By DOUG ELFMAN
The Game Dork
Friday, November 16, 2007
There's no shame in poverty, but there's no money in it, either.
And buying video game stuff for holiday gift-giving can require lots of cash. This irritates me, since I remember what it was like growing up poor.
So I'm splitting this year's gift guide into two categories. One is for cash-strapped gift-buyers. Another is for people flush with cash. Happy holidays, players!
Low on funds?
Go to a used-game store like EB Games, GameCrazy or GameStop, where you can find a "refurbished" Nintendo DS ($80) for a kid younger than 10 or for a newbie gamer who likes puzzle games, which are available in abundance.
If you're shopping for a hard-core gaming teen or adult, you might want to go instead with a refurbished PlayStation 2 ($80) or hand-held PSP ($130).
Refurbished machines are used but spruced up at factories, as dependable as new. Do not buy an old Xbox (which is the pre-360 Xbox). No one's making games for the original Xbox ($80) anymore.
Next, you need games. You can sift through used-game bins for $2 to $20 bargains. Used games always work. And if your gift receivers don't like the titles you pick, they can usually exchange them, no fuss.
Instead of buying, it might be cheaper to rent games from stores like Blockbuster or Hollywood Video, for just a few dollars for weeklong rentals. Video stores offer gift cards for renting.
Another pricier but cooler option is GameFly.com. It's like Netflix for games. GameFly mails games you pick out online. Cost: $16 per month to rent one game at a time; $23 a month to rent two games at a time.
Money to spare?
For a hard-core gamer, buy the new Xbox 360 Elite ($450) if your gamer doesn't already own an Xbox 360. Check out store ads in the newspaper. You'll see that some offer Elite bundles with free games or other extras.
If you're buying for an online gamer, you can't go wrong with a one-year Xbox Live subscription card ($50).
If you want to get someone a second system, the PSP ($170) is my favorite, since it's like holding a PS2 in your fingers. The DS Lite ($130) is great for kids and fans of puzzle games. But the trendy system is, of course, the Nintendo Wii ($250, or up to $500 as a multigame bundle). The interactive system thrills female and kid gamers en masse. Supplies are good. This season, you should be able to actually get your hands on one in a store.
Personally, I'm falling in love with the Sony PlayStation 3 ($500 for the 80 gig; $400 for the lacking 40 gig). It's a stronger computer than the Xbox 360 and Wii. It plays Blu-Ray and DVD movies, plus PS2 games. And PS3's online gaming is free, as opposed to the fee-based Xbox Live.
The bad thing is the PS3 isn't selling great, so its future is relatively weaker than Xbox 360. The problem: there aren't tons of great PS3 games yet. And games released for multiple systems usually take weeks or months longer to hit the PS3 than the Xbox 360.
Doug Elfman is a TV columnist for Chicago Sun-Times. Game Dork appears biweekly.
Buzz games
Here's the year's hot titles -- just make sure your gamer doesn't already own them:
* "Guitar Hero III" for Xbox 360, PS3, PS2, Wii (guitar simulator, rated T for teen)
* "Rock Band" for Xbox 360, PS3 (and PS2 mid-December) (guitar, singing and drum simulator, T); be careful, this one's $170 for a full bundle.
* "Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare" for Xbox 360, PS3, DS (war, rated M for mature)
* "Assassin's Creed" for Xbox 360, PS3 (action-adventure, M)
* "Super Mario Galaxy" for Wii (action-adventure, E for everyone)
* "BlackSite: Area 51" for Xbox Live (shooter, T)
* "Mass Effect" for Xbox 360 (action role-playing game, M)
* "Ratchet & Clank Future: Tools of Destruction" for PS3 (action, E 10+ for everyone 10 and older)
* "WWE Smackdown! Vs. Raw 2008" for Xbox 360, Wii, PS3, DS (wrestling, T)
* "Rayman Raving Rabbids 2" for Wii, DS (mini-games, E 10+)
* "The Simpsons Game" for Xbox 360, PS3, Wii, PS2, DS (adventure, T)
* "Manhunt 2" for PSP (horror, less great for PS2, Wii, M)
More can't miss games
"God of War 2" for PS 2 (action-adventure, rated M)
"NBA 2K8" for Xbox 360, PS 3, PS 2 (basketball, E)
"Resident Evil 4" for Wii (horror, M)
"Shadowrun" (shooting, awesome only in online gaming, M)
"Major League Baseball 2K7" for Xbox 360, PS 3, PS 2, PSP, DS (baseball, E)
"MotorStorm" for PS 3 (off-road racing, online especially, T)
"Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon Advanced Warfighter 2" for Xbox 360, PS 3, PSP (shooter, T)
"Super Paper Mario" for Wii (action-adventure, E)
"Halo 3" for Xbox 360 (action-adventure, M)
"BioShock" for Xbox 360 (horror action, M)
"Medal of Honor: Airborne" for Xbox 360 (war, T)
"Tiger Woods PGA Tour '08" (golf, E)
"Syphon Filter: Logan's Shadow" for PSP (shooter, T)
"Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six Vegas" (shooter, especially online, M)
"The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion" for PS 3 (fantasy action, M)
"Skate" for Xbox 360, PS 3 (skateboarding, T)
"Crackdown" for Xbox 360 (shooter, M)
"SSX Blur" for Wii (snowboarding, E)
"New York Times Crossword" for DS (puzzles, T)
"MLB '07 The Show" for Xbox 360, PS 3 (baseball, E)
"Nervous Brickdown" for DS (puzzles, E)
Friday, November 23, 2007
New releases have gamers rescue universe from terrorists, aliens, mushrooms
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Nov. 23, 2007
As harmless small stars fell, like candy from a pocket in the sky, onto Mario's idyllic town, his longtime love, Princess Peach, waited joyfully for him in her castle. But like so many tragedies that befell Peach before, Bowser the brute swooped in and kidnapped her.
And so, nothing short of Mario's saving the universe will lead to her emotional rescue. That's how Mario tales wag. The damsel in distress is most in peril whenever her mustachioed hero is away.
But in Wii's "Super Mario Galaxy," Nintendo's crafty gamesmanship once again makes a familiar-looking Mario game seem like one of the best kids' titles of its year.
Mario (in your hands) explores fiery and watery planets in distant galaxies. There's nothing special about that. But the way you travel the universe is cool and new.
Planets are little things, appearing in the center of your TV screen as if they're just large globes. They're merely the sizes of an Earth house or an Earth neighborhood.
This keeps you on your toes. It's harder to avoid death when you're walking and jumping upside-down, sideways and diagonally around a violent orb.
The usual cutesy Nintendo villains try to snuff you out: Mushrooms squint cruel eyes at you; toothy giant flowers attempt to smash you with heavy heads.
I have to disclose I didn't finish "Galaxy" before writing this review. I ran out of time while playing it and two other great new releases -- each of which could take 20 hours just to speed through -- so I can give you impressions of all three titles, in time for holiday shopping.
The other two superb games will appeal to hard-core gamers who love to shoot things to death.
"Mass Effect" is an action-role playing game from BioWare, the maker of fun "Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic" and "Jade Empire."
The look of "Mass Effect" is a cinematic feat. Like cinema, you watch the game's graphic films just about as often as you play the game. Sci-fi soldiers and aliens from the 22nd century chat gravely about a complex political and military struggle. You pick your responses during these conversations, issuing snippets of curt dialogue such as "What did you find?" and "Why is Williams here?"
Yeah, that's odd, but fans of role-playing games eat this stuff up. The fun comes from saving the universe by shooting evil robot-looking aliens, or whatever, across space stations, foreign planets and finely detailed capitols.
As shooting goes, though, my favorite war game in a while (especially online) is "Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare" on Xbox 360 and PS 3. Bad guys are terrorists (a little heavy on the Arabic, if you ask me). And the game play and illustrations are excellent, seamless and rich.
I just shot two guys in the back, in a dingy makeshift war zone littered with blown-up buses and fences, after I sniper-rifled a loser in his torso. I have to say I feel pretty good about that.
So there you go. You can save the universe from terrorists in "Modern Warfare," or from aliens in "Mass Effect" or from mean mushrooms in "Galaxy." God bless America and its violent choices.
("Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 and PS 3; $30 for DS -- Plays very fun, especially online. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, intense violence, strong language. Four stars out of four.)
("Mass Effect" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 -- Plays fun. Looks stellar. Moderately challenging. Rated "M" for blood, language, partial nudity, sexual themes, violence. Four stars.)
("Super Mario Galaxy" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays fun. Looks very good. Easy to moderately challenging. Rated "E" for mild cartoon violence. Four stars.)
The Game Dork
Nov. 23, 2007
As harmless small stars fell, like candy from a pocket in the sky, onto Mario's idyllic town, his longtime love, Princess Peach, waited joyfully for him in her castle. But like so many tragedies that befell Peach before, Bowser the brute swooped in and kidnapped her.
And so, nothing short of Mario's saving the universe will lead to her emotional rescue. That's how Mario tales wag. The damsel in distress is most in peril whenever her mustachioed hero is away.
But in Wii's "Super Mario Galaxy," Nintendo's crafty gamesmanship once again makes a familiar-looking Mario game seem like one of the best kids' titles of its year.
Mario (in your hands) explores fiery and watery planets in distant galaxies. There's nothing special about that. But the way you travel the universe is cool and new.
Planets are little things, appearing in the center of your TV screen as if they're just large globes. They're merely the sizes of an Earth house or an Earth neighborhood.
This keeps you on your toes. It's harder to avoid death when you're walking and jumping upside-down, sideways and diagonally around a violent orb.
The usual cutesy Nintendo villains try to snuff you out: Mushrooms squint cruel eyes at you; toothy giant flowers attempt to smash you with heavy heads.
I have to disclose I didn't finish "Galaxy" before writing this review. I ran out of time while playing it and two other great new releases -- each of which could take 20 hours just to speed through -- so I can give you impressions of all three titles, in time for holiday shopping.
The other two superb games will appeal to hard-core gamers who love to shoot things to death.
"Mass Effect" is an action-role playing game from BioWare, the maker of fun "Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic" and "Jade Empire."
The look of "Mass Effect" is a cinematic feat. Like cinema, you watch the game's graphic films just about as often as you play the game. Sci-fi soldiers and aliens from the 22nd century chat gravely about a complex political and military struggle. You pick your responses during these conversations, issuing snippets of curt dialogue such as "What did you find?" and "Why is Williams here?"
Yeah, that's odd, but fans of role-playing games eat this stuff up. The fun comes from saving the universe by shooting evil robot-looking aliens, or whatever, across space stations, foreign planets and finely detailed capitols.
As shooting goes, though, my favorite war game in a while (especially online) is "Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare" on Xbox 360 and PS 3. Bad guys are terrorists (a little heavy on the Arabic, if you ask me). And the game play and illustrations are excellent, seamless and rich.
I just shot two guys in the back, in a dingy makeshift war zone littered with blown-up buses and fences, after I sniper-rifled a loser in his torso. I have to say I feel pretty good about that.
So there you go. You can save the universe from terrorists in "Modern Warfare," or from aliens in "Mass Effect" or from mean mushrooms in "Galaxy." God bless America and its violent choices.
("Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 and PS 3; $30 for DS -- Plays very fun, especially online. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, intense violence, strong language. Four stars out of four.)
("Mass Effect" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 -- Plays fun. Looks stellar. Moderately challenging. Rated "M" for blood, language, partial nudity, sexual themes, violence. Four stars.)
("Super Mario Galaxy" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays fun. Looks very good. Easy to moderately challenging. Rated "E" for mild cartoon violence. Four stars.)
'Manhunt 2' entertaining for those not offended by what others call crass
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Nov. 16, 2007
In the video game world (just like in films and TV), story lines offer heroes Six Justifications for Murder, so protagonists can kill people with moral rationalization. You see these killing excuses in "Manhunt 2," a game so gruesome Britain banned it.
Britain banned a fun game.
The plot is simple: You portray a bespectacled scientist named Danny who was institutionalized by a nefarious group conducting secret experiments. You escape by slaying people in dark alleys and grungy buildings.
The Six Justifications for Murder come in handy.
1. Self-defense: After hacking several villains with axes and shovels, the narrator says to you/Danny in a voice-over, "It was either them or you. Remember that!"
2. Vigilantism: After you stab a guy in the back of the head with a syringe, the narrator says, "You stopped him from harming others!"
3. Revenge: I don't want to give too much away on this plot point.
4. Obedience to authority: The insistent narrator urges at times, "Kill him!"
5. Collateral damage: If you desire, you can let certain people escape alive, but more likely you will kill them accidentally or on purpose, because they get in your way.
6. Body control: Someone uses drugs, the paranormal or mind control to cause you to kill.
For the entire nation of England to put the kibosh on "Manhunt 2" is, of course, an exercise in selective enforcement of anti-violence in art. "Manhunt 2" ranks about as violent as a collection of killing clips from "The Sopranos," which played on public TV in Britain.
"Manhunt 2" starts with Danny's sneaking behind an evil henchman and slipping a suffocating plastic bag over his head. Danny's vision blurs red.
"I killed him," Danny says. "I feel sick." Then he pukes.
From there on out, you creep behind bad guys, terminate them (sometimes by putting a gun in their mouths and pulling the trigger) and move on.
The ever-escalating panoply of weaponry at your fingertips begins with a syringe and the plastic bag, and advances to knives, meat hooks, baseball bats, crowbars, bricks, a pistol and a gun whose bullets set men on fire. Sometimes, you chop off heads with a fireman's axe, then carry the head around on your belt loop.
Yet for an adult hard-core gamer such as myself, "Manhunt 2" doesn't make me blink at its graphically interfaced "blood" and "guts." The only thing that surprised me was watching my pistol ammo blow red brains on a wall.
As in almost every violent game ever made, you are a good guy, or an antihero. Here, the killing can feel a bit like a one-trick pony: hide in a shadow, sneak, kill, repeat. But in Rockstar Games fashion, it's entertaining for those of us not offended by what others call crass.
What is crass? That's a subjective determination, you know. I didn't flinch at the possibly crass joke where, when you're offing a guy, he pleads, "Who'll feed my cats?" That just made logical sense, but I have cats.
("Manhunt 2" retails for $40 for Wii; $30 for PS 2, PSP -- Plays fun. Looks good. Moderately challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, intense violence, strong language, strong sexual content, use of drugs. Three stars out of four.)
The Game Dork
Nov. 16, 2007
In the video game world (just like in films and TV), story lines offer heroes Six Justifications for Murder, so protagonists can kill people with moral rationalization. You see these killing excuses in "Manhunt 2," a game so gruesome Britain banned it.
Britain banned a fun game.
The plot is simple: You portray a bespectacled scientist named Danny who was institutionalized by a nefarious group conducting secret experiments. You escape by slaying people in dark alleys and grungy buildings.
The Six Justifications for Murder come in handy.
1. Self-defense: After hacking several villains with axes and shovels, the narrator says to you/Danny in a voice-over, "It was either them or you. Remember that!"
2. Vigilantism: After you stab a guy in the back of the head with a syringe, the narrator says, "You stopped him from harming others!"
3. Revenge: I don't want to give too much away on this plot point.
4. Obedience to authority: The insistent narrator urges at times, "Kill him!"
5. Collateral damage: If you desire, you can let certain people escape alive, but more likely you will kill them accidentally or on purpose, because they get in your way.
6. Body control: Someone uses drugs, the paranormal or mind control to cause you to kill.
For the entire nation of England to put the kibosh on "Manhunt 2" is, of course, an exercise in selective enforcement of anti-violence in art. "Manhunt 2" ranks about as violent as a collection of killing clips from "The Sopranos," which played on public TV in Britain.
"Manhunt 2" starts with Danny's sneaking behind an evil henchman and slipping a suffocating plastic bag over his head. Danny's vision blurs red.
"I killed him," Danny says. "I feel sick." Then he pukes.
From there on out, you creep behind bad guys, terminate them (sometimes by putting a gun in their mouths and pulling the trigger) and move on.
The ever-escalating panoply of weaponry at your fingertips begins with a syringe and the plastic bag, and advances to knives, meat hooks, baseball bats, crowbars, bricks, a pistol and a gun whose bullets set men on fire. Sometimes, you chop off heads with a fireman's axe, then carry the head around on your belt loop.
Yet for an adult hard-core gamer such as myself, "Manhunt 2" doesn't make me blink at its graphically interfaced "blood" and "guts." The only thing that surprised me was watching my pistol ammo blow red brains on a wall.
As in almost every violent game ever made, you are a good guy, or an antihero. Here, the killing can feel a bit like a one-trick pony: hide in a shadow, sneak, kill, repeat. But in Rockstar Games fashion, it's entertaining for those of us not offended by what others call crass.
What is crass? That's a subjective determination, you know. I didn't flinch at the possibly crass joke where, when you're offing a guy, he pleads, "Who'll feed my cats?" That just made logical sense, but I have cats.
("Manhunt 2" retails for $40 for Wii; $30 for PS 2, PSP -- Plays fun. Looks good. Moderately challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, intense violence, strong language, strong sexual content, use of drugs. Three stars out of four.)
Shooting adventure 'BlackSite: Area 51' a fun, government-mocking escapade
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Nov. 09, 2007
Our government is taking flak not just in film, TV and music. Now it's being satirized to great effect in "BlackSite: Area 51." This fun shooting adventure mocks the unpopularity of the president and the Iraq war. It hints a draft lurks around the corner.
"BlackSite," being released Monday, is so subversive in a lighthearted way, the story line suggests government doctors are fusing space alien DNA with that of soldiers to turn them into super disgusting killers, who accidentally go on the loose.
