I highly recommend reading the article "The Truth Alone Will Not Set You Free" by Mark Hedges, regarding the destruction and replacement of American culture with mass, corporate culture ("junk culture") and the repercussions of this shift. Below are some highlights.
The most important struggle will be to wrest the organs of communication from corporations that use mass media to demonize movements of social change and empower proto-fascist movements such as the Christian right.
American culture—or cultures, for we once had distinct regional cultures—was systematically destroyed in the 20th century by corporations. These corporations used mass communication, as well as an understanding of the human subconscious, to turn consumption into an inner compulsion. Old values of thrift, regional identity that had its own iconography, aesthetic expression and history, diverse immigrant traditions, self-sufficiency, a press that was decentralized to provide citizens with a voice in their communities were all destroyed to create mass, corporate culture. New desires and habits were implanted by corporate advertisers to replace the old. Individual frustrations and discontents could be solved, corporate culture assured us, through the wonders of consumerism and cultural homogenization. American culture, or cultures, was replaced with junk culture and junk politics. And now, standing on the ash heap, we survey the ruins. The very slogans of advertising and mass culture have become the idiom of common expression, robbing us of the language to make sense of the destruction. We confuse the manufactured commodity culture with American culture.
The emergence of corporate and government public relations, which drew on the studies of mass psychology by Sigmund Freud and others after World War I, found its bible in Walter Lippmann’s book “Public Opinion,” a manual for the power elite’s shaping of popular sentiments. Lippmann argued that the key to leadership in the modern age would depend on the ability to manipulate “symbols which assemble emotions after they have been detached from their ideas.” The public mind could be mastered, he wrote, through an “intensification of feeling and a degradation of significance.”
The modern world, as Kafka predicted, has become a world where the irrational has become rational, where lies become true. And facts alone will be powerless to thwart the mendacity spun out through billions of dollars in corporate advertising, lobbying and control of traditional sources of information. We will have to descend into the world of the forgotten, to write, photograph, paint, sing, act, blog, video and film with anger and honesty that have been blunted by the parameters of traditional journalism.
“Read ‘The Gettysburg Address,’ ” [Stuart] Ewen [author of “Captains of Consciousness: Advertising and the Social Roots of the Consumer Culture” and “PR: A Social History of Spin”] said. “Read Frederick Douglass’ autobiography or his newspaper. Read ‘The Communist Manifesto.’ Read Darwin’s ‘Descent of Man.’ All of these things are filled with an understanding that communicating ideas and producing forms of public communication that empower people, rather than disempowering people, relies on an integrated understanding of who the public is and what it might be. We have a lot to learn from the history of rhetoric. We need to think about where we are going. We need to think about what 21st century pamphleteering might be. We need to think about the ways in which the rediscovery of rhetoric—not lying, but rhetoric in its more conventional sense—can affect what we do.
From Jonathan McIntosh of Rebellious Pixels comes this brilliantly edited pop culture piece. He says of his work:
In this remixed narrative Edward Cullen from the Twilight series meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s an example of transformative storytelling serving as a visual critique of Edward’s character and generally creepy behavior. Seen through Buffy’s eyes some of the more patriarchal gender roles and sexist Hollywood tropes embedded in the Twilight saga are exposed in hilarious ways.
A-to the-men. I will never, ever forgive Twilight author Stephanie Meyer for describing her whiney, helpless, and devotionally dependent protagonist (who she mistakenly refers to as a heroine -- not the same thing) to the greatest literary heroine readers have ever known, Elizabeth Bennett. If anything, the video above just proves how progressive Joss Whedon has been with his heroines, and how Twilight has set women back centuries.
Via Throwing Things: John Hodgman was the keynote speaker at the Radio & TV Correspondents' Dinner, where his primary topic was that of bridging the gap between nerds and jocks. Whereas the previous presidency was made up of jocks, our new presidency is comprised of nerds. Hodgman described our president -- "with a Spock-ish calm and gangly frame" -- as the man who is bringing an emphasis on science and objective reality back into our nation. He adds, "There is even talk of some states decriminalizing evolution."
At the 8:25 mark, Hodgman questions the president's "nerd credentials" through a series of slides, and at the 9:29 mark, Obama throws up the Vulcan salute without hesitation.
• Cinematical has this to say about the upcoming Cold Souls, which has perhaps one of the creepier posters I've seen in a while: "Paul Giamatti [stars] as an actor (appropriately named Paul Giamatti) who decides he wants to put some of his soul in storage in order to help better tackle a new role. [...] Cold Souls is a beautifully shot film, and it also becomes more than a little bit moving, as Giamatti struggles with a question we've all asked ourselves: Is it possible to remove the burden of our soul without taking away the benefit of it? Is it the very weight we struggle under that makes us strong? Deep questions, but Cold Souls is also funny; there are fast, laugh-out-loud gags like Giamatti's compensation anxiety over the small size of his extracted soul ("It looks like a chickpea!") or the Russian trophy wife obsessed with getting an American actor's extracted soul so she can implant it and do better Soap Opera work."
• Tim Burton's artwork will be featured at MoMA. The show will include more than 700 pieces: paintings, drawings, storyboards, maquettes, puppets and other work created or designed by Burton.
• I Watch Stuff has the poster for Ice Age 3 and makes a notable observation: the squirrel character's face is very phallic (twig and berries and all) as he ogles the eyelash-batting female squirrel. Now if only this poster were in 3D...
• Via The Movie Blog, Natalie Portman has joined Darren Aronofsky's film Black Swan, about "a veteran ballerina (Portman) who finds herself locked in a competitive situation with a rival dancer, with the stakes and twists increasing as the dancers approach a big performance. But it’s unclear whether the rival is a supernatural apparition or if the protagonist is simply having delusions."
• Cinematical's James Rocchi has a positive Sundance review of Moon, the "smart science fiction" thriller starring Sam Rockwell.
• While we're on the topic of science fiction, here's an awesome timeline by Dan Meth detailing when the movies were made (to the left of the vertical line) and how far into the future they take place (to the right of the vertical line). Click to enlarge.
• Surprise, surprise. The Hangover is getting a sequel. Why should Hollywood have any original ideas when they can capitalize off a previous success? It seems like any box office success will automatically get a sequel.
