The Way We Were

I don't know why I don't watch HBO shows when they are actually running (I mean, aside from the fact that I don't have HBO). During the summer of 2008, I watched the entirety of Six Feet Under, 3 years after it ended, and enjoyed it immensely. The Sopranos and The Wire have been hailed as two of the best series of all time, and based on other things I like, I should love Curb Your Enthusiasm (though I've seen 2 episodes and was not won over, though I may try again, if only to see the Seinfeld "reunion").

I also saw Deadwood that summer, 2 years after it ended, and was once again blown away by the depth of the show, as well as what the writers were able to do without the constraints of network standards and practices. I am currently watching Rome, after it was heavily recommended by some friends, and so far it is incredible. So my next series of posts will be on Deadwood and Rome (hopefully by the time I get to that series, I will have nearly completed it), examining their views on society, politics, and life in general.

Deadwood was about the creation of a society, following a town in a part of the North American continent that was destined to become, but was not yet, part of the United States. The inhabitants initially lived without actual laws, but had to conform to some kind of system in order to avoid pure chaos. Rome starts at the twilight of the Roman republic, a decade or two before the rise of the empire. So far, the class struggle has been a central aspect of the series, and it examines the lives of various types of people in the ancient democracy.

Up next: The wild west...

Glee: We Are The Champions

It's been many weeks since I've covered Glee, meaning that I haven't been able to talk about "Proud Mary" in the wheelchairs, Artie and Tina's romance, the drug-infused mash-up songs, the mattress commercial, or Suzie Pepper. To make a long story short, Glee remains a very fun show to watch, and although I will definitely be sticking with it, it continues to do some things that I find very off-putting. These things can take me out of the episode because they are so jarring. The end of the episode "Hairography" was nearly unwatchable due to forced dialogue, and plot points still come up for about one episode only to be neatly resolved by the end. The mid-season finale, "Sectionals," had some of these issues, but all-in-all, I was able to look past them for the most part because of how fun the episode was. Right now, the show's biggest sin isn't its fault: not coming back until April?! What the hell, FOX!?

"Sectionals" was written to be a potential (open-ended) series finale if it did not become the phenomenon that it has become, so many plotlines were essentially wrapped up (thankfully, the fake pregnancy story was one of them). All hell broke loose for the club because, in addition to Mr. Schuster not being able to attend the Sectionals meet due to accidentally and unknowingly accepting consideration for professional work, Rachel told Finn that Puck was the father of Quinn's baby. Finn's reaction and flight from the club was good, but Quinn's reaction was pretty unbelievable. Her rival for Finn's attention ratted her out (how did she figure it out... aside from her "psychic" powers, because her only evidence was Puck's devotion to Quinn), and she not only let Rachel off the hook, she told Rachel she was glad Finn knew. Which makes no sense because prior episodes have definitively shown us that she would rather have Finn as the father figure than Puck. I do like that Finn and Puck did not make up at the end; when Puck asked if they were cool, having Finn say no was very satisfying.

My other huge gripe with the episode was the way New Directions was able to come up with TWO new routines, which helped them win the competition, in about 20 minutes. Granted, one of them was pretty much a solo number by Rachel, which she claims she had been working on since she was 4 (note: I had no idea Barbara Streisand was the original singer of "Don't Rain On My Parade"; I have only ever heard the amazing Bobby Darrin version). But for them to choreograph "You Can't Always Get What You Want" so quickly is pretty unbelievable. Their final song was "Somebody To Love," so they didn't show it again.

However, in spite of the suspension of disbelief requirement, the episode was incredibly fun and rewarding. Emma took charge and represented New Directions at Sectionals, and showed some backbone by standing up to the cheating heads of the other two glee clubs (who received the set list for New Directions from Sue). Speaking of Emma, I'm really happy her wedding plotline ended; I like Ken, but the quickie wedding was almost as unbelievable as Terry's fake pregnancy, especially because of all the conditions Emma placed on their relationship and Ken's awareness that the whole thing was a sham. Things are going to be awkward between him, Emma, and Will when the show starts up again. The two new numbers used for Sectionals were great, and the final song was a great way to end this stretch of episodes (or series had it come to that). Too bad we won't get more Glee until April.

