googily, a threesome between 6, Baltar, and D'eanna. One of Adama's pilots, captured by cylons three years ago, returns in a stolen raider. Flashbacks to Adama commanding the battlestar Valkyrie. Questions arise about his role in starting the war.
-Unfinished Business ****
Stellar. Some of the tightest, brightest one-liners of the series. Grudge boxing matches are held aboard Galactica, to help the crew let off steam. Rank is dropped. Apollo fights Helo, Adama fights the Chief. Apollo and Starbuck are both in unhappy marriages. Amid flashbacks to a fling they had on New Caprica, the tension between them ends up in the ring.
-The Passage ***
Continuing the show's unflinching manner of killing off beloved supporting characters, Kat dies. An Adama/Tigh scene has the best laughter of the series.
-The Eye of Jupiter **
Amid mumbo jumbo, there's a standoff above a planet with a temple that points the way to Earth. The cylons offer Baltar as a bargaining chip.
-Rapture **
The standoff continues. Is Baltar a cylon? Is the Chief? Does anyone care?
-Taking a Break From All Your Worries **
Baltar is interrogated, and attempts suicide. Apollo and Starbuck continue to moon over each other. Now she's the one willing to leave her marriage. Apollo, i'm not a violent person, but you make me imagine Dee's family kicking the crapola out of you. Starbuck's not worthy of you, you're not worthy of Dee...
-The Woman King **
Despite a fine turn from guest star Bruce Davison, this one's foregone and conventional.
-A Day in the Life ***
Cally and the Chief are trapped in a decompressing bay. The rescue is edge-of-your-seat time.
-Dirty Hands ****
There's not one single thing flashy or sexy about this episode, which cannot be said about any other four-star entry. This is about people doing dirty jobs, in brutal conditions. It's about class struggle, and human rights. When people talked about this being not just the best sci fi on TV, but the best show, this is what they were talking about. You become nervous that the episode won't resolve without some Hollywood ending. They don't avoid it entirely, but close enough.
-Maelstrom *
The plunge into religious twaddle is no longer a minor plot point, it's the entire masturbatory focus. Don't watch if you A) care about this show, or B) have a weak stomach. It actually made me not care that Starbuck dies.
-The Son Also Rises **
Baltar's trial begins, with Lee on the defense team. Overall a lack of deftness in the writing, a recurring problem. The Adama/Lee conflict feels contrived.
-Crossroads **
The trial continues. The usually brilliant Rymer can't help this'n, but the cliffhanger gets the heart pumping. The conclusion of Baltar's trial is Jamie Bamber's greatest moment of the series.
Galactica, season 2
FOUR-STAR EPISODES: 4
AVERAGE EPISODE RATING: 2.9
-Scattered ****
Adama is dying, and Galactica loses the fleet (along with Doc Cottle). Apollo and Roslin are in the brig for treason, while Tigh declares martial law. On Caprica, Helo tells Starbuck that he's in love with a cylon. In a burst of sanity, Starbuck shoots at Sharon. Can Gaeta save the day? Yes, but it requires facing a cylon fleet while vital information gets downloaded.
-Valley of Darkness ****
Galactica is plunged into darkness by a cylon virus and boarded by centurions, who decimate all opposition in their attempt to vent the oxygen from the ship. Can Tigh hold it together? Can Apollo get his team to aft damage control? Blistering. Nobody directs like Michael Rymer.
-Fragged ***
Tigh struggles with leadership of the fleet, and Crashdown struggles as the leader of the downed survivors on Kobol.
-Resistance ***
Tigh loses his grip on the fleet. Cally kills Boomer. Civilians are killed by security forces, and Lee plots a prison break for Roslin. A resistance movement is found on Caprica. Doc Cottle gets the great lines.
-The Farm **
Starbuck is shot on Caprica, and wakes up in a resistance hospital...or is it, and why does she have a scar on her abdomen? We meet new Cylon Simon (Rick Worthy, the only BSG/ENTERPRISE crossover, unless one counts crewman Hoshi).
-Home ***
One third of the fleet defects with Roslin, to go back to Kobol. Starbuck, Helo, and Boomer#2 return to the fleet. Dee (Kandyse McClure) gives Adama a piece of her mind. Elosha steps on a mine (yay!). The episode we've been waiting for, in the Baltar/6 storyline. She appears as a de-glamorized version of herself (looking more attractive than ever), and tells him his visions are a symptom of psychosis. Adama embraces forgiveness, and rushes to Kobol to find Roslin and Apollo's team.
-Final Cut ***
A muckraking journalist gets permission to do an all-access documentary on Galactica. The journalist happens to be Lucy Lawless (Zena!), and she happens to be a cylon. An episode that teeters on the edge of mediocrity, but at the end, when the classic BSG theme plays over Lucy's summation voice-over, you're misty-eyed and satisfied.
-Flight of the Phoenix ***
The Chief combats the crew's malaise by designing and building a stealth fighter. We love ya, Chief.
-Pegasus ****
FANfanfanfan-tastic. Another surviving battlestar is discovered, led by the legendary Admiral Cain (Michelle Forbes, TREK's Ro). The ultimate BSG marathon would be this'n, and the classic "The Living Legend". Joy sours, as she outranks Adama and begins mixing the crews, sending Apollo and Starbuck to Pegasus. Pegasus' interrogators get their hands on Sharon. Helo and the Chief rush to her, as she is being raped. They accidentally kill the interrogator, and are sentenced to die on Pegasus. Adama orders an armed rescue.
-Resurrection Ship ***
Roslin negotiates a truce between the commanders. The discovery of a cylon resurrection ship, which allows dead cylons to download into new bodies, unites Cain and Adama into a strike plan. Cain makes Starbuck the Pegasus CAG. It's discovered that Cain murdered a disobedient X.O., and ordered civilian ships plundered and abandoned. Convinced that Cain will kill Adama, Roslin urges him to kill her first. As Cain plots Adama's murder, he tells Starbuck she must kill Cain. The attack is a success. Cain and Adama abort their mutual assassination plans. Baltar frees the Pegasus cylon prisoner, a 6 who had been brutalized into a catatonic state. She kills Cain. Roslin promotes Adama to admiral. Forbes, you were wonderful.
