Reaper
So I watched the first half dozen episodes of the new TV show Reaper, a decision made irrationally and almost involuntarily based on early reviews comparing it to Buffy. It certainly had a great premise: on his 21st birthday our protagonist, a boring young man named Sam, finds out that his parents promised his soul to Satan before he was born. Now that he's reached the age of majority, he must work off his parent's debt by becoming the Devil's bounty hunter - catching and returning souls that have escaped from hell.
Unfortunately Reaper, at least in the first few episodes, fails completely to capitalise on such a great premise, instead quickly finding a generic formula and falling into a dull routine. This would be tolerable if the writing and acting were sharp enough to keep it entertaining but sadly the show also suffers from a fatal lack of wit. The characters are unbelievably generic, the attempt at a wacky sidekick (a guy who acts out a pretty straight impersonation of Jack Black) might have helped if his wackiness contained a trace of genuine humour, and the less said about the others... well there is nothing to say about them because they're so boring and two dimensional. But the nail in the coffin for the show was the romance, in which Sam pines for his workmate Andi, which over the course of a mere six episodes became so offensively inane that I had no choice but to cancel my bittorrents in disgust.
Sam spends a decent percentage of each episode trying to gauge Andi's feelings for him and/or smooth over the latest misunderstanding that has arisen between them because of his secret other life. At no time does Andi evince any hint of a personality or an opinion of her own, merely making puppy dog eyes when Sam breaks a date with her after work and remaining a blank cipher, both to her suitor and to the viewer, as to what she's really thinking or feeling. If I saw someone behaving this way in the real world I would shake my head and cluck disapprovingly at her cruel and manipulative toying with this poor sap who's quite obviously infatuated with her, but of course that's not what the writers intend us to see. Andi is a perfect example of this peculiar American TV/ Hollywood creation, the artificial love interest: a character (invariably a woman) who exists only to stand in as an example of chaste virtue, and to be used by a primary character to learn a valuable lesson about honesty, or some other fatuous homily. Aside from the obvious crimes against characterisation that this approach entails, it's offensive for two more reasons. Firstly the creepy crypto-chauvinism it implies (the perfect woman is completely passive and virginal), not to mention the numerous opportunities it provides for the writers to massage conservative America's madonna/whore complex (contrast Andi with the women Satan sends to tempt Sam with, who (gasp) have tattoos and make the first move in trying to kiss him). And secondly because of the nauseatingly Disney moral of twue wuv that it's expressing.
But there is a reason that I made it through six whole episodes, and that's because Reaper does have one genuinely great redeeming feature in the person of Satan as played by Ray Wise (who of course we all remember as Leland Palmer from Twin Peaks). Appearing as a distinguished, tanned, well dressed older man, Wise steals every scene with his delicate balancing of the character's cheerful, friendly outer persona and his true nature as the malevolent manifestation of all evil. He is also apparently the only character which brings out any trace of wit in the writers. Sadly he (and the concept) are not enough to redeem the show. I've since shifted my attention to Pushing Daisies, which has it's own problems, but pleases me much more on a moral and philosophical level.
Showing posts with label Shit That Really Sucks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Shit That Really Sucks. Show all posts
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Friday, November 30, 2007
Whoooooooooaaaaaah Whooooooooooahhhhhh Whooooooaaaaaaaaaah
Various Artists - Forged In Steel
While on a recent music purchasing outing I found myself laden with this free compilation, published by Roadrunner Records. Normally I hiff this stuff in the bin as fast as possible, but my curiosity was stimulated by the chance to actually hear the mediocre mall-metal that the kids are a-hipping and a-hopping to today.
We start out in solid enough territory, with Machine Head's 'Now I Lay Thee Down', a song I have already declared my fondness for on this very blog, and Megadeth's 'Sleepwalker', which doesn't need to be described any further than to say that it's 'a Megadeth song', but definitely a decent listen.
Later on there are a few other bands that I found moderately entertaining. Porcupine Tree, Pain and Daath were all pleasing (the former two reminding me that the genre of industrial metal does still exist), and the last track by Sanctity, which I can't actually remember anything about at all. I guess that means at least that it wasn't terrible.