Up next: HBO presents a history lesson...

Mad Men: Brave New World

Holy shit. I am so sad that I've had to wait this long before covering the rest of Mad Men's third season. The episode "Wee Small Hours" aired right after my last post in October, and when the episode aired, I had a really good analysis for the episode. It aired on October 11, 2009, which was the date of a large gay rights march on Washington. In the episode, numerous references were made to the Civil Rights movement, including the August, 1963 march on Washington. My favorite line regarding civil rights was when Betty told Carla that, even though she believes in equality, maybe the world isn't ready yet (a total cop-out that I hear too often today about gay rights). In addition, Sal was fired from Sterling Cooper because of his sexuality. Matthew Weiner and co. couldn't have picked a better date to air the episode. However, it didn't go down quite the way we'd expect; when the son of the owner of the tobacco company that owns Lucky Strike (SC's biggest account) tried to put the moves on Sal, he refused. In response, the client told Harry Crane to fire Sal, something Harry had no authority to do. Unfortunately, Harry didn't say anything, and things got out of hand, and Don was forced to fire Sal. Things were made all the more painful when Don accused Sal of being at fault because of the nature of gay men. Even sadder was that, after we saw Sal calling his wife from a phone booth in a seedy area of the city, we have not seen him since.

The next bomb was the Kennedy assassination. That was the event I had been waiting all season for, knowing that the season took place in 1963 and that Weiner couldn't avoid it because it had such an impact on the country. What I didn't notice was that, early in the season, Sterling's daughter made a passing reference to setting her wedding date on the weekend after the shooting (the only critic that I am aware of who did pick up on it was the AV Club's Keith Phipps). The season's penultimate episode showed how the various employees of SC and their families dealt with the death of Kennedy as well as the to the televised shooting of Oswald by Ruby. It was incredible, to say the least. Seeing people stay home from work, glued to their TVs reminded me of the days following 9/11 and how all people could do was watch the news, even though there were never any new developments.

But I wasn't prepared for what happened in "Shut the Door. Have a Seat," the season finale. After about 3/4 of the season under Putnam, Powell, and Lowell (or is it Lowe?), the British agency that bought out SC in Season 2, we learned that the Brits were putting SC back up for sale, despite sinking so many costs into to make it more "efficient." Lane Pryce, who had become used to his life in New York, learned that he was going to be shipped off to the next place PPL was looking to take over, while Don, Roger, and Bert wondered what would become of them. Don didn't like the prospect of having to restart his career, while Roger and Bert would be unlikely to do anything but retire. But, upon realizing that the four of them could make their own company if they were released from their contracts, and that Pryce had the power to fire all of them, they did just that. Pryce was later fired for his insolence (which is what he wanted), and they, along with Pete, Peggy, Joan, and Harry created Sterling, Cooper, Draper, Pryce. After a good, old-fashioned office raid, of course.

So how will SCDP do? How will working in the same "office" affect the already shaky relationship between Pete and Peggy? Peggy is now sleeping with Duck Phillips, Don's nemesis, and I doubt that's going to go away any time soon. Where is Sal? And will Kinsey be on the show anymore? He and Cosgrove were left behind, and while I could care less about Cosgrove, I'm going to miss Kinsey's goofy pretentiousness if he's not around next year. I haven't even mentioned the Draper divorce; Betty is leaving Don after one indiscretion too many to go off with some jackass politician. That's going to end real well (but I have no sympathy for Betty any more). The tumultuousness of the 60s is just getting started, so how will that affect the already strained relationships between the members of this fledgling agency? Season 4 can't start soon enough.

Up next: Sectionals...

