Poem: Cloudless Night (2010)

Written in an art room while staring at a Van Gogh print.

*          *          *

The wild night sky is splayed out

Like pair drops on a canvas,

Blue and black and vast and cold.

It rushes like water,

Ever-changing its formless face

While the stars fall gold and brilliant across it.

Swirling, shifting galaxies

Dazzle through the cosmos

Like celestial kaleidoscopes,

And as the earth spins beneath you,

You start to realize how small you are.

Top Five Stories: The Fourth Doctor

Ah, Four - he of the scarf, jelly babies, and manic grin.  This madcap, very alien Doctor has seven seasons of stories, but I've winnowed them down to my five favorites.  No easy task, I'm telling you.  Besides being an excellent Doctor in his own right, Four has topnotch companions and some fantastically creative writing.  

"Genesis of the Daleks" (Series 12, Episodes 11-16)

One of the best Dalek stories around, this serial features the first appearance of Davros and a major quandary for the Doctor.  Sarah Jane and Harry are terrific, and "Hello, can you help me?  I'm a spy," might be one of my favorite Who lines of all time.

"The Talons of Weng-Chiang" (Series 14, Episodes 21-26)

The Doctor and Leela in Victorian London!  The Doctor playing Sherlock Holmes!  Leela still kicking butt in 19th century garb!  Rodents of unusual size!  This story has everything.  Also, I adore the scene of Leela having dinner with Professor Litefoot - he probably thought that was the most outrageous thing he'd ever done.

"Horror of Fang Rock" (Series 15, Episodes 1-4)

Yep:  another Leela story.  I just love Leela.  For all that we hear about the Sontarans' war with the Rutans, it's nice to actually see a Rutan for once, and the lighthouse setting is suitably eerie and claustrophobic.  Leela is all kinds of hardcore awesome and gets a ton of great lines.

"City of Death" (Series 17, Episodes 5-8)

The Doctor and Romana II tooling around Paris is too much fun.  Scaroth is an excellent, scary-looking villain with an interesting story, and Duggan, the Doctor and Romana's "punch first, ask questions later" tagalong, is a amusing addition.  Plus, his and Romana's exchange of "You know what I don't get?" - "I expect so," is the best burn ever.  I'd love to be able to pull that off.

"The Seeds of Doom" (Series 13, Episodes 21-26)

Maybe a bit of a wildcard, but I love it.  The Krinoids freak me out, there's plenty of good tension and excitement, and you can never go wrong with Four and Sarah Jane.  They're on fire in this serial, and I have so much love for the sight of Elisabeth Sladen flailing around as she's being attacked by fake foliage - bless.

Favorite Characters: Beatrice (Much Ado about Nothing)

Let's face it:  no one reads Much Ado about Nothing for Claudio and Hero.  It's all about Benedick and Beatrice, and really, it's about Beatrice.  This Shakespearean lady is cooler, funnier, and fiercer than most female leads you see in today's romcoms.

Hero, undoubtedly, is the prototypical fairy tale princess.  Men fall in love with her at a glimpse, and, to borrow from another Shakespeare play, she's the one teaching the torches to burn bright.  She reminds me of one of Dickens's "angels of the house," but this ain't the Victorian age.  It's the Elizabethan era, where the Rosalinds and Portias take center stage in the happy endings.

Enter Beatrice.  Older and sharper than Hero, less rich and sweet, she's not the automatic prize her young cousin is, and while she knows this, she doesn't mind.  She has no plans to secure a husband, and she takes pleasure in mocking her uncle's expectations of what a young lady ought to do.  But right from the start, Beatrice explodes off the page.  While Hero can literally go hundreds of lines without speaking in mixed company, Beatrice dominates every scene she's in.  Men fall in love when they see Hero, but with Beatrice, they fall in love when they know her.

In the play, Benedick and his pals Don Pedro and Claudio are "wits," privileged young men-about-town who spar verbally as a recreational sport.  They can wile away hours spinning puns, slights, and innuendos, with bragging rights going to the man with the quickest tongue.  Not only, however, does Beatrice have the nerve to play with the big boys (demure she is not) - she also has more than enough brains and bite to wipe the floor with them.  She and Benedick go head-to-head numerous times, and she always gets the last word.

Where love is concerned, Beatrice is cynical without being bitter.  Her heart's bee toyed with lightly before, and that makes her keep romance at arm's length, but she's not some man-hating ball-buster.  She's playfully combative with Benedick, and when Don Pedro takes their mutual flirting a bit too sincerely for her comfort, she lets him down gently.  And when she does eventually find herself in love, she as usual has to outdo her beau; while Benedick gives his soliloquy o' love in blank verse, Beatrice's is a sonnet.

She's careful in romantic matters of the heart, but she's very free with her affections to her cousin.  She's forever advising Hero to go after what she, rather than her father, wants, as well as encouraging Hero to speak up for herself.  When Hero's happiness is threatened, Beatrice is the only one whose support never wavers.  She rages on her cousin's behalf, and her own potential happy ending takes a back seat to repairing Hero's.

Is it any wonder she's been played variously by the likes of Emma Thompson, Catherine Tate, and Amy Acker?  I can't imagine too many roles that must be more universally coveted by actresses. 

Lucy (2014, R)

When I saw the trailer for this movie months ago, I was bowled over.  The premise, silly science aside, allowed for all manner of awesome, and Captain America:  The Winter Soldier left me very pro-Scarlett Johansson.  I faithfully did my part in the battle to get a Black Widow movie by seeing Lucy opening weekend.

