December 28, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
There were a lot of "say whaaat?" moments on TV this year. Britney saved her music career by looking like an idiot. A little girl cried for Sanjaya on "American Idol." And Courteney Cox made the acquaintance of a sex toy.
Here's a look back at those most memorable, notorious and "say whaaat?" moments of 2007.
VIP OF THE YEAR: Sanjaya Malakar. He squeaked by on "American Idol" for weeks and weeks, thanks partly to the locally produced Web site VoteForThe Worst.com, which convinced a nation of "Idol" bashers to vote for the thin-voiced boy. Sanjaya's flyaway hair, his light performances and the judges' obvious hatred of his voice made "Idol" must-watch TV for a while. Eventually he was voted off, and "Idol" reeked for the rest of the season.
AUDIENCE MEMBER OF 2007: The little girl who cried with joy at seeing Sanjaya on "Idol." Oh, the laughs.
BIGGEST LIE ABOUT A TV STAR: Bob Barker left "The Price Is Right" this summer after announcing his retirement in January. I asked Barker about claims in his Wikipedia bio that, as a young man, he had been a jazz-playing pig farmer who ran an illegal brothel. He laughed. "None of those things are true."
CORRECTEST FIRING: Don Imus from MSNBC. He was a boring dolt, always. What took so long?
BIGGER JERKS THAN IMUS: The corporate dipweeds who won't settle with TV writers on strike. On the one hand, execs are suing YouTube for zillions of dollars, claiming their TV shows are worth big money online. On the other hand, the same execs won't give writers money for online viewings, saying there's no profit in downloadable TV. So which is it, you lying, rich fat cats who hate people?
STOP BELIEVING: Tony and his family lived on in the finale of "The Sopranos." But bloodthirsty fans didn't want to believe this, so they assumed the climactic nothing-happened-in-a-diner scene meant Tony was about to get killed. No. He wasn't. But creator David Chase should stop acting coy and give fans what they deserve: specific answers to their questions.
SPLIT SCREEN MOMENT: Rosie O'Donnell vs. Elisabeth Hasselbeck was the fight of the year, angering O'Donnell enough to never return to "The View." The first thing I thought was, "Stupid Dennis Miller owes Elisabeth an apology." Miller had said on Fox News that O'Donnell was too smart to be derailed by Hasselbeck, implying the cute little blond was a lightweight. Wrong as usual, Miller. She got Rosie to leave.
BEST CAREER SAVER: Britney Spears sounding awful and looking worse during some MTV awards show. Somehow, this PR catastrophe slingshot her back onto the music charts. American music buyers: You're a big dummy.
The worst shows of 2007
1. "Nanny 911": screaming kids, etc.
2. "Supernanny": yelling brats, etc.
3. "Kid Nation": CBS hates children, too
4. "Ugly Betty": unwatchable catty soap
5. "Dirty Sexy Money": unwatchable rich soap
6. "John From Cincinnati": unwatchable religious/UFO surfer nightmare
7. "October Road": soapy train wreck
8. "Back to You": unfunniest sitcom
9. "Cavemen": just really horrid
10. "Kenny vs. Spenny": boring gas-passers
REALITY TV RECAP
EMACIATION PROCLAMATION
Rod Stewart's son Sean Stewart co-starred on some reality show. When I interviewed him, he talked about the female form, so I asked him what the ideal weight is for women. "Obviously, not fat, of course," he said. "I like a girl that's skinny, but definitely not emancipated, like it looks like she's skin and bones." A Freudian slip for all time.
BIGGEST BOONDOGGLE
"The Search for the Next [Pussycat] Doll" was a hit for the CW. Contestants even could sing better than "Idol" rivals. But winner Asia Nitollano didn't sign with the Dolls, a nugget of info that was kept from the public for months.
INSANEST BOBBLEHEAD
Paula Abdul is nuts on "American Idol," but her Bravo reality series "Hey Paula" showed how she's surrounded by "yes" assistants who comfort her by declaring that all Paula bashers are just jealous, while she behaves like a prima donna who tongue-lashes peons.
Monday, December 31, 2007
GAME DORK: Game Dork Awards -- Horror game 'BioShock' wins top honors for scary adventure
Dec. 28, 2007
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
The Oscars, Grammys and Emmys always come too late, months after the turn of the year. Meanwhile, the video game world already has ushered in awards season, and most of the right games are winning respect.
The big victor, "BioShock," won Game of the Year from both the Spike Video Game Awards and the G4 "X-Play" awards. "BioShock" wasn't my favorite fun. But it deserves the honors, and I'll tell you why in my 2007 Game Dork Awards.
Game of the Year: Xbox 360's "BioShock" isn't just a scary horror game with girls in pigtails sucking spirits out of corpses with the tips of medical needles. It's a broadly cinematic outing, populated with crazy-talking demons living in a creepy art deco otherworld, where you sneak around and kill your way to the end. Being ambitious is great. But succeeding at every ambitious turn makes this a masterwork. "BioShock" (rated "M") also is the Adventure Game of the Year.
Couldn't Have Lived Without It: Xbox 360's "Shadowrun" ("M") operates unlike other online shooters. After every 10- to 20-minute battle, you lose all the guns and magical powers you just gained, and you start over from scratch. This sounds pointless. But once it got under my skin, I wanted to play nothing else all summer and fall. It's also the Online Game of the Year.
Interactive: "Rock Band," for Xbox 360, PS 3 and PS 2, can be had for $170 (yikes). You play this "Guitar Hero"-patterned musical ("T") on guitar, microphone and drums. You also can get friends to join you for a full rock band experience right there in your living room. That does sound complicated, doesn't it? It kind of is.
Overlooked: "Raw Danger!" for PS 2 ("T") looks terrible and seems unbelievably simplistic at first. But it's a lot of fun, playing a waiter guiding people to safety during torrential flooding. Also, "SingStar Pop" (E 10+) is a fantastic karaoke series. And "Kororinpa: Marble Mania" ("E") spruces up the marble-madness style with easy to impossible challenges.
Racing: "MotorStorm" ("T") is an artistic achievement for the PS 3, both as a solo racer and as an online competition. Nothing else came close to providing this much car fun this year.
Fighting: "Mortal Kombat: Armageddon" ("M") translates the popular franchise for the Wii by letting you swing the Wii wand to beat people up. Pretty cool.
Action: "God of War II" ("M") for PS 2 lived up to the pressure to look, play and feel as good as the original, and it met expectations just a little more than did the also-excellent, superhyped, best-selling "Halo 3."
Sports: "Major League Baseball 2K7" ("E") combined realistic baseball player movements and attributes with smooth batting and fielding. It's available for every console and hand-held system.
Shooter: "Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare" ("M") pretties up "Call of Duty" graphics for solo play and introduces the second-best online shooting of the year, for Xbox 360 and PS 3 (and DS).
Reissue: "Resident Evil 4" ("M") for the Wii reminded everyone why it's one of the best four games of all time. It's scary and intense, now interactively murderous with the Wii wand.
Kids: "Super Mario Galaxy" ("E") turns you upside-down as you run around planets to kill evil mushrooms and such. Looks familiar, but the game play is sleek.
Maverick: "Manhunt 2" ("M") looks like the future of PSP games. It maximizes characters' bodies so they don't look like little tiny fellas on the hand-held game system. Also, the playing system is a blast.
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
The Oscars, Grammys and Emmys always come too late, months after the turn of the year. Meanwhile, the video game world already has ushered in awards season, and most of the right games are winning respect.
The big victor, "BioShock," won Game of the Year from both the Spike Video Game Awards and the G4 "X-Play" awards. "BioShock" wasn't my favorite fun. But it deserves the honors, and I'll tell you why in my 2007 Game Dork Awards.
Game of the Year: Xbox 360's "BioShock" isn't just a scary horror game with girls in pigtails sucking spirits out of corpses with the tips of medical needles. It's a broadly cinematic outing, populated with crazy-talking demons living in a creepy art deco otherworld, where you sneak around and kill your way to the end. Being ambitious is great. But succeeding at every ambitious turn makes this a masterwork. "BioShock" (rated "M") also is the Adventure Game of the Year.
Couldn't Have Lived Without It: Xbox 360's "Shadowrun" ("M") operates unlike other online shooters. After every 10- to 20-minute battle, you lose all the guns and magical powers you just gained, and you start over from scratch. This sounds pointless. But once it got under my skin, I wanted to play nothing else all summer and fall. It's also the Online Game of the Year.
Interactive: "Rock Band," for Xbox 360, PS 3 and PS 2, can be had for $170 (yikes). You play this "Guitar Hero"-patterned musical ("T") on guitar, microphone and drums. You also can get friends to join you for a full rock band experience right there in your living room. That does sound complicated, doesn't it? It kind of is.
Overlooked: "Raw Danger!" for PS 2 ("T") looks terrible and seems unbelievably simplistic at first. But it's a lot of fun, playing a waiter guiding people to safety during torrential flooding. Also, "SingStar Pop" (E 10+) is a fantastic karaoke series. And "Kororinpa: Marble Mania" ("E") spruces up the marble-madness style with easy to impossible challenges.
Racing: "MotorStorm" ("T") is an artistic achievement for the PS 3, both as a solo racer and as an online competition. Nothing else came close to providing this much car fun this year.
Fighting: "Mortal Kombat: Armageddon" ("M") translates the popular franchise for the Wii by letting you swing the Wii wand to beat people up. Pretty cool.
Action: "God of War II" ("M") for PS 2 lived up to the pressure to look, play and feel as good as the original, and it met expectations just a little more than did the also-excellent, superhyped, best-selling "Halo 3."
Sports: "Major League Baseball 2K7" ("E") combined realistic baseball player movements and attributes with smooth batting and fielding. It's available for every console and hand-held system.
Shooter: "Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare" ("M") pretties up "Call of Duty" graphics for solo play and introduces the second-best online shooting of the year, for Xbox 360 and PS 3 (and DS).
Reissue: "Resident Evil 4" ("M") for the Wii reminded everyone why it's one of the best four games of all time. It's scary and intense, now interactively murderous with the Wii wand.
Kids: "Super Mario Galaxy" ("E") turns you upside-down as you run around planets to kill evil mushrooms and such. Looks familiar, but the game play is sleek.
Maverick: "Manhunt 2" ("M") looks like the future of PSP games. It maximizes characters' bodies so they don't look like little tiny fellas on the hand-held game system. Also, the playing system is a blast.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
'Drake's Fortune,' 'Ratchet' show there's no accounting for taste
Dec. 21, 2007
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
There are times when you feel like you're not in step with critics. I can't stand the acclaimed "Lost." Eric Clapton makes me sleepy. And I didn't see what the big deal was about "The Departed."
You can chalk moments like this up to, "There's no accounting for taste." My Grandma Nana used to say that whenever I asked her why in the world she was watching "Murder, She Wrote."
And so, a few very ambitious video games are garnering extremely good reviews, but I don't want to play them for one more minute after writing this column. They're not terrible. They're just not for me.
"Uncharted: Drake's Fortune" is a semi-epic adventure that would remind you of "Raiders of the Lost Arc" and especially "Tomb Raider."
You trek along a many-hour tour of jungles, caves, waterfalls and submarine wrecks. You jog past leafy greenery and scuttle across ledges by fingertip.
You play as a treasure hunter who thinks he's a descendent of the childless explorer (and slave trader, I'd like to add) Sir Francis Drake. Once you (as Nathan) find Drake's supersecret map, the journey is on.
My big problem is the pacing. I play games to play them, not to watch them. In "Drake's Fortune," there's a lot of watching of people talking in filmlike scenes. The guy and the girl are hot for each other; chat, chat, chat. Drake's mentor gets shot; yada, yada, yada.
Normally, I'd applaud the effort of a game's striving for good dialogue. The script for "Drake's Fortune" is at least written well. It just goes on forever, when instead I want to climb stuff and practice aiming at people's heads. Also, the shooting is a fairly sloppy and slow-going, aim-and-fire process.
What's worse is I have to walk over every inch of the game to try to find small, hidden treasures in the grass, like a silver fish charm the size of a pendant. Tedious.
So if you're looking for a pretty game, with lots of light quests, maybe you'll like it. If not, I doubt it.
The other ambitious semi-epic is the sequel "Ratchet & Clank Future: Tools of Destruction." It's even more breathtaking in its scenery than "Drake's Fortune." You travel through extravagantly busy places throughout the universe, where cars fly and such.
Our hero, Ratchet the Lombax (a bobcatlike, sci-fi biped) runs around with his robot buddy Clank. As you press them onward, you bash and shoot bad guys (space pirates, bugs, "Troglasaurs," robots), whose "souls" (body parts) break up and enter your body spiritually, to give you more power.
"Tools of Destruction" is probably a good kids' game. It's cute. Parts of it are funny. But you beat up and shoot evil robots all the time. Mash two buttons for six hours straight, and you get the gist.