Garden State: Waking Up

The third and final indie film I saw in the summer of 2004 (mere days before I left for my freshman year of college) was Zach Braff's Garden State, which was actually my first exposure to the actor/writer/director. For whatever reason, I found this movie to be much funnier than it actually is the first time I saw it. The movie definitely has funny moments, but I now see it as a film about loneliness with brief moments of humor throughout.

Andrew "Large" Largeman is living the dream in the eyes of all of his friends in New Jersey. He left the Garden State nine years before the film started to become a famous movie actor. The reality is that he's just another person out in Hollywood; he's gotten a few bit parts here and there, but has not made it big yet. To get by, he works as a waiter in a trendy Vietnamese restaurant (even though he's, obviously, not Vietnamese), where he serves "hip" drinks (I hate Red Bull, by the way) to "hip" people who treat him like a slave. He gets called back to Jersey when his mother dies, and the movie follows him as he reconnects with the friends and family that he left behind.

But he also reconnects with himself. The very first thing we see in the film is Large's dream sequence in which he is on a crashing plane, but while all the other passengers scream in horror, Large is strangely calm. This disconnected feeling extends to his waking life; he moves through life hopped up on lithium and other mood stabilizers, barely perceiving the world around him. He doesn't feel anything and barely reacts to the world around him. From the very few scenes we see in Los Angeles, we are led to believe that he has few acquaintances, ambition, or money (his empty white apartment says a great deal). When he gets back to Jersey, he barely has any reaction to anything at his mother's funeral, and when he goes to a party with some of his friends from high school, he is still in a state of detachment, despite using various mind-altering (illicit) drugs.

Two things change while he is in New Jersey: he decides that the time has come to stop taking his prescription drugs, and he meets Sam, a woman who is in every way his opposite. Sam tries to fully experience the world and will do anything that crosses her mind, regardless of how silly or potentially embarrassing it is. She and her mom have a great relationship, but she still lives at home (whereas Large has moved out, but can barely talk to his father, who is the reason he has been on lithium his entire life). The one trait they do share is loneliness; although Sam is outgoing on the surface, she is a very strange girl who has a problem with the truth (in that she can't tell it) and doesn't seem to be able to connect with most people on a long-term basis.

Sam helps Large to readjust back into life, easing the transition from sleepwalking to actual feeling, while Large takes her out of her bubble and introduces her to a darker side of life (although the film doesn't explicitly say this, Sam seems to have never ventured outside the safe, "everything-will-always-be-ok" world that kids are often told exists). It culminates with her showing him that some things are worth fully living for, while he ends by breaking her heart (only to quickly return and make everything better). A lot of people complain about the Hollywood ending that feels tacked on because of the preceding tone of the film. I too find the ending a bit jarring, but on the other hand, I can kind of see the ending as what Braff intended based on the above interpretation (he learned that there is more to life than himself and learned to appreciate that outside of himself).

Up next: SCDP...

Dollhouse: Burning Down the House

Holy crap, it's been a long time. I've been so busy with law school that I haven't had time to write here. I promise that I will do the post on Garden State, as well as a look at how the third season of Mad Men concluded (I really wanted to do a write-up of one episode because it serendipitously aired on the same day as a major event that complimented an event that occurred in the episode). But I had to get back here to discuss the latest, and some of the last, episodes of Dollhouse. While I was away, FOX announced that the show was canceled. They promised to air all of the purchased episodes, even the ones that had not yet been produced. The one, slight, upside is that, because not all episodes had been produced, Whedon and the writers were able to create an ending for the show. Small victories...

