A Series of "Firsts" - Part One

Felicitations, Forensic Fiends!

I'm afraid that I've created a monster.

In April of 2010 I started this blog.  I used to do five entries a week but it was just too much to maintain.  Eventually I dropped it down to three entries and now I shoot for four posts a month.

But this doesn't mean that I'm slacking off: quite the opposite in fact.  In the interim I started up an entertainment review blog and another site for tabletop gaming.  Maintaining these three webby publications ("weblications?") on a regular basis keep me pretty friggin' busy, so much so that I tend to miss out on some real world (ergo: paying) opportunities. 

I hadn't done any background film work since the Stephen King A&E miniseries Bag of Bones back in September of last year and I was starting to get the itch to get back on set again.  Thing is, I'm often so immersed in my self-imposed writing deadlines that I don't actively troll the casting websites looking for gigs.  Which is insanely stupid since the film work actually pays me something and all my writing seems to do lately is bump up a hit counter.     

In order to properly set up this week's entry there's one other thing that I have to tell you: my friends send me a shit-ton of emails.  Honestly, I know that these people go to a place that they call work but I harbor some serious doubts if any actual work actually takes place there at all.  Cripes, back in my old call centre job I rarely risked sending an external email lest I be taken back behind the service entrance for what could only be called an Old Yeller special.

I'm also in a table-top gaming group with these passionate, dice chuckin' lunatics so between Monday and Wednesday my inbox kinda looks like friggin' Obama's.  The annoying thing is that I'm legitimately interested in the reading everything they send but I have to make a concerted effort to do so.  Sometimes it feels like another job, especially after I've finished editing an epic movie review or transcribing a lengthy board game session report.

And that was my precise mind-set last week.  I didn't check my email from Monday April 30'th until May 7'th.  Honestly, this was really weird for me.  Last Monday I finally broke down and had a peek at what had come through.  I was horrified when I came across the following notification:

 Hey there!

You fit the description of a character we are casting for Forensic Firsts season 2!

Forensic Firsts is a crime investigation docu-drama, produced for The Smithsonian Channel. We are shooting the dramatized re-enactments.

Shoot dates aren't set in stone yet, but are looking like they'll fall on or between May 9th and May 11th. The character will likely be for one full day (10hrs+) of shooting, potentially two. Shooting takes place within the HRM and you would require your own transportation. Lunch will be provided.

Please let me know if you're interested, available on those days, and if you still match your photos on the Hennessey Casting database.

If the answer to all of the above is 'yes!', then I'll show your head shots to the director and producers for final approval.

Please let me know ASAP! Thanks!

Adam

My heart shriveled up.  The email had been sent six days ago, which in movie terms might as well have been six months ago.  I was already somewhat familiar with Forensic Firsts, not because I'd seen the show (it's a U.S. exclusive on the Smithsonian Channel) but because some people I know in a local acting group had raved about their experience working on the show.

Despite how stale the offer was, I crossed my fingers and gamely wrote back, leading with an abject apology before asking if there was still something left for me to do.  Needless to say I positively jumped for joy after reading the following response:

Hi David,

Thanks for getting back to me!

We have cast most of the roles, but still have some left for Wednesday May 9th. We would need you for a full day, morning until evening. Exact times are being worked out, and the location is likely to be near the Armdale Rotary.

Please let me know ASAP if you're interested and available.

Thanks!

Adam

Although I'd probably missed out on a really sweet opportunity I was just happy to get back on a film set and hang out with some more cool n' creative people.  I didn't care if they intended to turn me into a human coat rack, I still still super-excited.  

I got the following location and call time email from Adam later on that evening:

Hi David,

I just left a voicemail on the number you have listed on the Hennessey Casting database for tomorrow, but just to reiterate, here are the details.

Your call time tomorrow is 11:00AM and the location is the Chocolate Lake Rec Center on 14 Purcell's Cove Road. I've attached some maps.

Wardrobe would like you to bring the following items:
- casual jeans (not baggy)
- dark shoes (not bright white sneakers)
- casual spring or fall jacket

Also, we can't have logos or brand names on the clothing.

Thanks, and see you tomorrow!
-Adam
         
This email represented a genuine trifecta of pure "win" for me.  First off, the call time was at 11 am and not, say, 6 am.  Secondly, the location was only about a ten minute drive from my place.  And finally: for once I'd be wearing casual clothes on a film set!

I dutifully packed three options for every requested article of clothing into my rolling suitcase.  I always bring along loose leaf and pens to write with and a book to keep me busy, but I'm usually so excited being on set that I never remember to use them.  Either I'm yakking with someone I know or I'm intensely studying the efforts of the crew as they set things up.  

Despite charting out my journey via bus (with its overly-optimistic travel time estimate of twenty minutes), I still left the house @ 9:30 to give me plenty of time to get over there.  Which was a wise move in retrospect since Metro Transit decided to throw in a twenty minute layover at the Mumford Terminal while I was waiting for my connector to show up.

The bus driver graciously let me off just a stone's throw away from the Chocolate Lake Rec Centre at around 10:15 am.  Once again, I'd arrived before any orientation signs had been set out so I just kinda stumbled around like Tom Hanks in The Terminal for a little while.  Mercifully, A.D. Adam, who'd sent me the previous communiqués, noticed me drifting around like a concussion victim and came over to introduce himself.

After taking me to holding down in the basement, he expertly filled me in what was going on. 
Every script for Forensic Firsts is based on a real-life crime story.  This particular episode dealt with a New Jersey teenager named Jason Henry who was accused of deliberately setting a lethal fire that killed his parents back in 2007.  After local police were quick to point the finger of blame at Jason, an entire community worth of character witnesses immediately rushed to the boy's defense.

Pretty meaty stuff, huh?
   
"Like I said in the email, we've already cast most of the roles," Adam told me.  "But we've still have a specific character that we want you to play: Jason's scout master comes out to proclaim his innocence at a press conference!"

Wow, this would indeed be a first for me.  Not only would I be portraying a character that figures prominently in a shot, I'd actually be playing a real person.

Soon wardrobe gals Sarah and Beth-Ann had me decked out in a tan-colored, badge-bedecked shirt with a blue neckerchief.   Not unlike this:

Then makeup-girl-extraordinaire Candace was charged with laying on the spackle.  After finishing my makeup, she applied gel to my hair and began twisting it into natty-looking side-sweep.

"Good Lord," I told her.  "You're not giving me dreads, are you?"

"Yes, didn't get the email about that?" she replied plaintively.

"Man, I gotta start reading the fine print," I muttered.

"Oh there was no fine print!" she quickly countered.

"Alright!  Alright!" I protested.  "But I gotta draw the line at..."

"Beads?" she said with a wry smile.  "Too late..."

I was delighted to see that fellow HalifACT!or Dale Willman had been cast in the role of Jason's mother and I'd be side-by-side with her at the "press conference".  Also along for the ride was a lovely retired gent named Gordon who played the part of Jason's priest.  This episode represented a first for Gordon as well: his first time ever being on set!

"Oh, you're in for a real treat!" I told him as I helped him fill out his daunting-looking paperwork.

The great thing about doing a fair amount of background work in a small city is that you start to recognize the crew and get to know quite a few of them.  For example, production assistant/human dynamo Zoe (who I'd worked on an indie film with just after the holidays) was like a house on fire.  Within a few minutes she's conjured up a fully-laden crafts services table, apparently from out of thin air.

I can tell you first hand: the fine folks who work professionally in the enterprise of illusion really work their asses off.  Say 'no' to downloading, kids.     

As we were being called to set I couldn't resist asking Adam about what part I was originally up for.

"Well, we hadn't nailed down anything specific.  We were going to pass your head shot along to the director for a possible feature role."

Feature role?  Feature role?!?  Man, I'd really screwed the pooch on this one.  My only hope was to try and do my best today, atone for this grievous oversight and hopefully make a positive impression. 

We were led into the rec centre's small gymnasium which was now draped with American flags, television lights and a slew of protest signs proclaiming Jason's innocence.  The set was dominated by small stage bearing a makeshift podium adorned with about eight or nine fake microphones.  Soon the room was positively congested with sign-wielding student protesters, professional-looking reporter types and ersatz cameramen and photographers.

*POOF!* just like that...instant U.S.-style media circus.        