It's as repetitive as algebra class, with all that problem-solving. I agree with Prince that there's "Joy in Repetition." I just don't think this "Tools of Destruction" business is the repetitive act Prince was talking about.
("Ratchet & Clank Future: Tools of Destruction" retails for $60 for PS 3 -- Plays redundant. Looks fantastic. Easy to challenging settings. Rated "E 10+" for alcohol reference, animated blood, crude humor, fantasy violence and language. Two and one-half stars out of four.)
("Uncharted: Drake's Fortune" retails for $60 for PS 3 -- Plays OK. Looks very good. Easy to challenging. Rated "T" for blood, language mild suggestive themes, use of tobacco and violence. Two and one-half stars.)
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
There are times when you feel like you're not in step with critics. I can't stand the acclaimed "Lost." Eric Clapton makes me sleepy. And I didn't see what the big deal was about "The Departed."
You can chalk moments like this up to, "There's no accounting for taste." My Grandma Nana used to say that whenever I asked her why in the world she was watching "Murder, She Wrote."
And so, a few very ambitious video games are garnering extremely good reviews, but I don't want to play them for one more minute after writing this column. They're not terrible. They're just not for me.
"Uncharted: Drake's Fortune" is a semi-epic adventure that would remind you of "Raiders of the Lost Arc" and especially "Tomb Raider."
You trek along a many-hour tour of jungles, caves, waterfalls and submarine wrecks. You jog past leafy greenery and scuttle across ledges by fingertip.
You play as a treasure hunter who thinks he's a descendent of the childless explorer (and slave trader, I'd like to add) Sir Francis Drake. Once you (as Nathan) find Drake's supersecret map, the journey is on.
My big problem is the pacing. I play games to play them, not to watch them. In "Drake's Fortune," there's a lot of watching of people talking in filmlike scenes. The guy and the girl are hot for each other; chat, chat, chat. Drake's mentor gets shot; yada, yada, yada.
Normally, I'd applaud the effort of a game's striving for good dialogue. The script for "Drake's Fortune" is at least written well. It just goes on forever, when instead I want to climb stuff and practice aiming at people's heads. Also, the shooting is a fairly sloppy and slow-going, aim-and-fire process.
What's worse is I have to walk over every inch of the game to try to find small, hidden treasures in the grass, like a silver fish charm the size of a pendant. Tedious.
So if you're looking for a pretty game, with lots of light quests, maybe you'll like it. If not, I doubt it.
The other ambitious semi-epic is the sequel "Ratchet & Clank Future: Tools of Destruction." It's even more breathtaking in its scenery than "Drake's Fortune." You travel through extravagantly busy places throughout the universe, where cars fly and such.
Our hero, Ratchet the Lombax (a bobcatlike, sci-fi biped) runs around with his robot buddy Clank. As you press them onward, you bash and shoot bad guys (space pirates, bugs, "Troglasaurs," robots), whose "souls" (body parts) break up and enter your body spiritually, to give you more power.
"Tools of Destruction" is probably a good kids' game. It's cute. Parts of it are funny. But you beat up and shoot evil robots all the time. Mash two buttons for six hours straight, and you get the gist.
It's as repetitive as algebra class, with all that problem-solving. I agree with Prince that there's "Joy in Repetition." I just don't think this "Tools of Destruction" business is the repetitive act Prince was talking about.
("Ratchet & Clank Future: Tools of Destruction" retails for $60 for PS 3 -- Plays redundant. Looks fantastic. Easy to challenging settings. Rated "E 10+" for alcohol reference, animated blood, crude humor, fantasy violence and language. Two and one-half stars out of four.)
("Uncharted: Drake's Fortune" retails for $60 for PS 3 -- Plays OK. Looks very good. Easy to challenging. Rated "T" for blood, language mild suggestive themes, use of tobacco and violence. Two and one-half stars.)
Not such a bad year, after all
December 23, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
I kept thinking 2007 was a weak year for TV, since it brought unwatchable garbage like "Kid Nation" and "Dirty Sexy Money." But I thought about it more, and 2007 ain't so awful.
In fact, my top 10 list doesn't even include some of my favorites, which would have shown up in my top 20 list, like "Real Time with Bill Maher" and "Aliens in America."
Anyhow, here are the best of the best.
1. 'Family Guy'
Every year, the Oscars, Emmys and critics overlook comedies -- especially cartoons -- for being merely funny or juvenile. Here I am to buck tradition by proclaiming "Family Guy" is better than any boo-hoo drama. Better than the overhyped "Sopranos." Better than everything.
It is brilliantly funny, the only thing that makes me laugh out loud one to 10 times per episode. And it does make me think. Like, in the "Star Wars" episode, the empire's space cruiser had a bumper sticker on the back that read, "Bush/Cheney." That made me think, "Democracy really is practiced far and wide."
2. 'House'
Each season, "House" has been a very entertaining medical procedural. But this year, it became fantastic, by getting rid of Dr. House's three longtime doctors. Oh, they're still around in the hospital. But they've been sidelined, and that's good.
No offense to the fine actors who play those doctors, but their characters were beginning to feel like wet rags. Now, House's personality is really flourishing, mostly unchecked. His weeks-long test to find replacements was a labyrinth of fun. And the writing is tighter than ever. It's smart, funny, snarky and deliciously cranky.
3. '30 Rock'
In the spring and early fall, I declared this the best show on TV. That was before "Family Guy" and "House" kicked into full gear. Still, "30 Rock" is hilarious, poignant and the best traditional comedy since "Seinfeld."
4. 'Rescue Me'
Some friends and readers tell me they're not happy about the progression of "Rescue Me," because one event or another turned them off. That's to be expected, since "Rescue Me" is a cynical comedy-drama. If you watch that cynicism when you're in an earnest mood, its anger at the world can rub you the wrong way.
But for me, "Rescue Me" is still one of the best 20 shows ever. The writing and directing are efficient. The laughs and odd situations advance the stories. And the actors slay me with high quality. I watch them and think, "Can a show really be this good?"
5. 'Californication'
The first season of David Duchovny's comedy-drama on Showtime began strong and finished fairly strong, as he played Hank, a confident snarkellectual flawed by his fantasies of love and lust. Hank is a real man, with adult thoughts, and childish TV needs him.
6. 'Reaper'
The writers, directors and actors are bringing back the fun and funny spirit of the lighter side of "The X-Files." Guys track escaped souls from hell. Their comedy is heavenly.
7. 'Mad Men'
What a wondrous flashback to 1960. The Madison Avenue ad men of the era are, on the face of life, sexist WASPy homophobes who hold America by the horns. But this new drama got under their skin to show how they -- and their wives and secretaries -- are mired in booze, cigarettes, lies and corrupted "family values."
8. 'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia'
One of the funniest shows on TV, "Sunny" follows four nasty and quite dumb egoists who run a bar and hurt each other intentionally and unintentionally. Unfortunately, I know very few people who also catch it, because it's on FX, the best network you're not watching.
9. 'The Sarah Silverman Program'
The only way to understand it is to get a taste. In one episode, dumb Sarah accidentally joins an anti-abortion group because she thinks it's a lemon square party. They convince her to picket against "baby killers" at a clinic. Then she waves at a doctor. "Do you know him?" the anti-abortionists ask. Sure, Sarah says, "He's my abortionist!"
10. 'Dexter'
Bloody "Dexter" continues to dig deep into the twisted psyche of a sociopath who kills other killers, a vigilante by choice, since his dad trained him not to focus his compulsion on truer victims. It's such a good-looking show, with excellent acting and moody scripts.
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
I kept thinking 2007 was a weak year for TV, since it brought unwatchable garbage like "Kid Nation" and "Dirty Sexy Money." But I thought about it more, and 2007 ain't so awful.
In fact, my top 10 list doesn't even include some of my favorites, which would have shown up in my top 20 list, like "Real Time with Bill Maher" and "Aliens in America."
Anyhow, here are the best of the best.
1. 'Family Guy'
Every year, the Oscars, Emmys and critics overlook comedies -- especially cartoons -- for being merely funny or juvenile. Here I am to buck tradition by proclaiming "Family Guy" is better than any boo-hoo drama. Better than the overhyped "Sopranos." Better than everything.
It is brilliantly funny, the only thing that makes me laugh out loud one to 10 times per episode. And it does make me think. Like, in the "Star Wars" episode, the empire's space cruiser had a bumper sticker on the back that read, "Bush/Cheney." That made me think, "Democracy really is practiced far and wide."
2. 'House'
Each season, "House" has been a very entertaining medical procedural. But this year, it became fantastic, by getting rid of Dr. House's three longtime doctors. Oh, they're still around in the hospital. But they've been sidelined, and that's good.
No offense to the fine actors who play those doctors, but their characters were beginning to feel like wet rags. Now, House's personality is really flourishing, mostly unchecked. His weeks-long test to find replacements was a labyrinth of fun. And the writing is tighter than ever. It's smart, funny, snarky and deliciously cranky.
3. '30 Rock'
In the spring and early fall, I declared this the best show on TV. That was before "Family Guy" and "House" kicked into full gear. Still, "30 Rock" is hilarious, poignant and the best traditional comedy since "Seinfeld."
4. 'Rescue Me'
Some friends and readers tell me they're not happy about the progression of "Rescue Me," because one event or another turned them off. That's to be expected, since "Rescue Me" is a cynical comedy-drama. If you watch that cynicism when you're in an earnest mood, its anger at the world can rub you the wrong way.
But for me, "Rescue Me" is still one of the best 20 shows ever. The writing and directing are efficient. The laughs and odd situations advance the stories. And the actors slay me with high quality. I watch them and think, "Can a show really be this good?"
5. 'Californication'
The first season of David Duchovny's comedy-drama on Showtime began strong and finished fairly strong, as he played Hank, a confident snarkellectual flawed by his fantasies of love and lust. Hank is a real man, with adult thoughts, and childish TV needs him.
6. 'Reaper'
The writers, directors and actors are bringing back the fun and funny spirit of the lighter side of "The X-Files." Guys track escaped souls from hell. Their comedy is heavenly.
7. 'Mad Men'
What a wondrous flashback to 1960. The Madison Avenue ad men of the era are, on the face of life, sexist WASPy homophobes who hold America by the horns. But this new drama got under their skin to show how they -- and their wives and secretaries -- are mired in booze, cigarettes, lies and corrupted "family values."
8. 'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia'
One of the funniest shows on TV, "Sunny" follows four nasty and quite dumb egoists who run a bar and hurt each other intentionally and unintentionally. Unfortunately, I know very few people who also catch it, because it's on FX, the best network you're not watching.
9. 'The Sarah Silverman Program'
The only way to understand it is to get a taste. In one episode, dumb Sarah accidentally joins an anti-abortion group because she thinks it's a lemon square party. They convince her to picket against "baby killers" at a clinic. Then she waves at a doctor. "Do you know him?" the anti-abortionists ask. Sure, Sarah says, "He's my abortionist!"
10. 'Dexter'
Bloody "Dexter" continues to dig deep into the twisted psyche of a sociopath who kills other killers, a vigilante by choice, since his dad trained him not to focus his compulsion on truer victims. It's such a good-looking show, with excellent acting and moody scripts.
delfman@suntimes.com
Elmo's yule special will tickle you pink
December 20, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
I hate Elmo's high-pitched voice with the heat of a thousand suns. I think it's because my niece or nephew played one of those annoying Elmo-tickling dolls until my brain imploded. I'm telling you this so you know I'm a hard sell with Elmo.
But I enjoyed "Elmo's Christmas Countdown" as much as a non-parent could. Like the best Muppet movies, Sunday's hourlong "Countdown" does a very good job of crafting entertainment for both parents and children.
The story is a basic sort of Christmas crisis. An elf named Stiller (a Muppet with Ben Stiller's voice) picks Oscar the Grouch to do the official countdown to Christmas, but Oscar busts the "counter downer," a handheld item with 10 numbered blocks in it.
For the rest of "Countdown," Stiller and Elmo wait for Muppets to find each numbered block. If all 10 blocks aren't found, then Christmas won't come, of course.
Because of the magic of Christmas, or whatever, each numbered block unlocks a special musical performance or appearance by a contemporary celebrity.
So when block No. 10 is found, Jennifer Hudson emerges to sing "Carol of the Bells," surrounded by Muppets.
This is a star-stuffed "event." Alicia Keys sweetly performs "Do You Hear What I Hear?" (It's almost ruined by Elmo singing with her.) Other guests are Jamie Foxx, Anne Hathaway, Kevin James (as Santa), Brad Paisley and Ty Pennington.
I can imagine half the women I've ever known watching just to swoon over Sheryl Crow and say, "I love her, look how good she still looks."
Little kids will probably love lines like, " 'Uh-oh' is a candy cane lodged in your left nostril."
My favorite adult dialogue is when Charlie Gibson, playing a reindeer anchor on TV, compares Stiller to the disastrous ex-FEMA director Michael Brown.