-Epiphanies **
Dying of cancer, Roslin orders the abortion of Sharon's baby. Helo is the father, defiantly in love with Sharon. Spurred by his visions of 6, Baltar discovers a way to keep the baby alive using the fetal blood to save the President.
-Black Market **
Apollo tracks down the black market traders who murdered the new Pegasus commander. He has an affair with a prostitute with a child, who reminds him of a woman he once impregnated and abandoned. This overly conventional episode is the first time they dropped the ball in the editing room, deleting two scenes that would have improved things considerably, one of which captures the budding Apollo/Dee romance.
-Scar ***
The resurrection ship destroyed, the cylons resort to hit and run attacks. Colonial pilot losses mount. Starbuck and Kat vow to be the first to destroy the most deadly raider, called Scar. Starbuck is off-balance at having left resistance fighter Anders behind on Caprica. She plunges into drink, almost has reckless sex with Apollo, and loses her top gun billing.
-Sacrifice **
Roslin's aide, Billy (Paul Campbell), whom Laura saw becoming President, has had an on-again, off-again romance with Dee. He proposes to her, and she refuses. He finds her on a date with Lee, when the bar they're in is taken by terrorists. Their leader (Dana Delaney) demands the immediate execution of Sharon. The rescue operation is bungled, Apollo shot by Starbuck. Billy, trying to impress Dee, is killed. Not even Apollo is worthy of Dee, but we forgave you, Billy, and didn't want you to die.
-The Captain's Hand ***
The Pegasus' new commander is Garner (the excellent John Heard), promoted from the engine room. Two raptors are lost on a training mission, and he jumps the Pegasus to rescue them. It's a trap, and he puts Lee in command as he repairs the jump drive. He's successful, but asphyxiates. Adama promotes Apollo to commander. Roslin, a lifelong defender of abortion, is forced by depopulation to make it illegal.
-RAZOR ****
The tale of Lee's first mission as Pegasus commander. Fantastic. With no less than five flashback subplots, it's amazing that it stays coherent. We see Adama as a young warrior, footage of the cylon attack on the fleet, and the darker aspects of Cain's command. The impetus behind this two-hour special was no doubt to make more use of the wonderful Michelle Forbes. It's told from the perspective of Lt. Kendra Shaw, former protege to Cain, whom Lee taps to be his X.O. The ending is the tiniest bit drawn-out and contrived, but that's forgiveable...as if all else weren't enough, there's an attack by classic raiders and centurions. Bloody fantastic.
-Downloaded **
A curious detour into the cylon world. Boomer and Caprica 6 are downloaded into new bodies, and meet on Caprica. Both are having trouble re-assimilating. 6 has a vision of Baltar in her head, talking to her! He's very composed. The first cylon-on-cylon homicide.
-Lay Down Your Burdens **
Baltar runs for President. Behind in the polls, he surges ahead when campaign manager Zarek suggests he make his platform the settlement of the fleet on a planet inside a nebula. Starbuck leads a resistance rescue operation to Caprica. The Chief has nightmares, and maims Cally when she tries to wake him. He gets counseling from an unconventional priest, Cavil (Dean Stockwell!)...a cylon! Roslin fixes the election, but is talked out of it by Adama. Baltar becomes President! The fleet settles on New Caprica. Suddenly it's a year later, and the planet is occupied by the cylons. The fleet, with skeleton crews, has jumped away. The producers took a huge leap with this one, but it doesn't hit on all cylinders.
AVERAGE EPISODE RATING: 2.9
-Scattered ****
Adama is dying, and Galactica loses the fleet (along with Doc Cottle). Apollo and Roslin are in the brig for treason, while Tigh declares martial law. On Caprica, Helo tells Starbuck that he's in love with a cylon. In a burst of sanity, Starbuck shoots at Sharon. Can Gaeta save the day? Yes, but it requires facing a cylon fleet while vital information gets downloaded.
-Valley of Darkness ****
Galactica is plunged into darkness by a cylon virus and boarded by centurions, who decimate all opposition in their attempt to vent the oxygen from the ship. Can Tigh hold it together? Can Apollo get his team to aft damage control? Blistering. Nobody directs like Michael Rymer.
-Fragged ***
Tigh struggles with leadership of the fleet, and Crashdown struggles as the leader of the downed survivors on Kobol.
-Resistance ***
Tigh loses his grip on the fleet. Cally kills Boomer. Civilians are killed by security forces, and Lee plots a prison break for Roslin. A resistance movement is found on Caprica. Doc Cottle gets the great lines.
-The Farm **
Starbuck is shot on Caprica, and wakes up in a resistance hospital...or is it, and why does she have a scar on her abdomen? We meet new Cylon Simon (Rick Worthy, the only BSG/ENTERPRISE crossover, unless one counts crewman Hoshi).
-Home ***
One third of the fleet defects with Roslin, to go back to Kobol. Starbuck, Helo, and Boomer#2 return to the fleet. Dee (Kandyse McClure) gives Adama a piece of her mind. Elosha steps on a mine (yay!). The episode we've been waiting for, in the Baltar/6 storyline. She appears as a de-glamorized version of herself (looking more attractive than ever), and tells him his visions are a symptom of psychosis. Adama embraces forgiveness, and rushes to Kobol to find Roslin and Apollo's team.
-Final Cut ***
A muckraking journalist gets permission to do an all-access documentary on Galactica. The journalist happens to be Lucy Lawless (Zena!), and she happens to be a cylon. An episode that teeters on the edge of mediocrity, but at the end, when the classic BSG theme plays over Lucy's summation voice-over, you're misty-eyed and satisfied.
-Flight of the Phoenix ***
The Chief combats the crew's malaise by designing and building a stealth fighter. We love ya, Chief.