Most of this shit is pretty dreadful though. At track three we encounter Within Temptation, a band that takes the Evanescence's gimmick, removes even that bands small traces of subtlety and sophistication, and makes up for it with extra shitty rapping.
Things don't get any better from there. Shadows Fall, Behind Crimson Eyes and Stone Sour give me both a belated insight into the dire metalcore that the kids have made popular today and a sense of gratefulness that my aversion to radio and television has thus far mostly spared me from it. To these bands I have only one thing to say: I hope your dad finally gives you that raise in your allowance and gets off your back about succeeding in school. Maybe then you can quit your angsty, crappy kiddy metal metal band and start a better one. Even Killswitch Engage, a band that up until now was my touchstone example of shitty radio friendly metal, come off looking not so bad when compared to these shamelessly commercial appropriations of teenage angst.
Lastly we have a few bands that are just so bad that I can't even be offended by their terribleness, and merely take pleasure in marvelling at just how bad they are. Trivium are a shitty rip off of Dragonforce (or perhaps Manowar) without the decency to inherit their (few) non-sucky elements. Dragonforce themselves also have a song on this disc, which I estimate to be composed of 23% “Whooaaah's” and 76% wank solos, and arranges said elements in such a way to create a song even more gratingly awful than what I've heard of them previously.
As much of a chore as this was to listen to, I'm at least glad to know that by deliberately insulating myself from mainstream pop culture I haven't accidentally missed out on anything truly worthwhile.
While on a recent music purchasing outing I found myself laden with this free compilation, published by Roadrunner Records. Normally I hiff this stuff in the bin as fast as possible, but my curiosity was stimulated by the chance to actually hear the mediocre mall-metal that the kids are a-hipping and a-hopping to today.
We start out in solid enough territory, with Machine Head's 'Now I Lay Thee Down', a song I have already declared my fondness for on this very blog, and Megadeth's 'Sleepwalker', which doesn't need to be described any further than to say that it's 'a Megadeth song', but definitely a decent listen.
Later on there are a few other bands that I found moderately entertaining. Porcupine Tree, Pain and Daath were all pleasing (the former two reminding me that the genre of industrial metal does still exist), and the last track by Sanctity, which I can't actually remember anything about at all. I guess that means at least that it wasn't terrible.
Most of this shit is pretty dreadful though. At track three we encounter Within Temptation, a band that takes the Evanescence's gimmick, removes even that bands small traces of subtlety and sophistication, and makes up for it with extra shitty rapping.
Things don't get any better from there. Shadows Fall, Behind Crimson Eyes and Stone Sour give me both a belated insight into the dire metalcore that the kids have made popular today and a sense of gratefulness that my aversion to radio and television has thus far mostly spared me from it. To these bands I have only one thing to say: I hope your dad finally gives you that raise in your allowance and gets off your back about succeeding in school. Maybe then you can quit your angsty, crappy kiddy metal metal band and start a better one. Even Killswitch Engage, a band that up until now was my touchstone example of shitty radio friendly metal, come off looking not so bad when compared to these shamelessly commercial appropriations of teenage angst.
Lastly we have a few bands that are just so bad that I can't even be offended by their terribleness, and merely take pleasure in marvelling at just how bad they are. Trivium are a shitty rip off of Dragonforce (or perhaps Manowar) without the decency to inherit their (few) non-sucky elements. Dragonforce themselves also have a song on this disc, which I estimate to be composed of 23% “Whooaaah's” and 76% wank solos, and arranges said elements in such a way to create a song even more gratingly awful than what I've heard of them previously.
As much of a chore as this was to listen to, I'm at least glad to know that by deliberately insulating myself from mainstream pop culture I haven't accidentally missed out on anything truly worthwhile.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Holiday Viewing
So I got the chance to watch a few movies on the plane while I was away. I'm pretty slack at getting my arse to the actual theatre nowadays so it was good to catch up on a few recent releases that I'd missed.