Co-ordinating all of this fevered activity was veteran director Jay Dahl.  Jay is something of a local institution, having donned the producer's hat for Picnicface's feature film debut Roller Town (which I'd also worked on).  He was also the driving force behind a slew of creative indie films, including the genuinely unnerving Body Snatcher-esque horror feature There Are Monsters and the saucy comedic sci-fi short Sex! With Hot Robots.  He also scored a Best Director Award from the DGC for his debut film The Wedding Video back in 2001.

Although I've never watched an episode of Forensic Firsts (and can't, even if I wanted to), I imagine that the program probably employs a combination of documentary footage, dramatic recreation and voice-over work.  In addition to playing a character in costume, I'd soon be engaging in yet another first for me.

I'd actually be acting somewhat. 

Jay put Dale, Gordon and myself up on the stage to address the crowd of thirty or so extras.  Although we didn't have lines per se, we did mime being sad, outraged, frustrated and then resigned.
The first set-up had the camera locked down at the gym entrance, pointing at the stage through a veritable maze of protest signs.

Starting with Dale, all three of us gave an impassioned "speech" at the podium which required some creative ad-libbage.  The most challenging aspect of this was when Jay tasked us to deliver our "dialogue" in a halting, Bill Shatner style which I presume would be used to create some sort of slow-motion effect.

Once again, I'm endlessly thankful for my past experience doing training and public readings since one of the hardest things you can do is talk slowly in front of thirty people.  The natural tendency in a situation like that is to try and get everything out in a mad rush and then promptly flee the scene.  Fortunately, I didn't find this to be particularly difficult.  In fact, in some weird way, it was actually kinda fun.  

While Jay prompted her to gesture at a prop locket which had a picture of the kid playing Jason inside,
Dale launched into a genuinely heartfelt speech.  During this time, "Father" Gordon was asked to comfort her and I spent my time looking indignant, patting Dale reassuringly on the arm and gesturing at some of the loopier signs being carried by the protesters.

When I was asked to take the podium I just started blabbering on about whatever came to mind.

"I've know this boy since he was knee-high to a grasshopper!  There is NO WAY that Jason is capable of such a monstrous act!  The police are railroading this innocent teenager!  They're looking for an quick and easy scapegoat!"

As ridiculous as this may seem, try picture it being said by Kevin Pollack doing a bad Captain Kirk impersonation.

At the end of each line, Jay would direct the crowd to respond in some way.  Either with murmuring (with an intensity level ranging from one to ten), reporters firing makeshift questions at us, paparazzi firing off flashbulbs and the crowd going positively ape shit with a full-out roar of approval and signs held aloft.  It was a blast.

Jay was a master at fostering good karma on set.  Every time he needed something done, he'd refer to that department and include the suffix "friends".  For example, if he wanted more color on the back wall behind us, he'd say "Art Dec Friends, I was wondering if we could get a few more flags and signs on that back wall?"  If he needed us back lit he'd say "Lighting Friends, I was wondering if we could get another small flood back there behind Dale."  If he needed us to actually pay attention instead of babbling excitedly at one another like excited school kids he'd day "Actor Friends, how about we try this?"

He also employed a few really interesting stylistic techniques, including a "frozen tableau" which had all of us standing motionless for what felt like an eternity.  He also orchestrated an interesting fade-out which saw us slowly drifting off the set and out of frame, one at a time.  I imagine that it produced a pretty cool effect, helping to convey the impression that support for Jason was slowly fading away.

We had a brief break while the crew moved the camera onto the podium to get reverse coverage of our speech.  After Jay captured this and got plenty of reaction footage of the protesters we were informed that a basketball game was slated to repossess the gym so we quickly wrapped things up and hit the bricks.

Although it was only a five hour day, I still had an absolute blast.  I'd played an actual role, worn a real (if not slightly dweeby) costume, stood front and center on screen, and was actually asked to ad-lib and emote!

Although I was out of town this past weekend, I was certainly quick to check my email today.  Imagine my surprise when I read this:

Hey David!

I hope you're checking your email this week, because I want to cast you in a feature role for TOMORROW MAY 15 2012

We're still working out the call times, but it will probably be 9AM, and lasting all day. The location is the ___________.

Please get back to me ASAP, either by email or call me on our office phone, 902-***-****.

-Adam

But that's a story for another day...

EPIC   The amazing true story behind this episode of Forensic Firsts.

FAIL  What you don't want to have captured forever.

Bag of Awesome - Part II

Greetings, Mavens of Movie Macabre-ery!

So, there I was, on the set of Bag of Bones, watching veteran horror director Mick Garris run around the set, blocking out shots and trying to anticipate future set-ups like it was all an elaborate chess game.

This had me positively enthralled.  After all, here's a guy who's probably had more conversations with Stephen King then I've had hot meals.  Although I was completely wrapped up in what I was witnessing, the other extras were either fixing their make-up, chatting idly amongst themselves or complaining about having to stand in direct sunlight.

I couldn't help but notice that there was also a black-clad, pony-tailed gent standing at the foot the coffin this whole time.  He chatted warmly with us background folks for a bit, observing that we all looked appropriately formal-looking.

"Yeah, we clean up pretty good, don't we?" I joked.

Turns out, he was serving as a stand-in, allowing the crew to work out all the technical details before bringing the performers into the mix.  Eventually things was hashed out and Mick requested that the principal actors be brought on set.

I turned towards the makeshift sun shelter just a few meters away and saw three very distinct-looking characters headed our way.  The first was played by Nova Scotian actor Gary Levert:

Gary's been pretty darned busy since be began his acting career in earnest back in 1998 when he assumed the role of "Hal" in the TV series Black Harbour.  He's had a parade of solid gigs since, appearing in Emily of New Moon, The Shipping News, Trudeau, Lexx, Shattered City, Trailer Park Boys: The Movie, Jesse Stone: Thin Ice and Haven.       

This time out Gary is playing the role of George Footman, a shady Castle County Deputy Sheriff who's actions play a significant role in the plot of the original novel.  He certainly looked the part: clad in distinctive dark olive/brown pants, holster belt and gun, dark tie, tan shirt, badge, name-tag, hat and shoulder crests.  As soon as he took his place by the foot of the coffin he turned back appraised us all with an approving eye.

In the case of the other two actors, both IMDB and the normally-omniscient power of the internets have failed me in my quest to identify them.  The first was a very tall, imposing older gentlemen dressed in a suit.  If I were to hazard a guess, I'd have to say that he was portraying one of the lawyer characters from the book: either John Storrow or Romeo Bissonette.  He was positioned just to the right of Gary and immediately started to interact with those gathered around, particularly the "priest".

Speaking of the devil, the "good" Father continued to regale his flock with several extremely off-color "sermons" featuring such inappropriate topics as bestiality and ethnic humor.  Pretty soon I was chuckling uncontrollably, which caught the attention of the well-dressed actor standing in front of me.            

"Can you believe he's actually one of the producers?" he leaned over and whispered.

Turns out, it was actually Mark Sennet doing a cameo...

Mark's funded such diverse projects as the television movie Inside the Osmonds, the George Gallo art pic Local Color with Ray Liotta and another Stephen King adaption: Desperation.  When he's not busy keeping the coffers open for productions such as Bag of Bones, apparently he's likely to turn up headlining Amateur Night at "Magooby's Joke House" in Baltimore, Maryland.

I believe the third performer who shared the scene with me is named Debra Graham.  She was cast in the role of  Rogette Whitmore, personal assistant to the book's main baddie, Max Devore.  Her costume and make-up work was flawless.

The slight, rake-thin actress was clad in a long, black frock with a raised veil and a shawl around her neck.  She wore Victorian-style boots and her face was deathly pallid and finely wrinkled.   It was the perfect Cruella DeVille/Black Widow look.  Despite her imposing appearance she took the time to speak with each and every one of the extras gathered around, describing us as appropriately "funereal".  I personally had a chance to chat with her about the tremendous location we were shooting in, how perfect it was to have the paint-peeling church up on the hill and how Nova Scotia is rich with so many great cinematic locations.

Just before the cameras began to crank, one of the the wardrobe ladies (proudly wallowing in what she claimed was an Antigonish accent) bombed through and made sure we all looked ship-shape.  In quick succession, she performed an elaborate but muted handkerchief fold for the "lawyer's" jacket pocket, added an eye-catching silver broach to "Rogette's" shawl, and made sure that Gary's gun and holster covered up his pant's belt.  After a quick hair and make-up appraisal by another team, we were ready for the cameras.     

