Archive for the ‘TV’ Category

11 things that saved summer

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

Summer … That desolate stretch of networks dumping cheaply-produced, mind-numbing reality shows to substitute for any worthwhile programming.  That action less void of sports TV, except for golf (yawn) and baseball (double play yawn). That miserable oven of heat and humidity (hey, this is Florida) that saps the very will to budge from your mind or body.

But here were 10 signs of relief:

11) Capping the goddamned oil well leak. Oh my god. Was there anything else for the news to cover non-stop for more than three months than this tar ball cluster fuck? And the only real story was, “It’s still leaking.” Okay, we got it; just let us all know when it’s done. THAT will be news again. But there was one ironic and funny side story. Small business fisherman who despise the government and avoid paying taxes by operating on a cash-only and no-records business were suddenly whining for a bailout and full compensation on lost wages … but got caught with their pants down by having NO RECORDS to prove what their wages actually were. “I swear I pulled a 100k last year, BP and mister government man, just write me a full check, okay?”

10) Crowded House at the Hard Rock Live. The band Crowded House played their farewell concert in Sydney, Australia fourteen years ago to a crowd of about 250,000 fans singing along to every song. My son and I enjoyed this ‘comeback’ tour from 7th row dead center at a venue holding less than 2,500. America, unlike the rest of the world,  never fully ‘got’ Crowded House, which is perplexing, because front man/singer/songwriter Neil Finn is as close as you’ll ever get to John Lennon’s biting lyrics and hard rocking and Paul McCartney’s great voice and soothing melodies wrapped together in one performer. “Don’t Dream It’s Over (Hey Now)” may have been their only big stateside hit, but going by the enthusiasm of this show and the audience love sing along, this ‘dream’ band is very much alive.

9) “The Ghost Writer” on Pay per View. What a nifty, old-fashioned spy thriller. Hitchcock would approve. The story involves a hack writer (Ewan McGregor) hired to rewrite the memoir of a controversial former British Prime Minister (Pierce Brosnan), whose previous ghost writer died mysteriously. Needless to say, our hero soon finds what a scary, deep shitstorm he’s gotten himself into. Roman Polanski is a master director who just knows how to shoot a well-told story with a compelling, non-stop sense of unease. I shudder to think what the Hollywood studio version of this would be (loud and noisy and jerky and short of attention span - in other words; Vantage Point). And please folks, separate the art from the artist. If you removed all the music, movies, paintings and books created by assholes, jerks, criminals, misanthropes, misogynists, perverts, addicts, or just damaged egomaniacs, there’d be very little left of any worth. Sometimes it’s what they’re escaping from (the ugliness of who they really are or how they feel) that drives them so relentlessly toward crafting something beautiful, pure and masterful.

8 ) Blue Rodeo “The Things We Left Behind” on CD. Canadian folk rock band Blue Rodeo have been around for a long time, but unlike many bands who produce a few great albums early on and then coast on mediocrity, this double CD finds them still reaching for musical nirvana, and achieving it. If you like early acoustic Pink Floyd or the Eagles when they were still hungry, here’s your perfect soundtrack. It’s the only thing I’ve heard all summer that keeps finding its way back to my car CD player. There are lilting 10-minute suites, and perfect 3-minute pop chestnuts. And just try to escape the haunting mantra of “Don’t Let the Darkness in Your Head” from, well, haunting your head. It’s a chant we all need embrace to escape the bleak moods (or news) we either get stuck in, or find the strength to overcome. This beautiful double album summons that strength.

7) Mad Men on AMC. Nothing pops through the bleakness of summer television like the return of this gourmet feast for lovers of sophisticated and engrossing television. And where else (besides The Sopranos) can you find a more sympathetic heel than Don Draper, who disgusts you at the same time he compels you to root for him? That takes writing AND great acting, which this show has in spades.

6) Louie on FX. Speaking of miserable heels; Louis C.K. is to a New York comedian’s life what Larry David was to Los Angeles on Curb Your Enthusiasm. You squirm watching his embarrassing social gaffes and inevitable self-loathing, but the difference is that Louis is aware of his loser status, is trying to overcome it through fatherhood, and actually struggles to find a way to connect to other humans, whereas David is forever stuck being the inconsiderate lout who basically doesn’t seem to care beyond his own needs in the end. Louie got soul. And some awesome New York supporting actors.

5) The Virginian, Season One on DVD. Nothing provides a better escape from the reality of the present than a good, old fashioned classic television show from the past.  I always liked the 90-minute NBC show The Virginian (which ran from 1962-1969) featuring my early childhood hero Trampas (and later Hollywood ‘pal’ Doug McClure), but watching this show now I’m surpised at the good stories and great actors. Each episode is literally a mini-Western movie. Some with A-listers like Bette Davis, Robert Duvall, and Lee Marvin, and some by feature directors, such as Sam Fuller. Plus, this show was largely shot on location and not some fake outdoor set like Bonanza. If you like Westerns, hitch a ride and be transported to a time and place where old-school values and first class stories roamed and ruled.

4) Red Dead Redemption on Xbox 360. Speaking of Westerns, I bought this game for my 13 year-old son (or actually myself – it’s “M” rated) in May, and here we are three months later still not finished the main single player campaign. The graphics are realistically awesome to the point where you literally ARE transported into the old West (with some modern day gore and language) becoming part of the story. You can play the game honorably; completing the missions, saving people in distress, and only killing the bad guys. Or you can play the game as a roaming ruthless outlaw, with each version having its own consequences (it’s made by the same company that did Grand Theft Auto). I was immensely relieved to discover my son (having played hours and hours on his own) taking the ‘good’ path and achieving the highest honor rating possible. His dad, on the other hand, was not so honorable. There were a couple of scumbag unarmed villains I had to shoot even though they were already captured and hogtied.

3) Schlotsky’s Deli at the Austin Airport. We used to have five Schlotsky’s franchises locally, but they vanished years ago and the closest one is 90 miles away. Still, that hasn’t stopped me from driving there for lunch. A great vacation visiting my sister at her house south of Austin was bookended by scoring my family’s favorite round sourdough bread and minced meat sandwiches on the way in and on the way out. Schlotsky’s Deli is headquartered in Austin and part of the normal fast food landscape there, but like all treats in life, you appreciate them only more so when they’re gone.

