Cartered Off

I didn't have much interest in seeing John Carter even leading up to its release in theaters earlier this year. Then the reviews came, which were rather savage, and the door closed entirely.

Except someone stuck their foot in. I heard from several people who all saw it, and their opinions were fairly uniform: "it's not that bad." Nobody wanted to put it in the running for best film of the year, but everyone seemed to agree that it had been unfairly trashed by the critics, and that it was good for a few decent thrills.

Having now watched John Carter for myself, it seems there must have been two different films: the one the critics saw, and the ones my friends saw. I side with the critics. Was this the worst mindless blockbuster ever made? No. But it was every bit the bomb it was proclaimed to be.

Early in the run of South Park, there was an episode where an alien race named the Marklars visited the Earth. They were a fun parody of every crappy sci-fi movie that's pointlessly overloaded with stupid jargon. Instead of "it's time for dinner, so let's all sit at the table together and eat turkey," they'd say "it is the Hour of Marklar, so we must gather at the Marklar to partake of roast Marklar."

John Carter is exactly like that. Stuffed with hilariously cheesy terms like Barsoom, Thern, Jaddak, Thark, Helium, and Zodanga, this movie could have been a laugh out loud comedy if it didn't take itself so damn seriously. And I think the proof of this is that the moments that play best in the movie are all the moments with a comedic edge to them -- John Carter trying to learn to walk in the lighter gravity of Mars; the failed attempts of the aliens to understand him before the communication barrier is surmounted; the super-fast dog-like creature he befriends.

But these are just a handful of accents in a plot revolving around a lame villain with non-specifically evil goals, manipulated by lamer villains pulling his strings. And no one can get through a sentence without spewing one or two nonsense words, just to remind you this is supposed to be Serious Science Fiction.

Most of the performances are boring and flat; the few that aren't are overly campy instead. Even the visuals are scattershot. The landscapes of Mars are rendered with incredible realism and the aliens are mostly convincing, but the cities and technology all seem fake -- overly crisp and lacking appropriate weight.

So while I would agree that the movie is not a total loss, I certainly don't see what made people think the critics were being unfairly harsh. I grade it a D.

A Dos of Green Day

Green Day's musical trilogy (which began just a few weeks ago) continued last Tuesday with the release of ¡Dos! Listening to it the first time, I thought it was a distinctly weaker batch of songs than on ¡Uno! But I've continued to give the album a chance as it comes up in the shuffle, and I find the songs are growing on me.

The 38 total songs of the trilogy were recorded over the same period of time, and then arranged into these three albums for release. As a result, there are some threads that connect the first album to the second. Certain lyrical ideas repeat (such as "stop when the red lights flash," a phrase from the first album's lead single "Oh Love," becoming a song title here). The general approach here is the same -- to abandon the concept album approach of American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown, and instead try a broader variety of song styles.

I noted that ¡Uno! contained many songs that sound like they could have been recorded during different periods of Green Day's career. They try to do the same thing with ¡Dos!, but with more mixed results. Many of the songs don't just sound like "earlier Green Day," they sound like two specific earlier Green Day songs mashed together. "Lazy Bones" is the chord progression of American Idiot's "Give Me Novocaine" with a chorus eerily reminiscent of "Favorite Son." The aforementioned "Stop When the Red Lights Flash" lifts liberally from the medley songs off American Idiot and 21st Century Breakdown.

While this self-recycling doesn't thrill me, other songs on the album represent more interesting experiments in trying to sound like other bands. These tracks are hit and miss, but they're definitely different. "Nightlife" is an odd slow jam with a female rapper taking all the verses. "Amy" is a solo guitar ballad (reportedly about the death of Amy Winehouse). And the hilariously overt "Fuck Time" is a fun foray into surf rock.

I would have called the album a C after listening to it the first time, but as I said, it's been worming its way into my brain. It's climbed up to a B-, as I focus more on the tracks I really do like (and ignore the rest). Perhaps I'll grow to like it even more, but I feel pretty confident in pronouncing this a weaker album than ¡Uno! Still, at the very least, there are songs worth cherry picking here.

TNG Flashback: Haven

Although it was aired as the 10th episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation, "Haven" was actually filmed fourth, and then put on hold for reasons I've not been able to locate online. I might say it's because the episode isn't all that good, except that it is better than some of the other earliest episodes (like "Code of Honor" and "The Last Outpost").

The Enterprise is visiting Haven, a planet with legendary healing properties, when Counselor Troi is shocked to receive word that the prearranged marriage set up for her in childhood is imminent. A young human doctor named Wyatt arrives to be wed to her, but is surprised to find Deanna is not the woman he has had dreams of since youth. Instead, that woman is revealed to be aboard an approaching Tarellian plague ship, whose deadly crew is looking to beam down to Haven in the hopes of curing their condition.

If all that sounds a bit scattered, it is. There are too many ideas at play in this episode, none of them fully explored. But the real problem here, as I see it, is that the episode isn't about the main characters; it's about the guest stars. Yes, it's Deanna who may be whisked away from the ship by her arranged marriage, but the big resolution of the episode is all about Wyatt taking charge and beaming over to be with his mysterious plague woman. The climax is the fulfillment of his destiny, and the union of two fated lovers (neither of whom is a main character). Deanna is extricated from her dilemma through no action of her own; Wyatt simply beams away, choosing his dream woman over Troi, and solving all the problems for everyone in the process. It's almost a stand-alone sci-fi short story that just happens to use Star Trek characters as window dressing.

Except that it's not even quite sci-fi so much as fantasy. Somehow, Wyatt has dreamed all his life of this beautiful blonde woman he's meant to be with, who he believes is Deanna Troi. Then it turns out this plague victim, Ariana, has been dreaming of him too. There is absolutely no explanation given for this. Wyatt's a human, and while Ariana is an alien, no telepathic powers are ascribed to her species that would explain any of this. The closest we get to an explanation is a 30-second conversation between Wyatt and Troi's mother Lwaxana, where she feeds us some mumbo jumbo about all life being bound together. Well, that settles it.

If it were just the implausible story and the often hokey dialogue, there would be absolutely nothing to recommend this episode. But there are many saving graces here in the comedic elements of the hour. Patrick Stewart gives an amusing performance being put out and put upon by Lwaxana Troi. Brent Spiner shines as a deeply intrigued Data, watching the "petty bickering" of the wedding party. And Majel Barrett is pretty fun as Troi's mother, even if her accent is a little odd in places. (There's even a reasonable resemblance between her and Marina Sirtis. You can believe they're related.)

There's also interesting material in Riker's reaction to Troi's prearranged wedding. He's supposed to be an enlightened 24th-century man (indeed, the episode has still more early series speechifying about how backwards the people of the 20th century are), but he's not at all able to rise above his emotions here. Even though he has basically acknowledged he doesn't want to rekindle his relationship with Troi, he does not want to see her marry another man. Probably a true reaction, but jealousy is not the sort of behavior you often see from the main characters on Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek. (Maybe Riker is just in a mood because people keep calling him "Bill" this episode instead of "Will." They never do that again for the rest of the series.)

Other observations:

• Entertainment is peculiar in the 24th century. At the top of the episode, Riker is relaxing in his quarters to a hologram of two toga-clad women playing harps. And the dopey smile on his face implies this may be his idea of porn.

• Filmed before "The Last Outpost" (but aired after), this is actor Armin Shimerman's first appearance on Star Trek, as the face of the Betazoid gift box. But I knew about that particular bit of Trek trivia before I rewwatched this episode. The guest star I was not at all prepared to see was a very young Robert Knepper as love interest Wyatt. 25 years later, I know him best as the snake-like "T-Bag" on the TV series Prison Break, a masterfully villainous portrayal of a character you love to hate. His performance here isn't exactly amazing, but it does show he has versatility.

• There's a fun little idea in this episode of a "chameleon rose," a flower with petals that change color with the mood of the owner. And in the remaster touch-ups, it looks a lot more natural than I remembered it.

• Watching this episode, I was really struck by the powerfully 80s hair styles throughout. Wyatt has big, puffy, Blue Lagoon hair. His dream woman, Ariana, has Flashdance flyaway teased half a foot high. Beverly Crusher and Tasha Yar sport some unusual 'dos as well at different points in the episode. I noticed all this while watching, and then read afterward that this episode was actually nominated for an Emmy Award for Outstanding Achievement in Hairstyling for a Series. So here's a time capsule of our fashion tastes in 1987.