But just before we got underway there was another notable addition to the gathered:

Yes that's right, folks, Pierce Friggin' Brosnan arrived on set, saying a hearty good morning to Mick Garris and shaking his hand as if they were meeting for the first time.  He greeted his co-stars warmly and then said good morning to everyone before taking his place half way up the hill for the scene.

Instantly the set seemed electrically charged.  All of the men suddenly felt strangely diminished, myself included.  Soccer moms and dilettantes alike leaned over, whispered in each other's ears and giggled like schoolgirls.  Suddenly I recalled a local news story that Pierce had been spotted at local java house called Steve-O-Reno's Cappuccino.  I remembered this because, by no co-incidence I'm sure, everyone on the crew seemed to be drinking from Steve-O-Reno coffee cups.           

Eventually the A.D. came through and parted the mourners like the Red,...er..Black Sea.  This ensured that the camera had a line of sight through the mourners as it reached the end of its dolly track run behind us.  This was shot a couple of times while Debra went through her actions.

This consisted of taking a white orchid, stepping forward, resting it on the casket, sinking to one knee, lowering her head and then standing back up to engage in a nasty stare-down with Pierce's character Mike Noonan.  Pierce reacted to this by meeting her gaze from behind his reflective shades and then folding his arms in a look of defiance.  This was repeated only a few short times before Mick called "Cut!" followed by "Print that!" followed by "We're moving on!"  Not long after we were escorted back to our holding area.

As soon as I was back inside I set myself to writing feverishly again.  Just as I was getting into it I heard:

"Wow, you look busy!"

I glanced up into the face of an older gent who I'd noticed before sitting part-way up the hill during that last take.  More keen to meet someone new versus scribbling on looseleaf like a madman, I put my work aside and replied back:

"Yeah, I like to write.  I've got this blog thing and if I'm ever on a movie set I like to document the experience whenever I can."

"Well," he said.  "That's a really good idea.  I should have been doing that myself all these years!"

"Oh," I returned.  "I take it this isn't your first time on a movie set?"

"Goodness no!" he replied.  "This is probably the thirtieth film I've done!"

He introduced himself as Bill and over the next forty minutes, he kept me transfixed until our next call.  He'd certainly had plenty of ventures, adventures and misadventures to talk about: like flying combat aircraft in Korea, taking on friendly fire, crash-landing his plane, owning and operating a successful resort and acting as a professor at Saint Mary's University where his equations became instrumental in the development of voter tabulation software.

Needless to say, it would likely be fair to characterize Bill as "financially stable".

And then there were all the movies and whatnot.  He had plenty of stories about his involvement in local film and T.V. productions.  He'd been put through his paces several times by Jonathan Torrens, had appeared in Mike Clattenburg's local comedy phenomenon Trailer Park Boys and witnessed a mass dry-humping of Sandra Bullock during, of all things, a charity hockey game during the filming of Two If By Sea.

At first, Bill just dabbled in these things, but after several health scares, he decided to retire from the rat-race and pursue acting gigs as often as he could.

"Life's too short not to be doing exactly what you love," he said at one point.  "And I love movies."

'Amen,' I thought to myself.

After Bill and I finalized the bonding process by expressing our mutual love for the television show River Monsters, we were all called back to the set.  En route, one of the female mourners somehow managed to maim her foot.  Anyone squeamish at the sight of blood would have been well-advised to avert their gave.  I didn't see the injury myself, but this chick kept bleeding like a Deadite in an Evil Dead film.  Panicked that she might be thrown off-set for delaying the shoot, she keep trying to staunch the wound using any stray piece of paper towel, napkins or tissues handed to her.  She even had a couple of guys trying to help her and they were getting her blood all over their hands.  * Barf *


"Quick!" some yahoo shouted.  "This is a Stephen King film!  Get a camera on this!  You can use it!"


Eventually she began to congeal, so we turned out collective attentions back to the business at hand.  This time the camera had been moved to the south side of the graveyard beyond the creepy old tree.  Debra mimed the same actions as before and this additional coverage was captured both quickly and efficiently.

Another odd thing occurred at this time.  Since a lot of people on set that day were way south of age sixty, we had one elderly gentleman who's been standing in the sun experience a fainting spell.  Things ground to a halt as he was escorted off-set and tended to by paramedics.  Eventually he was okay, but he couldn't get clearance to return to the set.  Mercifully he was way in the background so it was determined that his sudden absence wouldn't impact continuity.      

Then, after one last break, we came back down to see that the cameras had been positioned for a low-angle shot down by the side of the casket.  It was pointed directly back towards Rogette, George Footman and the well-dressed gentleman, with me standing just betwixt them.

When the last take was completed the A.D. shouted "That's a wrap!" and we hoofed our way back up the hill.  There weren't a lot of extras on set that day so it didn't take long to have my release paperwork processed.  I was soon on my (very) merry way.  We'd only been shooting for about five hours, which I thought was rather quick and efficient.  I'd done an epic twelve hour day on November Christmas before but also had to admit that what we shot today was considerably less complicated. 

It's odd to write that I left that graveyard on Cloud Nine, but I really did.  Actually I may have even been on Cloud Ten; I won't be sure until the lab report come back.  I was becoming increasingly comfortable and content being on a movie set set.  I was also 100% convinced that being there was "my first best destiny".  Even burdened down with my forty-pound garment bag and hoofing back to the bus stop in the hot sun, I had a spring in my step and a song in my heart.   

Content with my modest involvement in Bag of Bones thus far, I was prepared to put it behind me and move on to something else.  Little did I know that fate for have more in store for me.  There would be fortuitous meetings, involvement in one of the film's biggest scenes and rubbing elbows with the principal cast and crew.

Sometimes life is pretty friggin' cool, people.

EPIC  The original novel by Stephen King, actually one of his best later-day works.

http://www.amazon.com/Bag-Bones-Stephen-King/dp/067102423X

FAIL  Mercifully nothing this bad happened that day.

http://www.oddee.com/item_96604.aspx


            

T.V. or not T.V.? - Part V - The Floodgates Open

Good Day, Prodigious Pursuers of Plasmatic Pleasures.

Well, with the discovery of The Shield, Dexter and Entourage, I suddenly became convinced that cable T.V. could provide quality entertainment of the same caliber as my beloved movies.  I became obsessed with seeking out new small-screen vistas.  I investigated any recommendation from trusted sources and sought out my own leads.

Here are some of my favorite discoveries:

South Park  (1997 to present)

Like everyone else on the planet, I watched the first two seasons of South Park merely for the giddy thrill of hearing a bunch of potty-mouthed kids swear like sailors.  When the South Park movie (featuring the deathless tune "Blame Canada") was released, I assumed that the concept had hit it's high water mark and it would only be downhill from there.  I stopped watching and I fear a slew of other people made the same horrible error that I did.

But when Mark Rose, my intrepid T.V. guru, insisted that the show "really didn't start to get good" until 'round season five, I actually listened to the dude.  He hadn't steered me wrong so far, so I started to watch every single episode starting with season three onward.

And man, am I ever glad I did.

In addition to the already-spicy stable of characters like Mr. Garrison and Cartman, we also got memorable additions like Tweak, Pip, Starvin' Marvin, Timmy, Jimmy, Towelie and, of course, the eternally hapless Butters.  The show also goes after the most timely and ripe targets for ridicule such as Boy Bands ("Something You Can Do With Your Finger"), World of Warcraft ("Make Love, Not Warcraft"), Lord of the Rings ("The Return of the Fellowship of the Ring to the Two Towers") Tom Cruise and Scientology ("Trapped in the Closet" and "The Return of Chef"), censorship ("It Hits The Fan") and Jersey Shore ("It's A Jersey Thing").
 
Due to the way it's produced (episodes can now be turned around in as little as four days), South Park has it's middle finger on the zeitgeist pulse of the nation like no other show.  When something rife for parody rears it's head in the news, creators Trey Parker and Matt Stone can have their characters taking the piss out of it by the end of the week.  For example, the season seven closer "It's Christmas In Canada" referenced the discovery of Saddam Hussain in his "spider hole" a mere three days after it actually happened.

This makes South Park one of the most timely, relevant and relentlessly satirical shows on the air right now.  It's no surprise to me that season friggin' 15 is imminent what with the previous series being just as controversial and edgy as ever.  All you need to do is check out the  explosive "200" and "201" episodes (which threatened to portray Muhammad just to bait a reaction from extremists) as ample supporting evidence.  After all, what other T.V. programs can you think of that incite death threats to the show runners just for being so daring?

