A Not-at-All Miserable Experience

It might seem preposterous that Rob Reiner and William Goldman, the director and writer (respectively) who made The Princess Bride, would reteam to adapt Stephen King's Misery for the screen. It might seem even more preposterous that I had never seen the movie. Yet both are true. Well... the latter no longer.

Of course, it's not possible to come at a movie this much in the zeitgeist (full of catch phrases and notorious scenes) with a fresh perspective or expectations. What's more, I actually read the original book many years ago. It was one of a handful of Stephen King books I once tried, as I do about every three years or so. (After which, when I reveal that I didn't think it was particularly good -- or bad -- to a fan, said fan replies immediately that I didn't really read one of King's "best" books.)

But I think in this case, that background was a very helpful thing. Because I think Misery was a far better movie than a book. From my recollection of the book, Stephen King got a little too bogged down in the premise of a writer being terrorized by a crazed fan. The movie wisely refocused on a victim being terrorized by a crazy person.

King spends huge chunks of the book writing about things that obviously "scare" him -- being a writer worried about his reputation, about churning out mass market work when he really wants to try "something different"; having unreasonable fans that prevent him from doing the work he really wants to do, forcing him to write things he doesn't want to. Newsflash, Mr. King: most of your readers don't know what that's like. Perhaps some aspiring writers dream of being so lucky as to have such problems, but these woes are completely unrelatable to your audience.

The movie does include one or two choice scenes of the relationship between writer and fan. But mostly, it keeps things far more visceral and accessible. What if you were utterly helpless, and in the "care" of an unstable lunatic? Well... now we're talking!

Except that the movie introduces a few weird problems of its own. In order to expand the cast from a simple two-hand piece of theater, the movie adds a character of an old sheriff and his wife. And while the two are moderately entertaining to watch (and well played by Richard Farnsworth and Frances Sternhagen), they don't really service the story at all. The leaps in logic that clue the sheriff into what's really going on strain credibility. And then, after an entire subplot spent following his investigation... he doesn't save the day. The point of all that then being...?

But fortunately, the movie still rests mostly in the hands of two characters, and both Kathy Bates and James Caan are excellent in their roles. Bates won the Oscar for this, and deservedly so, because she somehow makes dialogue that's just this side of laughably stupid on the page seem truly menacing on the screen. Less praised, but just as good, is Caan -- all the stronger, in my mind, for playing so against his type. Aside from that unfortunate stop at a toll booth in The Godfather, Caan's characters have often been strong, head-bashing type toughs. But in Misery, he is weak and vulnerable almost from beginning to end.

It's not a perfect movie, but a very good one. And, I think, the best adaptation I could imagine of the original material. I rate it a B.

Day 7, 11:00 PM - 12:00 AM

I'm guessing that "Naked Jack Bauer" is not going to be the next exciting action figure released.

Why do torturers always say "I'm not going to ask you again" when they always do?

Everyone on the set was suddenly thinking "what the hell" to Jon Voight's weird-ass face slapping thing, but nobody was going to say anything to him, cause he's freakin' Jon Voight.

Olivia wants Rick Berman for Chief of Staff. So the guy that completely ruined Star Trek can go completely ruin the country.

I liked Olivia better with a knife to her eyeball.

There's an eminent threat to national security, so of course you want your President to convene a meeting.

Larry thinks Renee should be the one to debrief Jack. But someone else already did that this hour.

Aaron doesn't want to go back to work for Olivia. Olivia got him shot. Not even the batshit crazy First Lady got him shot.

The President says "this day is not over." Well, duh, it's like 11:20.

Why does Tony not take the other gun off the guy that just got shot?

This presidential pardon is brought to you by Cisco.

The villains decided a defining characteristic of Tony's to prey upon was that he was "good." He's also dead-but-not-dead. I would have liked to see zombie interrogators.

Wrapped Up In Itself

That wacky writer Charlie Kaufman, the man behind Being John Malkovich and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, is at it again. I recently saw his newest film, "Synecdoche, New York." The movie stars Philip Seymour Hoffman as a director with an unraveling family life who receives a grant to embark on a great new piece of theater -- a warehouse in New York City in which actors play everyone in New York City in a giant recreation of the city itself.