Anyway, in the two episodes tonight, the Senator Perrin story was brought to the forefront and took some very unexpected turns. Many people in the online community guessed that Perrin's wife was a sleeper doll, and the promos for the episode all but confirmed it. The truth was much more surprising: Perrin himself is the one with altered memories, but he isn't quite a doll. He was born Daniel Perrin, who came from a long line of politicians. But Perrin was a screw-up. He failed out of Yale, was drunken frat boy, and would never amount to anything. Rossum took note of the situation, knew that with his pedigree, they had someone who could easily get elected if he could clean himself up, and did the cleaning for him. His "wife" is really his handler. So why would Rossum create a politician who wants to bring Rossum down? The plan involves Perrin learning the "truth," that all of his tips about Rossum have come from its competitors in an effort to destroy them. Rossum looks like the victim of corporate espionage, and now Perrin is in their corner. A potential white knight for people like Echo, Victor, and Sierra has become a monster.

The path to this revelation was incredible, mainly because we got to meet Bennett, the D.C. Dollhouse programmer, played by Summer Glau. Bennett is kind of like a twisted River Tam; she is a slightly crazy genius with a somewhat stunted maturation and sadistic streak. She is somehow tied to Caroline, and blames her for an accident that left her with a dead arm (the flashbacks we saw don't completely mesh with what little we know about Caroline, so I don't know if what we know is misdirection or if what she believes is wrong, but we know she isn't a doll). We also saw Ray Wise as the head of the D.C. Dollhouse, which was good, but not as great as it could have been. Unfortunately, for as great as these episodes were, there were some line readings that were a bit clunky. I'm not sure if it was the writing or the acting, but every now and then, things felt off, which is strange because of the writers and actors involved. One actor who was awesome as usual was Enver Gjokaj. Adelle and Topher both went to D.C., and to cover for Topher while he was gone, Victor was imprinted with Topher's mind. Gjokaj was able to imitate Topher's voice, mannerisms, and expressions nearly perfectly, and it was a joy to watch. Now that this show is over, Gjokaj needs his own series. Seriously.

I am very sad that this series is going to end. It wasn't always as good as Whedon's other shows, but it is/was one of the better series in production and was consistently entertaining and humorous (not to mention heart-wrenching). Next week's episodes look to be great based on who will be returning. If you want to know more about the remaining episodes, check out this page from Ain't It Cool. I tried not to read too much, but I did see the name of the final episode, which, based on the name, should be very interesting.

Edit: Another great link. Hometown pride!

Up next: Jersey boy and girl (I hope)...

Dollhouse: Beautiful Things on Thin Ice

Last week's Dollhouse was just ok. The ending was very important, but the story was boring/annoying. This week, however, was absolutely incredible. Although the overall story is moving forward relatively slowly (nowhere near the pace of the second half of last year), it is certainly moving, and this is the kind of engagement-of-the-week episode I can get behind. Echo's engagement to a literature professor (how does he have the money to rent a doll?) became intwined with Victor's imprint (not an engagement, though), both thematically and actually when something went horribly wrong.

Echo was imprinted with the mind of a ditzy college student who would be willing to sleep with her prof for a better grade. Turns out that the prof has always fantasized about this sort of thing, but either none of his students ever wanted to or he was too "ethical" to sleep with an actual student (I would have liked the show to have actually said that, and then have him justify making someone do it without them realizing it). Meanwhile, Victor gets imprinted with the mind of the nephew of one of Rossum's majority stockholders (the stockholder is played by Michael Hogan, who played Col. Tigh on Battlestar Galactica). The nephew is a whacked out killer with a serious aversion to women. Angry that his mother, sisters, and aunt would rather go on dates than play with him (he's in his 20's, by the way), he kidnaps women to fill these roles, drugs them up, and poses them like mannequins in a creepy outdoor croquet scene. One of his latest victims fought back, so he had to get a new woman to "play" his aunt, but he was hit by a car. In an effort to find the missing women, Topher, against his better judgment, imprinted Victor with the man's mind and had Ballard interrogate him. Unfortunately, he got out, and due to a mix-up, Victor's GPS chip was not in his body, so they had to track him down the hard way.