• Worf isn't in this episode, for reasons not explained in the story. I feel like it may have been a missed opportunity, too. Much is made of the culture clash between human and Betazoid traditions. I feel like there could have also been fun in commenting on the ways in which one fictitious alien culture clashes with another, especially with Betazoids and Klingons being on such clearly opposite ends of the spectrum.

There is some fun to be had here in this episode, but the storytelling itself is pretty flat. Overall, I'd call it a C-.

Destined for "Pretty Good"-ness

I rather liked the original Final Destination movie -- a bit silly, but a lot of fun. I think I liked the second one even better, which not only expanded on the Rube Goldberg-like death sequences of the original, but connected to the first film's plot in a surprisingly clever way. But then came the third movie, which I actually saw for free at a sneak preview, and which I came out of feeling I'd overpaid. It was such an over-the-top, stupid mess that I never even bothered to watch the fourth one.

But last year, the movie studios were using CPR on their franchise once again, and served up Final Destination 5. There seemed to be a fair amount of feedback conceding that, while still maybe not great, it was certainly a return to form for the series. Reviews weren't enthusiastic enough that I pushed to watch it in theaters, but I did recently decide to catch it on HBO.

I actually wish I had seen it in theaters.

Now, mind you, I'm not holding the movie up as any kind of cinematic masterpiece. It's nowhere near approaching my Top 100 list or anything. But it was pretty fun. And moreover, I could tell from watching it that I'd really missed out on something by not seeing it in the theater in 3D. I say this as someone who generally never wants to see a movie in 3D, but this one was actually filmed for it, and you can tell watching it that it was filmed well for it. Ghoulish gore flies at the screen constantly throughout the film, and even the less gimmicky shots are clearly constructed with an eye toward depth and composition beyond what you'd ever see for a typical cheap horror movie.

As I said, the movie isn't perfect. Frankly, the characters are just awful. The unsubtle exposition used to introduce them all in the opening five minutes is painful, and then a fresh pain comes in learning that that's really about all you're going to learn about them. They don't have much in the way of distinct behavior to separate one from another. And the actors, none of whom you're likely to know unless you've seen Fired Up or the American version of The Office, aren't really skilled enough (aside from maybe the two from the places I just mentioned) to imbue their characters with more than the sliver provided on the page. (Well, okay, Tony Todd rocks. But his part in the film is small and narrowly defined.)

Of course, horror films aren't often about the characters, and the Final Destination movies arguably even less so than usual. They're meat for the slaughter, and man, the slaughter in this movie is fantastic. The writing may have been lacking in the characters, but it soars in the plot. Each death sequence is wonderfully staged, with lots of great suspenseful buildup, just the right amount of schlocky excess, and tons of very clever red herrings. Some scenes are very out of the ordinary (a gymnastics meet that takes on an unthinkable degree of danger), but others are situations that many people in the audience may have actually been in (an acupuncture session, a laser eye surgery treatment), thus lending an extra level of discomfort.

The movie also has a very clever ending. I did end up figuring it out, but only moments before it was revealed, and those few seconds did nothing to detract from my enjoyment of the way the story was brought together.

So the bottom line is, if you like horror movies (and like them extra gory), you'll want to check out Final Destination 5. It's not a masterpiece, but it may have carved out a niche as the best 3D horror film yet made. I grade it a B-.

Lost Re-view: What Kate Did

It's hard for me to put myself back in this mindset, but there was a time when one of the most popular unanswered questions about Lost was "what crime did Kate commit?" This second season episode, right down to its title, was crafted to answer that. But talking about this episode is going to take even more space that usual, because in answering that question, Lost covered some interesting character backstory and opened up a number of questions that were never completely explained by the end of the series.

The episode was written by Steven Maeda & Craig Wright, two staff writers who both left the series after the second season. It was directed by Paul Edwards, who after working on the show here for the first time would go on to become the series' most prolific director who wasn't "in-house" working as an executive producer.

It turns out that complicated father issues, already shown to be a key part of Jack, Locke, Sun, and Jin's backgrounds, are key to understanding Kate as well. Her past is both simple and complicated, expected and surprising. Her crime, it turns out, is murder. At age 24, she tampered with the gas main at her mother's house, setting it to explode with Wayne -- her abusive, alcoholic stepfather -- inside. She also took out an insurance policy in her mother's name ahead of time, hoping to set her up for life. The problem was, she didn't appreciate the tangled mess of feelings her mother had for Wayne. Despite the abuse, she loved the man, and she ratted Kate out to the authorities immediately, putting her on the run from marshal Edward Mars.

All that is the expected part. The marshal even taunts Kate with that when he briefly has her in his custody. But there's another dimension to it. It turns out that the man Kate thought was her dad, the Army officer her mother divorced when she was a child, was actually away overseas when she was conceived. Her actual biological father was her "stepfather" Wayne, a fact which (given his behavior early in this episode) it seems he's not even aware of himself.

This is an important piece of Kate's character, the self-hatred she feels that her blood is not that of an army hero, but an abusive drunk. And this self-hatred is sadly driven home even more when Kate goes to see the father who first raised her in a flashback. She asks why he never told her the truth, and he answers "I knew you'd kill him." Worse, when she asks why he didn't, he tells her "I don't have murder in my heart." Kate does, and that's the problem.

The on-Island story this episode plays up the love triangle between Jack, Kate, and Sawyer. Jack is tending to a delirious Sawyer, who is still recovering from his gunshot wound, and hears him murmur that he loves Kate. Jack then doesn't want to leave Kate alone with Sawyer to attend Shannon's funeral, but Kate insists he go. It would all be uninteresting to anyone but the "shippers," if not for some new circumstances and the added context of the flashbacks:

Sawyer's unexpected return to the group has Kate thinking about her past. And because her mind is on the past, just before she comes to watch over Sawyer, she sees a black horse on the Island. Not just any horse, but one key to her first escape from the marshal. He wasn't paying enough attention to the road on a rainy evening, swerved to avoid the horse, and hit a tree. Kate stared for a moment at the horse before driving off.

Just filling the silence with her voice (but knowing Sawyer can't really hear her), she tells Sawyer of having seen the horse. He begins to whisper something that draws her in close... and then he suddenly sits bolt upright, grabs her by the throat, and begins to choke her as he screams "why did you kill me?!" Kate believes she's hearing the voice of her dead father Wayne, somehow possessing Sawyer, and flees the scene.

When Jack finally catches up with her to demand why she left Sawyer all alone (as well as the button; oh, we'll get to the button), she breaks down, upset that she's not as good as Jack. She kisses him, but then thinks twice of it and flees again. It all makes sense when she finally returns to the Hatch and confides once more in the unconscious Sawyer (whom she addresses as Wayne): she hates that Wayne is a part of her, and that she will never be any good or have anything good. Every time she looks at Sawyer, she sees Wayne. From the sound of it, Kate wants to be with Jack, but doesn't think she deserves it.

Upon this revelation, Sawyer regains consciousness -- not possessed -- and the two share a lighter moment in which he sees the strange surroundings of the Hatch and is sure they've been rescued. It's followed by a serious moment outside in which Sawyer sees Kate's horse, and she knows she's not in fact crazy.

So, let the unanswered questions begin!

First, was Sawyer actually possessed by Wayne when he choked Kate and lamented her killing him? No subsequently explained property of the Island (that I can think of) would explain any literal interpretation of that scene, so I choose to believe that Sawyer was just having a weird "waking dream" moment in his recovery that Kate misinterpreted in her fixation. Of course, that transfers the question to: just who did delirious Sawyer think he was speaking to? But that feels like an easier one to answer to me. He could have been having a fever dream about the con man he's chasing, the Others who shot him, maybe even Ana Lucia.

Second, what was the nature of the horse Kate saw? Here, I posit two theories. First, the Island shows some measure of sentience throughout the show in drawing people and things there that are "needed." This is the force that Ben refers to in a later episode as a "magic box," and is what magically transported Anthony Cooper (Locke's father) to the Island in season 3. That force could have been responding to some need of Kate's here, bringing the horse to her to sharpen her memories, help her see that she's a different person from the one who killed her father, and hone her for Jacob's purposes (not to be revealed for some time). That's if you believe the horse is still alive out there in the real world.

Option two in my mind is that the horse is in fact dead... which puts it within the purview of the Man in Black. He can transform into any dead person, even someone who didn't die on the Island, and it's possible that power isn't actually limited to people. He could be appearing here as Kate's horse, trying to remind her of her inherent darkness and tempt her down the path that would allow him to kill her. But Kate passes the test, confessing that her motive for killing her father was not out of noble intention for her mother, but out of hatred for what she recognized in herself. Perhaps if Kate had stayed in denial, the Man in Black could have killed her here; by embracing the truth and purging that evil, she stayed beyond his reach.