Yes, it's another strange Charlie Kaufman premise, but this movie is distinct in that it also marks his first directorial effort. But I found it difficult to say how successful it was, because it also turned out to be his weakest writing effort to date. For all the strangeness of the other movies I mentioned (and Adaptation as well), each earlier script from Kaufman had fairly coherent stories to tell and themes to explore. Synecdoche dabbles in a lot of what seems to me like weirdness for its own sake.

The opening scene plays out like a single morning at family breakfast, but various audio and visual clues casually dropped in the scene actually tell us that several months pass in the span of a single breakfast. A secondary character purchases a house that is literally on fire, despite the concerns she expresses to her realtor about the fire. (She then goes on to live in the house for years... Spoiler Alert! ... before ultimately dying of smoke inhalation.)

The movie had strangeness in spades, but very little sentiment. The cast is phenomenal, and fully engages in a blatantly false set of circumstances, but they only occasionally make things interesting. The movie is simultaneously very creative, and very boring. I'd suggest skipping this C- effort.

Room with a Review

Having recently had luck watching Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho ("luck" in that I found it to be one of the rare "classic" films that was indeed a good movie, in my opinion), I decided to take a look at another famous Hitchcock effort I'd never seen, Rear Window. It was another success, but a rockier road getting there.

Rear Window was very definitely divided into three acts, and not of equal length. Put simply, in the first act, the first 45 minutes of the film, nothing happens. It's a long, drawn out setting up of the main character played by James Stewart, his girlfriend played by Grace Kelly, and a couple other secondary characters. It's an even longer laying out of the geography -- the apartment complex in which the character lives, and information (too labored to call "vignettes") of all the neighbors across the way that can be glimpsed through their windows.

To some extent, all of this material is of course necessary for the tale that follows to have context and importance. You have to invest in the characters for any of it to matter. But I really started to get bored, almost nodding off, about 20 minutes in. I was heading toward a pretty dim view of the movie when, by nearly the halfway point of its hour and 50 minutes run time, nothing of importance had occured.

But finally, act two began. And then things started to get considerably more interesting. The really neat twist on the film is that when the mystery finally arrives, it's not a "whodunit," it's a "wazitreallydunatall?" We aren't shown any conclusive evidence of a crime, and the film becomes just as much about the possible unraveling of the main character as the possible crime in the apartment across the courtyard.

And then came the last act, the final 20 minutes, and it was spectacular -- a wonderful sequence of tension and drama. Without resorting to modern cheap tricks of loud music stings and mischievous camera cutting, the movie draws you up in your seat, eager and engaged. It's 55 years since the movie was made, but the final act set me on edge more effectively than a great many supposed thrillers of the last decade.

All told, I still can't overlook a near-excruciating opening that runs at least 15 minutes too long, and so I didn't find it as great a movie as Psycho. But it's still one well worth seeing, to any of you who have some how missed it as I had. I rate it a B-.

Creme That Egg!

In honor of the upcoming Easter holiday, I present to you this fabulous Rube Goldberg device:



About the only thing keeping this video from its maximum awesome potential is the absence of the "Breakfast Machine" theme from Pee Wee's Big Adventure.

Less Than Half Interesting

Denver is buried under more than a foot of snow tonight -- our first credible snowfall all winter actually. It was a great day to not go outside, so I stayed at home today and watched a bunch of movies. Unfortunately, I can't say that most of them were good movies.

One movie on the "I can't recommend it" list is Half Nelson, a movie which garnered Ryan Gosling an Oscar nomination for Best Actor a couple years back. It's the story of a school teacher in a poor neighborhood, battling a drug addiction.

The problem is, I basically just gave you the entire plot of the movie. There aren't many particulars beyond that premise. (No, he's not named Nelson, and no, he doesn't coach a wrestling team.) It's one of those independent movies that seems less concerned with telling a dramatic story with a beginning, middle, and end as it is seeking to "portray a world." Here's a slice of life of this guy. We'll start on a, say Thursday, and just sort of show you the things that happen to him for a week or two. If it happens that a plot develops, well maybe that's okay too.