The showstopper scene stars "Sopranos" actors doing a live-action version of "Sesame Street." Tony Sirico plays Bert with a big unibrow stretched across his forehead. Steve Schirripa is Ernie and grunts, "Ay, again with the gingerbread man!"
I would have never watched "Christmas Countdown" if I weren't a critic. And I do have to try to shake Elmo's screaming, "It's a Christmas miracle!" every few minutes. But even Elmo can't ruin the holidays. They're bigger than him.
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
I hate Elmo's high-pitched voice with the heat of a thousand suns. I think it's because my niece or nephew played one of those annoying Elmo-tickling dolls until my brain imploded. I'm telling you this so you know I'm a hard sell with Elmo.
But I enjoyed "Elmo's Christmas Countdown" as much as a non-parent could. Like the best Muppet movies, Sunday's hourlong "Countdown" does a very good job of crafting entertainment for both parents and children.
The story is a basic sort of Christmas crisis. An elf named Stiller (a Muppet with Ben Stiller's voice) picks Oscar the Grouch to do the official countdown to Christmas, but Oscar busts the "counter downer," a handheld item with 10 numbered blocks in it.
For the rest of "Countdown," Stiller and Elmo wait for Muppets to find each numbered block. If all 10 blocks aren't found, then Christmas won't come, of course.
Because of the magic of Christmas, or whatever, each numbered block unlocks a special musical performance or appearance by a contemporary celebrity.
So when block No. 10 is found, Jennifer Hudson emerges to sing "Carol of the Bells," surrounded by Muppets.
This is a star-stuffed "event." Alicia Keys sweetly performs "Do You Hear What I Hear?" (It's almost ruined by Elmo singing with her.) Other guests are Jamie Foxx, Anne Hathaway, Kevin James (as Santa), Brad Paisley and Ty Pennington.
I can imagine half the women I've ever known watching just to swoon over Sheryl Crow and say, "I love her, look how good she still looks."
Little kids will probably love lines like, " 'Uh-oh' is a candy cane lodged in your left nostril."
My favorite adult dialogue is when Charlie Gibson, playing a reindeer anchor on TV, compares Stiller to the disastrous ex-FEMA director Michael Brown.
The showstopper scene stars "Sopranos" actors doing a live-action version of "Sesame Street." Tony Sirico plays Bert with a big unibrow stretched across his forehead. Steve Schirripa is Ernie and grunts, "Ay, again with the gingerbread man!"
I would have never watched "Christmas Countdown" if I weren't a critic. And I do have to try to shake Elmo's screaming, "It's a Christmas miracle!" every few minutes. But even Elmo can't ruin the holidays. They're bigger than him.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
As women flock to Nintendo's Wii, its games become more violent
Dec. 14, 2007
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
My fiancee played cute Wii games at first, such as "Table Tennis" and "Rayman Raving Rabbids." But it was a bloody fighting title that turned her into a game nut for the first time in her life.
There she was, stomping people, punching them in the throat, and trying to rip out their spines.
"What is this game?" Stephanie asked excitedly.
"Mortal Kombat: Armageddon," I said.
"Oh!" she called out with a shock, knowing the great old game only from its controversial "bloody" headlines a decade ago. "This is what 'Mortal Kombat' is?"
And so, the video game industry often presumes new women gamers only will be interested in bunnies, sudoku and sparkle ponies. But the truth is, women enjoy anything good (just like men do), if they're enticed to give it a chance. And the Wii magically draws in women.
"The standard game console makes no sense to us," Stephanie says. "All those buttons and controls. And we give up easily. The Wii is far less intimidating, and we can easily master the controls."
The controls also vibrate, and this is cool, she says.
Lately, there's a whole slate of violent games for the Wii. Nintendo even has an excellent new gun device called the Wii Zapper for $25. It looks like a small rifle. You snap your Wii controllers into it, and you point the whole thing at the TV, which reads your aim and trigger finger.
You can use the Zapper if you want to dive into a typical "guy's game," such as "Medal of Honor: Heroes 2." It's a fairly entertaining, rather difficult World War II shooter. You crouch. You gun down Nazis. You walk some more. And this goes on for many hours.
If, however, you're like Stephanie and prefer fighting games, "WWE SmackDown! vs. Raw 2008" is the standard bearer of wrestling matches. It's good fun.
You use whichever wrestling style you like -- technical, dirty, submission -- to punch, kick and pile-drive burly men.
You want to stay away from "Resident Evil: The Umbrella Chronicles," because it's just an arcade shooter. The game forces you down various paths, things pop up in front of you, and all you do is aim guns and blast them in the head. It's OK, though very utilitarian, like a shooting gallery.
And it's just not on par with the Wii's "Resident Evil 4," one of the best games of all time.
"Resident Evil 4" is very hard. Crazy farmers act like zombies as they come at you with pitchforks and other weapons. You snake your way through a very long story, killing the farmers and some anti-American religious cultists.
But the Wii game that seems destined to appeal to women is "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider Anniversary." It's a masterpiece.
You explore tombs and cities by running through them, climbing ropes and walls, swinging across open spaces from a grappling hook, swimming underwater and, of course, shooting anything that gets in your way, which includes bears. Poor little bears.
New women gamers also will see why guys have been into Lara Croft so much visually. When she shimmies poles and does heaving-bosom splits while climbing ledges, it looks like the cleanest dirty game ever. So it seems like it's made for a man, but it's strong enough for a woman.
("Lara Croft: Tomb Raider Anniversary" retails for $40 for Wii -- Plays very fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for violence, mild suggestive themes. Four stars out of four.)
("Medal of Honor: Heroes 2" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays fun, if routine. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for violence. Three and one-half stars.)
("Resident Evil 4" retails for $30 for Wii -- Plays very fun. Looks great. Very challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, intense violence, language. Four stars.)
("Resident Evil: The Umbrella Chronicles" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays rote. Looks very good. Challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, violence. Two and a half stars.)
("WWE SmackDown! vs. Raw 2008" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays fun. Looks good. Challenging. Rated "T" for blood, mild language, suggestive themes, violence. Three stars.)
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
My fiancee played cute Wii games at first, such as "Table Tennis" and "Rayman Raving Rabbids." But it was a bloody fighting title that turned her into a game nut for the first time in her life.
There she was, stomping people, punching them in the throat, and trying to rip out their spines.
"What is this game?" Stephanie asked excitedly.
"Mortal Kombat: Armageddon," I said.
"Oh!" she called out with a shock, knowing the great old game only from its controversial "bloody" headlines a decade ago. "This is what 'Mortal Kombat' is?"
And so, the video game industry often presumes new women gamers only will be interested in bunnies, sudoku and sparkle ponies. But the truth is, women enjoy anything good (just like men do), if they're enticed to give it a chance. And the Wii magically draws in women.
"The standard game console makes no sense to us," Stephanie says. "All those buttons and controls. And we give up easily. The Wii is far less intimidating, and we can easily master the controls."
The controls also vibrate, and this is cool, she says.
Lately, there's a whole slate of violent games for the Wii. Nintendo even has an excellent new gun device called the Wii Zapper for $25. It looks like a small rifle. You snap your Wii controllers into it, and you point the whole thing at the TV, which reads your aim and trigger finger.
You can use the Zapper if you want to dive into a typical "guy's game," such as "Medal of Honor: Heroes 2." It's a fairly entertaining, rather difficult World War II shooter. You crouch. You gun down Nazis. You walk some more. And this goes on for many hours.
If, however, you're like Stephanie and prefer fighting games, "WWE SmackDown! vs. Raw 2008" is the standard bearer of wrestling matches. It's good fun.
You use whichever wrestling style you like -- technical, dirty, submission -- to punch, kick and pile-drive burly men.
You want to stay away from "Resident Evil: The Umbrella Chronicles," because it's just an arcade shooter. The game forces you down various paths, things pop up in front of you, and all you do is aim guns and blast them in the head. It's OK, though very utilitarian, like a shooting gallery.
And it's just not on par with the Wii's "Resident Evil 4," one of the best games of all time.
"Resident Evil 4" is very hard. Crazy farmers act like zombies as they come at you with pitchforks and other weapons. You snake your way through a very long story, killing the farmers and some anti-American religious cultists.
But the Wii game that seems destined to appeal to women is "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider Anniversary." It's a masterpiece.
You explore tombs and cities by running through them, climbing ropes and walls, swinging across open spaces from a grappling hook, swimming underwater and, of course, shooting anything that gets in your way, which includes bears. Poor little bears.
New women gamers also will see why guys have been into Lara Croft so much visually. When she shimmies poles and does heaving-bosom splits while climbing ledges, it looks like the cleanest dirty game ever. So it seems like it's made for a man, but it's strong enough for a woman.
("Lara Croft: Tomb Raider Anniversary" retails for $40 for Wii -- Plays very fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for violence, mild suggestive themes. Four stars out of four.)
("Medal of Honor: Heroes 2" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays fun, if routine. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "T" for violence. Three and one-half stars.)
("Resident Evil 4" retails for $30 for Wii -- Plays very fun. Looks great. Very challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, intense violence, language. Four stars.)
("Resident Evil: The Umbrella Chronicles" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays rote. Looks very good. Challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, violence. Two and a half stars.)
("WWE SmackDown! vs. Raw 2008" retails for $50 for Wii -- Plays fun. Looks good. Challenging. Rated "T" for blood, mild language, suggestive themes, violence. Three stars.)
Write & wronged: Money's not the only reason TV writers have put down their pencils
December 16, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Some TV studios that Thania St. John has worked for with other Hollywood writers have stationed her in rat- and roach-infested warehouses, in "tiny rooms where you could put your fist through the wall, or hear conversations in other rooms."
"That's the space they thought was fine," she says.
Such is the life of a Hollywood writer. Roach and rat stories are rare. But what's common is the overtone, the incredibly shrinking respect writers feel in L.A.
So, sure, they went on strike, fighting to finally get money from downloaded shows -- and real money from DVD sales, among other things.
But Chicago-born and -educated writers in the TV business say even with a victory for the union, megacorporations that own studios probably would continue to treat writers like second-class citizens.
"Every year, they say you can [write scripts] with one less person on your staff," says St. John, now a co-executive producer of Sci-Fi Channel's hit "Eureka." "We're not even allowed to order coffee anymore."
TV executives say, Do you need all those pens? Does everyone really need a computer?
"Uh, yes," she says. "These aren't luxuries. These are things we need to do our shows."
Beginning seven years ago, St. John says, her contract stipulated that the studio or its parent corporation was the legal "author of everything I write." If she didn't sign, she wouldn't get work.
"We all had to sign everything away," St. John says.
The mechanics of this "corporate toolism" is inefficient. St. John has been told before she could do with five writers instead of seven. She pointed out that at some point, this could lead to a production shutdown, because a script may not be ready to film.
The cost of a shutdown would cost more than hiring writers. But execs said a shutdown's expense came from a different budget, so cost overrun was acceptable. "We became a product," she says, "instead of an art form."
'They look at us as guns for hire'
The strike hurts young writers most. Lauren Gussis, who grew up in Deerfield and graduated from Northwestern, saved up money to survive it.
Gussis, 29, writes for Showtime's "Dexter." Because most Americans don't get the pay channel, quite a few viewers watch it on DVD or on iTunes, where the drama has been a hit. Has Gussis cashed any iTunes residuals?
"I haven't seen any of it," she says. "If I were living on residuals, period, that would totally take me out."
Most writers are not rich. Aside from veteran writers and a few megastars, like "Lost's" J.J. Abrams, the median income is $60,000, St. John says. In expensive L.A., that's on par with the salary for a rookie cop or a 10-year teacher.
Starting writers, laboring as assistants, have it worse, grossing $600 or $700 a week. They're going without money now, as they also walk the picket lines to fight the future.
"It usually takes people five years to break in," Gussis says. "Sometimes they don't get health benefits. They accumulate debt."
Gussis considers herself fortunate to write for one of the best shows on TV, and for one of the best channels. Still, "Dexter's" budget was cut by 11 percent for its second season, even though it was a smash among critics and got good viewing numbers.
"They look at us as guns for hire. For sure," Gussis says. "And they look at us as if we're lucky to be working in the business."
'I've never seen DVD money'
Veterans don't get what they deserve, either, says Deerfield High grad Eileen Heisler, executive producer of "How I Met Your Mother" and the upcoming "Lipstick Jungle."
"I've never seen DVD money. I produced 'Ellen' and I never saw a dime," Heisler says. "I was a writer on 'Roseanne' and I have not seen DVD money."
St. John says the unity among writers to change all this is worrying corporate execs.
"The scariest thing to them is [for writers] to share information about salaries, how shows are run," she says. This makes it harder for execs to divide and conquer, to "single us out and just make us feel our show's a mess or we'll get fired."
Says Heisler, "Everyone's feeling the opposite of what they want us to feel: demoralized. We're feeling energized."
