February 28, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Meager models strut and prowl. Gaze at them -- girls pretending to be women pretending to be girls. They are Squeals in High Heels.
"If I don't make it," says one, so slim, "I'm gonna have to start selling my body on the street." (She should consider eating more meat.)
The girls are preening for "America's Next Top Model." Their egoism deserves Simon Cowell. But their judge-y mentor, supermodel Tyra Banks, will do. She remains insightfully shallow and "Tyra-fying."
"I want you to be all you can be, not bitch all you can bitch," she instructs.
The girls might be too famished to obey her, except for the two "plus-size" models, who say their hefty ascension would make a "good statement." (Yeah, that'll happen, and the war will end someday, too.)
At first, there are 33 rivals. Then just 13, including two from Illinois. Week by week, another will fall. For photo shoots, they wear military camouflage, fake furs and real fruits. (A few girls are draped in birthday suits.)
Daddy issues, daddy issues. A plus-size model recalls her father-daughter bond. He used to tell her:
"Stop eating. You're not going to fit through the door."
A Skinny One tells "Model" judges, "I can deal with you up in my face yelling at me, because that's what my dad did." She's blond.
Some girls are fashion-dumb. They don't know who Carolina Herrera is, or Richard Avedon. One girl name-checks Audrey Hepburn: "I love her in 'Dinner at Tiffany's.' I'm sorry 'Lunch at ... Brunch at Tiffany's.' " Goodness gracious, the room for rent in her weave is spacious.
A crying girl oddly believes she doesn't pass the semifinals because she's not sassy. She weeps, "Personality means more than looks, apparently." (Don't you see, you Towering Tiny Thing, you're wrong; looks do rule, and it's largely luck anyhow, since height comes inherently.)
So if "America's Next Top Model" is ridiculous and mock-able, why is it so entertaining? Partly because of Schadenfreude (viewers find joy in contestants' idiotic misery).
But don't sell cattiness short as a selling point. Cattiness is amusing. Tyra's fashionista Jay Manuel meows, "Lesbians aren't serious ALL the time."
And the pictures the girls take make pretty art of hunger. (These doe-eyed Jane Does could hardly seem any younger.)
Manuel promises them the un-promise-able: "One of you is going to be a household name."
Famous like the previous winners? Adrianne Curry, Eva Pigford, Naima Mora, Nicole Linkletter, Danielle Evans, CariDee English and Yoanna House? Yeah, that's a real bullpen of Us Weekly divas.
Tyra ought to invite a shrink to the set, to see if the girls suffer from a light, mass case of folie a deux: a shared delusion. They're constantly talking about how they're all so much more beautiful and genuine than everyone else.
What they crave is validation for genetic bone structure and the willpower to diet and pose. That is so ludicrous, it makes every one of them a low-level sympathetic villain -- the perfect reality-TV construct.
"Just being here has already made, like, so many more of my hopes and dreams come true," a semifinalist beams.
Such is her dream -- for the world to respectfully ogle her while she wears strategically placed fruit on her ninnies and mimmy.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
'Crackdown' this
Crackdown" will look familiar to mainstream gamers. It was designed by David Jones, one of the co-creators of "Grand Theft Auto." Just like in the classic shoot-'em-ups of "GTA" titles, "Crackdown" compels you to navigate city streets and kill people.
Ah, but here's the rub. In "Crackdown," you are the good guy, rather than the vile, murderous scum of "GTA."
Specifically, you play as a futuristic cop. You wield the super powers to jump incredible distances (from building to building), to lift two-ton limos, and to regenerate after getting gunned down.
This marks a trend in pop culture: Antiheroes are on the skids. "Grand Theft Auto" is dusty; the stars of top sellers are earnest heroes, in "Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six: Vegas," "Battlestations: Midway," "Gears of War" and "Call of Duty 3."
Of course, age-old distinctions between good and bad are slightly blurred. In "Crackdown," you do indeed slay ruthless gangsters who blow away pedestrians willy-nilly in the streets. (It's beyond me why pedestrians roam the sidewalks, let alone live in this bloody locale.)
But good cop or not, you can't help but to accidentally drive over these dumb citizens you're trying to save. Honk your horn all you want. They will freeze in front of your hood and die.
Meanwhile, an off-screen narrator, your cop boss, eggs you on to end the lives of bad people preying on the weak.
"Remember," your boss says. "Skills for kills, agent. Skills for kills!"
All those gangsters and thugs for life -- and there are thousands of them, armed with rocket launchers and machine guns -- shoot at you while laughing and taunting, "Prepare to die," and "Why are you even breathin'?"
So many bullets whiz by, they even rain down from white, puffy clouds.
There are two drawbacks. Big gangster bosses must be defeated, which is fine and standard, but some are ensconced in unbearably confusing mazes. And online, you can play only a cooperative mode with other gamers; there's no player vs. player mode.
Still, "Crackdown" is a great, big, masterful beast. It could take dozens of hours for a gamer to finish exploring streets, evil men and women, and quirky extras.
"Crackdown" offers four cities. You don't just sprint and drive down realistic streets. You climb tall buildings of many styles and leap off 16-story structures without hurting your feet.
In one city, I scaled a random building and found a swimming pool on top with a rubber ducky floating in it. I shot the rubber ducky with a machine gun. It flew across the pool and splashed into the corner.
That is the immense level of detail creative people put into such games, simply so we can spend our spare time blowing up every little thing in the world, even when we are heroes.
("Crackdown" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 -- Plays addictive and fun; looks great; very challenging; rated "M" for blood, gore, intense violence, sexual themes, strong language and use of drugs. Four stars out of four.)
Ah, but here's the rub. In "Crackdown," you are the good guy, rather than the vile, murderous scum of "GTA."
Specifically, you play as a futuristic cop. You wield the super powers to jump incredible distances (from building to building), to lift two-ton limos, and to regenerate after getting gunned down.
This marks a trend in pop culture: Antiheroes are on the skids. "Grand Theft Auto" is dusty; the stars of top sellers are earnest heroes, in "Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six: Vegas," "Battlestations: Midway," "Gears of War" and "Call of Duty 3."
Of course, age-old distinctions between good and bad are slightly blurred. In "Crackdown," you do indeed slay ruthless gangsters who blow away pedestrians willy-nilly in the streets. (It's beyond me why pedestrians roam the sidewalks, let alone live in this bloody locale.)
But good cop or not, you can't help but to accidentally drive over these dumb citizens you're trying to save. Honk your horn all you want. They will freeze in front of your hood and die.
Meanwhile, an off-screen narrator, your cop boss, eggs you on to end the lives of bad people preying on the weak.
"Remember," your boss says. "Skills for kills, agent. Skills for kills!"
All those gangsters and thugs for life -- and there are thousands of them, armed with rocket launchers and machine guns -- shoot at you while laughing and taunting, "Prepare to die," and "Why are you even breathin'?"
So many bullets whiz by, they even rain down from white, puffy clouds.
There are two drawbacks. Big gangster bosses must be defeated, which is fine and standard, but some are ensconced in unbearably confusing mazes. And online, you can play only a cooperative mode with other gamers; there's no player vs. player mode.
Still, "Crackdown" is a great, big, masterful beast. It could take dozens of hours for a gamer to finish exploring streets, evil men and women, and quirky extras.
"Crackdown" offers four cities. You don't just sprint and drive down realistic streets. You climb tall buildings of many styles and leap off 16-story structures without hurting your feet.
In one city, I scaled a random building and found a swimming pool on top with a rubber ducky floating in it. I shot the rubber ducky with a machine gun. It flew across the pool and splashed into the corner.
That is the immense level of detail creative people put into such games, simply so we can spend our spare time blowing up every little thing in the world, even when we are heroes.
("Crackdown" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 -- Plays addictive and fun; looks great; very challenging; rated "M" for blood, gore, intense violence, sexual themes, strong language and use of drugs. Four stars out of four.)
Katrina and ... video games?
NEW ORLEANS -- Mom's house. This is where I told Nana I loved her before she died. It's where I celebrated my wedding to my future ex-wife.
I go home again and a FEMA trailer is sprawled out on the front yard. The trailer's plastic water pipes clutch like claws around the sides of the house on the mend.
A year and a half since Hurricane Katrina, thousands of homes remain crumbled, broken or burned. For generations, the city has buried its own in above-ground cemeteries to protect graves from floods. Now entire neighborhoods of houses look like above-ground cemeteries.
Mom's house is almost a home again. Although, the front outer wall still bears the spray paint of rescue workers: an "X," plus a number signifying how many bodies were found inside. (My family escaped.)
I flew to New Orleans to visit Mom; to take video games to my brother Brad's son, Kyle; and to heal my sister Teresa's Nintendo DS. Katrina ruined the handheld system's battery charger, along with Teresa's home and her daughter Jennifer's GameCube. And everything else they owned.
As it turns out, Brad bought Kyle, 7, a second PlayStation 2 and plugged it into the TV in his truck. Over the holidays, Brad and his love, Elaina, took Kyle for a road trip away from the madness. Kyle's backseat PS 2 kept him busy.
"We drove thousands of miles, and we didn't hear a word from Kyle. It was worth it," Brad said of the system's cost, around $120.
I've dogged the PS 2 for about a year, because it's slower and meeker than new systems. But I had a lot of fun playing Kyle's favorite games with him: "Sly 3: Honor Amongst Thieves," "IHRA Drag Racing" and "The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy." He beat me a few times.
"I won, fool!" he kept saying.
I can't say this enough: Playing games is a good distraction.
When Kyle and I walked outside, I thought this must be what happens in ghost towns after they get blown up in war games: rebuilding life around the dead and rotted while neighbors and strangers help each other. (Government home-rebuilding money still hasn't really come.)
One day, I hung out with Teresa and her boyfriend, Kevin, in the French Quarter. The area looks great and suffered relatively little.
Teresa (I got my sense of humor from her) tried to loosen me up local style at The Abbey, a pub where urns of dead customers sit on a mantle of shadows.
"You're in New Orleans. Ya gotta get fizzy," she said.
Teresa said it's a good thing tourists are oblivious to the destruction in her neighborhood, Gentilly.
"A lot of businesses have and will go under if tourists don't come and spend money," she said.
I eyed those out-of-towners snapping photos. I walked up Decatur Street and drowned my sorrows in café au lait and beignets at Café du Monde. I strode by a street performer tricking visitors with sleight of hand and stood at the cusp of Jackson Square.
From my iPod, Regina Spektor whispered sprightly into my ear: "The world is everlasting. It's coming. And it's going."
(PlayStation 2 -- It's less powerful than newer game systems, but it's still a fun and splashy system offering scores of great games for sale. It's also cheaper than the $400 Xbox 360, $250 Nintendo Wii and $600 PS 3. The PS 2 retails for $120. Three stars out of four.)
I go home again and a FEMA trailer is sprawled out on the front yard. The trailer's plastic water pipes clutch like claws around the sides of the house on the mend.
A year and a half since Hurricane Katrina, thousands of homes remain crumbled, broken or burned. For generations, the city has buried its own in above-ground cemeteries to protect graves from floods. Now entire neighborhoods of houses look like above-ground cemeteries.
Mom's house is almost a home again. Although, the front outer wall still bears the spray paint of rescue workers: an "X," plus a number signifying how many bodies were found inside. (My family escaped.)
I flew to New Orleans to visit Mom; to take video games to my brother Brad's son, Kyle; and to heal my sister Teresa's Nintendo DS. Katrina ruined the handheld system's battery charger, along with Teresa's home and her daughter Jennifer's GameCube. And everything else they owned.
As it turns out, Brad bought Kyle, 7, a second PlayStation 2 and plugged it into the TV in his truck. Over the holidays, Brad and his love, Elaina, took Kyle for a road trip away from the madness. Kyle's backseat PS 2 kept him busy.
"We drove thousands of miles, and we didn't hear a word from Kyle. It was worth it," Brad said of the system's cost, around $120.
I've dogged the PS 2 for about a year, because it's slower and meeker than new systems. But I had a lot of fun playing Kyle's favorite games with him: "Sly 3: Honor Amongst Thieves," "IHRA Drag Racing" and "The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy." He beat me a few times.
"I won, fool!" he kept saying.
I can't say this enough: Playing games is a good distraction.
When Kyle and I walked outside, I thought this must be what happens in ghost towns after they get blown up in war games: rebuilding life around the dead and rotted while neighbors and strangers help each other. (Government home-rebuilding money still hasn't really come.)
One day, I hung out with Teresa and her boyfriend, Kevin, in the French Quarter. The area looks great and suffered relatively little.
Teresa (I got my sense of humor from her) tried to loosen me up local style at The Abbey, a pub where urns of dead customers sit on a mantle of shadows.
"You're in New Orleans. Ya gotta get fizzy," she said.
Teresa said it's a good thing tourists are oblivious to the destruction in her neighborhood, Gentilly.
"A lot of businesses have and will go under if tourists don't come and spend money," she said.
I eyed those out-of-towners snapping photos. I walked up Decatur Street and drowned my sorrows in café au lait and beignets at Café du Monde. I strode by a street performer tricking visitors with sleight of hand and stood at the cusp of Jackson Square.
From my iPod, Regina Spektor whispered sprightly into my ear: "The world is everlasting. It's coming. And it's going."
(PlayStation 2 -- It's less powerful than newer game systems, but it's still a fun and splashy system offering scores of great games for sale. It's also cheaper than the $400 Xbox 360, $250 Nintendo Wii and $600 PS 3. The PS 2 retails for $120. Three stars out of four.)
'Smarter' celebrates our dumbing-down
February 27, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
A new quiz show on Fox sets out to prove America is a nation of idiots. (The TV says we're stupid. It must be right.)
The show is "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" The host is Jeff Foxworthy, the "You might be a redneck if ..." comic. Is this a perfect union of show and host? Viewers will find out when it debuts tonight.
The gist of the game is, adults and fifth-graders try to answer questions taken from elementary school textbooks. Foxworthy says adults miss a lot of questions the five child panelists get right. And the adults have to crib from the children to get through tougher questions.
"They get to cheat off of the kids. And it's so funny to see a 45-year-old guy go, 'Can I look at her paper?' " Foxworthy says. "You're saying, 'You do understand she's 10 years old. If the ice cream truck goes by, she's leavin'. This is the person you're banking on.' "
A UCLA history professor misses an elementary history question; a kid gets it right. Another contestant struggles to remember whose image is on the dime.
"We're not deliberately bringing in stupid people," Foxworthy says. "They are all over the place. That's why I have a job as a comedian."
Foxworthy enjoys toying with contestants, like the woman who gets stumped to define "antonym."
"She said, 'Can you use it in a sentence?' And I said, 'Yeah, my aunt and 'em came over for Thanksgiving dinner.' "
Foxworthy claims the fifth-graders aren't ringers brought in to stump adults. These aren't "Mensa kids or some brainiacs," he says. "They're just above-average fifth-graders.
I ask Foxworthy: What does it say about America that we're facing supposedly imperiled times of wars and fear as a nation of idiots who can't beat fifth-graders?
"It may not be confidence inspiring," he jokes. His serious answer is, "It's not really that we're idiots.
"What it boils down to is these kids have seen this [textbook material] recently, and the adults haven't."
Foxworthy, 48, says parents could fare better than childless contestants. He says he knows the answers to about 40 percent to 50 percent of the questions because he's helped one of his two daughters memorize state capitals. He's worse at defining pronoun, suffix and other grammatical learnin'.