If you don't yourself have a drug problem, or haven't dealt with a family member or friend who has one, then the movie probably won't be very relatable to you. Which is sort of the point I think people making these types of movies are after. The unspoken assumption is that people who tend to see these small, word-of-mouth films need an "education" on this sort of existence. Maybe so; I have nothing wrong with a movie that wants to teach (or even preach) a little. But I think it has to tell a story too. And I don't think this one did.

But I will say that, as advertised, Ryan Gosling is very, very good in this movie. He completely embodies the character; he's powerful and believable. And he's also, in my view, about the only thing going for the film. I rate it a D+.

He's Our You

This week's Lost was the latest of several "fill in the blanks" episodes we're likely to get over the next few weeks. This one covered the events of how Sayid wound up on the flight back to The Island, and the answer there was pretty much as expected -- he was a prisoner being brought against his will.

For me, the element that felt missing from the proceedings was the explanation of what happened between the time Sayid finished killing for Ben and the time Ben reapproached him later in the Dominican Republic. We know that Sayid first aligned with Ben in search of revenge for the death of his beloved Nadia. We know that Ben led Sayid to believe that Widmore was responsible for this. Are we simply to assume that Sayid found out at some intervening point that this was a lie? Otherwise, I can't understand Sayid's sudden hatred of Ben. And given where this episode was leading, I'm surprised this would be left as a blank for us to fill in, that we wouldn't see exactly the reason Sayid came to hate Ben once again.

As for that ending, with Sayid murdering Young Ben, we have to remember the stance Lost has taken on time travel, "Farraday's Rule" that "whatever happened, happened." You can't change the past. Therefore, Ben is not dead. I suspect the resolution to this conundrum may have something in common with the end of season three, in which Adult Ben shot Locke and left him for dead. No, I doubt the strange "spectral residue" of Walt (or whatever the hell that was that saved Locke's life) is going to intervene on Ben's behalf, but just as the Island has twice disallowed Locke to die because of his importance, so it seems it won't allow Ben to die either. Perhaps this is part of what allowed both men to lead the Others (Richard notwithstanding).

Interesting, but all heady stuff. Character-based, yes, but all entwined in the big "What's with the Island?" mysteries. So I guess I'd call tonight a middle of the road episode. It was at least a good story for Sayid, a journey of his attempt to change, and his realization of (what he believes to be) his new destiny. But I think it lacked one or two more dramatic beats from his past (or his future, whatever perspective you want to take these days) to really strengthen the story.

It Figures

As a kid, I owned a bunch of Star Wars action figures, including the stupidly obscure "Death Star Droid" figure. Why I wanted to own this then, I can't imagine now. The Droid in question appears on screen for all of about two seconds, as Luke, Han, and Chewie are waiting for the lift to get to the detention level. That had to be the "we're out of figures" figure.

If they're going to make toys that obscure, why not The Force?

Or Owen and Beru (charred)?

Day 7, 10:00-11:00 PM

Senator Mayer continues the proud 24 tradition of getting a "re-cap freeze frame" after death.

They're setting up a "perimeter" at Mayer's house. (Drink!)

Ethan comes in to deliver bad news, and the President starts in on how the day might end of a positive note. Awkwaaaard.

This poor shipping yard security guard is expecting twins. Which makes it twice as sad that his life will be in jeopardy before the hour's over.

Jonas Hodges talks about 6 year olds eating their carrots. Okay, he's officially Weird Metaphor Guy.

Jack can't access the computer. "Dammit!" (Drink!)

Jack promises the security guard he'll be alright. This sort of plot point is almost becoming a new item on the 24 Drinking Game list.

Okay, now they're hitting this business with the security guard's family too hard. They're doing everything short of having him take out an actual photo of his wife. So now we all know he's NOT going to be killed.

The guard gets in the car with the bad guys. "Dammit!" (Drink!)

Ethan looks like Buddy Christ in that photo with the President.

Olivia reveals her nefarious machinations. What is with the writers of 24 and their issues with women? The women on the show all seem to either be evil, or wind up dead. Often both.

The agents say someone accessed Mayer's computer files "within the last hour." So, does that mean we all have to regurgitate a drink?

Renee's whole "look like I'm trying to give up smoking" look with the bandage is starting to get really distracting.

Tony and Jack seem to be playing a round of Wild Gunman.

Tony got caught. "Dammit!" (Drink!) Unfortunately for Tony, he wasn't expecting twins.

