doug elfman

'Devil May Cry 4' a sword epic of blood, sweat and half-naked women

2008-02-22T07:53:00.000-06:00

Feb. 22, 2008
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

Devil May Cry 4" is a titanic epic that succeeds at being many things. It's an action film, an adventure spanning vast castles and jungles, a literary parable criticizing dangerous religious cultists, and a war of fire, ice and blood.

It's lacking only a better romance, although a few women prance around in barely-there underwear, while straddling bad guys' heads with leg splits.

That reminds me of my Rule of the Lower Half: Games are usually good if they feature scantily clad women who perform cheeky splits. This isn't because I'm a perv. Simply put, game designers who covet naked women try harder.

As the "4" in the title suggests, this is a fantasy sequel in the popular hack-and-slash "Devil May Cry" series. Unlike previous "Devils," this one does not star Dante, the half-human/half-demon mercenary in the long red jacket.

No, this one features blue-coated Nero, who is similarly demonically human in a good way. For a long time, Nero thinks Dante (a side character) is a villain. But then he realizes they must both save the universe from a hellacious cult of magical jerks.

This "Devil" is an artistic beauty, enriched by intricately drawn castle halls, where grated shadows of light fall on cracked rock walls and on gold statues of dog-human demons adorned with breasts.

Tremendous old drawbridges extend out of gray, rocky mountains. Jungles glow green with leaves, grass and hills. These splendid sets are so vast, they dwarf Nero as if he's an ant sprinting across the Sistine Chapel.

The game play is familiar to "Devil May Cry" fans. As Nero (and sometimes as Dante, in a supporting role later), you swing a big sword, shoot a double-barreled revolver and grab-and-toss demons constantly.

The challenge is to fight so well that you acquire stronger bullets and sword oomph, to take down small demons, like the penguin-type creatures swinging their sword-feet at you, and big bosses, such as a bird-man-demon thing.

It's really quite the ambitious marathon, but the ease of conquer is more suited to casual gamers who believe they might be ready for this slightly hard-core game, because I, for one, never feel like I'm in danger. I can play eight hours without dying.

In fact, "Devil" should merit four stars for all its blades of glory, but I'm giving it three and one-half stars because it's a "This again?" experience that recycles those sets, as in, "Didn't I just kill six demons in this same room four times, an hour ago?"

Also, a few gaming traditions irritate. To become more commanding, you collect gems by beating up demons but also by destroying furniture, forest eggs and random melons. Destroy a wooden chest, say, and collect a gem.

There's an art gallery and other cultural spots along your journey, so you even annihilate rows of antique chairs. And these are nice chairs, pretty little things you might see in a museum. They'd fetch big bucks on eBay. Why must chairs die?

("Devil May Cry 4" by Capcom for PS 3, Xbox 360 -- Plays fun, if somewhat repetitive. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "M" for sexual themes, violence, blood, language. Three and one-half stars out of four.)

From 'Pong' to 'Patapon,' games offer something for every taste

2008-02-22T07:52:00.000-06:00

Feb. 15, 2008
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

So there are three basic genres of rock music, right? There's classic (Aerosmith), contemporary (Radiohead) and indie (British Sea Power). In a similar way, video games also break down into classic, contemporary and indie formats.

And you can tell a lot about a gamer if you study which genre he or she goes for.

Someone who plays "Atari Classics (Evolved)" for Sony's hand-held PSP is telling the world she doesn't care as much for fancy new games, with their high-definition graphics of skull-bashing blood lust. Instead, she's drawn to the safety and comfort of old-school blips and bleeps.

"Atari Classics (Evolved)" comes with 11 classic arcade titles, and you can unlock 60 more games designed two decades ago for the old Atari 2600 system.

There's "Asteroids," "Centipede," "Missile Command," "Tempest," "Super Breakout," "Pong" and my favorite, "Battlezone." "Evolved" offers a fine time. But like the best Aerosmith hits, you know this standard by heart.

On the other hand, if you see your best friend playing "Turok," you can imagine this person prefers to sit on the couch and shoot things in the head. In "Turok's" case, you blast little and big dinosaurs on an outer-space island.

"Turok" games have been around for a while and have seen headier days, just like Radiohead has. But like Radiohead, "Turok" is trying new things to please fans: better graphics and a bigger online adventure.

The story line is a contemporary first-person shooter. You run as a soldier on a crazy planet, which resembles scenes from "Jurassic Park" and "King Kong." Your mission is to kill soldier-minions en route to a big bad guy named Kane, who went nuts with power.

"Turok" is basic fun times, if somewhat repetitive. The coolest parts, offline and online, come with killing things with a knife -- grab, then slice a throat (gruesome) -- or creating a diversion so dinosaurs kill minions for you.

You are more likely to see me playing "Patapon" for the PSP, just as you're more likely to see me listening to British Sea Power. Like many indie bands, "Patapon" is pushing creativity into the future, despite being distributed by a major label.

The main characters of "Patapon" (set for release on Feb. 26) are strange little warrior dudes whose torsos are nothing but round, black circles, with one big eyeball in the middle.

You send them walking into dozens of battles against similar-looking dudes, plus dragons and fortresses. As you win each battle with hatchets, arrows, spears and magic, you gain points to grow more warriors out of a tree.

What makes "Patapon" unique and addictive is a lot -- the look, sound and game play. Visuals are vibrant and flat, like paper-cut art or sleek graffiti art.

And to make your little guys march, fight and shield themselves, you press a series of buttons as if you were banging different drumheads, on the beat, in sync with music that's reminiscent of the indie-pop band the Tom Tom Club.

"Patapon" is so fresh to the brain, it takes a few hours to figure out the right moves. It also may pose great challenges to players who can't keep a beat. And like listening to indie-rock, "Patapon's" music can sometimes grate on your nerves, but you're rewarded with the feeling that time keeps on slipping into the future.

("Atari Classics (Evolved)" retails for $20 for PSP -- Plays fun but very familiar. Looks OK. Easy to challenging. Rated "E" for mild violence, simulated gambling. Three stars out of four.)

("Turok" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 and PS 3 -- Plays fun, though somewhat repetitive. Looks good. Moderately challenging. Rated "T" for blood, gore, intense violence, language. Three stars.)

("Patapon" retails for $20 for PSP upon Feb. 26 release -- Plays addictively fun. Looks cool. Begins easy, becomes challenging. Rated "E." Four stars.)

We are so thin

2008-02-10T13:58:00.000-06:00

Stephanie and I at The Venetian.

Now blogging on the go!

2008-02-10T13:43:00.001-06:00

Someone is now blogging from his phone. Guess who?

Addictive 'Burnout,' 'Wipeout' as fun as racing games get

2008-02-08T17:53:00.000-06:00

Feb. 08, 2008

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

Video games are spoiling me to death. The "Burnout" racing series already was fun enough, but the newest, "Burnout Paradise," is bigger, cooler and gives me something I didn't even know I wanted from it -- freedom.

Freedom, as in: I get to drive any of 75 cars around a huge inner city the size of Manhattan and Chicago combined. It might even be bigger than that. I can drive wherever I want -- an observatory, a Wrigley Field-esque infield -- wherever.

In previous "Burnouts," you could race only along specific tracks. After you finished one track, the game would force you to take on another track. This wasn't a problem, since "Burnout 3: Takedown," especially, was a masterpiece.

But now, game developers understand that gamers want the freedom of such "open worlds," established by the "Grand Theft Auto" series, where you can travel roads, jump off of ramps, or accept goal-oriented missions whenever you want.

That's what "Burnout Paradise" offers, minus the guns and blood and cinematic scenes of "Grand Theft Auto."

The racing events are awesome: A) compete against seven racers on loads of roads; B) cause a number of rivals to crash their cars in a given amount of time; C) race alone against a clock; D) pull off stunts, like crashing through billboards.

The steering controls are the best in the business. And detailed cityscapes look lifelike as you speed past them at more than 100 mph.

The game's artificial intelligence is great. It recognizes if you're a terrible gamer and slows down other cars so you can catch up. It also sees if you're a fantastic driver, then speeds up rivals to make races competitive.