"I knew it at one point in my life, but that file has been deleted. The theme to 'The Brady Bunch' is still in there, but the prepositions are gone," he says.
Foxworthy was a contestant on celebrity "Jeopardy!" once. He did poorly on the show, even though he would do fine at home watching "Jeopardy!" on TV. Pressure did him in, just like it clips "5th Grader" contestants.
"You know the old [expression]," he says. "It's better for people to think you're an idiot rather than for you to open your mouth and prove them right. That's what happens when you get those lights in your eyes and that buzzer in your hands."
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
A new quiz show on Fox sets out to prove America is a nation of idiots. (The TV says we're stupid. It must be right.)
The show is "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" The host is Jeff Foxworthy, the "You might be a redneck if ..." comic. Is this a perfect union of show and host? Viewers will find out when it debuts tonight.
The gist of the game is, adults and fifth-graders try to answer questions taken from elementary school textbooks. Foxworthy says adults miss a lot of questions the five child panelists get right. And the adults have to crib from the children to get through tougher questions.
"They get to cheat off of the kids. And it's so funny to see a 45-year-old guy go, 'Can I look at her paper?' " Foxworthy says. "You're saying, 'You do understand she's 10 years old. If the ice cream truck goes by, she's leavin'. This is the person you're banking on.' "
A UCLA history professor misses an elementary history question; a kid gets it right. Another contestant struggles to remember whose image is on the dime.
"We're not deliberately bringing in stupid people," Foxworthy says. "They are all over the place. That's why I have a job as a comedian."
Foxworthy enjoys toying with contestants, like the woman who gets stumped to define "antonym."
"She said, 'Can you use it in a sentence?' And I said, 'Yeah, my aunt and 'em came over for Thanksgiving dinner.' "
Foxworthy claims the fifth-graders aren't ringers brought in to stump adults. These aren't "Mensa kids or some brainiacs," he says. "They're just above-average fifth-graders.
I ask Foxworthy: What does it say about America that we're facing supposedly imperiled times of wars and fear as a nation of idiots who can't beat fifth-graders?
"It may not be confidence inspiring," he jokes. His serious answer is, "It's not really that we're idiots.
"What it boils down to is these kids have seen this [textbook material] recently, and the adults haven't."
Foxworthy, 48, says parents could fare better than childless contestants. He says he knows the answers to about 40 percent to 50 percent of the questions because he's helped one of his two daughters memorize state capitals. He's worse at defining pronoun, suffix and other grammatical learnin'.
"I knew it at one point in my life, but that file has been deleted. The theme to 'The Brady Bunch' is still in there, but the prepositions are gone," he says.
Foxworthy was a contestant on celebrity "Jeopardy!" once. He did poorly on the show, even though he would do fine at home watching "Jeopardy!" on TV. Pressure did him in, just like it clips "5th Grader" contestants.
"You know the old [expression]," he says. "It's better for people to think you're an idiot rather than for you to open your mouth and prove them right. That's what happens when you get those lights in your eyes and that buzzer in your hands."
Monday, February 26, 2007
Oscar night
February 26, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
The Oscars wouldn't be the Oscars if they weren't a big liberal fest of feel-good backslapping. Not only was Al Gore the star of the best documentary winner, but Leonardo DiCaprio asked Gore onstage if he would run for president in 2008.
"I'm just here for the movies, Leo," Gore said seriously.
But then DiCaprio pressed Gore, and Gore taunted the crowd.
"You've been very convincing," Gore said. "So my fellow Americans, I'm going formally announce my intentions to ..." And then that Oscar speech-interrupting music chimed in to cut the Gore joke short.
It was a fine little broadcast of a typical Oscars tone (snooty/trying not to seem so). Maybe it was because 2006 was a mediocre film year, but the Academy glammed up the broadcast with Gore gags and music interludes. Other highlights and lowlights:
THE HOST: Ellen DeGeneres' best line was liberal, the one about people named Oscar. But it was also funny when she said her dream was always to host the Oscars, not to win an Oscar.
"Let that be a lesson to you kids out there: Aim lower."
GOOD SINGING AT THE OSCARS? Yes. Three comic actors -- Chicago native John C. Reilly, funny Will Ferrell and normally overrated Jack Black -- sang a tune about how comedian-actors don't get respect.
Ferrell: "I guess you don't like laughter and a smile brings you down/A comedian at the Oscars is the saddest, bitterest, alcoholic clown."
The final chorus: "So Anthony Hopkins, you can laugh/But someday, you'll see/Helen Mirren and an Oscar will be comin' home with me."
CUTEST COUPLE: Maybe "Little Miss Sunshine's" Abigail Breslin, 10, and Will Smith's son Jaden, 8, should have been co-hosts. They announced two awards for short films (Abigail and Jaden are short, ha ha). And they were more relaxed and composed than just about anyone else, including DeGeneres, but then anxiety is part of Ellen's shtick.
BAD START: The opening sequence was a well-meaning mess. In a prerecorded bit, nominees talked about what it has been like to win and lose in the past. But ABC didn't flash up names of these nominees. We all know what Eddie Murphy looks like, but who were these other losers?
MY FAVORITE WINNER: Alan Arkin for best supporting actor. I've loved Arkin's fatherly, funny work ever since I was barely older than a zygote and saw him in 1974's "Freebie and the Bean." How weird that such a forgotten comedy is one of my oldest movie memories, but it's because of Arkin.
I was so happy after seeing him in "Freebie," I went skipping through the rain with my friend Roxanne.
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
The Oscars wouldn't be the Oscars if they weren't a big liberal fest of feel-good backslapping. Not only was Al Gore the star of the best documentary winner, but Leonardo DiCaprio asked Gore onstage if he would run for president in 2008.
"I'm just here for the movies, Leo," Gore said seriously.
But then DiCaprio pressed Gore, and Gore taunted the crowd.
"You've been very convincing," Gore said. "So my fellow Americans, I'm going formally announce my intentions to ..." And then that Oscar speech-interrupting music chimed in to cut the Gore joke short.
It was a fine little broadcast of a typical Oscars tone (snooty/trying not to seem so). Maybe it was because 2006 was a mediocre film year, but the Academy glammed up the broadcast with Gore gags and music interludes. Other highlights and lowlights:
THE HOST: Ellen DeGeneres' best line was liberal, the one about people named Oscar. But it was also funny when she said her dream was always to host the Oscars, not to win an Oscar.
"Let that be a lesson to you kids out there: Aim lower."
GOOD SINGING AT THE OSCARS? Yes. Three comic actors -- Chicago native John C. Reilly, funny Will Ferrell and normally overrated Jack Black -- sang a tune about how comedian-actors don't get respect.
Ferrell: "I guess you don't like laughter and a smile brings you down/A comedian at the Oscars is the saddest, bitterest, alcoholic clown."
The final chorus: "So Anthony Hopkins, you can laugh/But someday, you'll see/Helen Mirren and an Oscar will be comin' home with me."
CUTEST COUPLE: Maybe "Little Miss Sunshine's" Abigail Breslin, 10, and Will Smith's son Jaden, 8, should have been co-hosts. They announced two awards for short films (Abigail and Jaden are short, ha ha). And they were more relaxed and composed than just about anyone else, including DeGeneres, but then anxiety is part of Ellen's shtick.
BAD START: The opening sequence was a well-meaning mess. In a prerecorded bit, nominees talked about what it has been like to win and lose in the past. But ABC didn't flash up names of these nominees. We all know what Eddie Murphy looks like, but who were these other losers?
MY FAVORITE WINNER: Alan Arkin for best supporting actor. I've loved Arkin's fatherly, funny work ever since I was barely older than a zygote and saw him in 1974's "Freebie and the Bean." How weird that such a forgotten comedy is one of my oldest movie memories, but it's because of Arkin.
I was so happy after seeing him in "Freebie," I went skipping through the rain with my friend Roxanne.
TV characters who should be in jail
February 25, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
I occasionally view TV characters as a prosecutor might, probably because I started in journalism as a cops and courts reporter. The other week on "Veronica Mars," Veronica hired a friend to steal and crush the car of a female rival. Bad Veronica!
All I could think was, "Veronica, that's a criminal enterprise. You're gonna get yourself in unnecessary trouble."
Veronica changed her mind (after it was stolen, before it was crushed). Still, the possibility that "Veronica's" main character (a well-meaning private investigator) could join the ranks of the criminal minds on TV got me thinking: There are a lot of main characters on TV who should be in prison.
In some shows, like "The Sopranos," they're half-glorified, half-vilified (the stuff of anti-heroes). In others, criminals are just absurd (like Homer Simpson). But in some, particularly "The Shield" and the awesome "Dexter," murderers are posed as likable protagonists.
More good-guy bad guys are coming soon. Starting Monday, NBC's "The Black Donnellys" follows the chipper but dark lives of young guys in a murderous organized crime group. They deserve to be in prison instead of carousing on the streets of New York. And "The Riches," a good show starting March 12 on FX, stars Minnie Driver and Eddie Izzard as grifters raising their kids in the house of a dead couple. Identity thieves!
So, herewith, are other TV heroes I think Jack McCoy could prosecute in upcoming episodes of "Law & Order: TV Criminals."
'Heroes'
(8 p.m. Mondays, NBC)
Claire's dad, the one with the horn-rimmed eyeglasses (producers call him "HRG"), has at the very least falsely imprisoned Sylar, the evil guy. Granted, cops wouldn't know what to do with Sylar's superpowerful ways. But still, this is felonious. Also, Nikki is a killer. She did turn herself in, but the cops let her out.
'The Sopranos'
(Returning April 8 to HBO)
Almost every character is a murderer, a mobster or an accomplice to something untoward. The series wraps with nine upcoming episodes. Tony should end up behind bars, as should just about everyone else.
'Prison Break'
(7 p.m. Mondays, Fox)
All the fugitives on the run should by law go back to jail, including brothers Michael and Lincoln. They're the good guys, yes, but Michael really did hold up a bank (regardless of good intentions), and they both broke out of prison, which is not legal.
'The Shield'
(Returning April 3 on FX)
The main characters are bad cops who kill suspects vigilante-style and who have even killed cops. They are not nice people -- nor law-abiding.
'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia'
(Returning on FX this summer)
On this absurd comedy, characters have used crack cocaine and torched a guy's business. Actually, the torchers were busted and put on probation. So it takes TV's crassest (and one of its funniest) series to exhibit criminal consequences.
'The Knights of Prosperity'
(7:30 p.m. Wednesdays, ABC)
The gang is conspiring to rob Mick Jagger's apartment. They've already broken into and entered Mick's office building, among other things. Crime shouldn't pay. Mick earned that apartment!
'Lost'
(9 p.m. Wednesdays, ABC)
Several characters have shot and killed others on bizarro "Gilligan's Island." There's been blackmail and false imprisonment, among many other offenses. They're lucky there's no police department on their deserted isle.
'Shark'
(9 p.m. Thursdays, CBS)
James Woods' lawyer character has used unsavory and perhaps illegal methods in court, certainly back when he was a defense attorney, and possibly now that he's a prosecutor. Just because Shark puts away felons doesn't mean he's not one himself.
'My Name Is Earl'
(7 p.m. Thursdays, NBC)
Sure, Earl, Randy and Joy are mostly upstanding citizens now, but they used to break laws weekly (if not daily). Once Earl finishes making amends to his prior victims (the reason for the show), he should turn himself in.
'ER'
(9:01 p.m. Thursdays, NBC)
At the very least, nurse Samantha Taggart should get locked up for shooting her ex-husband to death. OK, fine, I was rooting for her to kill him. He raped her after kidnapping her and her kid. But legally, she should have continued to escape (she was home free) instead of doubling back to kill him while he slept.
'Desperate Housewives'
(8 p.m. Sundays, ABC)
Bree's son Andrew vehicular-homicided Carlos' mom. Edie set fire to Susan's house. And Bree's hubby Orson tried to hit-and-run Mike to death. The sequel can be called "Desperado Housewives."
'The Simpsons'
(7 p.m. Sundays, Fox)
Homer has broken so many laws, it's hard to keep count. For starters, he's vandalized a school, stolen half of Ned Flanders' possessions and caused a nuclear meltdown. A judge should order him to a lifetime of rehab and community service.
'Family Guy'
(8 p.m. Sundays, Fox)
One-year-old Stewie has shot his dog Brian in the foot to try to get out of the Army, shot down children flying helicopters, operated as a loan shark, attempted to murder his mother, tried to blow up the world and engaged in many other nefarious plans. He could plead to being an insane genius in juvenile court.
'South Park'
(New episodes on Comedy Central in spring)
The little rascals have committed a series of petty thefts and conspiracies, not to mention Cartman's various financial plots to trick people out of money. Delinquents.
'Hustle'
(Returning to AMC on April 18)
It's about a gang of con artists. Next.
'Big Love'
(Returning to HBO this summer)
A guy married to three women. That's called polygamy, a crime even in Utah.
'Weeds'
(Returning to Showtime this summer)
Nancy is a single mom ... and a dope dealer! She'd better throw herself at the mercy of the court someday.
'The Wire'
(Returning to HBO later this year)
Kids deal drugs, and they're killers and thieves. Who shouldn't go to jail from this bunch?
'Dexter'
(Returning to Showtime later this year)
Dexter is a serial killer. The prosecution rests.
delfman@suntimes.com
Monday, Bloody Monday
February 23, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
I imagine the Hollywood pitch for "The Black Donnellys" went like this: "It's a fast-paced 'Sopranos' starring a Clearasil-young cast, and people die constantly." That doesn't sound tasty, but this stew is fresher and pinker than your usual mobster meat.
What is it with the traditions of the media-made mafia, anyway? Theirs is a world without Wal-Mart. Everything's family owned. Bars. Diners. Neuroses. Psychoses. Grief, guilt, glory.
The Donnellys are weighed by all that. They're four twentysomething brothers growing up brownstone in Hell's Kitchen, New York. They are not black but black Irish. They run a bar where the window glints green from a neon four-leaf clover.
They also kidnap people and chop them to chunks of red. They're no nicer than the dystopian punks of "A Clockwork Orange." They just don't dress as cool.
Like a musical boy band of yore, there's the leader, the good-looking one, the disturbed one and the slacker. These Irish kids get in trouble fast with Italian mobsters, then the show is off and running as a panoply of purple bruisings.
The second episode concerns getting rid of a body. This entails conversations about how to dispose of the corpse. (Bathtub of acid? Dump it in a landfill?)
Then, one Donnelly brother strips to his Marky Marks so he can, with his six-pack of abs (rippling), smash the dead man's body parts to a pulp with a blood-splattering sledgehammer; in the background, the music score pulses a nifty, contemporary lounge vibe.
Yes, it's half-glamorization of violence and half-judgmentalism, just like in "The Sopranos."
The co-creators of this white-hot heat are Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco. Together and individually, they produced, wrote or directed "Crash," the 2004 best picture winner/after-school special, and "Million Dollar Baby," the Oscar-winning bore.
Given free rein to make TV (notably on NBC, lowly rated and willing to take chances), Haggis and Moresco toy with a freer style. It's a cinematic swirl of novelistic time warps and despicable characters. Can they keep it up?