Still with me through all that heady stuff? Good, because we have a ways to go. "What Kate Did" actually contains a considerable amount of content that has nothing to do with Kate.

There's an arc for Sayid, who tries to eulogize Shannon at her funeral, but can only lament how unlikely it was they ever would have met or even spoken to each other but for these circumstances. He simply acknowledges that he loved her before walking away. He's still deep in despair when Kate later asks him if he believes in ghosts. He answers that he saw Walt in the jungle before Shannon was shot, asking if that makes him crazy. Maybe, maybe not... though if that's what came to his mind when asked about ghosts, it seems he believes Walt is dead too. (Incorrectly, but that's where he's at right now.)

There are two great scenes with Jin. The first is at the top of the episode when he emerges shirtless from his tent with Sun clinging on him -- and gets a sly thumbs up from Hurley. The second is when Locke uses bolt cutters in the Swan station to finally remove the handcuff from his wrist. He and Michael share a laugh over it, showing how far their relationship has come since Michael put the cuff on him.

Jack also has a few lighter moments. One involves Hurley trying to psychoanalyze him with some things he heard bandied around in his time at the psych ward, while the other has Jack bringing tequila to just sit with a self-berating Ana Lucia.

The writers continue a theme that was big in season 2 -- that the Oceanic survivors all had some connections in their pasts. In the flashback that shows Kate going to speak with her army father, there's a brief glimpse of Sayid on a TV in the background. (The relationship between Sayid and Kate's dad would be explained later in the season.)

The mysteries of the Swan station itself deepen in this episode. When Kate flees Wayne/Sawyer, she leaves the button unmanned, and Locke returns with just 23 seconds (Numbers!) to type in the code -- which he does with only 1 second on the clock. Later, Michael points out the blast doors on the computer room that no one has noticed before, their purpose unknown (for now).

But the big Swan-related revelation comes after Locke shows Eko and Michael the orientation film. Eko reveals that he found the missing chunk of the film in the abandoned Arrow station on the other side of the Island. (Actually, he first tells a Biblical story of Josiah and the Book of Law, but I confess my knowledge of the Bible is insufficient for me to speculate intelligently on the literary metaphor being made here.) Locke remarks at the amazing odds that the removed footage would be found and brought back, but Eko cautions not to mistake coincidence for fate -- a key philosophical thread of Lost.

When the footage is spliced back in, "Dr. Marvin Candle" warns that the computer for entering the numbers should not be used to communicate with the outside world, at the risk of compromising the project and causing another "incident." And at that very moment, Michael is in the computer room checking out the equipment and sees a prompt appear on the screen: "Hello?" He strikes up a chat, and discovers that Walt is on the other end of the conversation.

All this material in the Swan station leaves us with at least three unanswered questions -- though admittedly some of them aren't likely to keep a Lost fan up at night.

Firstly, why the warning not to use the computer for communication? Though there is some tension later in the season about whether the button pushing is for a real purpose or just part of a social experiment, we ultimately learn that indeed, the button pushing is keeping an electromagnetic calamity at bay. Is the concern that using the computer for any other purpose than button pushing is simply too risky? That you wouldn't want to, say, accidentally cause the early 80s version of the Blue Screen of Death at just the wrong moment that renders the computer unable to enter the numbers in time?

Secondly, why was this warning excised from the orientation film? We learn later in the season that the man responsible for this was Radzinsky, the former "Hostile" working for Ben, who painted the blast door map and ultimately went crazy. But we never really get the why of it. Was he hoping to cause another incident by removing the warning against it? He was there for the first incident, so that seems unlikely. Unless that's part of the crazy, anyway. (And if it was, then why not simply stop pushing the button if he wanted to cause a disaster?) Sorry, but I've got no theories here.

But those two extremely insignificant questions are small potatoes next to this: how did Walt get on the other end of that computer chat? And to disprove what seems to me to be the best theory here, Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse are on record in an interview stating that this was not a ruse -- it really was Walt. So I guess the next most plausible answer is that the Others actually allowed Walt to use a computer connected somehow to the Swan, as part of a plan to bait some of the survivors into coming after Walt.

Admittedly, all of these questions are a distraction from the main thrust of the episode's drama, Kate's dark backstory. But to be honest, while this backstory is more dramatic and interesting (by far) than the Kate flashbacks relayed in her last two episodes, it's not as compelling as most of the other stories told so far this season. So all told (and I'm sorry I felt there was so much to be told), I'd rate this episode a B. Not bad, but not among Lost's best.

My Two Horse Cents

You can usually expect good things from a Steven Spielberg movie. And his 2011 live action effort, War Horse, was nominated for a Best Picture Oscar, which certainly made it seem like this would be "one of the good ones."

Unfortunately, I found it Spielberg's worst in a long, long time.

War Horse is based on a novel that was, unlikely though it might seem from the content, adapted into a very successful stage play. Set during World War I, it follows the story of a horse, the young man who trains it, and the horse's subsequent conscription into the war. Spielberg was reportedly deeply moved by the play, and pushed to make this film adaptation.

The movie has many problems in my view, but the biggest is that it's too much like an anthology. The horse is the central character the movie tracks, and he passes through a half dozen "owners" in the course of the two-hour tale. And it's not that the story doesn't do everything it can to make that horse a character of its own -- it's just that that's not enough.

There are plenty of human characters that come and go in the horse's life, as the movie unfolds over years, but none of these people hang around long enough to make a lasting impact. Just when you might get caught up in one's story, the horse is moving on to new adventures. And so the overall tone of the film remains ponderously boring, for want of any real point of emotional access. Perhaps a real horse lover might feel differently... but then, a horse lover might struggle to watch the film for the hardships this horse (and others like him) endure in the film.

There are a few good actors in the film, including Emily Watson, David Thewlis, Tom Hiddleston, and Benedict Cumberbatch, but the structure of the film is such that none of them gets more than a few minutes of screen time to make any kind of impression. They're there and gone before you can care.

I was squirming from impatience long before the final act. Ultimately the only good thing I can point to about the film is the truly impressive job done by the horse trainers who worked on it. Even allowing for the luxury of multiple takes (which surely must have been required for many scenes), the precise things the trainers got real horses to do are quite impressive.

Still, that's hardly enough to hang an entire movie on. I'd certainly never want to watch any part of it again. In fact, I think I'd have to rate it a D-, which probably makes it the "worst Spielberg movie" I've ever seen. An unfortunate disappointment.

Glease

Tonight, Glee took on the musical Grease with mixed-to-good results.

Rachel's storyline, involving her continued rivalry with Cassandra, was a bit mixed in Cassandra's crazed machinations; it's hard to believe that that someone so easily rattled by a young student would still be teaching, as she'd surely have had a career ending meltdown before this. (She had one in her past career, after all.) But the story was good in that it was about toughening up Rachel some more, forcing her to face how condescending she comes off at times, and moving her closer toward the end of defining herself in terms of the man she's with.

The Marley storyline was mixed in the way Kitty's villainy was as extreme as Cassandra, Sue Sylvester, and anything Quinn ever did, all rolled into one. Yes, I suppose there really are teenagers in the world who would try to drive a rival to bulimia as a way of getting revenge, but what misfortune is going to have to befall Kitty down the road to redeem the character and pull her back from the brink?

The small storyline for Wade/Unique was mixed and good for the same reason. After several seasons of seeing Burt Hummel, "Best Dad on Television," in his interactions with Kurt, here we got another texture of parents who were trying to be supportive, but lacking the courage of their own child. It's too bad these characters were weaker in their convictions, but it's also true and interesting. Whether to give in to fear when you have a legitimate reason to be fearful is a moral conundrum that could have easily filled more screen time. I hope the show will explore it more.

The musical numbers themselves were also mixed-to-good. Some were staged exactly as they were in the film version of Grease, and that made them rather boring and uninspired in my book. "Greased Lightnin'" at least had some energy, but as Blaine was supposed to be wallowing in depression, "Beauty School Dropout" was pretty boring. But by contrast, the final two songs of the show, "There Are Worse Things I Could Do" and "You're the One That I Want," were quite interesting. These songs blended multiple singers, multiple locations, dream sequences, multiple storylines for each of the characters -- and solid vocal performances too. And the episode's plot didn't feel too distorted just to get the songs to fit, as is often the case when Glee does a theme week.