In other games, that form of artificial intelligence seems like computer cheating. What's different here? AI is just tuned up better, perfectly balanced so great gamers don't get overly penalized for being great, and new gamers don't get overly helped.

Online, things are harder. Instead of being able to drive any of those 75 cars the moment you enter multiplayer, you get access only to cars you've won offline. So, you have to win offline to win online.

The one missing ingredient from previous "Burnout" sessions is there are no levels where you pull off explosive stunts at intersections.

You may have noticed I've been reviewing a collection of car games, lately. That's because it's racing season, for some reason. In fact, "Wipeout Pulse," a fun PSP sequel in the excellent "Wipeout" oeuvre, comes out Tuesday.

"Pulse" looks like every other "Wipeout" ever. You race sleek spaceship cars along tubelike tracks in the future. You try to drive over markers on the road; those load weapons onto your ship. You shoot rivals in front of you. Boom, you win.

Coincidentally, "Wipeout Pulse" and "Burnout Paradise" are my two favorite racing games of the past year. I cruise "Paradise" on my couch. Then I "Wipeout" on the PSP in bed. They're both more enticing than a good night's sleep.

("Burnout Paradise" retails for $60 for PS 3 and Xbox 360 -- Plays as fun as racing gets. Looks amazing. Easy at first, then challenging, and oddly challenging online. Rated "E 10+" for violence, language. Four stars out of four.)

("Wipeout Pulse" retails for $30 for PSP -- Plays addictively fun. Looks great. Moderately challenging. Rated "E 10+" for fantasy violence. Four stars.)

Easy simulator games offer calm relief for those who take the bait

2008-02-08T17:50:00.000-06:00

Feb. 01, 2008
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

If you're feeling emotionally tender lately -- worrying about the recession, or politics, or the sad demise of a celebrity -- "Endless Ocean" is like a chill pill to put your mind in meditation mode.

It's the niche-iest of video games. Actually, it's not a "game" so much as it is a simulation of scuba diving in blue, tropical waters. All you do is swim, look at fish, pet fish, feed fish, and befriend dolphins and penguins.

When you pet fish, you reach out and rub their little bodies. You know they enjoy this, because magical little sparkly lights float around their contented heads.

You have a job to carry out, but only tangentially. The whole reason you're able to afford this life of lackadaisical lounge-about-ery is some charitable foundation is paying lucky you.

Your mentor is the marine biologist, Kat, a "fish whisperer" who hangs out on your boat and appreciates this career outside of the nontraditional economic structure.

"I think I'd go crazy if I had to work in an office," Kat exhales.

If there's a goal, it's simply to move your boat around to lagoons and deeper waters and conduct topographical inspections on behalf of the charitable organization.

You also pick up odd jobs serving as an underwater guide to men and women who need a scuba escort. You point out fish, and the clients tell you how awesome you are. Easy-peasy.

One client, a female model, basically asks you to point out only the small fish kicking about under the sea.

"It's cute, because it's tiny," she beams.

If you're feeling super idle, you can just sit in a beach chair on the deck of the boat and watch the calm waters, the green islands and the blue skies bobbing in front of your lazy eyes.

"Endless Ocean" clearly isn't for everyone. It was released in Japan last year to mild acclaim, and it is now picking up good reviews in America. Even so, I don't blame a few critics who think it's boring.

I would probably think it's dull, too, if I were in the mood only for action-adventure. But I found this Wii game at a tender moment. I just wanted calm, peace and no scary music soundtracks.

I had less luck finding tranquility playing "Fish Tycoon," a creative but more intensive game that puts you in the role of fish store merchant.

In "Tycoon," you feed and breed fish in store tanks, and treat them with medicine when their scales get yucky. If you dig puppy simulation "games," you might like "Tycoon," since the mechanics are similar.

But stocking aquariums with sunken ship ornaments and growth hormones doesn't do it for me. Neither does watching my pink spotanus croak, because I'm a bad fish grower. What a bummer.

So it's "Endless Ocean" for me, with its emperor angelfish, bicolor parrot fish, pyramid butterflyfish, endangered humphead wrasse, and on and on. Plus, I can hang out with the African penguin wobbling around on my boat. It's cute, because it's tiny.

("Endless Ocean" retails for $30 for Wii -- Plays calming. Looks very good. Easy. Rated "E." Three stars out of four.)

("Fish Tycoon" retails for $20 for DS -- Plays fine for a pet simulator. Looks fine. Easy. Rated "E." Two stars.)

Not another 'Sex' copycat

2008-02-08T17:49:00.000-06:00

Bold 'lipstick'
February 7, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

'Sex and the City" ripoffs have suffered from being too cartoonish ("Cashmere Mafia"), too sexually silly ("Emily's Reasons Why Not") or too stereotypical of females ("Related"). NBC's new "Lipstick Jungle" sidesteps these problems by being created by Candace Bushnell.

Bushnell wrote the newspaper columns that led to the books Sex and the City and Lipstick Jungle, so there's the answer to "How do you make a 'Sex and the City'-styled show?": Go to the source.

"Jungle" follows the love lives and careers of three powerful friends. There's a movie exec (Brooke Shields), a magazine chief (Kim Raver) and a fashion designer (Lindsay Price).

Because TV has ruined you to expect the worst from such comically dramatic series, when you dive into "Lipstick," you anticipate each woman will say girly things, obsess over a new man and struggle for career respect.

Sure, there's a bit of that. But as "Lipstick" unfolds, strange things happen -- like, the men aren't all pigs. And the women aren't all clumsy or socially awkward at inopportune moments.

They weep at times, but are otherwise unbreakable and smart enough to A) not wait for a man to save them, and B) work on their marriages valiantly, except for the one who at least begins to cheat on her man.

In an extraordinary turn of events, one wife and husband actually engage in a long, serious discussion about how her career has interfered with his. At the end of the scene, you ought to root for the couple, not for one of the spouses. They're both right, and they're both wrong. That's how good and human (certainly for broadcast TV) these characters feel.

It's not perfect. A few situations and lines are hyped-up "Sex and the City" moments, like when a distraught Lipsticker complains, "I need a cupcake."

But if you can moan your way through such moments, the show gets more serious as it goes. For setting the tone, Shields and Bushnell credit initial director Timothy ("thirtysomething") Busfield and producer Oliver ("Ugly Betty") Goldstick.

"The first discussion we ever had," Shields tells reporters, "was none of us want it to be cartoonish."

She says male characters had to be three-dimensional and sympathetic, not cardboard villains.

"We love them" -- men, she says. "We celebrate them. We need them. We realize who we are with and without them. And we don't have to negate them to augment our own selves."

Relationships in "Lipstick" are troubled in believable ways. It looks as if Shields' character, and her husband, will try to find ways to make their marriage work again, rather than divorce as originally planned.

"What's become more interesting for us is not just the finality of divorce but the complexity of staying in something that is hard," Shields says.

"It's not as simple as divorce, or cheating, or anything. It's really just about, 'Wow, how do we remember what we love about the other, celebrate the other one, be good parents, and be able to be selfish?' "

Shields relates to her character's stressful high life, especially since she relocated her family to New York for the show.

"I do have a family, and I do have a husband, and I do have a career," she says. "Not at one time do I feel that I'm 100 percent in any one. And I'm always bouncing back thinking that I'm not enough in any one area. ... And that means that every day, it's a navigation."

In turn, the scenes where characters do their daily navigation are the most realistic and best parts of just-barely-good-enough "Lipstick." If the series focuses on daily struggles, rather than outlandish female fantasies, it could be a really worthy watch after "Sex."

delfman@suntimes.com

It's odd when God appears to speak through a pop star

2008-02-08T17:48:00.000-06:00

January 31, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

ABC's new "Eli Stone" is another TV show like "Joan of Arcadia" or "Touched by an Angel" where someone is a conduit for God but doesn't know what God wants done. God only supplies hints, such as posing a vision of a dying man in front of Eli, who then cluelessly wonders how to proceed.

As a viewer, I think: Once upon a time, Gods of TV and movies minced no words. The Almighty told Charlton Heston, "Thou shalt not kill." George Burns informed John Denver that human existence means only what people think it means, "and what I think doesn't count at all."