The whole show is a series of flashbacks narrated by Joey, a friend of the Donnellys. He is telling these stories from jail as a sort of hyperactive yellow canary, chirping to cops and cellmates.
Joey is erratic and self-aggrandizing. Thus, storylines are confusing at times. Unlike the pop cops at the Conveyor Belt System (CBS), the Donnellys give you no time to stroll from the TV and miss scenes. Miss a minute, miss a lot.
These tall tales flow into a stream of consciousness. That's good. The acting is convincing. That's good. The Irish stuff is heavy-handed. That's bad.
The third episode begins with a screen quote by Daniel Patrick Moynihan: "To be Irish is to know that in the end the world will break your heart."
I thought to feel blue from being beat down was to be Jewish, black or, really, any heritage, but whatever. The Irish are always presented like this -- doomy, gloomy yet sprightly and crooked-smiley from hops and barley. (If I were aggressively Irish, I'd sue that little Notre Dame gremlin mascot for merrily perpetuating stupid fists and a nerd beard.)
In the first episode, Joey narrates: "The Irish have always been victims of a negative stereotype. I mean, people think we're all drunks and brawlers -- and sometimes that gets you so mad, all you want to is get drunk and punch somebody."
Right. Crazy murderous Irish drunks bound together by spite and passion. That's not a promising Hollywood pitch, either, but Haggis and Moresco make it work through sheer will power and storytelling skills, just like any scrappy Irishman would.
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
I imagine the Hollywood pitch for "The Black Donnellys" went like this: "It's a fast-paced 'Sopranos' starring a Clearasil-young cast, and people die constantly." That doesn't sound tasty, but this stew is fresher and pinker than your usual mobster meat.
What is it with the traditions of the media-made mafia, anyway? Theirs is a world without Wal-Mart. Everything's family owned. Bars. Diners. Neuroses. Psychoses. Grief, guilt, glory.
The Donnellys are weighed by all that. They're four twentysomething brothers growing up brownstone in Hell's Kitchen, New York. They are not black but black Irish. They run a bar where the window glints green from a neon four-leaf clover.
They also kidnap people and chop them to chunks of red. They're no nicer than the dystopian punks of "A Clockwork Orange." They just don't dress as cool.
Like a musical boy band of yore, there's the leader, the good-looking one, the disturbed one and the slacker. These Irish kids get in trouble fast with Italian mobsters, then the show is off and running as a panoply of purple bruisings.
The second episode concerns getting rid of a body. This entails conversations about how to dispose of the corpse. (Bathtub of acid? Dump it in a landfill?)
Then, one Donnelly brother strips to his Marky Marks so he can, with his six-pack of abs (rippling), smash the dead man's body parts to a pulp with a blood-splattering sledgehammer; in the background, the music score pulses a nifty, contemporary lounge vibe.
Yes, it's half-glamorization of violence and half-judgmentalism, just like in "The Sopranos."
The co-creators of this white-hot heat are Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco. Together and individually, they produced, wrote or directed "Crash," the 2004 best picture winner/after-school special, and "Million Dollar Baby," the Oscar-winning bore.
Given free rein to make TV (notably on NBC, lowly rated and willing to take chances), Haggis and Moresco toy with a freer style. It's a cinematic swirl of novelistic time warps and despicable characters. Can they keep it up?
The whole show is a series of flashbacks narrated by Joey, a friend of the Donnellys. He is telling these stories from jail as a sort of hyperactive yellow canary, chirping to cops and cellmates.
Joey is erratic and self-aggrandizing. Thus, storylines are confusing at times. Unlike the pop cops at the Conveyor Belt System (CBS), the Donnellys give you no time to stroll from the TV and miss scenes. Miss a minute, miss a lot.
These tall tales flow into a stream of consciousness. That's good. The acting is convincing. That's good. The Irish stuff is heavy-handed. That's bad.
The third episode begins with a screen quote by Daniel Patrick Moynihan: "To be Irish is to know that in the end the world will break your heart."
I thought to feel blue from being beat down was to be Jewish, black or, really, any heritage, but whatever. The Irish are always presented like this -- doomy, gloomy yet sprightly and crooked-smiley from hops and barley. (If I were aggressively Irish, I'd sue that little Notre Dame gremlin mascot for merrily perpetuating stupid fists and a nerd beard.)
In the first episode, Joey narrates: "The Irish have always been victims of a negative stereotype. I mean, people think we're all drunks and brawlers -- and sometimes that gets you so mad, all you want to is get drunk and punch somebody."
Right. Crazy murderous Irish drunks bound together by spite and passion. That's not a promising Hollywood pitch, either, but Haggis and Moresco make it work through sheer will power and storytelling skills, just like any scrappy Irishman would.
'Jericho' less hokey, still hacky
February 20, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Sarah is privy to serious intel. She looks at a list of cities scheduled to be destroyed by nuclear bombs. Philadelphia. Denver. Chicago. There are others, but this is the glimpse she gets during this week's "Jericho," which isn't as hokey as it usually is.
It's a flashback episode where we see what everyone was up to before America got pulverized. If you haven't set aside time to watch "Jericho," who can blame you? It's reminiscent of the mentally challenged, 1984 scare film "Red Dawn."
The difference is "Red Dawn" fictionalized a town reacting to a Cold War invasion by the Soviets, while the bad guys of "Jericho" are terrorists or some other mysterious, nefarious villains.
Wednesday's installment, the first new one since November, is better than others, because the storytelling is tighter dramatically. Sarah is a new character. She is dating ... well, I won't spoil fans' surprise.
But suffice it to say, there is at least one scene where we see children playing innocently in the streets just hours before they get nuked. Someone, please! Save the children!
I have kind of, sort of detested the show when I've tuned in before. The series can seem like a paranoid delusion about nuke survivors in Hayseed, Kan., issuing platitudes about love and community and watch-out-he's-got-a-gun scenarios.
Apparently, lots of viewers want to be scared and cuddled, though, since "Jericho" has outlasted many other new dramas this year.
"Jericho" offers its fans an unlikely combo of:
• Present-age fearmongering (terrorists are out to get us).
• Old-fashioned TV elements (budding romances, two-dimensional hero-victims, paint-by-numbers dialogue).
• And intrigue. (Who's behind the bombs?)
I might be fine with "Jericho" if it weren't for the hacky lines. "These are the faces of the men who will change the world." "Innocent people died, Freddy. Innocent people. I see it every time I close my eyes, which isn't too often these days." "I have a bad feeling about all this."
Who talks like that? I suppose you could argue this is the discourse of the desperate trapped in traumatic situations. Maybe I'd say phrases like these if, like the characters in this flashback episode, I attended a sleeper cell or got beat up by covert soldier types.
It's definitely the economical language of old-school TV fiction, which may appeal to people who prefer traditional TV.
Conversely, it may turn off people who are fed up with overcooked TV tropes and turn instead to series featuring the style and language of youth, such as "30 Rock" and the grittier "Veronica Mars."
Here's my test. In "Jericho" on Wednesday, a guy swears "on a stack of chili dogs." He's being earnest. If Veronica Mars swore on a stack of chili dogs, it would be an ironic snark, making fun of the guy on "Jericho."
Which kind of chili-dog experience would you prefer?
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Sarah is privy to serious intel. She looks at a list of cities scheduled to be destroyed by nuclear bombs. Philadelphia. Denver. Chicago. There are others, but this is the glimpse she gets during this week's "Jericho," which isn't as hokey as it usually is.
It's a flashback episode where we see what everyone was up to before America got pulverized. If you haven't set aside time to watch "Jericho," who can blame you? It's reminiscent of the mentally challenged, 1984 scare film "Red Dawn."
The difference is "Red Dawn" fictionalized a town reacting to a Cold War invasion by the Soviets, while the bad guys of "Jericho" are terrorists or some other mysterious, nefarious villains.
Wednesday's installment, the first new one since November, is better than others, because the storytelling is tighter dramatically. Sarah is a new character. She is dating ... well, I won't spoil fans' surprise.
But suffice it to say, there is at least one scene where we see children playing innocently in the streets just hours before they get nuked. Someone, please! Save the children!
I have kind of, sort of detested the show when I've tuned in before. The series can seem like a paranoid delusion about nuke survivors in Hayseed, Kan., issuing platitudes about love and community and watch-out-he's-got-a-gun scenarios.
Apparently, lots of viewers want to be scared and cuddled, though, since "Jericho" has outlasted many other new dramas this year.
"Jericho" offers its fans an unlikely combo of:
• Present-age fearmongering (terrorists are out to get us).
• Old-fashioned TV elements (budding romances, two-dimensional hero-victims, paint-by-numbers dialogue).
• And intrigue. (Who's behind the bombs?)
I might be fine with "Jericho" if it weren't for the hacky lines. "These are the faces of the men who will change the world." "Innocent people died, Freddy. Innocent people. I see it every time I close my eyes, which isn't too often these days." "I have a bad feeling about all this."
Who talks like that? I suppose you could argue this is the discourse of the desperate trapped in traumatic situations. Maybe I'd say phrases like these if, like the characters in this flashback episode, I attended a sleeper cell or got beat up by covert soldier types.
It's definitely the economical language of old-school TV fiction, which may appeal to people who prefer traditional TV.
Conversely, it may turn off people who are fed up with overcooked TV tropes and turn instead to series featuring the style and language of youth, such as "30 Rock" and the grittier "Veronica Mars."
Here's my test. In "Jericho" on Wednesday, a guy swears "on a stack of chili dogs." He's being earnest. If Veronica Mars swore on a stack of chili dogs, it would be an ironic snark, making fun of the guy on "Jericho."
Which kind of chili-dog experience would you prefer?
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Brilliant artist
His name is Ray Caesar, and he's amazing, and I stumbled on his work through:
http://jonathanlevinegallery.com/?method=Exhibit.ExhibitDescriptionCurrent
But his work is also obviously at raycaesar.com.
Just look at this sumptuousness.
The end of 'Studio 60'
February 18, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Of all the TV shows that debuted in the fall, "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" was the best bet to be a critics' darling and a hit. It was created by the makers of "The West Wing." Surely enough "West Wing" fans would give it the ratings to stay on the air.
But more viewers abandon it every week, and after Monday's episode NBC is sending it on indefinite hiatus.
What went wrong with "Studio 60"? The sex, the lack of sex, and the long and drawn-out relationships between potential couples are what's killing this show.
Despite the "West Wing" credentials of lead writer Aaron Sorkin and director Thomas Schlamme, "Studio 60" has been drawing the most typical kinds of TV couple conflicts.
A few weeks ago, two characters -- Matt (Matthew Perry) and Harriet (Sarah Paulson) -- were going through their 14th episode of trying to mend a broken romantic relationship. But Harriet kept finding artificial reasons to stay angry with Matt.
The show introduced a secondary, unrequited relationship between Jordan (Amanda Peet) and Danny (Bradley Whitford). They hooked up two weeks ago, but only after they got stuck on the roof of the "Studio 60" building for two episodes -- two! -- while another story line took two episodes -- two! -- to deal with a loose snake in the building.
If those two relationships haven't been belabored enough, a third was started between a guy who lied about having to cancel a date with a woman. He didn't have to lie; he canceled because of a work obligation. This caused severely idiotic arguments between him and her.
It doesn't help "Studio 60" that's it's an unfunny drama about the inner workings of a a TV sketch-comedy show akin to "Saturday Night Live."
D.L. Hughley, a comedian and actor who plays a sketch performer on the show, says working with "Studio's" happy cast is a joy. But he acknowledges the show's seriousness may puzzle potential viewers.
"When you say 'drama,' it automatically has a connotation that it's gonna be heavy," he says. "We're doing a show about comedy. That confuses people.
"What I like about '30 Rock' [the NBC comedy about an "SNL"-type show] is it's just a whimsical, fun thing people respond to."
Last week, "30 Rock" star Tina Fey took a jab at "Studio 60," comparing it to the outfit she wore at the Writers Guild Awards. "I hear Aaron Sorkin is in Los Angeles," she said, "wearing the same dress -- but longer, and not funny."
Hughley says if "Studio 60" survives, it will do so by ignoring expectations of contradictory critics -- some named it a top show of 2006; Entertainment Weekly named it the worst of the year.
"I became a funnier comic when I stopped believing [audience members] had to laugh," Hughley says. "It's gonna be incumbent upon us to do a show we believe in, and take off all the expectations and all the extra bull----, and do what we think is great."
It must be frustrating for the actors to be in this situation, working for the esteemed Sorkin on a show that should be better and better-watched. (Although it is getting better; last week's couples-centric episode was the season's best.)
Peet portrays a network TV executive, with a likable intensity, and she credits Sorkin for making her character real-ish.
"He's so good at avoiding cliches," Peet says. "Every time you think she's going to be the power woman, or the bitchy femme fatale ... it never [goes that way]. Whenever it leans that way," he bends in a different direction.
"If I could stay with Aaron Sorkin for the rest of my days, I'd be a happy camper," Peet says.
But odds are low "Studio 60" will weather a hiatus. Starting Feb. 26, NBC will fill the 9 p.m. Monday slot with "The Black Donnellys," another critically notable series.
delfman@suntimes.com
THE IMPRESSIONIST
It was partly by default that Sarah Paulson earned the "Studio 60" part of Harriet Hayes, the Christian-centric sketch comedian. At tryouts, the candidates were supposed to do impressions, but "none of the other actresses did it," Paulson says.
"I took out my bobby pins and started to imitate Juliette Lewis in my audition. And I could see them sort of recoil in their chairs after I took out a prop, [as if] they thought, 'Oh gosh, she's gonna do an impression of her Aunt Fern. ... That's not gonna be funny.'"
Paulson, 32, is the surprise standout in NBC's non-hit. She was nominated for best supporting actress at this year's Golden Globes.
At a moment's notice, Paulson can pretend-voice Juliette Lewis, Annette Bening, Julia Roberts and a dolphin, among others.
"I do a lot of women. I don't do a lot of men," she says.
What makes Paulson's work special isn't just mimicry skills, but her human portrayal of Harriett as a strong-willed woman who is no stereotype. Despite a part that's not always well written, she's kept relationship-conflicted Harriett spiritually likable, and neither whiny nor overbearing.
"People are interested in seeing a Christian woman who can have a martini and talk about premarital sex. She doesn't think she's going to hell," Paulson says. (This is acting for Paulson: "I'm not religious, but I'm not not-religious. I don't go to church.")
THEY WERE BALLYHOOED, THEN BOMBED
The bigger they are, they faster they fall. "Studio 60" isn't the first TV show to start out with critical acclaim or network hype only to fall quickly by the wayside. Here's a recent look back at a few other huge losers:
Just this fall, CBS' "Smith" starred Ray Liotta, Virginia Madsen, Simon Baker and Amy Smart in a series whose first episode felt like a riveting, character-based action movie about thieves. But it quickly started to go downhill. It couldn't retain viewers and it was axed in a few short weeks.
"Commander in Chief" was the "Studio 60" of 2005. With Geena Davis starring as the U.S. president and Donald Sutherland portraying a crafty Republican senator, the drama took off like a rocket, critically and popularly. Davis won an Emmy, even. But viewers dropped off en masse after ABC forced out creator Rod Lurie for delivering scripts late. Replacement producer Steven Bochco ruined the feel of the series, and it was dead within the first season.