I used to love watching an episode or two of this in the morning (http://www.thecomedynetwork.ca/shows/showdetails.aspx?sid=3284) before risking potential brain-death at work.  Unfortunately, it seems as if the show isn't available there anymore.  Is it truly because of "digital rights restrictions" or did The Comedy Network's collective testicles wither and drop off like so much holly berries in the fall?

As great as the aforementioned episodes are, my personal favorite can be found right here:

http://www.in.com/videos/watchvideo-south-park-good-times-with-weapons-4683381.html


Freaks and Geeks     (1999-2000)

Keeping with the comedy theme, I'd always been curious about this show.  This tragically short-lived program from Paul Feig and executive producer Judd Apatow follows the misadventures of wanna-be rebel Lindsay Weir (ER's Linda Cardellini) and her awkward younger brother Sam (John Francis Daley, all growed up now as psychologist Lance Sweets on Bones).  The cast now reads like a veritable "who's who" of young acting talent.

Linda's burnout ne'er-do-well friends make up the show's titular "freak" factor.  Included in this Rogues Gallery are obtuse Neal Peart obsessed drummer Nick Andopolis (Jason Segel), bad boy Daniel Desario (James Franco), wise-ass Ken Miller (Seth Rogen), and reform school bait Kim Kelly (Busy Philipps).  The "geeks" are well-represented by Sam's circle of socially inept buddies including super-nerd Martin Starr as Bill Haverchuck and Samm Levine as the anal-retentive Neal Schweiber.

In it's criminally short eighteen episode run, the writers manged to give these characters some pretty respectable growth.  As Lindsay learns more about herself she realizes that maybe she isn't a prim and proper "mathlete" after all.  It begins to dawn on her that these days only come once in a lifetime and when she falls in with a group of laconic losers, she starts to loosen up a bit.  This immediately puts her at odds with her cool- but-concerned parents who are expertly embodied by Joe Flaherty and Becky Ann Baker.

All of this is set in the questionably tasteful (but still oddly innocent) climate of the 80's.  Unlike, say, That 70's Show which just seemed to use that decade to trot out comically antiquated fashions or provide lazy story hooks,  Freaks and Geeks really feels like a genuine product of the time.  Having grown up in that decade, I can say with tremendous satisfaction that the show's trappings are never just used to say "Hey!  Look how retro this is!"  Indeed, the background details are barely even referenced, which really adds to the authenticity.

I really identify with this stellar little show.  Although my genuine interest in heavy metal and dedicated slackage had me relating to the show's "freaks" I was much closer to Sam's age at the time and as a result I really felt for the dweeby Star Wars and Dungeons & Dragons-obsessed younger kids.  In fact, to this day, I'm convinced that they modeled the character of Neal after my buddy Stuart.  Indeed, Sam is certainly in a different social strata then his much older sister and subsequently he's struggling with issues far removed from hers.

It's difficult to find a clip of this that hasn't been neutered by music copyright laws.  Mercifully, unlike W.K.R.P.in Cincinnati which was horrendously butchered on DVD, the boxed set for Freaks and Geeks lovingly keeps most of  the evocative music of the show intact.  This includes, but isn't limited to, the inspired use of Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation" for the title theme.

Here's a clip from the first episode of this awesome little show:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ai1FHufz_HY

One word of warning: if you're anything like me, you'll get really attached to these characters and may attempt to strangle more episodes out of your television set when the credits start rolling on episode eighteen.  Although the story came to something resembling a natural stop, the character's ultimate fates are still up in the air, especially in Lindsay's case.  It's so good, I wish the original writers would be kind enough to produce a series of novels just to let us know how it all worked out. 

Firefly (2002-2003)

When Buffy The Vampire Slayer was put out to pasture, series creator Joss Whedon responded with Firefly, one of the most wildly original and witty sci-fi shows of all time.  The premise: a ragtag crew of nine misfits, led by a captain and first officer who were on the losing side of a nasty civil war, travel along the wild frontiers of deep space in a temperamental ship called the Serenity.  All the while they desperately try to avoid arrest by the authorities, extricate themselves from sour deals with intergalactic dirtbags and evade certain death at the hands of the cannibalistic Reavers.

Like Buffy and Angel, Whedon assembled a fantastic cast here.  Nathan Fillion is perfect as Malcolm "Mal" Reynolds, a smuggler and veteran with a checkered past who's quick to shoot first and ask questions later.  He's brings the perfect mix of swagger, braggadocio, wry humor and a healthy sense of self-preservation to the role.  Gina Torres is stalwart as Zoe, Mal's first officer.  Accurately described as a "warrior woman" by her husband Wash, she's certainly someone you want to have on your side of a scrap.

Wash, played by Alan Tudyk, is my favorite character.  He's the Serenity's more-than-able pilot, and can always be relied upon to crack wise even when it looks as if all is lost.  His very first scene from the pilot episode gives you a sample of the inspired humor headed our way:



The superb ensemble is rounded out by Adam Baldwin as the morally ambiguous and slightly dim enforcer Jayne, the ludicrously gorgeous Morena Baccarin as the regal Companion Inara Serra, Ron Glass as Derrial Book a wise and tranquil Shepherd, sexy Summer Glau as the enigmatic and dangerous River Tam, Sean Maher as her physician brother Simon and super-cute Jewel Staite as "Kaylee" Frye, the ship's mechanic.

With Firefly, Whedon continues to deliver crackerjack dialogue, clever self-contained stories, and an intriguing over-reaching story arc.  He also manages to generate more three-dimensional characterization in one abbreviated season than Star Trek: The Next Generation did in it's first four years.

The pinhead executives at Fox must have the attention spans of a friggin' chipmunk.  Not given any time whatsoever to find it's audience, Firefly joined several other creative and daring "time slot shuffle" casualties as Millennium, Greg The Bunny, The Adventures of Brisco County Jr. and the live-action Tick series.  Boooo!!!!  

I do have a bit of a confession, though.  At first the show's western frontier trappings, vaguely corn pone theme song and the predilection of the characters to break into a hybrid Cantonese/English patois kinda put me off.  Also hobbling the initial experience for me (and presumably millions of other potential viewers) was the fact that Fox, in it's infinite wisdom, decided to air the second episode first.  Hmmmm, do you think that maybe, just maybe, it would have been wise to air the friggin' thing in chronological order!?  Like every other successful story ever told?    

I'm tellin' ya, it's not brain surgery but perhaps a few of the suits at Fox could benefit from a bit o' cranial tinkering.

When you watch from the pilot episode the odd stylistic choices make thematic sense (go figure).  For example, the characters occasionally speak with this odd dialect because Whedon wisely predicted China's emerging status as a future global superpower.  And although the franchise lives on in a theatrical feature (2005's Serenity) and a series of comic books, you can't help but wonders what heights this program would have soared to is someone at the network had just a little bit more vision.  Or any at all for that matter.          

Speaking of shows canceled before their time, here's another gem:
       



Veronica Mars   (2004-2007)            

Starring the delightful Kristen Bell as the titular sleuth, Veronica Mars is like a fusion of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, My So-Called Life and a good Raymond Chandler novel.  Veronica has learned quite a bit through osmosis growing up as the daughter of a very adept private investigator.  She uses her prodigious investigative skills to solve mysteries in the town of Neptune, California, all the while trying to navigate the typical pitfalls that only incarceration in High School can provide.

Throughout three seasons, creator Rob Thomas expertly wove together one excellent "case of the week" story after another into consistently twisty season-spanning plot lines.  Each and every script is like an individual gem and will certainly have anyone spazzing out on two or three episodes in a row.  Any concerns you may have about this falling into Nancy Drew territory will be instantly shattered as soon as you get kicked in the teeth by the punchy, laconic dialogue.  The supporting characters (particularly Jason Dohring's Logan and Tina Majorino's Mac) are all incredibly three dimensional and in season one, we're also treated to a superb performance by Amanda Seyfried as Veronica's ill-fated, free spirit best friend Lilly Kane.

But at it's heart is Kristen Bell, who's so good in this role it's scary.  Her scenes with Enrico Colantoni (who plays her dad Keith) are among the most genuine and honest father/daughter moments I've ever witnessed in any medium.  In a world in which teenage girls have such dubious role models as Ke$ha, and Miley Cyrus it's a shame that there couldn't be more examples of smart and independent young women like Veronica in real life.  I still keep hoping that, one day, the rumored Veronica Mars feature film will re-unite this fantastic creative team and give us more mysteries to unravel.  