• Here's a current debate regarding female protagonists in films: Cinematical responds to Linda Holmes' request for better female leads. Holmes begs Pixar to have a female lead that isn't a princess, and Monika Bartyzel at Cinematical begs people to realize that this isn't a political issue. Holmes makes the case that "little Russell, in Up, is Asian-American, right? And that's not a big plot point; presumably, he just is because there's no particular reason he shouldn't be. You don't need him to be, but you don't need him not to be, either. It's not politics; it's just seeing the whole big world." Bartyzel agrees: "Look, women aren't flukes. We love, we hate, we learn, we fight. We go to movies. We want diversity in our interests just like everyone else. We want to see films with females in the lead roles where the characterization isn't seeped in cliche. [...] And we'd like to express our desires without having it fall into a political discussion, without our reasonable desire thrown off as a feminist rant or bit of political correctness."
• And lastly, URLesque has a list of the 10 best recut movie trailers, including When Harry Met Sally and Amelie as horror films, the latter of which is really fantastic ("You can run. She doesn't have to."). Of course, they've included my favorite recut trailer: Sleepless in Seattle as a thriller about an obsessive stalker -- which actually isn't too far from the truth.
Thanks to my friend Jen for passing along quite possibly the cutest website I've ever been to. MY MILK TOOF, by artist Inhae, is a photographic journey of two teeth, Ickle and Lardee, on various adventures (from bathing to playing to going out for a walk). Below is one of the sweeter stories, and the photography is really quite stunning (once you look past the subject matter -- although, in my opinion, the "teef" only elevate the photographs). Look, for example, at Ickle and Lardee with dandelions, Ickle and Lardee looking at the world through 3D-colored glasses, or Lardee's hesitation to bathe. Another particularly well photographed story is of a mellow afternoon; the colors are absolutely beautiful.
"Awww, Planty looks sad."
"Be right back."
"Okay Planty, here's Lardee's prescription for feeling down..."
"One:"
"A warm milk tea with lots of sugar, just the way Lardee like."
Oh. Em. Gee. Mark-Paul Gosselaar appeared on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon as 90s icon Zack Morris. (The acid wash jeans! The white high top sneakers! THAT HAIR!) For years and years, MPG has refused to talk about his Saved by the Bell days -- understandably so, as he was making the transition into other projects (he's currently on TNT's Raising the Bar) -- but, because of Jimmy Fallon's obsession with reuniting the cast of Saved by the Bell, MPG sucked up his pride and took us on a nostalgic journey of utter awesomeness. There are references galore -- Kelly's romance with Jeff! Drug abusing Johnny Dakota! And of course, the Zack Morris phone makes an appearance. And to top it all off, MPG joins the band for a rendition of Zack Attack's "Friends Forever."
The only thing missing was a reference to Jessie Spano's "I'm so excited, I'm so... so... scared" moment. So to make up for it, here's a link to a shirt making that reference.
I think my heart exploded from too much awesome.
Update, 06/11:Star Pulse has an interview with Mark-Paul Gosselaar regarding his frak-tastic stint on Late Night. Topics discussed include MPG forgetting about the move from Indiana to California (from Good Morning, Miss Bliss to Saved by the Bell, respectively); MPG analogizing that Jimmy Fallon's reunion idea is like putting a gun to the cast members' heads (they have to do it now that everyone wants it); and, in a moment of humility, MPG confesses he was nervous during the live broadcast. Aww, TIME IN!
Three things to note before I begin my review: (1) Most importantly, I will be discussing the film in full, including spoilers and ruining surprises in the film, so continue reading at your own risk. Or come back and read it after you've seen the movie. (2) Many critics in the blogosphere are claiming that Pixar's Up is the funniest film the company has made to date, but I don't recall crying in Monster's Inc. or Toy Story (though, at times, they did pull at my heart strings). There are indeed humorous parts in the film, but they are not counterbalanced evenly by the somber parts. For the most part, Up is a meditation on grieving and the impermanence of life. But the real, more Up-lifting message of the movie, without any trace of cliché, is that the journey far surpasses the destination. (3) I cried five times during the movie -- FIVE -- and I loved every minute of it. Pixar created a near-perfect film. I would only put WALL-E and Monster's Inc. above it.
Synopsis:Up follows the adventures of grumpy ol' Carl Fredricksen, modeled after Walter Matthau and Spencer Tracy, and stow-away Wilderness Explorer Russell as they head to the (unfortunately) fictional Paradise Falls to fulfill Fredricksen's long-forgotten dream of traveling. Using thousands of helium-inflated balloons, Mr. Fredricksen's house is lifted high into the skies as the primary vehicle for their adventure. Russell and Mr. Fredricksen's already onerous journey is interrupted by Kevin (a female bird, named by Russell), Dug (a dog with a collar enabling his thoughts to be heard -- "Squirrel!"), and Charles Muntz, an explorer and Mr. Fredricksen's childhood hero. After returning from an exploration with the bones of an unknown bird, Muntz was declared a fraud and he disappeared, vowing not to return until he had captured the live bird and redeemed his reputation. Mr. Fredricksen has to choose between saving the meddlesome Russell and his pet Kevin, reaching Paradise Falls before the helium deflates, or helping his childhood hero capture the bird.
The power of silence: For anyone who's been paying attention, Pixar has an unparalleled brilliance in the art of silence. All of their film's preceding shorts are entirely silent -- "Geri's Game" is still my favorite -- and WALL-E took this devotion to storytelling in a lengthier direction. Up also contains an element of silence, and although it's only five minutes long, it is by far the most affecting.
First of all, we are introduced to Carl Fredricksen as a child. The film opens with him watching new reel footage of Charles Muntz's career. Dressed in an aviator hat and goggles and holding a blue balloon, he comes across an abandoned home -- not unlike the old Granville house in It's a Wonderful Life, another home of great symbolic meaning -- where he meets a young and very talkative girl named Ellie. Young Carl is stunned not only by her vivacity but by her shared adoration for Charles Muntz. Not once do we hear Carl talk, which is important because it is the older, grieving Carl with whom the audience is supposed to identify and not the younger, dream-filled child. One night, a blue balloon enters Carl's bedroom window, followed by Ellie and an incomplete scrapbook, waiting to be detailed with great adventures. She makes Carl promise to take her to Paradise Falls -- to cross his heart -- a promise that we soon learn he failed to keep.
