The Brew That is True

From The Court Jester.

Note the presence of Jessica Fletcher and Kevin Spacey's mother from The Ref.

Hazzard-ous Thinking

“How’d you like to spend the night in the Morgue?” – One of them Duke boys to the other.

Yes, The Rued Morgue has hit an all-time low by pontificating on not only The Dukes of Hazzard, but also a straight-to-DVD Hazzard movie. It’s not too late to back out if you choose.

Like many a dude my age, I spent a lot of time watching the Duke boys thwart Boss Hogg and Sheriff Rosco back in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. Now don’t get me wrong – I didn’t enjoy those countless misspent hours, but the show was sandwiched between The Incredible Hulk and Dallas. What was I to do? Friday night TV was all about that CBS block of programming and I was just goin’ with the flow. (Check out this programming grid from 1980 to see the even lamer alternatives. Bear in mind – I was 9.)

And so two years ago prevailing nostalgia mixed with a smattering of grim fascination led me to the movie theatre with buddy Bart (who’s my age and went through the same routines back in the day) and then 12-year old son Jake (for whom I’d screened a few of the TV installments so he’d have an idea of what not to expect). What might Jessica Simpson bring to the legacy of Dukedom? Needless to say, both Bart and I were totally annoyed by the entire affair. What was mildly surprising is that even Jake, based on what little he’d seen of the original, thought the retread was weak.

The real problem with that film is a matter of simple character dynamics. It ignored the basic formula that worked for years: Bo, Luke and Daisy Duke (John Schneider, Tom Wopat and Catherine Bach), despite being good ol’ country bumpkins, were actually pretty sharp individuals. Their smarts and skills came in handy when foiling the typically ridiculous plans of Boss Hogg (Sorrell Booke) and Sheriff Coltrane (James Best) – both of whom were comical numbnuts[1].

The movie reversed this entirely by making the Dukes a couple of idiotic buffoons – presumably to play up on the comedic “talents” of stars Seann William Scott & Johnny Knoxville. By contrast, Burt Reynolds’ Hogg and M.C. Gainey’s Coltrane were ruthless villains who weren’t even remotely amusing or fun to watch. The third of the film’s offenses was the recreation of Daisy into a vapid bimbo who had only one thing to rely on—wait a minute…make that two things. If you were ever any kind of Hazzard devotee, chances are you hated this film, too. But I don’t think the movie was made for people like me. Indeed the casting suggests otherwise and the film’s box office take (over $80 mill!) and popularity proved that you can’t keep a good Duke down, no matter how shitty the material.

Which leads me to the straight-to-DVD prequel, unoriginally titled The Dukes of Hazzard: The Beginning. Hopefully you are wondering: Did he actually rent this shitty movie and if so, why? Yes I did and because two words hit like lightning bolts to the head upon seeing the DVD cover: Blog Entry.

But it turns out that The Beginning is not really a shitty movie -- or least not nearly as shitty as its predecessor, a fact that quite frankly floored me. Its overall tone has far more in common with the original series and it’s actually got the vague semblance of something that looks like a script, which is about the most that can be asked given the material that inspired it.

It mind-bogglingly gets some things very correct. One of them is the casting of Harland Williams as Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane. If you know Harland Williams, you know that there’s no way in Hazzard Hell his Coltrane is anything like M. C. Gainey’s -- an actor, by the way, whom I generally (General Lee?) like. But I like Harland for very different reasons and he was an inspired choice, although he’s admittedly something of an acquired taste. He’s a weird comic actor whose shtick is pretty much unlike anyone else’s (one of his great performances was the whacked-out hitchhiker Ben Stiller picked up in There’s Something About Mary and before that there was Half Baked…). If you like Williams, you will like his Coltrane, regardless of whatever else you may think of the movie. It may even be worth the price of admission alone to watch him attempt all manner of weirdness whilst perpetually holding onto a basset hound puppy (the young Flash), and a DVD bonus feature centered around Williams may be more entertaining than the movie itself.

Second on the roster of semi-rightness is April Scott’s Daisy Duke. Unlike what was written for Simpson she actually has (gasp!) a character with which to work. As this is an origin story of sorts, Daisy’s supposed to be virginal and chaste in the first half -- which is portrayed in the typically banal Hollywood fashion of dressing her in loose-fitting clothing, pony-tailed hair and nerdy eyeglasses, all of which completely fail to disguise the hottie-in-waiting beneath. When she finally dons her tight-fittin’ jeanshorts, the results owe far more to Catherine Bach than the ex-Mrs. Lachey. Make no mistake – Scott’s in no danger of having to carve out time to polish an Oscar in the foreseeable future, but then again Bach was hardly Meryl Streep. Daisy is as Daisy does and at least this Daisy’s got long brown locks to match her long tanned legs. Those hoping to get a glimpse of Scott in the buff will have to look elsewhere.

Joel Moore’s Cooter bears no resemblance to Ben Jones’ character from the series, and yet I couldn’t help but dig on what this guy was doing. He’s projects a genuine sort of "redneck eccentricity" and delivers dialogue that would’ve fallen flat coming out of a lesser actor’s mouth. You might remember Moore as the main character’s best bud Bardo in Art School Confidential. I’ve not seen much of this guy’s other work, but I predict he’s headed for much bigger places within the next couple years.

So where does the film go wrong? The movie smacks of two film worlds colliding: Hazzard county circa 1981 were it invaded by a sorority party from your average modern teen sex comedy. I viewed the unrated version, which features a fair amount of exposed tit and ass, none of which advance the “plot”. Normally I’d say the more the merrier, but in this case it smacks of gratuitousness. I’d hazard a guess that the R-rated version is actually a better Dukes movie if you’re looking for fare that might take you back in time rather than keeping you in the here and now. But if you're just looking for rampant, exposed sweater meat, you should probably check out the unrated cut.

In between what the movie gets right and wrong is everything else. Relative unknowns Jonathan Bennett and Randy Wayne play Bo and Luke respectively (and a quick glance at their IMDB profiles oddly reveals their hair colors were reversed for the movie). They’re both just sorta there, and do what they’re called upon to do, which is be Duke boys. It’s too easy to romanticize what Schneider and Wopat did back in the day, and such idealization only comes from years of amassed screentime. These new guys get all of 90 minutes to make an impression -- at their best they help erase the stink of the Bo and Luke from the theatrical outing.

Christopher McDonald, forever cast as the smarmy asshole, plays a decent Hogg. His portrayal exists in a sort of neverwhere between Reynolds and Booke: sometimes he’s ruthless and smart and other times he’s a total boob. He’s at least been given a bit of tubby padding to accentuate his Hoggness, however I remain stymied by the continued failure to just cast a fat guy in the role. Surely this is a no-brainer, right? Perhaps the biggest surprise was the presence of little Miss Audrey Horne herself, Sherilyn Fenn, as Hogg’s oversexed MILF of a wife Lulu who subs for Stifler's Mom. I’d be tempted to apply “What a desperate actor will do for money” to Fenn, if not for the fact Willie Nelson wins that award. Uncle Jesse is the lone link to the '05 movie -- proof that anyone can get Willie for their movie if the price is right.