2) “Inception.” Thank god there was one movie this summer not based on a comic book, a previous movie, television show, Disney ride, or candy wrapper. You actually had to invest some functioning brain activity to follow the plot and keep up with four simultaneous finales going on at the same time within different dream levels. And the ending was open to your own feelings or interpretation. Was he still in a dream or not? If you were still on board and paying attention, you may have noticed Leonardo’s character didn’t really care at that point, so why should we? It was a fun ride.

1) “Hellraisers: The Life and Inebriated Times of Richard Burton, Richard Harris, Peter O’Toole and Oliver Reed” by Robert Sellers. A writer better damn well include a book on this list, so why not one that lets us vicariously enjoy the most outrageous and salacious adventures of the best party animal actors that ever lived? Personally, I don’t think my own constitution could have matched or survived any one of these incidents or activities of mass alcohol consumption, barroom destruction, or insatiable sexual conquest. But if you read my previous blog (“Two Weeks at War”), you know I tried … God knows I tried.

What’s on the DVR: Spring 2010 edition

Friday, April 9th, 2010

The Pacific on HBO

At the risk of getting fragged, let me state up front that I thought Band of Brothers was no masterpiece. By the time you sorted out the characters and cared for them, they were either dead or the series was nearly over. I’ve seen much better personal stories on episodes of the 1963-66 series, Combat, which also showcased a lone platoon or band of brothers single-handedly winning World War II. Band of Brothers looked and sounded great, though, and was suitably realistic (guns jammed and ran out of ammo), and gruesome (soldiers got mutilated).  The Pacific narrows the focus to the journeys of three individual soldiers fighting the Japanese, so it’s easier to know the characters, but they’re not together and the narrative jumps back and forth between them. And it’s also gruesome, with depictions of naked soldiers going crazy in the jungles and eating their pistols, Japanese getting mowed down by machine-guns or flame-throwers, parasitic-caused bed-wetting, dysentery and foot rot. I wonder what men like my uncle, who fought as a Marine in the Pacific, would think of this show; which dwells less on the mission, and more on the misery, confusion, guilt and PTSD. Would they really want to visit that side of the conflict again? There’s a reason why all the movies done in the immediate wake of the Big War starred ‘noble’ icons like John Wayne and glossed over the horror. Now, revisionist productions make subsequent generations wallow in it, not so much because we need it to understand the sacrifice our fathers and grandfathers made, but more, I suspect, because we’ve come to expect it after being so desensitized to gore or violence on screen and in video games. The rallying cry of war depicted on film used to be “No guts, no glory.” Now, it’s “All guts, all gory.”

Nurse Jackie on Showtime

Normally, I avoid medical shows like the plague (you just never know what you’re going to catch watching one), but this show is stacked with great characters played by some terrific NYC actors. Watching Edie Falco stay calm in the middle of the ER-trauma-ward storm in her professional life, and self-destruct as a pill-popping, sack-hopping disaster in her personal life somehow provides a soothing medicinal balm for any viewer who thinks THEY’VE got problems.

Justified on FX

Elmore Leonard always understood how low life criminals making terrible decisions, botching robberies, kidnapping the wrong people, and turning on each other whenever there’s a dollar to grub like caged and starving pit bulls … makes fun entertainment. And cable television finally caught up with being able to feature most of this shit without turning the camera away during the good parts. Who doesn’t want to see a skinhead neo-Nazi redneck have his face shoved into a steering wheel obliterating his nose? (Especially if it were Jesse James!) Timothy Olyphant doesn’t exactly rock the acting Richter scale (he goes from a steel-eyed half grimace to a steel-eyed half smirk), but it’s about the closest we’re going to get to having Clint Eastwood cloned or recycled. And, if fast draw gunfights or slow drawl dialogue zingers are your thing, minus the horses, cattle and BULL, this modern day Western will … make your day.

Two hit men (one veteran, one rookie) watch a crime scene from their car,staking out their intended target – Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens:

VETERAN HIT MAN: He’s the one in the hat.

ROOKIE HIT MAN: The tall one?

VETERAN HIT MAN (after a blank look and a pause): The one in the hat.

(This just may be my new favorite show)

Fringe on Fox

God I miss The X-Files (at least the first five seasons). But until the blu-ray season sets come out and I watch them all over again, this show will have to do. And it has dramatically improved in its second season and is worth watching for John Noble’s wacky Walter alone.

Damages on FX

It’s uncertain we’ll get a fourth season at this point, but it’s definitely been worth the ride. This third season has basically been the story of tracking down the money scammed off investors in a Ponzi scheme by a Bernie Madoff-style character who kills himself before going to prison. But cast Lily Tomlin against type as the button-lipped society wife, Martin Short as the creepy and loyal lawyer, and Campbell Scott as the ruthless son, and you’re already cooking a bitches’ and bastards’ brew of tasty and unexpected drama. Glen Close plays Patty Hewes, the powerful but ethically dubious lawyer going around and below the law to recover the money for her plaintiffs. My dad was a county attorney who came from the Atticus Finch breed of idealistic and ethical upholders of the law, and would cringe at the greedy sleazebags who often demean his chosen profession, but he also enjoyed a gripping yarn, and this one grabs you in the same place Patty Hewes is grabbing the poor schmucks who defy her.

Parenthood on NBC

Based on the beloved Ron Howard movie of the same name, but having nothing to do with that film, those characters, or real life, this show tries to walk the line between either being poignant or cute, and comes off just cute. Tough, no nonsense Maura Tierney (Rescue Me last season) was originally cast to play the Lauren Graham role, and I can’t help imagining how that might have changed the whole tone of the show, but with Graham it tilts too much from believable drama to sit-com shtick. Also, listen carefully to Monica Potter as Kristina Braverman and imagine her with brown hair and a trademark giggle and you have the perfect Julia Roberts clone. It’s just something to do while passing the time enjoying an uncomplicated show that doesn’t require any heavy thinking.