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Some TV studios that Thania St. John has worked for with other Hollywood writers have stationed her in rat- and roach-infested warehouses, in "tiny rooms where you could put your fist through the wall, or hear conversations in other rooms."
"That's the space they thought was fine," she says.
Such is the life of a Hollywood writer. Roach and rat stories are rare. But what's common is the overtone, the incredibly shrinking respect writers feel in L.A.
So, sure, they went on strike, fighting to finally get money from downloaded shows -- and real money from DVD sales, among other things.
But Chicago-born and -educated writers in the TV business say even with a victory for the union, megacorporations that own studios probably would continue to treat writers like second-class citizens.
"Every year, they say you can [write scripts] with one less person on your staff," says St. John, now a co-executive producer of Sci-Fi Channel's hit "Eureka." "We're not even allowed to order coffee anymore."
TV executives say, Do you need all those pens? Does everyone really need a computer?
"Uh, yes," she says. "These aren't luxuries. These are things we need to do our shows."
Beginning seven years ago, St. John says, her contract stipulated that the studio or its parent corporation was the legal "author of everything I write." If she didn't sign, she wouldn't get work.
"We all had to sign everything away," St. John says.
The mechanics of this "corporate toolism" is inefficient. St. John has been told before she could do with five writers instead of seven. She pointed out that at some point, this could lead to a production shutdown, because a script may not be ready to film.
The cost of a shutdown would cost more than hiring writers. But execs said a shutdown's expense came from a different budget, so cost overrun was acceptable. "We became a product," she says, "instead of an art form."
'They look at us as guns for hire'
The strike hurts young writers most. Lauren Gussis, who grew up in Deerfield and graduated from Northwestern, saved up money to survive it.
Gussis, 29, writes for Showtime's "Dexter." Because most Americans don't get the pay channel, quite a few viewers watch it on DVD or on iTunes, where the drama has been a hit. Has Gussis cashed any iTunes residuals?
"I haven't seen any of it," she says. "If I were living on residuals, period, that would totally take me out."
Most writers are not rich. Aside from veteran writers and a few megastars, like "Lost's" J.J. Abrams, the median income is $60,000, St. John says. In expensive L.A., that's on par with the salary for a rookie cop or a 10-year teacher.
Starting writers, laboring as assistants, have it worse, grossing $600 or $700 a week. They're going without money now, as they also walk the picket lines to fight the future.
"It usually takes people five years to break in," Gussis says. "Sometimes they don't get health benefits. They accumulate debt."
Gussis considers herself fortunate to write for one of the best shows on TV, and for one of the best channels. Still, "Dexter's" budget was cut by 11 percent for its second season, even though it was a smash among critics and got good viewing numbers.
"They look at us as guns for hire. For sure," Gussis says. "And they look at us as if we're lucky to be working in the business."
'I've never seen DVD money'
Veterans don't get what they deserve, either, says Deerfield High grad Eileen Heisler, executive producer of "How I Met Your Mother" and the upcoming "Lipstick Jungle."
"I've never seen DVD money. I produced 'Ellen' and I never saw a dime," Heisler says. "I was a writer on 'Roseanne' and I have not seen DVD money."
St. John says the unity among writers to change all this is worrying corporate execs.
"The scariest thing to them is [for writers] to share information about salaries, how shows are run," she says. This makes it harder for execs to divide and conquer, to "single us out and just make us feel our show's a mess or we'll get fired."
Says Heisler, "Everyone's feeling the opposite of what they want us to feel: demoralized. We're feeling energized."
delfman@suntimes.com
Good line! Picketing has its bright side
December 16, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Television writers usually sit on their butts all day under fluorescent lights -- at a cubicle, or in a tiny office if they're lucky. So picketing during a strike is a huge break in routine.
"We have to be outside, which is like our Kryptonite," says Seth Meyers, one of the head writers of "Saturday Night Live."
"People have said, 'This is gonna be a disaster: We're gonna have writers with well-toned legs. Color on their faces,' " says Eileen Heisler of "How I Met Your Mother."
Comedy writers are especially used to the gallows humor that comes with the strike's career interruptus. "Even when things are going really well, we think things are going badly," Meyers says. "So a strike appeals to our natural state."
Meyers -- a Northwestern grad who rose up through ImprovOlympic -- says writers are in a good mood, though, because they finally get to hang out en masse at picket lines.
"It's just kind of nice, because it can be very solitary, writing," says Meyers, who's picketing in New York. "You sort of feel like you're part of something bigger" on the picket line.
This is Thania St. John's first big taste as a striker, although the writer of Sci-Fi's "Eureka" grew up seeing picketers here. "It was normal," St, Johns says. "Somebody was always on strike in Chicago and you knew the little guy had to fight the big guy to make their lives better."
Striking in Hollywood is sweatier.
"It's 80 degrees," she says. "We're all in our strike T-shirts."
And even if writers aren't working, they can make up stuff at home. They can't do it for an employer, but no matter. During downtime, a writer will always pick up a pen.
"I've been signing checks and e-mails," Meyers jokes. "I haven't cut it off cold."
Doug Elfman
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Television writers usually sit on their butts all day under fluorescent lights -- at a cubicle, or in a tiny office if they're lucky. So picketing during a strike is a huge break in routine.
"We have to be outside, which is like our Kryptonite," says Seth Meyers, one of the head writers of "Saturday Night Live."
"People have said, 'This is gonna be a disaster: We're gonna have writers with well-toned legs. Color on their faces,' " says Eileen Heisler of "How I Met Your Mother."
Comedy writers are especially used to the gallows humor that comes with the strike's career interruptus. "Even when things are going really well, we think things are going badly," Meyers says. "So a strike appeals to our natural state."
Meyers -- a Northwestern grad who rose up through ImprovOlympic -- says writers are in a good mood, though, because they finally get to hang out en masse at picket lines.
"It's just kind of nice, because it can be very solitary, writing," says Meyers, who's picketing in New York. "You sort of feel like you're part of something bigger" on the picket line.
This is Thania St. John's first big taste as a striker, although the writer of Sci-Fi's "Eureka" grew up seeing picketers here. "It was normal," St, Johns says. "Somebody was always on strike in Chicago and you knew the little guy had to fight the big guy to make their lives better."
Striking in Hollywood is sweatier.
"It's 80 degrees," she says. "We're all in our strike T-shirts."
And even if writers aren't working, they can make up stuff at home. They can't do it for an employer, but no matter. During downtime, a writer will always pick up a pen.
"I've been signing checks and e-mails," Meyers jokes. "I haven't cut it off cold."
Doug Elfman
PREVIEW | A gleeful battle of the choirs
December 15, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Patti LaBelle used a fairly disturbing racial analogy to inspire choir members to sing better on NBC's weeklong competition show, "Clash of the Choirs."
"I said, 'Scream like a woman with a black man chasing you, trying to get your purse,' " LaBelle revealed in a telephone press conference.
But in LaBelle's choir of 20, she said, "I have more white than black. So I'm not prejudiced. I don't have no racial thing going through this."
Alrighty then.
"Clash of the Choirs" runs live four nights in a row, starting Monday. Five choirs compete to win charity money for hometown causes. Viewers phone in votes.
Each choir is run by a music star who assembled it. So LaBelle found people for her choir in her hometown of Philadelphia: Nick Lachey in Cincinnati; Michael Bolton in New Haven, Conn.; Kelly Rowland in Houston, and Blake Shelton in Oklahoma City.
The phone conference with LaBelle and Bolton was weirder than most, since LaBelle was on her mobile phone, shopping, and couldn't hear some questions.
"I'm in a store buying lamps. I'm in a lamp store, and everybody is talking. So I messed up. I didn't hear," she said. A few moments later: "Let me go in the -- can I use your bathroom, miss? I'm going in here. Oh. Somebody's in there. Oh gosh."
What in the world is going on with Patti LaBelle?
Anywho, each choir had to learn seven songs, a mix of pop, rock, country, gospel and a Christmas song.
I asked if, since there'll be a Christmas song, will there also be, say, a Jewish or Buddhist song. I was making a halfhearted serious point, but no one cared.
"I got kicked out of Hebrew School for betting on the dreidel," Bolton said, then added seriously, "Hanukkah would be done" by Monday.
"If you'd like to submit some Buddhist songs," executive producer Jason Raff said, "we'd be happy to ..."
OK, all right, already. Geez. But oh, according to Raff, there might be a Bon Jovi song. Oy-tastic.
At least there's no ageism in "Choirs." Bolton's group ranges from 20 to 77. Maybe that's why LaBelle was predicting victory in TV ads.
"I saw this [commercial] on last night," LaBelle said. "It was a piece where I said, 'I know I'm going to win.' Now, that's not good to say that, because suppose I don't win. I'm going to look like a fool."
Yeah. Probably.
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Patti LaBelle used a fairly disturbing racial analogy to inspire choir members to sing better on NBC's weeklong competition show, "Clash of the Choirs."
"I said, 'Scream like a woman with a black man chasing you, trying to get your purse,' " LaBelle revealed in a telephone press conference.
But in LaBelle's choir of 20, she said, "I have more white than black. So I'm not prejudiced. I don't have no racial thing going through this."
Alrighty then.
"Clash of the Choirs" runs live four nights in a row, starting Monday. Five choirs compete to win charity money for hometown causes. Viewers phone in votes.
Each choir is run by a music star who assembled it. So LaBelle found people for her choir in her hometown of Philadelphia: Nick Lachey in Cincinnati; Michael Bolton in New Haven, Conn.; Kelly Rowland in Houston, and Blake Shelton in Oklahoma City.
The phone conference with LaBelle and Bolton was weirder than most, since LaBelle was on her mobile phone, shopping, and couldn't hear some questions.
"I'm in a store buying lamps. I'm in a lamp store, and everybody is talking. So I messed up. I didn't hear," she said. A few moments later: "Let me go in the -- can I use your bathroom, miss? I'm going in here. Oh. Somebody's in there. Oh gosh."
What in the world is going on with Patti LaBelle?
Anywho, each choir had to learn seven songs, a mix of pop, rock, country, gospel and a Christmas song.
I asked if, since there'll be a Christmas song, will there also be, say, a Jewish or Buddhist song. I was making a halfhearted serious point, but no one cared.
"I got kicked out of Hebrew School for betting on the dreidel," Bolton said, then added seriously, "Hanukkah would be done" by Monday.
"If you'd like to submit some Buddhist songs," executive producer Jason Raff said, "we'd be happy to ..."
OK, all right, already. Geez. But oh, according to Raff, there might be a Bon Jovi song. Oy-tastic.
At least there's no ageism in "Choirs." Bolton's group ranges from 20 to 77. Maybe that's why LaBelle was predicting victory in TV ads.
"I saw this [commercial] on last night," LaBelle said. "It was a piece where I said, 'I know I'm going to win.' Now, that's not good to say that, because suppose I don't win. I'm going to look like a fool."
Yeah. Probably.
New game show is plodding, predictable and a little sexist
December 15, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
ABC's new "Duel," which also airs next week, smells like most prime-time game shows. Contestants trash-talk. Women cry. Or they brag about their awesome kids. Hot models ("chip girls") saunter in the background.
Women have come so very far, haven't they?
Like "Deal or No Deal" in 2005, the show's getting a weeklong holiday trial. If it does well in the ratings, it could get a season. For now, "Duel" runs from Monday (delayed by the Bears game that night until 1:35 a.m.) through Friday, with a conclusion on Sunday.
Two contestants face off in multiple-choice trivia questions. The loser is the first person who misses an answer or runs out of chips to bet with. The winner then picks another contestant to take on.
Next weekend, the top four money winners will go head-to-head for a sliding jackpot that probably will come close to $1 million.
Everybody gets a label, including two Chicago guys in the running: Paul Cales, "The Carpenter," and Robert Walker, "The Telemarketer." The all-business host, ESPN radio guy Mike Greenberg, says a high school dropout and a professor have the same odds of winning.
I suppose he's right. An easy question: "Which of these words is not included in the Pledge of Allegiance?"
A slightly harder one: "The number of hydrogen atoms in a molecule of water, plus the number of pints in a gallon, equals: 5, 10, 13 or 18?"
Poker-style posturing between rivals is a twist. But essentially you've seen this kind of show before. It looks all sparkly clean and bright like "Millionaire." But the thing that really kills it is it takes forever for each answer to be read.
My answer is "watch something else."
Doug Elfman
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
ABC's new "Duel," which also airs next week, smells like most prime-time game shows. Contestants trash-talk. Women cry. Or they brag about their awesome kids. Hot models ("chip girls") saunter in the background.
Women have come so very far, haven't they?
Like "Deal or No Deal" in 2005, the show's getting a weeklong holiday trial. If it does well in the ratings, it could get a season. For now, "Duel" runs from Monday (delayed by the Bears game that night until 1:35 a.m.) through Friday, with a conclusion on Sunday.
Two contestants face off in multiple-choice trivia questions. The loser is the first person who misses an answer or runs out of chips to bet with. The winner then picks another contestant to take on.