The bad guys steal the bomb back from Jack. "Dammit!" (Drink! Man, this hour's out of control!)

Jack Bauer exposes himself to dangerous biological agents. Kiefer Sutherland, on the other hand, exposes himself all the time.

I Rather Like It, Man

This afternoon, I saw the new comedy "I Love You, Man." It stars Paul Rudd as a newly engaged man who, having found the woman he wants to spend his life with, embarks on a quest to find a "bro" the fill the best friend (and best man) void in his life.

The cast includes a "deep bench" of funny people including Jason Segel, Rashida Jones, Jon Favreau, Jaime Pressly, Andy Samberg, J.K. Simmons, and Jane Curtin. And while they all bring the laughs, it's really Paul Rudd who makes the movie. The story hangs on the premise that his character is too awkward to have every formed any lasting guy friendships. And he pulls it off perfectly. There are so many funny, "oh stop talking now" moments, you sometimes feel like you're watching skin-crawling British comedy like The Office. And that's all Paul Rudd's skill.

But there's also good romance (and bro-mance) comedy, slapstick (including the best use of CG vomit that I expect film will ever see), and thankfully, a minimal amount of sentiment -- which movies like this often seem to have in excess.

Though while the movie is funny, it's not the kind of "can't breathe funny" that a comedy has to achieve for it to get the highest marks from me. I certainly recommend seeing it, but I don't think it's the sort of thing that would hold up well enough for me to want to see it again. (Also a rare thing for a comedy, in my book.) I rate it a B+.

Spinsters

It's getting to be that time of year... spring, when all the sign spinners come out to the street corners to ply their trade. (Well, actually -- to shill someone else's stuff.)



I don't think I quite understand sign spinning as a method of advertising. I get that the principle is supposed to be that you notice the sign more because somebody is standing there waving it, but I for one thinks it makes it a hell of a lot harder to read the sign.

It almost seems to me like part of the sign spinning principle is supposed to be playing on people's emotions and getting them to pity the poor spinner. I mean sure, the weather's nice now, but there will be even more spinners out on street corners when it gets to be 90 degrees or more this summer. And when you see that poor guy standing there in the blazing sun (ear buds in, naturally), doesn't part of you want to take a little more interest in what he's pushing?

If that's really what's going on, I think it might just say something slightly disturbing about our society.

Daybreak, Part 2

Close the cover. This story is done.

Tonight was the final episode of Battlestar Galactica. (Upcoming movie not included. Spin-off series Caprica included less.) And it was a good ending. I have to say that it was not the "best" episode of Battlestar Galactica. Other episodes featured better moments of tension, better spectacular space battles, better moments of character drama. By most any measure, I think you could find some other episode of the series to rank above this one.

But... the whole was greater than the sum of the parts here, I think. And more importantly, it was the right ending. So even if other episodes impact me more strongly, I was nevertheless satisfied by this one.

Indeed, the "before the fall" flashbacks did turn out to be more relevant upon seeing them in the full three-hour context rather than the one-hour sampling from last week. Particularly potent was Adama coming that close to retiring before his role in the grand adventure could take place, and Starbuck confiding her fear of not being remembered (as "on point" a moment as there could possibly be).

Some fun bits, if not momentous ones, included the brief presidency of Romo Lampkin, Roslin breaking into tears as she thanked the Doctor, and "can we not tell her the plan?"

So then... the Big Stuff. It turns out that Earth was not Earth. Not our Earth, anyway. The people who used to joke online that the end would have Baltar appearing in our past and becoming Jesus were kinda-sorta warm. Really, it was all there in the Adama monologue from the opening credits of the original series -- the notion that "life here began out there," and that stellar travelers were the ancestors of our ancient cultures. That basically had to be the end of the series. And so while the mid-season point of "finding Earth" turned out to be a bait-and-switch, I forgive it. I think it was wise to put that mislead earlier in the season so as to bring doubt that the ending would be anything other than what it was.

So Head Six and Head Baltar turn out not to be psychological hallucinations, but actual angels. (I suppose in that one early season four episode where Baltar saw Head Baltar rather than Head Six, it was actually the other angel appearing to him for a change.) It's a bit hard to buy these angels stalking Baltar and Caprica for four years and trumping up their destinies which turn out only to be being there to pick up Hera. Still, if it lacks anything in strength of plot, it makes up for it in thematic and visual strength. The portrayal of all the events of the opera house vision coming to pass made from some cool-looking moments.