-Pegasus ****
FANfanfanfan-tastic. Another surviving battlestar is discovered, led by the legendary Admiral Cain (Michelle Forbes, TREK's Ro). The ultimate BSG marathon would be this'n, and the classic "The Living Legend". Joy sours, as she outranks Adama and begins mixing the crews, sending Apollo and Starbuck to Pegasus. Pegasus' interrogators get their hands on Sharon. Helo and the Chief rush to her, as she is being raped. They accidentally kill the interrogator, and are sentenced to die on Pegasus. Adama orders an armed rescue.
-Resurrection Ship ***
Roslin negotiates a truce between the commanders. The discovery of a cylon resurrection ship, which allows dead cylons to download into new bodies, unites Cain and Adama into a strike plan. Cain makes Starbuck the Pegasus CAG. It's discovered that Cain murdered a disobedient X.O., and ordered civilian ships plundered and abandoned. Convinced that Cain will kill Adama, Roslin urges him to kill her first. As Cain plots Adama's murder, he tells Starbuck she must kill Cain. The attack is a success. Cain and Adama abort their mutual assassination plans. Baltar frees the Pegasus cylon prisoner, a 6 who had been brutalized into a catatonic state. She kills Cain. Roslin promotes Adama to admiral. Forbes, you were wonderful.
-Epiphanies **
Dying of cancer, Roslin orders the abortion of Sharon's baby. Helo is the father, defiantly in love with Sharon. Spurred by his visions of 6, Baltar discovers a way to keep the baby alive using the fetal blood to save the President.
-Black Market **
Apollo tracks down the black market traders who murdered the new Pegasus commander. He has an affair with a prostitute with a child, who reminds him of a woman he once impregnated and abandoned. This overly conventional episode is the first time they dropped the ball in the editing room, deleting two scenes that would have improved things considerably, one of which captures the budding Apollo/Dee romance.
-Scar ***
The resurrection ship destroyed, the cylons resort to hit and run attacks. Colonial pilot losses mount. Starbuck and Kat vow to be the first to destroy the most deadly raider, called Scar. Starbuck is off-balance at having left resistance fighter Anders behind on Caprica. She plunges into drink, almost has reckless sex with Apollo, and loses her top gun billing.
-Sacrifice **
Roslin's aide, Billy (Paul Campbell), whom Laura saw becoming President, has had an on-again, off-again romance with Dee. He proposes to her, and she refuses. He finds her on a date with Lee, when the bar they're in is taken by terrorists. Their leader (Dana Delaney) demands the immediate execution of Sharon. The rescue operation is bungled, Apollo shot by Starbuck. Billy, trying to impress Dee, is killed. Not even Apollo is worthy of Dee, but we forgave you, Billy, and didn't want you to die.
-The Captain's Hand ***
The Pegasus' new commander is Garner (the excellent John Heard), promoted from the engine room. Two raptors are lost on a training mission, and he jumps the Pegasus to rescue them. It's a trap, and he puts Lee in command as he repairs the jump drive. He's successful, but asphyxiates. Adama promotes Apollo to commander. Roslin, a lifelong defender of abortion, is forced by depopulation to make it illegal.
-RAZOR ****
The tale of Lee's first mission as Pegasus commander. Fantastic. With no less than five flashback subplots, it's amazing that it stays coherent. We see Adama as a young warrior, footage of the cylon attack on the fleet, and the darker aspects of Cain's command. The impetus behind this two-hour special was no doubt to make more use of the wonderful Michelle Forbes. It's told from the perspective of Lt. Kendra Shaw, former protege to Cain, whom Lee taps to be his X.O. The ending is the tiniest bit drawn-out and contrived, but that's forgiveable...as if all else weren't enough, there's an attack by classic raiders and centurions. Bloody fantastic.
-Downloaded **
A curious detour into the cylon world. Boomer and Caprica 6 are downloaded into new bodies, and meet on Caprica. Both are having trouble re-assimilating. 6 has a vision of Baltar in her head, talking to her! He's very composed. The first cylon-on-cylon homicide.
-Lay Down Your Burdens **
Baltar runs for President. Behind in the polls, he surges ahead when campaign manager Zarek suggests he make his platform the settlement of the fleet on a planet inside a nebula. Starbuck leads a resistance rescue operation to Caprica. The Chief has nightmares, and maims Cally when she tries to wake him. He gets counseling from an unconventional priest, Cavil (Dean Stockwell!)...a cylon! Roslin fixes the election, but is talked out of it by Adama. Baltar becomes President! The fleet settles on New Caprica. Suddenly it's a year later, and the planet is occupied by the cylons. The fleet, with skeleton crews, has jumped away. The producers took a huge leap with this one, but it doesn't hit on all cylinders.
Friday, December 9, 2011
The Time Tunnel
THE TIME TUNNEL
1966
I tried to love this series, i really did.
The shortest-lived of Irwin Allen's shows (LOST IN SPACE, VOYAGE TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA). Set in 1968, it stars Robert Colbert (AMAZON WOMEN ON THE MOON) and James Darren (T.J. HOOKER, DEEP SPACE NINE) as time-traveling scientists who have lost control over when or where they'll land. The performances are charming, and the show's a visual delight. The network wanted to cut the season 2 budget, so Irwin called it quits. Some have called Allen's work the triumph of style over substance, and that about nails it. No one on the writing staff was advanced enough to embrace the notion that TV situations and characters could or should be realistic. It's worth watching for hard-core sci fi fans, and an episode or two might be fun at one a' them rowdy geek parties. It's also fun for anyone who wants to see Robert Duvall or Ellen Burstyn or Carroll O'Connor or Tom Skeritt before they were stars. But that's about it. In the spirit of appreciation for at least trying, here's my review of the pilot.
-Rendezvous with Yesterday ***
Four decades on, this show's formula of unsophisticated earnestness with charming production values adds up to fun. The writing is less than sharp, and the vision goes little further than the spirit of adventure, but i laughed out loud and raised my fist several times in appreciation. Tony and Doug's first timeleap lands them on the Titanic. Michael Rennie (THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL) and John Winston (STAR TREK) lend resonance. Showing none of that nitpicky preserve-the-timeline consciousness, they try to stop the accident!
1966
I tried to love this series, i really did.