My verdict?  Not as great as I was hoping.  The film seems a little conflicted about what it wants to be, and the resulting blend of sci-fi, action, philosophy, sex appeal, and violence feels disjointed.  Still, it's undeniably cool, and any ridiculousness is outweighed by the great time I had.

Lucy is an American student staying in Taiwan, an ordinary woman who gets mixed up in some incredibly serious business.  The upshot is that she's made a mule for a powerful new drug that's a lot more than its makers intended; when the bag breaks open inside her and the drug enters her bloodstream, it kickstarts an evolution the likes of which humanity has never seen.

Based on the old saw about humans only using 10% of their brains, the rather insane explanation is that the drug, rewriting Lucy's biology, allows her to employ more and more of her cerebral capacity.  Yes, it's goofy, but that's not the important part.  What's important is that it hand waves an excuse for Lucy to start becoming a god.  It begins with lightning-fast knowledge acquisition and greatly increased control over her own body (woman's got moves, plus she can change her appearance at will,) and moves on to controlling other people/matter and essentially plugging herself into the universe.  She enlists a bewildered police officer to help in her attempts to get more of the drug - her body isn't coping well with the rapid-fire changes, and she thinks the drug is the only thing that will keep her going a bit longer - and evade the crime ring trying to get their product back.  

Tons of cool sci-fi-ish action ensues, along with a handful of more introspective moments.  There are meditations on life, humanity, and time, among others.  The further Lucy goes down the rabbit hole of exploring her new abilities, the more she feels she's losing the fundamentally human part of herself, and she's not sure how much she should try to keep ahold of it.  Additionally, she wonders what she should do with all her newfound understanding in the presumably-little time she has left:  what is her responsibility to her species?  What should she leave behind?

Oh, and Johansson is awesome.  She completely nails Lucy's terror and confusion early in the film, and as she starts to change, she takes on an almost robotic sense of calm that still coveys intelligence and intuition.  While distant, she never feels detached.  She's predictably great in the action scenes - just fantastic to watch - but the film's standout scene is stripped of all bells and whistles.  It's a long, still closeup as, on the phone with her mother, Lucy tries to explain what's happening to her.  And it's incredible.

Warnings

Lots of violence, sexual content, swearing, drug use, and some disturbing images.

Sherlock Jr. (1924)

This Buster Keaton film, in length resting somewhere between a short and a feature, is utterly splendid.  Aside from being fantastically funny, it offers up stunning-for-the-time film techniques, some remarkable gags, and a great, out-of-the-ordinary performance from Buster.

In this film, Buster plays a hapless young movie projectionist/budding detective.  He practices examining fingerprints between running reels and sweeping the theater, and when he gives his girl the best engagement ring he can afford, his magnifying glass is there to aid her attempts to see the diamond.  When everything goes wrong for him as, naturally, it does, a quick snooze in the projection room dreams up life as a film in which he gets to be the hero.

This is where the big fun begins.  Up to this point, Buster has been playing his usual tenaciously-resourceful but incurably-unlucky character, a little fumbling in general and pretty shy around women, but good-hearted and clever at his core.  In the movie-within-a-dream-within-a-movie, however, he becomes Sherlock Jr., world-famous sleuth and all-around cool customer.  Though he still has a few moments of cluelessness and clumsiness (despite his renowned deductive skills, he consistently fails to recognize his assistant in disguise,) this is an altogether different character for Buster.  Sherlock Jr. Is smooth and confident, with a keen eye and an easy suaveness with the ladies.  He's wonderfully enjoyable, and Buster does a superb job playing him.

The gags are a delight, ranging from the simple (Buster takes the instruction "follow your man closely" to absolutely ridiculous lengths) to the impressive (he rides the handlebars of a driverless motor bike with great aplomb.). On the directing side of things, we have some very savvy bits of filmmaking, especially at the start of Buster's dream.  In an extended sequence, he steps into the movie screen and struggles to find his footing in surroundings that constantly flicker with change - he steps off a curb on a city street just as it becomes a rocky outcrop in the wilderness, that sort of thing.  The transitions are seamless, and Buster never misses a beat; I can't imagine what audiences in the 20s must have thought.

From start to finish, a tip-top little film.  Funny and smart, outlandish and sweet.  What more could you want?

Warnings

Slapstick violence, and a little smoking and drinking.

Ultraviolet (1998)

There are vampire stories to suit all tastes:  period, contemporary, scary, romantic, gothic, satirical, ad infinitum.  I'm by no means an indiscriminate consumer of vampire narratives - while I love me some Buffy, and Let the Right One In is spectacular, I've never been inclined toward the Anne Rice series, and Twilight is, well, Twilight.  The smart, gritty Ultraviolet, however, is decidedly cool.

This short-lived British TV show perhaps does more than any other story to modernize vampire mythos.  No beautifully tormented creatures of the night here; though their kind still spreads by the traditional blood-exchange-via-bite, the vampires (always called "leeches" or "code V's", never vampires) are another race occupying our society, albeit secretly.  They're largely concerned with their continued survival as a species, forever on the lookout for useful recruits and new methods of furthering their aims.