Then there was the conclusion of Starbuck's story. She was apparently an agent of God or the gods, sent back from beyond death to get them all to Earth. (Now that had the narrative potence that the Baltar/Six business lacked a bit, in my opinion.) And being on borrowed time, she simply vanished once her task was done. Cool stuff. The only flaw there -- and a small one, I think -- is that I don't think it quite meshed with the "hybrid's prophecy" we heard back in Razor. "She is the herald of the apocalypse. The harbinger of death. They must not follow her." No, as it turned out, they actually must follow her. By why quibble over the random babblings of a hybrid?

Then there was the death of Roslin, another mythic event for the show. I don't think anyone was surprised that she at last succumbed to her cancer in the final episode, but it was still powerful to see that moment, and Adama's reaction to it.

Yet for all the great moments Mary McDonnell delivered in this finale, I was strangely most moved by a brief, almost thrown-away moment between Baltar and Caprica Six. When Baltar broke down telling her that he knew something about farming, it was a powerfully resonant moment for the character, knowing how much he despised his "common" background.

And I think that's about all I have to say. Again, the right ending to satisfy for this series.

When a Head Out the Window Just Isn't Enough

It appears that 70 years ago, a "doggie bag" was an entirely different thing -- at least, according to the folks at Popular Mechanics magazine:

Namaste

I have no idea why we were made to wait an extra week for tonight's episode of Lost, but it did a fairly good job of being worth the wait.

There were several good character moments scattered throughout the hour, beginning with the reunion of Sawyer with Jack, Hurley, and Kate, and ending with Sawyer putting Jack in his place and showing who's in charge now. In between were other interesting scenes. We got to see a taste of Sun's dark side again, when she blindsided Ben with an oar to the head. We got to see Juliet's uneasiness over the return of Kate. (Was she deliberately screwing with Kate just to watch her squirm for a minute? After all, Juliet apparently had no trouble getting Jack on "the list." It seems like she just wanted Kate to twist in the wind for a minute or two.)

There were also a few interesting character mysteries exposed along the way. Why was Sayid in handcuffs? (It certainly goes a long way toward the theory that he was in the custody of a marshal.)

Where has Farraday gone? Did he leave the Island? Die? Join the Others?

What about Sun made her exempt from the same time travel flash that claimed the other Oceanic Six-ers on the plane?

And then there was the final moment where Sayid met a young Ben. Just how much does older Ben remember of that in the present? Has he known something about Sayid all along?

In all, a good installment that fit into place a few more tiles of the strange mosaic that is season five.

A Lack of Brevity

I recently watched the long-titled film, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford. A Western from a few years ago starring Brad Pitt and Casey Affleck in the two title roles, I reckon you can guess the subject matter.

The film has some very nuanced performances in it, from the leads as well as a supporting cast featuring Sam Shepard, Mary-Louise Parker, and a number of other faces that would be recognized by regular movie watchers. You really feel the menace of Jesse James at choice moments in the film, and strongly identify with the hero worship of Robert Ford.

There are many striking visuals in the movie, from a holdup of a train in the black of night to sweeping wilderness vistas blanketed in snow. And also of particular note are the few select moments of violence in the movie. While the film depicts only a handful of violent acts, each manages to pack a jarring realism.

But oh, that script. It's not very clever, but yet incredibly apt, for me to say that this movie is perfectly described by its unwieldy title. It runs two hours and forty-five minutes, seems like it should be maybe half as long, and feels like it might be twice as long. It meanders rather aimlessly for longer than most movies' entire run time. Only about 20 minutes from the end does it finally start to get truly interesting. But it's not remotely enough to redeem the boredom inflicted so far. I'm not even sure if there's really a more compelling movie that could have been edited from this one; there's really only about five minutes' worth of interesting material before that final push.

If you like your Westerns slow, this might be the film for you. I suppose the television series Deadwood has conditioned me to expect more. I rate this movie a D+.

Day 7, 9:00-10:00 PM

Jack Bauer is the Fastest Hotwire in the East.