The shortest-lived of Irwin Allen's shows (LOST IN SPACE, VOYAGE TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA). Set in 1968, it stars Robert Colbert (AMAZON WOMEN ON THE MOON) and James Darren (T.J. HOOKER, DEEP SPACE NINE) as time-traveling scientists who have lost control over when or where they'll land. The performances are charming, and the show's a visual delight. The network wanted to cut the season 2 budget, so Irwin called it quits. Some have called Allen's work the triumph of style over substance, and that about nails it. No one on the writing staff was advanced enough to embrace the notion that TV situations and characters could or should be realistic. It's worth watching for hard-core sci fi fans, and an episode or two might be fun at one a' them rowdy geek parties. It's also fun for anyone who wants to see Robert Duvall or Ellen Burstyn or Carroll O'Connor or Tom Skeritt before they were stars. But that's about it. In the spirit of appreciation for at least trying, here's my review of the pilot.
-Rendezvous with Yesterday ***
Four decades on, this show's formula of unsophisticated earnestness with charming production values adds up to fun. The writing is less than sharp, and the vision goes little further than the spirit of adventure, but i laughed out loud and raised my fist several times in appreciation. Tony and Doug's first timeleap lands them on the Titanic. Michael Rennie (THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL) and John Winston (STAR TREK) lend resonance. Showing none of that nitpicky preserve-the-timeline consciousness, they try to stop the accident!
Earth: Final Conflict
Earth: Final Conflict
1997-2002
No no no no no no no.
Sigh.
Roddenberry scribbled some notes on napkins, then years after his death, his widow (STAR TREK veteran Majel Barrett) executive produces the scribbles into a series, playing a recurring character. Sounds promising, no?
No.
It's not good enough to like, not bad enough to hate. Aliens (who may have a hidden agenda) come to Earth bearing gifts. Great. Sure. It was overhauled in the second season, with the series star replaced by an ensemble vibe. Once i knew how middling it was, i thought i'd get through the first season, then watch the second just out of curiosity (if i came across it cheap).
I almost made it. With only an episode and a half left, i hit my breaking point.
When watching a show, the most significant question one can ask is, "What does this show have to say?" Were the EFC creators hoping that if they brought the other elements together well, nobody would mind the show's lack of a voice? Some shows can get away with that - LAW & ORDER being the most successful example. You don't even have to have a vision as distinct as TREK (or M*A*S*H, or CHAPELLE'S SHOW). But it becomes obvious fairly quickly when there's no active intelligence at work. Churning out an adventure that's a cookie cutter for the values and ideals of the time is an almost foolproof ticket for a swift delivery to history's dustbin.
1997-2002
No no no no no no no.
Sigh.
Roddenberry scribbled some notes on napkins, then years after his death, his widow (STAR TREK veteran Majel Barrett) executive produces the scribbles into a series, playing a recurring character. Sounds promising, no?
No.
It's not good enough to like, not bad enough to hate. Aliens (who may have a hidden agenda) come to Earth bearing gifts. Great. Sure. It was overhauled in the second season, with the series star replaced by an ensemble vibe. Once i knew how middling it was, i thought i'd get through the first season, then watch the second just out of curiosity (if i came across it cheap).
I almost made it. With only an episode and a half left, i hit my breaking point.
When watching a show, the most significant question one can ask is, "What does this show have to say?" Were the EFC creators hoping that if they brought the other elements together well, nobody would mind the show's lack of a voice? Some shows can get away with that - LAW & ORDER being the most successful example. You don't even have to have a vision as distinct as TREK (or M*A*S*H, or CHAPELLE'S SHOW). But it becomes obvious fairly quickly when there's no active intelligence at work. Churning out an adventure that's a cookie cutter for the values and ideals of the time is an almost foolproof ticket for a swift delivery to history's dustbin.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
cyber-dating 101
So you've found yourself in the fascinating frontier of online dating! Relax and enjoy. Before very long, it will be hard to remember a time when people didn't meet this way. The most important thing is to put no pressure on the experience. Treat it like a cereal box prize - it's not going to change your life, but it might be fun. If you've engaged some form of paid site, you've probably already lost any chance at having that right attitude. But no matter! Here are some tips to keep the wind in your sails, and your course true.
You've gone through the preliminaries. You've created some sort of ad for yourself, or jumped into the swampy sea, and found an ad you like.
Now, you must answer it.
We'll wait, while you do that.
Back already? Good!
If you're on a free site, you've probably just given your e-mail address to a spam company who will sell your contact info to the marketers of miracle product Stiffie-Glow (patent pending). Or perhaps your "prospective love" is three giggling pre-teens. Mayhap even a diapered octogenarian, or my personal favorite, sociology undergrads doing field research. What? You could never be tricked by a fake ad? Oh, you sad thing. In this economy, spam companies can hire ad writers more clever than you or i will ever dream of being. And in affairs of love and sex, your gonads or ovaries can reduce your IQ by fifty points any time they damn well feel like it.
So okay! Now comes the fun part. You've made contact with someone who seems to be a human being. And they've weaved a web of words that have convinced you they might just be that special one in a million person who will, you know, kiss your genitals.
Don't get excited.
You haven't even seen this person yet (maybe they "forgot" to include a photo in their first note). Finally, your fingers click the command that will reveal their image. A picture - worth a thousand words. You betcher ass it is.
And...hey! Not bad. They don't look like a movie star, but let's be honest, no one looks like a movie star (including, and especially, movie stars). But this person is actually kinda, what's that word...cute!
Or you haven't been laid in a year. Either way...woo-woo!
Don't...get...excited.
This is the digital era. Everybody in the world has bumbled across one photo of themselves that makes them look vaguely dashing or delectable. Odds are the person on the other end looks nothing like this photo that you're already planning to download as your computer's wallpaper. People will submit any photo they are convinced shows their best side. If you were holding out for some sort of truth-in-advertising...well heck, i didn't even know they had turnip trucks anymore. Or have you been monopolizing that one truck your whole life? Relax, let somebody else deal with a Brassica rapa up their ass, and accept that this person will look very little like their photo...or at best, they kinda looked like that during the Bush administration (no, the other Bush administration). You might even get someone who is so dedicated to showing their best side that their head will be cropped out of the photo. I AM NOT making this up. When you ask for another photo, they will quickly oblige...with another headless photo. If you find one of these people, it will be far easier to get them to send naked (headless) images of themselves than a head shot. My advice is to go with it. Some people look goddamned good headless and naked.