Above all else, due credit’s got to be given to screenwriter Shane Morris, whose IMDB resume reveals the film as his only credit. The guy is either a fan or did a fair amount of homework and for the most part gets the series’ mythology (so to speak) right. In fact, one of the script’s twists involves the reveal of the concealed lineage of a particular character – but viewers who know their Duke trivia will see it coming. (It cannot be stressed enough exactly how low my expectations were going into this thing.) He also peppers the script with one down home colloquialism after another – some work, some don’t, but he probably did his best given what he had to work with. I’d imagine most of the titty action was even shoehorned into the script over the course of various meetings with producers and the like, as it tends to lack the focus of the rest of the movie.

[1] An inane, useless, “allow me to split the world into two categories” theory: There are two types of people who watched The Dukes of Hazzard – the type who tuned in for Bo, Luke and Daisy and the type who tuned in for the amazing comic double-act of Hogg and Rosco; I was always in the second category. It’s possible there’s a third category who tuned in for the plots, but I’d like to believe natural selection has taken care of them and they no longer exist.

And now, for those of you who've stuck with me through this ordeal, here's a completely gratuituous shot of April Scott sans her Daisy Dukes:


(I hunted for sexy pics of Harland Williams for the ladies, but alas they were nowhere to be found.)

The Rued Manifesto

UPDATED!

The cats at Liverputty are currently inviting select bloggers to submit "manifestos", which strikes me as brave and bold given where it could end up. (I expect government intervention at any time.) The concept is as it sounds:

manifesto, n.: A public declaration of principles, policies, or intentions, especially of a political nature.

Wagstaff created the first Manifesto over a year ago. It stood strong, proud and solitary for ages -- mostly, I believe, because it intimidated the crap out of anyone who read it.

Earlier this month The Dude, feeling crushed for nearly 12 months by the sheer weight of Wag's mantra, unveiled a whole new way of living life on this sordid rock.

Days later, EscutcheonBlot provided a European point of view. E.B. predicted stupid American after another would chime in. As ideas are global and all, this was a wise move.

By now, momentum had built and the blogosphere was reaching a boiling point.

And then a certain solid waste hit a certain spinning device attached to a certain ceiling when -- yep, you guessed it: The Odienator told it like it really was. If you are reading this at work and can't afford public embarrassment, I recommend checking out Odie's thoughts at home. There you can self-flagellate in private, finally seeing the error of your many ways, bitch.

On Monday, Edward Copeland seemingly announced, "Fuck this. You guys haven't a clue" by inferring everyone else had been far too lenient in their declarations. There are many lessons you've yet to learn, grasshopper; I'll save you the trouble on one: Don't screw with Ethel Merman fans -- ever.

Thinking I might provide a pompous document worth heckling or poking varieties of holes into, and a talkback that could appear impressive due to my pathetic, numerous rebuttals, Liverputty invited yours truly to join the project.

Today The Rued Manifesto makes its debut at Liverputty. Personally, I think it's soft and flabby compared to those who laid the groundwork. My biggest problem is that I'm too nice a guy and I let everyone slide (which I realize as I type, should have been part of the Manifesto).

You dear readers are my judge and jury -- but take serious issue with anything I have to say[1], and you're invited to piss off and get your free entertainment from either FoxNews or Rotten.com...'cuz last time I checked your name wasn't on any paycheck to be found in my mailbox.

Cherish or ignore it (I don't give a fuck either way): behold The Rued Manifesto.

UPDATED!

The latest from the Liverputty Manifestival...

Charlie Parsley's Menufesto: Read the most bizarre manifesto yet -- the one to which I could only respond "Baz Luhrmann needs to write a tune to go along with [this]".

Jeffrey's Manifesto: King Liverputty himself has finally taken the leap. Most fascinating is the intro -- a breakdown of each previous manifesto into percentages of what he agreed and disagreed with along the way! The Rued Manifesto scored "Agree – 55%; Disagree – 26%; Don’t Know – 19%" on the Jeffometer; Parsley's Menufesto, however, scored a Disagree - 100%!

Lastly, be sure to check out the comments section of this entry to see Sheik Yerbootie's Manifesto, which contains this priceless gem: Watching movies in a theatre is an exercise in futility. Oh, the horror!!!

[1] The "Aunt Bee" comment is negotiable.

Wet Pussy in Heat

I have a burning desire that's really more of a cruel mean streak: I crave the exciting rush of dousing a neighborhood cat in heat with a pail of cold water. Any horny cat will do.

We have them all the time around our house, usually late at night. Presumably they hang around our place because of our cats. I don't know much about horny cats - can they even tell if other cats they're crying at are male or female? (I've got one of each outside and a third male who's totally indoor.) Because ours are all fixed they tend to somewhat quizzically stare at these screeching creatures. When confronted by these obnoxious beasts, my cats think, "Get over yourself" or "I'm not the 'droid you're looking for". I suspect that even they would love to see me fulfill my wet dream.

And believe me, I've tried. But cats in heat are more skittish than your average cat, and no matter how hard I've tried or to what lengths I've gone -- preparing pans full of water, carrying them out in to the night with a flashlight in the other hand -- I always fucking miss. Sure, they go away after mission impossible has failed yet again, but that's clearly not enough for me.

Understand, I am not intrinsically a cruel man and obviously I'm a massive cat lover...well, I love my cats anyway. Cats are like kids: You love and adore your own and want the world for them, but most everyone else's are big pains in the ass and not even remotely charming or cute.

The Morgue is now taking suggestions as to how I can accomplish my mission. Please don't suggest the water hose. That would be cheating -- like gunning down a deer with a .22 rifle. The pail and water is my bow and arrow, you see. There's a certain amount of skill involved here and after years of failure, I want to bask in a feeling of well-deserved success.

Planet Earth on Discovery

Tonight the Discovery Channel broadcasts the first 3 episodes of the 11-part BBC produced series, Planet Earth, narrated by Sigourney Weaver.

Just. Tune. In.

I get into nature documentaries about as much as the next guy, but since Jeanne received her review copies a couple weeks ago, this thing has become an obsession for me. Luckily she wrote a fantastic review for the 'Spress-News, so I don't have to. "Luckily" I say because the series tends to leave me speechless. I'm not sure how to put into words the sheer number of mind-boggling sights that have been captured by High-Def cameras for this series -- you kinda just have to tune in and see them for yourself. (The series plays on Discovery HD Theater as well, so if you've got that channel, you know what to do.)