It's up to you, the player, to portray an elite American soldier, trying to save our great land from ... us. You shoot machine guns, rocket launchers and plasma rifles to take down DNA-corrupted U.S. soldiers and big, ugly aliens running amok around Area 51.
But first, we begin with a back story in Iraq, where you shoot at people who are shooting at you on a makeshift battlefield at an oil refinery.
"Is everyone in this place armed?" So asks a soldier buddy of yours. "Who gives assault weapons to refinery workers?"
"Um," a fellow U.S. soldier responds. "I think they bought this (weaponry) from us," meaning the United States. "I hope they got some good money."
On and on, the statements roll. There's even a nod to the political tragedy of Hurricane Katrina, an allusion to how people in New Orleans thought the government would help them.
If you're familiar with video games, it's not terribly surprising to find one so anti-establishment. Game makers are a paranoid bunch. Two years ago, developers with a good sense of humor parodied the supposedly glorious 1950s by creating really repressed idiot Americans in "Destroy All Humans!" Also in 2005, the unrelated and awesome "Area 51" played on fears that the moon landing wasn't real.
Before the 2004 election, three Vietnam games reminded us of the parallels between Vietnam and Iraq, just when Vietnam vet John Kerry was failing in his bid for the White House.
Even "Call of Duty" World War II games flash forboding quotes on the screen, such as one by 15th century humanist Desiderius Erasmus in "Call of Duty 2": "War is delightful for those who have not experienced it."
Many war games are, by definition, implicitly pro-killing if not pro-establishment. Explicitly pro-establishment games are harder to come by. The big exceptions are "Tom Clancy" games, where villains are the liberal media and terrorists of various skin colors. "Clancy" titles are, by the way, quite fun.
Politics aside, Midway has delivered here an entertaining escapade. It's long and beautifully drawn, sending you scurrying to search and destroy through detailed trailer parks, Nevada neighborhoods and canals.
Online, you can tap into death matches, team death matches, capture the flags, and human vs. alien levels, where you try to slay alien-morphing humans before they corrupt you.
In offline solo missions, you save some civilians who refuse to leave their government-destroyed, alien-infested towns.
"Yeah, they told me to evacuate, but I'm up to my eyeballs in a mortgage for this place," a Nevada resident says.
A few seconds later, a two-story alien bursts from the ground and eats Mr. Mortgage. Regardless of politics, this is cool. Death is almost always cool in video games, no matter how wrong it's supposed to be, because killing is the nature of the beast.
("BlackSite: Area 51" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 -- Plays fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for blood, language, violence. Four stars out of four.)
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The Game Dork
Nov. 09, 2007
Our government is taking flak not just in film, TV and music. Now it's being satirized to great effect in "BlackSite: Area 51." This fun shooting adventure mocks the unpopularity of the president and the Iraq war. It hints a draft lurks around the corner.
"BlackSite," being released Monday, is so subversive in a lighthearted way, the story line suggests government doctors are fusing space alien DNA with that of soldiers to turn them into super disgusting killers, who accidentally go on the loose.
It's up to you, the player, to portray an elite American soldier, trying to save our great land from ... us. You shoot machine guns, rocket launchers and plasma rifles to take down DNA-corrupted U.S. soldiers and big, ugly aliens running amok around Area 51.
But first, we begin with a back story in Iraq, where you shoot at people who are shooting at you on a makeshift battlefield at an oil refinery.
"Is everyone in this place armed?" So asks a soldier buddy of yours. "Who gives assault weapons to refinery workers?"
"Um," a fellow U.S. soldier responds. "I think they bought this (weaponry) from us," meaning the United States. "I hope they got some good money."
On and on, the statements roll. There's even a nod to the political tragedy of Hurricane Katrina, an allusion to how people in New Orleans thought the government would help them.
If you're familiar with video games, it's not terribly surprising to find one so anti-establishment. Game makers are a paranoid bunch. Two years ago, developers with a good sense of humor parodied the supposedly glorious 1950s by creating really repressed idiot Americans in "Destroy All Humans!" Also in 2005, the unrelated and awesome "Area 51" played on fears that the moon landing wasn't real.
Before the 2004 election, three Vietnam games reminded us of the parallels between Vietnam and Iraq, just when Vietnam vet John Kerry was failing in his bid for the White House.
Even "Call of Duty" World War II games flash forboding quotes on the screen, such as one by 15th century humanist Desiderius Erasmus in "Call of Duty 2": "War is delightful for those who have not experienced it."
Many war games are, by definition, implicitly pro-killing if not pro-establishment. Explicitly pro-establishment games are harder to come by. The big exceptions are "Tom Clancy" games, where villains are the liberal media and terrorists of various skin colors. "Clancy" titles are, by the way, quite fun.
Politics aside, Midway has delivered here an entertaining escapade. It's long and beautifully drawn, sending you scurrying to search and destroy through detailed trailer parks, Nevada neighborhoods and canals.
Online, you can tap into death matches, team death matches, capture the flags, and human vs. alien levels, where you try to slay alien-morphing humans before they corrupt you.
In offline solo missions, you save some civilians who refuse to leave their government-destroyed, alien-infested towns.
"Yeah, they told me to evacuate, but I'm up to my eyeballs in a mortgage for this place," a Nevada resident says.
A few seconds later, a two-story alien bursts from the ground and eats Mr. Mortgage. Regardless of politics, this is cool. Death is almost always cool in video games, no matter how wrong it's supposed to be, because killing is the nature of the beast.
("BlackSite: Area 51" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 -- Plays fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for blood, language, violence. Four stars out of four.)
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'Simpsons' full of funny satire but borrows heavily from other games
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Nov. 02, 2007
The Simpsons Game" is fun, cute and fairly funny. But just like "Simspons" games have done in the past, this one tries to have it both ways. It's a satire of clichés and gaming styles found in other games; yet it simultaneously profits from using those exact same clichés and styles.
Just for starters, "The Simpsons" parodies (and "borrows") from "Frogger," "Grand Theft Auto," "Medal of Honor," "Everquest" and "Guitar Hero." One of the only fresh ideas is that sloshy, burpy Homer collects Duff beer caps.
You might think this amalgamation of homages is unoriginal, so to combat this notion, "The Simpsons Game" goes out of its way to mock the very game challenges it borrows, such as breakable crates, and standing on pressure pads to make doors open.
When you first encounter giant blades trying to kill you, the game stops for a moment so the comic book guy can appear on the screen to say, "Worst video game cliché ever."
But enough with my gripe. "Simpsons" is mostly an entertaining, if short, exploration of the "Simpsons" universe. The only real issue is camera angles can be iffy and frustrating.
You play in various double-teams as Bart, Homer, Marge and Lisa. At times, you crawl through tight spaces as baby Maggie, just like mechanical spiders did in EA Games' awesome "James Bond 007: Everything or Nothing."
EA made the "Simpsons," and designers pulled off another remarkable little job, offering a zippy, easy-to-manage "Simpsons" game with 16 episodes that makes use of two decades of "Simpsons" sets and characters.
Each episode is a quest. As Homer and Bart, you eat and punch your way through an eating contest in an Epcot-like theme park of international "countries." As Marge, you convince townspeople to join your angry Frankenstein mob, to demand the mayor ban a "Grand Theft Auto"-ish video game.
Each character has little powers that are actually more fun than they are endearing. Homer turns into a giant, destructive ball. Lisa blows a sax that stuns enemies, and her music entrances them to fight each other.
And there's some great satire of Mario, "Donkey Kong," "Street Fighter" and other classics. I laughed the most at seeing, in one background, a representation of speedy Sonic the Hedgehog looking very haggard while stuck on a kind of hamster wheel.
While playing as Bart and Lisa, they try to stop environment-destroying loggers who call them not just "tree huggers" but "Gore girls."
Funny and left-leaning, yes, but it's notable this is the overly marketed cartoon's 22nd video game. "The Simpsons" complains about capitalism, while capitalizing off of it. To wit, there are six different box covers for this game. For "Simpsons" collectors to own them all, they'd shell out $280 plus tax.
Yet, Bart snipes, "The only Simpsons game I can think of is the one where we pretend Dad's not an alcoholic."
Maybe "Simpsons" game No. 23 can send dad to rehab. I haven't seen that in other games, though, so don't count on it.
("The Simpsons Game" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 and PS 3; $50 for Wii; $40 for PS 2 and PSP; $30 for DS -- Plays fun. Looks very good. Easy to moderately challenging. Rated "T" for alcohol and tobacco reference, animated blood, cartoon violence, crude humor, language, suggestive themes. Three and one-half stars out of four.)
The Game Dork
Nov. 02, 2007
The Simpsons Game" is fun, cute and fairly funny. But just like "Simspons" games have done in the past, this one tries to have it both ways. It's a satire of clichés and gaming styles found in other games; yet it simultaneously profits from using those exact same clichés and styles.
Just for starters, "The Simpsons" parodies (and "borrows") from "Frogger," "Grand Theft Auto," "Medal of Honor," "Everquest" and "Guitar Hero." One of the only fresh ideas is that sloshy, burpy Homer collects Duff beer caps.
You might think this amalgamation of homages is unoriginal, so to combat this notion, "The Simpsons Game" goes out of its way to mock the very game challenges it borrows, such as breakable crates, and standing on pressure pads to make doors open.
When you first encounter giant blades trying to kill you, the game stops for a moment so the comic book guy can appear on the screen to say, "Worst video game cliché ever."
But enough with my gripe. "Simpsons" is mostly an entertaining, if short, exploration of the "Simpsons" universe. The only real issue is camera angles can be iffy and frustrating.
You play in various double-teams as Bart, Homer, Marge and Lisa. At times, you crawl through tight spaces as baby Maggie, just like mechanical spiders did in EA Games' awesome "James Bond 007: Everything or Nothing."
EA made the "Simpsons," and designers pulled off another remarkable little job, offering a zippy, easy-to-manage "Simpsons" game with 16 episodes that makes use of two decades of "Simpsons" sets and characters.
Each episode is a quest. As Homer and Bart, you eat and punch your way through an eating contest in an Epcot-like theme park of international "countries." As Marge, you convince townspeople to join your angry Frankenstein mob, to demand the mayor ban a "Grand Theft Auto"-ish video game.
Each character has little powers that are actually more fun than they are endearing. Homer turns into a giant, destructive ball. Lisa blows a sax that stuns enemies, and her music entrances them to fight each other.
And there's some great satire of Mario, "Donkey Kong," "Street Fighter" and other classics. I laughed the most at seeing, in one background, a representation of speedy Sonic the Hedgehog looking very haggard while stuck on a kind of hamster wheel.
While playing as Bart and Lisa, they try to stop environment-destroying loggers who call them not just "tree huggers" but "Gore girls."
Funny and left-leaning, yes, but it's notable this is the overly marketed cartoon's 22nd video game. "The Simpsons" complains about capitalism, while capitalizing off of it. To wit, there are six different box covers for this game. For "Simpsons" collectors to own them all, they'd shell out $280 plus tax.
Yet, Bart snipes, "The only Simpsons game I can think of is the one where we pretend Dad's not an alcoholic."
Maybe "Simpsons" game No. 23 can send dad to rehab. I haven't seen that in other games, though, so don't count on it.
("The Simpsons Game" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 and PS 3; $50 for Wii; $40 for PS 2 and PSP; $30 for DS -- Plays fun. Looks very good. Easy to moderately challenging. Rated "T" for alcohol and tobacco reference, animated blood, cartoon violence, crude humor, language, suggestive themes. Three and one-half stars out of four.)
Repetition the portent of doom for fantasy games
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Oct. 26, 2007
Nariko, the feisty fighter of "Heavenly Sword," is extra motivated to kill lots of nasties, while she's on her journey to punish their evil King Bohan. The king has kidnapped Nariko's father; there's nothing so wrathful as a warrior with daddy issues.
PlayStation 3's "Heavenly Sword" has piqued the interest of many male gamers because this heroine is a lovely young redhead whose dress seems to have made up its mind it will not cover the sides of her hips or the upper reaches of her chest plate.
Nariko is prophesied to save her kingdom. Here she is a female, and everyone in her village thought their savior was going be a dude.
"They said I was a portent of doom. Maybe they were right," she says in voice-over narration.
No, I bet "they" were wrong. Nariko slices and dices rival clan members of the king's allegiance. She bloodies them using a "Heavenly Sword" that must weigh what she weighs. It's enormous.
King Bohan wants to gain possession of that big bad blade, because it's magically powerful, like a "Lord of the Rings" ring. The point of the game: Can she defeat his majesty in all his jerky glory?
"Heavenly Sword" has been compared to the masterpiece "God of War" games, because it's a deliciously pretty action-adventure set in a grand, fantasy past of rope bridges and ornate castles.
But "Heavenly Sword" isn't nearly as fun as "God of War" titles. "God" games beg you to run quickly across vast lands, while sleekly slaughtering evil underlings, one or five at a time. However, "Heavenly's" journey is paced slower. Plus, she's constantly killing 20 people at a time, too quickly.
In other words, "Heavenly" blurs its beautiful action too much while standing still, and the hacking and slashing resembles "Ninja Gaiden" more than "God of War." "Ninja Gaiden" games are fun, but they suffer the same problem. Killing becomes routine button-mashing. Monster mashes are entertaining for a bit but they glaze the eyes.
Fantasy heroes in such games are always in search of a perfect sword, a doomed romance and a prophesy that proves they are The One.
Ergo, "Dragon Blade: Wrath of Fire" for the Wii also stars a prophesied hero of a guy who is poorly named Dal. His betrothed was killed by villains he seeks. (How romantically tragic.) He must slay six dragons and steal their powers, including their red fiery fists. Along the way, he beats up a forever-series of giant spiders, ram-headed bipeds wielding huge axes, and other nefarious scumbags.
The promise of "Dragon Blade" is in its Wii remote, not in the Wii's subpar visuals and sounds. You the gamer swing the wireless remote as you would a sword or fist, and Dag swings his weapons thusly.
But "Dragon Blade" settles into even more repetition than "Heavenly Sword" does. I sit passively on the couch, twirling the Wii remote in circles at all times to beat up devil dogs.
So, yes, I've slain dragons and laid waste to men whose faces resemble lizard skulls. But I haven't broken a sweat or felt an ounce of excitement. In gaming, that kind of redundancy is the real portent of doom.
("Heavenly Sword" retails for $60 for PS 3 -- Plays alternatively fun and repetitive. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "T" for blood, language, suggestive themes, violence. Three stars out of four.)
("Dragon Blade: Wrath of Fire" retails for $40 for Wii -- Plays repetitive. Looks OK. Easy to moderately challenging. Rated "T" for fantasy violence. Two stars out of four.)
The Game Dork
Oct. 26, 2007
Nariko, the feisty fighter of "Heavenly Sword," is extra motivated to kill lots of nasties, while she's on her journey to punish their evil King Bohan. The king has kidnapped Nariko's father; there's nothing so wrathful as a warrior with daddy issues.
PlayStation 3's "Heavenly Sword" has piqued the interest of many male gamers because this heroine is a lovely young redhead whose dress seems to have made up its mind it will not cover the sides of her hips or the upper reaches of her chest plate.
Nariko is prophesied to save her kingdom. Here she is a female, and everyone in her village thought their savior was going be a dude.
"They said I was a portent of doom. Maybe they were right," she says in voice-over narration.
No, I bet "they" were wrong. Nariko slices and dices rival clan members of the king's allegiance. She bloodies them using a "Heavenly Sword" that must weigh what she weighs. It's enormous.
King Bohan wants to gain possession of that big bad blade, because it's magically powerful, like a "Lord of the Rings" ring. The point of the game: Can she defeat his majesty in all his jerky glory?
"Heavenly Sword" has been compared to the masterpiece "God of War" games, because it's a deliciously pretty action-adventure set in a grand, fantasy past of rope bridges and ornate castles.
But "Heavenly Sword" isn't nearly as fun as "God of War" titles. "God" games beg you to run quickly across vast lands, while sleekly slaughtering evil underlings, one or five at a time. However, "Heavenly's" journey is paced slower. Plus, she's constantly killing 20 people at a time, too quickly.
In other words, "Heavenly" blurs its beautiful action too much while standing still, and the hacking and slashing resembles "Ninja Gaiden" more than "God of War." "Ninja Gaiden" games are fun, but they suffer the same problem. Killing becomes routine button-mashing. Monster mashes are entertaining for a bit but they glaze the eyes.
Fantasy heroes in such games are always in search of a perfect sword, a doomed romance and a prophesy that proves they are The One.
Ergo, "Dragon Blade: Wrath of Fire" for the Wii also stars a prophesied hero of a guy who is poorly named Dal. His betrothed was killed by villains he seeks. (How romantically tragic.) He must slay six dragons and steal their powers, including their red fiery fists. Along the way, he beats up a forever-series of giant spiders, ram-headed bipeds wielding huge axes, and other nefarious scumbags.
The promise of "Dragon Blade" is in its Wii remote, not in the Wii's subpar visuals and sounds. You the gamer swing the wireless remote as you would a sword or fist, and Dag swings his weapons thusly.
But "Dragon Blade" settles into even more repetition than "Heavenly Sword" does. I sit passively on the couch, twirling the Wii remote in circles at all times to beat up devil dogs.
So, yes, I've slain dragons and laid waste to men whose faces resemble lizard skulls. But I haven't broken a sweat or felt an ounce of excitement. In gaming, that kind of redundancy is the real portent of doom.
("Heavenly Sword" retails for $60 for PS 3 -- Plays alternatively fun and repetitive. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "T" for blood, language, suggestive themes, violence. Three stars out of four.)
("Dragon Blade: Wrath of Fire" retails for $40 for Wii -- Plays repetitive. Looks OK. Easy to moderately challenging. Rated "T" for fantasy violence. Two stars out of four.)