So. You've got a connection, and a photo that flutters your endorphins. You exchange letters, and lo and behold...you uncover a delightful verbal chemistry! They seem intelligent and charming. You feel wittier than Noel Coward. You feel you can really TALK to this person.
Don't. Get. Excited.
You know virtually nothing about this person. Nothing about the interpersonal chemistry that might or might not exist. Nothing about their rythyms, their personal habits, or their smell...any of which might send you climbing a wall. It's even possible that, for some mutually-dysfunctional reason, you and this person might get stuck in this phase, and find reasons to put off meeting for a few weeks...or months...or even...this ACTUALLY HAPPENED to me...years. DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN. You will live the greatest disaster of the cyber-romance age: developing an emotional bond with someone you've not met. The ramifications of a blunder this colossal...well, check your wrists. If you have scars, be prepared for more.
Instead, the moment there's a clear personality connection combined with a visual image that doesn't make you retch, ask them which is the Starbucks of their choice. When you greet each other outside, take them to that dive coffee shop instead.
And then...
You've met.
Maybe, just maybe, you'll talk for hours.
Maybe, just maybe, you'll walk for a couple more. Maybe during your goodbye hug, it will be hard to resist falling asleep and drooling on their neck.
DON'T. GET. EXCITED.
You're now in the real world where you won't meet the "real" them for a month or two.
So okay. My work here is done. I'm off to go scan the "casual encounters" section, looking for an ad from a woman who has never experienced anal. For some reason that a million big blue computers couldn't figure out, this is where a lot of quality women post. Strangely enough, they're not even necessarily looking for anal. I have no idea why.
Class dismissed.
You've gone through the preliminaries. You've created some sort of ad for yourself, or jumped into the swampy sea, and found an ad you like.
Now, you must answer it.
We'll wait, while you do that.
Back already? Good!
If you're on a free site, you've probably just given your e-mail address to a spam company who will sell your contact info to the marketers of miracle product Stiffie-Glow (patent pending). Or perhaps your "prospective love" is three giggling pre-teens. Mayhap even a diapered octogenarian, or my personal favorite, sociology undergrads doing field research. What? You could never be tricked by a fake ad? Oh, you sad thing. In this economy, spam companies can hire ad writers more clever than you or i will ever dream of being. And in affairs of love and sex, your gonads or ovaries can reduce your IQ by fifty points any time they damn well feel like it.
So okay! Now comes the fun part. You've made contact with someone who seems to be a human being. And they've weaved a web of words that have convinced you they might just be that special one in a million person who will, you know, kiss your genitals.
Don't get excited.
You haven't even seen this person yet (maybe they "forgot" to include a photo in their first note). Finally, your fingers click the command that will reveal their image. A picture - worth a thousand words. You betcher ass it is.
And...hey! Not bad. They don't look like a movie star, but let's be honest, no one looks like a movie star (including, and especially, movie stars). But this person is actually kinda, what's that word...cute!
Or you haven't been laid in a year. Either way...woo-woo!
Don't...get...excited.
This is the digital era. Everybody in the world has bumbled across one photo of themselves that makes them look vaguely dashing or delectable. Odds are the person on the other end looks nothing like this photo that you're already planning to download as your computer's wallpaper. People will submit any photo they are convinced shows their best side. If you were holding out for some sort of truth-in-advertising...well heck, i didn't even know they had turnip trucks anymore. Or have you been monopolizing that one truck your whole life? Relax, let somebody else deal with a Brassica rapa up their ass, and accept that this person will look very little like their photo...or at best, they kinda looked like that during the Bush administration (no, the other Bush administration). You might even get someone who is so dedicated to showing their best side that their head will be cropped out of the photo. I AM NOT making this up. When you ask for another photo, they will quickly oblige...with another headless photo. If you find one of these people, it will be far easier to get them to send naked (headless) images of themselves than a head shot. My advice is to go with it. Some people look goddamned good headless and naked.
So. You've got a connection, and a photo that flutters your endorphins. You exchange letters, and lo and behold...you uncover a delightful verbal chemistry! They seem intelligent and charming. You feel wittier than Noel Coward. You feel you can really TALK to this person.
Don't. Get. Excited.
You know virtually nothing about this person. Nothing about the interpersonal chemistry that might or might not exist. Nothing about their rythyms, their personal habits, or their smell...any of which might send you climbing a wall. It's even possible that, for some mutually-dysfunctional reason, you and this person might get stuck in this phase, and find reasons to put off meeting for a few weeks...or months...or even...this ACTUALLY HAPPENED to me...years. DO NOT LET THIS HAPPEN. You will live the greatest disaster of the cyber-romance age: developing an emotional bond with someone you've not met. The ramifications of a blunder this colossal...well, check your wrists. If you have scars, be prepared for more.
Instead, the moment there's a clear personality connection combined with a visual image that doesn't make you retch, ask them which is the Starbucks of their choice. When you greet each other outside, take them to that dive coffee shop instead.
And then...
You've met.
Maybe, just maybe, you'll talk for hours.
Maybe, just maybe, you'll walk for a couple more. Maybe during your goodbye hug, it will be hard to resist falling asleep and drooling on their neck.
DON'T. GET. EXCITED.
You're now in the real world where you won't meet the "real" them for a month or two.
So okay. My work here is done. I'm off to go scan the "casual encounters" section, looking for an ad from a woman who has never experienced anal. For some reason that a million big blue computers couldn't figure out, this is where a lot of quality women post. Strangely enough, they're not even necessarily looking for anal. I have no idea why.