So I empathize with Eli (played by Johnny Lee Miller, ex-husband of Angelina Jolie) in an upcoming episode when he grouses, "God needs to be a little less oblique." In the same way, I felt sorry for the guy in NBC's canceled "Journeyman" who kept getting time-warped to fix problems, without being told what to repair or why.

What I'm saying is this fictional God that's all the rage in TV shows is really playing it close to the vest, even among his disciples.

Or, rather, his prophets, which is what Eli thinks he is, because he keeps having visual and auditory hallucinations that George Michael is singing "Faith" right in front of him, even though no one else sees or hears George Michael.

At first, Eli thinks he's just going crazy. But Eli confesses his hallucinations to his acupuncturist, who convinces Eli he's a prophet, especially since Eli's visions keep coming true.

The tone of this odd show (created by Greg Berlanti and Marc Guggenheim, and initially directed by Ken Olin) is both sweet and wacky, as if it were made by David E. Kelley, he of "Ally McBeal." But it's missing something.

The problem is "Eli" is semicartoonish in an ABC way, and there's no true character development. You get a good idea of who Eli, and particularly the people around him, are externally, but not internally.

You can buy into the somewhat interesting story, but the tale of a gruff lawyer who represents rich, mean corporations, and who believes he's one of God's vessels, isn't enough in this instance.

The two hooks are unusual -- a prophet on a TV show featuring musical interludes. But the underlying premises are common: Lawyers are mean; one of them is a Scrooge coming to his senses, and court cases can be launching pads for lawsuits of ideas.

Yes, this isn't just a God show. It's also a courtroom show. In tonight's first episode, Eli struggles with taking a client suing a drug company, claiming a preservative in its vaccine made her son autistic.

There's been some outcry from pediatrician groups about that story line. They worry it will scare parents away from getting their kids immunized. But this plot is played like fiction, though emotionally, and can't be taken seriously.
One-time appearance

George Michael fans will be thrilled to see the bearded man performing in hallucinations, although after tonight's show Eli doesn't see Michael but hears songs by him and other singers.

Viewers drawn to sexualized characters should appreciate that Eli and his fiancee (Natasha Henstridge) are always doing it.

So there you have it. "Eli Stone" is a new "dramedy" with occasional musical numbers, chronicling a prophet who gets it on to the gospel of George Michael singing "Faith" and "Freedom," while viewers may be reminded of the oddity that was "Ally McBeal."

And Victor Garber, who played the dad on "Alias," belts out a George Michael hit in an upcoming song-and-dance number. Oh, God.

delfman@suntimes.com

TV review | Laurie must choose between returning to England and staying on series

2008-02-08T17:46:00.000-06:00

January 29, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

For the past few years, Hugh Laurie has mused to me and other critics that he envisions the day, possibly soon, when he'll quit "House," leaving the show in the hands of people who aren't Hugh Laurie.

"House" without Hugh Laurie would be an empty nest. But Laurie gets exhausted in L.A. and misses his family in England. For now, the show is a go, although the writers strike has sent him back home for a well-deserved winter break.

It stinks that the studios aren't resolving the strike, though, as the comically grumpy drama (resuming tonight) has been delivering its most creatively successful season.

It's been funnier than usual and snarkier than almost every show geared toward kids (and thus a ratings hit among young viewers). It feels fresh partly because House (Laurie) spent the end of 2007 playing mind games with potential new assistants. (The moral finger-wagging by the old assistants was getting old.)

Tonight, those new House handymen -- Taub (Peter Jacobson), Kutner (Kal Penn) and Thirteen (Olivia Wilde) -- try to prove they're worthy full-timers, while dealing with a patient (Janel Moloney) who suddenly feels no sensations in her hands. Or is she lying about her condition?

The next three episodes should have run already, but they're airing tonight, Sunday after the Super Bowl and Feb. 5. Fox held onto these three after the writers strike began, so the network would have a few "Houses" to build around Super Bowl week.

That's why tonight's installment, "It's a Wonderful Lie," has House playing Secret Santa.

So why has this season been so fun? Maybe because "House" is experiencing a Fourth Season Flourish, as so many classic shows have, from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" to "Roseanne," "Seinfeld," "The X-Files" and on and on.

This phenomenon happens, I think, because these are/were shows run by smarty-pants who became more demanding and confident of themselves (not less) as success rolled in.

Laurie, too, has dedicated his life to "House" to the point that it seems to be taking a toll. Actors on set say he encourages everyone to reshoot scenes whenever they want, even though that means Laurie works 16 hours a day, day after day, months on end.

As for the three old assistants, Omar Epps returns as Foreman. But Arlington Heights native Jennifer Morrison and her ex-fiancee in real life, Jesse Spencer, have been relegated to but a few scenes all season. They certainly haven't been appearing in scenes together much.

If the show has made a mistake, it was in not keeping Anne Dudek, who played Amber, the job candidate House called "Manipulative Bitch."

Dudek -- she also plays knocked-up neighbor Francine on "Mad Men" -- was the most charming new development this season. By "charming," I mean "manipulative bitch" charming, like House.

House supposedly fired her for being too wrapped up in ego, rather than recognizing her failures en route to correct diagnoses.

Who knows why Dudek didn't make the cast. But I believe the real reason the doctor fired Manipulative Bitch was because she's a strong woman, and jerky like himself.

In other words, we could have ended up with two Houses in "House," but now at least we have one, and if Laurie leaves, zero. What a grim prognosis that'd be.

delfman@suntimes.com

Iraq may seem foreign, but stories in 'Baghdad Hospital' are human

2008-02-08T17:45:00.000-06:00

January 29, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Some scenes of war are unsurprising but gripping nonetheless. In the new HBO documentary "Baghdad Hospital: Inside the Red Zone," there is the woman, injured during a bombing at sunset prayer. She left her home to buy bread.

"Suddenly I found myself surrounded by flames" and corpses, she says in a hospital bed, blood dried to gashes in her cheeks, a tube running from her nose. "I ran away, but my side was hurting ... and there was a hole

Her doctor checks her vitals and moves onto a 7-year-old boy who was injured while playing with friends; they died in front of him.

These casualties of war were filmed by Dr. Omer Salih Mahdi, during moments when he wasn't operating or dodging death.

I understand some TV viewers might think Iraq seems foreign and abstract. But the stories and emotions of "Baghdad Hospital" are not foreign at all. They're as human as all of us.

What you take are long glances at regular people (regular Iraqi people) talking to each other about what's happening in their lives, which happens to be death and chaos.

There is yet another little boy in a hospital bed who was playing in street when his father and brother were blown up. The boy himself was hit by shrapnel. After he was rushed to the hospital, with no anesthesia for miles, E.R. workers held down his arms. Doctors poked holes in his chest to drain blood.

He screamed. But he lives, at least for now. He is 6 years old.

What's surprising is seeing, from time to time, some adults in the hospital smiling. One laughs while someone claims to read palms. Another laughs about narrowly escaping death at the hands of torturous extremists who beat him anyway.

It's almost as if they're smiling because they're not dead yet, as if they're taking this opportunity to grin because this could be the last time someone, somewhere, will have the chance to see them smile.

And then it's back to work, although not for the narrator-filmmaker. In the midst of losing his uncle, father, cousins and 17 friends, Dr. Mahdi had yet another choice to make. A bomb-injured pregnant woman entered the E.R. He could save her or her baby, an impossible choice.

"That was just one incident that made me question whether I could continue in this job," Dr. Mahdi says in narration.

Last year, after filming "Baghdad Hospital," he moved to Indiana. He's studying journalism at Ball State with a Fulbright scholarship. Matters of life and death are now in other people's hands.

delfman@suntimes.com

HBO's addictive 'In Treatment' stars a shrink you can believe in

2008-01-28T06:37:00.000-06:00

January 27, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Bob Newhart played a pretty bad shrink. And Lorraine Bracco's Dr. Melfi wasn't so helpful with Tony Soprano. But in HBO's new "In Treatment," Gabriel Byrne creates the juiciest, most realistic TV therapist since Judd Hirsch's confrontational counselor in "Ordinary People."

"In Treatment" is a rare species. It's a half-hour serial -- not a soap, but a bona fide drama -- running in prime time. Each weeknight starting this week, you see Paul Weston (Byrne) talking to a different patient.