Sony's hand-held PSP proves good things come in small packages
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Oct. 19, 2007
If I were still poor and could afford to buy only one video game machine, I might go with Sony's hand-held PSP. It's an extraordinary little miracle on par with the PS 2, and now there's an even slimmer, lighter PSP on the market.
Sony just started selling a redesigned PSP. It doesn't weigh much more than my Blackberry. The excellent screen is still a 4.3-inch LCD, which beams movies and games with a crispness that beats iPod and other techy devices.
It's $170, though $200 bundles come with the fairly fun cartoon adventure "Daxter" and "Family Guy: The Freakin' Sweet Collection." Another new bundle comes with "Star Wars Battlefront: Renegade Squadron."
The pros: For this PSP, you can buy an AV cable that hooks up to TVs, so you can put PSP images on a big screen. Games load a little faster. And the system comes with a nice, 1 gig memory stick.
The cons: If you already own peripherals for your old PSP, they probably won't work. My amazing, 15-hour Blue Raven battery booster ($80) doesn't fit my redesigned PSP. Neither does my Griffin iFM radio adapter ($30; to receive radio signals), nor my Griffin iTrip ($25; to send PSP audio to my car radio).
Plenty of gamers complain the PSP doesn't offer as many great titles as do the PS 2 and Xbox 360. This is true. But there are enough games, such as "Tiger Woods PGA Tour '08," to keep you busy for months
And a handful of new and recent games spin spectacularly.
"NBA '08" is just as fun as the slate of basketball games on Xbox 360 and PS 3.
This summer's "Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six Vegas" lets you zip through a huge and showy action-adventure, both as a solo mission and as an online shooter.
And perhaps the best of a new bunch is "Syphon Filter: Logan's Shadow," a sequel shooting game that looks better than most PS 2 games. It allows you to shoot and stab bad guys with aplomb. You even scald a guy's face against a stove top. The online shooting is fairly fun, too, though it's nothing like a great Xbox 360 experience.
The hand-held system may get a boost next spring with the release of "God of War: Chains of Olympus." I haven't been able to play all of "Olympus," but Sony sent me a demo so I could flip through several completed levels. And "Chains of Olympus" looks like it may be the greatest PSP game of all time.
It's a filmlike beast of an action-adventure that moves, feels and plays every bit as exciting as previous PS 2 "God of Wars."
Once again, you play as antihero Kratos, the strongest, most vicious warrior in history. He's a Spartan who swings blades of fire attached at the arms, slaying soldiers, dragons, giant mythical beasts, and even bigger mythical beasts (the size of airliners) that go around eating the merely giant beasts in their way.
In essence, "Chains of Olympus" could do for the PSP what "Halo" titles did for the Xbox 360: give gamers a massive reason to invest a lot of money in a system just to play one title. Or you could jump onto the PSP now, and get ready for its serious gamesmanship.
(Redesigned Sony PSP retails for $170 -- Plays fun. Looks great. Easy to very challenging games. Four stars.)
("NBA '08" retails for $40 for PSP -- Plays very fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "E." Four stars out of four.)
("Syphon Filter: Logan's Shadow" retails for $40 for PSP -- Plays addictively fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for language, violence. Four stars.)
("Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six Vegas" retails for $40 for PSP -- Plays fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for blood, mild language, violence. Three and one-half stars.)
The Game Dork
Oct. 19, 2007
If I were still poor and could afford to buy only one video game machine, I might go with Sony's hand-held PSP. It's an extraordinary little miracle on par with the PS 2, and now there's an even slimmer, lighter PSP on the market.
Sony just started selling a redesigned PSP. It doesn't weigh much more than my Blackberry. The excellent screen is still a 4.3-inch LCD, which beams movies and games with a crispness that beats iPod and other techy devices.
It's $170, though $200 bundles come with the fairly fun cartoon adventure "Daxter" and "Family Guy: The Freakin' Sweet Collection." Another new bundle comes with "Star Wars Battlefront: Renegade Squadron."
The pros: For this PSP, you can buy an AV cable that hooks up to TVs, so you can put PSP images on a big screen. Games load a little faster. And the system comes with a nice, 1 gig memory stick.
The cons: If you already own peripherals for your old PSP, they probably won't work. My amazing, 15-hour Blue Raven battery booster ($80) doesn't fit my redesigned PSP. Neither does my Griffin iFM radio adapter ($30; to receive radio signals), nor my Griffin iTrip ($25; to send PSP audio to my car radio).
Plenty of gamers complain the PSP doesn't offer as many great titles as do the PS 2 and Xbox 360. This is true. But there are enough games, such as "Tiger Woods PGA Tour '08," to keep you busy for months
And a handful of new and recent games spin spectacularly.
"NBA '08" is just as fun as the slate of basketball games on Xbox 360 and PS 3.
This summer's "Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six Vegas" lets you zip through a huge and showy action-adventure, both as a solo mission and as an online shooter.
And perhaps the best of a new bunch is "Syphon Filter: Logan's Shadow," a sequel shooting game that looks better than most PS 2 games. It allows you to shoot and stab bad guys with aplomb. You even scald a guy's face against a stove top. The online shooting is fairly fun, too, though it's nothing like a great Xbox 360 experience.
The hand-held system may get a boost next spring with the release of "God of War: Chains of Olympus." I haven't been able to play all of "Olympus," but Sony sent me a demo so I could flip through several completed levels. And "Chains of Olympus" looks like it may be the greatest PSP game of all time.
It's a filmlike beast of an action-adventure that moves, feels and plays every bit as exciting as previous PS 2 "God of Wars."
Once again, you play as antihero Kratos, the strongest, most vicious warrior in history. He's a Spartan who swings blades of fire attached at the arms, slaying soldiers, dragons, giant mythical beasts, and even bigger mythical beasts (the size of airliners) that go around eating the merely giant beasts in their way.
In essence, "Chains of Olympus" could do for the PSP what "Halo" titles did for the Xbox 360: give gamers a massive reason to invest a lot of money in a system just to play one title. Or you could jump onto the PSP now, and get ready for its serious gamesmanship.
(Redesigned Sony PSP retails for $170 -- Plays fun. Looks great. Easy to very challenging games. Four stars.)
("NBA '08" retails for $40 for PSP -- Plays very fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "E." Four stars out of four.)
("Syphon Filter: Logan's Shadow" retails for $40 for PSP -- Plays addictively fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for language, violence. Four stars.)
("Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six Vegas" retails for $40 for PSP -- Plays fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for blood, mild language, violence. Three and one-half stars.)
'Halo 3' lives up to expectations, but with one complaint
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Oct. 05, 2007
Yes, "Halo 3" is an instant classic in an otherwise mediocre year. But leave it to me to nitpick: When you play against other gamers online, it takes forever to get a game started, and occasionally you can't even get a game to start.
Granted, this is a minor complaint that mostly will be straightened out pretty soon, as these things do. But it is annoying that every online game for a console -- even oh-mighty "Halo 3" -- begins with sporadic kinks in its computer servers.
The delays keep me from playing even more of the awesomeness that is "Halo 3," with its rocket launchers, rifles and "Needler" guns (which shoot killer icicle thingies into enemies' bodies that then explode within them).
Winning is all about finding the best guns lying around randomly (battlefields are strewn with weapons). This "Halo" also comes with better energy-sword fights than before. You clash against a rival, and the swords stun you both. Good luck not dying.
If you're not a gamer, here's the deal. Thanks largely to the first "Halo," the Xbox became a big seller in 2001 and 2002, when no one was sure if Microsoft's first game machine could compete against Sony's humongo PlayStation 2. "Halo" did for Microsoft what "Donkey Kong" and "Mario" games did for Nintendo.
Flash forward to now, and the Xbox 360 clearly is outselling the PS 2 and PS 3 in the serious gaming market, partly because "Halo 3" is available only on Xbox. This spells trouble for the otherwise excellent PS 3.
Once again, the sci-fi adventure is fantastic. "Halo 3" had the artistic advantage of time (three years in the making) and development money (plus a $10 million marketing campaign).
When you play the solo game against the computer, you travel across space stations and planets -- deserts, snowdrifts and everything green in between -- to kill evil soldiers who answer to the nasty Prophet of Truth.
I won't go into all the dorky details in the end of this trilogy, but essentially you are Master Chief, the marine (wearing an iconic green spacesuit) who can save humankind. You kill thousands of space dudes who want to destroy humanity and, I suppose, the universe.
Regular gamers will be satisfied playing just the nine levels of solo missions, because they are extravagantly drawn. And shooting your way through baddies is fun. (It's easy, moderately hard or very hard, depending on which setting you choose). This could take between 10 and 20 hours, based on your skills.
But many fans are going right to the online multiplayers, where you compete on 11 huge battle maps. You can join a team to capture a flag, protect bases against attack, or merely kill everything in sight. Or you can play a teamless free-for-all.
Two big new features live up to the hype. You can capture video of any moment you want -- like taking down several enemies with a single blow -- and share these images with anyone on Xbox Live, to prove how super duper dorky cool you are. And on another level, you can design parts of maps, not the locations but where weapons are placed and where you spawn back to life.
This is all pretty crazy and wondrous, which is why I feel slightly bad about slagging the game for its opening-week server slowdowns. But whatever. I want to jump in online now, now, now. I'm already sick of hearing gamers, through my headphones, say, "Why does it take so long?"
Hang in there, "Halo" heads. Everything will be perfect, any minute now, I hope.
("Halo 3" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 -- Plays fun. Looks great. Easy to very challenging, depending on settings. Rated "M" for blood, gore, mild language, violence. Four stars out of four.)
The Game Dork
Oct. 05, 2007
Yes, "Halo 3" is an instant classic in an otherwise mediocre year. But leave it to me to nitpick: When you play against other gamers online, it takes forever to get a game started, and occasionally you can't even get a game to start.
Granted, this is a minor complaint that mostly will be straightened out pretty soon, as these things do. But it is annoying that every online game for a console -- even oh-mighty "Halo 3" -- begins with sporadic kinks in its computer servers.
The delays keep me from playing even more of the awesomeness that is "Halo 3," with its rocket launchers, rifles and "Needler" guns (which shoot killer icicle thingies into enemies' bodies that then explode within them).
Winning is all about finding the best guns lying around randomly (battlefields are strewn with weapons). This "Halo" also comes with better energy-sword fights than before. You clash against a rival, and the swords stun you both. Good luck not dying.
If you're not a gamer, here's the deal. Thanks largely to the first "Halo," the Xbox became a big seller in 2001 and 2002, when no one was sure if Microsoft's first game machine could compete against Sony's humongo PlayStation 2. "Halo" did for Microsoft what "Donkey Kong" and "Mario" games did for Nintendo.
Flash forward to now, and the Xbox 360 clearly is outselling the PS 2 and PS 3 in the serious gaming market, partly because "Halo 3" is available only on Xbox. This spells trouble for the otherwise excellent PS 3.
Once again, the sci-fi adventure is fantastic. "Halo 3" had the artistic advantage of time (three years in the making) and development money (plus a $10 million marketing campaign).
When you play the solo game against the computer, you travel across space stations and planets -- deserts, snowdrifts and everything green in between -- to kill evil soldiers who answer to the nasty Prophet of Truth.
I won't go into all the dorky details in the end of this trilogy, but essentially you are Master Chief, the marine (wearing an iconic green spacesuit) who can save humankind. You kill thousands of space dudes who want to destroy humanity and, I suppose, the universe.
Regular gamers will be satisfied playing just the nine levels of solo missions, because they are extravagantly drawn. And shooting your way through baddies is fun. (It's easy, moderately hard or very hard, depending on which setting you choose). This could take between 10 and 20 hours, based on your skills.
But many fans are going right to the online multiplayers, where you compete on 11 huge battle maps. You can join a team to capture a flag, protect bases against attack, or merely kill everything in sight. Or you can play a teamless free-for-all.
Two big new features live up to the hype. You can capture video of any moment you want -- like taking down several enemies with a single blow -- and share these images with anyone on Xbox Live, to prove how super duper dorky cool you are. And on another level, you can design parts of maps, not the locations but where weapons are placed and where you spawn back to life.
This is all pretty crazy and wondrous, which is why I feel slightly bad about slagging the game for its opening-week server slowdowns. But whatever. I want to jump in online now, now, now. I'm already sick of hearing gamers, through my headphones, say, "Why does it take so long?"
Hang in there, "Halo" heads. Everything will be perfect, any minute now, I hope.
("Halo 3" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 -- Plays fun. Looks great. Easy to very challenging, depending on settings. Rated "M" for blood, gore, mild language, violence. Four stars out of four.)
'Brain Age 2' and other puzzle games test your smarts
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
Sep. 28, 2007
We live in such a weird world. One minute, you're watching a Miss Teen USA contestant on TV who fails to string together a run-on sentence about geography, and you weep for our nation.
The next, you're finding out that one of the most popular video game genres in our little country is logic games, which have nothing to do with shooting people and everything to do with testing the depth of your cerebral cortex.
Go figure.
No, seriously. You must go figure, in one "Brain Age 2" minigame, the descending numbers correlating downward by seven from the number 78. And you must do so in very rapid order.
"Brain Age 2: More Training in Minutes a Day!" also makes you beat a quick clock while reading sheet music and pressing corresponding musical notes on a one-octave piano. This is not easy-peasy for nonmusicians.
Some "Brain Age 2" tests are somewhat less intimidating, like playing "Rock, Paper, Scissors."
Among the more moderately difficult minigames, you decipher how many dollars and coins to give back to a customer during a transaction.
But even those minigames gauge how fast you spin your logical mind, including sudoku puzzles. If you succeed quickly, the game says you have a young brain on the level of, say, a 22-year-old. If you're slow at math, you might have the brain age of a 55-year-old, even if you're much younger than that in real life.
Such logic games are awesome on the interactive DS, with its penlike stylus. Two other big winners are the summer releases "Picross DS" and "Nervous Brickdown."
"Picross" is a fill-in-the-blank puzzle, like sudoku but simpler. The board resembles "Battleship." There's an "X" axis and a "Y" axis, and you put a certain number of dots on each axis in a way that they correspond. I can't describe it any better than that.
It's a bizarre game with bizarre rules, and each round can last just 49 seconds or a full hour.
But trust me, "Picross" is mildly addictive if you're a math nerd like I am. (Most of my electives in college were calculus and such.)
Then there's "Nervous Brickdown" for the DS, a very creative and fascinating reinvention of "Breakout," the paddle-and-ball game. It comes with a handful of minigames, but what's exciting is how artistic these variations of "Breakout" are.
In one side game, you draw your own paddle shape (a "U," a "V" or whatever form you desire), and you push the paddle up and down (like you would on an air hockey table), and your ball destroys pretty, two-dimensional art paintings.
All these games are pretty cute, yet quite challenging. "Brain Age 2" is kicking my rump. On a weekend drive, my fiancee watched me playing it constantly and said, "You're gonna be, like, 18 by the time we get there." Nope. I had a brain age of 56.
I don't even want to do the math on how much older that makes my brain than my body.
("Brain Age 2: More Training in Minutes a Day!" retails for $20 for DS -- Plays addictive. Looks fine. Very challenging. Rated "E." Four stars out of four.)
("Nervous Brickdown" retails for $30 for DS -- Plays fun and cool. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "E." Three and one-half stars.)
("Picross DS" retails for $20 for the DS -- Plays intriguing if you're a math dork. Looks workaday. Easy to challenging. Rated "E." Three stars.)
The Game Dork
Sep. 28, 2007
We live in such a weird world. One minute, you're watching a Miss Teen USA contestant on TV who fails to string together a run-on sentence about geography, and you weep for our nation.
The next, you're finding out that one of the most popular video game genres in our little country is logic games, which have nothing to do with shooting people and everything to do with testing the depth of your cerebral cortex.
Go figure.
No, seriously. You must go figure, in one "Brain Age 2" minigame, the descending numbers correlating downward by seven from the number 78. And you must do so in very rapid order.
"Brain Age 2: More Training in Minutes a Day!" also makes you beat a quick clock while reading sheet music and pressing corresponding musical notes on a one-octave piano. This is not easy-peasy for nonmusicians.
Some "Brain Age 2" tests are somewhat less intimidating, like playing "Rock, Paper, Scissors."
Among the more moderately difficult minigames, you decipher how many dollars and coins to give back to a customer during a transaction.
But even those minigames gauge how fast you spin your logical mind, including sudoku puzzles. If you succeed quickly, the game says you have a young brain on the level of, say, a 22-year-old. If you're slow at math, you might have the brain age of a 55-year-old, even if you're much younger than that in real life.
Such logic games are awesome on the interactive DS, with its penlike stylus. Two other big winners are the summer releases "Picross DS" and "Nervous Brickdown."
"Picross" is a fill-in-the-blank puzzle, like sudoku but simpler. The board resembles "Battleship." There's an "X" axis and a "Y" axis, and you put a certain number of dots on each axis in a way that they correspond. I can't describe it any better than that.
It's a bizarre game with bizarre rules, and each round can last just 49 seconds or a full hour.
But trust me, "Picross" is mildly addictive if you're a math nerd like I am. (Most of my electives in college were calculus and such.)
Then there's "Nervous Brickdown" for the DS, a very creative and fascinating reinvention of "Breakout," the paddle-and-ball game. It comes with a handful of minigames, but what's exciting is how artistic these variations of "Breakout" are.
In one side game, you draw your own paddle shape (a "U," a "V" or whatever form you desire), and you push the paddle up and down (like you would on an air hockey table), and your ball destroys pretty, two-dimensional art paintings.