What follows is a five minute silent montage of Ellie and Carl's marriage and life together, from painting a mailbox with their handprints to learning that they are unable to have children. They have moved into the old Granville house, as I shall refer to it, and we see them washing windows from opposite sides (her smile becomes a reflection of his), Carl working as a balloon salesman and Ellie as a bird handler, and putting extra coins into a Paradise Falls jar. Other financial obligations force them to repeatedly break the jar, and the dream of visiting Paradise Falls become a faint memory as Ellie grows weaker and dies of old age. After her death, cleaning the windows becomes a reminder of loneliness as Ellie's smile is not there to greet him, and the mailbox with their interlocking handprints becomes a physical reminder of their time together. Carl spends his days in a chair next to Ellie's chair.
Within the first twenty minutes of the movie, I was crying. Not just one tear, but many. And it was the power in the montage's storytelling that kept me emotionally tied to the misunderstood Mr. Fredricksen throughout the movie. He was merely a man who missed his wife, and he refused to change any material thing in her absence. It was only the threat of being moved to a retirement home and the recollection of a cross-your-heart promise that prompted him to do the impossible -- travel to Paradise Falls with the house that he and Ellie made into a home.
The house: Essentially, Up is both a coming of age tale (for Russell) and an unfinished love story (for Carl, who is still dealing with the loss of his wife). Russell, a child of divorce, is the perfect company for Carl as both of them are dealing with the weight of loss -- represented by the house, which both tie to their waists as a means of keeping it from floating away. The house represents family, something that Russell and Carl both feel is lacking in their lives, and the house is a constant physical manifestation of that loss. Only after carrying the burden of the house and becoming friends in the process are either of them able to regain purpose.
The house also, of course, represents Ellie. As her picture hangs on the wall in the living room, Carl often talks to it -- the picture specifically and the house generally -- and it looks to both Russell and the audience as though Carl perceives the house to be his wife. And it is. Every inch of that house contains a reminder of Ellie -- a bird she once painted, her scrapbook of memories, her chair, her picture on the wall, etc. When Carl initially takes flight, he steers his house in the living room where young Ellie pretended to take the reigns of a flying blimp. And the implausibility of a flying house -- by balloons, no less -- is ignored because of what the house represents. The film's use of balloons clearly orchestrates a life-long connection between Ellie and trying to reach for your dreams, but it's also a visual personification of Ellie floating towards the heavens and Carl trying to keep her close to the ground. Carl and Russell eventually reach Paradise Falls, but they are on the wrong side of the canyon and have limited time to take the house to its proper location before the helium in the balloons runs out. The helium, then, becomes a metaphor for time. Just like sand in an hourglass, time is escaping and Carl is constantly reminded of that burden.
This leads me to another point in the movie in which I began to cry: Exasperated and lacking time himself, Muntz lights Carl's house on fire to deter Carl from following him. It wasn't just a house on fire; it was Ellie. Luckily for us, the house does not burn down and Carl is able to place the home in its rightful place. Russell, however, has been kidnapped by Muntz and are floating back to the States with the exotic bird, Kevin, with them. Carl sits down in his chair -- next to Ellie's chair, in the very spot he crossed-his-heart he would take her -- and he can't be at peace because he knows that Russell, who has becomes Carl's new family, needs him. In order to make his house fly again, Carl unloads his house (and thus his baggage, his past), leaving all material items in a heap outside. All save two items, his and Ellie's chairs, which are set upright beside the heap of furniture. Insert waterworks again.
The importance of family: Before Carl discovers that Russell's been kidnapped, he leafs through Ellie's childhood scrapbook. He finds momentos of her married life with Carl, as well as a final note thanking him for their own adventure (life) and then encouraging him to go have his own. I somehow found a way to hold back the tears at this moment, but then Carl goes to the door looking for Russ and finds Dug, who says, "I was hiding under the porch because I love you." And then I began crying. Dug was once an additional burden for Fredricksen, but now he has been accepted as a loving companion who chooses to go on an adventure with Fredricksen even when he wasn't wanted. The familial presence of Dug is only heightened by Kevin, who, as a bird, becomes an extension of Ellie. Ellie was a bird handler and created a wooden bird, one of the many items Carl tries to salvage throughout the narrative, and so it only seems appropriate that he extends his love of Ellie onto Kevin, who becomes a temporary replacement for his wife. At the end of the adventure, Carl has to say goodbye to Kevin and release her back with her family, just as he had to say goodbye to Ellie.
The importance of dreams: One of the many, many morals of this movie is that dreams, whether realized or not, are important and that sometimes we embark on journeys without even realizing it. John Lennon once said, "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans." At one particularly profound moment, we learn why Russell is so intent on receiving his "Help the Elderly" Wilderness Explorer badge. Since his parents' divorce, which is never stated and only alluded to, Russ never sees his father except when he's awarded a new badge. There is an empty spot on Russ's sash -- right over his heart -- where the badge will be placed. He explains to Fredricksen that afterwards, he and his dad would go to an ice cream shop and count the red and blue cars passing by. Fredricksen rolls his eyes in annoyance, but then Russ says, "I know this stuff may seem boring, but it's the boring stuff I remember." This is yet another moment when I began to cry because this, of course, mirrors the earlier montage of Fredricksen remembering the quotidian of his life with Ellie.
At the end of the film, Russ gets his badge, but his father never shows up. Then we hear a familiar grumpy voice pushing through the crowd to pin the badge on Russ's sash. It's Mr. Fredricksen, but instead of the badge, he's pinned a grape soda pop top Ellie had pinned on his lapel when they were children. Once again, Up has illustrated a deep and profound love through the passing of a material object, and I... well, you know what I did. After the ceremony, Russell and Fredricksen go to the curb of the ice cream store and count the red and blue cars passing by. In a quick montage, the film closes with the future adventures of Russ and Fredricksen, two lost persons who found a new family and new dreams to have together.