LOST on ABC

Leave all the heavy thinking to LOST. Doc Jensen, Entertainment Weekly’s online recap columnist, regularly spends up to 12 pages interpreting each episode. That’s 11 pages of arcane references to existentialism, philosophers Locke or Kierkegaard or Nietzsche, Egyptian mythology, quantum physics, magnetic thermodynamics, wormholes, Chaos Theory and the Old Testament. And one page devoted to what actually happened in the episode. Here’s a typical sentence from one of his recaps: “Seen in the abstract, with the castaways representing a singular entity, the scene was a metaphor for existential consciousness: fragmented, argumentative, double-minded, self-referencing but non-reflective, inert to the point of paralysis, compelled to action only by crisis.”

I love a program that can stimulate more than 1,000 posts every week (with sub-posts) on one site debating the meaning of every single moment, reference or character. But I can’t help but suspect the show itself was all concocted by writers huddled around a hookah smoking awesome Moroccan hash, giggling incessantly, and throwing out stream-of-consciousness ideas in random moments of eureka, then starting to freak out realizing they had to somehow cobble it all together before the buzz wore off.

Breaking Bad on AMC

This show had me long before the decapitated head of the Mexican drug henchman exploded on the back of a huge walking tortoise taking out several Border patrol officers. Or before the voiceless, near-quadriplegic uncle of another drug lord began incessantly pushing a hotel bell to warn his nephew he was about to be poisoned by our meth-cooking series ‘hero’ Walter White. Or when the stolen ATM machine fell over and crushed the skull of the same lowlife who hijacked it. In between these insanely dark, tense and morbidly funny moments lays the tale of a family man/high school teacher and the American Dream going horribly sour.

And here’s to you, Mr. Robinson

Friday, March 26th, 2010

Robert Culp died yesterday at 79 after suffering a heart attack on a walk near his home. I don’t do obituaries (I used to do the police blotter for a newspaper), but this actor was one of the special ones for me.

I first saw Culp in the gothic-horror-science-fiction television series The Outer Limits in my favorite episode, “The Architects of Fear,” in 1963. He played a scientist who drew the short straw among a group of peace-minded conspirators who had decided the only way to bring together the Cold War enemies of Earth was to create a threat from … outside of Earth. Culp, as Allen Leighton, would be slowly and surgically transformed into a ‘scarecrow’ alien from another world, who would land in a rocket, address the U.N., and frighten the people of the world to unite against a common enemy. Of course, the plan backfires, he lands off course, and a couple duck hunters shoot him. Dying, he makes his way back to the lab where he was transformed, only to be confronted by his wife, who had been told months ago that her husband had been killed in a car accident. As she watches this monster die before her, he makes a ‘sign against evil’ with his finger that she recognizes could only be made by her late husband, and the tragic consequences of these frightened men’s scheme unravels before her tears.

What a mind-blowing impact that story and Culp’s amazingly sympathetic performance had on me at nine years old. His performance must have had the same impact on the producers of the show, because they brought him back a few episodes later for “Corpus Earthling” to play another character dealing with space rocks that morphed into soul-stealing parasites. And, they brought him back again for still a third character, Trent, in the forever classic episode from the second season written by Harlan Ellison, “Demon with a Glass Hand.”  Trent wakes up in the future with no memories, aliens trying to kill him, and a glass computer hand missing fingers needed to complete the data base required to provide full information about where the missing six billion humans of Earth have disappeared. Imagine his surprise when he ultimately discovers they’ve all been transposed onto a copper wire embedded in his own chest circuitry – he’s a robot. And the human chick he was just starting to emotionally connect to? Not so interested anymore. Bummer.

Culp played characters that, undoubtedly like his own personality, were instantly likeable, instantly empathetic. They could connect with the deep pathos required of any role, but there was also great levity. Even in the direst of circumstances, he could find amusement or absurdity in the situation. Sure, life is serious business, but what’s the point if you can’t blow out the fun on the other end? And who wouldn’t want a buddy like that? To be sure, he played the ultimate buddy when he was teamed with comedian Bill Cosby as world weary spies in I Spy from 1966-68. Culp played U.S. spy Kelly Robinson, whose cover was a tennis player on tour. Cosby played his trainer, Alexander Scott. This show was not only notable for being the first dramatic television series to cast a black man in a co-leading role, but it showed what remarkable chemistry and improvisation both actors could create and enjoy together.  Again, it was deadly serious business, but these guys always found a way to enjoy the journey and have a blast. And so did we. They set an impossibly high standard for what the perfect buddy relationship was all about.

Culp went on to direct television episodes, star in some memorable movies, and build a whole new television generation fan base with his role on The Greatest American Hero. But, for me, those iconic early 60s roles are the ones that glisten; the ones I connect to; and the ones I still get such a kick out of every time I pop a DVD in and see that classic glint in his eye: A glint that seemed to include us as it winked, “Isn’t it great to be a thinking man in such a silly business? Wish you were here.”

You brought us along, Robert, you brought us along. Thank you. Now go in peace.

My top 10 for the next 25

Wednesday, March 10th, 2010

Columnist Michael Ventura, who writes the excellent Letters at 3 a.m. column for The Austin Chronicle (and used to write for the L.A. Weekly), suggested this ‘exercise in know thyself’ for the New Year:  “List the Top 10 cultural artifacts that shaped you most. Be honest and unembarrassed. That’s the dare.”