If the show has any failing at all, it's that the first season is just so fresh and flawless that the next two series seem marginally weaker in comparison.  I'm not saying that they were mediocre, far from it, but when you start with perfection, often there isn't anywhere else to go.  But pound for pound, even the third season of Veronica Mars is stronger than 98% of what passes for prime time network television.

Battlestar Galactica   (2004-2009)



Y'know, I was as much a fan of the original Battlestar Galactica as an eight-year old kid could have been,  so when I first heard about this "re-imagining" the first three things I thought were (in order):

1. 'Um, as much as I liked the original it was cheesier then a mozzarella stick dipped in Gruyere fondue.  Can they actually make this cool for modern, more sophisticated audiences?'
2. 'Are we all so creatively bankrupt that you have to remake a twenty-five year old sci-fi series which you could argue was just a thinly-veiled Star Wars rip-off?'
3. 'Starbuck's a chick?!'

But when I started to hear the impossibly good word I didn't hesitate to take up a co-worker's offer to watch the first season.

Sweet jeezum crow, it was criminally awesome.  In fact, far better then a show called Battlestar Galactica ever had a right to be.  Frankly I dare anyone to watch the miniseries and then the first episode ("33") without becoming a die-hard fan.  This is solidified by a "what the eff?" season one finale, a truly stupendous episode in the middle of season two called "Pegasus" and a gutsy one-year jump in the shows chronology which will have you scrambling to start the third series.   

So what makes the show so great?  First off, the insightful writing is positively rife with subtext.  The show features religious zealotry, suicide bombings, sleeper agents, prisoner torture, and debates about suspending civil liberties in a time of crisis.  If there is any show out there that has half as much to say about our post 9-11 world, I'd challenge you to find it.    

Also, the program's modest budget (especially in the first season) actually adds a tremendous sense of gritty realism to the proceedings.  Although the "hand held" cinematography is a tad overwrought sometimes, it does effectively convey a real cinéma vérité style that's normally anathema in so many cheddery sci-fi shows (including it's late-Seventies parent).  In fact, all of the stereotypical trappings of sci-fi that non-genre fans can point to as a failing (stupid props, lame sets, goofy gold lamé outfits, gratuitous references the "space/time continuum" and/or "dilithium assballs") are completely absent from this show.  In fact, you could even argue in some ways, that it barely qualifies as sci-fi.

The great cast really shines armed with such "A"-list material.  Edward James Olmos makes for a world-weary and charismatic Commander Adama.  He's capable of making the tough decisions and inspiring people to follow him, but it's fascinating to watch the crisis conveyor belt eventually take it's toll on him.  Micheal Hogan is tremendous as Galactica's flinty, alcoholic executive officer Saul Tigh.  Just compare his expanded role to what poor Terry Carter had to work with in the original series.  Mary McDonnell's charm makes Laura Roslin one of my favorite characters.  When the cylons wipe out the governing body of the humans, this unlikely education minister becomes president.  Of everything.  Overnight.  She's understandably shell-shocked at first, but rises to the occasion admirably.  And frankly, I'm glad Starbuck's a chick, especially when that chick is the quirky, unconventional and gleefully self-destructive Katee Sackhoff.

British actor Jamie Bamber boasts a flawless Pan-Galactic American accent as the new Apollo.  His character experiences some of the most ambitious changes amongst the cast and he's more than capable of seeing this through.  James Callis as the twitchy, constantly perspiring traitor Gaius Baltar is perhaps the greatest foil in television history.  Also, although much can be said about super-slinky sexy cylon (try saying that five times really quick) Tricia Helfer as Six, Grace Part as Boomer and cute-as-a-button Nicki Clyne as Cally really stole my heart.

There are also scads of fun guest starring appearances.  "Fans" of mediocre mid-80's Canadian television will instantly recognize former Danger Bay alumni Donnelly Rhodes, who plays Galactica's resident chain-smoking sawbones Major Sherman "Doc" Cottle.  A certain "Warrior Princess" of some regard has a recurring role as a fleet reported with dubious motivations.  Always great Dean Stockwell is also a welcome addition of the cast when he shows up as Brother Cavil, the worlds crankiest and most enigmatic priest.

Sci-fi fan or otherwise, you owe it to yourself to give this show a spin.  I loved it so much I bought the company.  Er, the DVD's I mean.            

Although the mythology of the show does get a bit existential in the end, frankly I think that just adds to the show's repeat viewing appeal.  It's one of the best folks, trust me on this one.

I've got one more part for this series comin' down the pike, so stay tuned and thanks fer readin'! 

EPIC:

 

FAIL:  Wow...just...wow.
http://www.cbsc.ca/english/decisions/2011/110223.php

T.V. or not T.V.? - Part IV - My First Step Into A Larger World

Greetings and Felicitations, T.V. Mavens!

For those of you who've been following along at home, you may have gotten the impression that my last job really sucked.  It did at the end, but it wasn't always that way.  Over the course of four years my assignment as an account manager for a major American office supply retailer took me from individual salesman to a glorified, pre-programmed auto-dialer.

We had ridiculous targets to hit.  We had to call one business after another in the hopes of successfully regurgitating as much of our intrusive, virtually-scripted sales pitch at our customers before they rushed us off the phone.  Since our message was about as welcome as a pair of impeccably dressed kids at your door asking if you've accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior, it was almost impossible to keep them on the phone for longer then three minutes.

Despite how off-putting these transparently mercenary calls were to our trusted contacts, we still had to touch base with 28 people every day and complete this stilted, color-by-numbers dialogue with them.  If we failed in this goal we didn't get a dime of commission and might also begin to see progressive discipline leveled against us, including (but not limited to) verbal warnings, written reprimands for our permanent record, and random beatings presumably instituted to improve morale. 

Naturally, between the stress of this and the fact that we were all crammed into a space that would make lemmings feel claustrophobic, escapist conversations were de rigueur.  In fact, we took every possible opportunity to talk about anything but our lousy, mind-numbing, repetitive jobs, arguably even more then we should have.  I think we did it for the same reason that a person without money wants to buy stuff all the time just to prove that they aren't poor.

One of our more popular topics was television.  Now, by the mid-to-late 2000's (in which this long-winded preamble is set), T.V. had fallen into a real quagmire of demeaning reality shows and toothless sitcoms.  After all, we were now seeing such IQ-plummeting offal as Flavor of Love,  Cavemen, and Fat Dude, Hot Wife...er, I mean According to Jim/King of Queens/Still Standing...etc, etc.

I remember openly declaring to everyone in my aisle (picture a series of adjoined kennel pens in a dog pound)  that "the reality-show-glutted, prime-time network television vista was nothing but a vast wasteland".

And that's when Mark Rose made me eat my words.

A brash, opinionated, entertainment connoisseur, Mark would often engage me in heated debates about the minutia of pop-culture.  The verbal donnybrooks that often resulted were often very cathartic.  Only now do I realize how important these dialogues were to staving off brain death resulting from interchangeable banal conversations with our customers or having to listen to the incessant bleating of soccer moms about the merits of American Idol or The Bachelor.

People sitting within earshot would witness our little U.N. style debates and marvel:

"My God, you guys know way too much about this stuff.  You're always blurting out the most obscure and twisted stuff about music, movies, television..."

"Yeah," I said in reply to Mark.  "It's like we've got 'entertainment tourette's syndrome'..."

Anyway, on that particular day, Mark wasn't about to let me off the hook with my broad proclamation that all television was crap.

"I'm gonna bring in a few episodes of a show that I want you to watch.  I'll bet you any money that you'll like it so much, it'll single-handedly change your perception about what a television show is capable of."

"Sure, whatever, pal," I loudly dismissed with a wave of my hand.  "But get ready to eat your words; I haven't seen a decent show on television since Buffy and Angel went off the air."

Mark practically laughed in my face.

"Yeah, well, what you watch tomorrow night will make those shows look like crap."

For the sake full disclosure, this was the show he was boasting about:



And deservedly so.  I dare you to watch the ending of the first episode of The Shield and then not burn through a slew of episodes every night like it's the entertainment version of a tube of Pringles.