Russell had the dream to get his Wilderness Explorers badge, which was really an excuse for him to spend time with his absent father, and Fredricksen had the dream to go to Paradise Falls with Ellie. Both of these dreams were important to the individuals who held them, but both were able to see the new adventures right before them.
Dean Fraser, artist of the Springfield Punx series, enjoys taking pop culture characters (and real people) and turning them into Simpsons-style characters. When you go to his website, you'll find that he has a healthy obsession with all things related to Batman (he has at least four different variations on The Joker and three on The Penguin), and he's currently doing a series of Lost characters (Ben Linus, Charlie, and Hurley). I really enjoy and appreciate the work he does, and I hope you do too. His Arrested Development series (including some secondary characters!) is especially entertaining.
Update, May 30th: Here are some Lost characters. (l-r) John Locke, Ben Linus (he does get beat up a lot), and Sawyer (aka Jim LeFleur)
(l-r) Rorschach from Watchmen, Marty McFly and Doc Brown from Back to the Future
(l-r) Dwight from The Office, Captain Freakin' Planet, Dr. Greg House from House
Late Night Gods: (l-r) Steven Colbert, Craig Ferguson (complete with yodeling monkey!), and Conan O'Brien
Arrested Development alert! (l-r) Tobias "I Think I Just Blue Myself" Fünke, Steve "Steve Holt!" Holt, and Buster "I'm a Monster!" Bluth
Between seasons 2 and 3 of Lost the writers and producers created an alternate reality game (ARG) known as The Lost Experience. In short, it was intended to engage the audience in a narrative that would be too difficult to tell on the show itself. Videos were created and hidden on the internet, following a band of contemporary characters following the Dharma Initiative and the Flight 815 hoax. The Lost Experience supposedly followed the story of Lost, and those who chose to engage in the experience would be rewarded with extra information while those who didn't follow the game (and only watched the show) would not be missing anything. And for the most part, that's been true. I stopped following easter eggs on the internet after season 3, but there is one part of the Lost Experience that has become part of the mythology for me, a major part that has yet to be addressed on the show: the Valenzetti Equation.
The Lostpedia website explains:
According to the 1975 orientation film in the Sri Lanka Video, the Valenzetti Equation "predicts the exact number of years and months until humanity extinguishes itself." During the video, Alvar Hanso also states that the radio transmitter on the Island, will "broadcast the core numerical values of the Valenzetti Equation." The numbers, 4, 8, 15, 16, 23 and 42, are explained in the Sri Lanka Video, as the numerical values to the core environmental and human factors of the Valenzetti Equation. Alvar Hanso also states in the video that the purpose of the DHARMA Initiative is to change the numerical values of any one of the core factors in the equation in order to give humanity a chance to survive by, effectively, changing doomsday. However, Thomas Mittelwerk reveals that as of 2006, they have failed to change the values through manipulating the environment, as the equation continues to arrive at the same six numbers.
The equation, therefore, is a mathematical prediction of the end of days, and Dharma is part of the experiment to change the equation. So here are my questions: (1) Why hasn't the show explained either the Valenzetti Equation or Dharma's purpose? Having just finished season 5, I would think the Cuse and Lindelof would have incorporated this background information into the story by now. Changing the equation explains why Dharma is experimenting with polar bears in tropical climates, electro-magnetism, and time-travel (the bunnies). (2) The purpose of the numbers 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, and 42 are still being depicted on the show as coincidental. When they were etching the numbers into the Swan's door, why wasn't there an explanation as to why those numbers were chosen? And (3) the show is heavily invested in this idea of variables. If the following theory is correct (which I attribute entirely to my mother), then why hasn't the Valenzetti Equation been mentioned?
If the show does not incorporate the Valenzetti Equation into the last season of the show, I will be very disappointed. The following explanation of the show has allowed me to accept and appreciate the characters, their ridiculous circumstances (and even more ridiculous decisions), and to embrace the tone of the show rather than merely criticize the reality of it.
The End-All, Explain-All Theory (that makes Lost better than it actually is)
If we assume that changing the Valenzetti Equation is in fact part of Lost's mythology -- and I really hope it is because it explains so much (for a show that explains so little) -- then we can connect Jacob and Esau's "game" to the equation as well. Let's say that Jacob and Esau are god-like characters (not necessarily the Judeo-Christian God, but some sort of metaphysical beings), who are engaged in an eternal debate concerning the quality of humanity. To borrow the over-arching question of Battlestar Galactica -- Is humanity worth saving? Season 5's finale began with Esau stating, "They come, fight, they destroy, they corrupt. It always ends the same." It refers to the cycle of destruction in humanity's history, and cyles are traceably mathematical in nature, so Esau could be representative of the Valenzetti Equation. He predicts and awaits for humankind of destroy itself. (I will ignore, for now, what the loophole is and why Esau is intent on killing Jacob. Perhaps Esau isn't interested in saving humanity.) Jacob's duty, therefore, is to prove to Esau that humanity is worth saving -- that the outcome of the equation/cycle can be changed -- by choosing randomly selected individuals to represent the human race.
The random selection is important. Sure, Jacob could have chosen Buddhist monks or philanthropists to come to the island, but the point is that humanity is flawed. Our heroes are flawed. Our heroes make mistakes. Our heroes are not incredibly intelligent. They are average people who are conflicted between their hearts and their heads, between doing what is right and doing what is necessary. And as Daniel Faraday mentioned before he died, our characters are the variables. Not variables in time travel, but variables in the equation. Faraday noted that free will is what changes the course of history. Our heroes were chosen to save humanity through their choices.
In the finale, Jacob is reading Flannery O'Connor's Everything that Rises Must Converge collection of short stories outside of the hospital where Locke's father pushes him out the window. Wikipedia describes the collection as follows:
In the story after which the work is titled, human weaknesses are exposed and important moral questions are explored through everyday situations. Critics view the story as a prime example of O’Connor’s literary skills and moral views. [...] Through irony, the blindness and ignorance of the characters are exposed. The title Everything That Rises Must Converge refers to an underlying religious message central to her work: aiming to expose the sinful nature of humanity that often goes unrecognized in the modern, secular world.
O'Connor is compassionate to her characters in that she gives them the opportunity of receiving grace, however devastating that might be to their fragile self-images, as well as their fragile mortal frames, for in O'Connor, grace often comes at the moment of grisly death.