Here’s mine for the second 25 years of my life (in no special order):

10) The I Ching Workbook by R.L. Wing I can’t count the number of times this brilliant and brief meditative journal has delivered me from anxiety regarding a life situation and preserved my sanity in the process (actually, I can count – I’ve consulted it more than 391 times in the past 25 years).  The “I Ching” is an ancient Chinese philosophy on coping with change that remains spot-on today, but is greatly misunderstood by Western standards: You toss three coins, combine a couple Trigrams and come up with a number and situation corresponding to where you’re at, and where you’re headed (e.g.;  Nourishing – Advancement). How could something so seemingly random produce such profoundly personal insights? The answer is simply … it doesn’t: You do. The process gets you to actually sit down and focus your own mental energy and inner wisdom toward accepting change or resolving conflict. These inner resources are always present, but we seldom take the time or trust ourselves to look for them and listen. Someone brilliantly pointed out that prayer is like asking God for something, but mediation is about actually listening to God. The I Ching puts you in a place to listen to God resonating within yourself to provide your own best counsel. It directs you to an answer, and you provide the meaning relevant to your situation. Writing that meaning down in the workbook is powerful therapy toward acceptance or resolution, and inner peace. 

9) “GROUNDHOG DAY” I doubt director Harold Ramis ever set out to deliberately make the perfect Zen movie, but he did.  Bill Murray plays a cynical weatherman doomed to live out the same mundane day over and over again. Anyone who’s ever held a regular monotonous job or been stuck in any kind of life rut can identify with that, right? Plus, it’s Bill Murrary, for crying out loud. He IS the Everyman. But what finally snaps him out of this ‘doomed’ existence? One day, perhaps day 1,002, he finally tries a different attitude and decides to embrace every single moment of the day no matter how banal or excruciating (an insurance salesman!), and that shift – to embrace each moment – is what ultimately delivers him from his ‘hell’ on Earth. It doesn’t get more Zen than that. But the fact that enlightenment arrives in the form of this goofy comedy instead of some inscrutable Buddhist koan is what makes it … perfect.

8. “SIX FEET UNDER” on HBO Death (and dealing with death) comes out of the closet. A funeral director dies prematurely (he’s hit by a bus), and for five seasons (2001-2006) we explore the emotional fallout of his surviving widow and three adult children (six feet under, get it?). Perhaps because my father died the same year this premiered, and my mother the year after it ended, the themes of loss, coping and healing speak volumes to me. But this show is so finely tuned to the human condition, the writing so pure, the presentation so jolting, and the acting so phenomenal, anyone can find some intensely felt connection with the events or emotions of these characters during their life journeys. You laugh, you weep, you marvel, you cringe, and you bear witness to 60 unbelievably awesome hours of television, and the best finale every aired.

7) “IN MY TRIBE” by 10,000 MANIACS I haven’t heard an album this immediately interesting and catchy since, well, since this first came out in 1987. And I’ve been listening carefully ever since, believe me. Hanging out with Jack Kerouac and the beat poets. Warning your brother not to become a gun nut now that he’s joined the Army. Listening to a haunting Verdi opera playing in the guestroom next door at your family’s beach vacation. Wondering about the madness behind a child-abusing neighbor. Trying to talk sense to an alcoholic. Lamenting what a circus the city of Los Angeles has become.  It all sounds so depressing on the lyric sheet, but is positively infectious with melody, great hooks and some of the most sparkling electric guitar shadings you’ll ever hear on CD. Delivered with Natalie Merchant’s passionate and unique vocals, you have a classic that will survive any time capsule as a knowing glimpse of “our tribe” toward the end of the twentieth century.

6) “THE POWER OF NOW by ECKHART TOLLE There’s nothing new about the concept of “be here now.” We’ve all heard a hundred variations of this theme from self-help books to religious texts, and from mystics to little league coaches. But for those of us either blessed or cursed with a rational mind, this book speaks clearly, profoundly, and easy to grasp. Hell, even Oprah ‘got it.’ Once you understand that all fear is your mind’s projection of an outcome, event or piece of information that isn’t even real yet, you start to get a sense of the forces within ourselves that trap or hold us back from truly enjoying any given moment. I read this book again and again whenever I feel stuck. Or I listen to the CD to get a good laugh, because Tolle reads his own words, and he must not have been happy with the sound of his own voice because he had the tape slowed down to give him a lower, more ominous pitch. It’s a little bit creepy, but surprisingly effective, and it never fails to crack me up.

5) YOGA Okay, this is beginning to sound like a list of every New Age fad you are required to believe or buy into once you start living in California; which is fair dig, since the second 25 years of my life were mostly spent there. But two decades on from my first exposure to a Kundalini Yoga class, and it’s still an essential part of my health and exercise regimen. Oh, sure, I don’t touch my toes to the floor behind my ears while lying on my back anymore or make my head come out of my ass like the guy in this picture, but that was never really what it’s about anyway. It’s moving or stretching in ways that bring (and burn) energy to those inner places (and organs) that other exercises often ignore. Yoga translates as “yoke” or union with God, or Atman.  The poses can be a form of meditation. But you don’t have to betray Jesus or buy Buddhism to benefit. I just say, “If it feels good, do it.” Namaste.

4) “AFTER ECSTASY, THE LAUNDRY” by JACK KORNFIELD Okay, so you’ve had your great moment of enlightenment, your life-shaking epiphany, your cosmic orgasm of understanding, or maybe just the LSD has worn off; what do you do for an encore? Once you’ve peeked behind the veil of mere physical existence, how can you ignore the experience long enough to function with the daily, mundane tasks and concerns this Earthly existence requires? And how do you imbue those tasks with any meaning beyond the now drearily ordinary? Why even bother? Well, I make no claims to having meditated long enough beneath a Bodhi tree to discover everlasting nirvana, but Kornfield took the fearless leap, walked the walk, and includes a bonanza of inspiring and reassuring wisdom from some masters and teachers out there who talk the talk. And who provide enormous comfort to those of us who thirst enough for insight to listen, and who are willing to let go of the ego that separates us from God and one another. This book will never leave the shelf closest to my reach.