Generally, the leeches' movements  are kept to the shadows, but a small number of humans are aware of their existence.  When Michael, a young police officer, discovers leeches due to their involvement with a friend of his, he's brought into the folds of a covert operation that combats them.  Along with Pearse, a priest, Vaughan, ex-military, and Angie, a doctor, Michael starts to investigate leeches, but unlike his teammates, he's not entirely sure the situation is black and white.

It's a very different sort of take on a vampire tale.  Many of the old standbys are present - no reflection, death by sunlight, pile of ashes - and others are tweaked - graphite bullets in place of wooden stakes, a mostly superstitious aversion to religious icons.  From there, though, the plot branches off in new directions, as the leeches explore possible breakthroughs in creating synthetic blood, or spreading code V through a airborne pathogen.

Through it all, Michael is torn.  The others tell him the leeches are monsters that need to be destroyed, but the leeches he meets insist they're a race with dietary restrictions and a sunlight allergy trying to survive attempted genocide.  Who's to be trusted and who, if anyone, are the monsters?  It's an interesting ambiguity, and it plays out over the course of the far-too-short six episodes.

The cast is terrific.  Michael is well-played by Jack Davenport in a fairly early role, finding a good sweet spot between courageous and overwhelmed.  Phillip Quast brings keen but gentle insight to Pearse, Idris Elba (lately Heimdall in the Thor movies) is excellent as the guarded Vaughan, and Susannah Harker (Jane in the Ehle/Firth Pride and Prejudice) gives a quietly thoughtful performance as Angie.

Warnings

Thematic elements, sexual references (including an episode dealing with sexual abuse,) some drinking, and violence.

Relationship Spotlight: Flying Snow & Broken Sword (Hero)

It was only a matter of time before these two appeared.  While I can't say I'm a huge wuxia fan (I enjoy the films I've seen, but I don't seek it out,) Hero is a slam dunk.  The acting is terrific, the story is layered and affecting, the art direction is gorgeous, and the wire-fu never crosses the line from cool to ridiculous.

But today's post isn't about Hero as a whole - it's about Flying Snow and Broken Sword.  The film's protagonist, Nameless, meets this legendary pair of assassins, and they go on to play a significant role in the story.  Right off the bat, we're given an assortment of both hard and soft edges.  They're lethal killing machines.  They're artists and teachers at a calligraphy school.  They've tried to take out the Emperor himself.  They're lovers.  And, given the unreliable narrative, they're pretty hard to pin down.  The same event plays out three times in different ways, each one offering a different version of their relationship.  Is their love pure or possessive?  Are they rash or thoughtful?  Is their match equal or uneven?

The red section (each iteration of the scene uses its own palette) seethes with tension and resentment, depicting lovers who've been together too long and have fallen out.  Their home life is marked by a heavy distance, and yet neither can cut the other loose.  Broken Sword lashes out, and Flying Snow responds in kind.  In the blue section, however, they're almost wholly wrapped up in one another, living and dying for each other and as one.  When I think of the term "soulmate," this is the image I conjure up.  (Also, the blue section has one of the loveliest, most emotional love scenes I've ever seen.). Between these opposing portrayals lies the white section, in which Flying Snow and Broken Sword are partners in the truest sense of the word.  While they mean fathoms to one another and fight as if they share the same body, each has their own mind that doesn't always align with the other's.  They aren't one another's entire world, and they clash when they feel it's necessary.

So, what can we really tell of them?  We know that, in many ways, Flying Snow is stronger than Broken Sword.  Her drive burns brightly within her, propelling her forward.  She's ready for drastic action, which she sometimes takes too impulsively.  Quieter, stiller Broken Sword often defers to her; he's found a place for himself in her life.  However, he isn't a mere extension of her, doesn't fall in line at her every word.  He's not opposed to standing up to his more outspoken lover, and he defends his own views with soft but determined resolve.

And of course, they're played by Maggie Cheung and Tony Leung Chiu-wai of, among other things, In the Mood for Love.  This movie was the first time I saw them onscreen together, and I knew I was watching something special.  They're so completely in sync, creating three distinct dynamics for the different versions of their relationship, and each feels perfectly organic.  Whenever they share a scene, I can't take my eyes off them.

The Great Gatsby (1925)

If I have a fatal flaw as a reader, it's that I'm easily dazzled by exquisite prose.  More than once, I've gushed about a particular book to anyone who will listen, and when someone takes my advice and reads it, they come back unimpressed.  The story's too thin or meandering, or this plot point is a deal breaker, or there's not enough momentum.  But see, that's the thing - when the writing, the actual arrangement of the words themselves, is utterly sumptuous, I forgive almost anything.

The Great Gatsby is a book for the likes of me.  Not that it's poorly plotted - the words alone wouldn't have made it a classic - but I've heard my share of complaints that the tale is insubstantial and Daisy is the ultimate "she's not worth it" woman.  I don't mind; the prose is a thing of beauty.  I've not yet gotten myself well enough in gear to read any of F. Scott Fotzgerald's other works, but I feast on his words here.  Told through the voice of Nick Carraway, a perceptive young man bearing witness to the book's dizzying and extraordinary events, the novel brims equally with Jazz-Age verve and Midwestern quiet.  In Fitzgerald's hands, the story becomes poetry, and descriptions of even the most minor occurrences grip me.

Living in Long Island after the war, Nick's world is inexorably entwined with that of his neighbor, the mysterious and fabulously wealthy Jay Gatsby.  He attends the decadent parties Gatsby throws every weekend and is soon drawn into Gatsby's elaborate orchestrations to reclaim the love he lost some years before.  It's a story of noise and life, love and death, money and blood, relish and regret, and Gatsby is the enigma at its center.

