Archive for October, 2006
Amazingly, just after I posted about watching LolliLove, in which a clueless rich couple forms an organization to give out lollipops to the homeless, I myself had a lollipop encounter in the accessories department at Macy’s. Dormouse and I were standing there looking at scarves when a woman came up to us and asked, “Excuse me, would you like a lollipop?” I almost died. It turned out it was part of a Clinique promotion, which seems odd, but at least it’s not posing as charity.
Now for the distressing news: Entertainment Weekly and TiVo have both failed me. EW claimed that last Friday’s “Doctor Who” was the season premiere, but it turned out that the premiere had aired the previous Friday, along with a two-hour between-the-seasons special. That’s three whole hours of David Tennant that I missed! To compound my angst, our TiVo for some reason claimed to be recording “Doctor Who” last Friday, while it was actually recording “Battlestar Galactica.” I accused Porpoise of deliberately trying to sabotage my DT obsession, but he claims innocence, so I guess we’ll have to blame the TiVo. Still, I checked to make sure it was properly set up to record the first installment of Casanova last night.
I suppose I should wait until I’ve seen the second half of Casanova before commenting on it, but I have a few things I’d better say while I’m thinking about them. First of all, I forgot that another Casanova came out last fall: a big-screen film starring Heath Ledger and Sienna Miller. Don’t know anything about that movie. I suppose I should Netflix it for comparison’s sake, but it doesn’t look that interesting. I admit I’m biased, but I don’t see how Heath Ledger can be as interesting a Casanova as David Tennant. Ledger is good-looking in a more traditional (i.e., hulking, oafish) way and therefore rather boring. Casting someone with Tennant’s quirky good looks means that the actor has to suggest that there’s some appeal to Casanova other than merely the physical.
This appeal, in the BBC Casanova’s case, is his outrageousness and cheekiness, not to mention his undying ardor for the one woman he can’t have (though of course that doesn’t stop him from sleeping with lots of other women). Casanova screenwriter Russell T. Davies (the Welshman also behind many of the recent “Doctor Who” scripts) wanted to make Casanova a more sympathetic figure than he’s often been. Says Davies, “When I sat down to read Casanova’s autobiography - all 12 volumes of it! - I discovered that our modern-day impression of a lascivious, misogynist man is hopelessly wrong. . . . This man genuinely loved women, and respected them with an astonishingly modern mentality. I also discovered that, outside his love life, Casanova was a wonderful, barmy, inventive man. And what a fraud! Like an 18th century Jeffrey Archer, but funny. He wasn’t born an aristocrat, he lied his way into jobs and positions of power with charm and cheek. He’s just irresistible.”
The style of this Casanova is also rather barmy and inventive. Porpoise commented as we watched that it almost felt like an episode of “Doctor Who” (and this was before we looked up Russell T. Davies on IMDB to find out why his name sounded so familiar). It has electronic music here and there, a fast, almost goofy pace, a mix of humor and occasional pathos, and intentional anachronistic flourishes. In fact, the latter made me think of Sofia Coppola’s upcoming Marie Antoinette film, much of which is set to 80’s music.
Anyway, Casanova is certainly more risqué than most Masterpiece Theatre miniseries, though I suspect it’s been toned down a bit from the BBC original. Still, I would advise parental discretion (meaning: parents, you probably don’t want to see this). It has its merits, though, especially in the portrayal of Casanova and his lady-love Henriette as two low-born posers scrambling to get by any way they can in class-conscious eighteenth-century Venice.
October 9th, 2006
Last fall, when we were driving to Boston with Porpoise’s parents, we passed through Scranton, Pennsylvania, where “The Office” takes place. I begged them to stop the car so that we could go see Jim and Pam and Dwight and all my favorite folks at Dunder Mifflin. Porpoise told me that they’re not real people, and that they don’t actually live there. Sigh. I still refuse to admit that Jim isn’t real, and if I ever meet John Krasinski and discover that he isn’t just like Jim Halpert, I will be greatly irked. But, having now seen “Pam” in something else, I can acknowledge that she is a character played by an actress named Jenna Fischer.