3) ROY ORBISON Speaking of epiphanies, I’ve never seen an audience instantly levitate from their seats and respond more ecstatically than they did to k. d. lang when she channeled the spirit of Roy Orbison singing “Crying” at a tribute concert to him at the Santa Monica Civic Auditoreum in 1989 shortly after his death. Bob Dylan was there, the Byrds reunited; all the musical icons in the constellation came to pay tribute. Because Roy Oribison’s voice came from a place not of this lowly Earth; and his songs about loneliness and yearning and the sheer jubilation of when the “pretty woman” turned and walked his way can stir your heart and rip your soul. Orbison’s first success arrived during 50s, when he shared rock n’ roll’s infant airwaves on the radio with Elvis Presley. But many of us didn’t come to discover or appreciate his ethereal gift until he was re-introduced in the 1980’s through David Lynch’s use of “In Dreams” in Blue Velvet; Or Chris Isaak’s entire repertoire of Orbison-influenced songs; Or George Harrison , Dylan and Tom Petty forming the Traveling Wilburys with him; Or lang making the hairs on the goosebumps on the back of my neck stand up that magical night of ghostly-inspired music.

2) CDs, DVDs and BLU-RAY I was an early adopter for all of these superior sound and video compact media storage systems, having one of the first Sony CD player models back in 1985. I immediately began trading in my scratched and popping vinyl LP collection and never looked back (though I saved a few choice LPs for the over-sized cover art ,or for sentimental reasons). I never collected movies on VHS because it always seemed a bulky, primitive system, with tape that would tangle and a format you had to fast forward or rewind to get anywhere. I love DVDs, and now Blu-ray for the experience of convenient, relatively cheap (remember laser disks?) and superior image on the movies I treasure and watch over and over again. Younger consumers claim to be less interested in actually owning stuff like we were, and have no qualms about downloading individual songs in compressed audio quality MP3 formats, or waiting for the inevitable streaming HD movies they can play on their computer-merged television. I still relish the feel of a newspaper in my hand at a café, or a handy hardback book on my library shelf, and love to browse the titles and art on my DVD/Blu-ray collection to find exactly what suits the mood.

1) “DEADWOOD” on HBO In the immortal words of saloon/brothel owner Al Swearengen, “Any of you cocksucking motherfuckers have a problem with this?”

(Not the same performance as the tribute concert, but around the same time)

My Top 10 for the First 25

Thursday, January 7th, 2010

Columnist Michael Ventura, who writes the excellent Letters at 3AM column for The Austin Chronicle (and used to write for the L.A. Weekly), suggested this ‘exercise in know thyself’ for the New Year:  “List the Top 10 cultural artifacts that shaped you most. Be honest and unembarrassed. That’s the dare.”

Here’s mine for the first 25 years of my life:

10) MAD MAGAZINE “The usual gang of idiots” introduced me to the wonderful world of parody at an impressionable age (9-14), and showed me how to laugh out loud at the absurdities of the world and the way people behave. This was the earliest influence on my satirical brand of humor, and I have done my part to ‘pay it forward’ ever since, with no sacred cow un-tipped.

9) PERU Okay, not technically a cultural ‘artifact,’ but definitely a cultural experience that changed my life. At 17, I left a very coddled home life to spend several months as a foreign exchange student in Peru living with a family that spoke no English and lived in conditions Americans (but not Peruvians) would call poor.  Not only did it open my eyes to the wide world out there, and how other people live, but it proved to me that I could live away from home, adapt, survive and seek adventure (I spent two weeks hitchhiking through the Andes with my Peruvian mother just to go 500 miles from Lima to Cuzco and Machu Picchu). When I got back, I knew I would leave my hometown and ultimately seek my fortunes and adventures … out there.

8. STANLEY KUBRICK’S “A CLOCKWORK ORANGE” I saw this (also at 17) just before going to college at the University of Miami and it cemented my direction toward a career in film. As cinema art, this film was the perfect combination of bold story, stunning cinematography and awesome music.  The fact that it was about a 15 year-old gang member who terrorized future London with acts of rape, murder and ‘ultra-violence’ shocked audiences so much that it was banned in England for 20 years, and I remember people angrily storming out of the theatre at my first viewing. But that only inspired me more to believe in the power of film to go beyond mere entertainment and provoke a visceral response, even if it was disturbing. Now, if I had only had the good sense at the time to realize it was an extremely poor choice for a ‘date’ movie, I might have gotten luckier earlier.

7) TRAMPAS ON ‘THE VIRGINIAN’ Trampas, as played by Doug McClure on the mid-Sixties television series The Virginian, became one of my earliest role models. He was a hard-working cowhand on the Medicine Bow ranch in Wyoming in the late 1800s, but as hard as he worked, he played even harder. His joy for life was infectious, and the fact that he maintained an innocent spirit in the face of every obstacle or adversary was somehow even more appealing. I wanted to BE Trampas. Imagine my thrill when a mutual friend introduced me to Doug McClure (and his fifth wife) 18 years later at his Beverly Hills Four Seasons suite and I discovered … he WAS Trampas. We hung out and he wanted to party non-stop, and he had the attention span of a kid desperately seeking the next distraction. It was exhilarating at time, but at a burn-out pace, like a ride best enjoyed in short bursts – but that was how he was 24/7, and no doubt what contributed to his early death. So, in life, the experience that was Doug McClure totally matched Trampas. But it also taught me the potential costs of just living to do as you please from moment to moment without ever thinking about ‘the big picture.’

6) MARVEL COMICS ‘SILVER AGE’ These were the great titles from the Sixties, where Spider-Man, the Fantastic Four, Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, the Avengers, and Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandos were first introduced and became the heroes of my childhood reading. These superheroes differed from their DC counterparts like Superman or Batman because Marvel heroes had hang-ups and were emotionally vulnerable to their situations. They were more like the angst-ridden teenagers we were all becoming. My mom would stop at the local Drug Fair every week on my way to get an allergy shot so I could pick up the latest issues at 12 cents each. I collected almost every title from number 1 to number 50. This was before collecting comics in preservative bags went mainstream and rendered comic collections ever since not worth much (because they just aren’t as rare). I had X-Men No. 1, which eventually reached auction prices up to a staggering $18,000. I sometimes wonder what my entire Marvel collection would have been worth today and where I could have retired comfortably to for having sold them now. But I sold the entire collection for about $400 during my freshman year in college to buy an awesome pair of speakers … which I still listen to today. So, at least in some way, though I’ve grown past my comics age, they are still entertaining me.