All these games are pretty cute, yet quite challenging. "Brain Age 2" is kicking my rump. On a weekend drive, my fiancee watched me playing it constantly and said, "You're gonna be, like, 18 by the time we get there." Nope. I had a brain age of 56.
I don't even want to do the math on how much older that makes my brain than my body.
("Brain Age 2: More Training in Minutes a Day!" retails for $20 for DS -- Plays addictive. Looks fine. Very challenging. Rated "E." Four stars out of four.)
("Nervous Brickdown" retails for $30 for DS -- Plays fun and cool. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "E." Three and one-half stars.)
("Picross DS" retails for $20 for the DS -- Plays intriguing if you're a math dork. Looks workaday. Easy to challenging. Rated "E." Three stars.)
'Stranglehold' still a lot of fun, even if it's a short, easy ride
By Doug Elfman
Sep. 21, 2007
You don't have to wonder much if "Stranglehold" is Asian-centric. Let's see. The action takes place in neon Hong Kong. One of your goals is to collect paper cranes for no good reason. And you're often taunted by a Hong Kong flute sound. This is a bit of a stereotype in stereo.
The game is officially titled "John Woo Presents Stranglehold," because it's based on characters from John Woo's 1992 action flick "Hard-Boiled." So the game is a sequel to a movie, and Chow Yun Fat stars in both. That's how the film-to-gaming universe spins lately, as anyone who has played a Vin Diesel game knows. (Vin Diesel movies: bad. Vin Diesel games: good.)
"Stranglehold" is a one-trick pony, but sometimes it's fun to ride a one-trick pony. The fun trick of "Stranglehold" is you must do the same thing over and over: Press a few buttons to kill thousands of baddies. But the killing methodology is intriguing and paced well enough to keep it from feeling like a sluggish donkey ride.
Our hero from Hong Kong to Chicago is Inspector Tequila. He drinks, he smokes, he kills. He's a sin tax with legs.
Tequila also slides across things. You can't stop this cat from scurrying his butt over kitchen counters and tabletops, or running up and down stair rails. These surfaces appear everywhere. And merely pressing the joystick near a room service cart forces Tequila to skimmer atop its surface. (Who knew Hong Kong alleys are riddled with room service carts?)
There are two good reasons for this surface surfing. First, it's harder for mob dudes to shoot you if you're gliding about. Second, the game goes into slow motion during such scenes, so you can aim precisely at heads, hearts and groins. (Ouchy.)
Its cool gun features are reminiscent of my two favorite solo-mission shooters of all time, "Red Dead Revolver" and "Max Payne." Most fun of all, you sometimes enter standoff showdowns, where you try to dodge super-duper slow-mo bullets traveling at your face while you simultaneously try to aim at your opponent's eyeballs.
But as I said, this becomes a one-trick pony, and it's a short, easy ride. If you're moderately talented, it can end in fewer than 10 hours.
Story lines come with cinematic scenes, but they're dumb. And rogues operate under the mistaken impression their bullets will hurt you. Little do they know you have the ability to outlive many, many bullet holes. If you do get blasted too much, you can walk up to almost any wall and find a first aid kit that immediately heals all wounds. How magical.
I'd give the game a better review if only it were twice as long, or if the online multiplayer weren't limited to a maximum of six people waiting for short, sad rounds to begin.
All in all, it's worth a few hours, if only to see how you interact with random objects littering streets and buildings. In fact, I think I just set a watermelon on fire then sat down on a basket of bananas on a room service cart in an alley. That's pretty cool; also, a waste of watermelon and bananas.
("John Woo Presents Stranglehold" retails for $60 for Xbox 360; and launches for $60 on Tuesday for PS 3 -- Plays fun but short, and the online play is disappointing. Looks great. Easy to moderately challenging. Rated "M" for blood, drug references, intense violence. Three stars out of four.)
Sep. 21, 2007
You don't have to wonder much if "Stranglehold" is Asian-centric. Let's see. The action takes place in neon Hong Kong. One of your goals is to collect paper cranes for no good reason. And you're often taunted by a Hong Kong flute sound. This is a bit of a stereotype in stereo.
The game is officially titled "John Woo Presents Stranglehold," because it's based on characters from John Woo's 1992 action flick "Hard-Boiled." So the game is a sequel to a movie, and Chow Yun Fat stars in both. That's how the film-to-gaming universe spins lately, as anyone who has played a Vin Diesel game knows. (Vin Diesel movies: bad. Vin Diesel games: good.)
"Stranglehold" is a one-trick pony, but sometimes it's fun to ride a one-trick pony. The fun trick of "Stranglehold" is you must do the same thing over and over: Press a few buttons to kill thousands of baddies. But the killing methodology is intriguing and paced well enough to keep it from feeling like a sluggish donkey ride.
Our hero from Hong Kong to Chicago is Inspector Tequila. He drinks, he smokes, he kills. He's a sin tax with legs.
Tequila also slides across things. You can't stop this cat from scurrying his butt over kitchen counters and tabletops, or running up and down stair rails. These surfaces appear everywhere. And merely pressing the joystick near a room service cart forces Tequila to skimmer atop its surface. (Who knew Hong Kong alleys are riddled with room service carts?)
There are two good reasons for this surface surfing. First, it's harder for mob dudes to shoot you if you're gliding about. Second, the game goes into slow motion during such scenes, so you can aim precisely at heads, hearts and groins. (Ouchy.)
Its cool gun features are reminiscent of my two favorite solo-mission shooters of all time, "Red Dead Revolver" and "Max Payne." Most fun of all, you sometimes enter standoff showdowns, where you try to dodge super-duper slow-mo bullets traveling at your face while you simultaneously try to aim at your opponent's eyeballs.
But as I said, this becomes a one-trick pony, and it's a short, easy ride. If you're moderately talented, it can end in fewer than 10 hours.
Story lines come with cinematic scenes, but they're dumb. And rogues operate under the mistaken impression their bullets will hurt you. Little do they know you have the ability to outlive many, many bullet holes. If you do get blasted too much, you can walk up to almost any wall and find a first aid kit that immediately heals all wounds. How magical.
I'd give the game a better review if only it were twice as long, or if the online multiplayer weren't limited to a maximum of six people waiting for short, sad rounds to begin.
All in all, it's worth a few hours, if only to see how you interact with random objects littering streets and buildings. In fact, I think I just set a watermelon on fire then sat down on a basket of bananas on a room service cart in an alley. That's pretty cool; also, a waste of watermelon and bananas.
("John Woo Presents Stranglehold" retails for $60 for Xbox 360; and launches for $60 on Tuesday for PS 3 -- Plays fun but short, and the online play is disappointing. Looks great. Easy to moderately challenging. Rated "M" for blood, drug references, intense violence. Three stars out of four.)
Nowhere 'Road' returns to pandering
'OCTOBER ROAD' Zero stars9:02 to 10 p.m. Thursday, then 9 to 10 p.m. Mondays on WLS-Channel 7.
November 21, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
"October Road" is on ABC, so this is what ABC thinks women want to see: a soap where the main female character's heart is caught between the barbed wire of her macho, blue-collar ex-boyfriend nicknamed Big Cat, and the tenderness of her moody author ex-boyfriend.
Contrary to the usual ABC romance novel, "October Road" mostly concerns itself with the men, not the women, so the dudes are starting a second season of yearning for love or trying to hold onto it.
A woman who hated "October Road" recently told me she wanted to see the next episode regardless because, "It's like fetish porn: hot guys drooling over fat girls."
The series resumes with Hannah (Laura Prepon) talking for an hour about the knot in her stomach caused by her love for old flame Nick (Bryan Greenberg), who briefly leaves their sleepy town ("The Ridge," Mass.) to trek to New York in search of Owen, after Owen's wife cheated on him with ... oh, seriously, who cares.
Another woman told me last season: "I know I shouldn't watch 'October Road' because it's so bad but ... I can't stop watching it!"
Lucky me. I can.
delfman@suntimes.com
November 21, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
"October Road" is on ABC, so this is what ABC thinks women want to see: a soap where the main female character's heart is caught between the barbed wire of her macho, blue-collar ex-boyfriend nicknamed Big Cat, and the tenderness of her moody author ex-boyfriend.
Contrary to the usual ABC romance novel, "October Road" mostly concerns itself with the men, not the women, so the dudes are starting a second season of yearning for love or trying to hold onto it.
A woman who hated "October Road" recently told me she wanted to see the next episode regardless because, "It's like fetish porn: hot guys drooling over fat girls."
The series resumes with Hannah (Laura Prepon) talking for an hour about the knot in her stomach caused by her love for old flame Nick (Bryan Greenberg), who briefly leaves their sleepy town ("The Ridge," Mass.) to trek to New York in search of Owen, after Owen's wife cheated on him with ... oh, seriously, who cares.
Another woman told me last season: "I know I shouldn't watch 'October Road' because it's so bad but ... I can't stop watching it!"
Lucky me. I can.
delfman@suntimes.com
'Housewives' desperately seeking humanity
November 18, 2007
By Doug Elfman
Television Critic
Lynette got the good news that chemo was working to "clear" her cancer. She strolled outside and smiled at a black sky of white stars. Then she looked down at her garden, where she had sprinkled poison to stop a hole-digging possum.
Dead, the possum lay sprawled in a disjointed pose. Lynette (Felicity Huffman) buckled to the ground. How could she have done this?
"I'm sorry," she sobbed to the possum.
It's called quiet desperation, this feeling of Lynette's. And after all these years, "Desperate Housewives" finally, finally humanizes it.
What took so long? I know the answers. It's been overly cutesy and stupidly soapy. Inherently, it still is that, for good portions. But this is the melodrama's best season, following its worst.
It's hard to believe but it's true: In the past, the show's worst enemy has been its music score. This season, though, it's rarer to hear plucky, upbeat pizzicato destroying the hard, humanizing work of actors.
There have been bad exceptions. Early in this very season, Dana Delany (as Katherine) did some heavy-lifting acting in a tearful party scene that could have played sad. But jokey orchestral strings stomped all over her, projecting to the viewer that: "Everything will be just fine, nothing low to see here."
Even so, the show is stronger than before. What else has improved? Most things, especially the scripts (love the new gay neighbors) and the acting (especially Huffman, Ricardo Chavira, Kyle MacLachlan, Eva Longoria and Dana Delany).
Perhaps as a result, "Desperate Housewives" is experiencing a resurgence in ratings and critical praise.
It's hard not to also credit three narrative threads defining the season so far -- a darker tone, a political parable about a homeowners' association and well-thought-out liberal undertones.
Compare "Desperate" to a few other dark shows. As a stranger told me at a party recently, TV is focusing on evil, particularly "Dexter" (a serial killer) and "Reaper" (guys who do good deeds for Satan).
But "Desperate" can be the most morbid series on TV. I've seen nothing more disturbing this year than the decline and death of Katherine's Aunt Lillian.
While Lillian went bed-ridden at Katherine's house, the niece really just wanted her aunt to perish, since Lillian intended to spill a nasty secret to Katherine's daughter.
As Lillian pleaded for help, Katherine shut Lillian's door, and there she gasped gruesomely for breath and for a chance to confess from her deathbed.
The camera focused quietly on Lillian, slipping slowly into a lonely, depressing last descent. It was really nasty.
"It occurred to Lillian, death couldn't come quickly enough," the "Desperate" narrator said beforehand. "This thought came to her niece, as well." (The lack of an uptempo music score helped sell the scene.)
Katherine is evil-ish. But "Desperate Housewives" implies, and I agree, that the real cherry pits of evil are the homeowners' association and the murderous, adulterous members. For three years, housewives made friends and enemies by geography. Upping the ante, Katherine reinstated their defunct association, won its presidency and set out to crack down on Lynette's kids' innocent tree house, plus a waterfall sculpture in another yard. Lynette vowed to take down Katherine, that "jack-booted hausfrau." The association election temporarily split Lynette's friendship with Susan. And for a while, the homeowners' association was, no doubt, a mechanical microcosm of heartless politics.
If this sounds like a liberal premise, you're right. "Desperate Housewives," one of the most-watched shows among suburbanites in homeowners' associations, veers left.
Not only did Lynette get emotional comeuppance for killing the possum, she had to be shown in a crazed state of mind asking icy Republican Bree for gun advice regarding the possum. Bree suggested she buy a little rifle at a store -- next to a Baptist church.
When Lynette's mom snuck marijuana into her brownies, it was for comic effect, not for just-say-no messages.
And the gay couple arrives in an era when the right vilifies homosexual families. One neighbor was chastised for criticizing "the gays."
Meanwhile, gay humor is doubling as a satire of acceptance in suburbia. Susan (Teri Hatcher) tripped over herself trying to welcome the gay men, saying she was familiar with "you folks" because she watches cable TV.
The couple, Lee (Kevin Rahm) and Bob (Tuc Watkins) are portrayed not as outsiders so much, but as equal wits, so they snipe at Susan just like the others do.
"Neighbor," Lee said, rejecting a perhaps allergy-inducing gift from Susan, "why don't you take your store-bought, warmed-up, possibly poisonous cookie bars and give them to someone more likely to survive your generosity."
There are still sections of "Desperate Housewives" -- a live-action cartoon of comic mysteries -- that run a bit too broad and stretched out. But it's tauter than it has ever been. And for the first time in four years, I can see it for what it should be. Human.
delfman@suntimes.com
By Doug Elfman
Television Critic
Lynette got the good news that chemo was working to "clear" her cancer. She strolled outside and smiled at a black sky of white stars. Then she looked down at her garden, where she had sprinkled poison to stop a hole-digging possum.
Dead, the possum lay sprawled in a disjointed pose. Lynette (Felicity Huffman) buckled to the ground. How could she have done this?
"I'm sorry," she sobbed to the possum.
It's called quiet desperation, this feeling of Lynette's. And after all these years, "Desperate Housewives" finally, finally humanizes it.
What took so long? I know the answers. It's been overly cutesy and stupidly soapy. Inherently, it still is that, for good portions. But this is the melodrama's best season, following its worst.
It's hard to believe but it's true: In the past, the show's worst enemy has been its music score. This season, though, it's rarer to hear plucky, upbeat pizzicato destroying the hard, humanizing work of actors.
There have been bad exceptions. Early in this very season, Dana Delany (as Katherine) did some heavy-lifting acting in a tearful party scene that could have played sad. But jokey orchestral strings stomped all over her, projecting to the viewer that: "Everything will be just fine, nothing low to see here."
Even so, the show is stronger than before. What else has improved? Most things, especially the scripts (love the new gay neighbors) and the acting (especially Huffman, Ricardo Chavira, Kyle MacLachlan, Eva Longoria and Dana Delany).
Perhaps as a result, "Desperate Housewives" is experiencing a resurgence in ratings and critical praise.
It's hard not to also credit three narrative threads defining the season so far -- a darker tone, a political parable about a homeowners' association and well-thought-out liberal undertones.
Compare "Desperate" to a few other dark shows. As a stranger told me at a party recently, TV is focusing on evil, particularly "Dexter" (a serial killer) and "Reaper" (guys who do good deeds for Satan).
But "Desperate" can be the most morbid series on TV. I've seen nothing more disturbing this year than the decline and death of Katherine's Aunt Lillian.
While Lillian went bed-ridden at Katherine's house, the niece really just wanted her aunt to perish, since Lillian intended to spill a nasty secret to Katherine's daughter.
As Lillian pleaded for help, Katherine shut Lillian's door, and there she gasped gruesomely for breath and for a chance to confess from her deathbed.
The camera focused quietly on Lillian, slipping slowly into a lonely, depressing last descent. It was really nasty.
"It occurred to Lillian, death couldn't come quickly enough," the "Desperate" narrator said beforehand. "This thought came to her niece, as well." (The lack of an uptempo music score helped sell the scene.)
Katherine is evil-ish. But "Desperate Housewives" implies, and I agree, that the real cherry pits of evil are the homeowners' association and the murderous, adulterous members. For three years, housewives made friends and enemies by geography. Upping the ante, Katherine reinstated their defunct association, won its presidency and set out to crack down on Lynette's kids' innocent tree house, plus a waterfall sculpture in another yard. Lynette vowed to take down Katherine, that "jack-booted hausfrau." The association election temporarily split Lynette's friendship with Susan. And for a while, the homeowners' association was, no doubt, a mechanical microcosm of heartless politics.
If this sounds like a liberal premise, you're right. "Desperate Housewives," one of the most-watched shows among suburbanites in homeowners' associations, veers left.
Not only did Lynette get emotional comeuppance for killing the possum, she had to be shown in a crazed state of mind asking icy Republican Bree for gun advice regarding the possum. Bree suggested she buy a little rifle at a store -- next to a Baptist church.
When Lynette's mom snuck marijuana into her brownies, it was for comic effect, not for just-say-no messages.
And the gay couple arrives in an era when the right vilifies homosexual families. One neighbor was chastised for criticizing "the gays."
Meanwhile, gay humor is doubling as a satire of acceptance in suburbia. Susan (Teri Hatcher) tripped over herself trying to welcome the gay men, saying she was familiar with "you folks" because she watches cable TV.
The couple, Lee (Kevin Rahm) and Bob (Tuc Watkins) are portrayed not as outsiders so much, but as equal wits, so they snipe at Susan just like the others do.
"Neighbor," Lee said, rejecting a perhaps allergy-inducing gift from Susan, "why don't you take your store-bought, warmed-up, possibly poisonous cookie bars and give them to someone more likely to survive your generosity."