Overall, I'd call this episode a B+, right about the respectable bar Glee's been reaching recently. I'll leave with this one parting thought. Grease is really a pretty poor musical for a high school to perform, when you think about it. Besides the fact that more puritanical minds would object to the depiction of teen sex (I have no qualms there), I think it sends a really bizarre message in its grand finale, the transformation of Sandy into leather-clad vixen. It seems to me the musical is saying: change everything about who you are and what you dream to become the fantasy of the man you think you want. That feels to me like a message that should be left behind in the decade this musical uses as its setting.

I don't think Danny and Sandy lived happily ever after.

TNG Flashback: Hide and Q

Nine episodes into the run of Star Trek: The Next Generation, the series did its first sequel (of sorts) to one of its own episodes, the episode "Hide and Q." The powerful alien from the pilot episode ("Encounter at Farpoint") returns to stir up some mischief, but it's quickly revealed to be a pretext for tempting Riker. The commander has been given the powers of the Q, and is asked to join their "Q Continuum" so they may incorporate the human compulsion for self betterment. Will Riker accept these god-like powers and leave the crew behind?

I remember being very entertained the first time around by the various Q episodes throughout the run of The Next Generation. And I've also been impressed by the acting of John de Lancie in the many other guest starring roles he's performed in rafts of other shows I've watched over the years. So I was that much more surprised to find this episode not nearly as good as I'd remembered.

Going right back to Q so soon in the series has a slight scent of desperation for ideas about it. The genesis of the episode may not actually have been that, though. I even noted in my review of that first episode that the Q element of the story was certainly the best thing about it. The idea for this episode probably just came from writers watching the footage coming in from that episode being filmed, and deciding this was a successful thing they should revisit as soon as possible.

It's odd, though, that Q goes to Riker in this episode, not Picard. There was a notable scene from the pilot where Q stopped taunting Picard long enough to admit some kind of grudging respect for Riker, and it's easy to imagine the writers drawing a line from that to this episode. But the writers of later seasons would rightly focus Q stories back on Picard. The real clash was always between them, with this brief battle against Riker an odd side note.

There's another big Trek inspiration at play in this episode, though: the classic series episode "The Squire of Gothos." That episode featured a powerful alien with godlike powers known as Trelane, who forced the crew to participate in games for his amusement... until his parents came to take him back home for discipline. While the "godlike super alien" aspect of this had been lifted already upon Q's creation for "Encounter at Farpoint," the actual portrayal on both the page and in the finished product did treat Q and Trelane as reasonably different kinds of characters, I thought. But not so here. Q basically is Trelane in this episode. Q's costume and setting changes that seemed more for dramatic effect in "Farpoint" are all about fun and games here. He's more playful here, even buddy-buddy in moments, rather than serious and adversarial. And in the end, other members of the Continuum come to whisk Q away against his will.

There are odd pacing problems with the story. Q takes a full third of the episode in revealing the point of his visit, and it's several minutes more before we're shown that Riker has been given the powers of the Q. That leaves no time to truly show any of the temptation or corruption Riker feels because of those powers; he more or less instantly turns arrogant, with upthrust chin (and low camera angles).

But the real omission, I think, is that there's never any serious consideration given to accepting Q's offer. Picard just immediately assumes the answer must be no. They're all in the business of exploration and self-betterment. Wouldn't joining the Q be the ultimate opportunity for all of that? Is their power truly such a corrupting influence? Q never really did anything that nasty to this point in time. Maybe Riker could change them as much as they changed him? (That's the actual hope of the Q, in fact.) If nothing else, maybe it would keep the Q off their backs enough so that they wouldn't keep running into giant force fields in space every eight or nine weeks.

The proof of the Q powers' corruption is supposed to be demonstrated in the final act, where Riker is invited to give a gift to each of his friends to demonstrate how much he cares for them. But I find it a weird sequence where the characters' reactions don't feel entirely authentic. Riker starts talking gifts, and Dr. Crusher somehow immediately knows something is about to happen to Wesley. She tries to hustle Wes out of the room, but Riker "makes him 10 years older" (by transforming him into a soap opera extra). And the teenager who has whined fairly regularly about not being treated with the respect of an adult decides that "it's too soon for this" and that he wants to get there on his own. What?

Riker offers to turn Data into a human, but Data stops him before Brent Spiner even gets out of makeup. Not having any feelings of any kind, how can Data decide that, essentially, being made human this way wouldn't "feel right?" What's the difference between a Q shortcut and the emotion chip he receives seven years and one movie later?

Riker offers Geordi normal eyesight. We saw Geordi consult with Dr. Crusher about this very thing in the first episode, and then pine for it under the effects of intoxication in "The Naked Now." But suddenly, he refuses it, and all he can offer for explanation is "I don't like who I'd have to thank." Again, a bit peculiar, if you ask me. But maybe my thinking is too much of "an outdated, 20th-century nature" (as the speechifying 24th-century heroes might put it), and I just don't understand.

There are a few good moments in the midst of all this, though. John de Lancie once again gives a great performance. He's particularly good in a scene where he trades Shakespearean barbs with Patrick Stewart. Stewart also has a more tender moment as Picard when he consoles Tasha in the "penalty box." It's a false moment of jeopardy that doesn't actually threaten the character for more than a moment, but Denise Crosby does show some cracks in Yar's emotional armor, and then berates her own weakness in a believable way.

This episode also has a rare Dennis McCarthy score that I actually like. It has fun militaristic elements for Q's "vicious animal things," including even a few phrases from La Marseillaise. There's an interesting mock choir for Q's appearance as an ancient monk, and weirdly sinister music for the brief moments of the Klingon mating ritual we see.

Other observations:

• What's with the title, exactly? I mean, "Hide and Q" / "hide and seek," I get that. But that's not even a pun. Doesn't it have to rhyme or something?

• Q shows up in a Starfleet admiral's uniform near the beginning of the episode. It's a flashier style than the admiral uniforms we'd see later, and has a lot of interesting detailing that shows up wonderfully on the Blu-ray remaster.

• The exact wager made here between Q and Picard is that if Q loses (and he does), he will "keep[ing] out of humanity's path forever." As I recall, the details of this bet are fudged considerably in Q's next appearance, in the second season. (But they had to write John de Lancie back onto the show somehow.)

• Counselor Troi doesn't appear in this episode, hastily written out in Picard's opening monologue as being off the ship for some reason. Presumably Marina Sirtis wasn't available for this episode, or she had an "only this many episodes per season" contract and the writers decided to use one of her "off weeks" here. But it's a shame, really. Given Troi and Riker's back story, I think there was a huge lost opportunity here in seeing how she would have reacted to Riker's situation, and how she might have talked him out of joining the Q much more effectively than Picard.

• While on Q's imaginary planet, Worf is sent ahead to scout the enemy soldiers' camp. But Geordi uses his VISOR to track Worf the whole way, even spotting the camp before Worf reaches it. I have to ask, if Geordi can do that, why send Worf?

• Speaking of Worf, he really gets a lame gift from Riker in the whole gift-giving sequence at the end of the episode. Wes gets adulthood, Geordi gets sight, Data is offered humanity -- these are all things they could not possibly get any other way. By contrast, Riker basically offers to take Worf to a whore house, conjuring up a Klingon female for him to have sex with. What does it say about Worf if, like those other gifts, it's something he actually can't get for himself?

• We learned about "the Picard Maneuver" -- the starship combat tactic -- in the episode "The Battle," but the term was later used humorously by the fans to describe the captain's trademark tugging on his uniform. I thought this didn't really start happening until the introduction of the two-piece uniforms in season three, but there's a moment here in this episode where Patrick Stewart sits and then tugs at his waist to smooth his uniform. The first ever "Picard maneuver?"

I guess performance counts for a lot with me, because when I rank this episode in relation to others, I conclude that I should be giving it a C. Content-wise, though, it seems a lot worse than that on paper. I guess the writers ultimately felt the same way I do, as they did end up bringing back Q (a lot) after this, despite a less than stellar episode.

Qui-rious

The first Cirque du Soleil production I ever heard of (from a friend who saw it and enthusiastically praised it) was actually one I never saw myself, Quidam. It was too late at the time for me to see the touring show before it left town, and ultimately my first in-person Cirque experience was Mystère, in Las Vegas. But this past week, Quidam returned to Denver for a brief engagement of a few days, and I got to see where it (sort of) all stared.

Being one of the older Cirque shows, Quidam is somewhat less inventive than some of the later shows that would follow. Its format is the same sort of loose narrative of shows like Mystère and La Nouba. It includes many routines similar to those that appear in other shows -- a routine with Diabolos, an aerial silk performance, comic interludes incorporating audience plants, and so forth. But familiar though it is, it's hardly boring. The acrobatic feats by the Cirque performers are still second to none.