Fox's "Wonderfalls" was compared favorably to CBS' "Joan of Arcadia," which managed to last two seasons. It was about a young woman who helped people after talking with animated objects, like stuffed bears. Fox dumped it after a few weeks, despite a fan-generated save-"Wonderfalls" campaign.
In 2003, "Skin" offered Ron Silver as a porn producer in this soapy "Romeo and Juliet" drama in the vein of "The O.C." A few critics liked its sleek focus on porn and politics, but after much advertising, Fox pulled the plug after less than handful of installments.
"The Fugitive" of 2000 was fast-paced, patterned like the movie and not like the '60s series. The CBS drama starred Tim Daly as Dr. Richard Kimble. It died. And last fall, Daly starred in "The Nine," yet another drama that was acclaimed (though I don't know why) but also was put on hiatus. Daly can't catch a break in the 2000s.
Fox had the guts to put on "Profit," a quick-cult show about a villainous businessman, but cut the 1996 series when it couldn't cut it in the ratings chase. "Profit" had a budding star on its hands: Adrian Pasdar, later Natalie Maines' husband and now flying man Nathan in "Heroes."
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Of all the TV shows that debuted in the fall, "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip" was the best bet to be a critics' darling and a hit. It was created by the makers of "The West Wing." Surely enough "West Wing" fans would give it the ratings to stay on the air.
But more viewers abandon it every week, and after Monday's episode NBC is sending it on indefinite hiatus.
What went wrong with "Studio 60"? The sex, the lack of sex, and the long and drawn-out relationships between potential couples are what's killing this show.
Despite the "West Wing" credentials of lead writer Aaron Sorkin and director Thomas Schlamme, "Studio 60" has been drawing the most typical kinds of TV couple conflicts.
A few weeks ago, two characters -- Matt (Matthew Perry) and Harriet (Sarah Paulson) -- were going through their 14th episode of trying to mend a broken romantic relationship. But Harriet kept finding artificial reasons to stay angry with Matt.
The show introduced a secondary, unrequited relationship between Jordan (Amanda Peet) and Danny (Bradley Whitford). They hooked up two weeks ago, but only after they got stuck on the roof of the "Studio 60" building for two episodes -- two! -- while another story line took two episodes -- two! -- to deal with a loose snake in the building.
If those two relationships haven't been belabored enough, a third was started between a guy who lied about having to cancel a date with a woman. He didn't have to lie; he canceled because of a work obligation. This caused severely idiotic arguments between him and her.
It doesn't help "Studio 60" that's it's an unfunny drama about the inner workings of a a TV sketch-comedy show akin to "Saturday Night Live."
D.L. Hughley, a comedian and actor who plays a sketch performer on the show, says working with "Studio's" happy cast is a joy. But he acknowledges the show's seriousness may puzzle potential viewers.
"When you say 'drama,' it automatically has a connotation that it's gonna be heavy," he says. "We're doing a show about comedy. That confuses people.
"What I like about '30 Rock' [the NBC comedy about an "SNL"-type show] is it's just a whimsical, fun thing people respond to."
Last week, "30 Rock" star Tina Fey took a jab at "Studio 60," comparing it to the outfit she wore at the Writers Guild Awards. "I hear Aaron Sorkin is in Los Angeles," she said, "wearing the same dress -- but longer, and not funny."
Hughley says if "Studio 60" survives, it will do so by ignoring expectations of contradictory critics -- some named it a top show of 2006; Entertainment Weekly named it the worst of the year.
"I became a funnier comic when I stopped believing [audience members] had to laugh," Hughley says. "It's gonna be incumbent upon us to do a show we believe in, and take off all the expectations and all the extra bull----, and do what we think is great."
It must be frustrating for the actors to be in this situation, working for the esteemed Sorkin on a show that should be better and better-watched. (Although it is getting better; last week's couples-centric episode was the season's best.)
Peet portrays a network TV executive, with a likable intensity, and she credits Sorkin for making her character real-ish.
"He's so good at avoiding cliches," Peet says. "Every time you think she's going to be the power woman, or the bitchy femme fatale ... it never [goes that way]. Whenever it leans that way," he bends in a different direction.
"If I could stay with Aaron Sorkin for the rest of my days, I'd be a happy camper," Peet says.
But odds are low "Studio 60" will weather a hiatus. Starting Feb. 26, NBC will fill the 9 p.m. Monday slot with "The Black Donnellys," another critically notable series.
delfman@suntimes.com
THE IMPRESSIONIST
It was partly by default that Sarah Paulson earned the "Studio 60" part of Harriet Hayes, the Christian-centric sketch comedian. At tryouts, the candidates were supposed to do impressions, but "none of the other actresses did it," Paulson says.
"I took out my bobby pins and started to imitate Juliette Lewis in my audition. And I could see them sort of recoil in their chairs after I took out a prop, [as if] they thought, 'Oh gosh, she's gonna do an impression of her Aunt Fern. ... That's not gonna be funny.'"
Paulson, 32, is the surprise standout in NBC's non-hit. She was nominated for best supporting actress at this year's Golden Globes.
At a moment's notice, Paulson can pretend-voice Juliette Lewis, Annette Bening, Julia Roberts and a dolphin, among others.
"I do a lot of women. I don't do a lot of men," she says.
What makes Paulson's work special isn't just mimicry skills, but her human portrayal of Harriett as a strong-willed woman who is no stereotype. Despite a part that's not always well written, she's kept relationship-conflicted Harriett spiritually likable, and neither whiny nor overbearing.
"People are interested in seeing a Christian woman who can have a martini and talk about premarital sex. She doesn't think she's going to hell," Paulson says. (This is acting for Paulson: "I'm not religious, but I'm not not-religious. I don't go to church.")
THEY WERE BALLYHOOED, THEN BOMBED
The bigger they are, they faster they fall. "Studio 60" isn't the first TV show to start out with critical acclaim or network hype only to fall quickly by the wayside. Here's a recent look back at a few other huge losers:
Just this fall, CBS' "Smith" starred Ray Liotta, Virginia Madsen, Simon Baker and Amy Smart in a series whose first episode felt like a riveting, character-based action movie about thieves. But it quickly started to go downhill. It couldn't retain viewers and it was axed in a few short weeks.
"Commander in Chief" was the "Studio 60" of 2005. With Geena Davis starring as the U.S. president and Donald Sutherland portraying a crafty Republican senator, the drama took off like a rocket, critically and popularly. Davis won an Emmy, even. But viewers dropped off en masse after ABC forced out creator Rod Lurie for delivering scripts late. Replacement producer Steven Bochco ruined the feel of the series, and it was dead within the first season.
Fox's "Wonderfalls" was compared favorably to CBS' "Joan of Arcadia," which managed to last two seasons. It was about a young woman who helped people after talking with animated objects, like stuffed bears. Fox dumped it after a few weeks, despite a fan-generated save-"Wonderfalls" campaign.
In 2003, "Skin" offered Ron Silver as a porn producer in this soapy "Romeo and Juliet" drama in the vein of "The O.C." A few critics liked its sleek focus on porn and politics, but after much advertising, Fox pulled the plug after less than handful of installments.
"The Fugitive" of 2000 was fast-paced, patterned like the movie and not like the '60s series. The CBS drama starred Tim Daly as Dr. Richard Kimble. It died. And last fall, Daly starred in "The Nine," yet another drama that was acclaimed (though I don't know why) but also was put on hiatus. Daly can't catch a break in the 2000s.
Fox had the guts to put on "Profit," a quick-cult show about a villainous businessman, but cut the 1996 series when it couldn't cut it in the ratings chase. "Profit" had a budding star on its hands: Adrian Pasdar, later Natalie Maines' husband and now flying man Nathan in "Heroes."
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Oscar nominees, their good roles, and the ones you know
I KNOW THESE ACTORS -- BUT FROM WHERE?
The stars of "Longford" have played both classy, award-winning characters and ones you actually saw.
JIM BROADBENT
Prestige role: Won an Oscar for portraying author John Bayley, the husband of Iris Murdoch, in 2001's "Iris."
The role you know: Bridget's dad in "Bridget Jones's Diary."
SAMANTHA MORTON
Prestige role: Nominated for an Oscar for portraying the sweet mute Hattie in Woody Allen's 1999 movie "Sweet and Lowdown," and nominated again for 2002's "In America."
The role you know: Agatha the pre-cog in "Minority Report."
ANDY SERKIS
Prestige role: Peter Jackson's "King Kong." He did Kong's voice and facial and body motion-captures.
The role you know: Gollum/Smeagol in the "Lord of the Rings" movies. (Or maybe you don't, since most of that character's image was animated.)
LINDSAY DUNCAN
Prestige role: Stars in HBO's series "Rome" as Servilia, mother of Brutus and former lover of dead Caesar.
The role you know: The hat-wearing Katherine in "Under the Tuscan Sun." She also provided the voice of evil droid TC-14 in "Star Wars: Episode I -- The Phantom Menace" as well as in "Lego Star Wars: The Video Game."
--Doug Elfman
'Longford': How forgiving should we be?
February 16, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Myra Hindley and Ian Brady were child murderers. They took nude photos of those they kidnapped, audiotaped one girl begging for her life, strangled and bludgeoned them. He raped several. Myra and Ian's love bonded over these acts.
So why in the world would anyone try to get Myra paroled from prison?
The answer is the subject of HBO's new movie "Longford." It first aired on British TV, which means it's not a gruesome, American re-creation of Myra and Ian's trail of blood. It's a throwback to the traditional literary movie based on a true story.
These early 1960s "Moors Murders" remain infamous in England, partly because Lord Frank Longford led a long campaign to get Myra paroled. He helped all prisoners who asked for help. She seemed no different -- in theory.
From the start, Longford (Jim Broadbent) is confronted by his novelist wife Elizabeth (Lindsay Duncan) as to why he's helping Myra. No person is beyond forgiveness, he says, then grips his hands together tight, on his knees at the bed, and prays.
Much of the film has to do with Longford's visits to Myra (Samantha Morton) in prison, and his discussing the case with his wife. Occasionally, he must deal with Ian (Andy Serkis), who tries to cast doubt on Myra's claims of contrition.
I said this is an old-school literary movie because it is a gallery of objective portraits, leaving the viewer to absorb narrative while pondering various parallels and themes.
The central theme is not redemption but conversion. Longford converted from conservativism to socialism, and from Protestant to Catholic. So, he must think, it's possible Myra has converted from evildoer to repentant ex-con.
And Longford's wife -- couldn't she convert from suspicious of Myra to supportive of her case?
It becomes clear fast that Longford, heading for retirement, is dependent on both his wife and the murderess -- just as Myra is dependent on both Longford and her memories of Ian. This causes an obvious friction that will come to a head.
Peter Morgan's script and Tom Hooper's direction finely focus on telling this narrow yet human story. Morton makes Myra mysterious. Serkis gives Ian the manipulative creeps. Duncan's Elizabeth is a justifiably open-minded Englishwoman.
And Broadbent takes Longford on a voyage from chipper helper to confused old man. When Longford reflects on the case near the end, Broadbent's delivery in one scene in particular (he's giving an interview at a radio station) is a lovely example of how an actor can purposely leave a viewer unable to read a character's true feelings.
Most instructive, at another point, Longford says, "Only dead fish swim with the stream." Longford swam against the stream to support one of England's biggest villains. Myra swam against the current to become that villain. Swimming upstream together, they seem fated for each other.
The stars of "Longford" have played both classy, award-winning characters and ones you actually saw.
JIM BROADBENT
Prestige role: Won an Oscar for portraying author John Bayley, the husband of Iris Murdoch, in 2001's "Iris."
The role you know: Bridget's dad in "Bridget Jones's Diary."
SAMANTHA MORTON
Prestige role: Nominated for an Oscar for portraying the sweet mute Hattie in Woody Allen's 1999 movie "Sweet and Lowdown," and nominated again for 2002's "In America."
The role you know: Agatha the pre-cog in "Minority Report."
ANDY SERKIS
Prestige role: Peter Jackson's "King Kong." He did Kong's voice and facial and body motion-captures.
The role you know: Gollum/Smeagol in the "Lord of the Rings" movies. (Or maybe you don't, since most of that character's image was animated.)
LINDSAY DUNCAN
Prestige role: Stars in HBO's series "Rome" as Servilia, mother of Brutus and former lover of dead Caesar.
The role you know: The hat-wearing Katherine in "Under the Tuscan Sun." She also provided the voice of evil droid TC-14 in "Star Wars: Episode I -- The Phantom Menace" as well as in "Lego Star Wars: The Video Game."
--Doug Elfman
'Longford': How forgiving should we be?
February 16, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Myra Hindley and Ian Brady were child murderers. They took nude photos of those they kidnapped, audiotaped one girl begging for her life, strangled and bludgeoned them. He raped several. Myra and Ian's love bonded over these acts.
So why in the world would anyone try to get Myra paroled from prison?
The answer is the subject of HBO's new movie "Longford." It first aired on British TV, which means it's not a gruesome, American re-creation of Myra and Ian's trail of blood. It's a throwback to the traditional literary movie based on a true story.
These early 1960s "Moors Murders" remain infamous in England, partly because Lord Frank Longford led a long campaign to get Myra paroled. He helped all prisoners who asked for help. She seemed no different -- in theory.
From the start, Longford (Jim Broadbent) is confronted by his novelist wife Elizabeth (Lindsay Duncan) as to why he's helping Myra. No person is beyond forgiveness, he says, then grips his hands together tight, on his knees at the bed, and prays.
Much of the film has to do with Longford's visits to Myra (Samantha Morton) in prison, and his discussing the case with his wife. Occasionally, he must deal with Ian (Andy Serkis), who tries to cast doubt on Myra's claims of contrition.
I said this is an old-school literary movie because it is a gallery of objective portraits, leaving the viewer to absorb narrative while pondering various parallels and themes.
The central theme is not redemption but conversion. Longford converted from conservativism to socialism, and from Protestant to Catholic. So, he must think, it's possible Myra has converted from evildoer to repentant ex-con.
And Longford's wife -- couldn't she convert from suspicious of Myra to supportive of her case?
It becomes clear fast that Longford, heading for retirement, is dependent on both his wife and the murderess -- just as Myra is dependent on both Longford and her memories of Ian. This causes an obvious friction that will come to a head.
Peter Morgan's script and Tom Hooper's direction finely focus on telling this narrow yet human story. Morton makes Myra mysterious. Serkis gives Ian the manipulative creeps. Duncan's Elizabeth is a justifiably open-minded Englishwoman.
And Broadbent takes Longford on a voyage from chipper helper to confused old man. When Longford reflects on the case near the end, Broadbent's delivery in one scene in particular (he's giving an interview at a radio station) is a lovely example of how an actor can purposely leave a viewer unable to read a character's true feelings.
Most instructive, at another point, Longford says, "Only dead fish swim with the stream." Longford swam against the stream to support one of England's biggest villains. Myra swam against the current to become that villain. Swimming upstream together, they seem fated for each other.
Ann Coulter is nuts, duh, and in hiding?
February 15, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Hateable conservative Ann Coulter hasn't appeared on the lefty "Real Time With Bill Maher" for a few years. Maher thinks she's "literally in an undisclosed location" handling "security issues" after denouncing 9/11 widows and such.
"In America, you shouldn't have to have security issues because of free speech," he says. "She's not afraid to get booed. We need more people who are not afraid to get booed."