Every Monday, Paul gives a half-hour session to Laura (Melissa George), a twentysomething struggling with both a rocky relationship and unhelpful fantasies.

Every Tuesday, Paul questions Alex (Blair Underwood), a rigid and demanding bomber pilot who claims he sleeps very well at night. (Well, then, why has he chosen to undergo shrinkage?)

Each half-hour plays out like a great album, book or video game. At first, you think, "It's taking its time, but this is pretty good." Some minutes roll along, and you begin to realize you're experiencing something special. By the end, you can't wait for more.

Comically, HBO has been trying to replace the buzz of "The Sopranos" with a fair show about naked couples ("Tell Me You Love Me") and a terrible drama about a dumb weirdo ("John From Cincinnati").

But "In Treatment" is the winner, at last. It's the best new show on HBO this decade, since "Curb Your Enthusiasm" started.

What's so great? First of all, patients are not archetypes or stereotypes. They're fully fleshed-out people. If you've ever made progress in therapy, you will recognize their problems: fear-based negative emotions, denial, an inability to truly face issues at hand, living in fantasy rather than in reality, and so on.

If you've never been to therapy: A) It looks like this; and B) You are missing out on the most rewarding experience of your life.

Most important, dramatically, Paul is a very believable cognitive behavioral therapist. He asks the right questions. He explores the right conversation paths. He responds correctly to blowback from patients, mostly.

Yet, Paul himself sees a therapist every Friday: his old mentor Gina (Dianne Wiest). Paul remains very professional and "on" during sessions with his patients, though once he sits with Gina, you hear what he thinks about their effects on him.

"All the time I listen as if it's nothing, but inside, it's just, I find it so, so disgusting," Paul says of a certain someone.

Sessions between Paul and Gina are exquisite. Here they are, two therapists with somewhat different approaches, trying to corner each other like royals on a chessboard. Gina does want to help Paul. But she's rusty and overly familiar with him, so she lets some personal stuff ooze.

There is another rare thing. Almost never do you see a scene outside of therapy. That means you're watching two actors dig into their characters and conversations for a half-hour, an approach you've seen only in such films as "Sleuth" and "My Dinner With Andre."

Credit the writers, actors and directors for avoiding making "In Treatment" seem like a stage-y play. Instead, they propel the material into shockingly addictive TV.

The only obstacle is for the show, and critics like me, to convince you to sit and pay attention to something we're all unfamiliar with lately: a deliberate, steady piece of entertainment/art that lacks quick edits, special effects, a music score, a soundtrack and fake characters.

Sure, in the wrong creative hands, a show set only in a therapist's office could be a bummer. But "In Treatment" is exhilarating. If the pacing is slow, it is slow like a power kiss. It's gonna be deep. It's gonna be messy. And you're gonna like it.

delfman@suntimes.com

Chicago chiropractor hopes Ebert's fighting spirit rubs off on him for 'Gladiators'

2008-01-25T08:23:00.000-06:00

January 25, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

One of the next competitors on NBC's "American Gladiators" will be a Chicago chiropractor who's been helping Roger Ebert recuperate with physical training.

"He's in great shape," Dr. Mark Baker says of the Sun-Times film critic, who has had several recent cancer surgeries. "He's a fighter. When we work out in our sessions, I have to stop him sometimes and say, 'OK, we've had enough.' "

On Monday night's show, Baker dodges fire and battles gladiators with big Nerf weapons. For Baker -- a fan of the original "Gladiators" -- it was a dream come true to don the throwback tights.

"I really thought they were gonna catch up to the times, but they went back to the Spandex. And this is super tight Spandex," Baker says. "So you can see everything, and you're feeling like you're totally compressed."

I make a joke to Baker, 35, that most men would want to wear a sock inside the shorts as, um, stuffing.

"Especially once you hit that cold water," he says. "That's exactly what you're thinking: 'S---, I forgot my sock. Oh, what are they gonna say back at home?' "

Baker's wife, Mary Ann, is keeping his ego grounded.

"She used to do the dishes, and now I'm doing them," he says and laughs. "I came home and said, 'I'm a superstar now! How does it feel to be with a superstar?' And definitely, right then is when it stopped, and I started doing the dishes."

This isn't Baker's first splash in TV. After grad school, the Hammond native flew to Ireland to practice his profession and was discovered on a street by TV producers. They signed him up to briefly co-star in a "Big Brother"-ish show in Spain. He didn't do anything to embarrass himself on "The Villa," which is now playing on Fox Reality.

"Some girl was trying to sneak into my bed, and I'm kicking her out. I wanted to make for good TV for Mom to watch."

Baker moved to Chicago a few years ago and now runs his own place, Elite Health Care. A year and a half ago, he started labor-intensive recovery with Ebert.

"Roger was in a wheelchair when I first met him," Baker says. "We've got him almost running on a treadmill now.

"He's great. One of the first times that I met him, I asked him if he was capable of doing something. And he wrote back, 'You're the boss. Whatever you think I can do.' "

It was September when Baker tried out for "Gladiators" at the Windy City Fieldhouse, where other men chickened out once they heard they would have to do 20 or 30 pullups. Baker did 27.

A few months later, he was flown to L.A., where the retro show set gave him '80s flashbacks: "I was thinking Frankie Goes to Hollywood would come on."

There was a time when Baker ran for the Army's marathon team. But performing bizarro stunts on TV is way different, with all the cameras and "someone famous like Hulk Hogan or Laila Ali barking at you."

His main goal was not to look like a fool.

"It doesn't matter if you win or lose as long as you aren't in a highlight video 10 years down the road, where you're the 'agony of defeat' -- if you get smashed just right and you're the only guy to go unconscious."

Lukewarm sports games fail to hit it out of the park

2008-01-25T08:22:00.000-06:00

Jan. 25, 2008

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

My cat died. And most of my friends just got the news they'll be laid off from work this week. So bear with me while I get grumpy about a slate of adequate sports games that fail to distract my mourning heart.

I don't understand the appeal of "NCAA March Madness '08." I don't know why sports fans want to play as measly college basketball kids when they could instead be playing as big, powerful pros.

The forwards are so small, I think I could beat them up, or at least scare them with mean words. Worse, everyone dribbles and maneuvers slower than in pro games. I want athletes to move fast, like they're on fire. These guys are lukewarm, like the water Jazzmine used to drink. Oh, Jazzmine.

Fortunately, this annual collegiate outing from EA Sports comes with all the teams from the main university systems. If you're itching to see an exact duplicate of the Thomas & Mack Center, you're in luck.

"Madness" also improves on ball handling and shooting ease, compared to previous EA college games.

Meanwhile, 2K Sports' "College Hoops NCAA 2K8" makes it harder to drive the paint. I get sick of taking shots from the perimeter.

On the other hand, "Hoops" comes with reams of college teams, and it's smoother and sweeter than "Madness."

If you want fun, there's more of that inside "FIFA Soccer '08." "FIFA" gets better every year, and this go-round improves on its tremendous feel of play, set in gorgeously drawn soccer stadiums.

The ball handling is an itsy-bitsy bit better than ever. Full disclosure: I still stink at soccer games. The genre hits my blind spot, maybe because when I was a kid, I quit soccer after five minutes. I am not a fan of getting kicked in the shin.

Since none of these games could get my mind off Jazzmine, I thought, "Oh, maybe it would be nice to play a Wii game where I get to swing the Wii wand. Get some aggression out."

But "MLB Power Pros" doesn't let me swing the wand. I have to press buttons on the hand controller, as if I were playing it on the ancient PS 2. What a waste of Wii potential.

This isn't to say "Power Pros" is bad. You might like it, if you're looking for a cute game where all the players from real life are represented by Lego-like creatures, complete with real players' attributes, minus growth hormones.

Most impressive, your favorite pitchers wind up just like the real thing, even though they're wobbly like Weebles. And if your favorite real-life batter has a furry bearded face, he does here, too.

"Power Pros" is sort of difficult. So be careful, casual gamers. This one's not for you. It's for your boyfriend who memorizes every statistic of every player on his fantasy baseball team.