At the top of the list of movies I'm annoyed at myself for missing was Stardust, based on Neil Gaiman's novel. I loved the book, but adaptations of this type rarely go well and the reviews had been lacklustre so my expectations were low. Fortunately it turned out to pretty damn good. While the movie feels free to deviate wildly from the plot of its source material, it faithfully retains the fairy tale spirit and Gaiman's unique style and mood. Plus it features some stunning visuals, proving that expensive CGI can still look good in the right hands, something I'd begun to doubt in this age of overrendered Spidermans and Fantastic Fours. My only criticism would be Claire Danes, who I found quite annoying and who also managed to be out-foxed by the almost fifty year old Michelle Pfeiffer.
Next I finally got to watch The Simpsons Movie. As much as I loved the show in its heyday, it's recent deterioration left me without much compulsion to catch the big screen version. I'm not sorry I saw it, thankfully it isn't the worthless mockery of a once great comedy that I feared, but I certainly wouldn't recommend it. Sure it's worth a few laughs, particularly near the beginning but despite all the winks and nods to fans there's no denying that the writers lost their spirit a long time ago. Plus, I can't believe they killed Dr. Nick for no reason! Why choose to off one of their best characters (and one that has been around since nearly the beginning), and not one of the lame later additions that have mysteriously hung round for years (Like the “yeeeesss” guy. Does anyone think that shit is funny?)
Next I gave Knocked Up a try. Freaks and Geeks gives Buffy a run for its money as the best thing ever to appear on television, and Judd Apatow has made a decent career in Hollywood following the demise of that show so I had high expectations for his new(ish) film. Nevertheless, I couldn't make it through half an hour of this movie. My hatred for the characters (all of them, I couldn't decide if I loathed the snobby rich girls or the gross slobby guys more) grew so extreme that I had to calm down by watching Transformers. The gentle sounds of explosions and cheesy generic rock soundtracks washed away my misanthropic anger and sent me off to sleep before the movie was half over.
Later on I ended up watching Daywatch, an almost incomprehensible Russian sci-fi movie. Despite the ridiculous plot and overwrought acting I neither fell asleep nor turned it off in disgust before the end so on some level at least it must count as a success.
I also caught 28 Days Later and its sequel 28 Weeks Later. The first film was a perfect example of someone taking a timeworn genre (in this case the zombie film featuring political allegory) and creating something completely new from it without deviating from the established trappings of the style. I loved the first both as an action film and for its unpleasant but affecting insights into human nature. The next film was still quite watchable but lacked all the things that made the first film so good, despite the addition of many scenes of famous parts of London getting blown up and/or attacked by zombies.
Unfortunately my nineteen hour flight back to Australia was movieless, thanks to Qantas' shitty entertainment system being on the blink the whole time. At least that meant that I got through half of Moby Dick.
At the top of the list of movies I'm annoyed at myself for missing was Stardust, based on Neil Gaiman's novel. I loved the book, but adaptations of this type rarely go well and the reviews had been lacklustre so my expectations were low. Fortunately it turned out to pretty damn good. While the movie feels free to deviate wildly from the plot of its source material, it faithfully retains the fairy tale spirit and Gaiman's unique style and mood. Plus it features some stunning visuals, proving that expensive CGI can still look good in the right hands, something I'd begun to doubt in this age of overrendered Spidermans and Fantastic Fours. My only criticism would be Claire Danes, who I found quite annoying and who also managed to be out-foxed by the almost fifty year old Michelle Pfeiffer.
Next I finally got to watch The Simpsons Movie. As much as I loved the show in its heyday, it's recent deterioration left me without much compulsion to catch the big screen version. I'm not sorry I saw it, thankfully it isn't the worthless mockery of a once great comedy that I feared, but I certainly wouldn't recommend it. Sure it's worth a few laughs, particularly near the beginning but despite all the winks and nods to fans there's no denying that the writers lost their spirit a long time ago. Plus, I can't believe they killed Dr. Nick for no reason! Why choose to off one of their best characters (and one that has been around since nearly the beginning), and not one of the lame later additions that have mysteriously hung round for years (Like the “yeeeesss” guy. Does anyone think that shit is funny?)
Next I gave Knocked Up a try. Freaks and Geeks gives Buffy a run for its money as the best thing ever to appear on television, and Judd Apatow has made a decent career in Hollywood following the demise of that show so I had high expectations for his new(ish) film. Nevertheless, I couldn't make it through half an hour of this movie. My hatred for the characters (all of them, I couldn't decide if I loathed the snobby rich girls or the gross slobby guys more) grew so extreme that I had to calm down by watching Transformers. The gentle sounds of explosions and cheesy generic rock soundtracks washed away my misanthropic anger and sent me off to sleep before the movie was half over.