The image above is from the "Caves" episode. It's a diver exploring an underwater cave in Mexico and the still photo doesn't do justice to the moving images you'll actually see in that sequence. Click here for an episode guide and schedule for all five weekends. (Even though it isn't listed, I think Discovery may do an all-day marathon of the series on Apr. 22nd leading up to the last two installments.)

A DVD box set available in standard def as well as both HD DVD & Blu-Ray is set for release on Apr. 24th. It will contain all manner of cool extra footage, but it will also be the original BBC version which was narrated by David Attenborough.

So if you're a fan of Ms. Weaver, the Discovery broadcasts may be your only chance to hear her spin on the narration.

Doctor Who: Animating The Invasion

George Lucas continually tinkers around with his Star Wars movies. Paramount recently began revamping the effects work for each episode of classic Star Trek. Now it’s Doctor Who’s turn to present its take on reimagining the past.

Two weeks ago saw the milestone R1 DVD release of the 1968 story "The Invasion". The 8-part serial has been missing the visuals for a fourth of its episodes – Parts One & Four – since the BBC scrapped huge chunks of the Doctor’s ‘60s adventures years ago. Why you may ask? Nobody foresaw the eventual resale value of the series, and back in the day Auntie Beeb wasn’t all that keen on reruns. Thankfully, obsessive Whovians date back to the beginning, when pockets of industrious fans presciently recorded the show’s audio every Saturday afternoon.

Enter animation house Cosgrove Hall, cleaned-up fan-recorded audio tapes, and a current demand for Doctor Who surpassing any other period in the Time Lord’s long history: "The Invasion" is complete once again – six episodes of crisp, restored black & white goodness interspersed with two animated episodes that are as close to what’s missing as anyone can currently hope to see.

"The Invasion" was an ideal selection for the experiment.

For starters, it features the Cybermen, and since the Senators of Steel have enjoyed a resurgence, they’re an obvious draw for people looking to feed their Who addiction. Furthering that logic, "The Invasion" was a huge inspiration for the recent "Rise of the Cybermen/The Age of Steel" two-parter, which restored the Mondasian Marchers to their former glory.

Also, it’s a pretty damn good yarn -- which is no faint praise for a tale clocking in at nearly 3 ½ hours. Yet any ‘60s TV sci-fi of that duration must have problematic areas, right? The events encompassing the first four episodes could easily fit into half the running time. As a result, animating Episodes One and Four elevates material that might be considered a tad sluggish into something new and exciting -- and the kicker is that they’re animated in black & white! By the time a Cyberman bursts from its cocoon for Part Four’s cliffhanger, the proceedings kick into a higher gear and the final four parts move with a pretty intense momentum (well, by late-‘60s Who standards anyway).

Lastly, any excuse to serve eight episodes of Patrick Troughton on silver platters is more than OK by me. Back when the BBC took to scrapping ‘60s Who, Troughton’s era was hit the hardest: Only a single story ("The Tomb of the Cybermen") from his first two seasons exists in its entirety. His third and final season, however, exists as nearly complete[1], and this DVD brings the season that much closer to its original dramatic vision.

The story in brief: The Doctor and Co. arrive in present-day London (i.e. the late ‘60s/early ‘70s), realize a corporation called International Electromatics is up to no good (similar to Cybus Industries from the recent two-parter), and before long Cybermen are popping up all over the place. The most notable difference from the David Tennant outing (aside from the lack of an alternate universe setting) is IE’s head honcho, Tobias Vaughn (superbly played by Kevin Stoney): Unlike John Lumic, he isn’t creating Cybermen, but rather working with them to take over Earth. When the plan sours, Vaughn dedicates his final actions toward revenge against the “uninteresting metal men” [2]. The story also set up the Jon Pertwee-era template by reintroducing Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart (Nicholas Courtney), unveiling UNIT and testing the waters for a series set in a contemporary Earthbound setting – it could be argued that it’s a major ancestor of the current series. "The Invasion" paved the way for ‘70s Doctor Who and as such is something of a benchmark.

Due to the massive success of this DVD (it sold bucketloads in the UK), many a fan is calling for more -- and with good reason: If this was the test run, then the sky’s the limit. There’s no reason the other 106 missing episodes couldn’t, over time, be animated in the same manner. Indeed, many feel "The Invasion’s" animated segments engage more than the original taped episodes! One can only assume the Cosgrove Hall team (as well as Mark Ayres’ exceptional audio restorations) will only get better as they move forward[3].

I’d like to see a few more trial runs via completing stories that exist in "Invasion"-like limbos before aiming for completely lost epics such as "The Power of the Daleks" or "Marco Polo". The next logical choice would be "The Tenth Planet" -- William Hartnell’s final story. The four-parter introduced the Cybermen to the series and lacks only one episode: Part Four -- in which the Doctor regenerated for the very first time; the Cosgrove Hall animators would have a field day with that sequence.

The problem with a lot of ‘60s Who is that it’s often very slow. I challenge anyone to watch all six episodes of "The Seeds of Death" without at some point screaming at their TV, “Get the fuck on with it already!!” There are even parts of "The Invasion" that could benefit from some simple audio editing. As wonderful as "The Invasion" results are, what would viewing an entire animated adventure feel like? A unique situation has arisen.

Let’s take, for instance, Troughton’s "Fury from the Deep" – six episodes, all lost and considered a missing classic. I once tried to listen to an audiotape release and admittedly didn’t get all the way through it (but the novelization rocked!). Would animating a nearly 2 ½ hour serial be the thrill ride it sounds? 2 ½ hours with pacing dictated by low-budget ‘60s TV constraints?? This is borderline heresy, but what if the audio was edited into a tighter form retaining the meat of the material and was then animated? What if "Fury from the Deep" was better with a 1 hour and 45 minute running time? One of many ongoing jokes about old Doctor Who involves the endless running around corridors. Episodes had to be 25 minutes, and sometimes padding was required to make the half hour each week. Why animate corridor scenes with banal dialogue? Why not cut [to] the chase? Because then you’re mucking about with a legacy, and there’ll inevitably be an uproar when somebody (or likely many bodies) shouts that history is being rewritten. But isn’t animating this stuff in the first place already a rewrite of sorts? How about the cost of animating minute upon minute of boring filler material? What about the probability that it may actually be more cost effective to produce a better and more engaging story with a shorter running time?

Animating the missing "Invasion" parts in black & white and in full was a smart first move – they match the other six episodes, offer up the nearest to what's been lost and please all but the most anal fan. But when it comes time to animate a full story, why not go for color? (It’s hardly comparable to Turnerizing It’s a Wonderful Life.) Is that too messing with history?

Another classic in need of an overhaul is Hartnell’s "The Celestial Toymaker" (Michael "Alfred" Gough guests as the titular baddie), a four-parter missing its first three installments. Here’s a story that not only begs to be animated in color, but should probably even have its final episode animated as well (present the original Part Four as an “extra”). Why view three episodes of slick cartoons only to end on a clunky black and white finale? Where does reverence for original material end and presenting the most engaging DVD begin?