Former Angel producer Shawn Ryan created in The Shield one of the most gritty, multi-faceted, morally complicated television programs I'd ever had the pleasure of watching before or since.

The show is set in the very troubled fictional Farmington district in Los Angeles.  Gang activity is rife, drugs flow like water and nut bars of every single persuasion walk the streets.  Into this is thrust a four-man Strike Team charged with cleaning up the streets.  It's led by Detective Vic Mackey: law enforcement's answer to a charging bull moose.  Although Vic's arrest record is impressive and he really is single-handedly lowering the area's crime rates, no-one really wants to know how much of a train wreck he is just below the surface.

But as an omnipotent audience member, we're privy to all things Vic, including his Lemmy-sized personality warts.  He's a womanizer, his family is falling apart, he's hot-tempered, hard-headed, abusive, violent and prone to routine tortuous brutality.  And, then, of course, there's the most difficult thing to reconcile about Vic: he gets results.  

Anyone who still sees Michael Chiklis as The Commish or The Thing from that excremental Fantastic Four movie needs to watch this show, stat to wash the taste of those bland characterizations out of their mouths.  It's high testimony to the actor's ability that, despite being possessed of some really repugnant qualities, he still manages to engender considerably sympathy amongst viewers.  When I was plowing through the show I'd often times catch myself actually rooting for Vic to extricate himself from the binds he put himself into. 

In addition to Chiklis serving as a solid anchor, the show benefits from a truly charismatic supporting cast.  Catherine Dent as Officer Danielle Sofer doesn't always make the best choices, but that's what makes her realistic and relatable.  Paula Garcés as Officer Tina Hanlon does a masterful job trying to convey the unique challenges of a female cop in a predominantly testosterone-fueled realm.  Speaking of challenges, Officer Julien Lowe, who's portrayed expertly by Michael Jace, is a character with a strong Catholic faith who struggles to excise his latent homosexual desires.

Shawn Ryan's real-life squeeze, Cathy Cahlin Ryan, is completely convincing as Vic's long-suffering ex-wife Corrine.  Slack, lazy and opportunistic Detective Billings as played by David Marciano is such an infuriating bastard that you just count the seconds for his comeuppance.  Benito Martinez brings an alternately aggressive and twitchy approach to the role of ambitious councilman David Aceveda.  Something happens to his character half way through the run of the show that's so joltingly awful that it's difficult to process.

The Strike Team that serves as Vic's most guarded and insular allies (at least in theory) are also a colorful and ethically shaky lot. Walton Goggins is superb as good ole' boy Shane Vendrell.  Shane is occasionally capable of loose-cannon bravery but he's also a sucker for easy women and readily available narcotics.  The more he tries to emulate Vic's ability to extricate himself from tight spots, the more he tends to bury himself.

Kenny Johnson's Curtis Lemansky is Beavis to Vic's Butt-Head.  He a sweet, sensitive character that's swept up in the Strike Team's more unsavory pursuits mainly due to his history with and loyalty to the others.  As per the thematic drive of the show, "Lem's" desire to do the right thing ultimately leads to disastrous results.

Ronnie Gardocki (David Rees Snell) is the most utilitarian member of the Strike Team.  He's an interesting cat, kinda like that quiet person at work that you're around for eight hours every day but you still barely know anything about them.  He's competent, fearless, level-headed and intensely committed to the other members of the team.  His only hubris: believing that Vic will be as stalwart as he would be when his own ass is on the line.


But my favorite characters certainly have to be Claudette Wyms and  Holland "Dutch" Wagenbach, played by CCH Pounder and Jay Karnes respectively.  The two make for an unlikely but highly effective investigative partnership.  Claudette is the conscience and soul of the department.  Although sometimes she's ruled by her passions, she's a brilliant interrogator, a three-dimensional thinker and a highly competent administrator.  Revelations about her health mid-way though the run of the show is appropriately heartbreaking and there are no tidy resolutions.  The Shield, just like real life, certainly doesn't play favorites with the traditionally "good" characters.

Dutch is a learned and tireless investigative savant, but he's often frustrated when his theories don't translate to the unpredictable real world.  He's a bit socially retarded and his recurring soft spot for bad 80's pop music makes for some rare moments of levity in the show.  Towards the end of the program's seven season run, Dutch begins to realize that everything isn't quite as black and white as he first thought it was.  This comes to a head when he matches wits with a teenager whom he believes is a burgeoning serial killer.

Rounded out by a veritable rogues gallery of amazing guest stars (Glenn Close, Forest Whitaker, Anthony Anderson spring to mind for starters), frighteningly authentic production design and excellent hand-held camerawork which effectively conveys a constant sense of unease and documentary-like realism, The Shield still stands as my all-time favorite dramatic television show.

As if to underscore just how right he was, Mark's next revelation came in the form of this HBO gem:



Entourage has a giddy amount of fun breaking through television's "fourth wall".  Allegedly based on "Marky" Mark Walberg's inexplicably meteoric rise to fame, it centers around Vincent Chase (Adrian Grenier), a charismatic pretty-boy from Queens, New York who, through some lucky bounces, becomes an A-list movie star.  He moves out to Hollywood, California and brings along a parcel of childhood hanger-on's with him.  The titular Entourage consists of his terminally frustrated manager Eric Murphy (Kevin Connolly), his gofer/driver of dubious worth Salvatore "Turtle" Assante (Jerry Ferrara) and Vinnie's older brother Johnny (Kevin Dillon).

The chemistry and banter between our four intrepid heroes is completely seamless.  The actors inhabit their roles so expertly that at no time does it ever feel like your watching someone "act".  I think I relate to this show so much because it reminds me of the questionable chicanery and fraternal bonds of brotherhood that living in university residence provides.  I know for a fact that if I suddenly became as rich and influential as Vinnie here, I'd certainly have my own ersatz support system around me.

It's a hilarious show because you can just see how much these guys relish their new lives.  You can only imagine how much insanity can occur when you take a bunch of arrested development a-holes, put them in decadent L.A. and then give them as much money and vice as their constitutions will allow.

The writers also have a blast playing with show business conventions.  Vincent has to contend with flighty indie directors, a slush-pile of crap scripts, a big-budget superhero flick (helmed by James Cameron, natch!), adoring female fans with questionable motivations and the constant debate of art versus commerce.

My favorite character has to be Kevin Dillon's Johnny "Drama".  Johnny actually found fame years before his little brother thanks to a little seen, cheezy sci-fi/fantasy series called Viking Quest.   In addition to kicking off his career, playing Thorvald in Viking Quest also apparently killed it.   When the first season of Entourage begins, Johnny hasn't worked a proper acting gig in years so he's currently riding on his little brother's lengthy coat-tails and acting as his "personal chef and trainer".

It's with a giddy sense of fun that we watch Johnny's career slowly experience something of a resurgence and even threaten to overtake that of his fraternal meal ticket.  Alas, Thorvald's oft-heard battle cry of "VICTORY!" is something Johnny doesn't get to a chance to say very frequently as the seasons ream by.

And, of course, who can talk about Entourage without mentioning Jeremy Piven's brilliant turn as the excitable, avaricious, scheming uber-agent Ari Gold?  Here's just a sample of some of his finer moments:

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

As if the first two recommendations weren't enough to prove Mark's case beyond a shadow of a doubt, he promptly took my tunnel-visioned anti-T.V. stance into a isolated room, tied it to a table with Saranwrap, nicked it on the cheek with a scalpel, eviscerated it, put the bits into garbage bags and then threw it off the side of his boat in the Florida keys.  If case you haven't puzzled out my lame, hyper-extended metaphor by now, please know that I'm referring, of course, to this stellar little program:



The premise for Dexter just makes you wonder why someone didn't come up with it earlier.  Dexter was horribly traumatized as a child when he witnessed his beloved mother's gruesome murder.  Orphaned by the tragedy, he was adopted by Harry Morgan, the cop that found him.  As he begins to grow up, Dexter's odd behavioral tells are noticed by his foster father, who decides to try and channel the boy's dark side towards something constructive.  From there on in, the hallowed "Code of Harry" dictates that Dexter can only ever prey upon the most undesirable elements of society like a serial killer vigilante.

Now, no-one can really claim that there's never been an example of sympathetic serial killers (witness Hannibal Lecter and Johnny The Homicidal Maniac for starters) but the titular focus of this show is constantly struggling to retain a facade of normalcy.  He has an ironic, yet logical, career as a forensic blood-spatter specialist.  He's a reliable and straight-laced foundation for his sister Deb.  He's a dutiful boyfriend to the damaged-goods Rita and her winsome, adoring kids.