There are still sections of "Desperate Housewives" -- a live-action cartoon of comic mysteries -- that run a bit too broad and stretched out. But it's tauter than it has ever been. And for the first time in four years, I can see it for what it should be. Human.
delfman@suntimes.com
Dueling designers are skilled, fierce
November 14, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN delfman@ suntimes.com
Like "The Apprentice," "Project Runway" gives us competitors who actually have skills. For three seasons, "Runway" rivals have been a welcome relief compared to people on redundant "Survivor" (those backstabbers with a high tolerance for pain) and the car drivers of dull "Amazing Race" (goal: who can make a plane reservation the fastest?!).
So in the fourth season (starting tonight), there's a designer from Ralph Lauren, another who already has released a jeans line for Victoria's Secret, and so on.
The Chicago contestant is free-lance designer Steve Rosengard, 29. He passes time by drawing an illustration of a naked man, then saying to the camera, "Damn, I wish I could remember this guy's phone number!"
Since Rosengard is from here, his first flourish isn't flashy. His creation has a classic, pared-down look. (That's his description. I had no idea.)
Rosengard is one of 15 designers vying to win a spread in Elle, a clothing line, a car and $100,000.
Tonight, everyone gets along. But later, there will be catfights.
"Don't these bitches know I'm better than them?" a sassy contestant says in an upcoming episode.
"Bitches" guy is the young and flamboyant Christian, 21. He considers himself fierce. "I'm kind of a celebrity -- in my head!" Christian says.
He's the mouthy one, and oddly, Christian and at least one other designer wear their hairdos like they're standing in line for a Flock of Seagulls concert in 1982. Swoop, there it is.
Hosts Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn are back. And once again, there's more meat to the competition than there is on the bones of the models.
It's compelling to see the talents of designers in action. Since I'm a layman whose closet begins and ends with sleek Kenneth Cole, I appreciate the prettier outfits more than the fancier couture. (I like the first dresses from Victorya and Marion.)
Since my layman's knowledge of good clothes ends with Kenneth Cole, I lose interest sometimes when designers sound a little too arts-and-craftsy for me: "Does anybody have a pinking shear with, like, a larger zigzag?"
But as Gunn says, they approach an empty canvas (for them, a design mannequin) with a ticking time constraint, and they "make it work."
The judges clearly pick the right loser to lose in week No. 1. How satisfying, except for the loser, although that's how competition-reality shows go, bitches. Someone tries, someone cries, and big dreams are ripped to shreds.
BY DOUG ELFMAN delfman@ suntimes.com
Like "The Apprentice," "Project Runway" gives us competitors who actually have skills. For three seasons, "Runway" rivals have been a welcome relief compared to people on redundant "Survivor" (those backstabbers with a high tolerance for pain) and the car drivers of dull "Amazing Race" (goal: who can make a plane reservation the fastest?!).
So in the fourth season (starting tonight), there's a designer from Ralph Lauren, another who already has released a jeans line for Victoria's Secret, and so on.
The Chicago contestant is free-lance designer Steve Rosengard, 29. He passes time by drawing an illustration of a naked man, then saying to the camera, "Damn, I wish I could remember this guy's phone number!"
Since Rosengard is from here, his first flourish isn't flashy. His creation has a classic, pared-down look. (That's his description. I had no idea.)
Rosengard is one of 15 designers vying to win a spread in Elle, a clothing line, a car and $100,000.
Tonight, everyone gets along. But later, there will be catfights.
"Don't these bitches know I'm better than them?" a sassy contestant says in an upcoming episode.
"Bitches" guy is the young and flamboyant Christian, 21. He considers himself fierce. "I'm kind of a celebrity -- in my head!" Christian says.
He's the mouthy one, and oddly, Christian and at least one other designer wear their hairdos like they're standing in line for a Flock of Seagulls concert in 1982. Swoop, there it is.
Hosts Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn are back. And once again, there's more meat to the competition than there is on the bones of the models.
It's compelling to see the talents of designers in action. Since I'm a layman whose closet begins and ends with sleek Kenneth Cole, I appreciate the prettier outfits more than the fancier couture. (I like the first dresses from Victorya and Marion.)
Since my layman's knowledge of good clothes ends with Kenneth Cole, I lose interest sometimes when designers sound a little too arts-and-craftsy for me: "Does anybody have a pinking shear with, like, a larger zigzag?"
But as Gunn says, they approach an empty canvas (for them, a design mannequin) with a ticking time constraint, and they "make it work."
The judges clearly pick the right loser to lose in week No. 1. How satisfying, except for the loser, although that's how competition-reality shows go, bitches. Someone tries, someone cries, and big dreams are ripped to shreds.
Rating Big 3 of nightly news
November 13, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
The three 5:30 p.m. newscasts may be little more than headline news in a 1970s format. But since cable news is obsessed with politicians, the Big Three broadcasts are the last evening frontier where TV reporters interview regular people for stories about what it's like to live in America.
Last week, ABC's Dan Harris talked to Cleveland residents about the "economic rape" of mortgage foreclosures on hundreds of houses, which are morphing into crack dens.
You don't see that kind of work, much, during the same half-hour on cable news.
I realized this while watching far too many hours of the past week's news on NBC, ABC, CBS, PBS, Fox, CNN and MSNBC. The broadcasters essentially cover the same stories the same ways. But there are slight differences:
The groove finder
After catching flak for a fluffy first year at "CBS Evening News," anchor and managing editor Katie Couric now flexes traditional news judgment in a conventional show.
In fact, two back-to-back stories on Friday were riveting and hard-hitting -- and they profiled ordinary people: about Vioxx's $5 billion bad-drug settlement, and about an insurance company giving bonuses to employees for dropping cancer patients to save money. (ABC and NBC also did those stories well.)
Best talker
Brian Williams writes descriptively and exercises the most solid news judgment at "NBC Nightly News."
Williams has a knack for boiling things down without sounding like he's condescending to 8-year-olds. He said about a dangerous kid's product, "If you have this toy in your home, take it away from your children." Introducing another story, he quickly defined ethanol as being "squeezed from corn."
Williams also had the week's best Chicago reference, saying of the space shuttle landing: "May your next landing at O'Hare be this smooth."
The steady hand
"ABC World News With Charles Gibson" is the sober, succinct newscast. It's basically just the facts. And for all the grief we critics have heaped on Couric, it was Gibson who twice teased a story with the crazy sentence, "They call him 'The Bear Whisperer!' "
I've always liked Gibson. But Elizabeth Vargas filled in Friday, and she presented an even more serious-toned half-hour. Maybe there's hope for her yet.
The three 5:30 p.m. newscasts may be little more than headline news in a 1970s format. But since cable news is obsessed with politicians, the Big Three broadcasts are the last evening frontier where TV reporters interview regular people for stories about what it's like to live in America.
Last week, ABC's Dan Harris talked to Cleveland residents about the "economic rape" of mortgage foreclosures on hundreds of houses, which are morphing into crack dens.
You don't see that kind of work, much, during the same half-hour on cable news.
I realized this while watching far too many hours of the past week's news on NBC, ABC, CBS, PBS, Fox, CNN and MSNBC. The broadcasters essentially cover the same stories the same ways. But there are slight differences.
KATIE COURIC
'CBS Evening News'
Couric has abandoned her failed experiment of fluff and now presents a statelier newscast, with just a smidgeon of goofy features (no goofier than ABC and NBC's lighter fare).
After catching flak for a fluffy first year at "CBS Evening News," anchor and managing editor Katie Couric now flexes traditional news judgment in a conventional show.
In fact, two back-to-back stories on Friday were riveting and hard-hitting -- and they profiled ordinary people: about Vioxx's $5 billion bad-drug settlement, and about an insurance company giving bonuses to employees for dropping cancer patients to save money. (ABC and NBC also did those stories well.)
CHARLES GIBSON
'ABC's World News'
The news old-school style: no fuss, no muss.
"ABC World News With Charles Gibson" is the sober, succinct newscast. It's basically just the facts. And for all the grief we critics have heaped on Couric, it was Gibson who twice teased a story with the crazy sentence, "They call him 'The Bear Whisperer!' "
I've always liked Gibson. But Elizabeth Vargas filled in Friday, and she presented an even more serious-toned half-hour. Maybe there's hope for her yet.
BRIAN WILLIAMS
'NBC Nightly News'
For graceful narratives that give stories clear meaning in context, he's the winner.
Brian Williams writes descriptively and exercises the most solid news judgment at "NBC Nightly News."
Williams has a knack for boiling things down without sounding like he's condescending to 8-year-olds. He said about a dangerous kid's product, "If you have this toy in your home, take it away from your children." Introducing another story, he quickly defined ethanol as being "squeezed from corn."
Williams also had the week's best Chicago reference, saying of the space shuttle landing: "May your next landing at O'Hare be this smooth."
Stating obvious is a big turnoff
November 13, 2007
By Doug Elfman
Regular Americans are an endangered species on TV news. Instead, cable newscasts in particular -- but broadcasters, too -- pay ex-politicians and their aides to lobby the same opinions, over and over and over.
That system isn't news. But the result is depressing from a journalistic standpoint: Ordinary people have been replaced in news reports by political wonks engaging in a national poli-sci class, arguing over just two social theories (Democratic and Republican) and their horserace for a leader.
It's no wonder some fed-up viewers have given up watching TV news.
CNN and Fox regurgitate congressional infighting the way local newscasts cover city councils. It's just louder than that. And it's not the news. It's news-eque. News-ish. Or as the logo behind Wolf Blitzer's "The Situation Room" brags, "CNN = Politics."
Several things seem obvious, watching the news in the past week:
Snooze-a-rama: PBS' "The News Hour With Jim Lehrer" is claustrophobic and boring, because everyone just sits and delivers. Can PBS not afford to send reporters to the field to interview Americans? At least "News Hour's" political round tables are calm affairs balanced on the left and right, unlike conservative-centric ditto heads on Fox.
Funniest 'Tell': On Fox's "Special Report With Brit Hume," Ainsley Earhardt announced, "The GOP went one-for-two in Tuesday's gubernatorial races." Fox denies it's the GOP News, but that's hard to believe when something's phrased in terms of how the party is batting.
Biggest Smirk: Hume looks like he gets a charge out of any negative Clinton story. And there are oh, so many negative Clinton stories on "Special Report."
Sloppiest News: CNN's Wolf Blitzer's "The Situation Room" deals in so much political shorthand that talking heads sometimes forget to attribute statements. Reporting on an anti-discrimination bill, CNN's Jessica Yellin referred to Nancy Pelosi's "radical homosexual agenda," making it sound like the reporter's thoughts rather than just a Republican attack ad.
Write What You Know: The broadcast and cable newscasts are obsessed with the stock market. Is this because anchors are rich? Blitzer candidly admitted: "We're also following another very important story right now -- one that's devastating to a lot of us who invest in the markets."
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
The three 5:30 p.m. newscasts may be little more than headline news in a 1970s format. But since cable news is obsessed with politicians, the Big Three broadcasts are the last evening frontier where TV reporters interview regular people for stories about what it's like to live in America.
Last week, ABC's Dan Harris talked to Cleveland residents about the "economic rape" of mortgage foreclosures on hundreds of houses, which are morphing into crack dens.
You don't see that kind of work, much, during the same half-hour on cable news.
I realized this while watching far too many hours of the past week's news on NBC, ABC, CBS, PBS, Fox, CNN and MSNBC. The broadcasters essentially cover the same stories the same ways. But there are slight differences:
The groove finder
After catching flak for a fluffy first year at "CBS Evening News," anchor and managing editor Katie Couric now flexes traditional news judgment in a conventional show.
In fact, two back-to-back stories on Friday were riveting and hard-hitting -- and they profiled ordinary people: about Vioxx's $5 billion bad-drug settlement, and about an insurance company giving bonuses to employees for dropping cancer patients to save money. (ABC and NBC also did those stories well.)
Best talker
Brian Williams writes descriptively and exercises the most solid news judgment at "NBC Nightly News."
Williams has a knack for boiling things down without sounding like he's condescending to 8-year-olds. He said about a dangerous kid's product, "If you have this toy in your home, take it away from your children." Introducing another story, he quickly defined ethanol as being "squeezed from corn."
Williams also had the week's best Chicago reference, saying of the space shuttle landing: "May your next landing at O'Hare be this smooth."
The steady hand
"ABC World News With Charles Gibson" is the sober, succinct newscast. It's basically just the facts. And for all the grief we critics have heaped on Couric, it was Gibson who twice teased a story with the crazy sentence, "They call him 'The Bear Whisperer!' "
I've always liked Gibson. But Elizabeth Vargas filled in Friday, and she presented an even more serious-toned half-hour. Maybe there's hope for her yet.
The three 5:30 p.m. newscasts may be little more than headline news in a 1970s format. But since cable news is obsessed with politicians, the Big Three broadcasts are the last evening frontier where TV reporters interview regular people for stories about what it's like to live in America.
Last week, ABC's Dan Harris talked to Cleveland residents about the "economic rape" of mortgage foreclosures on hundreds of houses, which are morphing into crack dens.
You don't see that kind of work, much, during the same half-hour on cable news.
I realized this while watching far too many hours of the past week's news on NBC, ABC, CBS, PBS, Fox, CNN and MSNBC. The broadcasters essentially cover the same stories the same ways. But there are slight differences.
KATIE COURIC
'CBS Evening News'
Couric has abandoned her failed experiment of fluff and now presents a statelier newscast, with just a smidgeon of goofy features (no goofier than ABC and NBC's lighter fare).
After catching flak for a fluffy first year at "CBS Evening News," anchor and managing editor Katie Couric now flexes traditional news judgment in a conventional show.
In fact, two back-to-back stories on Friday were riveting and hard-hitting -- and they profiled ordinary people: about Vioxx's $5 billion bad-drug settlement, and about an insurance company giving bonuses to employees for dropping cancer patients to save money. (ABC and NBC also did those stories well.)
CHARLES GIBSON
'ABC's World News'
The news old-school style: no fuss, no muss.
"ABC World News With Charles Gibson" is the sober, succinct newscast. It's basically just the facts. And for all the grief we critics have heaped on Couric, it was Gibson who twice teased a story with the crazy sentence, "They call him 'The Bear Whisperer!' "
I've always liked Gibson. But Elizabeth Vargas filled in Friday, and she presented an even more serious-toned half-hour. Maybe there's hope for her yet.
BRIAN WILLIAMS
'NBC Nightly News'
For graceful narratives that give stories clear meaning in context, he's the winner.
Brian Williams writes descriptively and exercises the most solid news judgment at "NBC Nightly News."
Williams has a knack for boiling things down without sounding like he's condescending to 8-year-olds. He said about a dangerous kid's product, "If you have this toy in your home, take it away from your children." Introducing another story, he quickly defined ethanol as being "squeezed from corn."
Williams also had the week's best Chicago reference, saying of the space shuttle landing: "May your next landing at O'Hare be this smooth."
Stating obvious is a big turnoff
November 13, 2007
By Doug Elfman
Regular Americans are an endangered species on TV news. Instead, cable newscasts in particular -- but broadcasters, too -- pay ex-politicians and their aides to lobby the same opinions, over and over and over.
That system isn't news. But the result is depressing from a journalistic standpoint: Ordinary people have been replaced in news reports by political wonks engaging in a national poli-sci class, arguing over just two social theories (Democratic and Republican) and their horserace for a leader.
It's no wonder some fed-up viewers have given up watching TV news.
CNN and Fox regurgitate congressional infighting the way local newscasts cover city councils. It's just louder than that. And it's not the news. It's news-eque. News-ish. Or as the logo behind Wolf Blitzer's "The Situation Room" brags, "CNN = Politics."
Several things seem obvious, watching the news in the past week:
Snooze-a-rama: PBS' "The News Hour With Jim Lehrer" is claustrophobic and boring, because everyone just sits and delivers. Can PBS not afford to send reporters to the field to interview Americans? At least "News Hour's" political round tables are calm affairs balanced on the left and right, unlike conservative-centric ditto heads on Fox.
Funniest 'Tell': On Fox's "Special Report With Brit Hume," Ainsley Earhardt announced, "The GOP went one-for-two in Tuesday's gubernatorial races." Fox denies it's the GOP News, but that's hard to believe when something's phrased in terms of how the party is batting.
Biggest Smirk: Hume looks like he gets a charge out of any negative Clinton story. And there are oh, so many negative Clinton stories on "Special Report."
Sloppiest News: CNN's Wolf Blitzer's "The Situation Room" deals in so much political shorthand that talking heads sometimes forget to attribute statements. Reporting on an anti-discrimination bill, CNN's Jessica Yellin referred to Nancy Pelosi's "radical homosexual agenda," making it sound like the reporter's thoughts rather than just a Republican attack ad.
Write What You Know: The broadcast and cable newscasts are obsessed with the stock market. Is this because anchors are rich? Blitzer candidly admitted: "We're also following another very important story right now -- one that's devastating to a lot of us who invest in the markets."
Tugging on superman's cape
November 11, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
What happened to "Heroes?" This season, it's kinda dumb, ploddingly paced and testing viewers' patience by delaying good action and storylines, other than some flying boy zipping through the sky with Claire in his arms, a la "Superman." Yuck.
Yet it's still getting good ratings. But so does terrible "Desperate Housewives." Quality-wise, "Heroes" had better get over its sophomore slump or it could be eclipsed as the go-to superhero show.
There is certainly a better choice for your comic-book fix. The CW's "Reaper" is the most consistently entertaining and funny new show of 2007. It's about a guy who works, against his will, as a bounty hunter for the devil, capturing escaped demons on Earth.
Of course, whenever I tell people they should watch "Reaper" on the CW, some say, "C-What now? Is that the country-western station?" No, it's the network (on WGN-Channel 9) that merged both the WB and UPN.
All that being said, "Heroes" remains one of TV's better hours. Or maybe I'm just a fan who won't give up.