Class dismissed.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Trek's greatest episodes
STAR TREK'S 12 GREATEST EPISODES
-The City on the Edge of Forever
-Mirror, Mirror
-All Our Yesterdays
-The Measure of a Man TNG
-Yesterday's Enterprise TNG
-Tapestry TNG
-The Siege of AR-558 DS9
-Death Wish VOY
-Someone to Watch Over Me VOY
-Blink of an Eye VOY
-Similitude ENT
-In a Mirror, Darkly ENT
-The City on the Edge of Forever
-Mirror, Mirror
-All Our Yesterdays
-The Measure of a Man TNG
-Yesterday's Enterprise TNG
-Tapestry TNG
-The Siege of AR-558 DS9
-Death Wish VOY
-Someone to Watch Over Me VOY
-Blink of an Eye VOY
-Similitude ENT
-In a Mirror, Darkly ENT
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
UGH!
(A TV executive stands at a podium, addressing the media)
EXECUTIVE: Good afternoon. After the decades-long successful pairing of WHEEL OF FORTUNE and JEOPARDY, Sony/CBS is happy to announce the debut of a new game show, which will air in the time slot immediately preceding WHEEL. This new show, entitled UGH!, will feature two-person teams of contestants attempting to put irregularly-shaped objects into corresponding holes. They will race to beat the clock, using hands and mallets and possibly foreheads in their efforts to get the objects into the holes. Each contestant will have their own row of holes, and won't know whether the objects go into their row or their partner's. They will pass or hurl any objects that don't seem to fit, to their partner ten feet away. During play, contestants who speak any words aloud will be immediately disqualified. They will be allowed to communicate with their partners (and themselves) only through guttural, uni- or poly-syllabic grunts, shouts, and moans. UGH! was created as the result of a study of comparitive IQs of JEOPARDY and WHEEL audiences. The average WHEEL viewer has an IQ of 91, the average JEOPARDY viewer 112. Our researchers tell us there is an untapped demographic these shows exclude, the 30-some percent of Americans who are uncomfortable with the complexity of WHEEL. It is these viewers that UGH! will target, plus a majority of WHEEL viewers, and also those JEOPARDY viewers who are embarrassed by WHEEL, yet also have tendencies toward intellectual arrogance and slapstick. I'll take any questions now...
EXECUTIVE: Good afternoon. After the decades-long successful pairing of WHEEL OF FORTUNE and JEOPARDY, Sony/CBS is happy to announce the debut of a new game show, which will air in the time slot immediately preceding WHEEL. This new show, entitled UGH!, will feature two-person teams of contestants attempting to put irregularly-shaped objects into corresponding holes. They will race to beat the clock, using hands and mallets and possibly foreheads in their efforts to get the objects into the holes. Each contestant will have their own row of holes, and won't know whether the objects go into their row or their partner's. They will pass or hurl any objects that don't seem to fit, to their partner ten feet away. During play, contestants who speak any words aloud will be immediately disqualified. They will be allowed to communicate with their partners (and themselves) only through guttural, uni- or poly-syllabic grunts, shouts, and moans. UGH! was created as the result of a study of comparitive IQs of JEOPARDY and WHEEL audiences. The average WHEEL viewer has an IQ of 91, the average JEOPARDY viewer 112. Our researchers tell us there is an untapped demographic these shows exclude, the 30-some percent of Americans who are uncomfortable with the complexity of WHEEL. It is these viewers that UGH! will target, plus a majority of WHEEL viewers, and also those JEOPARDY viewers who are embarrassed by WHEEL, yet also have tendencies toward intellectual arrogance and slapstick. I'll take any questions now...
beedom
You don't have to be wise with me
Just be
You don't have to be strong with me
Just be
You don't have to be funny with me
Just be
You don't have to be patient with me
Just be
You don't have to be humble with me
Just be
You don't have to be yourself with me
Just be
Just be
You don't have to be strong with me
Just be
You don't have to be funny with me
Just be
You don't have to be patient with me
Just be
You don't have to be humble with me
Just be
You don't have to be yourself with me
Just be
Monday, December 5, 2011
Turn Away
(sung to the tune of Chicago's "Look Away", the #1 single of 1989)
When Cetera left the band
We all feared we'd lost our sound
We were bummin' baby
Really bummin' baby
Found someone else
A new kid in town
His name is Jason, baby
It's really Jason, baby, whoa...
We made Chicago 18
David Foster was still around
We kicked some righteous tunes
With that sweet brass rockin' sound
And so we came right back for more
Made Chicago 19 as we kicked Foster out the door
But if we're on the radio
And you don't know where to go
Turn away, baby, turn away
If you remember Hard Habit to Break
And it's more than you can take
Turn away, baby, turn away
Don't listen to this
We don't want you to hear us this way
It's so hard for us to say we're sorry
For offering up this turd
It's a power ballad, baby
Michael Bolton passed on, baby, whoa
The charts say it's fine
But that's pretty damn absurd
This song could use some brass
Could really use some brass, whoa...
We just never thought
That Cetera'd up and run
Feelin' weaker every day, how could this be #1?
The days of multi-plats are old
Our next album, it won't even go gold
And if we're on the radio
And you don't know where to go
Turn away, baby, turn away
If you remember Hard Habit to Break
And it's more than you can take
Turn away, baby, turn away
Don't listen to this
We don't want you to hear us this way
When Cetera left the band
We all feared we'd lost our sound
We were bummin' baby
Really bummin' baby
When Cetera left the band
We all feared we'd lost our sound
We were bummin' baby
Really bummin' baby
Found someone else
A new kid in town
His name is Jason, baby
It's really Jason, baby, whoa...
We made Chicago 18
David Foster was still around
We kicked some righteous tunes
With that sweet brass rockin' sound
And so we came right back for more
Made Chicago 19 as we kicked Foster out the door
But if we're on the radio
And you don't know where to go
Turn away, baby, turn away
If you remember Hard Habit to Break
And it's more than you can take
Turn away, baby, turn away
Don't listen to this
We don't want you to hear us this way
It's so hard for us to say we're sorry
For offering up this turd
It's a power ballad, baby
Michael Bolton passed on, baby, whoa
The charts say it's fine
But that's pretty damn absurd
This song could use some brass
Could really use some brass, whoa...