Nick is one of those narrators who exist chiefly as a lens through which to view the more colorful characters around him.  Gatsby is like a planet Nick orbits, and Nick's cousin Daisy is both the light that warms Gatsby and the disease that consumes him.  The book is rounded out by the combustive Tom, the lusty Myrtle, the brow-beaten George, the sly Wolfshiem, and the dispassionate Jordan.  Still, Nick is vital to our immersion in this world - besides the wondrous prose, he grounds our view of these characters, gets them and sees into them in ways that they may not fully manage themselves.  He's the window, bringing observation and insight and offering a stable foundation whenever the story soars too giddily.

Warnings

Drinking, smoking, sexual content, a few scenes of violence, and some illegal activity.

A Few Thoughts on New Who's Master

It's officially one month until series 8 begins, so I have Who on the brain.  My latest Whoniverse rewatch has just taken me to the end of series 3 (seriously, how awesome is Martha?) and I thought I'd take a minute or two to look at the rather divisive Master penned by RTD and portrayed by John Simm.

Let me start by saying that, when I first saw the series, I'd heard beforehand that John Simm would be playing this famous classic-series enemy of the Doctor and, given my love for State of Play, I was pumped.  In "Utopia", between the return of Jack and the brief glimpse of the Master at the end (and that astounding cliffhanger - definitely one of my top five Whoniverse endings,) I powered through the rest of the season that night in a frenzy.  Unfortunately though, my main reactions to the Master in the final two episodes were "huh?" "meh," and "ugh."  After my wild anticipation, quite a letdown.

'Cause there's a lot of "huh?" "meh," ad "ugh" in this incarnation of the character.  He's over-the-top ridiculous, and "The End of Time" just doubles down on everything I dislike.  Some scenes are so hammy,  they make me cringe (but, I'm quick to defend, that's not entirely John Simm's fault - RTD shares a lot of the blame.  Given scenes like demonstrating "funny vs. not funny" expressions, or attacking a turkey carcass like a starved animal, what actor could have pulled those off in a nuanced way?). Throw in the fact that "The Last of the Time Lords" and "The End of Time" are my two least-favorite finales of the entire RTD era, and I could easily sour on the whole venture.

But that would be unfair because, having watched these episodes a few times since then, there is some good stuff to be had in this version of the Master.  His connection with the Doctor is fantastic, and Simm and Tennant play so well off of each other.  These characters have a long, charged history, and the events of the Time War have forged a fascinating bond between them.  They're the last two of their species, and so even in the midst of their battling and threatening and mind games, they sort of cling to one another.  The Master needs to provoke the Doctor, needs him to engage, needs him to prove they're both still there.  He's desperate for assurance that the Doctor hears the same drumming that he does, and when he thinks for a moment that he might have killed the Doctor, he's almost panicked until he sees that he hasn't lost his only peer.  The Doctor feels a similar pull, and these two are as likely to have weighty conversations as they are to fight.

That, and some of the demented loony routine actually works.  This Master has a borderline-playful brand of crazy that, when he's not devouring the scenery, can come off well.  Though the cabinet scene as a whole has too much face-pulling for my liking, I enjoy everything from the gask mask on, and the last scene of "The Sound of Drums" is one of my favorites ever, with everything going to pieces while the Master grooves to "Voodoo Child."  I mean, this is a guy who picks out a soundtrack for destroying the world - how can you not love that?

Top Five Stories: The Fifth Doctor

Five is a middle-of-the-road Doctor for me, not especially standout but very pleasant and Doctory.  Peter Davison (who I will now love forever thanks to The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot) had a tall order following in Tom Baker’s footsteps, and his Doctor was saddled with his fair share of questionable writing, but he also had some memorable stories and excellent companion dynamics.

“Enlightenment” (Series 20, Episodes 17-20)

The Eternals have a big ole space race with seafaring ships refitted for celestial travel.  Aside from reminding me of Treasure Planet, an unexpectedly amazing movie, that’s just a bang-up premise.  The Eternals are an interesting race, the visuals are magnificent, and both Tegan and Turlough are used to good effect.  (Just ignore the Black Guardian’s ridiculous crow hat – oy vey.)

 

“Black Orchid” (Series 19, Episodes 17-18)

This short story is delightful fun, lighter and fluffier than most.  Dropping in on an English manor in the 20s, we have the Doctor mistaken for a famous cricketer, Nyssa and her 1920s double in fabulously cute insect costumes, and Tegan adorably dancing the Charleston.  Even Adric is pretty tolerable.  Fantastic all around!

 

“Castrovalva” (Series 19, Episodes 1-4)

Five has an interesting first serial.  With a major regeneration crisis in progress, the Doctor travels deep into the TARDIS to keep stable, leaving the many pieces of Four’s outfit like breadcrumbs to find his way back.  Also, Tegan and Nyssa fly the TARDIS by themselves, and Tegan climbs rocks in heels!  Girl’s got pluck.

 

“The Caves of Androzani” (Series 21, Episodes 19-23)

From first to last.  Final stories are a crap shoot for any Doctor – for every “The War Games,” you have an “End of Time” – but Five’s is pretty darn good.  Sharez Jek is a mundo creepy villain, and it’s affecting to see the Doctor and Peri struggling to withstand the toxin they’ve been exposed to.  The last few minutes are wonderful; after starting out with such a lovely Doctor in Five, Peri really lost the companion lottery to get saddled with Six for the rest of her time on the show.