Suddenly, I'm feeling validated in my choice of Sprint for my cell phone service, but I'm not sure why.

"If Bauer connects us to Juma, it could seriously impede this operation." Impede?

In a further effort to make us believe this hitman guy as the credible Evil Jack Bauer, they even put the same number of letters in his name -- John Quinn.

Is there a piano player at Senator Mayer's house?

Ethan: "I said no comment." Actually, no, he didn't.

The little O'Brian is named "Prescott?" Rough enough having Chloe and Morris for parents.

Ooo... Blowfish 148! Deadly if not encrypted properly.

As Eddie Izzard has taught us, there's always a "backdoor."

Okay, this whole "Quinn's good" thing is a little ridiculous. A call goes out over the radio to send cops to Senator Mayer's house, and the nearest police station can't get people there before him?

CSI has taught me that what Jack is leaving is a trail of "gravitational blood drops."

Jack doesn't need a license to operate heavy machinery.

So, is it some kind of professional courtesy that a guy like Quinn tells Jack what he knows just because Jack killed him? Seriously, if the situation were somehow reversed, can you imagine Jack Bauer saying anything other than "go to hell!"?

Why does Quinn have any info on his cell phone about the weapons shipment? He's a hitman. How is he even in the loop on this other thing?

Looks like Tony might finally be seeing some action again next week. But for now, just three lines or so.

Home-Grown Movie

I hesitate to blog about a movie many of you reading this won't have any chance to see in the near future, but I've decided to go for it anyway. Last night, I saw Ink, a very small independent film made by a local Colorado filmmaker. The movie has yet to pick up a distributor, but is making the rounds at a few film festivals and is starting to get some notice. So who knows, maybe late this year it might be showing at the art house near you. In the meantime, if you're in the Denver area, you can take advantage of a limited run at the Starz FilmCenter at the Tivoli.

Ink is an unusual, fantastical tale somewhat in the mold of Dark City or Donnie Darko. It's the story of a hidden world co-existing with our own, in which two forces do battle against each other -- one responsible for bringing us dreams when we sleep, the other responsible for bringing us nightmares. An incubus looking to prove himself to the nightmare faction has been given a mission to abduct a little girl and deliver her for a sacrificial rite. Meanwhile, in the real world, that girl falls into a coma, as her estranged father becomes a focal point in the struggle between unseen forces as well.

Let me say that while I hope this film is picked up for wide distribution (and I believe it will be), I don't think it was a spectacular piece. The writing is a bit convoluted at times. The pace of the film occasionally drags, and the direction sometimes leaves it a bit unclear what is occuring in the real world and what is transpiring in the dream world (and not in a good way).

But the film does have more good points than bad. When the story is firing, it's very engaging. You do care for many of the characters, and the revelations of the final act are very strong.

But the single greatest thing I can praise about Ink is the look of the film. This movie was made on a budget in the neighborhood of "hey guys, wanna help me make a movie?" But it looks better than most multi-million dollar pictures coming out of Hollywood. The shadowy creatures that make up the nightmare army have a truly inspired and unsettling look to them. What visual effects the movie has are employed in specific and incredibly effective ways. Visually, this movie really is a work of art.

As it happens, Ink is not the first film from this Colorado director, and one of his earlier efforts, 11:59, is actually available on DVD now. So perhaps regardless of what happens as Ink runs the festival circuit in search of backers, you might one day get the chance to see it. If you're a fan of the visual side of filmmaking, you will definitely want to. I rate it a B-.

Network Notes

I recently watched Network, the 1976 movie that made "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take this anymore!" famous. One of the movies many people will say "you must see," I decided to cross it off the list.

The movie begins with a network news anchor being given two weeks' notice of losing his job. The next night, he blurts out on his broadcast that without his job he has nothing left to live for, and so he plans to kill himself live on an upcoming broadcast. The producers yank him off the air, but then reluctantly agree to allow him one final on-air editorial in which to apologize for the outburst. Instead, he rants and curses on the air... and stirs up big ratings, leading to an all new format in which he rails against society.

Some have lauded the movie as prescient, and indeed parts of it seem quaint and lose all context now, three decades later. Essentially, this news anchor character's ranting, which is supposed to seem so shocking and risque at the time, is exactly the sort of show that Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, or Keith Olbermann has today -- and there's little or nothing outrageous about it. How times have changed, right?