Next weekend, the top four money winners will go head-to-head for a sliding jackpot that probably will come close to $1 million.
Everybody gets a label, including two Chicago guys in the running: Paul Cales, "The Carpenter," and Robert Walker, "The Telemarketer." The all-business host, ESPN radio guy Mike Greenberg, says a high school dropout and a professor have the same odds of winning.
I suppose he's right. An easy question: "Which of these words is not included in the Pledge of Allegiance?"
A slightly harder one: "The number of hydrogen atoms in a molecule of water, plus the number of pints in a gallon, equals: 5, 10, 13 or 18?"
Poker-style posturing between rivals is a twist. But essentially you've seen this kind of show before. It looks all sparkly clean and bright like "Millionaire." But the thing that really kills it is it takes forever for each answer to be read.
My answer is "watch something else."
Doug Elfman
Sunday, December 09, 2007
'Mitch Albom's For One More Day' tells it like it is -- sweet and sour
December 9, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
It's easy for snarky people like me to ridicule love and hope, because they let us down all the damn time. Witness the beginning of "Mitch Albom's For One More Day." It starts with a man, alone and lost, placing a pistol to his temple. Love and hope failed him.
Will he shoot? Not if his mother can help it. She is dead. But she appears from the afterlife at the last moment so she can spend one more day with him. Her goal is to change how he views and breathes life.
It's a Scrooge story, the tale of a mother and son as told through conversations and flashbacks. The narrative is fine, beautifully directed by Lloyd Kramer, carefully edited and humanly acted.
And what Albom explores in his screenplay (based on his novella of the same title) is startlingly convincing: Don't love the wrong people the wrong way. Love the right people, those who truly love you back, the right way.
This is where I would usually kick into snarky high gear. Fictions concerned with a "love can save us all" mentality often are presented with too much cardboard schmaltz to take seriously, even if "love can save us all" is true.
But "For One More Day" (an "Oprah Winfrey Presents" film, like his earlier hit, "Tuesdays With Morrie") knows bad love doesn't cut it. In Charley's case, his dad loved him the wrong way, through bitter dictatorship and recrimination. His mom Posey loved him the right way, with wise, if imperfect, tender actions.
Early in Charley's childhood, Dad and Mom divorced, and he obeyed his harsh father, who convinced him his mother's kindness was weak. (Charley is played by Michael Imperioli as an adult and by his son, Vadim Imperioli, as a kid in flashbacks.)
"No sympathy for losers," young Charley's dad (Scott Cohen) says, speaking like a fearful loser.
It isn't until his mother appears like a ghost that he comes to see her strength for the first time. (The older Posey is played by Ellen Burstyn; the younger flashback Posey is played by Samantha Mathis.)
It is this point I wish viewers would embrace most. People who are honest and good and kind are not weak. They are the strong ones. The ones who seem strong by trying to imprint their twisted idea of love on you are the weak losers.
You can tell the difference between the two by judging people by their actions, not their words. It's nice to hear "I love you." It's realer to feel it warmly.
Charley thinks he feels love from his dad, because his dad is intent on shaping his son. He wants Charley to play baseball all the time, tells him not to grow up to be "ordinary," criticizes Charley's mother and worse.
As an adult, Charley walks his dad's course and defends his father, which leads to trouble.
If you watch "For One More Day," you may find yourself asking: Who have I been defending who doesn't deserve it? And who have I been taking for granted who deserves better love?
As a critic of sappiness, I don't think you'll find it sappy. It's saved by a quiet, complex tone and structure, which mirrors a person's real life much better than the average TV movie.
That tone gives thoughtfulness to cliched truisms from the mom, statements that sound like things a cognitive behavioral therapist might say.
"Sometimes children want you to hurt the way they do," she tells Charley after his daughter doesn't invite him to her wedding.
And she says of his disastrous life, "Things can be fixed, you know."
A life really can be fixed, especially if you're a healthy American with enough money and brains, which Charley is and has.
(Or as someone said wisely in the movie "I Heart Huckabees," "Everything you could ever want or be, you already have and are.")
Yet Charley went sour too often, like his dad. When he grows incredulous that his dead mother is talking to him, he stresses to her this cannot be, because she expired years before.
"Oh Charley," she says softly. "You make too much of things."
I love that. He does make too much of things. He had a great life, yet lived not lightly enough. Then he lost love and hope, his parents, his marriage and his daughter's love.
But did he "lose" them? Some things you lose. Other things, you throw away but think you lost.
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
It's easy for snarky people like me to ridicule love and hope, because they let us down all the damn time. Witness the beginning of "Mitch Albom's For One More Day." It starts with a man, alone and lost, placing a pistol to his temple. Love and hope failed him.
Will he shoot? Not if his mother can help it. She is dead. But she appears from the afterlife at the last moment so she can spend one more day with him. Her goal is to change how he views and breathes life.
It's a Scrooge story, the tale of a mother and son as told through conversations and flashbacks. The narrative is fine, beautifully directed by Lloyd Kramer, carefully edited and humanly acted.
And what Albom explores in his screenplay (based on his novella of the same title) is startlingly convincing: Don't love the wrong people the wrong way. Love the right people, those who truly love you back, the right way.
This is where I would usually kick into snarky high gear. Fictions concerned with a "love can save us all" mentality often are presented with too much cardboard schmaltz to take seriously, even if "love can save us all" is true.
But "For One More Day" (an "Oprah Winfrey Presents" film, like his earlier hit, "Tuesdays With Morrie") knows bad love doesn't cut it. In Charley's case, his dad loved him the wrong way, through bitter dictatorship and recrimination. His mom Posey loved him the right way, with wise, if imperfect, tender actions.
Early in Charley's childhood, Dad and Mom divorced, and he obeyed his harsh father, who convinced him his mother's kindness was weak. (Charley is played by Michael Imperioli as an adult and by his son, Vadim Imperioli, as a kid in flashbacks.)
"No sympathy for losers," young Charley's dad (Scott Cohen) says, speaking like a fearful loser.
It isn't until his mother appears like a ghost that he comes to see her strength for the first time. (The older Posey is played by Ellen Burstyn; the younger flashback Posey is played by Samantha Mathis.)
It is this point I wish viewers would embrace most. People who are honest and good and kind are not weak. They are the strong ones. The ones who seem strong by trying to imprint their twisted idea of love on you are the weak losers.
You can tell the difference between the two by judging people by their actions, not their words. It's nice to hear "I love you." It's realer to feel it warmly.
Charley thinks he feels love from his dad, because his dad is intent on shaping his son. He wants Charley to play baseball all the time, tells him not to grow up to be "ordinary," criticizes Charley's mother and worse.
As an adult, Charley walks his dad's course and defends his father, which leads to trouble.
If you watch "For One More Day," you may find yourself asking: Who have I been defending who doesn't deserve it? And who have I been taking for granted who deserves better love?
As a critic of sappiness, I don't think you'll find it sappy. It's saved by a quiet, complex tone and structure, which mirrors a person's real life much better than the average TV movie.
That tone gives thoughtfulness to cliched truisms from the mom, statements that sound like things a cognitive behavioral therapist might say.
"Sometimes children want you to hurt the way they do," she tells Charley after his daughter doesn't invite him to her wedding.
And she says of his disastrous life, "Things can be fixed, you know."
A life really can be fixed, especially if you're a healthy American with enough money and brains, which Charley is and has.
(Or as someone said wisely in the movie "I Heart Huckabees," "Everything you could ever want or be, you already have and are.")
Yet Charley went sour too often, like his dad. When he grows incredulous that his dead mother is talking to him, he stresses to her this cannot be, because she expired years before.
"Oh Charley," she says softly. "You make too much of things."
I love that. He does make too much of things. He had a great life, yet lived not lightly enough. Then he lost love and hope, his parents, his marriage and his daughter's love.
But did he "lose" them? Some things you lose. Other things, you throw away but think you lost.
delfman@suntimes.com
Friday, December 07, 2007
My hometown paper, The New Orleans Times-Picayune, picks up The Game Dork, makes my family very proud
New in Lagniappe: video game reviews
When Doug Elfman was growing up in New Orleans and Athens, Ga., adults kept telling him he was wasting his life by playing video games. But he stayed his course, killing virtual Nazis and angry-eyed mushrooms. And now he writes the biggest, self-syndicated video game column in America, and perhaps the world. He's like the Roger Ebert of video games.
In Friday's Lagniappe, Elfman's weekly video game column, Game Dork, launches with a lineup of holiday gift ideas for the gamer in your life.
Elfman, a graduate of Louisiana State University, interned at the Times-Picayune in 1990, then explored newspapers throughout the South, covering hurricanes, presidential campaign stops, and lots of court cases involving indicted mayors and criminals who pummeled store Santas.
Then, in 2000, Elfman, now 40, became a nationally recognized music critic at The Las Vegas Review-Journal, where he also began writing about games. It was there he earned three first-place awards -- for feature writing, and arts and entertainment criticism -- from the American Association of Sunday and Feature Editors. But he came to prominence mostly for coining the phrase "suckity-suck-sucked" after experiencing a Britney Spears concert.
For the past few years, Elfman -- whose family is rebuilding in Gentilly, post-Katrina -- has been critiquing TV shows on staff at The Sun-Times in Chicago. Occasionally, he appears on "Good Morning America" to talk about TV.
"So my job, in essence, is to sleep in, then watch and play TV," Elfman said. "Whenever college journalists ask me how to attain such a lifestyle, I paraphrase Mariah Carey, whom I never listen to, by saying, 'You gotta make it happen.' "
Doug Elfman blogs at http://www.DougElfman.com. His column will feature the latest in video game titles and news. For for it each Friday at http://www.nola.com/entertainment
When Doug Elfman was growing up in New Orleans and Athens, Ga., adults kept telling him he was wasting his life by playing video games. But he stayed his course, killing virtual Nazis and angry-eyed mushrooms. And now he writes the biggest, self-syndicated video game column in America, and perhaps the world. He's like the Roger Ebert of video games.
In Friday's Lagniappe, Elfman's weekly video game column, Game Dork, launches with a lineup of holiday gift ideas for the gamer in your life.
Elfman, a graduate of Louisiana State University, interned at the Times-Picayune in 1990, then explored newspapers throughout the South, covering hurricanes, presidential campaign stops, and lots of court cases involving indicted mayors and criminals who pummeled store Santas.
Then, in 2000, Elfman, now 40, became a nationally recognized music critic at The Las Vegas Review-Journal, where he also began writing about games. It was there he earned three first-place awards -- for feature writing, and arts and entertainment criticism -- from the American Association of Sunday and Feature Editors. But he came to prominence mostly for coining the phrase "suckity-suck-sucked" after experiencing a Britney Spears concert.
For the past few years, Elfman -- whose family is rebuilding in Gentilly, post-Katrina -- has been critiquing TV shows on staff at The Sun-Times in Chicago. Occasionally, he appears on "Good Morning America" to talk about TV.
"So my job, in essence, is to sleep in, then watch and play TV," Elfman said. "Whenever college journalists ask me how to attain such a lifestyle, I paraphrase Mariah Carey, whom I never listen to, by saying, 'You gotta make it happen.' "
Doug Elfman blogs at http://www.DougElfman.com. His column will feature the latest in video game titles and news. For for it each Friday at http://www.nola.com/entertainment
'CSI' outshines stars
December 6, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Jorja Fox fans surely will be bummed when "CSI" returns with a new episode tonight. Fox left the show a few weeks ago, and she took away her character, Sara Sidle. But don't expect "CSI" to suffer much because, duh, the true star of America's No. 1 drama is its sci-fi special effects.
"CSI's" graphical graffiti is so whiz-bam cool, its success as pop iconography reminds me of the "Simpsons" episode where Homer goes to space and thinks he'll be a hero for saving a space shuttle. But instead, the metal rod he uses to keep the shuttle door shut becomes the hero, as Time magazine proclaims, "In Rod We Trust."
CSI" is just like that. Sure, the detectives are wily, but where would they be without machines that analyze hair, fiber, bullets, wood, blood and all that junk? Where would they be without super-cool and offbeat closeups of dying people, and camera angles that spin in slow motion around bodies falling from windows?
Maybe William Petersen thinks he's the star, but his Grissom barely does much anymore other than sit at a desk, reading papers, with eyeglasses tipped at the end of his nose. Marg Helgenberger doesn't get a ton of face time as Catherine.
And Fox -- who was named the 80th sexiest woman in the world by Stuff magazine in 2003 -- was great in her best moments. But she too was just a cog in the wheel of an ensemble show that (like "Law & Order") barely notices its detectives have personal lives, including Sara's long affair with Grissom.
So the eye-catching look of "CSI" gets all the attention and deserves its acclaim. But what tickles me most is what the series often sounds like: the Discovery Channel.
If you saw the episode "A La Cart" this season, you were told by a restaurateur, who was standing at the scene of a crime:
"The tongue understands four major taste groups -- salty, sweet, sour, bitter -- and has over 10,000 taste buds, each with a direct connection to the pleasure center of the brain, triggering endorphins. The anticipation and release of eating good food is chemically quite similar to getting high on drugs."