 

“The Visitation” (Series 19, Episodes 13-16)

I’m a big of this 17^th-century adventure.  Highwayman/actor Richard Mace makes an amusing one-shot comrade, the Terileptils are awesome and gross, and the harlequin robots are gorgeous.  Plus, I always love it when the historical stories really incorporate history into the plot – the final shot is to die for.

A Short Ponder on Downton Abbey

 

Really, Downton Abbey is just an example for discussing new works set in the past (various Downton spoils ahead.)  When writers today pen period pieces, antiquated socially-unjust beliefs are a big consideration.  There’s a pull to align the heroes with modern thinking: early-19^th-century good guys are abolitionists, early-20^th-century good guys support women’s suffrage, and so on.  Understandable; many aren’t straight, white, able-bodied, land-owning Christian males, and people in general don’t root for bigots.  But go too far, and historical credibility is lost. 

 

Downton Abbey is inconsistent on this issue, tending to fall on the anachronistic side.  In the end, none of the Crawley girls acquiesce to their parents’ marital plans.  Each forges her own path, sometimes extreme (Sybil eloping with the socialist chauffeur, Edith cavorting with a married man) sometimes less so (though Mary eventually marries Matthew, it’s because she loves him, not because he’s the heir to Downton.)  And despite unhappiness or disapproval, Lord and Lady Grantham always ultimately accept matters.  Plus, Sybil is a huge supporter of women’s rights – following the suffragette movement, helping a housemaid find better employment, even small things like wearing harem pants – and Edith learns to drive and writes a newspaper column.

 

Being gay puts more than Thomas’s job at stake – homosexual acts were illegal in the U.K. until the ‘60s, so his outing is a potential police matter.  However, nearly everyone is on his side.  Mrs. Hughes is her usual wonderful self, Bates and Anna reach out to help, and Lord Grantham, one of the least open-minded on the show, says it’s nothing he didn’t see at Eton.  Furthermore, it’s widely agreed that Thomas didn’t choose to be gay.  Even Carson, whose reaction is the harshest, admits that Thomas can’t help his orientation.  My LGBT history is incomplete, but I’d have thought it was much later before average people believed sexuality isn’t a choice.

 

Downton didn’t really explore race until black jazz singer Jack appeared in series 4.  Very light steps here – all the Crawleys double-take when they first see him and tend to talk stiffly around his color, but they’re not openly rude to or dismissive of him.  There’s a sense that they’re at least mildly racist but careful not to be seen as such, which seems wildly inaccurate for 1920.  When Jack gets engaged to Rose, Mary cites societal disapproval and Rose’s own murky motivations in her argument against it.  The two speak cordially to one another about “if [they] lived in a better world,” focusing on the larger idea of social acceptance rather than what Mary thinks of a black man being romantically involved with her cousin, which feels like a copout.

 

All historically sketchy, but that’s the catch 22; do I want to see Mary be racist?  Of course not.  Lord Grantham’s popularity has nosedived as his less-enlightened attitudes have been revealed – while he’s tepidly tolerant of homosexuality and mostly keeps mum on race, his “Father Knows Best” approach to women is uncomfortable, and his blatantly anti-Catholic statements are just gross.  And it’s true that Thomas probably would’ve fared much worse in real life, but how could I have handled open rejection?  Carson “sympathetically” admitting it’s not Thomas’s fault he’s been “twisted by nature into something foul” is horrible.  If Anna or Mrs. Hughes had similarly denigrated him (not out of the question at that time,) I might’ve been done with the show.

 

All this is a long, rambling way to say I don’t know the answer.  What’s appropriate?  What’s true to history?  What will audiences accept?  It’ll take someone savvier than me to figure it out.

Top Five Short-Term Love Interests: The Mindy Project

Naturally, if you have any interest in the romances on The Mindy Project, then you know that Mindy/Danny is where it’s at.  However, given the gradual progression of their relationship and the time-honored will-they-won’t-they element of TV in general and sitcoms in particular, they spend plenty of time not dating one another.  Being a short-term, place-holder love interest can be a thankless job, but this show does a fantastic job of bringing in fun, entertaining wringers for Mindy to date.  Here are my favorites, though be forewarned:  I’ve been rewatching season 1, and that might be skewing my top five a bit.

 

Casey – Mindy’s hip pastor boyfriend is a lot of fun.  His job leads to some good plotlines – all the Haiti stuff, of course, and I love his panic when his Bible school kids get excited over Mindy’s description of Hinduism – and it also gives us the fabulous image of Mindy in her Tyler Perry church outfit.  Casey has amusing, slightly bickering chemistry with Mindy, and his prediction of what she’d be like as a pregnant woman is terrific.  He also gets plenty of good rom-com trope subversion, my favorites being the hilarious shower scene and the disastrous camping trip.

 

Josh – Heaven help me; he’s an epic sports-attorney tool, but I just love Josh.  I like his somewhat awkward cockiness (fake-scrolling through all the “Kaitlyns” in his contacts is a good moment) and the way he undermines any sweet thing he does by telling Mindy how much it cost.  He and Mindy seem to like each other in an almost begrudging way that’s funny and surprisingly endearing.  Even at his most jerkish, Josh makes me laugh by asking one of his pro-athlete clients for Downton Abbey updates – how can you not love it?