It was certainly a mistake to resurrect Sylar. Keeping the villain alive took all the wind out of last season's finale when Sylar "died." Why watch "Heroes" if it's going to pull the rug out from under me again?
Also, Peter, the show's central dude, did almost nothing in Ireland -- for weeks.
The only cool character is Monica, the "copycat" girl. She can intuitively and immediately imitate anything she sees, such as playing the piano and kicking people's arses as if she's Bruce Lee.
But if you want to check out new entries in the comic-book hero genre, here's what's been happening with the other superpeople shows brought to air after "Heroes" became a hit last year:
'Reaper' (8 p.m. Tue., CW)
"Reaper's" ratings keep climbing, but not as much as it deserves. The stars -- Bret Harrison (Sam), Tyler Labine (Sock) and Ray Wise (the devil) -- have made me laugh every week with droll and silly-smart humor.
A few weeks ago, Sam was smarting off at the devil, and Wise (known earlier for being the evil guy on "Twin Peaks") got this hurt look on his face and slouched disapprovingly: "Sam. Sarcasm is the lowest form of social interaction."
The brains behind the comedy are Tara Butters and Michele Fazekas. They wrote a bunch for "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit," and Butters spent some time at "The X-Files." Their steady hands are clearly assured.
It's great, great, great.
'Bionic Woman' (8 p.m. Wed., NBC)
"Bionic Woman" writers know they face an uphill struggle to survive a first year on the air. So they're packing scripts with plenty of action and quick dialogue. It's not a great drama, but it's moderately entertaining, with promise for growth.
Jaime Sommers (Michelle Ryan) faces a new challenge every week, and her long-term character arc is being fitted into her adventures, instead of the other way around.
The best little jolts of fun come from Molly Price as Ruth Treadwell, one of Jaime's spy bosses; she brings lighter moments of much-needed deadpan humor.
'Journeyman' (9:01 p.m. Mon., NBC)
"Journeyman" is trying to make headway into its premise of a San Francisco newspaperman who travels back in time to do good deeds. It's not totally clicking, but it's not horrible.
In a perfect world, NBC would be able to let this drama run for a long time so it can continue to improve. It doesn't look like it'll ever be a "Heroes" or a "Quantum Leap," but who knows.
'Chuck' (7 p.m. Mon., NBC)
"Chuck" began very promising, yet has settled into a routine of OK-ness. After becoming an accidental spy equipped with a head full of super knowledge, Chuck is tracking down bad guys once a week.
That's dandy, but Chuck and the lady spy he likes and works with, Sarah, are doing one of those excruciating will-they/won't-they dances, and it's getting on my last nerve. Do it already, Chuck and Sarah, or do it with someone else.
'Pushing Daisies' (7 p.m. Wed., ABC)
"Pushing Daisies" is not as stellar as it started this fall. But it is quite lovely, and Ned's power to bring people back to life -- to find out who killed them -- is being explored creatively.
But like "Chuck," it's romantically frustrating. Ned and his lady, Chuck, can never touch, or else his power will kill her.
It's been cool watching them dance in bee suits and hold hands in gloves. But maybe they can figure out how to use gloves more seductively.
On the horizon
Come 2008, a few new superpeople shows come to your rescue. Fox is slated to debut a "Terminator" show (the title always seems to be in flux). Fox allowed critics to view the first episode -- loved it.
CBS is going with "New Amsterdam," a romantic show about a guy who's been living for centuries. He's not a vampire. He just rolls that way, or something. I liked the first episode. But will the will-they/won't-they romance become annoying?
And in the spring, NBC was supposed to spin off "Heroes," a plan now put in limbo by the TV writers' strike. If it happens, the six-episode "Heroes: Origins" will show us non-"Heroes" superpeople as they find out they're special. Any who seems great could be exported to the "Heroes" mothership.
Stay tuned for "Heroes: Special Victims Unit?"
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
What happened to "Heroes?" This season, it's kinda dumb, ploddingly paced and testing viewers' patience by delaying good action and storylines, other than some flying boy zipping through the sky with Claire in his arms, a la "Superman." Yuck.
Yet it's still getting good ratings. But so does terrible "Desperate Housewives." Quality-wise, "Heroes" had better get over its sophomore slump or it could be eclipsed as the go-to superhero show.
There is certainly a better choice for your comic-book fix. The CW's "Reaper" is the most consistently entertaining and funny new show of 2007. It's about a guy who works, against his will, as a bounty hunter for the devil, capturing escaped demons on Earth.
Of course, whenever I tell people they should watch "Reaper" on the CW, some say, "C-What now? Is that the country-western station?" No, it's the network (on WGN-Channel 9) that merged both the WB and UPN.
All that being said, "Heroes" remains one of TV's better hours. Or maybe I'm just a fan who won't give up.
It was certainly a mistake to resurrect Sylar. Keeping the villain alive took all the wind out of last season's finale when Sylar "died." Why watch "Heroes" if it's going to pull the rug out from under me again?
Also, Peter, the show's central dude, did almost nothing in Ireland -- for weeks.
The only cool character is Monica, the "copycat" girl. She can intuitively and immediately imitate anything she sees, such as playing the piano and kicking people's arses as if she's Bruce Lee.
But if you want to check out new entries in the comic-book hero genre, here's what's been happening with the other superpeople shows brought to air after "Heroes" became a hit last year:
'Reaper' (8 p.m. Tue., CW)
"Reaper's" ratings keep climbing, but not as much as it deserves. The stars -- Bret Harrison (Sam), Tyler Labine (Sock) and Ray Wise (the devil) -- have made me laugh every week with droll and silly-smart humor.
A few weeks ago, Sam was smarting off at the devil, and Wise (known earlier for being the evil guy on "Twin Peaks") got this hurt look on his face and slouched disapprovingly: "Sam. Sarcasm is the lowest form of social interaction."
The brains behind the comedy are Tara Butters and Michele Fazekas. They wrote a bunch for "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit," and Butters spent some time at "The X-Files." Their steady hands are clearly assured.
It's great, great, great.
'Bionic Woman' (8 p.m. Wed., NBC)
"Bionic Woman" writers know they face an uphill struggle to survive a first year on the air. So they're packing scripts with plenty of action and quick dialogue. It's not a great drama, but it's moderately entertaining, with promise for growth.
Jaime Sommers (Michelle Ryan) faces a new challenge every week, and her long-term character arc is being fitted into her adventures, instead of the other way around.
The best little jolts of fun come from Molly Price as Ruth Treadwell, one of Jaime's spy bosses; she brings lighter moments of much-needed deadpan humor.
'Journeyman' (9:01 p.m. Mon., NBC)
"Journeyman" is trying to make headway into its premise of a San Francisco newspaperman who travels back in time to do good deeds. It's not totally clicking, but it's not horrible.
In a perfect world, NBC would be able to let this drama run for a long time so it can continue to improve. It doesn't look like it'll ever be a "Heroes" or a "Quantum Leap," but who knows.
'Chuck' (7 p.m. Mon., NBC)
"Chuck" began very promising, yet has settled into a routine of OK-ness. After becoming an accidental spy equipped with a head full of super knowledge, Chuck is tracking down bad guys once a week.
That's dandy, but Chuck and the lady spy he likes and works with, Sarah, are doing one of those excruciating will-they/won't-they dances, and it's getting on my last nerve. Do it already, Chuck and Sarah, or do it with someone else.
'Pushing Daisies' (7 p.m. Wed., ABC)
"Pushing Daisies" is not as stellar as it started this fall. But it is quite lovely, and Ned's power to bring people back to life -- to find out who killed them -- is being explored creatively.
But like "Chuck," it's romantically frustrating. Ned and his lady, Chuck, can never touch, or else his power will kill her.
It's been cool watching them dance in bee suits and hold hands in gloves. But maybe they can figure out how to use gloves more seductively.
On the horizon
Come 2008, a few new superpeople shows come to your rescue. Fox is slated to debut a "Terminator" show (the title always seems to be in flux). Fox allowed critics to view the first episode -- loved it.
CBS is going with "New Amsterdam," a romantic show about a guy who's been living for centuries. He's not a vampire. He just rolls that way, or something. I liked the first episode. But will the will-they/won't-they romance become annoying?
And in the spring, NBC was supposed to spin off "Heroes," a plan now put in limbo by the TV writers' strike. If it happens, the six-episode "Heroes: Origins" will show us non-"Heroes" superpeople as they find out they're special. Any who seems great could be exported to the "Heroes" mothership.
Stay tuned for "Heroes: Special Victims Unit?"
delfman@suntimes.com
It's time to fix late-night talk
November 8, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
David Letterman wouldn't stop making jokes at Paris Hilton's teary-eyed expense. She lost her smirk for once. A few months out of jail, her voice cracked, and all she wanted to do was promote her perfume on TV.
A guy in the audience screamed, "I love you, Paris!" She said back, "I love you too."
"Somebody you met in prison?" Letterman quipped.
Paris complained the interview was making her sad.
"Please don't be sad. Are you really sad? Nooo," Letterman pleaded to Paris like a father, then said a nanosecond later. "Are you feeling better now? I'll buy you a parakeet!"
There won't be any new moments like that for a while, now that the Writers Guild strike has stopped the flow of new episodes from Letterman, Leno and friends (although you can still see the eight-minute clip if you look up "Letterman Paris" on YouTube.)
Then again, this was one of Letterman's finer and more unusual moments of the year: a celebrity interview on late-night TV that wasn't cloying.
There's the rub. Late-night hosts can either provide sharp entertainment for wakeful viewers like me, or they can continue to offer butt-kissing tedium for drowsy viewers who don't want to be jarred from sleepy time.
Except for the occasional Letterman interview of Paris or Michael Richards -- safe stars to scorn, since the news vilified them first -- nighttime hosts adhere to the dead-fish formula of asking stupid questions of smiley celebrities telling us nothing genuine or interesting.
Questions and answers are worked out in pre-interviews. Who could possibly experience a safer state of mind than film stars and politicians sitting on Jay Leno's couch?
It's been no surprise "The Daily Show With Jon Stewart" has taken the place of Letterman and "Saturday Night Live" as the zeitgeist of late-night. Stewart killed the dead-fish template and serves up shark and snark. He and "The Colbert Report" do not go gentle into that good night.
So maybe the other bedtime talkers should embrace the writers' strike as an opportunity to view Stewart and Stephen Colbert, and re-evaluate how they can similarly approach guests.
If Leno were to break free of his "love me, I'm a nice guy" DNA and tried to engage actors more forcefully and stop shilling for politicians, it would be awkward at first. He's not used to it. And some viewers who want sleepy-time Jay might turn him off.
But it would make for more interesting TV. And isn't good TV what Jay wants? Or must we be content with letting stars giggle us into dreamland?
delfman@suntimes.com
November 8, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
David Letterman and Johnny Carson honored the 1988 writers strike by airing reruns -- for a while. They eventually went back on the air without writers, partly to help directors and other cast members pay their bills.
Some of today's late-night talk shows could pull off an hour without skits and monologues, though others might just seem awkward.
"Late Show With David Letterman": Since Dave has the biggest brain and the most gravitas, he could ad lib endlessly with interviewees and during desk blab. But how many thoughts do actors and actresses have in there?
"The Tonight Show With Jay Leno": How on Earth could Jay string together an hour every night without the aid of aides? Seems highly unlikely as a creative endeavor.
"Late Night With Conan O'Brien": Conan at least tries to get guests to do wacky things, since he considers "Late Night" to be more of a variety show than anything else. That style would be too hard to do now.
"Jimmy Kimmel Live": Jimmy is smart. Too smart to attempt his choreographed segments without a full staff.
"The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson": Craig is in a good position to wing a monologue, since that's his approach most nights anyway, riffing freestyle on news and pop culture. Only Letterman might have an easier time making the transition look easy.
"Last Call With Carson Daly": No friggin' way.
Doug Elfman
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
David Letterman wouldn't stop making jokes at Paris Hilton's teary-eyed expense. She lost her smirk for once. A few months out of jail, her voice cracked, and all she wanted to do was promote her perfume on TV.
A guy in the audience screamed, "I love you, Paris!" She said back, "I love you too."
"Somebody you met in prison?" Letterman quipped.
Paris complained the interview was making her sad.
"Please don't be sad. Are you really sad? Nooo," Letterman pleaded to Paris like a father, then said a nanosecond later. "Are you feeling better now? I'll buy you a parakeet!"
There won't be any new moments like that for a while, now that the Writers Guild strike has stopped the flow of new episodes from Letterman, Leno and friends (although you can still see the eight-minute clip if you look up "Letterman Paris" on YouTube.)
Then again, this was one of Letterman's finer and more unusual moments of the year: a celebrity interview on late-night TV that wasn't cloying.
There's the rub. Late-night hosts can either provide sharp entertainment for wakeful viewers like me, or they can continue to offer butt-kissing tedium for drowsy viewers who don't want to be jarred from sleepy time.
Except for the occasional Letterman interview of Paris or Michael Richards -- safe stars to scorn, since the news vilified them first -- nighttime hosts adhere to the dead-fish formula of asking stupid questions of smiley celebrities telling us nothing genuine or interesting.
Questions and answers are worked out in pre-interviews. Who could possibly experience a safer state of mind than film stars and politicians sitting on Jay Leno's couch?
It's been no surprise "The Daily Show With Jon Stewart" has taken the place of Letterman and "Saturday Night Live" as the zeitgeist of late-night. Stewart killed the dead-fish template and serves up shark and snark. He and "The Colbert Report" do not go gentle into that good night.
So maybe the other bedtime talkers should embrace the writers' strike as an opportunity to view Stewart and Stephen Colbert, and re-evaluate how they can similarly approach guests.
If Leno were to break free of his "love me, I'm a nice guy" DNA and tried to engage actors more forcefully and stop shilling for politicians, it would be awkward at first. He's not used to it. And some viewers who want sleepy-time Jay might turn him off.
But it would make for more interesting TV. And isn't good TV what Jay wants? Or must we be content with letting stars giggle us into dreamland?
delfman@suntimes.com
November 8, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
David Letterman and Johnny Carson honored the 1988 writers strike by airing reruns -- for a while. They eventually went back on the air without writers, partly to help directors and other cast members pay their bills.
Some of today's late-night talk shows could pull off an hour without skits and monologues, though others might just seem awkward.
"Late Show With David Letterman": Since Dave has the biggest brain and the most gravitas, he could ad lib endlessly with interviewees and during desk blab. But how many thoughts do actors and actresses have in there?
"The Tonight Show With Jay Leno": How on Earth could Jay string together an hour every night without the aid of aides? Seems highly unlikely as a creative endeavor.
"Late Night With Conan O'Brien": Conan at least tries to get guests to do wacky things, since he considers "Late Night" to be more of a variety show than anything else. That style would be too hard to do now.
"Jimmy Kimmel Live": Jimmy is smart. Too smart to attempt his choreographed segments without a full staff.
"The Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson": Craig is in a good position to wing a monologue, since that's his approach most nights anyway, riffing freestyle on news and pop culture. Only Letterman might have an easier time making the transition look easy.
"Last Call With Carson Daly": No friggin' way.
Doug Elfman
'Gossip Girl' is so bad, so smarmy, so deliciously wicked that it's actually good
November 4, 2007
Doug Elfman
TV Critic
Nate observed the party. Debauchery was to begin shortly. But Nate unexpectedly questioned his idle life of wealth. His pinky young face flushed under an anime hairdo.
"The money, the drugs, the privileges," Nate told his best friend Chuck. "They're just keeping us numb, so we don't know it's better out there in the real world."
Chuck sneered, appearing fey/preppy/same thing with his upturned collars and old-money affectation. (He rides a limo to prep school).
"Everyone out there wants to be us," Chuck clucked back at Nate. "We are to be aspired to, and not run away from."
Unconvinced by Chuck's logic, Nate strayed, then returned like a good trust-fund baby after he tasted the real world for an hour or two. The real world is bitter and poor.
Nate (Chace Crawford) and Chuck (Ed Westwick) make up the male half of "Gossip Girl," the best-watched TV show among teens. It was last week's No. 1 and No. 10 downloads on iTunes. It's a big online video draw. Culturally, it could be the new "O.C.," maybe even the new "Melrose Place."
Funny. When it debuted a month ago, "Gossip Girl" seemed cardboard, smarmy, yet so bad it was almost good. Soon, it became not just popular but a rarer thing: actually entertaining while simultaneously ridiculous.
For one thing, "Gossip" teens talk much smarter than the girls of "The Hills" do. Dan, the requisitely ethical "poor" boy (the son of a former rock star), judged one mean girl as being a "95-pound, doe-eyed, bon-mot-tossing, label-whoring package of girly evil. ... I'd barely be exaggerating if I told you Medusa wants her withering glare back."
The pace, produced by "O.C." creator Josh Schwartz, doesn't rush or stall. Other soaps stretch dramas for a season. "Gossip Girl" cycles through spats in weeks.
It is a girly nighttime soap, so the main half of "Gossip Girl" visits the jagged friendship of Serena (Blake Lively) and Blair (Leighton Meester).
Blair understandably behaved maliciously with Serena for a while, after Serena bedded Blair's boyfriend Nate. But now the girls are BFF again, which prompted the voice-over narrator (Kristen Bell) to exclaim, "WTF?"
Before Serena and Blair made nice-nice, they cat-fought in short school uniform skirts during field hockey, and Serena unleashed some wicked nasty.
"I always knew you were a whore. I never took you for a liar, too," Blair simmered at Serena, who wishes to attend Brown University, though as Blair pointed out, "Brown doesn't offer degrees in slut."
It helps matters that the makers of "Gossip" realize this is a big crazy show, but the characters don't: The actors avoid going over the top; they play motivations straight. As opposed to, say, "Ugly Betty," in which actors seem delighted to portray wacky.