Maher used to hang out with Coulter -- "she was great company" -- and liberal friends gave him grief about it.
"Aren't liberals supposed to be the ones who reach out and aren't crimped?"
Coulter has gotten "more out of her mind. That's true," Maher says.
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Hateable conservative Ann Coulter hasn't appeared on the lefty "Real Time With Bill Maher" for a few years. Maher thinks she's "literally in an undisclosed location" handling "security issues" after denouncing 9/11 widows and such.
"In America, you shouldn't have to have security issues because of free speech," he says. "She's not afraid to get booed. We need more people who are not afraid to get booed."
Maher used to hang out with Coulter -- "she was great company" -- and liberal friends gave him grief about it.
"Aren't liberals supposed to be the ones who reach out and aren't crimped?"
Coulter has gotten "more out of her mind. That's true," Maher says.
Maher pokes Bush
February 15, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
The Chicago Sun-Times
Since Bill Maher talks openly about smoking pot, I ask him why he doesn't take his TV guests overseas for an episode or two, so they can legally toke up on camera.
Oddly, the comic refuses to take this suggestion seriously.
"I was just in Amsterdam," he says. "It would be a different show, just put it that way."
HBO's live-from-L.A. "Real Time With Bill Maher" begins new weekly episodes at 10 p.m. Friday. As usual, his studio audiences will applaud liberal jokes and statements. Maher has openly appealed for conservatives to sit with his crowds, but they won't.
"They're apparently in bed by 8 o'clock at night on Friday and getting ready for church or something," he says.
Maher doesn't think true conservatives would take the time to sit in his audience to support President Bush anyway, now that the unpopular president is waging a war of "incompetence" and running up the debt.
"It's very hard these days just to be a conservative on my show or, really, anywhere," Maher says.
Or maybe conservatives don't want to go to a studio to listen to Maher rationalize a Bush impeachment while issuing naughty proclamations. ("Truth is like sex," he says of his show. "It's best when it's a little painful.")
If Maher's favorite guests appear this season, that would mean more Ben Affleck, D.L. Hughley, Larry Miller, Robin Williams and Barney Frank.
Each of those men does his homework beforehand, then doesn't hold back. (His two most entertaining guests last year were Frank, a master debater, and the funny and acidic Harry Anderson from "Night Court.")
One thing's for sure. Maher is oiling up guests with alcohol. Some of them drink before they go on TV to calm anxiety.
"It helps some. Others it does not help at all. I think we've seen those instances," he says without elaborating.
Maher more earnestly offers booze to guests after an episode wraps for the night. This isn't a problem at HBO, but it started a "big fight" he lost at ABC, which he refers to as "Disney," ABC's parent company.
"I wanted drinks in the green room, and they did not want them at ABC," Maher says. "I think it's always good to get, you know, a moderate amount of liquor into a guest, because they're nervous as hell."
Is Maher, at 51, being "Politically Incorrect"? Hardly. That was Maher's ABC show until the network tossed him not long after he offered the distinction that terrorists acted stupidly, not cowardly, on 9/11.
He prefers guests on his show to behave not cowardly or stupidly, but angrily.
"There's a lot to be angry about. People who aren't angry, they're the ones I want to say, 'What's wrong with you?' "
He says the hothead conservative Sen. John McCain gets a bad rap for blowing his top; this demonstrates that, whether or not conservatives will attend his shows, the host will defend some of them with a typically Maher deliberation.
"They do level that charge at John McCain, but you know, John McCain spent five years in a box in Vietnam. Maybe he's a little cranky because of that."
BY DOUG ELFMAN
The Chicago Sun-Times
Since Bill Maher talks openly about smoking pot, I ask him why he doesn't take his TV guests overseas for an episode or two, so they can legally toke up on camera.
Oddly, the comic refuses to take this suggestion seriously.
"I was just in Amsterdam," he says. "It would be a different show, just put it that way."
HBO's live-from-L.A. "Real Time With Bill Maher" begins new weekly episodes at 10 p.m. Friday. As usual, his studio audiences will applaud liberal jokes and statements. Maher has openly appealed for conservatives to sit with his crowds, but they won't.
"They're apparently in bed by 8 o'clock at night on Friday and getting ready for church or something," he says.
Maher doesn't think true conservatives would take the time to sit in his audience to support President Bush anyway, now that the unpopular president is waging a war of "incompetence" and running up the debt.
"It's very hard these days just to be a conservative on my show or, really, anywhere," Maher says.
Or maybe conservatives don't want to go to a studio to listen to Maher rationalize a Bush impeachment while issuing naughty proclamations. ("Truth is like sex," he says of his show. "It's best when it's a little painful.")
If Maher's favorite guests appear this season, that would mean more Ben Affleck, D.L. Hughley, Larry Miller, Robin Williams and Barney Frank.
Each of those men does his homework beforehand, then doesn't hold back. (His two most entertaining guests last year were Frank, a master debater, and the funny and acidic Harry Anderson from "Night Court.")
One thing's for sure. Maher is oiling up guests with alcohol. Some of them drink before they go on TV to calm anxiety.
"It helps some. Others it does not help at all. I think we've seen those instances," he says without elaborating.
Maher more earnestly offers booze to guests after an episode wraps for the night. This isn't a problem at HBO, but it started a "big fight" he lost at ABC, which he refers to as "Disney," ABC's parent company.
"I wanted drinks in the green room, and they did not want them at ABC," Maher says. "I think it's always good to get, you know, a moderate amount of liquor into a guest, because they're nervous as hell."
Is Maher, at 51, being "Politically Incorrect"? Hardly. That was Maher's ABC show until the network tossed him not long after he offered the distinction that terrorists acted stupidly, not cowardly, on 9/11.
He prefers guests on his show to behave not cowardly or stupidly, but angrily.
"There's a lot to be angry about. People who aren't angry, they're the ones I want to say, 'What's wrong with you?' "
He says the hothead conservative Sen. John McCain gets a bad rap for blowing his top; this demonstrates that, whether or not conservatives will attend his shows, the host will defend some of them with a typically Maher deliberation.
"They do level that charge at John McCain, but you know, John McCain spent five years in a box in Vietnam. Maybe he's a little cranky because of that."
Ugly Betty's pretty sister
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
Male TV directors in Hollywood have told me it's hard to find shows willing to hire female directors. Whenever I've asked why, they simply said, "I don't know." But "Ugly Betty" is an oasis where women really are equal, or in control, behind the scenes.
"Half of the writers are women, if not more. We've had more women directors on the show than men," says Ana Ortiz, who plays Betty's sister Hilda. "I've never been on a set before where there's so many women calling the shots."
As a result, Ortiz, 36, believes women viewers relate to the hit show.
"I haven't ever had a ['Betty'] script where I thought, 'I wouldn't say that.' That's happened so many times before [on other shows]," she says.
Moreover, a lot of the characters and crew are not white, as Ortiz, a New York native of Puerto Rican descent, explains.
"My own experience working [as an actress] has been cliche," she says. "It's Maria the maid, or Maria the drug-dealer's girlfriend, or Maria the sassy spitfire."
In other shows, she says, Latinas "are the guest stars. We come in and we have an affair with the husband, we ruin the family and then we leave."
Hilda is a kind of sassy spitfire, but she's more fleshed out than that, Ortiz says.
"You get to see the relationship with her son, being a single mom, and everyone living right on top of each other," she says. "It's not so surface."
Producer Salma Hayek deserves a lot of the credit. She was very active in getting the show made, and she remains active in promoting and working on the series.
Higher-ups at ABC have also gone the extra mile, investing millions of dollars a week not just in the production and promotion of "Betty" but in the female sensations "Grey's Anatomy," "Desperate Housewives," "Men in Trees" and "Brothers & Sisters."
The investment is paying off. "Betty" and "Grey's" are perhaps the most diverse shows on TV, and they're ABC's top-rated series among all viewers and the coveted age demographic of 18- to 49-year-olds.
Ortiz says "Betty" doesn't exploit issues of gender and heritage by propping up old storylines, either.
For instance, she says, Hilda's son is gay, but Betty's family is not freaked out about it.
"Here's this great kid who's completely unique, well-adjusted, loves himself, loves his family, and he's his own person," she says. "And we don't have to comment on it and wring our hands and sweat. He's happy."
Ortiz hopes the look of "Betty," both in front of and behind the camera, becomes contagious, and she has good reason to be optimistic now that "Betty" is a critical and popular smash.
"People are going to go where the money is. That's obnoxious to say, but we're doing really well and that's a huge plus, and hopefully it means [TV networks will] take a risk like this."
With Ortiz's own success blooming, she jokes, she might hire a maid.
"I'm gonna name her Maria," she says. "But she has to be white."
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Can't tell 'Idol' contestants without their mug shots
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
'American Idol" is like sports. Everyone insists it's a G-rated show families watch together. But just like in sports -- where athletes are always getting busted -- "Idol's" off-camera mischief is sex, drugs and crime.
Contestants are thrown off the show so often, the latest "Idol" brouhaha hasn't even evolved into a scandal. Dallas singer Akron Watson -- who would have been taking part in tonight's Hollywood auditions -- was charged in 2003 with misdemeanor possession of pot in his car.
But "Idol" aired Watson's audition, anyway, even though he had been kicked off.
Add Watson to the list of contestants who were later found to have: posed topless; roughed up a significant other; possessed cocaine; committed forgery or assault, or beat up cops.
In sports, coaches express contrition about player misdeeds. The "Idol" cast jokes about them. Not long ago, I asked host Ryan Seacrest if anyone had been busted so far this season.
"I could talk to you for days," he cracked, without elaborating.
Similarly, I asked judge Simon Cowell if the show had yet to eliminate anyone for prior nude pictures or criminal acts.
"No, no, I welcome them," he joked about nude photos, and he left it at that.
It seems the only scandal that sticks to "Idol" is the ever-swirl of controversy around poor little judge Paula Abdul. She was previously accused of bedding a contestant; that charge didn't stick.
She's still dealing with speculation she's drunk or drugged on air.
Abdul's behavior is so odd at times, according to Reality TV magazine, executive producer Nigel Lythgoe admits editors are cutting camera shots of Abdul to keep people from wrongfully thinking she's under the influence.
"Unfortunately," Lythgoe said, "once you get in your head that she's drunk or she's taking drugs -- neither of which she does -- it's very difficult" to think otherwise.
"We look when we're editing the show nowadays and say, 'Hey, are people going to think she's drunk for doing that?' We try and take that into account."
Abdul vehemently denies the drinking/drugging rumors and claims she doesn't even imbibe. I believe her. I do, even though she has looked kind of, sort of, totally out of her mind during some auditions. Glassy eyes. Erratic, unappealing dancing. (She's a choreographer, right?)
There was a contestant a few weeks ago who earned "yes" votes from Cowell and judge Randy Jackson, but Abdul thought the contestant, who sounded fine to me, was out of key. What was going on with Abdul's ears?
To tell you the truth, this season I find myself anticipating camera shots of her. I want more loopy Paula, not less. (Perhaps a drink is exactly what she needs to get a grip.)
As much as Cowell makes fun of Abdul, he defended her last month after journalists tore into her bizarre interviews with local TV markets. Cowell said he's looked worse during such interviews and people should lay off her.
"I felt bad for her," Cowell said. "I felt a little like the mob mentality [descended] on Paula, watching it from afar. And I thought it's gone a bit too far. She can be wacky, I can be wacky; it's one of the reasons I enjoy working with her."
He's got a point. Abdul is a source of amusement. And, frankly, it's amusing to see a guy who was auditioning to become a famous singer get his dreams crushed for smoking pot. Because no famous singers in the world smoke pot. ...
But to pretend "Idol" is pure family good times is to indulge in a smidgen of folly. Yes, there's no "CSI" brain blood. No HBO nudity. It's cleaner than other shows -- on the air, but not off. Just like professional sports.
BEFORE AKRON, THERE WERE ...
... TAYLOR HICKS
Last year's winner once was once charged with possessing pot and paraphernalia, but he wasn't tossed. The charges were dismissed in 1998, and he had owned up to his past with producers.
COREY CLARK
The finalist was disqualified in 2003 when a prior arrest was revealed. He faced charges of assaulting his sister and police and pleaded no contest to obstructing the legal process. Clark is the contestant judge Paula Abdul was accused of getting romantic with; Fox said it investigated and found insufficient evidence.
SCOTT SAVOL
He was one of nine finalists in 2004 before thesmokinggun. com reported he'd once been accused of calling his baby's mama "several vulgar names," pulling off her engagement ring and shoving her. He pleaded to a misdemeanor disorderly conduct charge.
FRANCHELLE "FRENCHIE" DAVIS
In 2003, Fox kicked off this fan favorite because she once posed topless for a photo that appeared online.
HAROLD "BO" BICE
The rocker, who almost made it to the finale in 2005, had told producers about his past and was not thrown off. It was reported during the season's run he'd been arrested on cocaine and pot charges, which were dropped. A different time, he had pleaded guilty to misdemeanor charges of public intoxication and possession of drug paraphernalia.
TERRELL BRITTENUM
This singer was disqualified after passing through to the final elimination in 2006. He had been charged with forgery, theft and identity fraud.
LASHUNDRA "TRENYCE" COBBINS
A finalist in 2003, she was once charged with felony theft and entered a pre-trial diversion program.
JAERED ANDREWS
This finalist was ejected in 2003 after he got in a fistfight in a case where a guy died. He was charged with assault but acquitted.
SIMON ON ...
This year's contestants: "The girls overall are stronger. ... To me it smacks of season one. You can't spot an obvious [winner]. So it could be a dark horse is gonna win. But I prefer that. When someone like Carrie Underwood walks in, you just go, 'OK, fine, she's won,' and it's not as interesting."
Whether he and Paula have kissed: "Yeah, in the second season we recorded this film for the finale, where we actually had what we call a snog. And it was with tongues."
The early judging: "We won't be going back to Seattle next year. I do like the city, I just hated the singers that turned up."
What his tombstone might read: "Thank God he's gone."
Chicago Sun-Times
'American Idol" is like sports. Everyone insists it's a G-rated show families watch together. But just like in sports -- where athletes are always getting busted -- "Idol's" off-camera mischief is sex, drugs and crime.
Contestants are thrown off the show so often, the latest "Idol" brouhaha hasn't even evolved into a scandal. Dallas singer Akron Watson -- who would have been taking part in tonight's Hollywood auditions -- was charged in 2003 with misdemeanor possession of pot in his car.
But "Idol" aired Watson's audition, anyway, even though he had been kicked off.
Add Watson to the list of contestants who were later found to have: posed topless; roughed up a significant other; possessed cocaine; committed forgery or assault, or beat up cops.
In sports, coaches express contrition about player misdeeds. The "Idol" cast jokes about them. Not long ago, I asked host Ryan Seacrest if anyone had been busted so far this season.
"I could talk to you for days," he cracked, without elaborating.
Similarly, I asked judge Simon Cowell if the show had yet to eliminate anyone for prior nude pictures or criminal acts.
"No, no, I welcome them," he joked about nude photos, and he left it at that.
It seems the only scandal that sticks to "Idol" is the ever-swirl of controversy around poor little judge Paula Abdul. She was previously accused of bedding a contestant; that charge didn't stick.
She's still dealing with speculation she's drunk or drugged on air.