Back in 2002, Jenna Fischer and her real-life husband James Gunn created a mockumentary called LolliLove, about a rich L.A. couple who decide to “help” the homeless by handing out lollipops with cheery slogans like “You Matter” printed on their wrappers. Jenna Fischer’s character (aptly named “Jenna”) is nothing like Pam, and I assume she’s nothing like the real-life Jenna, either. What’s amazing is how similar the style of LolliLove is to the style of “The Office”: the faux-documentary interviews and “impromptu” camera footage, the way each lampoons bigotry by allowing the characters to say ridiculously insensitive things, followed by uncomfortable pauses. What’s different is that LolliLove doesn’t have any likable characters to give you relief from the bigots. Plus, it’s perfectly fine to laugh at “James”’s and “Jenna”’s shallowness, but when the two start fighting with each other, the film gets a little too realistic to be funny. It has its amusing moments, but overall it’s a tad uneven.
However, I’m glad I saw LolliLove, if mostly for its “Office” connections. I’m continually amazed at the creativity of all the actors on “The Office,” most of whom also contribute to the show’s scripts.
Now seems as good a time as any to update readers on what I’m watching on TV this fall. First priority is, of course, “The Office.” Sadly, that means that I’m going to have to wait to watch the new show “Ugly Betty” on DVD, because it’s on at the same time (the description of last Thursday’s episode, in which someone steals Betty’s stuffed bunny from her desk and sends her ransom notes, reminds me of a similar experience with my Mr. Duck–ahem, Jillian).
I am NOT watching Aaron Sorkin’s “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip,” because it’s written by Aaron Sorkin. Even though I hear good reports about how there’s a positive portrayal of a smart, funny, evangelical Christian character on the show, I somehow think that when she speaks, she must sound amazingly like Aaron Sorkin. Because ALL his characters do. Plus, I hear that the character is based on Kristin Chenoweth, a wonderful Broadway actress and singer who apparently had the misfortune to date Sorkin, so any merit the character has probably comes from her. However, I think I will give “Studio 60″’s competitor, “30 Rock,” a try when it debuts this Wednesday.
Speaking of debuts, I am celebrating the return of “Dr. Who” (with David Tennant! Yippee!) last night. I haven’t yet watched the episode, but, believe me, I’m looking forward to it. This weekend is doubly blessed with David Tennant, as he’s also appearing on Masterpiece Theatre’s Casanova on Sunday night. How shall I contain my joy?
Who would’ve thunk that I, who had no TV until I acquired one via marriage, would be watching three shows a week?
October 7th, 2006
While we on The Ottery have been discussing whether a documentary focusing on one Pentecostal kids’ camp in North Dakota can claim to authentically and accurately represent all of evangelical Christianity, other writers and bloggers have been raising important questions about “authenticity” as a criterion in films starring or made primarily by black artists.
The Cinematical blog where I first saw the discussion describes an article from The Guardian that raises questions of “why white, middle-class audiences only deem a Black Film “authentic” if it’s about gangs, drugs, and guns . . . and why every Black film is expected to be socially realist (with the authenticity of the film generally being determined by someone outside that cultural group), when every White film does not have to be socially realist.” The original Guardian article appeared on Sept. 29, and it shows that this double standard exists in the UK, too, not just in Hollywood.
I don’t really have much to add, since, if anyone has the authority to say what makes a black film “authentic,” it certainly isn’t me. I just wanted to call the post and the article to everyone’s attention. Plus, it connects to a discussion Mink and I were having recently, after watching Madea’s Family Reunion.
We both like Tyler Perry’s work (at least what we’ve seen of it, which doesn’t include his stage plays), but we admitted that we don’t judge it by the same standards that we might use for, say, an Oscar-baiting drama. If we were to judge by those standards, we might find Perry’s movies melodramatic, unbelievable, meandering. Instead, we agreed, we tend to view them as a genre unto themselves, with their own rules.
I find myself worrying, though, if by setting up these different standards, we’re being condescending. After all, romantic comedies have their own separate conventions, too, and this doesn’t make me like them (most of them, anyway) any better. Same goes for the frat-boy movie. And yet I feel perfectly comfortable judging them and confidently stating that they stink.
Is it the element of race-difference that makes me hesitant to view Perry’s movies critically? Maybe. It could also be that I’m sympathetic to his Christian messages of forgiveness and healing. It could also be that I find Madea hilarious. Honestly, it’s probably a little bit of all of these, but I think the biggest factor is that Perry’s movies are really allegories, in a way that no other contemporary movies are. As such, they almost have to be judged on their own. That’s my current theory, anyway. I’m looking forward to seeing some of the Madea plays on DVD, now that we can get them through Netflix.
October 3rd, 2006
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