 

Sam – Mindy’s old friend from Jewish sleepover camp reconnects with her on FaceBook, and their one-shot episode is a blast.  Sam is now a soldier recently returned from Afghanistan, and Mindy tries to give him all the things he misses about civilian life (including girls’ shampoo and Nora Ephron movies.)  I like that their bond is based on their old friendship and they spend most of their time making each other laugh.  Also, the letter scene is pitch-perfect, and kudos to the casting director for finding such perfect 13-year-old versions of Mindy Kaling and Seth Rogen.

 

Charlie – Mindy first meets police officer Charlie when his daughter comes to Mindy as a patient.  Almost instantly, they have a combative chemistry not unlike Mindy’s with Danny, and in many ways, Charlie seems like an older version of everyone’s favorite curmudgeonly Italian doctor.  He has no qualms about confronting Mindy and wants to see better for her than she does for herself, like encouraging her to become more self-sufficient.  Plus, nothing is quite as much fun as Mindy arguing with guys she’s attracted to.

 

Jamie – The Office fan in me likes seeing B.J. Novak with Mindy Kaling again, in a relationship completely different from Ryan and Kelly.  He and Mindy have cute, casual chemistry – I like their dinner party meet-cute, and the way they bond over a hypothetical Gerard Butler/Kate Beckinsale movie is awesome.  His main plot leans heavy on the rom-com stuff, since the tightness between him and his best friend Lucy smacks of When Harry Met Sally, and Mindy worries that she’s a bump on the road to Jamie’s real love story.  Oh, and his job (he’s a Latin professor) provides us with Mindiana Jones, one of my absolute favorite bits on the show.  

Favorite Characters: Jack Benjamin (Kings)

 

Thinking about the excellent television specimen that is Kings naturally lead me to think about this character.  In a show populated with complex, richly-drawn people, Jack is maybe the most interesting to watch.

 

The only son of King Silas, Jack couldn’t be too much further from his biblical counterpoint.  While the Jonathan of the Old Testament is defined by his love for David and the endless, selfless aid he gives his friend in difficult times, Jack isn’t exactly a big David fan.  At every turn, the new golden boy of Gilboa seems to undermine Jack’s already-tenuous position – he comes seemingly out of nowhere to gain the people’s acclaim, coveted military posts, and the heart of Jack’s sister Michelle (who could potentially succeed their father on the throne, depending on Silas’s whim.)

 

As such, Jack feels threatened by David, and various points of the season find him at odds with everyone’s favorite hero.  His desperate attempts to outshine David often come frustratingly to nothing, and his unsure claim on the future crown leaves him vicious and bitter.  But then, Jack has a lot to feel vicious and bitter about.  Despite the skirt-chasing antics Jack performs for the paparazzi, Silas knows about his secret boyfriend.  He tells Jack in no uncertain terms that, if he wants to be king, he “cannot be what God made [him]” and has to cut Joseph out of his heart.

 

In other words, Jack has been living with the pressure of staying closeted when he’s the most photographed eligible bachelor in Gilboa, his own father calls him a disgrace (literally, “disgrace” is the word he uses – it’s disgusting,) he’s forced to give up the man he loves in order to become what he’s been wanted since birth, and some aw-shucks kid from the sticks has just breezed into town, seemingly replacing him before his eyes.  Jack is “fighting for [his] right to exist,” and given his moral upbringing at the Machiavellian hand of Silas, this leads him to do some unscrupulous and downright despicable things.

 

He’s a great character because there are so many forces at work in him.  He’s frequently self-serving, and that often expresses itself in at least borderline villainy, but over the course of the season, he also grows and makes small steps toward being a truer person (it has to be said that these steps forward are usually followed by three or four steps backward – Jack will be Jack.)  He’s a character forever in flux, and he always brings good drama.  On the more sympathetic side, his moments of pain and self-loathing are almost shockingly searing, and the show, to its credit, deftly makes sure that they explain his behavior without justifying it

 

I remember when the show first aired, rumblings were made online about the tired insensitively of the only gay main character being nefarious.  However, while a good portion of Jack’s anger and mistrustfulness comes from feeling forced to live a lie, there’s no indication that his sexuality makes him inherently immoral.  Other characters make sneering remarks about his “boys,” insinuating something dirty in his orientation, when in actually, he wants nothing more than his loving monogamous relationship.  Furthermore, as the series goes on, we see that Jack’s love for Joseph is perhaps his best chance for redemption.  The romantic scenes between them give us our most genuine look at Jack, and his bravest and most altruistic actions come as a response to Joseph, “the only real thing [he] ever touched.”  I really appreciate that.

The Navigator (1924)

 

I’ve been on a major Buster Keaton kick lately, ‘cause he’s awesome.  Expect a spate of Buster-related posts in the days to come.  I’ll do my best to space them out, but no promises.

 

Of the Buster features I’ve recently watched, I think The Navigator is my favorite.  It’s fantastically funny, Buster’s comedic sensibilities are in full force, and he’s paired with a leading lady who’s game and spirited.  For a movie that was basically born out of Buster’s love of machines and gadgets (step one:  buy a large passenger ship, step two:  think of all the nautical gags you can, step three:  make a movie,) it’s incredibly enjoyable.