And there you go. I'm sad. These aren't diversions for me. But all these games have moments of greatness for gamers who dig toy baseball players, young college basketball players and soccer.

Excuse me now while I go shoot Nazis in the head in "Call of Duty 4."

("NCAA March Madness '08" retails for $50 for Xbox 360 and PS 3, $30 for PS 2 -- Plays fun enough. Looks very good. Moderately challenging. Rated "E." Three stars.)

("College Hoops NCAA 2K8" retails for $50 for Xbox 360 and PS 3, $30 for PS 2 -- Plays fun enough. Looks very good. Moderately challenging. Rated "E." Three stars out of four.)

("FIFA Soccer '08" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 and PS 3; $50 for Wii, $40 for PS 2, PSP, $30 for DS -- Plays fun. Looks great. Challenging. Rated "E." Three and one-half stars.)

("MLB Power Pros" retails for $40 for Wii, $30 for PS 2 -- Plays fun enough, despite the lack of Wii wand interactivity. Looks good. Challenging. Rated "E." Three stars.)

'Truth' or dare? Players land on hot seat

2008-01-23T08:42:00.001-06:00

January 23, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

In Colombia last year, contestants on a game show answered personal questions while hooked up to a lie detector. One was asked if she had ever put a hit on her husband. Amazingly, she said yes. She won a jackpot of riches. Then the show was canceled due to bad taste.

Tonight, Fox imports that show and calls it "The Moment of Truth." If a contestant gives honest answers to 21 questions in a row, she pockets a half-million bucks.

Questions on the hot seat:

• Have you ever thought your boyfriend is gay?
• Have you ever touched a co-worker inappropriately in your current job?
• Is there a part of your husband's body that repulses you?

This is the most nutso idea for a game show in a while. Will it be fun TV? Don't ask me. Fox didn't provide any episodes for critics for review. That's not a good sign.

Also, polygraphs are infamously imperfect.

The creators of the show answered reporters' questions last week, and the most oddball admission came from executive producer Howard Schultz. He exclaimed publicly that his wife may not be the best lover.

You see, Schultz and his wife were sitting in the control room during a taping of "The Moment of Truth" when onstage the question was asked: "Is your spouse the best lover you ever had?"

"I suddenly turned to her," Schultz says, "I went, 'Well, are you? Are we? Am I?'

"I don't ever think she did answer the question. I told her I love making love to my wife. There's that one person that I dated a long time ago, before her, that is that golden box moment that I wrestle with."

Yikes.

Attention, husbands and wives: That's the kind of awkward nightmare you could face if you watch "The Moment of Truth."

Contestants have already felt repercussions, Schultz says. A 21-year-old emergency medical tech confessed he had not been faithful to his girlfriend. She dumped him.

You have to wonder what kind of people go on a show to be quizzed, "Do you think you'll still be married to your husband in five years?"

"There's a certain amount of narcissism," says Schultz, who produced the plastic-surgery version of "Extreme Makeover."

At least one boundary exists: No questions pertain to "minor children where a minor can be affected in any way," Schultz says.

And he swears he's not trying to break families apart.

"I'm not here to destroy people. That's not the goal," Schultz says.

Well, it wasn't the goal of the Columbian version of "The Moment of Truth" to confront an attempted killer, but that happened, too.

delfman@suntimes.com

'Matchmaker' puts 'reality' at new low

2008-01-22T11:17:00.000-06:00

January 22, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
Bravo's new "Millionaire Matchmaker" sets up dates between a sex-toy king and a roomful of ding-a-lings. The caliber of female in this reality show reminds me of something that Dorothy Parker once said: "You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think."

Tonight's debut co-stars a guy nicknamed "Sex Toy Dave," because that's where he made his bank. He claims that he wants to settle down, but he won't stop partying with girls who ride his stripper pole next to his "penis cactus" in the living room of his mansion.

Even crazier? The different men in each episode -- as well as their potential sugar babes -- can't have sex until they enter a committed relationship. That's like buying suspicious milk without smelling it.

There's a lot of interesting train wreckage to be viewed in "Millionaire Matchmaker." But Patti Stanger is the big-mouth reason to watch. She founded L.A.'s Millionaire's Club, the focus of this show. And she cannot stop uttering things that make her seem abrasive, thoughtful, funny, shallow and utterly moronic.

If they make a movie about her, I suggest that grating comedian Gilbert Gottfried play her. Isn't that what every woman wants to hear?

For instance, Stanger is great at telling "Sex Toy Dave" his expectations are dumb, since he wants Mrs. Right to fit into his party mansion lifestyle.

But then, Stanger invites into the Millionaire's Club an aspiring model-actress who lives off daddy's money, and a personal trainer who brags, "I've always thought of myself as an heiress-type person." Tee-hee.

Most disturbing, Stanger advises a woman not to introduce herself as a doctor when she greets a man. Why not?

"If you lead with your business foot, then the man's ding-dong down there goes down. He doesn't want to compete in the bedroom," Stanger says. Ick.

So as fascinating as this show is, it's hard to take seriously (as if that's a prerequisite for reality shows), because it seems to operate on the theory of a Chris Rock joke that went:

"You got to lie to get somebody. You can't get nobody looking like you look, acting like you act, sounding like you sound. When you meet somebody for the first time, you're not meeting them. You're meeting their representative."

Would Rep. Gold Digger please step forward? Your fakey presence is requested for a possible marriage to a fakey rich goober with no personality.

delfman@suntimes.com

What makes 'Real Sports' special? Host says it's because it doesn't have to grovel

2008-01-21T18:15:00.000-06:00

January 20, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

You can count the number of great TV news shows on one hand. There's "Frontline," "60 Minutes," "Bill Moyers Journal" and "Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel," and what else?

"Real Sports" -- starting its 13th season at 9 p.m. Tuesday on HBO -- is so good it compels me to watch, and I don't even like sports anymore.

When viewers chat about the show, they often bring up the same fascinating features and investigations from the past few years.

Like the in-depth study of how athletic kids are hampered by asthma, caused by coal-burning plants that would not update their pollution controls.

Or the undercover story exposing how children younger than 5 were enslaved, then turned into camel jockeys in the United Arab Emirates.

Every episode has a gem or two. Credit goes to hard-nosed producers and correspondents, from the master, Frank DeFord, to Mary Carillo and Jon Frankel, and of course Gumbel.

One overriding thing allows all that talent to shine: At "Real Sports," there are no sacred cows.

As Gumbel puts it, being on HBO means "Real Sports" doesn't grovel for ratings, or bow to sponsors, or fear losing tie-ins with sports leagues.

"If we speak ill of baseball, we don't have to worry they'll call up and cancel their contract," Gumbel says.

"We're pretty much free to pursue a story wherever it may lead. And the networks are not free to do that," he says. "If Budweiser is paying the tab for the show, it's hard to say, 'Part of the problem with drinking in the NFL is Budweiser has sponsorship with 30 of the 32 teams.' They take a dim view of that."

In fact, for an upcoming segment, Gumbel examines alcohol abuse in the stands and in stadium parking lots.

"I think that impacts you whether you are a fan who goes every now and then to a tailgate, or you're somebody who's out on the road after a game lets out, and these people have been drinking. As we show it, it has an effect on all three of you -- a frightening effect."

Personally, I wish Gumbel and HBO would create a second in-depth news show, nailing Washington, D.C. If producers and correspondents hounded politicians the way they stalk alleged horse-dopers, America could be better off for it.

I tell Gumbel this, and he complains that TV news dumps hard-hitting stories for pop culture items. By contrast, he recalls the words of an old journalism friend who claimed great journalists should be unpopular with 99 percent of the people.

"Because you're truthful, and because you are honest, X amount of people at all times should dislike you," Gumbel says. "But that seems to have gone by the wayside in television. Television now seems to be about making sure 100 percent of the people really like you."

TV reporters and producers also succumb to pressure from sources -- both in politics and in sports.

"If you say something untoward, or something they don't like, they cut off access. And once your access is gone, it's really tough to put a show together," he says of politics. Sports leagues play that game, too, if they feel "Real Sports" has "burned" them in the past.