Later on I ended up watching Daywatch, an almost incomprehensible Russian sci-fi movie. Despite the ridiculous plot and overwrought acting I neither fell asleep nor turned it off in disgust before the end so on some level at least it must count as a success.
I also caught 28 Days Later and its sequel 28 Weeks Later. The first film was a perfect example of someone taking a timeworn genre (in this case the zombie film featuring political allegory) and creating something completely new from it without deviating from the established trappings of the style. I loved the first both as an action film and for its unpleasant but affecting insights into human nature. The next film was still quite watchable but lacked all the things that made the first film so good, despite the addition of many scenes of famous parts of London getting blown up and/or attacked by zombies.
Unfortunately my nineteen hour flight back to Australia was movieless, thanks to Qantas' shitty entertainment system being on the blink the whole time. At least that meant that I got through half of Moby Dick.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
1001 Albums - Number 7
Frank Sinatra – Songs for Swinging Lovers
http://wildebeestasylum.blogspot.com/2006/04/1001-albums-number-1.html
In the wee small hours
The scene is a darkened office, 1954. Frank Sinatra stands before the desk of a fatcat record exec, who is probably puffing on a cigar. “It's a disaster Frank,” he says, “Your morbid opus of despair, In the Wee Small Hours, is responsible for over four hundred suicides in the last month alone. In the news this morning I read that a young girl saw you stop smiling for a split second at your last show and bashed her own head in with a brick.”
“So.. hard... to keep... smiling”, Frank forces out between the gritted teeth of his fixed, rictus grin.
“Don't worry.” Says the executive. “We have a plan...”
And so was born Songs for Swinging Lovers, an album so grotesquely upbeat that the Surgeon General recommends playing four hours of Ren and Stimpy's 'Happy Happy Joy Joy' afterwards in order to bring the listener back down to the grim reality of life on this cold, forsaken earth.
Like In the Wee Small Hours before it, this album is a short collection of lite jazz arrangements so substanceless that they barely impinge on one's consciousness, overlayed by Sinatra's hammy crooning. However this time around the 'emotion' switch has been flicked from 'sad' to 'happy', and instead of the unconvincing moping Frank delivered on the former we get a selection of perky, upbeat tributes to sunshine and puppies. It's really impossible to overstate just how insipid this album is. Here's a selection of lyrics from 'How About You':
This is a joke right?
The first half hour is hard enough to stomach, but then we get to what is probably (and I honestly say this without a speck of hyperbole) the most offensive song I have heard in my entire life: 'Anything Goes', a heartfelt tribute to puritan conformity. It totally shits me that this is considered by anyone to be good music. I know I often sound like a cynical misanthrope who hates any kind of positive feeling in music or art, but surely I'm not the only one who's horrified by the thought of legions of middle aged, middle class drones tapping their feet contentedly to this soulless nothing-music and nodding in approval at Frank's condemnation of the young people nowadays and their bad language. If we can take comfort in one thing from this song, it's that even back in the Fifties conservatives were sternly disapproving of the ever worsening morals of society, and that
You tell 'em Frank! It just goes to show that that attitude is all a bunch of bullshit.
And that's the last I'll be hearing of this guy, at least assuming I remember to delete the songs off my ipod.
Next up, Buddy Holly.
http://wildebeestasylum.blogspot.com/2006/04/1001-albums-number-1.html
In the wee small hours
The scene is a darkened office, 1954. Frank Sinatra stands before the desk of a fatcat record exec, who is probably puffing on a cigar. “It's a disaster Frank,” he says, “Your morbid opus of despair, In the Wee Small Hours, is responsible for over four hundred suicides in the last month alone. In the news this morning I read that a young girl saw you stop smiling for a split second at your last show and bashed her own head in with a brick.”
“So.. hard... to keep... smiling”, Frank forces out between the gritted teeth of his fixed, rictus grin.
“Don't worry.” Says the executive. “We have a plan...”