Quidam features one of Cirque du Soleil's more interesting characters. The name of the show itself is shared by a bizarre headless character in bright neon colors, carrying an umbrella and a bowler hat. Many other characters are a bit more "stock" for Cirque shows, but the strange headless figure draws the eye whenever he/it steps on stage.

The show has one of the stronger musical soundtracks of any of the Cirque shows I've seen. It's another contribution by Cirque regular Benoît Jutras, but with a more rock-based set of instruments including saxophone, prominent electric guitar, and four-on-the-floor percussion.

Overall, I wouldn't say I was wowed by Quidam. Maybe you've seen too many Cirque shows if you start to be at all jaded by them. Still, it was entertaining, and I'm glad to have added it to my "collection."

Fainting Spell

So, last week, I mentioned a concert I went to. For those who were curious, it was The Faint, playing at the Ogden Theatre. I'd never heard of them before my boyfriend introduced me to their music, but I definitely like their sound. They have a sort of new wave vibe; a touch of synth pop in a heavy base of indie rock. I particularly like their 2008 album, Fasciinatiion, if you're looking to check out their music yourself.

I'm tempted to write two versions of my review here. As it unfortunately worked out, my boyfriend -- the one who wanted to go see the band in the first place -- was out of town for work when concert night finally rolled around. What had been planned as a group of four ended up being a group of three instead. And just so he doesn't feel extra miserable about having to miss the show, I almost want to post a "meh, they were alright" review.

But that wasn't the case. The truth is, they gave a really fun, energetic performance. Their high-octane drummer kept a frenetic pace from beginning to end. Their enthusiastic keyboard player spent as much time dancing wildly on his corner of the stage as playing his instrument. Their bass player (and sometime guitarist) was always front and center in the sound mix, for a powerful pulse you could feel all through your body. And their vocalist moved around through a wild light and fog show that kept the eyes as engaged as the ears.

Basically, they rocked.

There was also an intriguing opening act, Robert DeLong, a one man band who moved around from instrument to instrument as he moved from song to song. Most unusual was the way he generated vocal distortion effects by weaving around a Wii remote, and another moment where he played a synth solo on an XBox controller. Definitely entertaining, and a performer whose music I plan to seek out now.

The Faint's new tour has just begun (as they pointed out several times, telling the audience how this was "the first time" they were performing a given song live). So if you like their music (or sample it and like what you hear), you might want to check if they're coming to your town. It was a very reasonably priced ticket, and a great evening's entertainment.

Sky High Expectations

This afternoon, I went to see the news James Bond movie, Skyfall. From the box office returns, it seems many of you out there have already seen it. But if you haven't yet, I want to caution you a bit.

The critics' reviews for the movie have been over the top, with many sky high marks and several proclaiming it the best Bond film that's ever been made. I've seen people gushing about how Javier Bardem deserves another Oscar nomination. I've been hearing about how Adele has served up the best Bond movie theme ever.

Yes, the movie is good, and worth seeing. It's not as good as all that.

What's great is how this James Bond movie has been approached with all the dramatic integrity of a "serious film." Director Sam Mendes never puts tongue in cheek, presenting this tale with the same realism and attempt to capture emotion as any other film he's made (a list that includes American Beauty, Road to Perdition, and Revolutionary Road). He's assembled as powerful a cast as any of those movies had. Joining Daniel Craig and Judi Dench (already the most highbrow actors the Bond franchise ever had), you have Javier Bardem, Ralph Fiennes, Albert Finney, and the lesser known Ben Whishaw -- all of whom have been excellent in other movies, and who take their work here every bit as seriously.

And perhaps that's a bit of the problem. This movie is damn serious. There are a few moments of levity, mostly injected by Bardem when he seems to channel touches of Christopher Walken's performance from A View to a Kill. Following Casino Royale and Quantum of Solace, this intensely dramatic tone might not be a surprise -- except that Daniel Craig has been saying all over the place in interviews that this is the finally the Bond movie where he feels like they're opening up and having fun again. Only by the slightest degree, I'd say.

Also absent in this film are the grand stakes and grand villainous schemes that were the hallmark of the best Bond films. This is a pretty straight up revenge flick, and the villain is operating on a very personal level. There's nothing wrong with that, on the face of it. But it does sometimes make the train-top fist fights, subway tunnel chases, and massive explosions feel a bit tacked on to what wants to be a more intimate film.

Those action sequences are pretty damn thrilling, though. The pre-credits sequence is an exhilarating romp through multiple settings. The climatic battle is an extended spree of killing and explosions that thrills and entertains. And most of the action in between is just as good. Plus, it's all set to a rip-roaring score by Thomas Newman.

I just want to try to knock down the expectations you may have, in case you'd built them up as I did thanks to the hype. It's good. It might even be the best of the Daniel Craig Bond films, by a touch. But it's not Bond's Best Ever. I give it a B. Factor that into your expectations, and then by all means go see it.

The Role You Were Born to Play

I finally got caught up with this week's new Glee, and for the most part, I found it worth the wait. There were a few missteps, but I felt the show maintained the creative resurgence that has kept it well ahead of the spotty place it was in previous seasons.

First, what worked. I'm glad the writers have realized that not every episode of Glee has to have Rachel and Kurt in it. I thought the four episodes that kicked off this season did a pretty good job of juggling the New York and Ohio storylines, but I also think that sooner or later, there would come an episode where one plot felt overly distorted to match the other. Instead, they've embraced the approach that Lost came to use in its later seasons, with its divided cast -- some episodes, one of the groups is just going to have the week off.

Blake Jenner is definitely going to work well on this show. I never watched the first season of The Glee Project, but I did catch every episode of the second. It didn't take long for it to become clear to me, Blake was the one who should win it. Watching one of the first season's "winners" smile in the background as Rory throughout season 3 of Glee, the mistake that was clear to me was that Ryan Murphy and company never made sure their choice could act. Yeah, he had a great voice, and a different personal story unlike any of the other characters on Glee (he was from Ireland), but he couldn't act. I assumed Blake, though most deserving, would lose season 2 of The Glee Project -- he was rock solid in every performance, but had no big personal backstory to serve as a short cut for Murphy having to actually think up a character of his own. But I was pleasantly surprised that the Power(s) That Be on Glee made the right choice this time.

I was just as pleasantly surprised to see that choice then shine in his first episode on the show. The character that they created for him isn't exactly fantastic -- I guess they think the show just has to have a "Finn" -- but he was busting out dance moves better than anything he ever showed on the Glee Project, nailing his first big song (the "classic rock" song, ahem, Jukebox Hero), and in my opinion acting the part of "Finn" better than Cory Monteith ever did.

What didn't work quite so well for me was yet another unexplained (and unexplainable) contortion of Sue Sylvester into crazed villainy. Right there in this very episode, she reminded all of us what a supporter she was of Kurt, making it all the more peculiar how she reacted when dealing with someone who identifies as transgender. She was extra regressive in her attitudes, extra mean in her behavior, extra nasty in her insults. It really came to a head in for me in the moment where Finn reflexively insulted Sue's child. His slur was offensive, absolutely... and yet why, when we're meant to take that moment as awful, should we treat any of the equally awful things Sue was doing in the episode as humorous?

Still other parts of the episode fell into a middle ground for me. I'm glad to get more of the old cast back into the show, though I groan at the contrivance of Mercedes and Mike coming back from whatever lives they were trying to start to assist on a high school musical. I'm glad to have Finn in a plot that doesn't involve Rachel, but it's pretty ridiculous that he could just show up and teach glee club, that simple. I'm glad that we got a taste of Mike and Tina trying to work together after their break-up, but disappointed that we didn't see how they got through it; we just jumped straight to her being cast in the musical. I'm glad we saw Blaine still wallowing in the misery of his mistake, but the writing of it (and Darren Criss' performance) were a bit extreme. (Or maybe authentic high school?) I'm glad we saw Will and Emma resolve their differences without dragging out their problems for weeks, but mystified about their use of Coach Bieste as their "counselor."


Great musical performances this week. The gender reversal and slo-mo fun of "Hopelessly Devoted to You" was a good opener. (And seriously, go back and look at some of the things happening around Blaine on the football field. Hilarious!) Unique and Marley's treatment of Pink's newest single seriously rocked; no callback should have been necessary. As mentioned, "Jukebox Hero" was a solid introduction for Blake. The duet on "Everybody Talks" by Jake and Kitty had some seriously impressive dance moves. And "Born to Hand Jive," though ridiculous in Grease, and kind of silly its "dance off" presentation here, was still kinda stupid-fun anyway.