Abdul's behavior is so odd at times, according to Reality TV magazine, executive producer Nigel Lythgoe admits editors are cutting camera shots of Abdul to keep people from wrongfully thinking she's under the influence.
"Unfortunately," Lythgoe said, "once you get in your head that she's drunk or she's taking drugs -- neither of which she does -- it's very difficult" to think otherwise.
"We look when we're editing the show nowadays and say, 'Hey, are people going to think she's drunk for doing that?' We try and take that into account."
Abdul vehemently denies the drinking/drugging rumors and claims she doesn't even imbibe. I believe her. I do, even though she has looked kind of, sort of, totally out of her mind during some auditions. Glassy eyes. Erratic, unappealing dancing. (She's a choreographer, right?)
There was a contestant a few weeks ago who earned "yes" votes from Cowell and judge Randy Jackson, but Abdul thought the contestant, who sounded fine to me, was out of key. What was going on with Abdul's ears?
To tell you the truth, this season I find myself anticipating camera shots of her. I want more loopy Paula, not less. (Perhaps a drink is exactly what she needs to get a grip.)
As much as Cowell makes fun of Abdul, he defended her last month after journalists tore into her bizarre interviews with local TV markets. Cowell said he's looked worse during such interviews and people should lay off her.
"I felt bad for her," Cowell said. "I felt a little like the mob mentality [descended] on Paula, watching it from afar. And I thought it's gone a bit too far. She can be wacky, I can be wacky; it's one of the reasons I enjoy working with her."
He's got a point. Abdul is a source of amusement. And, frankly, it's amusing to see a guy who was auditioning to become a famous singer get his dreams crushed for smoking pot. Because no famous singers in the world smoke pot. ...
But to pretend "Idol" is pure family good times is to indulge in a smidgen of folly. Yes, there's no "CSI" brain blood. No HBO nudity. It's cleaner than other shows -- on the air, but not off. Just like professional sports.
BEFORE AKRON, THERE WERE ...
... TAYLOR HICKS
Last year's winner once was once charged with possessing pot and paraphernalia, but he wasn't tossed. The charges were dismissed in 1998, and he had owned up to his past with producers.
COREY CLARK
The finalist was disqualified in 2003 when a prior arrest was revealed. He faced charges of assaulting his sister and police and pleaded no contest to obstructing the legal process. Clark is the contestant judge Paula Abdul was accused of getting romantic with; Fox said it investigated and found insufficient evidence.
SCOTT SAVOL
He was one of nine finalists in 2004 before thesmokinggun. com reported he'd once been accused of calling his baby's mama "several vulgar names," pulling off her engagement ring and shoving her. He pleaded to a misdemeanor disorderly conduct charge.
FRANCHELLE "FRENCHIE" DAVIS
In 2003, Fox kicked off this fan favorite because she once posed topless for a photo that appeared online.
HAROLD "BO" BICE
The rocker, who almost made it to the finale in 2005, had told producers about his past and was not thrown off. It was reported during the season's run he'd been arrested on cocaine and pot charges, which were dropped. A different time, he had pleaded guilty to misdemeanor charges of public intoxication and possession of drug paraphernalia.
TERRELL BRITTENUM
This singer was disqualified after passing through to the final elimination in 2006. He had been charged with forgery, theft and identity fraud.
LASHUNDRA "TRENYCE" COBBINS
A finalist in 2003, she was once charged with felony theft and entered a pre-trial diversion program.
JAERED ANDREWS
This finalist was ejected in 2003 after he got in a fistfight in a case where a guy died. He was charged with assault but acquitted.
SIMON ON ...
This year's contestants: "The girls overall are stronger. ... To me it smacks of season one. You can't spot an obvious [winner]. So it could be a dark horse is gonna win. But I prefer that. When someone like Carrie Underwood walks in, you just go, 'OK, fine, she's won,' and it's not as interesting."
Whether he and Paula have kissed: "Yeah, in the second season we recorded this film for the finale, where we actually had what we call a snog. And it was with tongues."
The early judging: "We won't be going back to Seattle next year. I do like the city, I just hated the singers that turned up."
What his tombstone might read: "Thank God he's gone."
Sunday, February 11, 2007
I heart art
I went to the something annual art show of something and man was it good. Take a look at the best (must cut and paste for some reason):
my friend memo's art
http://www.gmunro.com/images/pagina_servicios_mainIMAGE.gif
nudes
http://www.bellavistagallery.com/qian/attention.html
big feet
http://www.gabrielmejia.com/images/800/yourmomsaidthatina-2006.jpg
fngerpuppet photos
http://www.secretagentmartens.com/fingerpuppets/fingerpuppets.html
my friend memo's art
http://www.gmunro.com/images/pagina_servicios_mainIMAGE.gif
nudes
http://www.bellavistagallery.com/qian/attention.html
big feet
http://www.gabrielmejia.com/images/800/yourmomsaidthatina-2006.jpg
fngerpuppet photos
http://www.secretagentmartens.com/fingerpuppets/fingerpuppets.html
The most popular show nobody talks about
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
A decade ago, Lauren Holly co-starred on "Picket Fences," which won awards, critical acclaim and references in pop culture. But it often hovered around No. 60 in the ratings, she says. Now all that's reversed. She co-stars on a Top 10 series -- but it gets no awards, no press and no buzz.
"We're like the bad stepchild" in the media, Holly says of "NCIS," a hit drama based on real sleuthing of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. "I sort of miss the attention -- being written about, the ads in all the magazines, all that stuff. Instead, it's like we're out here by ourselves, and we're just glad we have a loyal fan base that follows us."
Loyal isn't the half of it. "NCIS" has remained in the Top 10 even while it's been running repeats in the same time slot as behemoth "American Idol."
"We're like the only show that does well against it," Holly says.
There's an online devotion, too. SpoilerFix.com, the site that spoils upcoming episode plots of TV shows, says "NCIS" is a Top 10 show for drawing Internet traffic to the site.
What the cast may not know is this: Critics partly neglect "NCIS" because CBS doesn't send us DVD screeners of upcoming episodes; we can't review what we don't have. (CBS wouldn't even supply me with new episodes after I said I was writing this big, splashy feature.)
The cast, Holly says, thinks non-viewers don't understand what the series is: a character-based show, more than a cop-procedure show. They associate it with "JAG," the military show from which it was spun off. (One critic has called "NCIS" a "JAG"-off.) Or they think it's a conservative show.
To the contrary, Holly says it's not conservative; it has a "great cast," it goes for both humor and somber story lines, it's well-shot and quickly paced, "and frequently there's a lot of secret sex going on."
Yet "NCIS" is the most popular show on TV that people don't talk about, she says.
She fears it could remain that way, "shy of us ripping off our clothes and running down Sunset Boulevard, screaming that our hair's on fire. It'll be like, 'Those are the people from that show -- "CSI What?" '"
"NCIS," which debuted in 2003, is not another "CSI" or "Law & Order." It always begins with a caper involving forensics and footwork. Sometimes it's solved, sometimes not. But that's not the thrust. Most of the series focuses on the interaction between the civilian detectives, who flirt with and rag on each other.
Granted, the tone is kind of bizarre. One episode this season began with a military vet getting blown up by a terrorist. At times, his death was treated sentimentally and with manipulative patriotism. Other times, a cop cracked crass jokes about the dead vet. Meanwhile, male and female cops checked out each other's butts.
That's the "NCIS" way. It mixes humor and playful innuendo with grim crime cases. One cop shot a mobile-phone video of another cop who was scratching a poison oak patch in his pants; the phone video made it look like the guy was not itching but masturbating.
Dialogue can be gung-ho silly. In another episode this season, a character said, "These scumbags have been selling weapons to tyrants and terrorists ever since they gave us the slip -- guns and bombs and RPG's used to kill American soldiers and Marines in every hellhole from Mogadishu to Baghdad. It's time it ended!"
That said, "NCIS" isn't a frat house. The three smartest and capable characters are women: NCIS Director Jenny Shepard (Holly), Israeli-born cop Ziva David (played by Chile-born Cote de Pablo) and wiry lab detective Abby Sciuto (Pauley Perrette).
Ziva gives the boys hell, calling them on lies and behavior even as they try to impress her into the sack. These women aren't den mothers or vixens. They're powerful figures who -- like women on other detective shows -- work diligently. They don't giggle or lose composure when men sexualize them.
But Holly jokes she wouldn't mind if de Pablo used her off-camera sexuality to draw more public attention to "NCIS."
"She wants me to start dating a celebrity, which is something I would never do -- not for the sake of dating a celebrity," de Pablo says.
"The women here are being portrayed as smart women," she adds. "I love the fact that they made the director of 'NCIS' a woman [Holly]. That would never happen in real life."
Arguably, the key character isn't any of the women but Mark Harmon's Gibbs. He's the ostensible lead. But Harmon puts all the credit for the show's ratings on the producer, the ensemble cast and the huge crew.
Harmon calls producer Donald Bellisario a demanding "force of nature" and "not for the weak of heart." (Bellisario tries to keep upcoming plots a secret from critics and fans.) Bellisario is a former Marine who previously created and wrote "JAG," "Magnum, P.I.," "Quantum Leap" and the first "Battlestar Galactica."
"You come here, you bring you're 'A' game. And you bring it every day," Harmon says. "We work an average of 16 hours a day, every day, and sometimes Sundays -- [from] July 4th till the end of May. People really put the effort in here."
Most hourlong series shoot scripts numbering at about 57 pages, but "NCIS" scripts are 80 pages, Harmon says. Hard work has garnered fan allegiance, he says. And with no bitterness in his voice, he suggests the show can gain more respect from the press if everyone on "NCIS" keeps plugging along.
"I think we're earning you guys who write about us, and I think we're earning the promos on CBS," he says. "The only thing we can control here is the work we do every day."
Chicago Sun-Times
A decade ago, Lauren Holly co-starred on "Picket Fences," which won awards, critical acclaim and references in pop culture. But it often hovered around No. 60 in the ratings, she says. Now all that's reversed. She co-stars on a Top 10 series -- but it gets no awards, no press and no buzz.
"We're like the bad stepchild" in the media, Holly says of "NCIS," a hit drama based on real sleuthing of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. "I sort of miss the attention -- being written about, the ads in all the magazines, all that stuff. Instead, it's like we're out here by ourselves, and we're just glad we have a loyal fan base that follows us."
Loyal isn't the half of it. "NCIS" has remained in the Top 10 even while it's been running repeats in the same time slot as behemoth "American Idol."
"We're like the only show that does well against it," Holly says.
There's an online devotion, too. SpoilerFix.com, the site that spoils upcoming episode plots of TV shows, says "NCIS" is a Top 10 show for drawing Internet traffic to the site.
What the cast may not know is this: Critics partly neglect "NCIS" because CBS doesn't send us DVD screeners of upcoming episodes; we can't review what we don't have. (CBS wouldn't even supply me with new episodes after I said I was writing this big, splashy feature.)
The cast, Holly says, thinks non-viewers don't understand what the series is: a character-based show, more than a cop-procedure show. They associate it with "JAG," the military show from which it was spun off. (One critic has called "NCIS" a "JAG"-off.) Or they think it's a conservative show.
To the contrary, Holly says it's not conservative; it has a "great cast," it goes for both humor and somber story lines, it's well-shot and quickly paced, "and frequently there's a lot of secret sex going on."
Yet "NCIS" is the most popular show on TV that people don't talk about, she says.
She fears it could remain that way, "shy of us ripping off our clothes and running down Sunset Boulevard, screaming that our hair's on fire. It'll be like, 'Those are the people from that show -- "CSI What?" '"
"NCIS," which debuted in 2003, is not another "CSI" or "Law & Order." It always begins with a caper involving forensics and footwork. Sometimes it's solved, sometimes not. But that's not the thrust. Most of the series focuses on the interaction between the civilian detectives, who flirt with and rag on each other.
Granted, the tone is kind of bizarre. One episode this season began with a military vet getting blown up by a terrorist. At times, his death was treated sentimentally and with manipulative patriotism. Other times, a cop cracked crass jokes about the dead vet. Meanwhile, male and female cops checked out each other's butts.
That's the "NCIS" way. It mixes humor and playful innuendo with grim crime cases. One cop shot a mobile-phone video of another cop who was scratching a poison oak patch in his pants; the phone video made it look like the guy was not itching but masturbating.
Dialogue can be gung-ho silly. In another episode this season, a character said, "These scumbags have been selling weapons to tyrants and terrorists ever since they gave us the slip -- guns and bombs and RPG's used to kill American soldiers and Marines in every hellhole from Mogadishu to Baghdad. It's time it ended!"
That said, "NCIS" isn't a frat house. The three smartest and capable characters are women: NCIS Director Jenny Shepard (Holly), Israeli-born cop Ziva David (played by Chile-born Cote de Pablo) and wiry lab detective Abby Sciuto (Pauley Perrette).
Ziva gives the boys hell, calling them on lies and behavior even as they try to impress her into the sack. These women aren't den mothers or vixens. They're powerful figures who -- like women on other detective shows -- work diligently. They don't giggle or lose composure when men sexualize them.
But Holly jokes she wouldn't mind if de Pablo used her off-camera sexuality to draw more public attention to "NCIS."
"She wants me to start dating a celebrity, which is something I would never do -- not for the sake of dating a celebrity," de Pablo says.
"The women here are being portrayed as smart women," she adds. "I love the fact that they made the director of 'NCIS' a woman [Holly]. That would never happen in real life."
Arguably, the key character isn't any of the women but Mark Harmon's Gibbs. He's the ostensible lead. But Harmon puts all the credit for the show's ratings on the producer, the ensemble cast and the huge crew.
Harmon calls producer Donald Bellisario a demanding "force of nature" and "not for the weak of heart." (Bellisario tries to keep upcoming plots a secret from critics and fans.) Bellisario is a former Marine who previously created and wrote "JAG," "Magnum, P.I.," "Quantum Leap" and the first "Battlestar Galactica."
"You come here, you bring you're 'A' game. And you bring it every day," Harmon says. "We work an average of 16 hours a day, every day, and sometimes Sundays -- [from] July 4th till the end of May. People really put the effort in here."
Most hourlong series shoot scripts numbering at about 57 pages, but "NCIS" scripts are 80 pages, Harmon says. Hard work has garnered fan allegiance, he says. And with no bitterness in his voice, he suggests the show can gain more respect from the press if everyone on "NCIS" keeps plugging along.
"I think we're earning you guys who write about us, and I think we're earning the promos on CBS," he says. "The only thing we can control here is the work we do every day."
Friday, February 09, 2007
But it's better than 'Lost'
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Playing "Lost Planet" is like going on a date with a really hot dummy. Look how gorgeous! But so stupid!
The choice: Do you put up with a pretty moron to engage in promising action-adventure? Or is the idiocy so pure it'll ruin your happy fun times?
The Hot Dumb game is a type of game that comes along frequently. Hot Dumb "Lost Planet" does have redeeming merits. But first, let's look at a checklist of attributes, so typical of the Hot Dumb Shooting Adventure subgenre.
A) All the characters have terrific hair.
B) Everyone looks 25 percent Asian.
C) At least one skinny yet curvy woman, despite standing in a freezing tundra of snow and ice, is wearing a big thick coat that ill-advisably does not cover her ample cleavage.
D) A simplistic yet confusing story line takes place among space colonies.