And so was born Songs for Swinging Lovers, an album so grotesquely upbeat that the Surgeon General recommends playing four hours of Ren and Stimpy's 'Happy Happy Joy Joy' afterwards in order to bring the listener back down to the grim reality of life on this cold, forsaken earth.
Like In the Wee Small Hours before it, this album is a short collection of lite jazz arrangements so substanceless that they barely impinge on one's consciousness, overlayed by Sinatra's hammy crooning. However this time around the 'emotion' switch has been flicked from 'sad' to 'happy', and instead of the unconvincing moping Frank delivered on the former we get a selection of perky, upbeat tributes to sunshine and puppies. It's really impossible to overstate just how insipid this album is. Here's a selection of lyrics from 'How About You':
I like potato chips, moonlight motor trips, how about you?
I'm mad about good books, can't get my fill
And James Durante's looks give me a thrill
This is a joke right?
The first half hour is hard enough to stomach, but then we get to what is probably (and I honestly say this without a speck of hyperbole) the most offensive song I have heard in my entire life: 'Anything Goes', a heartfelt tribute to puritan conformity. It totally shits me that this is considered by anyone to be good music. I know I often sound like a cynical misanthrope who hates any kind of positive feeling in music or art, but surely I'm not the only one who's horrified by the thought of legions of middle aged, middle class drones tapping their feet contentedly to this soulless nothing-music and nodding in approval at Frank's condemnation of the young people nowadays and their bad language. If we can take comfort in one thing from this song, it's that even back in the Fifties conservatives were sternly disapproving of the ever worsening morals of society, and that
most guys today that women prize today
Are just silly gigolos
You tell 'em Frank! It just goes to show that that attitude is all a bunch of bullshit.
And that's the last I'll be hearing of this guy, at least assuming I remember to delete the songs off my ipod.
Next up, Buddy Holly.
Monday, July 02, 2007
Movies. Two Of Them.
A History of Violence
Directed by David Cronenberg
This film was a critical darling and gained a few Academy award nominations, but I can't imagine why.
Viggo Mortensen plays a mild mannered café operator who becomes a local hero after he kills a couple of nasty would be robbers. However he himself has an unpleasantly violent past (in the opening flashback we see him kill a child in cold blood) and it comes back to haunt him.
The setup has some potential but my moral sensibilities were more than a little offended by the way the plot developed. The film fairly overtly states that violence is the solution to everything. Not only does Mortensen resolve his troubles by viciously murdering the gangsters who are chasing him but it is explicitly noted that the gangsters made a mistake by not killing him as soon as they could. The worst scene is where Mortensen gets his wife back by holding her down and initiating violent sex. Because of course that's the way it works in the real world...
They can throw in a scene of Mortensen washing the blood off his hands (and shirt so we get a chance to heterosexually admire his chiselled body) at the end but it doesn't justify the warped morality of the rest of the movie.
The Lives of Others
Directed by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
This was a much better movie. Set in Eastern Germany before the fall of the Berlin wall, the plot follows a Stasi spy assigned to keep an eye on a prominent playwright. It gets a little melodramatic towards the end, and there are some quite cheesy scenes, but I really liked the message, which is that art can change a persons life, and it can change the world. I don't know how much I believe that is true, but it's still a message I can enjoy. Beautifully directed too.
Directed by David Cronenberg
This film was a critical darling and gained a few Academy award nominations, but I can't imagine why.
Viggo Mortensen plays a mild mannered café operator who becomes a local hero after he kills a couple of nasty would be robbers. However he himself has an unpleasantly violent past (in the opening flashback we see him kill a child in cold blood) and it comes back to haunt him.
The setup has some potential but my moral sensibilities were more than a little offended by the way the plot developed. The film fairly overtly states that violence is the solution to everything. Not only does Mortensen resolve his troubles by viciously murdering the gangsters who are chasing him but it is explicitly noted that the gangsters made a mistake by not killing him as soon as they could. The worst scene is where Mortensen gets his wife back by holding her down and initiating violent sex. Because of course that's the way it works in the real world...
They can throw in a scene of Mortensen washing the blood off his hands (and shirt so we get a chance to heterosexually admire his chiselled body) at the end but it doesn't justify the warped morality of the rest of the movie.