We just never thought
That Cetera'd up and run
Feelin' weaker every day, how could this be #1?
The days of multi-plats are old
Our next album, it won't even go gold
And if we're on the radio
And you don't know where to go
Turn away, baby, turn away
If you remember Hard Habit to Break
And it's more than you can take
Turn away, baby, turn away
Don't listen to this
We don't want you to hear us this way
When Cetera left the band
We all feared we'd lost our sound
We were bummin' baby
Really bummin' baby
Saturday, December 3, 2011
new yorkers
I've lived in New York for eight years, and it wasn't until today that i realized i'm not a New Yorker. And probably will never be.
I had an experience that crystallized what a New Yorker is. I've searched for a word to capture the essence. I thought it might be "jaded", but whatever else they may be, New Yorkers are Americans, and Americans are too coddled to be paragons of jadedness.
The right word finally hit me.
Imperturbable.
New Yorkers are the most imperturbable people on the face of the planet.
I was doing art modeling for a painter in his Queens studio. The studio is in an enormous six-story factory/warehouse/office building. It's more than a block long. Near the end of our session, the fire alarm went off. I didn't say anything, and the artist kept drawing. After a minute, he said that it was probably somebody smoking.
The alarm keeps ringing on and off for the next few minutes. Then, the urgent voice of one of the artist's co-tenants is heard shouting, "The building's on fire!!" I was dressed up for the pose. I picked up my own clothes and bag, and followed the artist out the door. I debated grabbing my bike, but thought better of it. When we got to the main hallway, there was grey smoke from floor to ceiling. We could see well enough to get around, but couldn't tell where the smoke was coming from. We reached the fire escape, and got out of the building.
This is where New Yorkers and the rest of the world take different paths.
There were fifteen of us on the fire escape. The fifth floor. None of us then did the thing that any of you would do.
None of us walked down the fire escape.
I went farther than the others. I went down half a landing, putting me ten feet further away from the door.
Everyone else just stopped.
There was smoke coming out of the door, clearly being breathed in by everyone except me. A couple of them didn't even come all the way outside.
They just stood there...essentially waiting for the all-clear to go back into the building. To get back to work.
The all-clear?
Kids, your building is on fire.
Pheh, the New Yorkers say. I don't see flames. It's not even hot.
But...what about the smoke! Do any of you have any idea whether that smoke might be, what's the word, toxic?
Phooey, the New Yorkers say. If these orders don't get filled, there'll be hell to pay.
The nuttiest part?
Within fifteen minutes, everybody was back at work.
Don't tell me the Japanese have a better work ethic. If our economy is struggling, it's only because "Noo Yawk Attytood 101" isn't on the syllabus at every business school in the country.
No, i'm not a New Yorker. What's going through my mind in that situation is, "Whee! If i make it out alive, i've got the rest of the day off! Hell, maybe the rest of the week! Live, baby, live!"
Since i was the only person who actually removed myself from the building and the smoke, it's quite clear that i am not now, and probably never will be, a New Yorker.
Plus, i'm also pretty sure that no true New Yorker would ever use the word "phooey".
I had an experience that crystallized what a New Yorker is. I've searched for a word to capture the essence. I thought it might be "jaded", but whatever else they may be, New Yorkers are Americans, and Americans are too coddled to be paragons of jadedness.
The right word finally hit me.
Imperturbable.
New Yorkers are the most imperturbable people on the face of the planet.
I was doing art modeling for a painter in his Queens studio. The studio is in an enormous six-story factory/warehouse/office building. It's more than a block long. Near the end of our session, the fire alarm went off. I didn't say anything, and the artist kept drawing. After a minute, he said that it was probably somebody smoking.
The alarm keeps ringing on and off for the next few minutes. Then, the urgent voice of one of the artist's co-tenants is heard shouting, "The building's on fire!!" I was dressed up for the pose. I picked up my own clothes and bag, and followed the artist out the door. I debated grabbing my bike, but thought better of it. When we got to the main hallway, there was grey smoke from floor to ceiling. We could see well enough to get around, but couldn't tell where the smoke was coming from. We reached the fire escape, and got out of the building.
This is where New Yorkers and the rest of the world take different paths.
There were fifteen of us on the fire escape. The fifth floor. None of us then did the thing that any of you would do.
None of us walked down the fire escape.
I went farther than the others. I went down half a landing, putting me ten feet further away from the door.
Everyone else just stopped.
There was smoke coming out of the door, clearly being breathed in by everyone except me. A couple of them didn't even come all the way outside.
They just stood there...essentially waiting for the all-clear to go back into the building. To get back to work.
The all-clear?
Kids, your building is on fire.
Pheh, the New Yorkers say. I don't see flames. It's not even hot.
But...what about the smoke! Do any of you have any idea whether that smoke might be, what's the word, toxic?
Phooey, the New Yorkers say. If these orders don't get filled, there'll be hell to pay.
The nuttiest part?
Within fifteen minutes, everybody was back at work.
Don't tell me the Japanese have a better work ethic. If our economy is struggling, it's only because "Noo Yawk Attytood 101" isn't on the syllabus at every business school in the country.
No, i'm not a New Yorker. What's going through my mind in that situation is, "Whee! If i make it out alive, i've got the rest of the day off! Hell, maybe the rest of the week! Live, baby, live!"
Since i was the only person who actually removed myself from the building and the smoke, it's quite clear that i am not now, and probably never will be, a New Yorker.
Plus, i'm also pretty sure that no true New Yorker would ever use the word "phooey".
Thursday, December 1, 2011
bug-eyed
(WARNING: the following employs comedic exaggeration, but not nearly as much as 99% of you will think)
Know how to turn a woman into a bug-eyed deer caught in the universe's headlights?
Declare your intent to love her.
Her shock and confusion will allow you to approach her. Once you get close, you might be granted a few weeks during which she figures you out. Once she realizes you have no desire other than to love her, she'll know that proceeding any further will allow you to find out how fucked up she is. The last glimpse you will have of her is the flash of a bushy tail as she bounds off into life's thicket.
Romance novels.
Lies.
Chick flicks.