This animating of missing Doctor Who has opened up a slew of possibilities that all need to be explored before just going for the obvious slavish devotion to history. And with eyes focused on the future, what exactly is history? Aren’t all the missing episodes currently (in the slang usage of the term) “history”?

[1] Aside from the two missing parts of "The Invasion", Troughton’s final season lacks only five episodes of the six-parter "The Space Pirates". Based on the narrative quality of Part Two (recently released in the "Lost in Time" DVD collection), we aren’t missing out on much.

[2] Credit due to Sheik Yerbootie for the phrase “uninteresting metal men”. I’ve been unable to shake the description since he first coined it.

[3] Credit must also be given to The Restoration Team (of which Mark Ayres is a member). Without all the fine work these guys have done restoring Doctor Who episodes from all eras to their former glory, it’s doubtful this animated revolution would even be happening. Further details on the DVD release of "The Invasion" can be found on their site.

007 in '007: Diamonds are Forever

Diamonds are Forever begins with a faceless figure beating the crap out of a couple different guys over a couple quick scenes – all he wants to know is how to find Blofeld. In the third scene of the sequence, the figure’s face is revealed to be that of Sean Connery, and he isn’t much nicer to the babe at the pool than the other guys. Diamonds follows On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, which ended with the murder of Bond’s (George Lazenby) new bride Tracy (Diana Rigg) at the hands of Blofeld (Telly Savalas).

Clearly this was a defining moment in Bond’s life, but with Diamonds the lead role shifted back to Connery, and in doing so the producers seem unsure about how to address the tragedy. The pre-credits sequence seemingly straddles the fence: The upfront, violent inquisitions are for the viewer who wants to pick up where the last film left off -- Bond is on a rampage and wants revenge…and yet Tracy is never mentioned. The viewer who’d rather forget the previous events (or is simply not privy to them) is free to do so: Maybe James is just tired of Blofeld’s shenanigans and wants to put an end to the cat and mouse nonsense?

Which he seemingly does -- by dumping Blofeld (now played by Charles “No Neck” Gray) into a pit of lavalike mud. Then the cat meows and we hear Shirley Bassey for the first time since Goldfinger…

Diamonds are forever,
Sparkling round my little finger.
Unlike men, the diamonds linger.
Men are mere mortals who
Are not worth going to your grave for.

I’ve got a huge soft spot (somewhere between my legs) for Diamonds are Forever. It’s the first Bond flick I ever saw, and that network airing left a big impression on the 9 or 10-year old me[1]. Despite being blissfully unaware it was part of a larger picture, afterwards I somehow didn’t miss any future airings of Bond flicks.

Les Girls: Once again, the central Bond babe knocks it out of the park. Jill St. John’s Tiffany Case is a highlight of the proceedings. As is the case (ahem…) with the rest of the film’s components, Tiffany’s part is greater than the whole. As the first American Bond girl, she trumps many a U.S.-based successor by believably taking care of herself, whilst at the same time not really being the sharpest crayon in the box. Tiffany is something of a survivor, due in no small part to her sizzling sex appeal and easy-going demeanor, and given the body count in Diamonds, that’s noteworthy. Allow me some bluntness: Miss Case may well be the most bangable Bond girl of them all, which is no trivial honor.

Bond first meets Tiffany in her apartment where she gives him this funny little (completely gratuitous) fashion show, sporting various wigs and negligees. Her hair color & style change each time she exits and reenters the room:

Bond: “Weren’t you a blonde when I came in?”
Tiffany: “Could be.”
Bond: “I tend to notice little things like that – whether a girl’s a blonde or a brunette.”
Tiffany: “And which do you prefer?”
Bond: “Oh, providing the collars and cuffs match…”

A bit later there’s this priceless reaction:

Bond: “That’s quite a nice little nothing you’re almost wearing. I approve.”

Even James seems mildly taken aback by her audacity. If Diana Rigg’s Tracy was the culmination of the ‘60s girls, then Tiffany is a sound jumping-off point for the girls of the ‘70s. In the hands of a lesser actress, Tiffany probably wouldn’t come off nearly as sparkling as she does. For all of John’s assuredness and appeal, how she really sells Case is with her easy-going sense of humor. She really gets Bond, and seems to understand the fly-by-night nature of his being: Tiffany’s having fun for as long as the fun might last.

Also skimping about in various states of bimbocity is Lana Wood’s Plenty O’Toole – great character name and nice to look at, but not much else. And who can forget the combo of Bambi and Thumper, the sexy pair of guards James tussles with outside of billionaire Willard Whyte’s (Jimmy Dean) “prison”? Last but not least, there’s Mrs. Whistler (Margaret Lacey) -- possibly the oldest Bond girl in the series -- a sweet old lady masquerading as a teacher who’s really part of the diamond smuggling ring. She, like Plenty before her, ends up sleeping with the fishes. (OK, maybe she doesn't count, but I couldn't resist mentioning the woman who was probably Whistler's mother.)

Zee Henchmen: And who’s in charge of executing nearly every noteworthy (i.e. creative) death? Mr. Wint (Bruce Glover, father of all that is Crispin) and Mr. Kidd (Putter Smith, a jazz bassist with no prior acting experience). Some say that Wint & Kidd are an ambiguously gay duo -- I say they’re watching the movie with their eyes closed. There’s no way that Wint & Kidd are anything but heaping tablespoonfuls of Queer as Folk. Dare I mix some hackneyed Seinfeld standbys? “Not that there’s anything blah, blah, blah.” Props must be given to whomever’s idea it was for these guys to have a gay old time; this wasn’t the norm back in ’71 and in fact things have come so far in the other direction, it’s difficult to imagine it flying today.

I love Wint & Kidd because they love what they do. They’re not even particularly mean about it; the pair just matter of factly take delight in offing one person after the next. I could watch an entire movie detailing the antics of Wint & Kidd; it’d be like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead only funny.

Zee Villain: Only a dyed-in-the-fishnet Rocky Horror nut would choose Charles Gray as his favorite Blofeld; add in worship of The Devil Rides Out and the deal’s sealed. After the Pleasance & Savalas incarnations (as well as the “unseen” Blofeld from the earlier films), Gray’s casting seems borderline ridiculous -- the guy’s suddenly got a full head of hair and has lost any sort of imposing demeanor or freak factor. He’s this prissy dandy about to explode in a ball of flame at any second. Diamonds are his hangup, fer christsakes!!! Certainly no other Blofeld would’ve hired Wint & Kidd to do his evil bidding. Queerest of all? The baffling intimation that Miss Case shacks up with him to save her skin in the third act. Maybe he’s just keeping up appearances? Tiffany’s certainly got the style, class and wit to play fag hag should the situation demand it.