But he also murders scores of people in the most horrific manner imaginable.  Which brings us back to The Shield's climate of moral ambiguity.  Do the ends truly justify the means here?  And, if so, how does that reflect on us, the audience?

The cast is phenomenal.  Michael C. Hall strikes a pitch perfect balance between perfidious murderer and charming everyman as the eponymous anti-hero.  Jennifer Carpenter, who's proved her acting chops before in such challenging roles as The Exorcism of Emily Rose, excels as Dexter's potty-mouthed, dogged sister who seems to keep falling for the wrong guy.  Once can't help but wonder if life imitated art somewhat when the two leads defied fictional taboos and married in 2007 and then promptly divorced three years later.

Two more supporting actors deserve special mention.  I make no secret about my love for Julie Benz and no one can slight Dexter for wanting to take care of her.  Also Erik King is fascinating as Sgt. Doakes, who seems to be the only one on the police force who has the ability to see through Dexter's machinations.  His humorously dogged attempts to bully Dexter into betraying his true nature is just one of the many reasons why  the second season of this show might represent the best television I've ever seen.        

These three revelatory shows sent me on a quest to find my own small screen gems.  Up until Mark's intervention, I'd been perfectly content to write off television as a vast wasteland, but after my own cursory investigations, the floodgates opened up and I suddenly found myself inundated with an unexpected wellspring of entertainment value.

Thank you, sir.

EPIC:
    

FAIL:  Roll Call for a Dark Time...

http://www.tvsquad.com/2009/12/11/feature-page-10-1

T.V. or not T.V.? - Part III - Hope Springs Eternal

Bonjour, Mes Amis!

Despite lamenting the amount of time I'd spent watching the boob tube as a kid, every once in a blue moon a television show would come down the pike that would re-instate my faith that not all programs were craptacular.

The show that forever changed my perception of what prime time television could be capable of was David Lynch's Twin Peaks (1990-1991):

Every episode of this show was like a brilliant short film.  The murder of Laura Palmer and the hunt for her killer kept audiences on pins and needles for two seasons.  The labyrinthine plot, memorable dialogue, evocative soundtrack, iconic imagery and host of quirky and darkly humorous characters always seemed oddly out of place on prime time T.V., especially when juxtaposed against crap like Perfect Strangers and Major Dad.

Nowadays, Twin Peaks would have been better served as, say, a finite HBO miniseries.  After all, it dealt with some pretty harrowing subject matter: murder, assault, drug addiction, prostitution, spousal abuse, and moments of abject terror (courtesy of uber-bogeyman Killer Bob).  In many ways it was kinda like Blue Velvet: The Series.  Despite (or perhaps because of) the dark subject matter, Twin Peaks wormed its way into the zeitgeist of pop culture and became an unlikely hit.  So much so that a handful of us living in residence at the time became obsessed with trying to figure out who killed Laura Palmer, even purchasing and pouring over her tie-in diary book release.

Regrettably, the show's producers decided mid-way through the second season that people had been tortured enough and let the cat out of the bag.  As expected, the revelation was psychologically punishing and kept right in line with the show's assertion that every small town has more then it's share of skeleton-filled closets.

Although brilliant, by disclosing the central mystery plot, the show's raison d'etre melted away like air from a tire.  I stayed to the end, still fascinated with the show's turn towards the philosophical and the paranormal.  But most of the audience had tuned out and the cliffhanger at the end of Season Two was never resolved.

Twin Peaks really deserves tremendous praise for moving television away from its perception, whether real or imagined, as a ghetto medium.  I really believe that the keen aesthetics of the show (cinematography, scripting, performances) really had a positive impact on modern-day HBO-style television dramas.             

In my opinion, nothing really worthwhile came down the pike until two years later when I first heard the following haunting strains:

Xfiles intro
Uploaded by deathnetworks. - News videos from around the world.

So began a six year love affair with one of the ballsyist, quirkiest, funniest, scariest shows ever to grace the glass teat.  "Wait!" I can hear you saying out there, "X-Files lasted for eight seasons!" to which I would reply: "Nope.  Not in my book."

Sadly, X-Files was partly undone by David Duchovny, who practically held the show runners hostage by threatening to leave if the entire production didn't up and migrate from atmospheric (but incessantly rainy) Vancouver, to sunny California where "Double D" could be closer to his wife Tea Leone.

Well, the show eventually did move, losing a tremendous amount of character in the process.  It still managed to crank out the goods for another two seasons until Duchovny decided he was going to take his ball and go home anyway at the conclusion of Season Seven.  But as much as I think that Duchovny's a bit of a d-bag, his presence on the show was sorely missed and it really hobbled the proceedings somewhat.

But before that happened, X-Files was a real winner.  The one-off M.O.T.W. (that's Monster of The Week for the uninformed) episodes could be uproariously funny (like "Bad Blood" or "Jose Chung's From Outer Space") or scare the friggin' poop out of you (witness "Home" or "Folie a Deux").  And the so-called "mythology" eps dealing with the government concealing plans from the unsuspecting public about aliens colonizing earth, were always a treat for die-hard X-Philes who wanted to see just how much farther the rabbit hole could go.

But, as much as I want to bash Duchovny for ruining X-Files, it's the show runners and writers that eventually resulted in this:

There was a time when I had the mythology and all of it's players (the colonists, the alien bounty hunters, the black oil, the rebels) but eventually you got the distinct impression that the writers themselves were painting themselves into a corner.  Eventually the mythology collapsed under it's own convoluted weight.

The real death knell came when the entire impetus of the show, I.E. Fox Mulder's quest to discover what happened to his sister, was dispatched in the ironically named episode "Closure" which saddled the character with a very mundane and decidedly terrestrial fate.  Boo-urns

Nevertheless, for treating audiences as if they were smart enough to remember what happened two episodes ago (not to mention accelerating the role of women in television into the 20'th century courtesy of the courageous, intelligent and resourceful incarnation of Gillian Anderson as Dana Scully), The X-Files deserves some major props.

A few years ticked by and I really saw nothing else to catch my attention.  I recall one night when I was sitting at my computer playing Warcraft I caught my soon-to-be-proven-infinitely-smarter wife watching a new show featuring former soap star Sarah Michelle Gellar wrestling with a stuntman wearing some kind of facial appliance like a overwrought Bajoran on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.

That show was Buffy The Vampire Slayer:  (1997-2003)

I actually remember tormenting her by saying: (in my most pompous British accent): "Honestly, My Deah, why do you persist in watching such tripe?"

"It's a good show!" she'd shout back.

"S-u-u-u-u-re it is," I sniffed, turning my nose up and immersing myself back into the infinitely more mature world of Azaroth.

It wasn't until I got into a heated argument with a hardcore Buffy fan at work before I decided to give the show a whirl.

"But you've gotta watch it from the first episode!" she wailed.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's gonna make all the difference," I said, rolling my eyes.

But I'm not one to pass up free potential entertainment value so when she offered to bring in her VHS (!) copy of the pilot, I gave it a spin.  Although the show's production values looked a little dodgy, I could easily look beyond that in light of the rampant wise-assery on display from the characters.

Case in point, I love this line by rich-bitch Cordelia to nerdy Willow:

"Willow! Nice dress! Good to know you've seen the softer side of Sears."

After hearing this (and toiling away at Sears at the time) I decided on the spot that this was surely the greatest television show ever created.

It became the only show that I went out of my way to watch religiously.  Regardless of where we were or what we were doing that day, you could rest assured that Monday (then Tuesday) night I'd be ensconced in front of the T.V., getting a status report from Buffy and her Scooby Gang as they squared off against what ever Big Bad the current season was throwing their way.

Series creator Joss Whedon is a frikkin' genius.  Not only did the word-play of his characters reflect the vibrant, informal and innovative way in which young people could sometime speak, it actually changed our language.  Witness the following clever quotes:

Xander: "I laugh in the face of danger. And then I hide until it goes away."

Riley:  "Besides, 'I'm here to violate your firstborn' never goes over with parents. Not sure why."

Buffy: “Because I don’t trust you. You’re a vampire. Oh, I’m sorry, was that an offensive term? Should I say ‘undead American’?”

Spike: "You Englishmen are always so...Bloody hell! Sodding, blimey, shagging, knickers, bollocks, oh God! I'm English!"