5) PLAYBOY MAGAZINE At the same time comics began losing some of their steam, my libido was quickly swelling with it.  I can still remember buying my first Playboy at the Aspen Hill 7/11 at age 15. To accomplish this extremely intimidating feat at the time for an underage kid, I also purchased a comic book for me … and a “To Dad” birthday card. It was a brilliant strategy. And Playboy offered the ultimate male fantasy of life that every James Bond-loving teenager could imagine; filled with high tech gadgets, sexy cars and naked women. And since this was before video, you had the advantage of never having to listen to these bimbos actually speak to ruin the fantasy. The very first writing job I was ever paid for in Los Angeles was creating potential cable television specials for Playboy Enterprises. What a fantastic gig! I even ran out and bought a great silk bathrobe just like Hef would wear. But then I found out I was not to be invited to the Playboy Mansion because the 50 year-old has-been actors who hung out there didn’t want any competition for the 22 year-old playmates from guys the same age as the girls who could relate better and keep their ‘attention’ up longer. Now that I’m in my 50’s, the invention of Viagra doesn’t make that predatory scenario any more appealing or less creepy. But Playboy and I were both born the same year, and it still holds a nostalgic value for what I yearned for as a horny young kid, and what I’ve evolved to be as a horny old man. But if Playboy ever wants to get its former readers back, it should stop featuring playmates shaved bare, which makes anyone lusting after them feel like a pedophile.

4) EDGAR ALLAN POE Long before there was Playboy (around age 7), there was the melancholy of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories and poems. Maybe it was the women of Playboy that later cured this melancholy. But I believe every young kid is either born with, or experiences a period or tinge of melancholy. Perhaps when we first discover that people – and people we know or love (such as ourselves) can actually die. Or maybe it’s just genetic. But Poe speaks to that dread in all of us in a language dripping with melancholy in all of its manifestations – and perhaps helping us to purge some of it at the same time. I can’t say I was obsessed with Poe as a young reader, but I read everything he wrote many times, and I knew that he died and was buried in the very city (Baltimore) that I was born. So I rode that tenuous connection through a lonely period of my youth where everything unspeakable and unfathomable to what my normal Leave it to Beaver home life was really like, spoke to me from the other side.

3) “ROCKET MAN” BY ELTON JOHN/BERNIE TAUPIN If there is a song that best describes that melancholy born of the ultimate aloneness we all … share, it has to be Rocket Man; which, to me, in 1972, was an instant revelation of what a fantastical mood, melody and lyric could produce. What budding creative artist would not feel an affinity to the metaphorical lyric of being a space explorer as your regular gig, nine to five? Of sometimes feeling like you’re ‘burning out my fuse up here alone?’ I heard Elton sing that one phrase over and over again as he improvised his way through a stunning, extended version of the song live at the L.A. Amphitheatre in 1979, and the autobiographical depth of the song hit like a ton of bricks. Elton may be gayer than Richard Simmons with a pink curling iron at a hair salon, but never forget that hetero cowboy Bernie Taupin writes the lyrics. Elton is merely the melody, and he always does melancholy better than anyone (just start with Candle in the Wind, Funeral for Friend, Daniel, and Sacrifice for beginners). Taupin articulates the mood by writing the lyrics first, and Elton later interprets it to a melody. My mom’s generation had Rodgers and Hammerstein for this perfect synergy of talents. We have Reg Dwight and Bernie Taupin.

2) THE OUTER LIMITS While we’re on the subject of melancholy and outer space, how about the most original and never equaled version of gothic horror science fiction to ever air on television? This show has influenced more creators in the field of science fiction media than anyone (except perhaps number 1 below). James Cameron copped the episode “Soldier” to create The Terminator. Alan Moore’s Watchmen stole the whole premise from”The Architects of Fear” (but at least acknowledged it). This show terrified me for the two meager seasons it aired from 1962-63 (and my son 47 years later), and I adored every minute. So much so that I later wrote the writer Joseph Stefano to thank him for his fantastic work and influence, and I even called the composer Dominic Frontiere in his Beverly Hills home from my college apartment in Miami to rave to him about his beautiful, haunting themes. Skip the revived version of the show that could never capture the perfect B&W film noir of the original, which added to the mood. But remember the ‘control voice,’ which reminded us over and over that our very next experience would be beyond our control. Shit, was he ever right.

1) ROD SERLING AND “THE TWILIGHT ZONE” Okay, so I watched a lot of television as a kid, and still do. But here was the single greatest inspiration for me to pursue a career in writing for television or film. Rod Serling wrote about soulful, important, moral issues with an unbridled imagination that often disguised their target or impact but, ultimately, never their human message. These 156 timeless episodes of The Twilight Zone are nothing more than the Aesop’s Fables for our generation; the moral nuggets covered with a chocolate mystery surprise that delight our taste buds, but also nourish our souls. Who else in 1962, before the Civil Rights Act was ever passed, could get away with a story on national television where a black man unjustly convicted is to be hung at dawn … and the sun never comes up? Or my favorite episode, Walking Distance, where a super-stressed man from now somehow takes a train ride back through time to the idyllic town of his youth, confronts the trouble-free kid version of himself, tries desperately to reconnect to him on a carousel and stumbles, is warned by his own father back then that there’s “only one summer to a customer,” and returns to the present newly crippled from the experience. Nostalgia CAN cripple our ability to live in the now and to look forward in our lives no matter how hard we want to avoid the stresses we face every day. But every once and a while, like this list or yours, we just need to go there.

Later … Top 10 for the Next 25 (the grown up years)

That old black (& white) magic

Wednesday, October 7th, 2009

Whenever I hear someone say they can’t watch a black & white movie or television show, I cringe … with pity. No student, lover or fan of cinema ignores the 50 plus years of artistry and lighting evolution that went into perfecting the black & white image on film … before color became the common palette.  And all that brilliant contrast of light and dark went the way of that gold dust blowing away into the wind at the end of Treasure of the Sierra Madre.