Here, humans must shoot elephant-sized aliens named the "Akrid scourge." They appear to be menacing and curious-looking, as if they were giant scorpions in the process of mating with monster-truck tires. Yes, in the process.
To kill this scourge, you shoot them in the butt (really) and eat their soul (I am being totally for-real).
Furthermore: Don't be surprised if you suffer "temporary amnesia" and encounter "snow pirates."
E) The dialogue stinks.
"You want some of this?" you say, while machine-gunning an alien ne'er-do-well. Apparently, your father dies (I wasn't 100 percent sure about this, since it's a sloppy plot point), and you yell, "Daaad!" These are perhaps the two most compelling sentences in the game.
What is it with these fantasy, sci-fi games? They cost millions of dollars to make. As many as 100 people per game draw the computer programs. So why not hire better writers?
Story lines and conversations are corny, childish and canny: the Three Stinky C's of intellectually challenged video games.
That's the bad.
The good is considerable. Remember, you went on this date for a reason.
The makers of "Lost Planet" have used their drawing skills to develop phenomenal-looking spectacles and scenes, featuring fun guns, cartoon-photorealism and many hours of action. The online multiplayer modes offer up decent, if murkily lighted, battles where you respawn back to life after chatty punks kill you.
It is, for sure, somewhat addicting to run across terrain, blowing up ground-based and flying aliens with shotguns and rocket launchers (plus, a supreme scope rifle). It's cool, exploding big bugs with hand grenades and stepping into an SUV-size man suit (a "Vital Suit") equipped with machine guns and hover rockets.
There is one Hot Dumb commonality "Lost Planet" cannot avoid, because all games are like this: Its challenges seem difficult at first. But once you figure out what you're supposed to do on a given map of alien-rampaging, the violence becomes easy, if cheesy.
And after all, what defines a good game is not dialogue or originality but game play. It's fun to dance with. Just because you've dated similar, luxurious-haired, 25-percent Asian Hot Dumbs doesn't mean this Hot Dumb won't impress you with luster and fast moves.
("Lost Planet" for Xbox 360 -- Plays fun despite being very typical of the sci-fi genre. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "T" for animated blood, mild language and violence. Three stars out of four.)
The Game Dork
Playing "Lost Planet" is like going on a date with a really hot dummy. Look how gorgeous! But so stupid!
The choice: Do you put up with a pretty moron to engage in promising action-adventure? Or is the idiocy so pure it'll ruin your happy fun times?
The Hot Dumb game is a type of game that comes along frequently. Hot Dumb "Lost Planet" does have redeeming merits. But first, let's look at a checklist of attributes, so typical of the Hot Dumb Shooting Adventure subgenre.
A) All the characters have terrific hair.
B) Everyone looks 25 percent Asian.
C) At least one skinny yet curvy woman, despite standing in a freezing tundra of snow and ice, is wearing a big thick coat that ill-advisably does not cover her ample cleavage.
D) A simplistic yet confusing story line takes place among space colonies.
Here, humans must shoot elephant-sized aliens named the "Akrid scourge." They appear to be menacing and curious-looking, as if they were giant scorpions in the process of mating with monster-truck tires. Yes, in the process.
To kill this scourge, you shoot them in the butt (really) and eat their soul (I am being totally for-real).
Furthermore: Don't be surprised if you suffer "temporary amnesia" and encounter "snow pirates."
E) The dialogue stinks.
"You want some of this?" you say, while machine-gunning an alien ne'er-do-well. Apparently, your father dies (I wasn't 100 percent sure about this, since it's a sloppy plot point), and you yell, "Daaad!" These are perhaps the two most compelling sentences in the game.
What is it with these fantasy, sci-fi games? They cost millions of dollars to make. As many as 100 people per game draw the computer programs. So why not hire better writers?
Story lines and conversations are corny, childish and canny: the Three Stinky C's of intellectually challenged video games.
That's the bad.
The good is considerable. Remember, you went on this date for a reason.
The makers of "Lost Planet" have used their drawing skills to develop phenomenal-looking spectacles and scenes, featuring fun guns, cartoon-photorealism and many hours of action. The online multiplayer modes offer up decent, if murkily lighted, battles where you respawn back to life after chatty punks kill you.
It is, for sure, somewhat addicting to run across terrain, blowing up ground-based and flying aliens with shotguns and rocket launchers (plus, a supreme scope rifle). It's cool, exploding big bugs with hand grenades and stepping into an SUV-size man suit (a "Vital Suit") equipped with machine guns and hover rockets.
There is one Hot Dumb commonality "Lost Planet" cannot avoid, because all games are like this: Its challenges seem difficult at first. But once you figure out what you're supposed to do on a given map of alien-rampaging, the violence becomes easy, if cheesy.
And after all, what defines a good game is not dialogue or originality but game play. It's fun to dance with. Just because you've dated similar, luxurious-haired, 25-percent Asian Hot Dumbs doesn't mean this Hot Dumb won't impress you with luster and fast moves.
("Lost Planet" for Xbox 360 -- Plays fun despite being very typical of the sci-fi genre. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "T" for animated blood, mild language and violence. Three stars out of four.)
I got the Police and Van Halen back together ... uh, what?
By Doug Elfman
The Chicago Sun-Times
I'd like to take credit for this year's reunion tours by the Police and "Diamond" David Lee Roth's Van Halen. Last month, Sting performed a musical press conference for TV critics, and I told him what I didn't think he knew.
I informed him a lot of music fans believe the resurrections of those two bands are "maybe the two big reunions the world is waiting for."
"Really?" Sting said, then joked, "I'll join Van Halen."
(Obviously the Beatles and Led Zeppelin, among others, would be bigger reunions. But they have dead guys.)
My exchange with Sting was reported around the nation, and -- wouldn't you know it -- weeks later, the Police and the Roth version of Van Halen announced future gigs.
(You're welcome.)
The Police are performing at the Grammys on Sunday. On Monday, the band's expected to announce tour dates. Word on the street is they might do Wrigley Field July 5-6.
In answer to my questions, Sting did say he, Stewart Copeland and Andy Summers had already been discussing doing "something," since 2007 is the 30th anniversary of the birth of their band.
"Last year," I said to Sting, "I was talking to Stewart Copeland, and he said the last time that you played together, he said, 'We should do this again on a tour.' And he says that you said, 'Never say never.' But in retrospect he thinks what you meant was 'Never. Say never.'
"Do you hate them with a blind passion?" I asked.
"Absolutely not," Sting responded. "I'm deeply, deeply fond of both of them. I'm very proud of the band that we were in. I left the band because I felt I wanted to grow as a musician, to mature as a musician and to try more things than a band is able to do. ... Definitely no hate. The opposite."
Sting also has a hit solo album. It's on the, um, traditional classical charts. "Songs From the Labyrinth" is Sting and Edin Karamazov playing lute songs that were "hits" 400 years ago, romantic and tragic songs composed by English musician John Dowland. Sting's renditions have spent months at the top of that chart.
He has also visually recorded an intimate acoustic performance of "Labyrinth" for a special airing Feb. 26 on PBS.
Sting, ever the Englishman and former teacher, had been aware of Dowland's music. Karamazov convinced him to try recording some of the songs.
"We made the record just out of curiosity and love, with no idea that we could have a No. 1 record," Sting said.
The album is melancholy.
"Melancholy is often confused with depression," Sting said. "Depression is a serious clinical disease many people suffer from. Melancholy is something different."
Melancholy "comes from self-reflection, comes from thinking about the state of the world and one's position in it, and why we're here. I think we need more self-reflection in this time. All of us, from the president on down, need to reflect."
But "Labyrinth" isn't all doom and gloom.
" 'Come Again' [is a] very dirty song, actually, if you investigate it. He's singing about sex in an extremely modern way," Sting said. "I felt from reading the text and listening to the melody that it perhaps could be treated more personally, a little more sensuously, a little more wet, you know?"
Another critic asked Sting if he worried one of his pop music peers would beat him to the punch and put out his or her own lute album.
Sting didn't even pause.
"You haven't heard Van Halen's version."
The Chicago Sun-Times
I'd like to take credit for this year's reunion tours by the Police and "Diamond" David Lee Roth's Van Halen. Last month, Sting performed a musical press conference for TV critics, and I told him what I didn't think he knew.
I informed him a lot of music fans believe the resurrections of those two bands are "maybe the two big reunions the world is waiting for."
"Really?" Sting said, then joked, "I'll join Van Halen."
(Obviously the Beatles and Led Zeppelin, among others, would be bigger reunions. But they have dead guys.)
My exchange with Sting was reported around the nation, and -- wouldn't you know it -- weeks later, the Police and the Roth version of Van Halen announced future gigs.
(You're welcome.)
The Police are performing at the Grammys on Sunday. On Monday, the band's expected to announce tour dates. Word on the street is they might do Wrigley Field July 5-6.
In answer to my questions, Sting did say he, Stewart Copeland and Andy Summers had already been discussing doing "something," since 2007 is the 30th anniversary of the birth of their band.
"Last year," I said to Sting, "I was talking to Stewart Copeland, and he said the last time that you played together, he said, 'We should do this again on a tour.' And he says that you said, 'Never say never.' But in retrospect he thinks what you meant was 'Never. Say never.'
"Do you hate them with a blind passion?" I asked.
"Absolutely not," Sting responded. "I'm deeply, deeply fond of both of them. I'm very proud of the band that we were in. I left the band because I felt I wanted to grow as a musician, to mature as a musician and to try more things than a band is able to do. ... Definitely no hate. The opposite."
Sting also has a hit solo album. It's on the, um, traditional classical charts. "Songs From the Labyrinth" is Sting and Edin Karamazov playing lute songs that were "hits" 400 years ago, romantic and tragic songs composed by English musician John Dowland. Sting's renditions have spent months at the top of that chart.
He has also visually recorded an intimate acoustic performance of "Labyrinth" for a special airing Feb. 26 on PBS.
Sting, ever the Englishman and former teacher, had been aware of Dowland's music. Karamazov convinced him to try recording some of the songs.
"We made the record just out of curiosity and love, with no idea that we could have a No. 1 record," Sting said.
The album is melancholy.
"Melancholy is often confused with depression," Sting said. "Depression is a serious clinical disease many people suffer from. Melancholy is something different."
Melancholy "comes from self-reflection, comes from thinking about the state of the world and one's position in it, and why we're here. I think we need more self-reflection in this time. All of us, from the president on down, need to reflect."
But "Labyrinth" isn't all doom and gloom.
" 'Come Again' [is a] very dirty song, actually, if you investigate it. He's singing about sex in an extremely modern way," Sting said. "I felt from reading the text and listening to the melody that it perhaps could be treated more personally, a little more sensuously, a little more wet, you know?"
Another critic asked Sting if he worried one of his pop music peers would beat him to the punch and put out his or her own lute album.
Sting didn't even pause.
"You haven't heard Van Halen's version."
Readers respond to Bros and ho's
I cannot believe that you think that "Brothers & Sisters" is not a good program. Everyone at the office where I work loves the show. I guess when you are a TV critic, you see things different than just the plain old people who like shows because they are entertaining and enjoyable. If "Two and a Half Men" and "Reba" can stay on TV, then surely "Brothers & Sisters" should.
Anne
I am so tired of "CSI"-type shows and "Law & Order" and all the other shows that just show violence. Or, on the other hand, we could watch all the tasteless, stupid reality shows -- what a waste of TV space. "Brothers & Sisters" portrays the life of a dysfunctional family that is enjoyable to me. As a senior citizen, I'd like to see more shows that have a family-oriented theme: sometimes funny, sometimes sad and sometimes very touching.
Lorraine
I am often at the whim of my wife, who exposes me to such tripe as "Brothers & Sisters." If there is one thing more aggravating than a pseudo-soft comedy that isn't one damn bit funny, it's one that feels it's much smarter than the viewer. I am not sure what these producers think the real world sounds like, but it ain't this.
T.
I read your interview with Sally Field, where she stated, "I haven't seen anybody really explore this territory -- certainly not in American film or television ..." Apparently she never saw "Judging Amy." Tyne Daly brilliantly portrayed a woman with issues involving adult children, aging, her own rich life, etc., and the writing was topnotch, at least in the early years. I think Sally Field is an excellent actress, but in this case she's not breaking new ground.
Susan
Anne
I am so tired of "CSI"-type shows and "Law & Order" and all the other shows that just show violence. Or, on the other hand, we could watch all the tasteless, stupid reality shows -- what a waste of TV space. "Brothers & Sisters" portrays the life of a dysfunctional family that is enjoyable to me. As a senior citizen, I'd like to see more shows that have a family-oriented theme: sometimes funny, sometimes sad and sometimes very touching.
Lorraine
I am often at the whim of my wife, who exposes me to such tripe as "Brothers & Sisters." If there is one thing more aggravating than a pseudo-soft comedy that isn't one damn bit funny, it's one that feels it's much smarter than the viewer. I am not sure what these producers think the real world sounds like, but it ain't this.
T.
I read your interview with Sally Field, where she stated, "I haven't seen anybody really explore this territory -- certainly not in American film or television ..." Apparently she never saw "Judging Amy." Tyne Daly brilliantly portrayed a woman with issues involving adult children, aging, her own rich life, etc., and the writing was topnotch, at least in the early years. I think Sally Field is an excellent actress, but in this case she's not breaking new ground.
Susan
Sally Field interview
Bad as it is, "Brothers & Sisters" is blessedly rare in that it focuses quite a bit on a character as old as Sally Field, who plays the matriarch, Nora. Both Nora and Field are 60. That's not ancient. But TV abhors the aging process.
I talked to Field a few weeks ago, and I agreed with everything she said about this subject.
"I love that they're showing a grown-up woman -- a grown-up adult mother, with grown-up adult children -- and how complicated it is," Field said.
Yes.
"I haven't seen anybody really explore this territory ... certainly not in American film or television," she said. "Nora's character is, like, being a woman baby boomer heading into her 60s with grown-up children, with a life to begin again" as a widow.
Correct.
Women her age walk up to Field in public and thank her for portraying women like them.
"This is," she said, "absolutely about them."
Now if only the show can stop sucking, everything would be great.
I talked to Field a few weeks ago, and I agreed with everything she said about this subject.
"I love that they're showing a grown-up woman -- a grown-up adult mother, with grown-up adult children -- and how complicated it is," Field said.
Yes.
"I haven't seen anybody really explore this territory ... certainly not in American film or television," she said. "Nora's character is, like, being a woman baby boomer heading into her 60s with grown-up children, with a life to begin again" as a widow.
Correct.
Women her age walk up to Field in public and thank her for portraying women like them.
"This is," she said, "absolutely about them."
Now if only the show can stop sucking, everything would be great.
Bros and ho's
What a strange world most of us are missing out on. Apparently, if you live in a big mansion -- like the family in "Brothers & Sisters" -- you often grab an uncle or a U.S. senator and whisk him to a secret room for a chat. You may suggest to the senator you want to bone him but you're on a "man fast."
And your mom uses real words in fake ways. She tells her ill son on the phone, "Tommy, just come here. The last thing you want to do is get Julie and the fetus sick."
Man fast? Fetus? What the hell is going on here?
"Brothers & Sisters" is a bizarre amalgamation. It's a political show. Everyone in the family is a very outspoken Democrat or Republican. But mostly they're dealing with sexual famine, indiscretions and scandal (the dead patriarch cheated sexually and financially before he croaked).