Dawn: ""It's like there's a meat party in my mouth. Wow, I'm young and even I know how wrong that sounds."

Willow: "It's horrible. That's me as a vampire? I'm so evil and skanky. And I think I'm kind of gay."

Angelus: "I wanna torture you.  I used to love it, and it's been such a long time.  I mean, the last time I tortured someone, they didn't even have chainsaws."

Giles: "He's clearly a bad influence on himself". 

Now as funny and original as the dialogue was, the show was also responsible for adding now-famous phrases to our lexicon, like: " What’s your damage?", "Morbid much?" or brilliantly transforming proper nouns into verbs, such as when Xander asks plaintively: "Does anyone feel like we’ve been Keyser Sozed?".  It's always a high testimony to the writers when the lines they forge worm their way into our everyday discourse.

Joss Whedon is one of the best nuts-n'-bolts writers out there right now.  In addition to having an ear for clever dialogue he's also quite adept at crafting a solid, stand-alone forty minute episode as well as building a compelling story arc throughout twenty-two episodes.  In fact, the second and third seasons of the show still stand as one of my all-time favorite television experiences EVAR.

Whedon also loves to screw around with audience expectations.  Who would have thought that a show called Buffy The Vampire Slayer would feature such genuinely unnerving fare as the mostly silent episode "Hush"?  Or produce an entire soundtrack loaded with ear-worms in the musical episode "Once More With Feeling"?  Or put audiences through an emotional wringer and evoked David Lynchian-levels of discord with the tragic demise of Buffy's mom in "The Body"?

The man is a masochist when it comes to creating a beloved character and them killing with the same neutral regard Alfred Hitchcock had for Janet Leigh.   

A lot of credit is also due to the show's three principal actors.  Sarah Michelle Gellar's  Buffy went from vapid valley girl to motivated leader.  Alyson Hannigan's shy and sweet Willow overcame terrible self-doubt, went over to the "Dark Side" at one point and was redeemed in the end.  Nicholas Brendon's Xander evolved nicely from a dorky, wise-cracking fifth wheel to an undead-killing morale officer.

The real testament to the show is the variety of answers you'll get from fans when asked who their favorite characters are.  Even second-tier players like the Billy Idol-esque vamp Spike, laconic Oz, stuffy Watcher Giles, tough and sexy alterna-Slayer Faith, bitchy Cordelia, brutally blunt Anya and sensitive Tara have massive followings.

The show peaked early with a stellar third season which saw the kids graduate from High School and battle the town's incongruously germ-phobic, demonic Mayor.  Although the last four seasons weren't quite as good in comparison, I've always said that relatively weak episodes of Buffy was still better then 90% of everything else on television.

It could be argued that the show took a dip in quality when Whedon and company decided to spin the character of Angel off into his own show.  Frankly, I can't get behind that, mainly because the show that resulted (aptly titled Angel 1999-2004) almost eclipsed my love for its parent.

Let's be upfront here, folks: Twilight totally ripped off these shows.  Angel was the original tortured vampire, but unlike Edward Cullen, he wasn't a whingey, emo twat about it.  In fact, his original incarnation of Angelus was a ripe evil bastard, who cut a swath of death and misery across the globe before gypsies cursed him with a soul.  Now burdened by a conscience, Angel attempts to reconcile himself for his past transgressions, "help the helpless" as atonement and puzzle out if he's doing good by choice or because of divine intervention. 

All throughout the first season and a half of Buffy, the relationship between Angel and the titular Slayer slowly evolved into a burgeoning romance.  Whedon and his script-writers continued to give us brief glimpses into  Angel's dark past as one of the most sadistic and evil vampires in history.  But we got a helluva lot more than flashbacks when Buffy and Angel consummated their relationship midway through season two.  By experiencing a moment of "pure happiness" the gypsy curse is revoked and Angel reverts back to his soulless persona.

For the balance of season two we get to see just how unremittingly nasty Angelus truly is.  He gleefully terrorizes Buffy and her friends, murders Giles' main squeeze Jenny Calender and attempts to destroy the world by raising a demon.  Tragically, Buffy delivers a killing blow and sends Angel to H-E-double hockey sticks just as neophyte witch Willow manages to re-instate his soul.

I'm tellin' ya, this is some classic, Shakespearean, tragic star-cross'ed lovers s$#% right here!

Well, of course, Angel eventually comes back but he decides to leave town when being so close to his forbidden love proved to be just too torturous.  So, he re-locates to Los Angeles and opens up a supernatural detective agency with the aid of several Buffy alumni and an Irish half-demon with psychic powers named Doyle (Glenn Quinn).  Over the course of six seasons, our heroes struggle as pawns of the fickle Powers That Be as they face off against such diverse opponents as the more-evil-then-average law firm Wolfram & Hart, Angel's twisted sire Darla and the demonic Beast.

Whedon brought his stellar penchant for character development to Angel as well.   As the titular character, David Boreanaz went from a brooding, laconic, loner to a leader, father (!) and a true champion.  Charisma Carpenter completed her evolution as Cordelia Chase, going from superficial and snotty to heroic and self-sacrificing.  J. August Richard's Charles Gunn transformed from street slayer to suave executive.  And in a heart-rending twist the benevolent and prescient lounge-singing demon Lorne (the late Andy Hallett) was finally forced to embrace his considerable dark side.      

But perhaps the most amazing transformation was that of Wesley Windam-Price, as portrayed by Alexis Denisof.  The character was first introduced on Buffy as a know-it-all replacement Watcher, essentially a foil for Giles.  He was portrayed as pompous, inflexible and completely useless.  Except for his intrinsic value for comedic effect, fans despised him.  So, naturally, when he first turned up on Angel driving a motorbike, clad in leather and referring to himself as a "Rogue Demon Hunter", you could almost hear a chorus of disappointed groans.

But then something amazing happened.  Over the course of five seasons, Whedon and company subjected the character to unimaginable torment.  He gets tortured, shot, ends up in wheelchair, gets his heart shattered and even manages to generate audience sympathy when he's forced to betray his friends.  These heady twists (not to mention Denisof's consistently strong performances) turned the character of Wesley into a grizzled, world-weary veteran and, subsequently, a fan favorite.      

Also I can't talk about the cast without mentioning the winsome and super-cute Amy Acker as Winnifred "Fred" Burkle.  Talk about your character transformations!  Amy is a delight to watch as she takes Fred from socially stunted hermit to nerd hottie to prime real estate for demonic possession.  Again, here's another example of Whedon taking a sweet, innocent, shy character and really putting them through the proverbial wringer.

Begging the question is there a more sadistic writer then Joss Whedon?  Hmmmmm.  Well, maybe Ken Follett....  

Whereas Buffy started to flag a little bit in it's later seasons, the quality of Angel just kept getting better and better.  Unfortunately the show's so-so ratings always kept it on the bubble of cancellation.  As you can imagine, the show runners soon became weary of the network's incessant eleventh hour renewals.  Rumor has it that when Joss Whedon tried to play hardball with the network to get confirmation for a season six (and ensure members of his cast and crew didn't turn down jobs ) the then-head of the WB network Jordan Levin called back the next morning and told him they were done.

According to head writer David Fury:  "I guarantee that, if we waited as we normally did, by the time May had come around they would have picked up Angel. I can guarantee that."  He also said that not long after "The WB said that it was a big mistake to cancel Angel."  Kinda sad that one of my all-time favorite television shows ultimately became a casualty due to a game of "ratings chicken" between frustrated artistic types and corporate pinheads.    

What followed in the mid-to-late 2000's only served to justify my opinion that the reality-show glutted prime-time network television vista was nothing but a vast wasteland.

But little did I know, there was still a promise of hope.  In 2006, a former co-worker became my television Jedi Master and I would soon take my first tentative steps into a larger world.

EPIC:


ALSO IN THE EPIC CATEGORY: Clip for a proposed Buffy animated series. It's still not too late, people!



RESEMBLING SOMETHING EPIC:  Don't even bother watching this unless you've seen at least one episode of Twin Peaks.  Look for Conan O'Brien as a Deputy!

http://www.kylemaclachlan.com/viewer.php?id=4

FAIL:  Whedonless, I fear this is destined to fail...

http://herocomplex.latimes.com/2010/11/22/joss-who-meet-the-writer-of-the-new-buffy-the-vampire-slayer-film/