 

Rollo Treadway is one of Buster’s dandy characters, a wealthy young man who takes a chauffeur to go across the street.  For reasons of absurdity, he and Betsy, the equally pampered girl who’s just turned down his marriage proposal, wind up together as the sole passengers on an unmanned ship.  Together, they face storms, enemies, and other dangers, all without the basic knowledge required to boil an egg.  Will love be rekindled as the pair muddles through life at sea?  It’s a silent comedy – what do you think?

 

Rollo and Betsy’s floundering efforts to fend for themselves are worth the price of admission.  Their first attempt at breakfast is a riot, from Betsy delicately plunking three beans into the coffee pot to Rollo taking a meat cleaver to an impenetrable tin of sardines.  With so much trouble in the kitchen, just imagine the difficulties they have with the finer points of navigating and maintaining a ship.  However, it wouldn’t feel like a Buster Keaton film without some creative and industrious problem-solving, and watching them learn how to survive is a blast.

 

The gags are of course the highlight of the film, most of whic feel organic to the admittedly-thin story.  The premise leaves room for a lot of nice comedic set-pieces, like fussing with the lifeboat and inevitably needing to don a diving suit for performing underwater repairs.  The comedy comes fast and furious without giving the movie the meandering gag-to-gag quality that you sometimes see in these kinds of films. 

 

Naturally, Buster himself is terrific.  I love his dandies, and Rollo is a terrific example.  He’s clueless and prissy (his initial response to having his hats blown off by the wind is to simply put on new hats,) but he’s no quitter, and his fumbling tenacity is endearing.  There are some great chances to show off his physical comedy, and you don’t realize how badly you need to see Buster Keaton dueling a swordfish until you’ve seen it.  Kathryn McGuire’s Betsy is probably one of the best women in any of his movies.  Though Betsy obviously isn’t super-capable, neither is Rollo, and her ineptness is almost as funny as his.  She’s similarly irrepressible and is forever an active presence (if not always a helpful one) in the story.  Plus, the woman is up for anything; I won’t say she’s a match for Buster’s athleticism, but she gets flung, dragged, and carried all over that ship, and she keeps popping right back up again.

 

Warnings

 

Some mild violence and 1920s racial insensitivity.

Kings (2009)

 

After a while, it gets a little repetitive to say “X is unlike anything else on television,” but Kings is so novel that it isn’t readily described.  I remember watching it on NBC when it first aired – I’d been drawn in by the premise, but the show itself didn’t seem to be living up to its potential, and for a few weeks, I watched with an entertained but slightly inattentive air.  Still, I was disappointed when it was canceled and made a point to seek it out when the remaining episodes were burned off during the summer.

 

Somewhere along the line, though, Kings became something wonderful.  I can’t quite pinpoint the when, where, or why.  It’s wholly possible that I wasn’t giving it the proper focus to start with, or that the show comes together in retrospect – whenever I rewatch it now, it seems awesome from start to finish, and I can’t figure out why it didn’t grab me right away.

 

Kings is a present-day, alternate-universe retelling of the biblical story of David.  In the fictional country of Gilboa, modern technology, media, and weaponry meet a ruling monarchy where the king talks to God and has visions from heaven.  He and his capital city are rocked by the arrival of David Shepherd, a young Gilboan solider who made headlines when he stood up to an enemy tank.  Salt-of-the-earth, guileless David navigates his newfound celebrity status, looking for signs of God in his life and trying to stay on the good side of the often-tempestuous royal family.

 

Most TV shows that take place outside the real world are sci-fi or fantasy (like Battlestar Galactica or Game of Thrones,) and even shows with fantastical elements often ground them in real-life settings (like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Dead Like Me.)  Kings, however, is in some ways a standard drama that puts time and effort into world-building that’s generally relegated to genre pieces:  Gilboa has its own emblems, flags, and bordering countries, its own history separate from ours.  The lush art direction has a sharp eye for detail, and despite the familiarity of the modern-day trappings, you never lose sight of the fact that this is somewhere new.

 

The dialogue has an elevated, almost Shakespearian flair that goes well with the loftiness of the drama.  Exalted speech trips fluently off of King Silas’s tongue, and David speaks an interesting mix of earthy and poetic.  With political puppet theater, prophetic dreams, and fatal flaws, there’s an old-world feel to the plot, stories that don’t get told much anymore.  The biblical source material is cleverly incorporated and reimagined, but the show has its own story to tell as well.  Sadly, there’s only twelve episodes, and the ending far from resolves matters, but numerous threads that seem disparate early on entwine to create a vivid tapestry by season’s end.

 

The whole show is propelled by a strong ensemble of fascinating characters.  The royal family is a narrative feast, and David makes a good, conflicted hero, a man trying to do his best under massively difficult circumstances.  Chris Egan gives a fine performances, and the rest of the cast, which includes Ian McShane, Sebastian Stan (the Winter Soldier!), Eomann Walker, Susanna Thompson, and Macaulay Culkin (surprisingly great in a supporting role), is sublime.

 

Warnings

 

Sexual content, swearing, drinking, a few drug references, violence, and thematic elements.

Relationship Spotlight: Simon & River Tam (Firefly)

 

Like most of Joss Whedon works, Firefly best quality is its magnificent ensemble of characters and the relationships between them.  No doubt the show will be featured again in relationship spotlights to come, but first, I want to look at the extraordinary bond between the Tam siblings.