This show aspires to be a whimsical comedy about dramatic interiors. But "Brothers & Sisters" reminds me of daytime soap operas my grandma watched (all that melodramatic conflict) and teen comedies (unlikely scenarios that make people look awkward).
It's like "All My Children Eat American Pie."
"American Pie"? Yes. In the last episode, Sarah (Rachel Griffiths) and her man Joe (John Pyper-Ferguson) taped themselves doing it on the same videotape they were using to record a tribute for their mom's 60th birthday.
Sound dumb yet? Just you wait.
The sex tape was put on DVD and (whoops!) accidentally shown at the old mom's birthday party. (Gasp!) Joe couldn't find the darned "stop" button on the remote control. Evidently rich, successful people can't work DVD players.
This can only be an ABC show. Its sensibilities are feminine, which is great, though you get a lot of Calista Flockhart saying "Sex and the City" stuff such as "If my shoes could talk!"
But the music score never -- never! -- stops telescoping the feeling of a light and airy Halcion haze. It's the most cloying, pizzicato loop imaginable, as grating as the music in ABC's "Desperate Housewives" and "Grey's Anatomy." Why does this network think women can't watch scenes without awful music scores?
This heinous, horrible, hideous sound of synthesizers is also destroying the hard work of actors, directors, lighting technicians -- you name it. And this is no cast to waste: Sally Field, Griffiths, Flockhart, Ron Rifkin and on and on.
On the birthday episode, Marion Ross did a guest-acting part as the mother of the 60-year-old mom, Nora (Field). At first, Ross had to deliver the worst "All My Children Eat American Pie" dialogue, telling her gay grandson -- whom she didn't know was gay, of course -- that she'd date him if she were younger.
But after that, Ross was vulnerable in a scene where she cried and dug into truths of her character. She was remarkable. But her deep acting was masked by the constant hypnosis of bouncy little music, which is supposed to comfort the viewer, like: Oh, everything's going to be just fine -- and silly again! -- very soon.
Also, Rob Lowe has joined the cast. The onetime star of his own sex tape, he's now a solid actor, which clearly signals a coming apocalypse.
And your mom uses real words in fake ways. She tells her ill son on the phone, "Tommy, just come here. The last thing you want to do is get Julie and the fetus sick."
Man fast? Fetus? What the hell is going on here?
"Brothers & Sisters" is a bizarre amalgamation. It's a political show. Everyone in the family is a very outspoken Democrat or Republican. But mostly they're dealing with sexual famine, indiscretions and scandal (the dead patriarch cheated sexually and financially before he croaked).
This show aspires to be a whimsical comedy about dramatic interiors. But "Brothers & Sisters" reminds me of daytime soap operas my grandma watched (all that melodramatic conflict) and teen comedies (unlikely scenarios that make people look awkward).
It's like "All My Children Eat American Pie."
"American Pie"? Yes. In the last episode, Sarah (Rachel Griffiths) and her man Joe (John Pyper-Ferguson) taped themselves doing it on the same videotape they were using to record a tribute for their mom's 60th birthday.
Sound dumb yet? Just you wait.
The sex tape was put on DVD and (whoops!) accidentally shown at the old mom's birthday party. (Gasp!) Joe couldn't find the darned "stop" button on the remote control. Evidently rich, successful people can't work DVD players.
This can only be an ABC show. Its sensibilities are feminine, which is great, though you get a lot of Calista Flockhart saying "Sex and the City" stuff such as "If my shoes could talk!"
But the music score never -- never! -- stops telescoping the feeling of a light and airy Halcion haze. It's the most cloying, pizzicato loop imaginable, as grating as the music in ABC's "Desperate Housewives" and "Grey's Anatomy." Why does this network think women can't watch scenes without awful music scores?
This heinous, horrible, hideous sound of synthesizers is also destroying the hard work of actors, directors, lighting technicians -- you name it. And this is no cast to waste: Sally Field, Griffiths, Flockhart, Ron Rifkin and on and on.
On the birthday episode, Marion Ross did a guest-acting part as the mother of the 60-year-old mom, Nora (Field). At first, Ross had to deliver the worst "All My Children Eat American Pie" dialogue, telling her gay grandson -- whom she didn't know was gay, of course -- that she'd date him if she were younger.
But after that, Ross was vulnerable in a scene where she cried and dug into truths of her character. She was remarkable. But her deep acting was masked by the constant hypnosis of bouncy little music, which is supposed to comfort the viewer, like: Oh, everything's going to be just fine -- and silly again! -- very soon.
Also, Rob Lowe has joined the cast. The onetime star of his own sex tape, he's now a solid actor, which clearly signals a coming apocalypse.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
The writers of 'Lost'
Click that headline there if you want to see video of the Lost writers coming up with the show's premise. (Adult language!)
The truth about 'Lost'
February 4, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
The other night, I was remembering when, as a music critic, I had to review Britney Spears. I realized something startling: Even the moronic Britney has experienced more character growth in the last three years than the hit series "Lost."
Think about her arc since about '04: Spears has altered her tours (for the worse), developed her music (slightly less awful) and she went from pure virgin to party slut to pregnant.
"Lost," on the other hand, has evolved about as much as "Gilligan's Island." The castaways are still stranded. Nothing substantial has changed.
And fans will not get answers to "Lost's" supernatural MacGuffins for a long time. At recent press conferences, producers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse said they want to keep their secrets until the show ends.
When's that?
"If it was 11 or 15 years, God, we really hope that we're doing something different by then," Lindelof said. "But if we get to tell the story that we want to tell, in the time we think it should be told, we're the guys that absolutely want to do it."
Eleven years?!?!?!
If you suffer the delusion you will get resolutions from "Lost" before the end of the series, listen to Cuse: "If we started really giving answers about what is the nature of this island, what is the sort of innate underlying meaning of the numbers, those things are sort of series-ending questions."
So there you go, "Lost" fans. Have fun waiting, possibly until the year 2018, for writers to have the guts to end overall mysteries, then see if the character dramas are good enough to stand on their own. (They probably would be.)
After airing six new episodes in the fall, "Lost" took a winter break and returns anew this week. I won't divulge anything big. It's just like any "Lost" episode -- a staring match between disinterested idiots, plus sporadic violence.
One new scene looks stolen from "A Clockwork Orange," just as last fall's killing of Mr. Eko was eerily similar to a scene from "Evil Dead 2: Dead By Dawn" -- death by a cloud of smoke in the shape of a tree-size arm.
I used to hear fans guess about what the island is. But after autumn's frustrating episodes, the "Lost" backlash is now in full swing. It was the No. 1 show that became unwatchable last year, according to the fan-interactive site JumpTheShark.com.
Of those old fan theories, the most convincing one has strandees as subjects of a grand experiment carried out by a mysterious entity: an omnipotent force, an evil corporation or something.
My theory is this: Lindelof is conducting an experiment to see how long he can jerk around viewers while getting money from ABC.
In its third year, here are just a few of the show's unresolved issues:
• Why is there a polar bear on a warm island?
• What entity is controlling the castaways?
• How can a cloud turn into a huge arm and kill a man?
• Oh, and there are ghosts of people who are still alive, like in "Scooby Doo." What's up with that?
Ree. Diculous.
I've been wondering why viewers stick with "Lost." I mean, the cinematography can be gorgeous. The actors are fine. The flashbacks are rich. But all this glory is infuriatingly ruined by idiotic dialogue and go-nowhere mysteries.
I think many fans are trying so hard to figure out how any detail is a clue to the larger mysteries that they're not really watching "Lost." This isn't a viewing experience. It's like doing Sudoku.
Another appalling development is that Lindelof confessed he's intentionally keeping his characters from asking realistic questions. No one on the island ever seems to ask the Others, who appear to understand everything, what the hell is going on.
"As writers, the questions that the characters are asking on the show are always a slippery slope," Lindelof said. "We find ourselves saying, 'We'd be asking much better questions, too.'
"Unfortunately, if Jack asked the questions that we wanted him to, the Others would answer none of them. So you would just have him asking a string of questions with Michael sort of looking back at him stoically."
Lindelof understands he's ticking off a lot of people: "The audience doesn't feel they're getting answers to mysteries in the time allotted."
No kidding.
"I think the characters on the show experience in many ways the same frustrations that the fans and the critics do," Lindelof said. "Why don't the characters talk more amongst each other about the mystery of the island?
"The reality is, we've written those scenes and in some cases we even shoot those scenes. And whether you take our word for it or not, we think they don't work; they're incredibly boring."
You know what's boring? The first six episodes that ran in the fall. Co-producer Carlton Cuse feebly explained them this way: "We had to service the story of Jack and Kate and Sawyer in captivity. By the time we sort of did that, we ran out of time to do a lot of other stuff in those first six [episodes]."
Really? Six hours is what it took to tell the story of two people in cages in the rain and a third guy in a prison cell? Pathetic.
I believe Lindelof has no idea where he's taking "Lost." Lindelof addressed this concern, but he didn't win me over.
" 'Lost' came together very, very quickly. During that period of time it was all we could do to write the outline, write the pilot, put the cast together and begin to have preliminary conversations."
He said those conversations were about, "What is this island? Who are these people? If Kate's in handcuffs, we need to know what Kate did. If Locke has a secret, we need to know what that secret is. If we show a polar bear, we need to know where the polar bear came from."
But he added, "To say we know everything we're going to do in advance would be completely disingenuous and probably stupid as a writer/producer because you have to be able to adapt to sort of the changing currents."
Here's where Cuse and Lindelof's arrogance is painful to listen to. Cuse said "Lost" lost viewers because "this show requires sort of vigilant maintenance.
"There are people who fall away because it does require you to really keep up on the episodes. It's a complicated show. It's hard to drop in and out," Cuse said.
So if viewers are frustrated with the series' lack of plot progress, it's the viewers' fault for not bowing down to the genius brains of the producers?
I stand by what I've said before. I can't wait for "Lost" to get canceled. Then, the writers will be forced to give answers. I will resume caring about "Lost" at that point of resolutions, I imagine, and not a moment sooner.
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN
Chicago Sun-Times
The other night, I was remembering when, as a music critic, I had to review Britney Spears. I realized something startling: Even the moronic Britney has experienced more character growth in the last three years than the hit series "Lost."
Think about her arc since about '04: Spears has altered her tours (for the worse), developed her music (slightly less awful) and she went from pure virgin to party slut to pregnant.
"Lost," on the other hand, has evolved about as much as "Gilligan's Island." The castaways are still stranded. Nothing substantial has changed.
And fans will not get answers to "Lost's" supernatural MacGuffins for a long time. At recent press conferences, producers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse said they want to keep their secrets until the show ends.
When's that?
"If it was 11 or 15 years, God, we really hope that we're doing something different by then," Lindelof said. "But if we get to tell the story that we want to tell, in the time we think it should be told, we're the guys that absolutely want to do it."
Eleven years?!?!?!
If you suffer the delusion you will get resolutions from "Lost" before the end of the series, listen to Cuse: "If we started really giving answers about what is the nature of this island, what is the sort of innate underlying meaning of the numbers, those things are sort of series-ending questions."
So there you go, "Lost" fans. Have fun waiting, possibly until the year 2018, for writers to have the guts to end overall mysteries, then see if the character dramas are good enough to stand on their own. (They probably would be.)
After airing six new episodes in the fall, "Lost" took a winter break and returns anew this week. I won't divulge anything big. It's just like any "Lost" episode -- a staring match between disinterested idiots, plus sporadic violence.
One new scene looks stolen from "A Clockwork Orange," just as last fall's killing of Mr. Eko was eerily similar to a scene from "Evil Dead 2: Dead By Dawn" -- death by a cloud of smoke in the shape of a tree-size arm.
I used to hear fans guess about what the island is. But after autumn's frustrating episodes, the "Lost" backlash is now in full swing. It was the No. 1 show that became unwatchable last year, according to the fan-interactive site JumpTheShark.com.
Of those old fan theories, the most convincing one has strandees as subjects of a grand experiment carried out by a mysterious entity: an omnipotent force, an evil corporation or something.
My theory is this: Lindelof is conducting an experiment to see how long he can jerk around viewers while getting money from ABC.
In its third year, here are just a few of the show's unresolved issues:
• Why is there a polar bear on a warm island?
• What entity is controlling the castaways?
• How can a cloud turn into a huge arm and kill a man?
• Oh, and there are ghosts of people who are still alive, like in "Scooby Doo." What's up with that?
Ree. Diculous.
I've been wondering why viewers stick with "Lost." I mean, the cinematography can be gorgeous. The actors are fine. The flashbacks are rich. But all this glory is infuriatingly ruined by idiotic dialogue and go-nowhere mysteries.
I think many fans are trying so hard to figure out how any detail is a clue to the larger mysteries that they're not really watching "Lost." This isn't a viewing experience. It's like doing Sudoku.
Another appalling development is that Lindelof confessed he's intentionally keeping his characters from asking realistic questions. No one on the island ever seems to ask the Others, who appear to understand everything, what the hell is going on.
"As writers, the questions that the characters are asking on the show are always a slippery slope," Lindelof said. "We find ourselves saying, 'We'd be asking much better questions, too.'
"Unfortunately, if Jack asked the questions that we wanted him to, the Others would answer none of them. So you would just have him asking a string of questions with Michael sort of looking back at him stoically."
Lindelof understands he's ticking off a lot of people: "The audience doesn't feel they're getting answers to mysteries in the time allotted."
No kidding.
"I think the characters on the show experience in many ways the same frustrations that the fans and the critics do," Lindelof said. "Why don't the characters talk more amongst each other about the mystery of the island?
"The reality is, we've written those scenes and in some cases we even shoot those scenes. And whether you take our word for it or not, we think they don't work; they're incredibly boring."
You know what's boring? The first six episodes that ran in the fall. Co-producer Carlton Cuse feebly explained them this way: "We had to service the story of Jack and Kate and Sawyer in captivity. By the time we sort of did that, we ran out of time to do a lot of other stuff in those first six [episodes]."
Really? Six hours is what it took to tell the story of two people in cages in the rain and a third guy in a prison cell? Pathetic.
I believe Lindelof has no idea where he's taking "Lost." Lindelof addressed this concern, but he didn't win me over.
" 'Lost' came together very, very quickly. During that period of time it was all we could do to write the outline, write the pilot, put the cast together and begin to have preliminary conversations."
He said those conversations were about, "What is this island? Who are these people? If Kate's in handcuffs, we need to know what Kate did. If Locke has a secret, we need to know what that secret is. If we show a polar bear, we need to know where the polar bear came from."
But he added, "To say we know everything we're going to do in advance would be completely disingenuous and probably stupid as a writer/producer because you have to be able to adapt to sort of the changing currents."
Here's where Cuse and Lindelof's arrogance is painful to listen to. Cuse said "Lost" lost viewers because "this show requires sort of vigilant maintenance.
"There are people who fall away because it does require you to really keep up on the episodes. It's a complicated show. It's hard to drop in and out," Cuse said.
So if viewers are frustrated with the series' lack of plot progress, it's the viewers' fault for not bowing down to the genius brains of the producers?
I stand by what I've said before. I can't wait for "Lost" to get canceled. Then, the writers will be forced to give answers. I will resume caring about "Lost" at that point of resolutions, I imagine, and not a moment sooner.
delfman@suntimes.com