In addition to Echo's continuing mental degeneration, in which all of her imprints bleed together, the story took a somewhat significant step tonight when Topher attempted to do a remote wipe on Victor. Adelle knew it was possible because Alpha remote wiped Echo last year, but Topher was still reluctant. He partially succeeded, in that he was able to alter the actives' minds from the Dollhouse while the actives were in the field, but instead of wiping Victor, he switched Victor's serial killer with Echo's party girl. But as viewers of "Epitaph One" know, this will be significant, because Topher will eventually perfect remote wiping, setting the stage for the horrific future.

Speaking of a horrific future, cancellation talks are happening again. The ratings for the episode two weeks back were abysmal. Fortunately, the "Belle Chose" ratings were better, but the Save Our Show campaigns are starting up again, and even mainstream critics are joining in. FOX's attitude on this really upsets me, especially since they are doing things almost exactly the same as they did when Firefly was on the air (although they have shown enough faith to bring the show back for a second season). First of all, Dollhouse is on Friday nights. I love this show, but I've only watched it when it actually aired twice; the first time was "Omega" and the second time was "Belle Chose." Next, what do ratings really mean anymore, anyways? With Hulu.com, streaming episodes on FOX.com, TiVo, and illegal downloads, FOX can't possibly track the number of people who actually watch the show. Finally, I realized something when watching "Belle Chose" the other night: Just like Firefly, FOX is not advertising for Dollhouse at all (or at least, very minimally). I watch Glee most Wednesdays, but I missed it this week. While watching "Belle Chose," I saw a commercial for Glee, and it was then I realized that every week, when I watch Glee, I have never once seen a commercial for Dollhouse. Come on FOX.

I have found this website, which I like. Check it out, and PLEASE check out Dollhouse if you haven't already.

UPDATE

Up next: New Jersey state of mind...

Lost In Translation: Finding Yourself

Clerks didn't really register as an independent movie to me immediately when I saw it because I knew that it had mainstream successors (and the only thing I knew about indie films at the time was that they existed and that their fans had a reputation for being pretentious). Lost In Translation on the other hand triggered some weird awakening in me. This was a different kind of movie, one that didn't rely on storytelling, but rather on characters and imagery (note: not all indie films lack plots, the way these three do; Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Little Miss Sunshine, and Juno all have concrete stories).

The film is little more than a series of encounters between Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson, two actors I highly admire, as they try to figure out their lives in Tokyo. Murray plays Bob, an aging actor. He became famous and rich for making movies, but now he is in Tokyo filming a Suntory Whisky (the Japanese spell whiskey without an "e") commercial. There are few things he'd rather be doing; he sees the job as beneath him and he doesn't fit in with Japanese culture (he also stands about 1.5 feet above everyone else, making him stick out and creating troubles in the shower due to a very low shower head). Johansson plays Charlotte, a new wife who is having an existential crisis; her husband is a photographer who never has time for her, and she defines herself relative to him. She came with him to Tokyo because he is shooting a new band, but the few times he is around, he is with other artistic types who confuse and put off Charlotte.

Bored and uncomfortable, the two have a chance encounter one night in the Park Hyatt Hotel Bar, and they start a friendship based on their shared ennui. They discuss their lives and try to help each other put things into perspective. Bob is long past the stage of his life where he is still figuring out who he is and what he wants to do. But Charlotte shows him that people are worth being around and that people have a spark in them that must be properly ignited. Bob's marriage is not failing, but it has become routine, and he and his wife are almost a business partnership than a romantic couple. Charlotte is kind of the same way with her husband, and when she comes to life with Bob, he sees that everyone just needs the right attention and stimulus.

When the two aren't together (and when Bob isn't working), they go to various places around Japan to try and take in whatever culture they can. The ulterior motive for this is to show the audience breathtakingly beautiful shots of Japan. I could almost watch a 90 minute film of the two of these characters going to various temples, gardens, and mountains, and still enjoy it.

Up next: Bringing down the house?...