All supposition aside, fact remains it’s Charles flippin’ Gray. His Blofeld demands no exploration due to the actor alone. He stands apart from all other Blofelds, and it’s no wonder the series closed the curtain on the character after Diamonds (aside from a brief cameo in For Yours Eyes Only) -- Gray killed it for any actor who might have come afterwards. Who else can deliver--with panache--this sort of tongue-in-cheek nonsense?:

Blofeld: “The satellite is at present over…Kansas. Well, if we destroy Kansas the world may not hear about it for years.”

Tuneage & Credits Sequence: Of Bassey’s three Bond tunes, Diamonds are Forever is easily my favorite. It’s a sexy, cool number that slinks along, doing exactly what it’s supposed to do, which is set a tone for the film to come. Binder’s credits sequence also gets the job done, but ultimately feels as if it’s going through the motions: Diamonds, Blofeld’s pussy, the standard cache of scantily clad women and not much more.

Bond, James Bond: So what of Sean Connery in his official series swansong? Assessing his performance as bored or lackluster (which is where I was inclined to head) just doesn’t seem right. It’s Sean Connery, and of the three primary Bonds, he delivers the tightest goods upon exiting the franchise. There’s certainly never the impression that he’s done all he can with the role or that it’s past time for him to go (unlike, say, Moore in A View to a Kill). And yet the franchise itself had probably done all it could with Connery.

Diamonds are Forever is not an especially good film (by Bond standards anyway), and when compared to the Connery flicks that preceded it, it comes up laughable. When compared to the Sean-less movie that preceded it, it comes up insulting. (Do Bond flicks tend to polar react to the films that preceded them?) For all the missiles fired at the Moore era, one need look no further than Diamonds to see the campiest sides of James Bond originated here. Much of the blame can likely be laid at the feet of co-screenwriter Tom Mankiewicz, who seems the logical candidate for the camping up of Bond. He continued variations of the trend with Live and Let Die and The Man with The Golden Gun and pretty much developed the template for the Moore era. One of the dumbest trends that started on Mankiewicz’s watch is the placing of 007 into stupid, cumbersome vehicles in which he’s forced to engage in ludicrous chase scenes – here it’s a moon buggy.

But maybe, as the first Bond flick of the ‘70s, that’s how it should be. Diamonds feels transitional; maybe even like a Moore flick that Connery’s been plopped down into the middle of. Had it starred Moore, he’d have the necessary doubletakes to pull it off. With Connery, it too often seems out of time and place and it’s no wonder he didn’t return for Live and Let Die, despite being offered what at the time was considered a small fortune.

The movie was allegedly a conscious revamp of the series for the American market and as such it’s a success. If James Bond is going to do America, Las Vegas (the primary locale) is the perfect fit. The movie, like Vegas, is gawdy, over-the-top and features silly one-liners, bad puns, ridiculous chase scenes, the words “goddamn” & “bitch” and some fairly excessive violence. I remain grateful that--despite numerous considerations--the series has never cast an American as James himself...


[1] Time for a Bond talkback game! Aside from popping my Bond cherry, Diamonds are Forever also came out in December of 1971 -- when I was about a month old. This, of course, means nothing to most readers, but it means a little something to me. Most people under the age of 45 can figure out the Bond flick that was most likely in the public consciousness around the time they were born. If you were born in or around either ‘67 or ‘83 you get the added bonus of claiming two flicks. If however, like my kid, you were ushered into the world in the early ‘90s, you’re sorta screwed.

On Her Majesty's Secret Service

You’ve seen Skyfall now how about taking a look at the other best James Bond movie you’ve never seen?

Ask a hardcore Bond aficionado what his favorite 007 entry is, and there’s a very good chance the answer will be On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

We don’t necessarily want to make bold claims as to what the best Bond movie is, as it differs from person to person, but Majesty’s should be Top Five material for any die-hard fan of the franchise. The film is littered with all kinds of “firsts” and “onlys” — both in front of and behind the camera — but the most obvious is of course its lead, George Lazenby, and it’s with Lazenby that, for better or worse, most talk of the film begins (but should by no means end).

In the year 2013, we take for granted the changing of the lead actor within the Bond series, as we’ve now had a half a dozen different 007s, but back in the late sixties there was only one James Bond, and his name was Sean Connery. During the production of You Only Live Twice Connery decided to exit the franchise that made him a household name (though as we now know today, he’d return to the character not once, but twice), however, quite understandably, the producers of the series weren’t finished telling their stories, and the public seemed far from tired of 007’s adventures.

So there was really only one option and that was to recast. The search was extensive, but in the end Bond producers decided on a complete unknown – Lazenby – a model with virtually zero acting experience. Regardless, Albert Broccoli was certain he could transform the man into his new James Bond.

Read the rest of the piece by clicking here and visiting Bullz-Eye.

Jackie Earle Haley on Jimmy Kimmel

I must admit I'm not the biggest Kimmel fan, but he managed to pull one of the most fun interviews out of Jackie I've seen yet.

Adios Lobo and Hola Kevin Cacy

The Sunday before last, while many Americans indulged in that bizarre, violent spectacle known as the Super Bowl, Kevin Cacy was indulging in a very different bizarre, violent spectacle: The Spaghetti Western. Also separating him from the masses? He wasn’t watching entertaining commercials, he was making one of his own.

Adios Lobo is Cacy’s response to the Robert Rodriguez-sponsored Grindhouse trailer competition, which was announced last month. Filmmakers like Cacy had less than a month to throw together an exploitation-themed trailer for potential screening at the SXSW Film Festival in Austin in early March. Assuming a handful of auteurs may already have had footage of some kind in the can, what about the many who only had ideas in their head?

Cacy invested $2,300 into his two minutes, called in a bunch of favors, rounded up a cast & crew of somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 people and headed for Enchanted Springs Ranch in Boerne, TX. From a 10:15 AM call to a 9:40 PM wrap, Kevin helmed an abbreviated version of a story he someday hopes to expand into a feature-length project. He then spent the following week editing – submissions were due by 5:30 PM on the 12th...in Austin. At 2:30 that day, he was still putting the finishing touches on it at Matchframe in San Antonio. In true maverick filmmaker style, the drive up to A-Town was nothing short of harrowing. (If you know anything about Austin traffic, the real "miracle" here is Kevin getting it in on time.)

Does his Grindhouse entry serve as an adequate representation of his ultimate vision? Not quite, Kevin told me last night. “The feature version of Adios Lobo would probably be more along the lines of The Proposition rather than the exploitation angle I’m working for the competition.”