"For example, if we want to do a story on the manner in which Jim Dolan has destroyed the Knicks, if Jim Dolan won't talk, and Isiah Thomas won't talk, and the NBA won't give us footage, it's pretty hard to do that story in effective fashion."

"You can do a hearsay [piece]. You can collect a lot of critics. But unless you talk to the principals, I'm not sure you carry a lot of weight. That's just a far-flung example, and maybe that's an overstatement, but that's kind of what we're talking about."

I contend too many political reporters bend over backward to retain access, only to end up with stories that are bull.

"Absolutely true. Absolutely true," the former "Today" anchor says. "It sickens me. The few times I do watch morning television, these people come on there and they say whatever they want. They're pretty much unchallenged. That doesn't apply across the board. But it applies more often than not. And it's pretty disgusting."

Also disgusting: many athletes. That's my take, anyway. I've interviewed lots of celebs and politicians, but athletes are often the biggest jerks around, I tell Gumbel.

"You're not far off," Gumbel says. "My wife and I have this discussion all the time. I tell her athletes are the male equivalent to models. That is, athletes and models catch on early in life that if they do one thing exceptionally well, they don't need to be nice, fair or smart. That doesn't apply to all of them obviously. But ... it fits a lot of them."

delfman@suntimes.com

Things go from 'Mad' to semi-'Bad'

2008-01-21T18:14:00.000-06:00

January 19, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Let's say you've just turned 50 and a doctor gives you a few years to live with inoperable lung cancer. What do you do next?

Well, obviously, if you're a high school chemistry teacher, you start cooking crystal meth in partnership with the rotten kid you flunked the other day.

That's the life choice Walter makes, because Walter (Bryan Cranston, the dad from "Malcolm in the Middle") has a sucky life, suffers a terrible mustache and yucky eyeglasses, and can barely, uh, get strong like a bull for his pregnant wife when she wants to, uh, hand it to him.

This is AMC's new drama, following on the heels of its first big series, the great Golden Globe winner "Mad Men." This is no "Mad Men," though it's a respectable, semifailed attempt.

"Breaking Bad" is grim and not very entertaining or thought-provoking. It's billed as a dark comedy, but where's the comedy? Here's a middle-age loser (despite having once earned a Nobel Prize) who coughs all the time and trades in a quiet life of desperation for an anxious new future as a drug chef.

I'm not sure exactly why TV is in love with chronicling/glorifying/demystifying criminals. But TV is. This is a step up in the nasty drug genre, compared to Showtime's "Weeds," which is better, even though "Breaking Bad" has a craftier creator in Vince Gilligan, who wrote a ton of excellent "X-Files" episodes.

"Breaking" could be a good study of acting, since Cranston and Aaron Paul (as his partner, Jesse) get under the grimy skin of their characters. But there's not enough of the good stuff, like writing, directing, mood, cinematography -- you get the point.

And remember. Don't do drugs, kids. Sex is way better.

delfman@suntimes.com

Put the pedal to the metal with these racing games

2008-01-18T14:20:00.000-06:00

Jan. 18, 2008

By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

A major appeal of extreme sports games is they're not the same-old, same-old. That's why an off-road racer like "MX vs. ATV: Untamed" seems more exciting than a traditional driving experience, such as "Indianapolis 500 Legends."

Both games are good. "Legends" looks and feels like so many NASCAR laps, though more charming. But "Untamed" is bigger, badder and brazen -- even though it must look familiar to fans of the "MX" series.

You don't have to be a dusty, real-life biker to get drawn into "Untamed." You just need a desire to drive fast on buckled dirt roads and to jump motocross bikes and all-terrain vehicles over huge mounds.

"Untamed" revs up fun racing as a solo mission and online. But since I'm a dork, my favorite part is stringing together ridiculous poses midair, like tossing my feet off of an ATV's backside while landing from a jump.

The game lets you feel like you're driving two distinctly separate vehicles. The bikes roll like bikes. The ATVs bounce like ATVs. The game designers didn't just program one kind of steering mechanism for every vehicle.

If you're a newbie, you can win "MX" races even if you're terrible if you pick the "easy" setting and settle into the excellent, turn-on-a-dime steering controls. But whether you're great or awful, you'll get a multifaceted racer offering dozens of tracks and minigames.

By contrast, "Indianapolis 500 Legends" offers much narrower action, although it makes the best of what it is. What's best is the steering is perfect, especially using the Wii wand as a steering wheel.

But it is super niche-y. "Legends" is designed to appeal to race fans who want to drive autos of the 1960s, the kind made famous by guys such as A.J. Foyt.

These crazy little rocket-esque cars were perhaps future-looking in the Ed Sullivan era. They're small, thin and slower than my brother's muscle cars.

The routine of "Legend" is a wee too normal. You drive fast, keeping your finger on the gas pedal at all times. You turn left. You try to catch the drift of cars in front of you, then slingshot around them.

It's also not fun to qualify for races. On the other hand, you can get pretty excited trying to dodge wrecks and speed to the finish lines. (You have to drive flawlessly to win.)

"Legends" tries to feel bigger than it is by including film footage of races from back in the day. Still, it seems like it would be a little gem for car enthusiasts, while a little slow for everyone else.

By the way, in both "MX vs. ATV: Untamed" and "Legends," you must win races and challenges in order to unlock more cars and tracks. I realize this is pro forma for car games. But I'm sick of it.

Why can't a racing game just let me start off with the sleekest, coolest autos? By keeping most of the cars in the garage until the end, these games are saving the best for last. I don't like that. I also eat ice cream as an appetizer, sometimes. I'm really not very patient.

("MX vs. ATM: Untamed" retails for $60 for PS 3 and Xbox 360; $40 for PS 2 and PSP; $30 for DS -- Plays fun. Looks good. Easy to challenging, depending on which settings you choose. Rated "E." Three stars out of four.)

("Indianapolis 500 Legends" retails for $40 for Wii; $30 for DS -- Plays fun, though short and limited. Looks good. Moderately challenging. Rated "E" for mild violence. Two stars out of four.)

Stuck on mommy track

2008-01-18T14:19:00.000-06:00

January 17, 2008
Someone behind the scenes at "American Gladiators" may be struggling with mommy issues. Contestants are constantly talking about their moms. Is a producer nudging them to do so, to appeal to mothers watching the family show at home?

Here are three Freudian clips from the last two episodes:

• "My mom lives in a trailer, and I don't want my mom livin' in a trailer anymore," said Belinda, dedicating her crying, losing effort to her mother.

• "I had to go fast, so I was just thinking back to childhood, you know, when I'd get in trouble, my mom would chase me with a belt. So I was just trying to climb up a tree like when I was a kid," said Jeff, explaining victory.

• "Mom is probably one of my biggest inspirations. She was a single mother and she did everything she possibly could to make sure that we had what we needed. She taught me that no matter what happens in life, if you push hard enough, you're going to succeed," said Siene.

Other rivals with stupid names dedicated performances to mommies, too, from Sharaud ("She's my hero!") to Adonis ("Mom, this one's for you.").

Attention producers of "American Gladiator": Think about therapy.

--Doug Elfman

An old-reliable reality show bores us by playing nice as an unwelcome blast from past tries it super-nice

2008-01-18T14:18:00.000-06:00

January 17, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic
'American Gladiators" has been basking in great ratings. The writers strike opened the door to bring back the Nerf-y competition show because nothing else was on.

But now that "American Idol" is back on TV, can muscle-bound men and women in suits of fake armor continue to keep families watching?

"Gladiators" and "Idol" don't compete against each other directly. But there's only so much space and time on "Access Hollywood" and playgrounds to report about (or promote) one or the other. They're competing for pop culture cachet, and "Gladiators" is the clear underdog in this fight.

"Gladiators" -- already renewed for a second season -- ought to get a thumbs down sooner rather than later, or get tuned up into a tighter hour of action.

The physical feats of derring-do are idiotically fine. But they get old after a while. And it hardly matters if contestants beat each other for 50 minutes, because that only means someone gets a few seconds' head start in the final, minutes-long obstacle course ("The Eliminator").

Also, take a gander at co-host Hulk Hogan's droopy eyes. It appears as if he's four blinks from falling asleep. I don't even want to guess what material his straw-blond hair is made of.