This had nothing to do with the case at hand. Clearly, the writers (now on strike) just thought it was cool. I bet, though, this is the way many viewers learn smidgens of knowledge on TV now -- nugget by graphically enhanced science nugget.
But certainly, much of the appeal comes from that fancy artwork, which looks better than it ever has. While that chef lectured about taste buds, you saw a sleek montage: a woman libidinously lipping down on food, a closeup of a graphically enhanced tongue and a virtual tour of how brain endorphins shoot through the human body.
This expensive style is taken for granted, since it's changed the style of the TV procedural. But it's really quite extraordinary. Several weeks ago, a guy was decapitated while racing a go-cart behind an 18-wheeler on a road. But you didn't see the decapitation.
Instead, the scene opened with a head in a helmet bouncing down the road, as the camera perspective swirled around it and the "Blue Danube" waltz toyed to the rhythm of the bounces.
This was played neither for drama nor for comedy. It was just a dash of commercial art, a form of art that at top form, like this, defends the capitalization of art.
Where "CSI" goes dumb is in the easy confessions cops get out of criminals. And the personal stories of detectives are too rare to give the show much depth.
That said, Sara's departure brought about a sweet scene where Fox portrayed quiet despair. When she finally split the Las Vegas cop shop, Fox commanded long and lovely little scenes for Sara to just be, to just sit, to deteriorate on camera.
When "CSI" seesaws between these extravagant visuals and subtle personal moments, I'm reminded of filmmaker Sam Raimi's quote that he intended for "Spider-Man 2" to be part blockbuster and part indie film. "CSI" achieves that, except when it doesn't, and then it becomes rote.
Where "CSI" loses me is with the repetitive, personality-free nuts and bolts of its howdunits. But while some other shows don't deserve top ratings ("Grey's Anatomy," "Private Practice"), "CSI" remains a worthy hour in its eighth year." It's three parts howdunit, two parts avant-garde cinema and one part Discovery dork. It is the mise-en-scene of massacre and mascara.
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Jorja Fox fans surely will be bummed when "CSI" returns with a new episode tonight. Fox left the show a few weeks ago, and she took away her character, Sara Sidle. But don't expect "CSI" to suffer much because, duh, the true star of America's No. 1 drama is its sci-fi special effects.
"CSI's" graphical graffiti is so whiz-bam cool, its success as pop iconography reminds me of the "Simpsons" episode where Homer goes to space and thinks he'll be a hero for saving a space shuttle. But instead, the metal rod he uses to keep the shuttle door shut becomes the hero, as Time magazine proclaims, "In Rod We Trust."
CSI" is just like that. Sure, the detectives are wily, but where would they be without machines that analyze hair, fiber, bullets, wood, blood and all that junk? Where would they be without super-cool and offbeat closeups of dying people, and camera angles that spin in slow motion around bodies falling from windows?
Maybe William Petersen thinks he's the star, but his Grissom barely does much anymore other than sit at a desk, reading papers, with eyeglasses tipped at the end of his nose. Marg Helgenberger doesn't get a ton of face time as Catherine.
And Fox -- who was named the 80th sexiest woman in the world by Stuff magazine in 2003 -- was great in her best moments. But she too was just a cog in the wheel of an ensemble show that (like "Law & Order") barely notices its detectives have personal lives, including Sara's long affair with Grissom.
So the eye-catching look of "CSI" gets all the attention and deserves its acclaim. But what tickles me most is what the series often sounds like: the Discovery Channel.
If you saw the episode "A La Cart" this season, you were told by a restaurateur, who was standing at the scene of a crime:
"The tongue understands four major taste groups -- salty, sweet, sour, bitter -- and has over 10,000 taste buds, each with a direct connection to the pleasure center of the brain, triggering endorphins. The anticipation and release of eating good food is chemically quite similar to getting high on drugs."
This had nothing to do with the case at hand. Clearly, the writers (now on strike) just thought it was cool. I bet, though, this is the way many viewers learn smidgens of knowledge on TV now -- nugget by graphically enhanced science nugget.
But certainly, much of the appeal comes from that fancy artwork, which looks better than it ever has. While that chef lectured about taste buds, you saw a sleek montage: a woman libidinously lipping down on food, a closeup of a graphically enhanced tongue and a virtual tour of how brain endorphins shoot through the human body.
This expensive style is taken for granted, since it's changed the style of the TV procedural. But it's really quite extraordinary. Several weeks ago, a guy was decapitated while racing a go-cart behind an 18-wheeler on a road. But you didn't see the decapitation.
Instead, the scene opened with a head in a helmet bouncing down the road, as the camera perspective swirled around it and the "Blue Danube" waltz toyed to the rhythm of the bounces.
This was played neither for drama nor for comedy. It was just a dash of commercial art, a form of art that at top form, like this, defends the capitalization of art.
Where "CSI" goes dumb is in the easy confessions cops get out of criminals. And the personal stories of detectives are too rare to give the show much depth.
That said, Sara's departure brought about a sweet scene where Fox portrayed quiet despair. When she finally split the Las Vegas cop shop, Fox commanded long and lovely little scenes for Sara to just be, to just sit, to deteriorate on camera.
When "CSI" seesaws between these extravagant visuals and subtle personal moments, I'm reminded of filmmaker Sam Raimi's quote that he intended for "Spider-Man 2" to be part blockbuster and part indie film. "CSI" achieves that, except when it doesn't, and then it becomes rote.
Where "CSI" loses me is with the repetitive, personality-free nuts and bolts of its howdunits. But while some other shows don't deserve top ratings ("Grey's Anatomy," "Private Practice"), "CSI" remains a worthy hour in its eighth year." It's three parts howdunit, two parts avant-garde cinema and one part Discovery dork. It is the mise-en-scene of massacre and mascara.
Striking writers deserve forum on talk shows
December 5, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
I want to lay down a challenge for Carson Daly and Ellen DeGeneres, since they've decided to host their talk shows without striking writers:
They should invite their writers to appear on "Last Call With Carson Daly" and "The Ellen DeGeneres Show," even if it means asking them to cross their own picket lines. They could talk about the strike, how they feel about the shows going without them and what life is like as 21st century laborers on a picket line.
Both Carson and Ellen have talked about how much they love and support their scribblers. Why not pay them the $600, or however much talk-show guests get paid, to make their case to loyal viewers?
Ellen wasn't off the air long before she returned to the set. Carson resumed "Last Call" on Monday. On the show, he said he did so only because NBC executives, presumably, gave him an ultimatum they would fire his 75 other staffers if he didn't. And NBC had just canned 80 of Jay Leno's staff. (Leno said he'd pay their salaries, at least for a while.)
"You either come back or they're laid off," someone told Daly, though he didn't name names. "I said, 'Let's turn the lights on, I'm gonna come back.' "
Daly said it was no fun without writers. Monday's show didn't look like much fun.
Eight minutes in, he ran out of things to talk about and declared, "I'm not sure what to do now." So he held up photos of staffers, then interviewed Victoria's Secret model Karolina Kurkova.
"Wow, you're tall," he said, then administered a driving-test quiz to Kurkova, who doesn't have a license.
"I know you don't go on red; you stop. You go when it's green, right?" she said. "I'm blond. I'm blond."
Ellen has been filling her time partly by playing bongos. Carson says he'll fill time with more band performances (Monday's was Chicago's Plain White T's) and add interviews of young people who could use a showbiz break.
Even if you're on the side of striking writers, it's hard to get upset with Ellen and Carson for putting paychecks into the hands of directors and camera operators and the like.
But clearly the hosts are suffering a bit without professional pens, and they're admitting as much. So, talk show hosts: bring those writers on to chat. They are newsmakers, after all. And they could use the money.
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
I want to lay down a challenge for Carson Daly and Ellen DeGeneres, since they've decided to host their talk shows without striking writers:
They should invite their writers to appear on "Last Call With Carson Daly" and "The Ellen DeGeneres Show," even if it means asking them to cross their own picket lines. They could talk about the strike, how they feel about the shows going without them and what life is like as 21st century laborers on a picket line.
Both Carson and Ellen have talked about how much they love and support their scribblers. Why not pay them the $600, or however much talk-show guests get paid, to make their case to loyal viewers?
Ellen wasn't off the air long before she returned to the set. Carson resumed "Last Call" on Monday. On the show, he said he did so only because NBC executives, presumably, gave him an ultimatum they would fire his 75 other staffers if he didn't. And NBC had just canned 80 of Jay Leno's staff. (Leno said he'd pay their salaries, at least for a while.)
"You either come back or they're laid off," someone told Daly, though he didn't name names. "I said, 'Let's turn the lights on, I'm gonna come back.' "
Daly said it was no fun without writers. Monday's show didn't look like much fun.
Eight minutes in, he ran out of things to talk about and declared, "I'm not sure what to do now." So he held up photos of staffers, then interviewed Victoria's Secret model Karolina Kurkova.
"Wow, you're tall," he said, then administered a driving-test quiz to Kurkova, who doesn't have a license.
"I know you don't go on red; you stop. You go when it's green, right?" she said. "I'm blond. I'm blond."
Ellen has been filling her time partly by playing bongos. Carson says he'll fill time with more band performances (Monday's was Chicago's Plain White T's) and add interviews of young people who could use a showbiz break.
Even if you're on the side of striking writers, it's hard to get upset with Ellen and Carson for putting paychecks into the hands of directors and camera operators and the like.
But clearly the hosts are suffering a bit without professional pens, and they're admitting as much. So, talk show hosts: bring those writers on to chat. They are newsmakers, after all. And they could use the money.
delfman@suntimes.com
Saturday, December 01, 2007
Rock Band is one of this holiday's most ambitious new video games
Doug Elfman
The Game Dork
This holiday's most ambitious new video game is a rock band in a box. Rock Band retails for $170. Yes, that's insane. But it comes with a game you can play for months. Plus a guitar. Plus a microphone. And a drum set.
None of these plastic, almost life-size instruments are playable in the real world. You hook them up to your Xbox 360 or PS 3. Then you play the instruments exactly like you would in Guitar Hero. Notes scroll on the screen. You play them.
You can even hook up four instruments at the same time and invite three friends to play guitar, bass and drums while you sing.
To tell the truth, I'm kind of over the whole Guitar Hero phenomenon. I've been tinkling with variations of it for a few years.
So it's an awesome change of pace to bang on four drum pads and a foot pedal in Rock Band. There you are, sort of playing rhythm on Nine Inch Nails' "The Hand That Feeds."
Even more fun: singing. I can't stand karaoke, which was designed to entertain one person at a time. But Rock Band's vocals are reminiscent of very fun Karaoke Revolution and SingStar games. It does a fantastic job of recognizing when you sing in pitch, in key and in time.
I don't want to sound uppity, but years ago I won a partial violin scholarship, and I sang in a garage band that never left the garage. So I conquer large parts of Guitar Hero fairly easily.
Even so, it's especially gratifying to sing the lead to Nirvana's "In Bloom" and Radiohead's "Creep."
There are gender-based obstacles. The vocals are female for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' "Maps." I can barely hit the high notes, so I sing in a lower octave to get the job done.
If you have scant musical talent, you can breeze through most songs by turning the settings to "easy." "Medium" is tougher. "Hard" and "Expert" seriously test the skills of, say, an ex-violinist.
What stinks is dealing with songs you don't like. I could do without Iron Maiden's "Run to the Hills" and even Foo Fighters' "Learn to Fly" (not the Foo's finest day).
Song choices are also the problem with Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock. It's entertaining (it comes with a guitar, no drums and no mike) and features 71 tunes. But oh, the horrors of Kiss' "Rock and Roll All Nite" and Slipnot's "Before I Forget." Boo, hiss.
The bonus potential of Rock Band and Guitar Hero is this: Game makers are selling more songs online. Rock Hero (58 songs) will soon offer downloads of whole albums, including Nirvana's Nevermind. I can't wait for that.
But I have a plea for the people behind Rock Band. Don't forget other music from alt nation and electronica land. Please pretend you're Santa, and consider my wish list of Liz Phair, Portishead, Olive, Bjork, Peaches, Andrew Bird, Fiona Apple, Rufus Wainwright and Regina Spektor. Thanks, you're real pals.
Game Dork Doug Elfman is also the TV critic at the Chicago Sun-Times. He blogs at DougElfman.com.
'Tin Man' is long, clunky and cliched; But the evil flying monkeys are boobalicious
November 30, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Here's how the wicked witch rolls in a new "Wizard of Oz" miniseries: She opens her bosomy bosom-holder, so that evil flying monkeys awaken as inky tattoos from her bulbous chest. They grow lifelike and fly the unfriendly skies in search of Dorothy.
This catch-and-release flying monkey routine appears quite a bit in Sci Fi Channel's six-hour miniseries "Tin Man." Evidently, evil flying monkeys are boobalicious.