But there are still a few "jokes," if you will, about television gone too far that still play today. (Maybe not for much longer, though.) For example, as part of a subplot, a ball-busting producer played by Faye Dunaway champions a one-hour drama that opens every episode with footage shot by a domestic terrorist organization as they carry out one of their missions, then expanding into a "story behind the story" dramatized hour. We see television executives meeting to discuss the practicalities of such a program, and even handling contract negotiations with representatives of the terrorist group to get the footage they need.

The idea of the story still plays, and the acting is mostly good (though a bit over the top at times). But unfortunately, I still regard Network as a weak movie. The problem is that it doesn't stay focused on skewering television. Instead, the back half of the movie gets bogged down in a completely unnecessary subplot about a romance between the fired head of news and Faye Dunaway's executive character. It wouldn't even actually be fair to call it a "subplot"; the story actually takes over the film and dominates the final 45 minutes. And it lacks any trace of the satire or drama that the first chunk of the movie has.

Between the flaws I feel were baked in from day one, and the fact the movie really hasn't aged well, I can't give it more than a C-.

Daybreak, Part 1

Tonight was the beginning of the end, the first hour of the three-hour Battlestar Galactica finale (with the remaining two to follow next week). And it was very tough to know what to make of just this first piece without the rest to follow. Still, I'll give it a go.

So far, I must confess I'm a bit disappointed. Tonight's hour wasn't bad, but it was rather strange. My reaction mostly had to do with the flashbacks to Caprica, prior to the holocaust. Many of the scenes were neat for long time fans of the show to see and geek out over -- Starbuck's relationship with Zack Adama, for instance. Other scenes had strong emotion to them, like watching Laura have to clean up baby shower gifts for her now-dead sister.

But unforunately, what struck me more than any of that was the simple question: why? Why bother showing us this material now? Whatever dramatic content the scenes had was completely self-contained; the flashback material didn't appear to have any emotional resonance with events transpiring in the present. It was simply "here they were then; here they are now," with neither corrolation or contrast between the two being offered. I felt like all this material might have been better presented as a single episode called "Before the Fall," aired sometime far earlier in season four. Or perhaps as a separate movie like "Razor." But unless there's considerably more significance to this material coming in the last two hours, I really don't see what all of it is adding to the experience.

As for events in the present, everything was running up to what we'll see in a week's time. There were a few nice moments, but not really any fantastic ones. The sight of Adama's quarters all boxed up, Baltar's admission to Lee that "I wouldn't trust me either," a visibly shaky Roslin showing up on the hangar deck at the end of the hour. All nice, but Battlestar Galactica has given us better before. (Speaking of that hangar deck scene, I do have to give praise for staying true to the nature of the show. Not everyone volunteered for the resuce mission. Indeed, it seemed like barely one-third did. Hooray for playing the likely truth, rather than the gooey television moment... just as Galactica always does at its best.)

Still, it seems very possible to me -- even likely -- that tonight's hour will look better once seen in the context of the last two to which it is tied completely. So until then...

No News, Not Good News

So, the recent movement on the embezzlement case involving my former company was not the only occasion I've had recently to reflect on a former job. Just days ago, one of Denver's two major newspapers, the Rocky Mountain News, went out of business.

Those of you who know me even a little know what a night owl I am. It's practically unfathomable, but true -- I had a paper route for several years early in high school. I've even mentioned it once here, a bike route that eventually turned into a larger car route. I noted on the subject last time that bike routes had all surely been eliminated everywhere by now, making the job of "paper boy" extinct. Now, of course, news on the internet and television is putting newspapers out of business, so even newspaper delivery by adults is probably on a very short life span.

It's not really that I had any special connection to that first job. Hell, if anything, I spent years not getting enough sleep, not keeping the schedule that works best for me, and being an especially grumpy jerk throughout the day as a result. My quality of life improved notably the day I finally gave up that paper route.

Still, it's a little strange to see street corners in downtown Denver now, where the two papers used to sit side by side in vending machines; now the Rocky Mountain News machines have been ripped out, leaving little stains on the cement where they sat for years on end.