Worst of all, contestants talk in gushy saccharine during painfully, accidentally hilarious bios meant to make us root for them.

"I've got a beautiful wife. She's my high school sweetheart," a Tennessee guy said. "I've never held another girl's hand other than hers."

Really, dude?

Then, Hogan and co-host Laila Ali are always identifying "the eye of the tiger" and telling rivals they showed "heart."

"Christie, you were unbelievable up there," Hogan told one contestant. "That was the greatest showcase of aerial wrestling I've ever seen!"

Yeah, guess what. Christie lost that showcase! And yet, she was the greatest ever, Hogan thought.

The nice-nice tone of "Gladiators" stands in stark contrast to how "American Idol" has defined itself over the years. But even "Idol" is nice-ing up.

In Tuesday's debut, Simon conjured up an "I'm sorry" to one bad singer, he hugged another sad loser and he was quieter than normal.

Simon will be Simon, of course, so he also told a crooner to shut up, cracked that another was a "fat lump," and he told one girl her audition was "exactly identical to a nightmare I had last week."

As "Idol" progresses, expect Simon and Randy to pass over pleasantries in favor of cruel-to-be-kind truths. They will get mean again. They had better, because Tuesday's sappy, happy show was a yawn.

So anyway, at their base, cheesy "Gladiator" tries to lift you up where familiar "Idol" tries to tear you down. Kind or brutal -- which type of show do you prefer? Or do they balance each other out?

A softer Simon this season?; Judge isn't irascible, just bored, he insists

2008-01-16T02:20:00.000-06:00

January 15, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN

Has Simon Cowell grown a heart? When "American Idol" returns with new auditions tonight, there will be viewers wishing Simon would lighten up, and those viewers might include ... Simon.

There are times, he says, when he hates himself for cracking on the wannabes.

"You don't know the person's back story, normally, before they walk in the room," he says. "For all I know, their dog died an hour ago, and they're singing this in memory of the dog. And I -- or anyone else -- is rude."

Once he watches such episodes on TV, "when you see the whole story unfold, it's horrible."

Yet, Cowell says he gets "harsh" because he gets bored. (He's also a smoker. Last year I asked him if nicotine fits made him grumpier, but he assured me he takes cigarette breaks.)

Anyway, Cowell has deluded himself into thinking he's a softer judge than ever.

"How have I changed over the years?" he says, repeating a question during a telephone press conference. "Maybe I've become a little bit more tolerant."

Tolerant? That's funny, because "Idol" producer Nigel Lythgoe says Cowell and the other judges, this year, are "childish, pitiful -- the same as every year," with Cowell getting up to leave after "a big row" with Randy.

Told about the "childish, pitiful" comment, Cowell asks, "Was he talking about his relationship with us?"

"I'm kidding there, by the way," Cowell says, then adds seriously, "We all find new audition sequences harder and harder, as years go on, because it is torture, and it gets on your nerves.

"Therefore, you can become a bit argumentative or emotional. But I think to describe us as pitiful -- I mean, certainly someone in his position shouldn't be describing us like that."

The new season starts with bad news. Recent "Idol" concert tours weren't sellouts. And J Records dropped previous winners Ruben Studdard and Taylor Hicks.

Cowell says it's no surprise Hicks got dropped.

"I've always gone on record as saying I genuinely didn't think he was the best singer that year. I thought he was the most popular person," Cowell says.

Lythgoe goes further, calling Taylor's victory a "mistake" by voters.

"Taylor Hicks brought a performance and fun to the table," Lythgoe says. "[Chris] Daughtry was really the musical star of that year. ... But mistakes are made because people don't vote [for a favorite when] they think somebody is so secure. And [viewers think], 'Oh, he's definitely going to win, so now I'm going to vote for somebody else.' That's what happened that year."

When asked why certain contestants get little airtime in the early rounds, Lythgoe insinuates that last year's winner, Jordin Sparks, wasn't all that intriguing.

"Jordin didn't get any screen time, I don't believe. ... If they're as boring as hell in front of the camera, I'm not going to show them," he says. "So they should be grateful they're not being seen."

Both men claim this year's contestants are more interesting and talented than last year's group of Sanjaya et al. Looking back, Cowell doesn't think Sanjaya posed a problem for "Idol," although the weak singer's rise concerned him.

"There was a point -- I'll be honest with you -- halfway through, when it did occur to me, after some absolutely horrific performances ... that we actually might have a problem," Cowell says.

"At the time, this VoteForTheWorst site [based in suburban Chicago] and Howard Stern genuinely believed that they had a huge influence" in promoting Sanjaya.

"I don't think they did, in hindsight," Cowell says. "I laugh about it, to be honest with you. And I think he was harmless, you know. He had a run. He had some fun. He was actually a very nice kid."

Don't expect to see as many Bon Jovi-type nights with star mentors this season. Lythgoe says he got "carried away" with the mentor idea last year. This year will focus more on singers, their back stories and "what they want from this competition."

Take rumors of upcoming guest stars with a grain of salt. "Every year, somebody says, 'Paul McCartney is doing it this year,' " Lythgoe says. "Let me say straight away: No, he's not."

New 'Terminator' series: You'll be back

2008-01-11T12:20:00.001-06:00

January 11, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN delfman@ suntimes.com

History professors will tell you there's no such thing as a perfect offense or defense. You can invent the knife if you want, but it'll be beaten by the sword, which will be stopped by the shield, which will be broken by the cannonball.

That's the bloody nature of evolution. There can be no calming victory between warring factions, only chaos, death and the progression of battle machines. I guarantee if the United States builds "Star Wars," someone else will invent a response.

The new "Terminator" series, debuting Sunday, plays into this reality of the endless war. Robots of the future keep time-traveling to the present to try to stop human nemeses. Every time humans have won in the films, the machines have responded to win.

"The Sarah Connor Chronicles" starts in 1999, when Sarah believes she's beaten the machines. Yet her son John -- the future leader of the resistance -- goes to a high school class to find another evil Terminator machine gunning at him.

From there, Sarah (Lena Headey) and John (Thomas Dekker) try to survive exciting action sequences and wound-licking scenes. They're joined by a new good Terminator, sent by John of the future to save them.

Arnold Schwarzenegger is too busy terminating California to be involved in "Sarah Connor." He also seems to be too old and too male.

The new good Terminator is played by Summer Glau, one of the best young actresses in the sci-fi field. (She was River in "Serenity" and "Firefly.") Glau is sleight, but her Terminator arms toss baddies downward through floors.

I try not to write phrases that seem tailored for TV ads, but it's unavoidable here: "The Sarah Connor Chronicles" begins as an intense, thoughtful, exciting, fun spectacle. The first episode will kick your ass.

Or, I should say, it will kick your ass if you're a sucker for "Terminator" flicks and provocative action films, as I am. The first two episodes are cool and smartly written, directed and acted. There's also a depth to those war theories I was mentioning.

See, the "Terminator" series chronicles the speedy evolution of humans and a species of machines. In literary terms, this is man vs. man, man vs. machine, man vs. himself and man vs. nature.

Now it's less "man" than woman. Sarah and the new good Terminator make male figures wilt, while John is the weak link, sort of, since he hasn't embraced his fate as a future leader.

Two men who count big are Josh Friedman, a "Terminator" fan writing and producing, and lead director David Nutter. For the taut music score, they found Bear McCreary, who does "Battlestar Gallactica's" excellent beat.

McCreary is skilled, though my one complaint is I miss the metallic "ding-ding" sound from the films. But whatever.

Not that it matters for this review, but I imagine this will be hit. It starts with a jolt. The emotional heart is hope, perseverance and the crappy things people must do to survive, protect and evolve.

It's a macrocosm of the human condition. Sarah says in voiceover narration, "The death of a child is no less than a holocaust. In the case of my son, these words are literally true."

So they go on the run, a child of the future (a reluctant savior), a parent (a mother of the year) and a Terminator girl who throws big men through walls and rips bullets out of her shoulder without blinking. What isn't awesome about that?

TELEVISION REVIEW | Dr. Drew's rehab clinic makes for must-quit TV

2008-01-11T12:19:00.000-06:00

January 10, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

So you think Brigitte Nielsen and Daniel Baldwin are freaks? At least they're functioning addicts.