As you can see, "Tin Man" does not resemble the classic movie "Oz." It's mildly inspired by the The Wonderful Wizard of Oz book, which is in public domain, therefore no one has to get permission to rewrite and film it.
There's no singing, no dancing, no Toto at the start, and the wizard's on drugs. Oh, how the times keep a- changin'.
Screenwriters Steve Long Mitchell and Craig Van Sickle turned the whole thing into a standard sci-fi techy tale entrenched in the theme of man vs. anti-utopian state.
"OZ" now stands for "Outer Zone," a non-Earth place that the dictator-witch has turned into a gray cloud of gun-toting brutes and dead trees.
Dorothy (Zooey Deschanel) is no longer named Dorothy Gale. People awkwardly call her DG. She's not 20 years old, she's 20 annuals. And the antagonist doesn't appear as a green witch; she's DG's monkey-boobalicious sister Azkadellia (Kathleen Robertson).
None of this is a bad idea. I'm reminded of a way cooler 1997 Sigourney Weaver movie, "Snow White: A Tale of Terror." It reimagined "Snow White" as a moody spook fest. But the execution of "Tin Man" is flat, flatter, flattest.
The dialogue is utilitarian, except when it's "Dungeons and Dragons" cliche, like: "We're travelers of the realms seeking a warm meal and a cold cup of grog. ... May your hearth be warm." Puke.
The actors look rushed to stay on production schedule. The direction and camera shots are workaday.
The pace of "Tin Man" reminds me of tortured, role-playing video games where the journey is a string of clunky objectives, like: Talk to a guy, who gives you a riddle, which leads to a map, which leads to a guy, who gives you a mission, which leads to a room, where you enter a code, which unlocks an item, which combats the villain.
Also, at six hours, it feels four hours too long. So if you're interested, record it and watch it on fast-forward. You can hit pause for the evil flying monkey boobs.
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Here's how the wicked witch rolls in a new "Wizard of Oz" miniseries: She opens her bosomy bosom-holder, so that evil flying monkeys awaken as inky tattoos from her bulbous chest. They grow lifelike and fly the unfriendly skies in search of Dorothy.
This catch-and-release flying monkey routine appears quite a bit in Sci Fi Channel's six-hour miniseries "Tin Man." Evidently, evil flying monkeys are boobalicious.
As you can see, "Tin Man" does not resemble the classic movie "Oz." It's mildly inspired by the The Wonderful Wizard of Oz book, which is in public domain, therefore no one has to get permission to rewrite and film it.
There's no singing, no dancing, no Toto at the start, and the wizard's on drugs. Oh, how the times keep a- changin'.
Screenwriters Steve Long Mitchell and Craig Van Sickle turned the whole thing into a standard sci-fi techy tale entrenched in the theme of man vs. anti-utopian state.
"OZ" now stands for "Outer Zone," a non-Earth place that the dictator-witch has turned into a gray cloud of gun-toting brutes and dead trees.
Dorothy (Zooey Deschanel) is no longer named Dorothy Gale. People awkwardly call her DG. She's not 20 years old, she's 20 annuals. And the antagonist doesn't appear as a green witch; she's DG's monkey-boobalicious sister Azkadellia (Kathleen Robertson).
None of this is a bad idea. I'm reminded of a way cooler 1997 Sigourney Weaver movie, "Snow White: A Tale of Terror." It reimagined "Snow White" as a moody spook fest. But the execution of "Tin Man" is flat, flatter, flattest.
The dialogue is utilitarian, except when it's "Dungeons and Dragons" cliche, like: "We're travelers of the realms seeking a warm meal and a cold cup of grog. ... May your hearth be warm." Puke.
The actors look rushed to stay on production schedule. The direction and camera shots are workaday.
The pace of "Tin Man" reminds me of tortured, role-playing video games where the journey is a string of clunky objectives, like: Talk to a guy, who gives you a riddle, which leads to a map, which leads to a guy, who gives you a mission, which leads to a room, where you enter a code, which unlocks an item, which combats the villain.
Also, at six hours, it feels four hours too long. So if you're interested, record it and watch it on fast-forward. You can hit pause for the evil flying monkey boobs.
delfman@suntimes.com
'Model' castoff 'got a fair shake'
November 30, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
She scaled a rock-climbing wall in high heels in a single bound. And she was the chatty "girl" who provided "America's Next Top Model" with its best TV this season. But Heather Kuzmich was eliminated Wednesday, perhaps partly because she has a mild form of autism.
Kuzmich -- a student at the Illinois Institute of Art at the West Mart Center -- has Asperger syndrome. It makes Kuzmich slightly socially clumsy.
Some rivals made fun of her, like when she jumped in a shower with two freaked-out naked girls, because she'd called dibs.
But Kuzmich, a 21-year-old native of Valparaiso, Ind., isn't bitter in the slightest when she watches the show.
"It's pretty accurate, other than the fact that they weren't that mean to me. Bianca and I got along pretty damn well" despite a few televised squabbles, Kuzmich says.
"They aren't really showing parts where we bonded" because "they only have a certain amount of time" to produce an episode.
"I do believe I got a fair shake," Kuzmich says. "If I hadn't mentioned that I have autism, the girls would have not [claimed] I got treated specially. I never felt like I got treated specially."
In fact, Tyra Banks and other judges dumped her after saying they wouldn't show favoritism because of her syndrome-related troubles: Flubbing a TV ad big time; and failing to navigate cab rides while trying to book gigs.
I ask Kuzmich if contestants get secretly happy when a rival fails a challenge. That's only "kind of true," she says.
"Girls do get worried about each other, because you do realize we're human beings," she says. "So in the back of the mind, we do think that. But truth be told, we are worried about each other," too.
Often, reality show stars are villains, but Kuzmich was likable and earned a lot of face time -- and body time. She stripped nude on TV with ease when she showered.
"I knew they weren't going to show [nudity on the air]," Kuzmich says. "But at the time I was like, 'Ha.' I really didn't care at that moment. I was stressed out."
Then there was the small fit Kuzmich threw over sleeping arrangements. Bianca laughed at her.
"Wish I could get the joke," Heather responded.
"You!" Bianca clarified. "YOU'RE the joke."
Kuzmich does wish other girls had been given more airtime.
"There's people out there that think I said certain things so I could get more [TV] time. And honestly that's not what I was trying to do."
Kuzmich plans to pursue modeling. She won CoverGirl model of the week eight times. But she's also headed back to class to study videogame art and design, to have "something to fall back on."
"When I was on the show, I sneaked in a [Nintendo] Game Boy," she says, though producers took it away, along with other girls' iPods.
She rolled with it all.
"The experience was like modeling camp. It was very much fun," she says. "All of them were really great."
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
She scaled a rock-climbing wall in high heels in a single bound. And she was the chatty "girl" who provided "America's Next Top Model" with its best TV this season. But Heather Kuzmich was eliminated Wednesday, perhaps partly because she has a mild form of autism.
Kuzmich -- a student at the Illinois Institute of Art at the West Mart Center -- has Asperger syndrome. It makes Kuzmich slightly socially clumsy.
Some rivals made fun of her, like when she jumped in a shower with two freaked-out naked girls, because she'd called dibs.
But Kuzmich, a 21-year-old native of Valparaiso, Ind., isn't bitter in the slightest when she watches the show.
"It's pretty accurate, other than the fact that they weren't that mean to me. Bianca and I got along pretty damn well" despite a few televised squabbles, Kuzmich says.
"They aren't really showing parts where we bonded" because "they only have a certain amount of time" to produce an episode.
"I do believe I got a fair shake," Kuzmich says. "If I hadn't mentioned that I have autism, the girls would have not [claimed] I got treated specially. I never felt like I got treated specially."
In fact, Tyra Banks and other judges dumped her after saying they wouldn't show favoritism because of her syndrome-related troubles: Flubbing a TV ad big time; and failing to navigate cab rides while trying to book gigs.
I ask Kuzmich if contestants get secretly happy when a rival fails a challenge. That's only "kind of true," she says.
"Girls do get worried about each other, because you do realize we're human beings," she says. "So in the back of the mind, we do think that. But truth be told, we are worried about each other," too.
Often, reality show stars are villains, but Kuzmich was likable and earned a lot of face time -- and body time. She stripped nude on TV with ease when she showered.
"I knew they weren't going to show [nudity on the air]," Kuzmich says. "But at the time I was like, 'Ha.' I really didn't care at that moment. I was stressed out."
Then there was the small fit Kuzmich threw over sleeping arrangements. Bianca laughed at her.
"Wish I could get the joke," Heather responded.
"You!" Bianca clarified. "YOU'RE the joke."
Kuzmich does wish other girls had been given more airtime.
"There's people out there that think I said certain things so I could get more [TV] time. And honestly that's not what I was trying to do."
Kuzmich plans to pursue modeling. She won CoverGirl model of the week eight times. But she's also headed back to class to study videogame art and design, to have "something to fall back on."
"When I was on the show, I sneaked in a [Nintendo] Game Boy," she says, though producers took it away, along with other girls' iPods.
She rolled with it all.
"The experience was like modeling camp. It was very much fun," she says. "All of them were really great."
delfman@suntimes.com
TELEVISION REVIEW | Jesus flap was 'heaven', now it's 'Straight to Hell'
November 29, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
It's shocking that actors haven't hired goons to drag Kathy Griffin out of Hollywood by the roots of her screaming-red hair. She's like a spy for the rest of us, sneaking around L.A., then reporting back to us on how celebrities really are in private: egotistical, vapid and disconnected from reality.
Yet, stars keep hanging out with her. Griffin told Howard Stern this year about a juvenile toga party she went to in honor of Drew Barrymore: "Well, she didn't have a childhood, and now we all have to pay."
If Griffin held a bigger media megaphone, she could become a national treasure, like Stern. But at least we get her special reports on Bravo.
The newest is "Kathy Griffin: Straight to Hell." Filmed at the Chicago Theatre, this is the Oak Park native's best stand-up routine in a while. It's a tight hour of excellent jokes wrapped in true-adventure storytelling.
Here's one bit: Griffin ran into idiot Paris Hilton and realized she's "all limbs, kind of like a tarantula, crossed with a horse. Like a horse-tantula. Like, if a horse [mated with] a tarantula. You know, in a good way."
Griffin's best stuff this time is a dissection of Paula Abdul's craziness. ("I don't know what she's on. I'm not a pharmacist.")
But the "D-Lister" also dishes funny dirt on events she was involved in: appearing on "The View" the week Rosie O'Donnell split, and getting politically crucified for telling a Jesus joke after winning an Emmy. But you know, Griffin craves attention.
"It has been heaven for me," she says of the Emmy aftermath. "I mean, I was in Time and Newsweek and CNN. ... You can't buy this publicity!"
Spoken like a true comedian: Not even Jesus can be spared for the sake of a good joke and a showbiz minute of fame.
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
It's shocking that actors haven't hired goons to drag Kathy Griffin out of Hollywood by the roots of her screaming-red hair. She's like a spy for the rest of us, sneaking around L.A., then reporting back to us on how celebrities really are in private: egotistical, vapid and disconnected from reality.
Yet, stars keep hanging out with her. Griffin told Howard Stern this year about a juvenile toga party she went to in honor of Drew Barrymore: "Well, she didn't have a childhood, and now we all have to pay."
If Griffin held a bigger media megaphone, she could become a national treasure, like Stern. But at least we get her special reports on Bravo.
The newest is "Kathy Griffin: Straight to Hell." Filmed at the Chicago Theatre, this is the Oak Park native's best stand-up routine in a while. It's a tight hour of excellent jokes wrapped in true-adventure storytelling.
Here's one bit: Griffin ran into idiot Paris Hilton and realized she's "all limbs, kind of like a tarantula, crossed with a horse. Like a horse-tantula. Like, if a horse [mated with] a tarantula. You know, in a good way."
Griffin's best stuff this time is a dissection of Paula Abdul's craziness. ("I don't know what she's on. I'm not a pharmacist.")
But the "D-Lister" also dishes funny dirt on events she was involved in: appearing on "The View" the week Rosie O'Donnell split, and getting politically crucified for telling a Jesus joke after winning an Emmy. But you know, Griffin craves attention.
"It has been heaven for me," she says of the Emmy aftermath. "I mean, I was in Time and Newsweek and CNN. ... You can't buy this publicity!"
Spoken like a true comedian: Not even Jesus can be spared for the sake of a good joke and a showbiz minute of fame.
delfman@suntimes.com
TELEVISION REVIEW | Cute, funny 'Shrek the Halls' could become Yule treasure
November 28, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Hey, parents of little kids: You'd better set your recorder for "Shrek the Halls" tonight, so the kiddies can watch it 130 times in the next 27 days.
Lucky for you, "Shrek the Halls" is cute and funny enough not to drive adults completely out of their minds. For kids, it's quick and slick Shrek shtick.