In a letter written to Winifred McCarthy, Flannery O'Connor writes, "There is a moment in every great story in which the presence of grace can be felt as it waits to be accepted or rejected, even though the reader may not recognize this moment." [...] Critic Carter W. Martin notes, "Most of the short stories are constructed in such a way as to dramatize the sinfulness and the need for grace..." and goes on to delineate two different kinds of grace normally received by the characters: "prevenient grace-- which moves the will spontaneously, making it incline to God--and illuminating grace, by which God enlightens men to bring them nearer to eternal life." That is to say either a kind of spark that ignites a low smolder of realization, or full-blown revelation. Usually the character "recognizes his need for repentance and either accepts or ignores the opportunity.
In "The Incident: Part I and II," many of the characters have a moment of reaching grace -- hence the significance of Jacob's flashbacks. (Earlier I mentioned that I didn't like the flashbacks, but considering that Jacob was present for each character's moment of grace, I now appreciate their relevance to both the characters and the mythology of the show.) Kate promises to near steal again, but we all know that she chooses to rob a bank later in life (which leads to the death of her childhood friend). Sawyer's decision to write a letter to the man who killed his parents is thwarted by an inkless pen. Jacob gives him a new pen, allowing him the choice to continue writing the letter. A friend of the family tells young James Ford not to finish the letter, but we know that he chooses to finish it later. Locke is essentially killed by his father but is revived from Jacob's touch. This is the moment where Locke is given a second chance at life. He can go on being pathetic and miserable (a failed relationship, daddy issues, etc.) or he can choose a life of adventure. His infamous line -- "You cannot tell me what I can and cannot do" -- places the decisions of his life solely in his hands. Despite being in a wheelchair, he chooses to do a walk-about. When faced with killing his father, per Ben's instructions, Locke chooses to ask Sawyer to do it (which is arguably Sawyer's moment of choice as well). Sun and Jin, our resident couple of institutional love, get married and vow to honor and love one another. But we all know that Jin chooses to work and murder for Sun's father and that Sun chooses to have an extramarital affair. Their moment of grace comes through their separation in time. Three years after the time split, Sun and Jin refuse to let go of the idea of finding one another. (Love, my friends, love is what will save humanity.) With Jack and Hurley, they are both at a crossroads -- Jack with quitting his job and Hurley with being released from prison. They can continue moving forward, or they can change direction altogether. As Jacob points out to Hurley, he doesn't have to get on the Ajira flight. He could have chosen to walk away.
And most importantly, Ben has the choice to kill Jacob. Perhaps it is because Jacob knows how Ben will choose -- Ben does have quite the history of killing people (let's not forget about The Purge) -- that prompts him to tell Ben, "You? What about you?" He says it with such sadness, not because he knows that he is about to die but because Ben represents everything that is greedy and immoral about humanity. Ben could have walked away. But he didn't. He chose to kill Jacob, hence Esau's victory burial of Jacob in the fire.
The entire series of Lost has been about choices. Originally it was about the choices of Jack versus Locke, but when you consider all of the flashbacks throughout the series, it makes a lot of sense that these flashbacks serve to illustrate not simply the type of character each individual person is, but also how they come to make choices. What outside influencing factors help determine their path? What do they choose to ignore, what do they choose to embrace? And most importantly, how is their moment of grace significant to the Valenzetti Equation? Sawyer sacrificed himself by jumping out of the helicopter. Kate returned to the island to find Claire. Jack and Juliet, the rational characters, are willing to "reset" history for love. Charlie sacrificed himself for Desmond and the others. Michael died as a means of redeeming himself for leaving the island. A majority of these deeply flawed characters have already had their moment of grace, that moment where they undoubtedly answer the question -- Yes. Yes, humanity is worth saving.
Bones: I am extremely irritated with this show. The season four finale, "The End in the Beginning," offered viewers an immediate look at Brennan and Booth in bed together -- something the creators have sworn up and down would be real and not a hallucination or a dream -- only to discover that it's not actually Brennan and Booth. While the real Booth has been in a coma for the past four days, the audience learns in the last two minutes that Brennan has been writing a crime short story/book based on people she know. The following are my major irritations: (1) First of all, the actual story she writes -- complete with a lame Hodgins voiceover -- isn't a very good story. (2) Secondly, it took me an entire forty minutes to figure out where this bizarro world came from. These are characters I know, and yet somehow they're not... oh, it's a story. Told by someone. For some reason. That won't be revealed until the last two minutes of the show. Because the writers didn't introduce it as a story (but rather immediately leapt into bed with Booth and Brennan for cheap thrills), I spent a majority of the hour waiting for the end of the episode. I didn't care about these bizarro characters with their bizarre personalities. I wanted to get back to the normal Bones world I had grown to love. The only thing I liked about this world was that it showed how well John Francis Daley (Sweets) can sing. (3) And lastly -- and this is a major problem -- there was no chemistry between the lead actors during their sex romp. This could be because of two reasons. One, the sex came at the very beginning of the episode, and because there was no build-up, the scene couldn't climax (much like the characters, I'm sure). Without the build-up, there's no audience investment. Or two, randomly beginning the episode in bed -- with Booth in a hospital bed in the last episode -- lead to a lot of confusion. So instead of enjoying the moment for what it was, the audience scratched their heads and wondered what happened between last week and this week that allowed Booth to be healthy enough to engage in sexual relations. Outside of these two possibilities, the scene simply didn't work. It was awkward and the actors seemed to be pulling back. (The actors are friends in real life, so I bet it was like kissing a sibling on the set.) But most of all, imagining a story is the exact same as dreaming. Brennan and Booth still have not had sex, something the creators have been promising since mid-season. I'm angry. I feel cheated. And the fact that this show has been renewed for two more seasons really worries me.