Overall, I'd call this week's episode a B+. Glee always asks some pretty big buys of its audience when it comes to plot developments. At least this time, it went to making a mostly fun episode.

Restrain the Kraken

An author I enjoy reading had himself at some point recommended a novel from China Miéville, entitled Kraken. I knew almost nothing of what the book was about, but in trying to investigate whether it was something I might like to read, a friend of mine turned out to have read it. Without quite stating concretely whether he actually liked the book, he loaned me his copy.

I got around 170 pages into the 500 total before I simply couldn't slog through any more. I don't abandon a book lightly, particularly a third of the way in, but this one was simply a mess.

It started out promising, presenting itself as sort of a Dan Brown style museum thriller, more intelligently written. A man working in a British museum, tasked with preserving a dead giant squid in a massive tank, is shocked one day to learn the squid has somehow been stolen from the museum without a trace. Police try to use his expertise on the subject to track down a cult they suspect may be involved. But soon it turns out that the book is actually a fantasy set in the real world. Magic is at play in London, and a number of end-of-the-world cultists are all circling this mysterious squid as an actual god, the Kraken, that will play a central role.

Once this turn happened, the book almost instantly transformed from compelling, intelligent adventure into a modernized version of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. It had the same overly dense structure, meandering plots, needless subplots, and an obsession over "the world" more than the characters.

Soon, it reached a point where I was hard pressed to make myself read more than 15 pages a night. And soon after that, I found that in 15-page chunks, the book wasn't making any sense at all. There were so many characters divided into so many plots that I would read about somebody and then not come back to them for days. Worse, the intervening pages weren't always about other characters, but were often just background information on the nature of how magic operates in the world. Incredibly dry stuff. You could read a whole chapter and barely touch on the person the chapter was ostensibly about.

Once I made the connection that I was reading another Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, I closed the cover immediately. Mid-chapter. That other book was an epic, painful slog that took me months to finish. And at the end, it was all a thoroughly unsatisfying waste of time. (I rated it a D.) I weighed the possibility that this was another, similar waste of time vs. the possibility that the book might turn around again to be enjoyable as it was in the beginning. I concluded that with the weeks more I'd probably have to put in, and the many more books on my pile, I was opting out.

I suppose I can only grade Kraken an "incomplete" -- but I did give it 1 star over on Goodreads, if you're looking for a definitive measure. The bottom line: don't read it.

Reunited, and It Feels So-So

To those of you who came looking for my review of the return episode of Glee: sorry, not tonight. I went out to a concert this evening (itself a likely subject of an upcoming entry), and don't expect to catch up until the weekend. Tonight, please enjoy this dish I prepared earlier.

I missed it in theaters earlier this year, but had the chance to catch American Reunion -- the fourth theatrically released movie in the American Pie series -- on DVD. I remember the advertising for it proudly claiming that all of the original cast members returned for the film, and indeed, every last character I can think of of even minor significance has at least a small cameo appearance. So right off, the nostalgia dial on the film is set high.

Then you add the plot of the movie. It involves all the characters returning for their high school reunion, reflecting about where they were in life then and where they are in life now... it's frankly rather heady stuff for a comedy. And that's basically the problem with this movie. It's way too long on plot and way too short on the simple, raunchy laughs of the original.

As an ensemble cast, the actors of American Pie are a generally skilled bunch. They actually imbue this story with a surprising amount of introspection. You really do take a look (if only a superficial one) at issues like: How do you keep the spontaneity and passion in a marriage after you've had a child? How can you really live your life when you keep comparing each new romantic partner to "the one that got away?" What's it like to face being a "has been" in your early 30s? What's it like to still be desperately clinging onto the imagined glories of high school a decade later? Where is the line between compromising with a spouse and setting aside all your own interests and desires to be with them?

Thoughtful stuff, sure. But not particularly rife for comedy, as a whole. American Reunion has sweet scenes, but not very many funny ones, especially not when compared to the original film. (And the many homages in this movie invite you to make exactly that comparison.) There's a certain mindset I think I could have been in to be more receptive to this movie, but its mere membership in the American Pie film franchise set me up with the wrong expectations.

I give the movie a middle of the road C. It's certainly nothing that anyone involved should be embarrassed of, but at the same time, it's simply not worthy of the hilarious film whose ghost it constantly invokes.

TNG Flashback: The Battle

There are a few odd quirks in the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode "The Battle," but overall I would call it the best episode of the series to that point.

The Enterprise is summoned to meet a Ferengi vessel, whose captain makes a gift to Picard of his old starship, the Stargazer. It seems the Ferengi found the ship derelict after it was abandoned nine years ago in the aftermath of a battle with a Ferengi cruiser. Now the Ferengi captain is using a strange thought control device to force Picard to relive that old battle, and exact revenge for a personal loss on that day.

This is the second episode to feature the Ferengi, and the last episode until almost the end of the second season. I think you see the television production cycle at work in this. The writers were already putting this episode together before the disastrous first appearance of the Ferengi was filmed (or at least broadcast); it was too late to turn back. But that episode was so bad, making the Ferengi something so to be steered clear of, that I think the writers really overlooked the fact that in this episode, they aren't half bad.

Actually, the Ferengi of this episode are quite a lot like the way they'd ultimately be portrayed in Deep Space Nine. Profit motive is everything, and there aren't too many comic beats extracted from that. Instead, we see genuine confusion from DaiMon Bok's crew about his purpose here. We see that the Ferengi do have an ethical code of their own. And they don't hop around like monkeys the whole time. No, they are not "menacing" as such, but this is a story in which the Ferengi work well enough.

Another subtle but very neat aspect of the writing here is the incorporation of actual science into the science fiction. The climatic moment of the episode revolves around "the Picard Maneuver," a starship battle tactic invented by our captain -- and a tactic that actually makes sense, from a physics standpoint. A distant ship makes a brief warp jump, overtaking its own image as the light travels to the observer, and thus appearing briefly to be in two places at once. Not only this, but there are casual mentions of inertia keeping objects in motion in space, and trace particles even in what would be considered "empty space." It's all scientifically sound, and all just naturally woven into the writing in a way that's not about the science. Quite well done.

However other elements of the writing, also minor and casual, work against the episode. For example, the Enterprise is said at the start of the episode to be waiting for three days with the Ferengi vessel before anything actually happens. Really? If you knock on a door and hear someone inside call, "be there in a minute," how long do you wait before you just turn around and leave? And then there's Counselor Troi, claiming to sense deception in the Ferengi captain, even though episodes both before and after this one establish that Betazoids can't read the thoughts of Ferengi. And what about these "thought maker" devices? At least DaiMon Bok acknowledges they're expensive, but I'd still have to be worried about a universe where people can just go out and buy a mind control device.

But maybe the strangest little quirk of the writing is the notion of how odd it is that Picard would have a headache. I can't decide if everybody is reacting too weakly or too strongly to this. Dr. Crusher seems to say that people don't get headaches in the future. Don't even get them in the first place? Why is that, because of some inoculation or something? In which case, shouldn't she be instantly, majorly concerned that Picard has managed to somehow get one anyway?

Those are all just silly details that are fun to pick at, though. (Like the fact that DaiMon Bok beams off the Stargazer through its raised shields.) The majority of the episode is actually just filled with nice character interactions, well played by the main cast.

For example, I can't understand at all what ever led to Gates McFadden being kicked off the show for a year after the first season. Here we are, only eight episodes in, and at least half of those episodes have had moments of really nice interplay between Picard and Crusher. This one might be the best yet. McFadden shows Crusher's genuine concern, both in a personal and professional capacity, and even trades a few fun jokes with him. At this early point in the series, I might even go so far as to say that the Picard/Crusher relationship is the best developed one. They just have a really interesting and fun rapport.

LeVar Burton does well with a handful of technical/engineering moments thrown to Geordi in this episode. It makes you wonder why the writers never realized from the beginning that Geordi should have been the chief engineer. You want a regular cast member to be able to participate in these more technical plot elements. Who are you going to give those lines to? Worf? Tasha? Not likely.

Jonathan Frakes is pretty good here too. You really get Riker's sense of duty in this episode -- the undercurrent of skepticism below the overriding need to follow orders. Marina Sirtis is also pretty good in Troi's moments reacting to Picard's painful stabs of machine-induced memories; she isn't over the top, and conveys a reasonable confusion in trying to make sense of just what it is her empathy is perceiving.