Citizen Kane.  The Third Man.  The Maltese Falcon.  Casablanca. Strangers On a Train. Night of the Hunter. I’m sure you have favorites. And it wasn’t the lack of technology that made these classics black & white.  Color was around long before Dorothy landed on the Yellow Brick Road in 1939. In these and many other films, it was often the artistic choice of the director or cinematographer.

Many directors more recently have tried to recapture that look. Peter Bogdonavich with The Last Picture Show in 1971. Robert Rodriguez with Sin City in 2007. And even Hitchcock revisited it as late as 1960 with Psycho.  The very translation of the classic style of Film Noir is Film “Black.” Black as night. Full of inky black and veiled gray shadows, in alleys and across faces. There’s just nothing quite like it in color.

Especially for horror.

I wondered if my young son would ever watch black & white, let alone come to appreciate the gothic style horror lighting so perfected in black & white long before his time and even long before mine.

A few years ago, when my son was seven years old, he collected Yu-Gi-Oh bubble gum cards that included ‘monster’ cards. They reminded me of cards I collected as a kid from a science fiction horror TV anthology series in the early 1960’s called The Outer Limits. Each week a disembodied ‘control voice’ took over your television set and introduced a gothic-style horror or science fiction story with new characters, and featuring at least one new monster.

Because this was 1963 and most television sets could only play black & white, the show was filmed and broadcast in black & white. But this was the ‘perfected’ black & white shot by a master cinematographer (Conrad Hall), who would later go on to win Academy Awards. I was only about eight years old when the show first aired and I remember that it scared me out of my wits. I went to bed every Friday night with nightmares, and yet I couldn’t wait until the next Friday to have some new ones. Perhaps this was the beginning of an adrenaline addiction. I just know I wanted to be scared silly, and The Outer Limits never failed to do the job.

So I retrieved the treasured deck of monster cards I had collected back in 1963 to show my son. Each card featured a hideous creature from one of the episodes. There was the bug-eyed alien with the razor sharp boomerang from “Fun and Games;” the shimmering, negative image radioactive man from “The Galaxy Being;” and the one that gave me the worst nightmares of all … the over-sized crawling ants with human-like faces known as “The Zanti Misfits.” In this episode, these insect monsters crawled out of their spacecraft atop a military post headquarters in a deserted Western town named “Morgue” and attacked everyone in sight. I couldn’t sleep for weeks.

I went straight to my DVD box collection of the original series and put the episode on to show “The Zanti Misfits” in action. My son took one look at the rather primitive animation of the ants crawling out of their cheap, tin-looking aircraft and immediately scoffed in ridicule, “That’s not scary.”

I was crushed. What could be more terrifying than loudly buzzing, over-sized ants with human-like faces crawling up your leg and biting you with poisonous teeth?

I cued up another episode called, “The Mice,” that featured what appeared to be a man on two legs covered from head to waist with a huge blob of snot-like gelatinous material with two protruding, claw-like hands. It was obviously a man in a costume fitted with a huge glob of fake jelly slapped on top.

He watched this ‘Jelly Man’ picking up lake scum with its claws and stuffing it in what appeared to be a slit-like mouth. He watched the Jelly Man running through a forest back to a laboratory. He watched the Jelly Man use its claws to attack and kill one of the workers in the laboratory where the creature had first been transported to Earth. And he watched as they eventually captured and sent it back to the planet it came from in the same transporter. And that was it. No major reactions from my son. But somehow he couldn’t take his eyes off of the Jelly Man until he had seen its final moment on screen.

That same night he insisted his mom come and lay down with him in his bed when he prepared to go to sleep. He told her to leave the closet light on. And when he finally and fitfully fell to sleep, his mother came out to the living room with a sour look that and scolded me for scaring him with the ‘Jelly Man.’ She went to bed mad as hell. And, as soon as the bedroom door slammed closed, I found myself grinning from ear to ear.

An old black & white TV show that had scared me as a kid more than 40 years ago could still scare a kid today.

It may have been the ‘Jelly Man’ and not the human-faced crawling ants with poisonous teeth, but it still counted. That old black & white mojo still worked.

I shouldn’t be proud about scaring my son with this stuff, but when he so easily scoffed at one of my most powerful childhood fears with, “That’s not scary,” well, I couldn’t help but feel glibly vindicated. And so I grinned.

And a week later he was still insisting on sleeping with the lights on in the closet and secretly talking about the ‘Jelly Man’ to his mom (but never admitting his fear to dad, of course).  I apologize to him to this day. I’m deeply sorry.

But wait until he sees the episode with the space rocks that come alive and cover your face with smothering black goo.

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em dept: *

Friday, August 28th, 2009

*(See previous post)

Here’s what’s on my DVR series manager for the summer of 2009 …

Mad Men on AMC

Meticulous.  Story. Characters.  Details.  Slow for some. A powder keg of intriguing personalities and agendas for others. I listened to commentaries by creator/writer Matthew Weiner on the second season Blu-ray and couldn’t believe the attention to detail for every set, costume, or prop. Even the weather has to be right to match a day an event occurred if it is used in the story, such as the rain on the East Coast the day our country and the Soviet Union faced mutual nuclear annihilation during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis. As a seven-year old kid growing up outside of ground zero in the nation’s capital, I remember the weather that day, too – ominous, scared-to-death, cloudy, and with a heavy chance of me peeing my pants.

Entourage on HBO

Here’s a show that jumped the shark after the second season. It’s still occasionally amusing, but the character arcs throughout this series are a flat line. Vince, Eric, Turtle and Johnny Drama haven’t evolved one self-aware inch as human beings, and yet the ruthless talent agent prick, Ari Gold, has. This development clearly tells me this show is now … pure fantasy science fiction.

Hung on HBO

Goofy premise and title, but stick around and this show penetrates, um, much deeper than you might expect. While trying to rebuild his life and finances, Ray, the well-endowed high school coach, discovers some previously unrevealed truths in the relationship between men and women. But one thing left unrevealed … is his dong, despite the fact there are plenty of boobs displayed. This is probably a contractual requirement as a lead-in for the testosterone-heavy and homophobic young male demographics of Entourage. But the idea that Ray could earn any riches as a male prostitute solely for women tells me this show is … pure fantasy science fiction.