Kevin nabbed a small role as a zombie in Rodriguez's "Planet Terror" segment of Grindhouse, an experience he acknowledges as "inspirational". He also spent hours holding a boom mic on the set of Ravenswan, an experience I'll acknowledge for him as "tedious". Yet clearly the two-minute version of Adios Lobo has been the greatest inspiration of the many movie hats he's worn over the past few years and it's given him the confidence necessary to pursue the eventual expanded version. Check out the trailer for yourself:



And after you’re done with that, head over to Ain’t It Cool News and sift through the many other trailers that have been created for the competition.

Updated!!

So I send out this piece to a few people who I think might care, and lo and behold I get a missive back from my buddy Lee Sparks, who resides in Austin. Turns out he's also had a hand in the Grindhouse trailer madness and is involved in Cong of the Dead. In Lee's own words:

"This is a trailer for a movie that will never exist. The zombie stuff was shot concurrently with production on the feature length stop motion film Viva The Nam, which is currently in post production here in Austin. The primary creators are Paul Hanley (Director) and Kieran Healy (DP, Chief Editor). They do the lion's share of the work. I am probably most accurately described as "Hanger-On #1," and have recorded mountains of incidental dialogue for peripheral characters, a few principal characters too, and have been a chief contributor to the project since its inception about 7 years ago. I'm most proud of the heavy vehicles constructed for the film and a lot of the "SFX dummies" that get blown apart."

The work these guys do is very distinctive, and I've seen the "prequel" to Viva the Nam, a 30-minute piece titled Viva La Guerra. Ain't It Cool must have added Cong on one of their updates as I'd have recognized it as Lee's handiwork had I noticed it when first hammering around the page. Looksee below:

Sleestak: An Appreciation

The Rued Morgue requests that you share any and all Sleestak thoughts and memories below. Doesn't matter how sleesey they are, the Morgue will not judge. We only celebrate all that is Sleestakular.

When I look all around

I can't believe the things I've found

Now I need to find my way!

I'm lost, I'm lost, find me...

Livin' in the Land of the Lost!!!

Pimping Jackie

Two items of business before moving forward...

1. Nightline will profile Jackie Earle Haley on Monday night. Read all about it in Jeanne's column and be sure to tune in. Updated!! Nightline just informed Jeanne the piece has been moved to Tuesday!

2. If you're a San Antonio resident who missed Little Children during its three-week run at the Crossroads Bijou, the good news is it's starting another run today at the AMC Huebner Oaks 24 with showtimes at 11:40 AM, 3:00 PM, 6:40 & 9:50. Not in San Antonio? Check out this map of its showtimes around the country. The movie is powerful regardless of where you see it, but I cannot recommend a big screen viewing highly enough.

Here's a bizarre trailer for Little Children that somehow made its way onto YouTube. It reminds me of the mashup trailers that are all the rage these days, and I kept waiting for "Solsbury Hill" to start playing in the background. Great example of how to misrepresent the tone of a film through marketing, and yet this is the sort of thing would get some butts in seats regardless. If you've seen the movie, what's really cool about this trailer is that it's full of little bits and pieces that didn't make it into the finished film.

Yes, my ongoing quest to pimp Jackie's wares continues...which isn't to imply he needs my help; he's clearly doing just fine on his own. I didn't pimp All the King's Men with this sort of fervor, so Jackie's awards, noms and attention aside, the deal is that I really dig the flick. If there's one thing I love doing here at the Morgue, it's selling stuff I believe in. Add a bud into the mix and I'll work to sell it twice as hard.

Joe Gillis: I didn't know you were planning a comeback.

Norma Desmond: I hate that word. It's a return!

As a friend paying very close attention to the media coverage of Jackie's "return", I sometimes feel frustrated by the repetition of the many interviews & articles I read. This isn't to bag on any of those interviewers and/or writers who've so graciously covered what's happened with him over the past couple months. How else is a person to write about someone like Jackie?

On nearly every occasion I've been in a position to mention his film history to one of the uninitiated, it typically comes down to saying "You know, the guy who rode the motorcycle and smoked cigarettes in the Bad News Bears movies - the bad boy." Sometimes people get it at that point--sometimes not. So yeah, when writers cover Jackie, inevitably stuff like Kelly Leak & Breaking Away and words like "comeback" and "return" should be mentioned, otherwise readers might be lost.

An anecdote: The night Ravenswan premiered here in S.A. - to a packed auditorium of over 300 people - Jackie was amongst the crowd. Before the movie, I did a little trivia competition with the audience and gave away various goodies.

One of my questions was "Local actor, writer and director Jackie Earle Haley had a small but important role in what movie directed by John Schlesinger?" Silence. One person raised a hand: Bad News Bears? Nope. Someone else: Breaking Away? No, Schlesinger didn't direct that either. My memory may be faulty, but I swear somebody answered "Midnight Cowboy", which was at least a good guess, but since Jackie wasn't in it, no dice. After the crowd started looking at me like I was an asshole, I said "The Day of the Locust. Nobody here has seen The Day of the Locust?". Crickets...or maybe locusts...I dunno.

After the screening, and after Jackie bestowed some gracious kudos upon me (he'd seen the rough cut of Ravenswan, which didn't inspire much hope), I mentioned the trivia question. He rolled his eyes and said, "Dude - come on. Nobody was gonna get that one."

I look forward to the day when the Bears flicks aren't the only means to identify Jackie. Another famous child actor named Jackie - Jackie Cooper - worked well into his latter years and he also never escaped his childhood work from the Little Rascals/Our Gang shorts. But I guess "the creepy pedophile from that one movie with Kate Winslet" isn't how one wants to go through life either. (Haven't spoken to him on the issue, so that's only supposition.) There's the case of Ned Beatty, a guy who reputedly hates talking about his debut film, Deliverance -- the one flick for which he's still most well-known. Or maybe Ned just doesn't appreciate strangers coming up and demanding he squeal like a pig? I can understand that. (The fact that both Jackie Cooper and Ned Beatty appeared in the Superman movies only just hit me.) As an actor, I guess no matter when or where you are in your career, you'll always be subjected to someone bringing up your past work. Look no further than Traci Lords for proof of that. Or George Clooney, who cannot escape The Facts of Life or that crappy sitcom from the mid '80s called E/R.

I continue to applaud Jackie for not only his spectacular work in Little Children, but also for pursuing and taking on the role of Ronnie in the first place. It was a huge gamble that easily could've backfired (same goes for Ned Beatty). It's difficult to imagine an actor more solidified in his career agreeing to the risky job of breathing life into such an ambiguous character. It's equally difficult to imagine it working with a more well-known actor.

Sometime between now and Oscar night I'm doing an interview with Jackie that will appear at The House Next Door, but he's got to hightail it back to S.A. in order for me to do it - the guy's been insanely out of pocket over the past couple weeks (as you might imagine). It won't and can't be like most of the other interviews he's given. There's no way it could be as I can't pretend to be even remotely objective. Hopefully it'll be one of those unique pieces that could only come from the belly of the blogger underworld. So stay tuned folks...and there's more 007 in '007 around the corner as well!