As things stand this week, everyone's getting along. Although, there are always complications.
Nate can't bring himself to break up with Blair (who's somehow a virgin). Nate thinks he loves Serena, but Serena is falling for Dan (Penn Badgley). Dan said Nate had an original thought last year, but it died of loneliness.
Viewer appeal for "Gossip Girl" seems simple to deduct. First, our heroes and villains are fresh-faced. They feel love and spite sooo much, but in a young way, not a jaded way, not like the old sores of "Sex and the City" or the cold bores of "Dirty Sexy Money."
"Gossip Girl" offers wish fulfillment via the Manhattan social scene. But it's also hate fulfillment. That is, everyone is fairly easy to despise or envy, because like in any soap, the "good" people do bad things, and the "bad" people do good things.
Yet, boys and girls have the wherewithal to know if devils or angels alight their shoulders.
"I am a bitch when I want to be," Chuck snarled while collecting dirt on Serena with cruel intentions.
Chuck and his future Ivy Leaguer pals profit on their Upper East Side crests (the van der Woodsens, the Waldorfs, the Archibalds) like so much affirmative action for bluebloods.
But which class is watching "Gossip Girl"? If commercials give any indication, it's not the van der Woodsens, Waldorfs and Archibalds. Ad breaks push $4 hair products, McDonald's, Payless, TJ Maxx and birth control pills. Jaguar isn't buying airtime.
As ad dollars roll in, "Gossip Girl" is getting flashier in budget, as seen in a delicate costume ball in the last episode. And a current promotional ad is one of TV's slickest of the year, flashing "LUST" and "REVENGE" in between throbbing images of bedroom romps and cherry-licking.
In that ad, a "Gossip" girl asks, "You can keep a secret, right?" If she expects discretion, lasting sympathy or easy living on "Gossip Girl," she is wildly mistaken. But these kids are always mistaken about something. Wrong is what they do best.
delfman@suntimes.com
Doug Elfman
TV Critic
Nate observed the party. Debauchery was to begin shortly. But Nate unexpectedly questioned his idle life of wealth. His pinky young face flushed under an anime hairdo.
"The money, the drugs, the privileges," Nate told his best friend Chuck. "They're just keeping us numb, so we don't know it's better out there in the real world."
Chuck sneered, appearing fey/preppy/same thing with his upturned collars and old-money affectation. (He rides a limo to prep school).
"Everyone out there wants to be us," Chuck clucked back at Nate. "We are to be aspired to, and not run away from."
Unconvinced by Chuck's logic, Nate strayed, then returned like a good trust-fund baby after he tasted the real world for an hour or two. The real world is bitter and poor.
Nate (Chace Crawford) and Chuck (Ed Westwick) make up the male half of "Gossip Girl," the best-watched TV show among teens. It was last week's No. 1 and No. 10 downloads on iTunes. It's a big online video draw. Culturally, it could be the new "O.C.," maybe even the new "Melrose Place."
Funny. When it debuted a month ago, "Gossip Girl" seemed cardboard, smarmy, yet so bad it was almost good. Soon, it became not just popular but a rarer thing: actually entertaining while simultaneously ridiculous.
For one thing, "Gossip" teens talk much smarter than the girls of "The Hills" do. Dan, the requisitely ethical "poor" boy (the son of a former rock star), judged one mean girl as being a "95-pound, doe-eyed, bon-mot-tossing, label-whoring package of girly evil. ... I'd barely be exaggerating if I told you Medusa wants her withering glare back."
The pace, produced by "O.C." creator Josh Schwartz, doesn't rush or stall. Other soaps stretch dramas for a season. "Gossip Girl" cycles through spats in weeks.
It is a girly nighttime soap, so the main half of "Gossip Girl" visits the jagged friendship of Serena (Blake Lively) and Blair (Leighton Meester).
Blair understandably behaved maliciously with Serena for a while, after Serena bedded Blair's boyfriend Nate. But now the girls are BFF again, which prompted the voice-over narrator (Kristen Bell) to exclaim, "WTF?"
Before Serena and Blair made nice-nice, they cat-fought in short school uniform skirts during field hockey, and Serena unleashed some wicked nasty.
"I always knew you were a whore. I never took you for a liar, too," Blair simmered at Serena, who wishes to attend Brown University, though as Blair pointed out, "Brown doesn't offer degrees in slut."
It helps matters that the makers of "Gossip" realize this is a big crazy show, but the characters don't: The actors avoid going over the top; they play motivations straight. As opposed to, say, "Ugly Betty," in which actors seem delighted to portray wacky.
As things stand this week, everyone's getting along. Although, there are always complications.
Nate can't bring himself to break up with Blair (who's somehow a virgin). Nate thinks he loves Serena, but Serena is falling for Dan (Penn Badgley). Dan said Nate had an original thought last year, but it died of loneliness.
Viewer appeal for "Gossip Girl" seems simple to deduct. First, our heroes and villains are fresh-faced. They feel love and spite sooo much, but in a young way, not a jaded way, not like the old sores of "Sex and the City" or the cold bores of "Dirty Sexy Money."
"Gossip Girl" offers wish fulfillment via the Manhattan social scene. But it's also hate fulfillment. That is, everyone is fairly easy to despise or envy, because like in any soap, the "good" people do bad things, and the "bad" people do good things.
Yet, boys and girls have the wherewithal to know if devils or angels alight their shoulders.
"I am a bitch when I want to be," Chuck snarled while collecting dirt on Serena with cruel intentions.
Chuck and his future Ivy Leaguer pals profit on their Upper East Side crests (the van der Woodsens, the Waldorfs, the Archibalds) like so much affirmative action for bluebloods.
But which class is watching "Gossip Girl"? If commercials give any indication, it's not the van der Woodsens, Waldorfs and Archibalds. Ad breaks push $4 hair products, McDonald's, Payless, TJ Maxx and birth control pills. Jaguar isn't buying airtime.
As ad dollars roll in, "Gossip Girl" is getting flashier in budget, as seen in a delicate costume ball in the last episode. And a current promotional ad is one of TV's slickest of the year, flashing "LUST" and "REVENGE" in between throbbing images of bedroom romps and cherry-licking.
In that ad, a "Gossip" girl asks, "You can keep a secret, right?" If she expects discretion, lasting sympathy or easy living on "Gossip Girl," she is wildly mistaken. But these kids are always mistaken about something. Wrong is what they do best.
delfman@suntimes.com
Kurtz's 'Reality' bites - and it shouldn't
November 4, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN delfman@suntimes.com
Howard Kurtz gave his new book the wrong title. Reality Show: Inside the Last Great Television News War is really about The First Inconsequential Television News War, since it's obsessed with the current TV news anchors.
Charlie Gibson, Brian Williams and Katie Couric earn certain merits. But the last Great TV News War starred Peter Jennings vs. Tom Brokaw vs. Dan Rather. Or Bill Clinton vs. Fox News.
As Kurtz points out, the winning newscast on a given night draws 8 million viewers. A few Wednesdays ago, NBC's "Deal or No Deal" barely made the prime time Top 20 with a mere 12.4 million viewers.
In other words, who cares this much about these anchors? Especially since Kurtz thinks it's terrible that just about the only people still watching are political junkies and dying old ladies?
Oh, wait. We're supposed to care about the quality of TV news. Oh, right. Well, here's Kurtz, who's probably America's most exposed media critic (in the Washington Post and on CNN), but he doesn't include his own extended firsthand critique of the anchors until he gets to the Epilogue on page 427! He then criticizes them for not using their power more often to make risky social statements -- at the same time Kurtz is not issuing many risky statements about the anchors or the evening news.
Worse still, this eight-page epilogue credits Gibson, Williams and Couric for being "as good as any in the past," and it's a good thing they're national hand-holders -- even though they sensationalize "rip 'n' read" stories from the New York Times. Huh? What? Can you repeat that in my good ear?
Kurtz's holding back on his judgments makes no sense. He spends the first 426 pages reciting the daily machinations of the anchors and their bosses. The style is thus: Kurtz interviewed them, then he wrote up the thoughts from their egotistical heads in omnipotent third person.
As with Tom Wolfe's style, you always know you're actually reading the words these people told him, minus newspapery attributions of "he said" and "she said."
While Kurtz goes into 10,000 emotionless outlines of minutiae, he lets you the reader draw conclusions about the players. Hello?! You are Howard Kurtz. Don't you know who you are? You are on the witness stand. Testify, already.
To put it bluntly, Reality Show is a snooze for no good reason other than he doesn't wish to seriously slam his fellow TV stars and their bosses. Either that, or he doesn't believe they deserve wrath or indignation.
The reason I'm being so hard on Reality Show is: A) it bored me unmercilessly; B) Kurtz squandered a great opportunity to use his weight to file serious grievances about TV news; C) each chapter reads like the lighthearted profile features he complains are filling up TV news, and D) there's not one reference to PBS or Web sites such as Wonkette, and barely any to CNN, Fox and DailyKos.com, so contextual pressures from other information sources is lacking.
Kurtz has plenty of material he could have riffed on. Two little moments in particular are appalling -- events that should be journalistic scandals.
Worst of all: CBS's crack Iraq reporter Lara Logan tried filing a serious story featuring graphic video of various deaths on a day of war, but producer Rome Hartman wouldn't run it, because it was too "raw" for him. Aww, poor baby Rome didn't want to report THE NEWS because it was REAL and INFORMATIVE like it's supposed to be.
Logan was, however, asked to do an upbeat feature story about women soldiers who distracted themselves by "keeping cyber-pets online."
"I would rather stick needles in my eyes than spend one second of my time on that story," she e-mailed her boss.
Maybe Logan should have written this book.
Second-worst of all: When Couric was at the "Today" show, NBC President Bob Wright pressed Couric to be softer (after she asked Condoleezza Rice hard questions) by forwarding one -- ONE -- nasty reader complaint to her.
Aww, big baby Bob Wright didn't want a journalist to do journalism for fear of insulting a single Republican viewer while millions of others did not complain.
How could Kurtz let these bits of his reporting go into Reality Show without weighing in intensely, or blowing them into full-on chapters unto themselves? These are exactly the kinds of decisions that are destroying TV news, which is supposed to be a big topic of the book.
As for his writing, there's no compelling voice in Kurtz. No poetry. No prose. Just fact, fact, fact. All the President's Men was free of eloquence, too, but it was about a most serious thing. Reality Show is about TV anchors. Not so grave.
If you believe everything in it, you see three anchors with small but discernible differences in news judgment. Williams is sharper than he's been given credit for, though he's too sensitive to criticism from viewers and politicians. Gibson honors Peter Jennings' legacy with his presence; his weakness is talking too diplomatically with politicians, using such phrases as "I mean no disrespect in this"; and thin-skinned, "shell shocked" Katie "Bite Me" Couric could be a solid anchor in 10 years if she doesn't quit or get canned by 2009.
All of them should stop bending over backward to snap photos with politicians and giving into their stupid on-the-record and off-the-record interview "gets" and "gotchas." "Gets" and "gotchas" are good for internal crowing among journalists. Few others care or notice. In the meantime, TV journalists are selling their souls for "exclusives" and presidential access, which usually only serves the interests of politicians.
But Kurtz mostly muzzles his own such findings. For instance, he portrays NBC's David Gregory as a respectfully demanding White House Press Corps reporter. Very true, but Kurtz never tsk-tsks Gregory for dancing on stage with Karl Rove at a press event last winter.
To glean such analysis from Reality Show takes suffering through chapters that read like long Wikipedia entries regarding tidbits which, oftentimes, were already reported these past few years.
So, if I ever want to read this stuff again, I'll wait for Wikipedia volunteers to steal the best parts and post them online. As Kurtz keeps insisting, the Web is where the action is now, anyway.
Doug Elfman is the Sun-Times TV critic.
REALITY SHOW
INSIDE THE LAST GREAT TELEVISION NEWS WAR
By Howard Kurtz
Free Press, 480 pages, $26
BY DOUG ELFMAN delfman@suntimes.com
Howard Kurtz gave his new book the wrong title. Reality Show: Inside the Last Great Television News War is really about The First Inconsequential Television News War, since it's obsessed with the current TV news anchors.
Charlie Gibson, Brian Williams and Katie Couric earn certain merits. But the last Great TV News War starred Peter Jennings vs. Tom Brokaw vs. Dan Rather. Or Bill Clinton vs. Fox News.
As Kurtz points out, the winning newscast on a given night draws 8 million viewers. A few Wednesdays ago, NBC's "Deal or No Deal" barely made the prime time Top 20 with a mere 12.4 million viewers.
In other words, who cares this much about these anchors? Especially since Kurtz thinks it's terrible that just about the only people still watching are political junkies and dying old ladies?
Oh, wait. We're supposed to care about the quality of TV news. Oh, right. Well, here's Kurtz, who's probably America's most exposed media critic (in the Washington Post and on CNN), but he doesn't include his own extended firsthand critique of the anchors until he gets to the Epilogue on page 427! He then criticizes them for not using their power more often to make risky social statements -- at the same time Kurtz is not issuing many risky statements about the anchors or the evening news.
Worse still, this eight-page epilogue credits Gibson, Williams and Couric for being "as good as any in the past," and it's a good thing they're national hand-holders -- even though they sensationalize "rip 'n' read" stories from the New York Times. Huh? What? Can you repeat that in my good ear?
Kurtz's holding back on his judgments makes no sense. He spends the first 426 pages reciting the daily machinations of the anchors and their bosses. The style is thus: Kurtz interviewed them, then he wrote up the thoughts from their egotistical heads in omnipotent third person.
As with Tom Wolfe's style, you always know you're actually reading the words these people told him, minus newspapery attributions of "he said" and "she said."
While Kurtz goes into 10,000 emotionless outlines of minutiae, he lets you the reader draw conclusions about the players. Hello?! You are Howard Kurtz. Don't you know who you are? You are on the witness stand. Testify, already.
To put it bluntly, Reality Show is a snooze for no good reason other than he doesn't wish to seriously slam his fellow TV stars and their bosses. Either that, or he doesn't believe they deserve wrath or indignation.
The reason I'm being so hard on Reality Show is: A) it bored me unmercilessly; B) Kurtz squandered a great opportunity to use his weight to file serious grievances about TV news; C) each chapter reads like the lighthearted profile features he complains are filling up TV news, and D) there's not one reference to PBS or Web sites such as Wonkette, and barely any to CNN, Fox and DailyKos.com, so contextual pressures from other information sources is lacking.
Kurtz has plenty of material he could have riffed on. Two little moments in particular are appalling -- events that should be journalistic scandals.
Worst of all: CBS's crack Iraq reporter Lara Logan tried filing a serious story featuring graphic video of various deaths on a day of war, but producer Rome Hartman wouldn't run it, because it was too "raw" for him. Aww, poor baby Rome didn't want to report THE NEWS because it was REAL and INFORMATIVE like it's supposed to be.
Logan was, however, asked to do an upbeat feature story about women soldiers who distracted themselves by "keeping cyber-pets online."
"I would rather stick needles in my eyes than spend one second of my time on that story," she e-mailed her boss.
Maybe Logan should have written this book.
Second-worst of all: When Couric was at the "Today" show, NBC President Bob Wright pressed Couric to be softer (after she asked Condoleezza Rice hard questions) by forwarding one -- ONE -- nasty reader complaint to her.
Aww, big baby Bob Wright didn't want a journalist to do journalism for fear of insulting a single Republican viewer while millions of others did not complain.
How could Kurtz let these bits of his reporting go into Reality Show without weighing in intensely, or blowing them into full-on chapters unto themselves? These are exactly the kinds of decisions that are destroying TV news, which is supposed to be a big topic of the book.
As for his writing, there's no compelling voice in Kurtz. No poetry. No prose. Just fact, fact, fact. All the President's Men was free of eloquence, too, but it was about a most serious thing. Reality Show is about TV anchors. Not so grave.
If you believe everything in it, you see three anchors with small but discernible differences in news judgment. Williams is sharper than he's been given credit for, though he's too sensitive to criticism from viewers and politicians. Gibson honors Peter Jennings' legacy with his presence; his weakness is talking too diplomatically with politicians, using such phrases as "I mean no disrespect in this"; and thin-skinned, "shell shocked" Katie "Bite Me" Couric could be a solid anchor in 10 years if she doesn't quit or get canned by 2009.
All of them should stop bending over backward to snap photos with politicians and giving into their stupid on-the-record and off-the-record interview "gets" and "gotchas." "Gets" and "gotchas" are good for internal crowing among journalists. Few others care or notice. In the meantime, TV journalists are selling their souls for "exclusives" and presidential access, which usually only serves the interests of politicians.
But Kurtz mostly muzzles his own such findings. For instance, he portrays NBC's David Gregory as a respectfully demanding White House Press Corps reporter. Very true, but Kurtz never tsk-tsks Gregory for dancing on stage with Karl Rove at a press event last winter.
To glean such analysis from Reality Show takes suffering through chapters that read like long Wikipedia entries regarding tidbits which, oftentimes, were already reported these past few years.
So, if I ever want to read this stuff again, I'll wait for Wikipedia volunteers to steal the best parts and post them online. As Kurtz keeps insisting, the Web is where the action is now, anyway.
Doug Elfman is the Sun-Times TV critic.
REALITY SHOW
INSIDE THE LAST GREAT TELEVISION NEWS WAR
By Howard Kurtz
Free Press, 480 pages, $26
Michigan Ave. will be evident in 'CSI: NY' shots
October 30, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Like a lot of people on Monday, three tourists tried walking in front of the Tribune building. But a TV show was being filmed on the sidewalk, and a guy yelled at the out-of-towners to get out of his shot.