I say this as a childless adult who enjoyed "Shrek," hated "Shrek 2" and skipped "Shrek the Third." I'm Shrekked out. And still, I laughed a few times and smiled more often than not.
The story picks up where "Shrek the Third" left off. Shrek (Mike Myers) and Princess Fiona (Cameron Diaz) are bringing up triplets in their ogre swamp, when Donkey (Eddie Murphy) begins pestering Shrek that Christmas is coming.
The only problem: "I have to make a Christmas," Shrek tells a store clerk, "and I have no idea what it is, or how to do it."
Then, for most of "Shrek the Halls," Shrek and Fiona play host to Donkey and the movies' other characters as they run around the swamp house, tell flashback stories about Christmases past and nail things to Pinocchio's legs.
I rolled my eyes only at the 1950s patriarchal nature of Shrek's leading around his woman, in her fuzzy slippers and nightie and passive-aggressive mom-wifery. Also, the third act is a predictable climax of conflict resolution.
But before that, director Gary Trousdale does right by the Dreamworks/Pacific Data Images animation. He finds new nuggets of humor and story in the already overcapitalized Shrek narrative.
Could "Shrek the Halls" become a classic? My guess is no, since it's fluffier than it is profound or touching, which are traits of, say, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" (which follows "Shrek the Halls" tonight at 7:30).
But "Shrek the Halls" does a very good job of top-to-bottom production. Even the music fits in bits of charm, ranging from the "O Fortuna" movement from Carl Orff's cantata "Carmina Burana" to the Waitresses' new-wave "Christmas Wrapping."
Nothing's more endearing, or funny, than the two most engaging characters, Puss in Boots (Antonio Banderas) and Gingerbread Man (Conrad Vernon). Puss in Boots goes cute, with those big eyes; I'm a sucker for that gag every time. Banderas and Vernon sell the charm of the cat and the cookie like nothing else in the "Shrek" universe.
Fourth and fifth "Shrek" movies are in the works, reportedly, as well as a Puss in Boots movie planned to play in between those two sequels. I'd rather Dreamworks focus first on the Puss in Boots flick. Shrek and Fiona are sweet and all. But that is one bad cat.
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Hey, parents of little kids: You'd better set your recorder for "Shrek the Halls" tonight, so the kiddies can watch it 130 times in the next 27 days.
Lucky for you, "Shrek the Halls" is cute and funny enough not to drive adults completely out of their minds. For kids, it's quick and slick Shrek shtick.
I say this as a childless adult who enjoyed "Shrek," hated "Shrek 2" and skipped "Shrek the Third." I'm Shrekked out. And still, I laughed a few times and smiled more often than not.
The story picks up where "Shrek the Third" left off. Shrek (Mike Myers) and Princess Fiona (Cameron Diaz) are bringing up triplets in their ogre swamp, when Donkey (Eddie Murphy) begins pestering Shrek that Christmas is coming.
The only problem: "I have to make a Christmas," Shrek tells a store clerk, "and I have no idea what it is, or how to do it."
Then, for most of "Shrek the Halls," Shrek and Fiona play host to Donkey and the movies' other characters as they run around the swamp house, tell flashback stories about Christmases past and nail things to Pinocchio's legs.
I rolled my eyes only at the 1950s patriarchal nature of Shrek's leading around his woman, in her fuzzy slippers and nightie and passive-aggressive mom-wifery. Also, the third act is a predictable climax of conflict resolution.
But before that, director Gary Trousdale does right by the Dreamworks/Pacific Data Images animation. He finds new nuggets of humor and story in the already overcapitalized Shrek narrative.
Could "Shrek the Halls" become a classic? My guess is no, since it's fluffier than it is profound or touching, which are traits of, say, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" (which follows "Shrek the Halls" tonight at 7:30).
But "Shrek the Halls" does a very good job of top-to-bottom production. Even the music fits in bits of charm, ranging from the "O Fortuna" movement from Carl Orff's cantata "Carmina Burana" to the Waitresses' new-wave "Christmas Wrapping."
Nothing's more endearing, or funny, than the two most engaging characters, Puss in Boots (Antonio Banderas) and Gingerbread Man (Conrad Vernon). Puss in Boots goes cute, with those big eyes; I'm a sucker for that gag every time. Banderas and Vernon sell the charm of the cat and the cookie like nothing else in the "Shrek" universe.
Fourth and fifth "Shrek" movies are in the works, reportedly, as well as a Puss in Boots movie planned to play in between those two sequels. I'd rather Dreamworks focus first on the Puss in Boots flick. Shrek and Fiona are sweet and all. But that is one bad cat.
delfman@suntimes.com
TELEVISION REVIEW | The actors work very hard, but even they can't help
November 26, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
People I know sometimes ask me why I hate a lot of things on TV.
First of all, I like plenty of good shows. But also, these people only turn on the shows they want to watch. They don't watch all the crap I have to watch.
They don't sit through all of a "Notes From the Underbelly." If they did, they would see I am always right about everything, and they would find it remarkable that watching so much bad TV hasn't turned me into an alcoholic or a member of an opium den.
"Underbelly" is a terrible, awful, unfunny "comedy." It sucked in its first season, although, granted, there were a few good lines every now and then, just as a stomach virus occasionally provides moments of relief.
In tonight's debut of the second season, pregnant Lauren gets aroused when her husband Andy finally starts asserting himself after years of saying "yes, dear." And Julie hires a foreign nanny who swaddles Julie's baby awesomely, and Julie really, really wants to know how she does it so well!
Each short scene ends with wacky music to try to convince you the painful scene is funny. The actors try their best. Some, especially Peter Cambor as Andy, would be great if they were in a funny comedy.
Alas. They are not.
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
People I know sometimes ask me why I hate a lot of things on TV.
First of all, I like plenty of good shows. But also, these people only turn on the shows they want to watch. They don't watch all the crap I have to watch.
They don't sit through all of a "Notes From the Underbelly." If they did, they would see I am always right about everything, and they would find it remarkable that watching so much bad TV hasn't turned me into an alcoholic or a member of an opium den.
"Underbelly" is a terrible, awful, unfunny "comedy." It sucked in its first season, although, granted, there were a few good lines every now and then, just as a stomach virus occasionally provides moments of relief.
In tonight's debut of the second season, pregnant Lauren gets aroused when her husband Andy finally starts asserting himself after years of saying "yes, dear." And Julie hires a foreign nanny who swaddles Julie's baby awesomely, and Julie really, really wants to know how she does it so well!
Each short scene ends with wacky music to try to convince you the painful scene is funny. The actors try their best. Some, especially Peter Cambor as Andy, would be great if they were in a funny comedy.
Alas. They are not.
Well-written, well-acted 'Aliens in America' worth your viewing time
November 25, 2007
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
It's a little baffling to see a very good comedy like "Aliens in America" dragging the bottom of the ratings. It's the best TV show you're not watching.
It's funny. It's written, directed and acted compellingly. And "Aliens in America" -- the story of Wisconsin high-schoolers and their family -- can appeal to fans of offbeat comedy without majorly upsetting the "family"-viewing crowd.
The show isn't prudish, yet the most risque thing I've heard on "Aliens" came when high school junior Justin saw cheerleaders frolicking in short skirts.
"It looks like a tampon commercial," Justin said as he eyed them approvingly, then added calmly in voice-over narration: "Just in case you don't know, tampon commercials are awesome."
Justin (Dan Byrd) is a stringbean dork whose hot sister was named by her peers as one of the most do-able girls in school. Justin was also named one of the most doable girls in school. That's how much kids bag on him.
Justin's best friend is Raja (Adhir Kalyan), the Pakistani exchange student his parents took in for the money, though they quickly warmed to his polite manners, smart demeanor and British-y accent.
Last Monday, awkward Justin vomited in Raja's backpack while Raja was wearing it, because it was the only thing nearby to boot into.
"Why?" confident Raja said, sounding as relaxed as a therapist and looking at the vomit with reserved disappointment. "Why in my book bag?"
Little moments like that work because Byrd and Kalyan have phenomenal presence, striking the exact right tone for natural comedy. The rest of the cast is strong, especially Lindsey Shaw as Justin's sister Claire and Amy Pietz as his mom Franny. Scott Patterson goes a bit too broad sometimes as the dad.
The actors get to play on efficient scriptwriting, like when Justin's mom cluelessly explained a falling-out with a friend: "Apparently, I said something to offend Audrey and her black husband."
Each week's story is just odd enough not to be sitcom-stupid. Monday, Justin and Raja get roped into doing their school's underground "junior prank," a practical joke that borders on being a felony. Raja is the voice of reason.
"You people are barbarians," he tells the other pranksters, who process this insult with their "Punk'd" minds, and decide it's a such a compliment they high-five each other and scream, "Yeah!"
The writing staff has been, of late, on strike with the rest of the Hollywood pens. But the good news is "Aliens in America" is deep into its 22-episode production schedule. That means while your favorite shows are in reruns because of the strike, "Aliens" will be running new episodes through the winter and maybe early spring.
I hope you give it a chance now and then, even if it is on the CW. As I've written before, whenever someone asks me for TV advice, I mention "Reaper" and "Aliens." They usually have no idea what the CW is. The network really should have retained the moniker the WB, or called itself something memorable, like Angry Bearcats on Fire. Anything would be better than "CW."
Yet, part of the reason "Aliens" is as good, is because it's on the CW, where less-demanding ratings pressures allow offbeat series to exist and develop. If "Aliens" with its viewership numbers were on CBS, it would have been canned 30 minutes after Raja said hello in its fall debut.
When it premiered, it earned more positive reviews than any new show except "Pushing Daisies" and "Reaper," according to Metacritic.com.
I'm not saying we critics are always right. But in this case, you could do much, much worse than to check out a funny little show that's won all of us over, but goes undeservedly unnoticed in living rooms around the country.
delfman@suntimes.com
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
It's a little baffling to see a very good comedy like "Aliens in America" dragging the bottom of the ratings. It's the best TV show you're not watching.
It's funny. It's written, directed and acted compellingly. And "Aliens in America" -- the story of Wisconsin high-schoolers and their family -- can appeal to fans of offbeat comedy without majorly upsetting the "family"-viewing crowd.
The show isn't prudish, yet the most risque thing I've heard on "Aliens" came when high school junior Justin saw cheerleaders frolicking in short skirts.
"It looks like a tampon commercial," Justin said as he eyed them approvingly, then added calmly in voice-over narration: "Just in case you don't know, tampon commercials are awesome."
Justin (Dan Byrd) is a stringbean dork whose hot sister was named by her peers as one of the most do-able girls in school. Justin was also named one of the most doable girls in school. That's how much kids bag on him.
Justin's best friend is Raja (Adhir Kalyan), the Pakistani exchange student his parents took in for the money, though they quickly warmed to his polite manners, smart demeanor and British-y accent.
Last Monday, awkward Justin vomited in Raja's backpack while Raja was wearing it, because it was the only thing nearby to boot into.
"Why?" confident Raja said, sounding as relaxed as a therapist and looking at the vomit with reserved disappointment. "Why in my book bag?"
Little moments like that work because Byrd and Kalyan have phenomenal presence, striking the exact right tone for natural comedy. The rest of the cast is strong, especially Lindsey Shaw as Justin's sister Claire and Amy Pietz as his mom Franny. Scott Patterson goes a bit too broad sometimes as the dad.
The actors get to play on efficient scriptwriting, like when Justin's mom cluelessly explained a falling-out with a friend: "Apparently, I said something to offend Audrey and her black husband."
Each week's story is just odd enough not to be sitcom-stupid. Monday, Justin and Raja get roped into doing their school's underground "junior prank," a practical joke that borders on being a felony. Raja is the voice of reason.
"You people are barbarians," he tells the other pranksters, who process this insult with their "Punk'd" minds, and decide it's a such a compliment they high-five each other and scream, "Yeah!"
The writing staff has been, of late, on strike with the rest of the Hollywood pens. But the good news is "Aliens in America" is deep into its 22-episode production schedule. That means while your favorite shows are in reruns because of the strike, "Aliens" will be running new episodes through the winter and maybe early spring.
I hope you give it a chance now and then, even if it is on the CW. As I've written before, whenever someone asks me for TV advice, I mention "Reaper" and "Aliens." They usually have no idea what the CW is. The network really should have retained the moniker the WB, or called itself something memorable, like Angry Bearcats on Fire. Anything would be better than "CW."
Yet, part of the reason "Aliens" is as good, is because it's on the CW, where less-demanding ratings pressures allow offbeat series to exist and develop. If "Aliens" with its viewership numbers were on CBS, it would have been canned 30 minutes after Raja said hello in its fall debut.
When it premiered, it earned more positive reviews than any new show except "Pushing Daisies" and "Reaper," according to Metacritic.com.
I'm not saying we critics are always right. But in this case, you could do much, much worse than to check out a funny little show that's won all of us over, but goes undeservedly unnoticed in living rooms around the country.
delfman@suntimes.com
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