007 in '007: The PreRamble

If this can possibly be believed, I finally saw Casino Royale this past Saturday night, after weeks of The Don badgering and heckling me for not doing so already. It was never a matter of thinking I wasn’t going to like it; quite the contrary – I was certain I would. But Bond is this little universe many of us have grown up with, and once the floodgates opened and phrases like “Best Bond ever” and “Negates everything that came before it” started being tossed around, I instinctively pulled back a little bit, and my interest somewhat waned. I’m not going to review Casino Royale at this time, but suffice it to say despite being pretty taken by the whole affair and recognizing that this is where the series should have been when Pierce Brosnan took over, its existence didn’t poke even a minor hole in all that came before. Indeed, Casino Royale may have given me an even deeper appreciation for the series.

Which leads directly to a project that will be ongoing here at The Rued Morgue over the next 12 months: “007 in ‘007” – a laid back exhumation and autopsy of the longest running movie franchise in film history; a franchise so needlessly and obnoxiously repetitive that the mind almost boggles at its ability to keep on truckin’. Of primary importance will be reviews of each film, but the project may veer into other areas, analyses, lists and/or commentaries along the way if and when inspiration hits, so it's anyone's guess what this could morph into.

Having received for Christmas (thanks to my dad & JJ) Volumes 2 & 3 of the James Bond Ultimate Edition DVD box sets and having the other two on the way (thanks to some clever eBay bidding on my part), my love for Bond has in recent weeks been reinvigorated. For some bizarre reason, the last time I collected Bond was on VHS as a teenager. I skipped not only the previous DVD releases, but also – inexplicably - the laserdisc versions, which should have been a no-brainer as they were my first opportunity to own the series in widescreen. Since obtaining these sets over the holidays, it’s beginning to feel like fate: Bond has never looked as good on home video as he does on these new releases and I'm glad I waited.

In some cases it’s been years since I’ve seen an installment and in two cases, I’d never seen them at all! While these new sets feature much previously released-on-DVD bonus material, for me it’s all brand-new and quite a treat to sift through. On top of everything else, these editions feature newly recorded commentaries by Sir Roger Moore on all seven of his outings and as Rog is my favorite Bond, his thoughts, memories and anecdotes are icing on the cake sort of fare. Say what you will about Moore (I may not even argue with you), but I don't see Sean Connery taking time out of early retirement to reward loyal fans with the same.

So if you are a Bond fan, hopefully you’ll check in to the Morgue periodically and see how the project is coming along and throw down your own insights. If you are not a Bond fan, there’ll be plenty of heckling and poking fun along the way. After all, if Roger Moore is my ideal 007, it should go without saying that I don’t take Bond as seriously as the idea of this project might imply -- and yet I wouldn't tackle it if I didn't love me some Scaramanga, Blofeld and Tiffany Case.

First up? Comin’ outta the gate with my favorite Bond flick of them all (if for no reason other than to get it out of my system): Roger Moore’s freshman outing, Live and Let Die.

Lynchendental Meditation

Thanks to The Don I'll be seeing David Lynch's much talked about Inland Empire on the 24th at the lovely Paramount Theatre in Austin, TX -- with Lynch himself in attendance! Of course, it's hugely doubtful there'll be a chance to go one on one with the man -- but as I've often said to many a fellow Lynch Nut, of all my favorite filmmakers, he's the only one to whom I'd have no idea what to say. Lynch is the kind of guy whose voice and vision stands on its own.

Which leads me to his other latest endeavor, the book entitled Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity, a piece which strikes me as noteworthy because David Lynch doesn't write books every day, and certainly not on subjects that are personal to him. It's nearly 200 pages of Lynch talking about (in the words of the Amazon description) "his personal methods of capturing and working with ideas, and the immense creative benefits he has experienced from the practice of meditation". If you're at all like me, it sounds like a bunch of new age hooey...but if like me you love the man's work, you're also hard-pressed to dismiss this effort to reach out to the public on the matter. (One wonders if Terry Gilliam could benefit from these philosophies?) I'm not exactly rushing to Borders to pick this up, but I'm pretty sure I'll own a copy within the next couple weeks; it's very reasonably priced for a hardcover.

I got "My Borders Monthly" in my e-mail box last night, and it was pimping the book, along with an excerpt titled "The Pace of Life", a brief excerpt from the audio version of the book, and an engaging Q & A with Lynch. Check out the links, as I think you'll come away from them with a slightly different attitude toward this work. It doesn't strike me as the kind of text that's specific to Lynch's audience; this seems like fare that might benefit anyone engaged in creative endeavors.

Check out Ryland Walker Knight's writeup/review of the book over at The House Next Door.

Pete Martell: There was a fish -- in the percolator!

Swimming Pools & Movie Stars: Random Thoughts about Little Children

Little Children (finally!) opened at the Crossroads Bijou this weekend; for those of you who don’t live in San Antonio, it’s also on 100 or so other screens across the country. After months of building it up in my head as this probable piece of celluloid perfection (due to numerous factors), and then subsequently worrying that it couldn’t possibly live up to the hype (due to experiencing the "letdown" too many times to count), I discovered a work even more rewarding than I’d imagined or hoped. There isn’t a weak performance or moment on display, and its characters & situations left me with as many questions as they did answers. It’s unsettling material that also frequently had me in stitches, and as the end credits rolled, I was a weeping mess -- I'm still trying to figure out why that was.

Many S.A. Morgue readers know Jackie Earle Haley and many probably also know he’s been racking up awards from various critics organizations, as well as snagging a recent SAG nom for his work in the movie. Viewing Jackie in his other recent role as Sugar Boy in All the King's Men was the type of experience I often encounter when seeing a close friend performing on stage or in a film - regardless of the quality of the performance, I'm always aware that I'm watching someone I know playing a character.

Jackie's Ronnie in Little Children is a different story. Somewhere in the midst of probably his third scene, I found myself unable to wrap my brain around the fact that I've known the figure onscreen for 7 or 8 years. There was not only nothing left of the person with whom I associate, but he somehow ceased to even look like Jackie. Yes, Mr. Haley is more than deserving of the accolades he’s received - and yet he's only one reason to see this film.

Most of the above says more about me than the movie, and I’d have to see it a few more times before attempting any kind of review. The film is better discussed than reviewed anyway, so who knows if or when I’ll even try. Little Children has been compared to Kubrick. Via director Todd Field’s sterile, removed--yet inexplicably non-judgmental--approach, that doesn’t seem an overstatement. Like a Kubrick flick, it has the power to polarize; for each person who loves it, another will loathe it, which certainly indicates a measure of strength. It may even somewhat be the movie that detractors of Eyes Wide Shut have often claimed it should have been – a relevant commentary about the contemporary complexities of marriage (which isn’t to bag on Eyes, a work I dearly love). Oddly (I guess), Field played piano player Nick Nightingale in Kubrick’s swan song.