But, not surprisingly, it's Patrick Stewart who steals the show. He does an excellent job of showing us the typical, confident Jean-Luc Picard at the outset of this episode. But it gives way to a just-as-believable self-doubt and uncertainty. You see his slow unraveling, and you see the physical pain he experiences at all sorts of intensities. About the only moment that doesn't quite ring true is his zombie-like "destroy the sphere" chant right at the end of the episode -- and I'm inclined to blame that on the dialogue, not the performance.

Other miscellaneous thoughts:

• The ghostly effects used to present the Stargazer crew in Picard's hallucinations are simple but effective. I also like that you don't see the crew speak, you only hear their voices... though it's possible that wasn't a stylistic choice. It may have been cheaper to not pay these extras to speak, and then dub their voices in later. (With some really bad voice actors, if I may say so.)

• A big dramatic moment comes at the end, in which a defense has to be devised on the spot to the Picard Maneuver. But it seems to me the only thing it has going for it is the element of surprise. If you know it's coming, can't you just not be fooled? The real ship is the closer one.

• Speaking of the Picard Maneuver, the warp effect shown on the Stargazer is not the standard Next Generation one, but rather the one used in the movies. Nice touch there in showing the age of the ship.

• Composer Ron Jones delivers another great score in this episode, though there are a few moments that seem a little off today due to the fake sounding synthesizers of the 1980s.

• When Picard blows up the sphere at the end of the episode with his phaser, there's a totally unnecessary stunt of him being thrown back by the blast. Do you have to set your phaser to "shock wave" to destroy something?

• Wesley Crusher is insufferable in this episode -- a point that Wil Wheaton himself once noted in reflecting on this episode. Of everyone on the ship, only Wesley notices that a low-range signal from the Ferengi ship exactly matches the brain scans of Captain Picard. Which might have gone by without annoying the audience, except for the obnoxious way in which he drops this knowledge on Troi and his mother: "You're welcome, ladies... Adults." Wow. "Shut up, Wesley," indeed.

"The Battle" is a pretty solid episode that holds up well despite a few minor flaws. I give it a B+.

The Year in Review

One of the "if you blinked, you missed it" films of 2011 was The Big Year. It starred Steve Martin, Jack Black, and Owen Wilson as birding enthusiasts competing to spot the most different bird species in a single calendar year. Intrigued by that cast with solid comedy credentials, I decided to check out the movie.

The big surprise of The Big Year is that, despite the pedigree, the film really isn't a comedy. It has only one, maybe two genuine laughs in the entire film (and they aren't delivered by any of the three big stars). If anything, the movie is a sad look at the cost of obsession, what a person gives up in pursuit of a goal. But the movie doesn't exactly meditate on any truths there either; mostly, it's just a simple little story about a somewhat quirky subject.

The cast is the main draw, and it doesn't stop with the three stars I've named. Supporting roles in the film are played by Rashida Jones, Anjelica Huston, Jim Parsons, Dianne Wiest, JoBeth Williams, Brian Dennehy, and more. It's a bit unclear to me what about this script spoke so deeply to so many fairly big names, but their presence does keep things entertaining even when though they're never laugh out loud funny.

Another major draw of the film might be its impressive locations. The sweeping vistas of the movie are postcard ready (even if many of them are places near Vancouver doubling for parts of the U.S.). There may even be a moment or two where you get briefly caught up in the notion of seriously taking up birding as a hobby, if it would take you to places as gorgeous as those in the film.

Objectively speaking, the movie isn't bad. But it's hard not to be somewhat disappointed by it because of completely mismatched expectations. I'll try to put all that into perspective and grade the movie a B-. You may well find it enjoyable, but you should go in without expecting any big laughs. It has the quirky vibe of a Christopher Guest mockumentary, but apparently none of the comedic aspirations.

Primus Secundus

It was roughly this time last year that I first saw Primus in concert. This past Saturday night, they returned to Denver -- this time to the Fillmore -- and I went to see them again. Last time, they were heavily promoting their latest album, Green Naugahyde. This time was more of a general concert, with the "gimmick" being a 3D element.

"Aren't all concerts 3D?" you might ask. If so, you'd be like half the people I mentioned this event to ahead of time, so seriously, get some original material. In any case, the answer is, no, not quite like this. The big screen on stage behind the band, used to project random video elements throughout the concert, was on this occasion displaying 3D images. Glasses like the ones commonly used at movie theaters were handed out at the door, and you wore them throughout the event.

Some people were clearly experiencing the sort of... chemical effects... to make such a presentation particularly impressive. In my uninfluenced state, I'd call it a mixed bag. Some of the images were well-conceived, such as the aquarium-like bubbles that accompanied "Last Salmon Man." Others, like the hyperspace star streaks that accompanied two or three other songs, simply weren't that impressive. But if any band was to do a gimmick like this, Primus was probably one of the better choices. I wrote of their last concert that they like to play on a very dimly lit stage anyway, shrouding themselves in near darkness. That hasn't changed a bit, although the low light levels made the screen behind them pop even more to the eye.

The music itself was pretty good. I still have a great deal of respect for the musical skill of the band members. But their set list this time wasn't as solid to my ears. The evening actually made me realize more just how good an album their latest, Green Naugahyde, really is. It's probably my favorite, actually. And since they'd just released it in 2011, they played the entire album from beginning to end as their second set of the evening. On this occasion, they just mixed a few tracks from it with their other material -- and not nearly enough from my other favorite album of theirs, the much earlier Frizzle Fry.

Still, the evening was fun, the music both entertaining and weird, and the 3D visuals occasionally inspired. In all, I'd call it a good night out.

Going to the Whitechapel

One of my favorite board games from younger days, one of my first tastes of the world beyond Monopoly and The Game of Life, was a game called Scotland Yard. In it, the players teamed up as a group of detectives against one player as "Mr. X." That game is still interesting, too. But I'm also interested in finding new games of a similar style, and one that's come into my play group is Letters from Whitechapel.

This is another team-against-a-single-player game. It's actually quite similar in theme, though more grisly -- one player is Jack the Ripper, who must kill five victims and escape to his hideout before the police can catch him. As in Scotland Yard, the solo player records his moves in secret, and the team tries to deduce his movements from a limited form of information they can gather.

In this game, that method of information gathering is a bit more compelling. Police players move their pawns to locations, and then get to ask if Jack has been "in a nearby area" (an adjacent space) on any earlier turn of the current round. At first, they know only the location where the body of the victim was discovered, but soon they can piece together a trail of clues indicating where Jack has fled. As the game plays out over several rounds, the players can narrow down their search to try to trap Jack before he reaches his hideout.

I've played it a handful of times now (most often as the police, but once as Jack), and I find the game to be very entertaining and flavorful. But it does have a shortcoming, and it lies in the balance of the rules between the two sides. Without going into great detail, if you play the game by the letter of the rules, there is a very cheesy strategy (widely discussed online) that makes it virtually impossible for the detectives to catch Jack and win the game.

Now among our group, we may have a more natural inclination to what the spirit of the game was intended to be, and no one has ever used this exploit (or maybe even thought to use it). But we've also never had Jack win either. And as many people on sites like Board Game Geek have discussed ways to modify the rules to balance things, they've thrown out suggestions that by and large are agreed to throw the balance too much in that direction -- making it virtually impossible for Jack to win.

In a sense, I'm not sure I can pass final judgment on the game until I've seen the bad guy win it once -- and win it "fairly" (by whatever modified game rules or simple sense of honor enables that). I certainly like playing the game, but whether it stays worthwhile in the long run will depend greatly on that.

So provisionally, I grade the game a B. If anyone out there has played it themselves and has suggestions for house rules, I'd love to hear them, because I certainly want to like the game even more.

TNG Flashback: Justice

I was almost dreading to watch The Next Generation episode "Justice" again. I remembered it being pretty awful when it wasn't just outright silly. And make no mistake, it's no prize. But I was pleasantly surprised to find it much better than I recalled.

The Enterprise crew is exploring the option of shore leave on a planet populated by the Edo -- a primitive society of highly sensual humanoids. It turns out the only thing they view harsher than modest clothing is lawbreaking, because when Wesley falls in a flower bed, they want to execute him. (Just go with it.) The Prime Directive, forbidding Starfleet interference with another society, prevents a simple rescue in principle. And, in a less abstract complication, an orbiting alien vessel the Edo regard as their god wants to force the crew to live up to their own ideals.