The Office: Hands down, the finale "Company Picnic" was the best thing on television last Thursday. It was able to balance the multiple strengths of the show, including sight gags and verbal jokes, outrageous caricaturizations (which Blogspot informs me is not a word, but then again, neither is Blogspot) and quiet moments of heart-tugging goodness. Steve Carrell and John Krasinski really brought their A-game to this episode, and the writers pulled off a wonderful showcase of the often times overlooked or ignored supporting cast. Stanley had the winning line of the night: "I usually don't enjoy the theater, but this is delightful." The episode began with a wonderful prank on Michael -- wonderful because it's based in reality (what office employee doesn't dream of taking advantage of their boss and skipping out on a full day of work?) -- and it was nice to see Dwight get in on the prank. And yes, I enjoyed Dwight's awful pun while changing the clocks, "Like clockwork." And then the episode follows our favorite Scranton Branch into the Dundler-Mifflin company picnic, where hilarity ensues on the volleyball court and we discover, through one of the sweetest moments of the show, that Jim and Pam are pregnant. It's a scene that is right above the proposal (for its style of execution) and just below the kiss from "Casino Night" (only because nothing will ever touch the awesomeness of that moment). The reveal came through a window in the hospital (begin watching at the 20:14 mark), and we see the look of shock and awe on Jim and Pam's face, right before they kiss each other and Jim starts crying. Then he comes out to call Dwight with the sweetest line of the episode, "Dwight, send in the subs." Way to make my heart swell, Krasinski.
Below are some of the highlights: • I loved the introduction of Dwight's best friend, Rolf -- "I met him in a shoe store. I heard him asking for a shoe that could increase his speed and not leave any tracks." -- mostly because I will never tire of anyone calling Angela a whore. • Michael wrote down a list of why he and Holly are soul mates -- "Holly and I are soup snakes, and the reason is... in terms of the soup... that doesn't make any sense. We're soul mates." -- and was smart enough to know he should wait to tell her of his affections. Michael Scott is only as self-aware when he's around Holly. • I'm going to miss Idris Elba as Charles, Michael's interim manager while Michael created the Michael Scott Paper Company. In this episode, his competitive nature really heightened his character's contempt for the Scranton Branch, namely Jim. This is a very specific type of character that would work well within the Office universe. Best line: "It must be nice to get a rest from all your rest." • Michael and Holly's skit, "Slumdunder Mifflinaire," worked so well despite its obvious awkwardness (Michael announces the closing of a branch, when said branch is present without any knowledge of the layoffs) because of Steve Carrell's Indian accent and because they made torture into comedy. This skit, by the way, really showcased why the show will suffer the loss of Amy Ryan next season. Michael and Holly chanting "Dun-der, dun-der, dun-der" to the tune of the Jaws theme song was as sweet as anything Jim and Pam have ever done. • Pam played volleyball in junior high, high school, college, and went to a volleyball camp most summers -- and she's proud of it. • Best site gag: As Kevin is speaking into the camera -- "It's 6 to 6. It's a nail biter." -- he gets hit by the volleyball. Unexpected physical pain is always welcome. (And this was followed by Angela asking Kevin, "Now it's 7:6. Or is that too much accounting for you," to which Rolf says, "Here's an accounting question for you. What does one fiance plus one lover equal? Answer: one whore.") • Second best site gag: To delay the game while Jim takes MVP Pam to the hospital, Dwight kicks the volleyball into the woods with such anger and then yells, "I'll get it!" and saunters away. I laughed embarrassingly hard.
Grey's Anatomy: The finale "Now or Never" was certainly the talk of Facebook on Friday. (Sadly, Facebook statuses have replaced "watercooler talk.") I don't have much to say outside of George and Izzie's storylines -- other than someone needs to give Chandra Wilson (Bailey) an Emmy already, and then more Emmys for the previous seasons that she hasn't won -- so I'll stick to those major characters. (1) Izzie: When she emerged from her surgery with short term memory loss, I immediately thought back to a previous episode where a woman had to be told every 30 seconds that her husband died on his way to the hospital. At first I was peeved because I thought they were recycling material, but then I realized the familiarity of the storyline was supposed to evoke a response to tragedy. What if Izzie had to be told over and over again that the tumor was removed? It's not as heartbreaking when compared to the woman whose husband died, but the source of one's identity is very much rooted in memories. Eating jello (action) is not as defining as remembering whether or not you like jello (memory). We all knew that Izzie's memory would eventually come back, but it was wonderful to see it come back in such an honest way. Her husband Alex delivers one hell of a speech about his fears, which makes Izzie hold on to his words and thus focus on remembering. His speech, delivered so well by Justin Chambers, included thoughts on leaving her, on feeling helpless, on her not being the same person he married. It wasn't sweet; it wasn't romantic. It wasn't anything anyone would ever want to hear after going through brain surgery. But damn was it honest.
(2) George: I didn't realize George was the John Doe on the table until the Chief said he sent O'Malley home early to be with his mother before he departed for Iraq. Creator Shonda Rhimes has noted that the writers deliberately edged George out of major storylines so that when he was absent in the finale, nobody would take notice. Well Shonda, it worked. I was completely taken by surprise. (Rhimes has also noted in previous seasons that she pitches the season's finale before they even begin writing that season, so I believe her when she says it's merely coincidence that Katherine Heigl and T.R. Knight have been publicly scrutinized for their roles in the show and that they're the ones who end up flatlining at the episode's end.) There are two reasons why George's storyline broke my heart. The first is all due to Ellen Pompeo. Her delivery of "007? 007! 007! Oh my God, oh my God. It's George!" will forever be etched in my memory. Broke. My. Heart. (Best thing Pompeo's done on the show yet.) And second, in the first hour of the two-hour finale, George-as-John Doe is on the operating table, being poked and prodded by all of the major surgeons, including his ex-wife Callie, his mentor Owen Hunt, and his friend Meredith Grey. John Doe stepped in front of a bus to save a complete stranger from being hit, and someone wonders aloud if anyone thinks they could ever do that for someone else. Callie says, "We like to think we would, but... [we wouldn't]." That's our George. George is the type of person to step in front of a bus for someone else. The way that these scenes were set up -- thinking of John Doe as some random patient in the beginning, then realizing that the patient is our heroic George towards the end -- was extremely well plotted. For the most part, the finale was a typical episode... but the last few minutes, where Izzie and George both simultaneously flat line, left a lot of fans screaming at their television, "SERIOUSLY?!?"