Lies.
Lies so devious the deceivers are deceived.
There is one woman in this world who desires to be loved. She lives in Manitoba, is slyly flatulent, and wears one of them flappy hats. Unless your name is Ralph Meeker or Jojobu Tsangwe, you will not be dealing with her today. Unless you are Ralph or Jojobu, do NOT declare your intent to love any woman you face today.
Declare your intent to enable her. This will bring her great comfort.
Declare your intent to fuck her. She'll know how to handle that.
Declare your intent to subsidize her. She'll offer you her body, and secretly resent you.
Declare your intent to cage her. She'll scamper in gladly (as she palms your spare key).
Pity her? Absolutely.
Pity yourself? Probably.
And if you think you or she has it bad, try to imagine the living hell of a woman declaring her intent to love a man.
Know how to turn a woman into a bug-eyed deer caught in the universe's headlights?
Declare your intent to love her.
Her shock and confusion will allow you to approach her. Once you get close, you might be granted a few weeks during which she figures you out. Once she realizes you have no desire other than to love her, she'll know that proceeding any further will allow you to find out how fucked up she is. The last glimpse you will have of her is the flash of a bushy tail as she bounds off into life's thicket.
Romance novels.
Lies.
Chick flicks.
Lies.
Lies so devious the deceivers are deceived.
There is one woman in this world who desires to be loved. She lives in Manitoba, is slyly flatulent, and wears one of them flappy hats. Unless your name is Ralph Meeker or Jojobu Tsangwe, you will not be dealing with her today. Unless you are Ralph or Jojobu, do NOT declare your intent to love any woman you face today.
Declare your intent to enable her. This will bring her great comfort.
Declare your intent to fuck her. She'll know how to handle that.
Declare your intent to subsidize her. She'll offer you her body, and secretly resent you.
Declare your intent to cage her. She'll scamper in gladly (as she palms your spare key).
Pity her? Absolutely.
Pity yourself? Probably.
And if you think you or she has it bad, try to imagine the living hell of a woman declaring her intent to love a man.
Farscape
1999-2003
My loathing for this series is quite out of balance with how offensive it actually is. There are those among you who might even enjoy it, and i wouldn't call you patent morons for doing so. I simply fell into the unfortunate circumstance of believing a reviewer who said that the third season was so great it was worth sitting through the first two. So i did.
The show starts promisingly. Winning performances, sharp visuals...
But that promise de-rails quickly.
It was filmed in Australia and produced by the Henson Company, with puppets alongside human actors. It's the tale of an astronaut who is hurled to the other side of the galaxy, quickly becoming a hunted fugitive along with a small band of escaped political prisoners on a living spaceship. There is a high level of mistrust, but they work together to survive.
An idea, as they say, with legs.
The problem is, the writers want it both ways. The mistrust is undercut by a touchy-feely vibe. These two forces are at odds, and the reality of the former is negated by the needs of the latter, in a way that feels forced. Get ugly, get raw, or put on a production of "Up With People". But don't do both.
And it might even have worked, if the lead weren't such a whiny asshat. John Crichton too often says or does the wrong thing, making it too hard to root for him. Part of the show's charm was supposed to be his pop-culture references that only the audience gets. But he comes off as too much pretty boy and not enough geek for that aspect to work. Ben Browder is a capable actor, but the wrong casting choice. The character of Zhaan (Virginia Hey) had great potential, but her seeker's wisdom and absence of nudity taboos petered out through writer neglect. The epic, adrenaline-filled closing music makes you think that the composer never saw the show. Kent McCord (ADAM-12, AIRPLANE 2) is charming as the recurring father. But the show doesn't work. The fact that it's almost clever, almost innovative, and almost daring ultimately make it more infuriating than all those shows which are none of those things. One great episode in two seasons (the tight and dark "A Human Reaction") isn't enough to warrant not pulling the plug. By the time i got to the second half of the second season, my head-shaking "walk-away" klaxon was insistent. When i finally survived to that heralded third season, i only lasted an episode and a half before a maudlin plotline about moronic sexual jealousy pushed my retch reaction over the edge.
My loathing for this series is quite out of balance with how offensive it actually is. There are those among you who might even enjoy it, and i wouldn't call you patent morons for doing so. I simply fell into the unfortunate circumstance of believing a reviewer who said that the third season was so great it was worth sitting through the first two. So i did.
The show starts promisingly. Winning performances, sharp visuals...
But that promise de-rails quickly.
It was filmed in Australia and produced by the Henson Company, with puppets alongside human actors. It's the tale of an astronaut who is hurled to the other side of the galaxy, quickly becoming a hunted fugitive along with a small band of escaped political prisoners on a living spaceship. There is a high level of mistrust, but they work together to survive.
An idea, as they say, with legs.
The problem is, the writers want it both ways. The mistrust is undercut by a touchy-feely vibe. These two forces are at odds, and the reality of the former is negated by the needs of the latter, in a way that feels forced. Get ugly, get raw, or put on a production of "Up With People". But don't do both.
And it might even have worked, if the lead weren't such a whiny asshat. John Crichton too often says or does the wrong thing, making it too hard to root for him. Part of the show's charm was supposed to be his pop-culture references that only the audience gets. But he comes off as too much pretty boy and not enough geek for that aspect to work. Ben Browder is a capable actor, but the wrong casting choice. The character of Zhaan (Virginia Hey) had great potential, but her seeker's wisdom and absence of nudity taboos petered out through writer neglect. The epic, adrenaline-filled closing music makes you think that the composer never saw the show. Kent McCord (ADAM-12, AIRPLANE 2) is charming as the recurring father. But the show doesn't work. The fact that it's almost clever, almost innovative, and almost daring ultimately make it more infuriating than all those shows which are none of those things. One great episode in two seasons (the tight and dark "A Human Reaction") isn't enough to warrant not pulling the plug. By the time i got to the second half of the second season, my head-shaking "walk-away" klaxon was insistent. When i finally survived to that heralded third season, i only lasted an episode and a half before a maudlin plotline about moronic sexual jealousy pushed my retch reaction over the edge.
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