 

Back when I discussed the Murrays, I said it would have been so easy for Meg to resent her prodigious genius of a baby brother.  Much the same could be said about Simon; while he makes it clear that he’s incredibly smart and accomplished in his own right, he maintains that he looks like “an idiot child” next to River.  Her brilliance is wide-ranging and effortless, but it’s never been the slightest issue between them.  Even when they were children, he would just smile indulgently as she corrected his textbooks.

 

Despite their central-planet upbringing and their family’s wealth, they’ve made their way by leaning on one another.  When River is in dire straits at the Academy, her parents regard her nonsensical letters as just another of her silly games, while Simon is the one to realize they’re encoded.  His good name, career, and fortune are all given gladly in his efforts to help River get out, and he aligns himself with Serenity and her crew of outlaws to take River on the run.

 

His character’s defining attribute is the care he provides for his little sister.  He’s entirely motivated by helping her recover from the trauma, torture, and experimentation she suffered at the Academy.  In order to do so, his own morals and safety are of little consequence – even though he’s a doctor and dedicated to protecting life, he commits violence for River’s sake, and the straight-laced young citizen with the pampered childhood plans a heist of an Alliance hospital to gain access to specialized medical equipment and understand her condition better.

 

To the show’s credit, Simon’s self-sacrifice stops short of saintliness.  As much as he’s devoted to helping River, he’s frequently overwhelmed by their new life as fugitives and by her altered mental state from her experiences.  She’s returned to him with erratic behavior, dangerous tendencies, and a fractured thought process.  Sometimes he’s broken by his inability to help her, and sometimes he’s fed up with being her caretaker.  He loses his temper and speaks in anger, but at the end of the day, his lot is cast with hers.

 

It’s a little harder to gauge the relationship from River’s side, since her character is so wrapped in psychoses and trauma.  As such, she’s often not terribly present in her own scenes, but to the extent that she is able to push through the muddle and connect, she connects with Simon.  She’s aware of all that Simon’s given up to save her, and her despair at her situation is magnified by feeling like a useless burden to her brother.  One of the most affecting moments in the series comes, not in an episode, but in the movie Serenity, when River is able to return the favor and take care of Simon for a change.

 

Beyond the large-looming plots of sacrifice, mental instability, and evading the law, they’re simply a great pair.  I love the hints of comparatively normal sibling behavior we get in River’s more lucid moments:  the way they tease each other, and the brief scenes in which they’re allowed to enjoy themselves.  This is where an idea of the real River comes out, where Simon is at his most genuine and relaxed – they really do bring out the best in one another.

Favorite Characters: Brienne of Tarth (Game of Thrones)

 

Last year, I spent a few months crafting a Brienne costume for Halloween, complete with papier-mâché armor and crocheted chainmail.  The maid of Tarth is just that awesome, and today, I’m going to count the ways.  (Note:  I haven’t read the books, so this post will be based strictly on the show.)

 

We first meet Brienne in season 2, laying an epic beatdown on Loras Tyrell.  Thanks to her father’s support, she’s been well trained and has fine weapons and armor, but her fighting prowess is more than that.  Even in a world of male knights, she cuts an impressive figure (actress Gwendoline Christie is 6’3”) and uses her size to her advantage, barreling fearlessly into her opponents and coming at them with brute force.  Additionally, she has a strong survivor streak and, while she holds the knights’ code of honor and chivalry very dear to her, she doesn’t shy away from scrapping if it’s the best way to protect herself in a fight.

 

(On a side note, I love seeing a tough, can-fight-with-the-boys woman who’s big.  As much as I love Buffy, Black Widow, and their ilk, extremely petite butt-kicking women can wear thin.)

 

I mentioned honor.  Though Brienne repeatedly explains that she’s not actually a knight, she embodies the spirit of knighthood more than any other character in the show.  Those to whom she’s sworn her fealty receive it whole-heartedly, and while she can clean up at a tournament, her real goal is to serve.  After swearing her sword to Catelyn Stark, she treks across the country with Jaime Lannister, the North’s most wanted and grade-A smart-mouth, in order to return him to his family and retrieve Catelyn’s daughters.  It’s a long, harsh, aggravating task, but Brienne doesn’t allow anything to sway her from it, and even when circumstances change dramatically, she still tries to figure out how to fulfill her duty within these new parameters.

 

In addition to her obvious physical strength, Brienne displays strength of character at pretty much every turn.  Just to do what she does within her world requires tremendous fortitude – other knights ridicule her endlessly, and despite her incredible talents on the field, she’s widely known as a freak and a joke.  For her to hold her head up in the face of their taunts, to set out on quests when no one will take her seriously and aid her, and to defy the traditional role of women in her society is amazing.  Even something as small as cutting her hair short and wearing pants is radical in Westeros.

 

This is a woman who’s forged a hard road, one who’s suffered a lot of indignity and cruelty, but who still dedicates herself to doing the right thing.  Her firm convictions are unshakeable; however, that’s not to say she’s inflexibly rigid.  Over the course of the series, she’s learned to reevaluate some of her initial judgments of people.  I’ve already talked about her changing relationship with Jaime, how she’s grown to understand him as more than the Kingslayer.  Now, by the end of season 4, she knows and trusts him well enough to speak to him in confidence, and to confront him if she takes issue with his actions.  Podrick is another character about whom she’s changed her mind, and she’s started to see the value in her squire.  Brienne’s kneejerk tendency to write people off is probably her most problematic quality, so it’s good to see her becoming more and more open seeing the potential in others.