30 Rock: My biggest issue with this show is that the jokes are often isolated within specific scenes -- and further, those scenes are isolated from other scenes -- so it was nice to see Liz's fifth grade kidney performance brought back to reveal she went to school with Sheryl Crow. Overall, the episode was just okay, but I didn't care for the forced catchphrase storyline (despite it being funny, it was so self-aware that the irony was quickly replaced by the idea that NBC is making 30 Rock catchphrase central -- even their website has "It's a deal breaker, ladies!" everywhere), or Tracy Jordan going back to high school to deliver a commencement speech. The episode did have one great moment, and that's the closing charity song ("One song. One man. One kidney."), filled with the voices of Mary J. Blige, Elvis Costello (alias of an international art thief), Clay Aiken, Cyndi Lauper, Adam Levine, and many others. It was more parodic than the straight-laced "The American Dream" song from Wag the Dog, and I do enjoy a good mocking of consumer capitalism.
• Dr. Spaceman was used remarkably well in this episode, from "Kidney transplantation is no laughing matter, so I apologize... (insert childish laughter)... kidney is just such a funny word" to yelling "Opposite! Opposite!" at the kidney transplant form. • Here's a complete list of the catchphrases Liz Lemon offers to various women throughout the episode: "This guy's making you talk like a crazy person. You have sexually transmitted crazy-mouth. That's a deal breaker." "Your fiance's gay. Look at him, look at you. Classic case of 'fruit blindness.'" "He thinks he deserves a va-jay-jay upgrade. He doesn't; he's not Tom Brady. Shut it down." "There's no such thing as bisexual. That's something they created in the 90s to sell hair products." "Only one snake in the bed. Deal breaker!" "Not on my watch, beyotch." "S to the D. Shut it down." "Talk it out before you walk it out." "Long distance is the wrong distance." • Say what you will about Tracy Morgan as an actor or a human being, his performance as Tracy Jordan makes even the worst storylines so much better. The "When have I ever cried" montage was hysterical. In case you've ever wanted to revisit some of Tracy's best lines, you can go here and read every line he's ever uttered. • Here are the lyrics to the charity song:
Sometimes life brings pain and strife, and all seems wrong. That's when you find a friend and write a song. So give the gift of giving, and give it far and give it wide. Take the leap pushed down deep inside. And just give a kidney to a father or a dad. Just give a kidney. We hear it doesn't really hurt that bad, and we know you want to give it to a super human being (?). So get it done. We just need one. For Milton Green. This country has six hundred million, and we really only need half, which still leaves three hundred million kidneys. Do the math. Milton Green (x a lot). He needs a kidney. Milton Green. Don't ask why, he could die if you don't call today. Listen, when someone starts talking in the middle of a song, you know it's serious. So give Milton a kidney. We all believe in this cause so much that we're doing it for free. Except for Sheryl. And only three of us are drunk.
The song continues, but it moves so quickly between the celebrities... but the highlight was Cyndi Lauper exclaiming, "I'm one of the drunk ones!"
I am going to preface my review by saying that I used to mock my father -- and still do, really -- every time he shouts "I've been there!" during a location shot in movies. Italy, France, Turkey, England... he's been to many a far off lands, so imagine how often I've had to endure the phrase, "I've been there!" But then something happened. He took me to England. He took me to France. And he took me to Italy. So now whenever I see the Gherkin or Piazza San Marco, I exclaim with childish glee, "I've been there!" and he becomes the one mocking me. I went to see Angels and Demons with him yesterday (as well as my equally well-traveled mother), and having walked around Rome with the explicit intent of following the path laid out in Dan Brown's novel, I sat in my seat, squirming and beaming with extreme sensory recognition. Raphael's Chigi Chapel. Bernini's St. Teresa in Ecstasy in Santa Maria della Vittoria. Raphael's tomb and the occulus in the Pantheon. The Baldacchino (which rests above St. Peter's tomb) in St. Peter's Cathedral. Between receiving my undergraduate degree in art history and walking the exact path of protagonist Robert Langdon, I was geeking out throughout the entire movie, suppressing the urge to scream "I've been there!" over and over and over again.
With that said, I have no idea if this is a good movie. I walked away feeling pleased, but that's because I've been there and there and there. Some quick notes: First, Ayelet Zurer, who plays the female lead Vittoria, is infinitely better cast than Audrey Tautou in The da Vinci Code. Second, this film is heavy on exposition -- but, unlike Duplicity, the scenes move along quickly and the narrative unfolds at an entertaining pace -- and, although I had no personal dissatisfaction with it, I can understand how anyone unfamiliar with either Rome or art history might get lost along the way. Third, the film starts with a short introduction to CERN and their large hadron collider, which is one of my favorite things ever. The science behind the scene is reductive and oversimplified, but I suppose that's necessary to move the plot along. Still, this allows me a good opportunity to share some links:
And lastly, the film explains the Illuminati's mission in one scene, and if you happen to zone out during that scene or leave to use the restroom, you will miss the secret organization's motive. Also, Langdon does not explain -- at all, if I'm remembering correctly -- why the eye, obelisk, or pyramid are associated with the Illuminati. He just says, "An eye within a pyramid! The sign of the Illuminati!" and you're supposed to accept it. On the plus side, the film revisits the science vs. faith dichotomy enough times that even if you don't understand who exactly the Illuminati were, you at least know why they existed.
The film, of course, made damn sure that it offended neither religious people nor atheists, which actually disappointed me. (Not that the film wasn't insulting, but because there was no real debate between any of the characters.) The head Swiss guard and the camerlengo are quick to point out Langdon's atheism, but he has a private audience with church officials at the end that makes everything copasetic. The political correctness just seemed a little forced. Many members of the papal court -- particularly the head cardinal -- are suggested to have a duplicitous nature (he's religious but with immoral motivations!), but there are many positive conversations about the necessity of faith and religion. As an agnostic, I always appreciated Dan Brown's handling of this debate, and I was sad that my favorite part of the book was not included in the film.(*) In the book, the camerlengo (played in the film by Ewan McGregor) grabs a news reporter's microphone and gives a message to those watching coverage of the papal conclave. Included in that message, he says to the non-believers, "You look at the stars and you say, 'How can there be a God?' I look at the stars and I say, 'How can there not be a God?'"(**) I've always referred back to this scene when people ask me to explain why I'm agnostic (which they incorrectly perceive as "fence-sitting").