You should get a load of little Jaimee Foxworth, who was Judy on "Family Matters." She grew up into a porn star with reefer madness. She smoked to the point where she refused to leave the house unless she could smoke ganja on the job. In the porn business, she could. Suddenly, meeting naked strangers on camera seemed like a pretty cool idea.

That sounds like one of those stupid public service announcements where the government tries to scare you away from silly little pot. And yet, Foxworth (no relation to Jeff Foxworthy) really went down that path.

"Celebrity Rehab" takes cameras into the Pasadena Recovery Center, where Dr. Drew Pinsky serves cold turkey to her and seven other "celebrities." (Jessica Sierra? Wasn't she just some "American Idol" reject?)

Pinsky is serious business, unlike egomaniacs who try to set up TV treatments of Britney Spears. So this seems like real rehab, even if some G-Listers come across as if they mostly want to mainline TV again.

"Why are you here?" Pinsky asks ex-famous wrestler and recovering binge-alcoholic Chyna.

"I don't know," she says after a lengthy pause of brain doodling. "Does that sound totally stupid?"

Yes.

If you're not used to seeing addicts go through withdrawal, watching "Rehab" could serve as a small shock.

Here's the lead singer of Crazy Town, Seth "Shifty" Binzer, pulling a crack pipe out of his sock: "This is probably why I'm gonna die."

And there's Jeff Conaway, in a wheelchair and looking unrecognizable from his vibrant roles as Bobby from "Taxi" and Kenickie from "Grease." He snorts drugs and does $1,000 worth of Xanax and OxyContin until he crashes hard off the dope: "Life is pain, and pain is hell."

Once all these losers sober up, they start getting cranky.

"Their brain feels like it's committing suicide when it's not doing drugs," Pinsky says.

It's all mildly interesting, what with the puking in toilets, the DT's and, oh, porn star Mary Carey trying to check into rehab with her sex toys, but apparently that's a breach of house rules. She passes gas loudly, too, then laughs like a hyena through a throat made of sandpaper and shards of glass.

If you're an addict, you should watch to see your awesome future as a skuzzy freakazoid suffering the depths of delirium tremens.

delfman@suntimes.com

Weird without writers

2008-01-11T12:18:00.000-06:00

January 8, 2008
BY DOUG ELFMAN Television Critic

Jon Stewart dropped a little bombshell on "The Daily Show" last night. He said he offered to give his striking writers what they want, but the Writers Guild of America turned him down.

"Let's say you're on basic cable, but you'll do it, and you've gotten your company [Comedy Central] to say OK, even though they clearly think you're insane. Why would you turn something like that down?''

Stewart, in a reserved-peeved tone, joked that he's a casualty of the strike between the "arbitrary" WGA and a small group of greedy studio execs.

"Individuals have to be sacrificed at that altar, and they feel sometimes sad inside," he said sort of bitterly.

Later, a spokeswoman for the Writers Guild told me that WGA reps, who hadn't seen the show, preferred not to comment.

DeadlineHollywoodDaily.com is reporting the problem might be that Comedy Central is owned by Viacom, which has been stonewalling the WGA. That may mean the WGA doesn't feel comfortable entering into an agreement with a subsidiary of a company that's been playing very tough.

These were the first "Daily" and "Colbert" shows since the strike started two months ago. They were weird.

After all, here are the two most important satirists of the 21st century operating without the writers who make them funnier and more influential. With a presentation of moral fiber, the hosts have reshaped political debates and become icons for snarkellectuals, kids and alternative thinkers.

But suddenly, they were riding their high horses across the picket line.

Usually, they explain everything. Monday, neither explained the behind-the-scenes movements that made this happen.

Stewart did offer a lot of words of support to his fellow union writers. He referred to the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers as "NAMBLA."

He pointed out his writers aren't getting real money from Viacom when the company sells "The Daily Show" on iTunes for $1.99 an episode.

But he jibed both sides by pointing out that the last time TV shows went on break was after 9/11 -- and that was only for a week.

"If my math is correct, the writers' strike is now nine times worse than Sept. 11," he said.

Stewart was OK. But he was at a loss for better words most of the time. And even though writer-hosts aren't supposed to be preparing jokes during the strike, he clearly did:

"It doesn't look like they hired new American Gladiators. It looks like they just unfroze the old ones."

Colbert -- in character, as usual, as a rightwing loon -- looked more comfortable.

He cracked that Barack Obama won't do his show during the strike, but that Obama has said he'll meet with the leaders of Syria and Iran to try to defuse war.

"Syria and Iran? He won't talk to me? But he will talk to Mahmoud?" Colbert said. "Barack Obama is saying Stephen Colbert is worse than a terrorist."

Well, Colbert is nowhere near being a terrorist. But he and Stewart did seem just slightly scabby.

Fast-paced games 'Unreal Tournament III,' 'Need For Speed' a blur of fun

2008-01-11T12:17:00.001-06:00

Jan. 11, 2008
By Doug Elfman
The Game Dork

The toughest thing to do in the video game world is to blink. There you are, racing a car at 120 mph, or shooting cranky aliens on war-torn planets. Either way, environments whir by at a deadly pace. To bat a dry eye is to blink and die.

My friends always can tell when I've been gaming too much. I don't get sore thumbs. My dead giveaway is a pair of bleary, bloodshot yokes. And now, two fast-moving, winter games stress my pupils to the max.

In the first dry-eye challenge -- the fun but unremarkable "Unreal Tournament III" -- you play as a basic sci-fi girl or guy (your choice). You shoot big guns at sprinting rivals in steely corridors that look related to the metallic spaceship guts of "Aliens."

While playing online against other gamers, everything is a blur of spacesuits and ammo. When you croak, you're immediately resurrected. But the game often restores you to life right in front of a competitor's gun. Blam.

If you close your eyes for a moment, you may be shot. If you survive during a long blink, you will be discombobulated afterward, as all kinds of battle movements will have blown by during your visual rest.

That's the point. It wants to drive you insane with frenzy. That's a noble goal, I think. Games ought to take over your senses. This one certainly does.

The action slows to a lighter, slower pace if you tackle "Tournament III" as a solo mission against the computer. But the solo journeys seem like warm-ups to the online shooting, which is what has made the "Unreal" series so classic.

I'm not totally won over by this sequel. It's entertaining and includes good, dorky game modes, like "Capture-the-Flag." But it's an overly familiar romp of running-and-gunning. It's probably best-suited for enthusiasts of the series, and nonblinkers.

The other eyeball-reddening game on the agenda is "Need For Speed: ProStreet." The "Need for Speed" series defined the artistry of driving games. Settings pass prettily around your auto while you control superb steering and car-handling.

You zoom down a road at 100-plus mph. You see cracked, black streets rolling underneath your tires at an exhilarating rate. You also see the reflection of that road's gravel and crevices shimmering quickly across the surface of your shiny car. This is extraordinary.

"ProStreet" especially comes alive when you compete online, as long as you get to drive a traditional race, and not just enter a drag race, which is a drag (step on the gas, shift gears, race over, boring).

Unlike previous "Need for Speeds," "ProStreet" challenges you to drive on actual racetracks, instead of "Need's" usual array of city streets. I'm not cool with that. City routes are way more interesting to crest over, with the traffic lights, and the urban skyscrapers, and all that mood-setting.

The tracks of "ProStreet" are isolated away from town, pretty much, so the race feels hemmed-in by railings. If I'm going to suffer red eye on the run, I want a more open-road experience. My eyes deserve that reward for feeling like they're going to resign in protest and storm out of my skull.

("Need For Speed: ProStreet" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 and PS 3; $50 for Wii; $40 for PS 2; $30 for DS -- Plays fun online, sort of fun offline. Looks great. Moderately easy to challenging (depending on settings you choose). Rated "E 10+" for suggestive themes. Three stars out of four.)

("Unreal Tournament III" retails for $60 for Xbox 360 and PS 3 -- Plays mostly fun, except when it's too fast and familiar. Looks very good. Challenging. Rated "M" for blood, gore, intense violence, strong language. Three stars.)