They sauntered to the entrance of the building. That's where they got walled in by actor-extras for a while.
"We're trapped -- in the set!" tourist Tracy said in good spirits. "They're being a little bossy with their movie thing, you know."
None of the tourists -- well-dressed thirtysomethings from Raleigh, N.C. -- would reveal their last names. Tourist Bob pointed to a red-headed guy wearing sunglasses and said, "Is that Horatio from 'CSI: Miami?' ... Why are they filming here?"
It wasn't "CSI: Miami." It was "CSI: NY." Gary Sinise and crew came to Chicago to film a day's worth of exterior shots for an episode running at the end of November.
Looking for evidence
The hit detective drama came downtown not only because Sinise grew up around here and is a product of Steppenwolf Theatre Company, but because producers want to explore the local background of his character, Mac.
A few months ago, a writer for the show informed his colleagues that there was this building in town with old rocks sticking out of it. The rocks were perfect because "we're constantly mining trace evidence" for forensic mysteries, said co-writer Zachary Reiter.
In some scenes filmed Monday, Mac was looking for trace-y clues in the rocks while kind of going rogue from his New York cop shop.
Temps were in the sunny 50s. Hollywooders in the crew of 150 (about half the size of the regular ensemble) shivered and suffered.
Eddie Cahill, who plays Detective Don Flack, said it was different but fun to shoot around the city's elements. "When you come to cities like Chicago and especially New York, you're almost squeezing them" into a scene, he said. "Hollywood was designed for this; it's like skiing in Vail."
In case acting dries up
Sinise, 52, was just in town Saturday to play bass in the Lt. Dan Band, named after his "Forrest Gump" role. "Most of the band's from here," said Sinise, a lifelong Cubs fan. "We'll be back in May at Joe's Bar on Weed Street."
Asked if his homecoming would have been rosier had the Cubs gone to the World Series, or if the Bears were doing better, Sinise chuckled. "It would have been nice. But the Cubs made it to the playoffs. That's all right. We had a good season. The Bears lost [Sunday]. That's not so great," he said.
"But I was worried it was gonna rain, or it would be too cold. We have a perfect day here for what we need to do."
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Like a lot of people on Monday, three tourists tried walking in front of the Tribune building. But a TV show was being filmed on the sidewalk, and a guy yelled at the out-of-towners to get out of his shot.
They sauntered to the entrance of the building. That's where they got walled in by actor-extras for a while.
"We're trapped -- in the set!" tourist Tracy said in good spirits. "They're being a little bossy with their movie thing, you know."
None of the tourists -- well-dressed thirtysomethings from Raleigh, N.C. -- would reveal their last names. Tourist Bob pointed to a red-headed guy wearing sunglasses and said, "Is that Horatio from 'CSI: Miami?' ... Why are they filming here?"
It wasn't "CSI: Miami." It was "CSI: NY." Gary Sinise and crew came to Chicago to film a day's worth of exterior shots for an episode running at the end of November.
Looking for evidence
The hit detective drama came downtown not only because Sinise grew up around here and is a product of Steppenwolf Theatre Company, but because producers want to explore the local background of his character, Mac.
A few months ago, a writer for the show informed his colleagues that there was this building in town with old rocks sticking out of it. The rocks were perfect because "we're constantly mining trace evidence" for forensic mysteries, said co-writer Zachary Reiter.
In some scenes filmed Monday, Mac was looking for trace-y clues in the rocks while kind of going rogue from his New York cop shop.
Temps were in the sunny 50s. Hollywooders in the crew of 150 (about half the size of the regular ensemble) shivered and suffered.
Eddie Cahill, who plays Detective Don Flack, said it was different but fun to shoot around the city's elements. "When you come to cities like Chicago and especially New York, you're almost squeezing them" into a scene, he said. "Hollywood was designed for this; it's like skiing in Vail."
In case acting dries up
Sinise, 52, was just in town Saturday to play bass in the Lt. Dan Band, named after his "Forrest Gump" role. "Most of the band's from here," said Sinise, a lifelong Cubs fan. "We'll be back in May at Joe's Bar on Weed Street."
Asked if his homecoming would have been rosier had the Cubs gone to the World Series, or if the Bears were doing better, Sinise chuckled. "It would have been nice. But the Cubs made it to the playoffs. That's all right. We had a good season. The Bears lost [Sunday]. That's not so great," he said.
"But I was worried it was gonna rain, or it would be too cold. We have a perfect day here for what we need to do."
A new locale here, a little added glitz there, and you have a lighter, funnier -- kinkier? -- 'Nip/Tuck'
October 28, 2007
By Doug Elfman
TV Critic
This summer, I went to a TV star party at an amusement park and won a giant stuffed doll of Peter, from "Family Guy," for Kelly Carlson, the actress who plays Kimber the porn star on "Nip/Tuck." I'm not bragging. There's relevance to this story, in addition to full disclosure, for my "Nip/Tuck" review.
Carlson couldn't knock three milk jugs off of a platform by throwing a beanbag at them. I was standing there. She asked if I'd try. I won.
She gave me a polite hug, I told her I like her performances on the show, and I walked to the short bus we TV critics rode into the night. I thought it was funny, but I didn't take any of this personally.
What I'm getting at is, not every guy who steps off the plane at LAX immediately becomes entranced with celebrity to the point that they fantasize about ingratiating themselves into stars' lives. Maybe we rub elbows because of sheer geography, yet we don't all feel the need to try to become buddy-buddy beyond chance settings.
On the other hand, in the season premiere of FX's "Nip/Tuck," Drs. Christian Troy and Sean McNamara move from Miami to Hollywood, and they immediately succumb to the corrupting star-sucking-up of L.A.
They're new to the shimmer-glimmer, and they hope they, too, will become stars, first by proxy and then by design.
Over four years, these doctors have faced a serial killer, blackmail and seriously crazy sex and doctoring. Seeking fame will clearly become their next undoing.
As the fifth season opens, they pad around their new, beautifully decorated but empty offices. No one's coming in for plastic surgery. After all, how many people in L.A. don't already have their own personal face-lifters?
"I feel like I'm trying to sell semen in a whorehouse," Christian says.
Then they hit the jackpot. A publicist (Lauren Hutton) gets them working as consultants on a TV melodrama called "Hearts and Scalpels," a doctor show that's a send-up mostly of "Grey's Anatomy." The star of "Hearts" (Bradley Cooper) screams at nurses, "We are saving a life today, people!"
Once Sean (Dylan Walsh) and Christian (Julian McMahon) get into showbiz, their nipbiz picks up.
The producer behind "Nip/Tuck," Ryan Murphy, says this year will be lighter and funnier, as well as occasionally dark. I'm a longtime fan, so I'm interested to see how that develops.
My friends who are fellow fans worry the show might go south now that it's based in fluffier La-La Land, because a lot of the appeal has relied in seeing Christian, Sean and their extended family deal with the oddities of people in South Florida who are regularly strange (as opposed to Hollywood strange) and always getting caught up in the doctors' freaky lives.
To wit, the show has presented characters doing the following things: circumcising oneself; killing a murderous rapist; participating in a mother-daughter menage a trios; having tranny relationships; altering the voice of a phone-sex operator (guest star Kathleen Turner); replacing testicles (Larry Hagman), and transplanting an ear (Rosie O'Donnell).
But in L.A., Sean and Christian are older and a tad saggier. They begin there as unknown nobodies in America's town of everybodys.
Christian pines for his Miami status next week: "Men, women -- they all wanted to be me, or be with me."
"You should have picked a different venue to have a midlife crisis in," his publicist responds. "You're never going to be the new face in town; just some fortysomething dying to have a comeback."
This storyline is, in the first two hours, not as sexy as the Miami plots were, even though Cooper, Hutton and Tia Carrera (as a dominatrix) are on board. Other guest stars in the premiere include Oliver Platt, Daphne Zuniga and Jennifer Coolidge.
There's little of "Nip/Tuck's" usual sexcapades in the first two weeks. But it's still solidly entertaining (if less so) thanks to Walsh and McMahon's dependable character arcs.
The doctors, plus other major characters who also will move to Los Angeles, consistently behave the way you'd expect while doing bizarre things. Matt alone has killed a guy, done drugs, joined Scientology and hooked up with she-males. But you always believed Matt was capable of all these things.
John Hensley, who plays Matt, said during a promotion for the show, "I've honestly been waiting for Matt to commit suicide for three years now." (Me too.)
But unlike the ones on many TV shows, the writers and actors never force the men and women of "Nip/Tuck" to do or say something out of character.
So, it's totally believable within the "Nip/Tuck" universe when, next week, Christian sympathizes with a Marilyn Monroe impersonator who feels inadequate enough to get a boob job -- before he crassly bids to bed her.
During a press conference, McMahon said he wants the show to ratchet up the kink. I asked him, like what?
In "Silence of the Lambs," he said, "remember when he cut the guy's face off and hung him up?" McMahon said. "I said, 'Do you think we could have sex like that? Could [Christian] be hung up like that?' "
Don't expect Murphy to allow that amazingly twisted scene to happen. But of all the dramas on TV, it would be least surprising to see such a spectacle on "Nip/Tuck." It remains the nuttiest show on TV.
By Doug Elfman
TV Critic
This summer, I went to a TV star party at an amusement park and won a giant stuffed doll of Peter, from "Family Guy," for Kelly Carlson, the actress who plays Kimber the porn star on "Nip/Tuck." I'm not bragging. There's relevance to this story, in addition to full disclosure, for my "Nip/Tuck" review.
Carlson couldn't knock three milk jugs off of a platform by throwing a beanbag at them. I was standing there. She asked if I'd try. I won.
She gave me a polite hug, I told her I like her performances on the show, and I walked to the short bus we TV critics rode into the night. I thought it was funny, but I didn't take any of this personally.
What I'm getting at is, not every guy who steps off the plane at LAX immediately becomes entranced with celebrity to the point that they fantasize about ingratiating themselves into stars' lives. Maybe we rub elbows because of sheer geography, yet we don't all feel the need to try to become buddy-buddy beyond chance settings.
On the other hand, in the season premiere of FX's "Nip/Tuck," Drs. Christian Troy and Sean McNamara move from Miami to Hollywood, and they immediately succumb to the corrupting star-sucking-up of L.A.
They're new to the shimmer-glimmer, and they hope they, too, will become stars, first by proxy and then by design.
Over four years, these doctors have faced a serial killer, blackmail and seriously crazy sex and doctoring. Seeking fame will clearly become their next undoing.
As the fifth season opens, they pad around their new, beautifully decorated but empty offices. No one's coming in for plastic surgery. After all, how many people in L.A. don't already have their own personal face-lifters?
"I feel like I'm trying to sell semen in a whorehouse," Christian says.
Then they hit the jackpot. A publicist (Lauren Hutton) gets them working as consultants on a TV melodrama called "Hearts and Scalpels," a doctor show that's a send-up mostly of "Grey's Anatomy." The star of "Hearts" (Bradley Cooper) screams at nurses, "We are saving a life today, people!"
Once Sean (Dylan Walsh) and Christian (Julian McMahon) get into showbiz, their nipbiz picks up.
The producer behind "Nip/Tuck," Ryan Murphy, says this year will be lighter and funnier, as well as occasionally dark. I'm a longtime fan, so I'm interested to see how that develops.
My friends who are fellow fans worry the show might go south now that it's based in fluffier La-La Land, because a lot of the appeal has relied in seeing Christian, Sean and their extended family deal with the oddities of people in South Florida who are regularly strange (as opposed to Hollywood strange) and always getting caught up in the doctors' freaky lives.
To wit, the show has presented characters doing the following things: circumcising oneself; killing a murderous rapist; participating in a mother-daughter menage a trios; having tranny relationships; altering the voice of a phone-sex operator (guest star Kathleen Turner); replacing testicles (Larry Hagman), and transplanting an ear (Rosie O'Donnell).
But in L.A., Sean and Christian are older and a tad saggier. They begin there as unknown nobodies in America's town of everybodys.
Christian pines for his Miami status next week: "Men, women -- they all wanted to be me, or be with me."
"You should have picked a different venue to have a midlife crisis in," his publicist responds. "You're never going to be the new face in town; just some fortysomething dying to have a comeback."
This storyline is, in the first two hours, not as sexy as the Miami plots were, even though Cooper, Hutton and Tia Carrera (as a dominatrix) are on board. Other guest stars in the premiere include Oliver Platt, Daphne Zuniga and Jennifer Coolidge.
There's little of "Nip/Tuck's" usual sexcapades in the first two weeks. But it's still solidly entertaining (if less so) thanks to Walsh and McMahon's dependable character arcs.
The doctors, plus other major characters who also will move to Los Angeles, consistently behave the way you'd expect while doing bizarre things. Matt alone has killed a guy, done drugs, joined Scientology and hooked up with she-males. But you always believed Matt was capable of all these things.
John Hensley, who plays Matt, said during a promotion for the show, "I've honestly been waiting for Matt to commit suicide for three years now." (Me too.)
But unlike the ones on many TV shows, the writers and actors never force the men and women of "Nip/Tuck" to do or say something out of character.
So, it's totally believable within the "Nip/Tuck" universe when, next week, Christian sympathizes with a Marilyn Monroe impersonator who feels inadequate enough to get a boob job -- before he crassly bids to bed her.
During a press conference, McMahon said he wants the show to ratchet up the kink. I asked him, like what?
In "Silence of the Lambs," he said, "remember when he cut the guy's face off and hung him up?" McMahon said. "I said, 'Do you think we could have sex like that? Could [Christian] be hung up like that?' "
Don't expect Murphy to allow that amazingly twisted scene to happen. But of all the dramas on TV, it would be least surprising to see such a spectacle on "Nip/Tuck." It remains the nuttiest show on TV.
Laughs triumph over love story
October 25, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
TV couples who draw out long romances never figure out how to truly wrap it up after they slap it up. Oh, these on-again, off-again affairs. Will they? Won't they? Seesaw. Hee-haw. Pshaw.
Enough already.
Tonight's debut of the seventh and final season of "Scrubs" is as funny as ever. But it's a well-crafted comedy despite the up-in-the-air romance between J.D. (Zach Braff) and Elliot (Sarah Chalke), not because of it.
Chalke delivers a great "too soon" monologue. "Beard face" works. "Pig whore" works. The "dong" T-shirt works. All the actors are hitting their finely written lines.
And creator Bill Lawrence starts the season's long goodbye with a more down-to-earth approach than last year, when "Scrubs" went super goofy to mixed results.
Tonight's boil-down: J.D. and Elliot almost make out, which causes Elliot to question if she should marry her fiance Keith. Hmm, you think?
Meanwhile, as they say, J.D. is pondering why he doesn't want to go home to his pregnant woman. Gee, I wonder.
And Dr. Cox (John C. McGinley) falls in like with a male patient, whose symptoms are a half-mystery.
It's a relief "Scrubs" begins with laughs, since I was beginning to agree with Brian and Stewie's "Family Guy" song at the Emmys, when they harmonized that "Scrubs" "reminds us that a sitcom doesn't have to make us laugh."
But still, I wish Lawrence would issue a statement today, now, telling fans whether J.D. and Elliot will be together forever by the end of the season, as I'll probably still not care by the series finale.
You already know their dance won't stay in limbo, if only because Turk (Donald Faison) gives J.D. a good theory as to why he's stuck in his doomed relationship with Kim:
"You knocked her up on your first date, and before you could get to know her, she betrayed you. And now you don't have strong feelings for her, and the only reasons you're together is because a kid's involved."
That's so ponderous. Remember the good old days when J.D. and Elliot just had crazy weird sex, and it was funny? How about going down that road too much, instead of the clashy love road?
Besides, J.D. and Elliot will always wonde
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
TV couples who draw out long romances never figure out how to truly wrap it up after they slap it up. Oh, these on-again, off-again affairs. Will they? Won't they? Seesaw. Hee-haw. Pshaw.
Enough already.
Tonight's debut of the seventh and final season of "Scrubs" is as funny as ever. But it's a well-crafted comedy despite the up-in-the-air romance between J.D. (Zach Braff) and Elliot (Sarah Chalke), not because of it.
Chalke delivers a great "too soon" monologue. "Beard face" works. "Pig whore" works. The "dong" T-shirt works. All the actors are hitting their finely written lines.
And creator Bill Lawrence starts the season's long goodbye with a more down-to-earth approach than last year, when "Scrubs" went super goofy to mixed results.
Tonight's boil-down: J.D. and Elliot almost make out, which causes Elliot to question if she should marry her fiance Keith. Hmm, you think?
Meanwhile, as they say, J.D. is pondering why he doesn't want to go home to his pregnant woman. Gee, I wonder.
And Dr. Cox (John C. McGinley) falls in like with a male patient, whose symptoms are a half-mystery.
It's a relief "Scrubs" begins with laughs, since I was beginning to agree with Brian and Stewie's "Family Guy" song at the Emmys, when they harmonized that "Scrubs" "reminds us that a sitcom doesn't have to make us laugh."
But still, I wish Lawrence would issue a statement today, now, telling fans whether J.D. and Elliot will be together forever by the end of the season, as I'll probably still not care by the series finale.
You already know their dance won't stay in limbo, if only because Turk (Donald Faison) gives J.D. a good theory as to why he's stuck in his doomed relationship with Kim:
"You knocked her up on your first date, and before you could get to know her, she betrayed you. And now you don't have strong feelings for her, and the only reasons you're together is because a kid's involved."
That's so ponderous. Remember the good old days when J.D. and Elliot just had crazy weird sex, and it was funny? How about going down that road too much, instead of the clashy love road?
Besides, J.D. and Elliot will always wonde