Despite my enthusiasm for all the attention that not only Jackie, but also Kate Winslet, Patrick Wilson and the film itself have been given, it’s a weirdly noticable oversight that more recognition hasn’t been heaped upon Todd Field. More than any other film I’ve seen in ages, this is clearly the vision of an assured, meticulous director. He’s amassed some awards & nominations for its adapted screenplay (co-written with novelist Tom Perrotta) and the film’s got some “Best Picture” momentum (including a Golden Globe nom) - yet the directing kudos have eluded Field. It’s not that the screenplay isn’t award-worthy, but it’s the type of script that in the hands of someone less capable could easily have ended up feeling like a Lifetime TV movie. Little Children is all about Field’s direction -- how he visually and stylistically chose to interpret the material he helped put to paper. (In fact, it's easy to imagine Field directing the film in his head during the adaptation process.) If the film is hated by a viewer, I don't think it'll be the material that offends - it'll be the way the material's been presented that gets under their skin. Same thing goes for those who love it.

Maybe the oversight will be rectified come Oscar time, but it could end up being one of those bizarre predicaments where the movie’s up for Best Pic, and yet the director fails to be given a nomination. For all I know Field couldn’t care less. Despite four noms, Stanley Kubrick never won an Oscar and he didn’t seem too bothered by it (or at least his work and credibility didn't suffer). Had I the intelligence and insight to make a movie this strong, the ability just to do it would, I believe, be reward enough...which isn't to imply such aspirations have evaporated -- quite the opposite: Little Children is the kind of fare that will inspire a certain breed of filmmaker. It provides reassurance that there's still room in the marketplace for creative complexity and that a movie can still be produced without worrying about how it'll play in Peoria (or indeed anywhere, for that matter).

Field did however just win the "Visionary Award" at the Palm Springs International Film Festival. Maybe an award named as such is the most appropriate for what he's achieved with this film. Anyone who can present the world of mind-numbingly boring suburbanites -- a topic that's been dramatically and comically explored from seemingly every possible angle in recent years -- with such freshness and familiarity, must be a visionary of some kind.

The flawed institution of wedded bliss is only one of Little Children’s numerous topics. It’s best you discover the rest of its world on your own. Find out what this movie means to you, as what it meant to me will likely be irrelevant to your own experience.

Now on Tuesday I must go rent Idiocracy and see my friend Kevin Cacy strut his stuff when Mike Judge's latest hits DVD.

The Rued Morgue will return...

...in "007 in '007"


Stay tuned!

Really Big Finish

Doctor Who Season Two (or Season 28, depending on your anal-retentiveness) has been a string of entertaining highs and lows, in terms of both quality and intensity. It’s been a season of returns, renewals and reinventions. We’ve met Cybermen, a werewolf, clockwork robots, Queen Victoria, Madame du Pompadour, and at the edge of the universe, maybe even Satan himself. We visited a current parallel Earth and also a New Earth in the year 5,000,000,23. There were trips to 1953, 1879, 2012, and the 51st century -- a time that led to a tour of 18th century France. Sarah Jane Smith came back to us and Mickey Smith said goodbye. K-9 was blown up and put back together. Jackie Tyler died, but Pete Tyler lived. Throughout the adventures, there were only three constants: the Doctor, his TARDIS and Rose Tyler – at the end of the two-parter “Army of Ghosts” & “Doomsday”, we bid a gut-wrenching farewell to one of them.

Read the rest of this recap by clicking here to prepare for battle at The House Next Door.

Fingers on Lips!

A suburban neighborhood. A different time. A major televised event. Missing residents. An abusive father. Alien abduction. “The Idiot’s Lantern”? Nope. But Doctor Who’s latest, “Fear Her”, has so many elements in common with that episode, it’s impossible not to draw a comparison.

Now I bagged on “The Idiot’s Lantern” something hardcore, and “Fear Her” has probably just as many flaws...yet there’s something about its itch that I don’t quite know how to scratch. While it’s hardly a season high point, its charms have slowly grown on me over time and multiple viewings.

To discover how much of a Doctor Who nerd I really am, click here and read the rest of this recap at The House Next Door.

The Sexy, Surreal Slice & Dice of Nip/Tuck

Tonight FX delivers the Season Four finale of its highest rated series, Nip/Tuck. Based on the 14 episodes presented thus far, this season's subtitle should be “The Apology”, because after the disaster that was Season Three, that’s what was owed to long-term fans -- and it’s largely what producer/writer Ryan Murphy and his band of twisted lunatics delivered.

Nip/Tuck's charter mission—a commentary about the evils (and occasional benefits) of cosmetic surgery—has been all but abandoned at this point. There's still at least one patient/surgery per episode, but most of them are played for laughs or shock value (and sometimes both) and rarely leave lasting impressions. After three seasons of exploring themes that were tidily summed up by the oft-repeated catchphrase of the Carver ("Beauty is a curse on the world"), maybe there isn't much left to say? The show has often been accused of promoting sexist themes, which is a tad shortsighted, as it primarily holds up a mirror to what's beneath the surface, that which cannot be fixed through botox injections and boob jobs: Nip/Tuck is really about people making atrocious life decisions (surgery being only the tip of that iceberg). On the rare occasion someone on Nip/Tuck makes a good decision, you can bet the positive fallout won't last long, as they'll soon enough make another bad one, dragging the character back to their moral drawing board. It's impossible for anyone on this series to be content for any length of time, and the day someone finds true happiness, it'll be time to close up shop.

To read the rest of my latest dissection, make an appointment at The House Next Door.

Child Helps Promote Little Children

UPDATED!

This must be one of the most inventive bits of marketing I've ever seen:



Little Children is a flick I've been dying to see for what's now seeming like an eternity, and it's anyone's guess at this point what exactly New Line's doing with it. It opened in October and played on 30 or so screens to decent business, but the studio thus far hasn't expanded it. There's been some talk of a wide release around the New Year, which ultimately would probably be a good time to do it, as it isn't exactly holiday fare. But for those of us who were expecting to see it a couple months ago, it's been a frustrating, tedious wait.

Hey New Line! Why don't you market this film to the people who tune in to Desperate Housewives every week? If you could get just a twentieth of that show's audience to head out to the theatre to see it, you'd have a nice, indie hit on your hands.

Here's a map of the cities/theatres it's still playing in (type your Zip Code in for specifics). If you can, go see this movie. Do it for me, because it isn't playing in San Antonio or even Austin.

UPDATE! Jackie Earle Haley wins Best Supporting Actor from the New York Film Critics Circle for his work in Little Children! Click here to read the story. Way to go, Jackie - it's about time, my friend!