Basically, I think you can divide this episode in half. The first half is ridiculous. It's an excuse to put super-buff and super-thin extras (Riker just calls them "fit") in the skimpiest clothing 1980s broadcast standards will allow, then making lots of weak sexual single entendres. Sure, there's eye candy for all (assuming you like blondes, anyway), but I really hope you're not watching a Star Trek episode if that's what you're in the mood for.

The thing is, if you can just get past the stupid setup -- including the fact that Wesley's ridiculous transgression takes place in the one place on the entire planet we're told is having random law enforcement today -- the rest of the episode isn't too bad. The dilemma itself is an interesting one, and the idea of a society that has taken capital punishment too far (exposing both the possible benefits and drawbacks of that) is a compelling science fiction premise. Plus, the speechifying is a bit more eloquently written here than in past episodes; the characters don't look quite so far down their nose at antiquated 20th-century values because they're trying to be diplomatic with an alien society at the same time.

The acting from the main cast is really quite solid. Picard has to do a lot of moral hand-wringing in this episode, and Patrick Stewart's Shakespearean background makes him well-suited to making it all compelling. Gates McFadden is also very good, having to balance professional demeanor, military protocol, and maternal instinct sometimes all in one scene; some of her dialogue isn't the best, but she really does well with it. Michael Dorn scores with the first of Worf's dry one-liners: "Nice planet." Marina Sirtis and Jonathan Frakes share a fun moment as a disapproving Troi chastises a horndog Riker early in the episode. Even Wil Wheaton gets in a good moment near the end, when Wesley decides he might just want to face the music rather than risk the wrath of a vengeful god on the rest of the Enterprise crew.

Other observations:

• In an attempt to gather more information on the alien god vessel orbiting the planet, Picard sends Geordi to go look out a window, to gather more information with his VISOR. A clever thought, and if my memory serves, they don't use this nearly as often throughout the show as would have made sense from an internal story standpoint.

• Although young Wil Wheaton does nail the solid acting moment I mentioned earlier, he had to pay for it with a horribly awful moment written for him earlier in the episode, when Wesley informs a flirty Edo girl that "there are some games I don't quite know yet." Ouch.

• Somewhere after this episode, the exact nature of the Prime Directive and Starfleet's non-interference protocols would be better refined by the writers. The Edo don't even have space travel, never mind warp speed travel, so in retrospect the Enterprise shouldn't have gone to their planet at all.

• Just a few episodes earlier in "Code of Honor," the writers stole the ending of the original series episode "Amok Time" and resolved a deadly scenario by having advanced medicine revive someone killed by poison. With this experience fresh in the crew's minds, you'd think someone might have at least floated the possibility of whether they could let the Edo poison Wesley and then revive him back on the ship. (Of course, the writers wouldn't want to steal from themselves stealing from themselves.)

Yes, the first 15 minutes are dumb, dumb, dumb. Dumb. But there are enough redeeming qualities in the rest of the episode to pull it well back from the brink. I give "Justice" a C+.

Mixed Blessing

Bobcat Goldthwait appeared a few months back on an episode of Real Time with Bill Maher to plug the independent film he recently wrote and directed, God Bless America. The premise seemed interesting enough for me to put the movie into my Netflix queue: when a dispirited middle-aged man is diagnosed with terminal cancer, he decides to embark on a killing spree. Teaming up with a sassy young teenage girl, he begins taking out the people he blames for the moral corrosion of society -- starting with reality TV show personalities.

The film is a dark comedy, rendered darker than Goldthwait ever intended by recent real life events. (I'll get to that in a moment.) It also packs a clear agenda of social commentary against reality television, decaying social graces, and more. It's not a lofty message, but it is an accurate one.

I was watching the movie, enjoying the humor but waffling back on forth on what I thought of the message. It seemed quite shrewd at first, and then too ham-fisted and on the nose after that. But then along came a plot point that is certain to disturb a number of viewers who decide to take in this movie:

Around halfway through the film, the two protagonists decide to go to a theater to watch a documentary war film. They're surrounded by rude patrons who talk to each other, answer their cell phones, and throw candy. So they pull out their guns and mow down all the rude people in the theater before calmly walking out. Let's face it, even the people who aren't offended immediately by this scene are certainly going to at least think of the Aurora theater shooting.

But this scene, conceived of and filmed over a year before the Aurora shooting, is ultimately what made me decide that no, the movie was not too obvious to make a good point. Actually, it was incredibly prescient. Not because it "predicted" the shooting itself, but because it predicted some of the response to the shooting. Later on in the film, the two main characters are watching a news broadcast of their handiwork, and the reporter speculates that they were driven to carry out their massacre by the violent content of the film they were watching. The same ridiculous claim was leveled by some against The Dark Knight Rises, with some theaters subsequently taking the pointless measure of banning masks and costumes after the shooting.

In this aspect, art was a sad predictor of life.

Joel Murray (brother of Bill, and recurring character Freddy Rumsen on Mad Men) stars as a very dry character with a warm gooey center somewhat in the model of the lead in Pixar's Up. Tara Lynne Barr is his plucky young sidekick. The two have a fun rapport together and make an enjoyable if unconventional screen couple.

For some people, there's no way the movie can be funny now in light of this content. The truth is, I don't think the film is riotously funny in any case. It wasn't quite all-out comedic enough to start with to be a top notch comedy. But I think it does generate some laughs, and has an apt message. I'd call it a B-. As to whether or not it gets the recommendation, though? I think you'll have to decide for yourself. If you've felt reluctant to go out to the movie theater since Aurora, you'll almost certainly find this happenstance element of the film to be in poor taste. If you can set that at least partially aside and try to enjoy the film as originally conceived, you may enjoy it.

My Top 100 Movies -- 5-1

We've come at last to the end of my Top 100 Movies list, with my five very favorite movies.

5. Apollo 13. This is the best "based on a true story" film ever made, operating on many levels. Not only does the film strongly convey the sense of awe over the fact that this all actually happened, but it also keeps you in edge-of-your-seat suspense despite knowing exactly how it's going to end. The faithfulness in which the reality is recreated is staggering, right down to scenes actually shot on a KC-135A to create true weightlessness. Bridging the gap, in a way, between science fiction and historical drama, the film was nominated for the Best Picture Oscar in 1996. And its cast is exceptional -- Tom Hanks, Bill Paxton, Kevin Bacon, Gary Sinise, Ed Harris, and Kathleen Quinlan all make you feel every emotion of the situation with amazing immediacy and reality.

4. The Sixth Sense. Long before it was fashionable to crap all over M. Night Shayamalan (and long before he arguably deserved it), the writer-director amazed and entertained with this incredible film. I've raved about the film before, and so I won't rehash all that again. Suffice it to say, I think this film is far more than just its famous twist, a wonderful blending of effective horror and powerful drama, brought to life by a perfect cast.

3. Pleasantville. Several movies in my top 10 revolve around the theme of being truthful to yourself. In my view, no movie captures that better than Pleasantville. Sophisticated visual effects are used in a wonderful way to tell not an action-adventure, but a moving character drama. Once again, this is a film I've reviewed on the blog before, and I refer you back for full details. But once again, it's a perfect cocktail of the things that make me love a movie: a wonderful cast, wonderful writing, and a powerful message.

2. Memento. Christopher Nolan has directed many exceptional movies, but this one that first made many people take notice remains his best in my book. This film is a triumph of fantastic writing, cleverly using the device of the backwards narrative to put the audience in the same head space as the central character. It's also a triumph of directing and editing, for taking that script and bringing it to life with such clarity that you're never once confused about what's going on in the story. Nolan has worked with so many actors in multiple films that I find it a bit odd that he has never again used his three big players here; Guy Pearce is a wonderfully sympathetic hero (and narrates brilliantly -- not an easy thing); Joe Pantoliano and Carrie-Anne Moss play deliciously complex characters that can be sympathetic one moment and diabolical the next. I'm awed by how incredibly smart this movie is.

1. Back to the Future. Anyone who has been reading my blog for a while will not be surprised by my #1 film. I'm written of my love for Back to the Future not once but twice (unknowingly using the same post title both times). The film gets bonus points for the wondrous experience I had seeing it for the first time at age 9, but I'm sure it would be a top movie for me regardless. Tense, hilarious, thrilling, and touching, I think this movie has it all. Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd are a perfect comic duo, and the supporting cast is just as strong. Alan Silvestri's amazing score put him on the map as a film composer. I doubt I'll ever see a movie I like more.

So there you have it (and what, only nearly a year after I first started?), my Top 100 Movies. I hope you've had fun with my picks, and I hope you have even more fun putting your own list together.