The Lives of Others
Directed by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck
This was a much better movie. Set in Eastern Germany before the fall of the Berlin wall, the plot follows a Stasi spy assigned to keep an eye on a prominent playwright. It gets a little melodramatic towards the end, and there are some quite cheesy scenes, but I really liked the message, which is that art can change a persons life, and it can change the world. I don't know how much I believe that is true, but it's still a message I can enjoy. Beautifully directed too.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Friday, May 04, 2007
You're Still More Of A Man Than Anyone I've Ever Known
Casino Royale
Directed by Who Cares
I'm not much of a James Bond fan, but this was the only film I was tempted to watch on the airline's playlist when I flew back from Auckland (they only had the same Family Guy ep I watched last time and no Simpsons! Disgraceful!). I've seen most of the Pierce Brosnan films in theatres and in an incredibly stupid action movie kind of way I found them satisfying, scratching that masculine urge to see things go fast, blow up, drink cocktails and show cleavage, not necessarily in that order.
This one fucking sucked though. There was not enough action, terrible pacing and boring villains, basically the plot was rubbish. Daniel Craig makes a decent enough Bond, but the story is paced like it was the debut novel by a second rate potboiling hack. Oh wait, it was. At any rate I don't know what soulless audience-testing money hungry multinational picture company greenlighted a script in which the titular climactic casino scene is over by the two thirds mark and most of the rest of the film is a long drawn out hug and kiss between Bond and his new girlfriend, during which he may as well have written 'target practice' on her forehead.
Which brings me to another topic, the confused error of the writers in assuming that James Bond should have a personality or human motivations. In the recent films at least James Bond is not a person, he is an emotionless robot consuming Martinis and releasing them at high velocity in the form of bullets, ejaculate or one liners as the situation requires. Any attempt to humanise what is really only a laughably shallow Hollywood projection of a hyper masculine Ur-Male is misguided in the most amusing way possible. Which is why when the female 'lead' (why even bother with the indignity of the term, any woman in a Bond film is there only to be fucked and/or die (OK except for Judi Dench, but I bet the studio execs are wishing they could replace her with a man)) utters the line “If the only thing left of you was your smile and your little finger, you'd still be more of a man than anyone I've ever known,” I had to resist the temptation to turn around, wake up the old lady sleeping beside me and gesture at the screen saying “Can you believe this shit? How stupid do they think movie goers are today?”
Directed by Who Cares
I'm not much of a James Bond fan, but this was the only film I was tempted to watch on the airline's playlist when I flew back from Auckland (they only had the same Family Guy ep I watched last time and no Simpsons! Disgraceful!). I've seen most of the Pierce Brosnan films in theatres and in an incredibly stupid action movie kind of way I found them satisfying, scratching that masculine urge to see things go fast, blow up, drink cocktails and show cleavage, not necessarily in that order.
This one fucking sucked though. There was not enough action, terrible pacing and boring villains, basically the plot was rubbish. Daniel Craig makes a decent enough Bond, but the story is paced like it was the debut novel by a second rate potboiling hack. Oh wait, it was. At any rate I don't know what soulless audience-testing money hungry multinational picture company greenlighted a script in which the titular climactic casino scene is over by the two thirds mark and most of the rest of the film is a long drawn out hug and kiss between Bond and his new girlfriend, during which he may as well have written 'target practice' on her forehead.
Which brings me to another topic, the confused error of the writers in assuming that James Bond should have a personality or human motivations. In the recent films at least James Bond is not a person, he is an emotionless robot consuming Martinis and releasing them at high velocity in the form of bullets, ejaculate or one liners as the situation requires. Any attempt to humanise what is really only a laughably shallow Hollywood projection of a hyper masculine Ur-Male is misguided in the most amusing way possible. Which is why when the female 'lead' (why even bother with the indignity of the term, any woman in a Bond film is there only to be fucked and/or die (OK except for Judi Dench, but I bet the studio execs are wishing they could replace her with a man)) utters the line “If the only thing left of you was your smile and your little finger, you'd still be more of a man than anyone I've ever known,” I had to resist the temptation to turn around, wake up the old lady sleeping beside me and gesture at the screen saying “Can you believe this shit? How stupid do they think movie goers are today?”
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