(*) Although this scene was not in the film, there are other scenes that state quite plainly that science and religion are not, or should not, be contradictory. (**) I do not have a copy of the book on me at the moment, and I have not read the book in a few years. This is a scene that I pulled from memory, so there is a good chance the wording is entirely incorrect.
I'm fairly certain I enjoyed the film, though I know others may not be as forgiving as I am. Whenever my brain contemplated a plot hole (the set-up of the goose chase is pretty implausible, considering the limitations of the villain), I just remembered Bernini's sculptures. When the movie was over, I ran into a friend who said she was less than impressed, but then, she's never been to Rome.
Upfront Week doesn't technically begin until today (Fox on Monday, ABC and NBC on Tuesday, CBS on Wednesday, and CW on Thursday), but already Ausiello has a cheat sheet listing those shows that have been renewed. Here are some highlights, and by that I mean shows that interest me the most (and because reality TV is the bane of my existence, you will not find any of those listed here):
ABC Better Off Ted: RENEWED. Whoo hoo! Brothers & Sisters: Renewed. Castle: RENEWED. Cupid: Canceled. Yeah... this remake was alarmingly bad. Desperate Housewives: Renewed. Forever. Eli Stone: Canceled, and the last of this past season should finish airing this summer. Grey's Anatomy: Renewed. Lost: Already Renewed. Pushing Daisies: Canceled, and the last of this past season should finish airing this summer. Scrubs: Renewed, with Sarah Chalke and Zach Braff returning for six episodes. The Unusuals: Canceled. Too bad; the actors had great chemistry together.
CBS The Big Bang Theory: Renewed for two seasons. How I Met Your Mother: Not official, but it'll most likely be renewed. The Mentalist: Ditto. It's the number one show on television.
FOX 24: Renewed. American Idol: Renewed. Ugh, go away. Bones: Renewed for two seasons. Dollhouse: Renewed for thirteen episodes. Family Guy: Renewed. Fringe: Renewed. House: Not official, but it'll most likely be renewed. The Simpsons: Renewed. Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles: Canceled.
NBC 30 Rock: Renewed. Chuck: Renewed for thirteen episodes, but with a tighter budget. They'll probably be getting rid of a character, or at least decrease the number of episodes the supporting cast is in. Heroes: Renewed. Ugh, go away.. The Office: Renewed. Parks and Recreation: Renewed.
Looking back over this list, I can't help but think... man, I watch a lot of television.
Isaac Spaceman over at Throwing Things wrote the following in a recent post, which I found to be quite insightful. Perhaps Lindelof and Cuse actually have this thing well plotted out...
I thought it was an excellent (but not pantheon-level) Lost, but mostly I was impressed with how intricately-written it was, weaving together not just the basic mythology, the Romeo and Juliet B-story, the turtles-all-the-way-up (tm Carmichael Harold) escalating conflicts (survivors vs. survival; survivors vs. Others; Others vs. Dharma; Ben vs. Widmore; Jacob vs. Esau), but also a number of allusions to prior season finales. To be clear, I'm not saying these are coincidences or minor similarities, in the nature of a high-school "compare and contrast" paper. I think these were explicit callbacks to the prior finales and restagings of pivotal scenes or shots. To wit:
• In the Season 1 finale, "Exodus," Jack takes a volatile explosive (old dynamite) from an anachronistic source (an inland-beached galleon) and carries it in a backpack to the Swan hatch, to blow it up. In "The Incident," Jack takes a volatile explosive (a plutonium core rigged to blow on impact) from an anachronistic source (an underground Egyptian temple) and carries it in a backpack to the Swan hatch, to blow it up. "Exodus" ends with the camera going down the hatch. "The Incident" ends with the camera going down the hatch (though it is shot in the accelerating style of the last shot in the pre-credits opening of the
• Season 2 opener, "Man of Science, Man of Faith," when the camera went the other direction). The Season 2 finale was "Live Together, Die Alone." In "The Incident," Juliet answers Sawyer's "what do we do, Blondie?" question with "Live together, die alone." The climax of "Live Together, Die Alone" is the implosion of the Swan, followed by Desmond, laying underneath the station, turning the failsafe key, triggering a fade to white. In "The Incident," the Swan implodes, followed by Juliet, laying underneath the station rubble, beating the bomb with a rock, triggering a fade to white.
• In the Season 3 finale, "Through the Looking Glass," Ben asks to speak with Jack alone before Jack does something that will cause everyone on the island to die. "The least you can give me is five minutes," he says. "Five minutes," Jack responds, and Ben invites Jack to "have a seat on the rock." In "The Incident," Sawyer asks to speak with Jack alone before Jack does something that will cause everyone on the island to die. "I need five minutes, that's all ... you owe me that much, Jack," says Sawyer. "Five minutes," replies Jack, and Sawyer invites Jack to "take a load off" on the rock. Also, in "Through the Looking Glass," Hurley rides to the rescue in a Dharma microbus. In "The Incident," Hurley rides to the rescue in a Dharma microbus.
• The big reveal in Season 4's finale, "No Place Like Home," is that the object in the box is Locke's corpse. The big reveal in "The Incident" is that the object in the box is Locke's corpse.
Also, in Lost-related news, I recently discovered Jorge Garcia's blog, and he seems like a really awesome guy. Between the hilarious photo captions ("I think that guy flipped me off.") and all of the misadventures he seems to have (cake batter in a spray can, really?), it's a lot of fun to read. In another life, I'm sure he and I would be BFF -- all because of a simple photo frame.
I highly recommend reading the article "The Truth Alone Will Not Set You Free" by Mark Hedges, regarding the destruction and replacement of American culture with mass, corporate culture ("junk culture") and the repercussions of this shift. Below are some highlights.
The emergence of corporate and government public relations, which drew on the studies of mass psychology by Sigmund Freud and others after World War I, found its bible in Walter Lippmann’s book “Public Opinion,” a manual for the power elite’s shaping of popular sentiments. Lippmann argued that the key to leadership in the modern age would depend on the ability to manipulate “symbols which assemble emotions after they have been detached from their ideas.” The public mind could be mastered, he wrote, through an “intensification of feeling and a degradation of significance.”
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