Mystery Diagnosis on ?

I can’t watch this show because, as an empathetic writer-type, I’m afraid I’ll start developing the symptoms of the patient involved – and those conditions are pretty damn weird and extreme. My wife watches this show in earnest belief that we’ll find a cure for our own chronic medical issues. But unless we’re suddenly growing a second head through our left collar bone, that’s unlikely. Still, we probably have a better shot at a useful diagnosis here than from the barely two minutes face time we get from our general practitioners.

Real Time with Bill Maher on HBO

This show is a great divider. On one side … anyone with an IQ above their body temperature who keeps up with news, politics, and favors a rational approach before spouting an opinion. On the other side … the usual fear-mongering, hate, paranoia and ignorance group. Okay, not fair, but Maher is, at least, an equal opportunity offender when mocking the clueless extreme right, the ball-less left, and even God above. I don’t happen to share his professed atheism – I give God the benefit of my doubt, but I absolutely defend Maher’s right to offend … if it’s funny. In my bible, good humor from an active mind absolves bad sins from a mocking mouth.

Nurse Jackie on Showtime

Here we have another medical type show I usually avoid. But the writing and acting is a defibrillator to the quality-entertainment-starved portion of my brain. And I love the theme of a nurse (Edie Falco) using extreme measures to maintain her sanity within the daily onslaught of a war zone emergency room. Faced with these traumas, I would probably snort crushed Percocets and have spontaneous extra-marital sex with the pharmacist in the supply closet, too.

Weeds on Showtime 

Here’s another show that bubbled out of the bong after the second season. How do you go from a sly little parody about cookie cutter life in the suburbs with a widow who sells a little weed to get by, to this over-the-top cartoon about the pistol-packing gringa wife of a Mexican drug kingpin running for governor? Just smoke the same righteous Sensimilla the writers do.

True Blood on HBO

I watch this camp orgy of sex and blood on HBO and can’t help realize how far we’ve come since the very tame afternoon vampire soap opera Dark Shadows in the late 60’s. Barnabas Collins would grow pale (well, pale-er) and hide under his cape faced with this level of depravity. Or maybe he’d just come OUT of his cape, considering how fey and repressed he was for a vampire in the first place. But with original lines like the following from the gay, vampire-blood-selling bartender Lafayette when he was uncharacteristically praying, how can you resist? “Jesus and I agreed to see different people, but that doesn’t mean we don’t talk once in a while.”

Rescue Me on FX

This show has no discernable narrative. I have no idea where it’s going, and neither, I think, does the show. It’s just a bunch of noble but lamebrain NYC firefighters shooting the bull and mercilessly punking each other for extended bits either in the break room, a bar, or on the scene after putting out a fire. Fortunately, at least one of those bits each week is fucking hysterical. And who knew that some of the tastiest roles for hot actresses to show off serious acting chops would appear in the middle of this testosterone-filled circle jerk? Denis Leary is as old as I am, but he attracts so much pussy here it tells me this show has reached the five alarm bell for … pure fantasy science fiction.

 

There are no major network shows in the queue because it’s summer rerun season and, besides, once you eliminate all medical shows, Law & Order spinoffs and CSI clones, there’s nothing left on prime time anyway … except really embarrassing reality shows. And just keep this in mind: Every time you watch a reality show, you put a few more REALLY starving actors and writers out of work. Except, of course, for the underpaid-under-the-table writer hacks who make up all the storylines, personality conflicts and one-liners you watch on those ‘reality’ shows.

TiVo killed the water cooler star

Tuesday, August 25th, 2009

“Hey, d’ja see Lost last night?”

“Got it on DVR. Don’t tell me anything.”

“Oh.”

End of discussion.

Repeat the same scene for every buzz-worthy series running on television. The only thing now missing is the buzz itself. It was born at the water cooler, or on the message boards, or anywhere else viewers gather to salivate over the events of the preceding evening.

Nowadays, you don’t want to kill someone else’s potential buzz for an episode with a spoiler or by dangling a tease for an event they haven’t seen yet, so you kill your own buzz instead. Well, you don’t actually ‘kill,’ it. More like you put it away for a future discussion with that person when they’ve seen the same episode. But by that time, of course, the bloom is off the rose, your buzz has faded. They may still be excited, but the full potential for buzz is gone. Your attitude is now, “been there, done that.” You’ve already watched the next three or four shows that you can’t talk about.

There’s a way out of this mess, of course. It demands great courage and sacrifice. You will risk alienating everyone you ever talked with about a show. Well, actually, you’re going to piss them off … royally. But some things just have to be done to save us all.

Go ahead and spill the beans.

“Can you believe they actually killed Jack Bauer off on 24 last night?!”

Don’t even wait to find out whether they TiVo’ed  or DVR-ed the show or not. Twitters tweet your tattletale.

“Those obnoxious ex-cheerleaders were eliminated on The Amazing Race last night.  How sweet is that?”

Go ahead and toss that grenade.

“Omigod, how awesome was that Battlestar Galactica finale where they ended up …in EARTH’S past!”

Take no prisoners.

“Don and Betty Draper die in a car crash together on the way to Woodstock trying to rekindle their marriage! How fucked up a finale is that?” 

Shoot to kill.

The only thing you risk rubbing out is TiVo itself.

Sure, everybody will soon run the other way before your jaw opens – but only if they DVR-ed the show instead of actually watching it. And if you use the media message boards, there’s nowhere for them to run or hide. They won’t even be able to visit a related site. They will have to hide from all personal, online and media contact like a culturally-starved pariah. And, eventually, your friends, co-workers, and fellow message boarders will come to realize that the only way they can possibly continue to participate in our society at all … is to watch the damn show the first night it’s on.

And once we’ve carefully re-programmed everyone to behave that way again, you will be able to blurt out any spoiler you want at the water cooler or online, and get an equal burst of raw excitement and shared energy in return.

The buzz will be back.