LOST: The Final Countdown

Strangely enough, the Up Next line from the last post may also refer to the next movie in the post series. However, I wanted to get this up. The Season Poster for the sixth and final season of LOST was released a few weeks back, and I wanted to talk about it, but I waited for a better image to be released online (the first image I found was a photograph from some fan convention, so there was a big glare). The writers have stated that the final season will not only wrap up the entire series, but will also serve as kind of mirror of the rest of the series. Hence, the poster strongly resembles the Season 1 Poster, with the characters standing in a line on uneven terrain with the color slightly washed out. However, nearly every character who has ever been a regular on the show (outside of Nikki, Paulo, and, strangely, Walt), along with a few who have never been regulars but have played major roles, is present. Also noteworthy is that Locke, who is still dead (remember, that was Titus impersonating him on the island in Season 5), has his back turned to the audience. Finally, the letters spelling LOST are full of hieroglyphs.

Just wanted to share this info. Also, I have posted all the Season Posters except for Season 2, so I am doing that now:

Up next: Alone in a sea of people...

Clerks: In the Beginning

The post title not only refers to Clerks being my gateway into the world of independent film, but also refers to it being the first of six movies to take place in the same fictional universe, tied together by two characters. Jay and Silent Bob. I tried really hard not to see this movie because of them. I saw part of Dogma a few years after it came out and before all my tastes and preferences fully developed. I was probably a sophomore in high school when I saw the few scenes that I did (it came out the year before I started high school), and I was really turned off by it. Jay especially didn't sit right with me. A few months later, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back was released, and all the trailers looked horrible. I realized that there were a few movies featuring the characters, and decided to avoid them. Then one day, I was at a friend's house, and Clerks came on. I didn't realize it was a "Jay and Silent Bob movie" at first, but when I did, I wanted to change the channel. He told me I'd enjoy the movie. He was right.

Clerks is both very good and very bad, but a lot of its badness isn't the fault of writer/director Kevin Smith. Smith made the movie for $28,000 and it certainly shows. There is no elaborate editing, no one is a professional actor, the lighting in the outdoor scenes at night is pretty bad, and the fact that it is in black and white was a practical, rather than artistic, choice (not that being in black and white makes a movie "bad"). Smith spent nearly every cent he had making the movie. Most people told him he was an idiot for wasting everything on some film, but he ended up becoming one of those rare successes because the movie ended up grossing over $3 million.

The story follows convenience store clerk Dante Hicks, a twenty-something whose life has gone nowhere. He is a college dropout who still lives at home and works at the local convenience store, and constantly feels sorry for himself that he has such a shitty life. Over the course of a day, which was supposed to be his day off, we watch him deal with bizarre customers, local drug pushers (Jay and Silent Bob), people he went to high school with, and his unfaithful ex-girlfriend. He also puts up with/barely tolerates Randal Graves, the clerk at the adjoining video (as in videocassette) rental place who is supposed to be his best friend. Unlike the reserved and repressed Dante, Randal is chaos personified; everywhere he goes, some kind of ruin eventually follows. He usually (hilariously) mistreats customers much to Dante's chagrin (mainly because he is left cleaning up the mess), but he is also responsible for one of the most depraved events the movie never reveals (unless you watch the Lost Scene on the 10th Anniversary DVD). Randal is also the funniest character in the movie, even though actor Jeff Anderson, who had never acted before, had some trouble with some of his line readings.

Like the other two movies to be featured, there isn't really a story to speak of. Rather, Clerks is composed of a series of events at a convenience store. It is an intense look at the life of a convenience store clerk (or one from mid-90s Jersey), focusing on the bad hours, strange people, and potentially only coping mechanisms for putting up with the job. In a sense, it shows two sides of the job; on one hand, Randal represents a slacker's dream, watching movies all day, hanging out with his best friend in a low-stress environment, and eating/drinking free junk food/Gatorade. Dante represents the person who is stuck in a dead-end, unsatisfying job (Randal is too, to a degree, which is why I am reluctant to say that the film presents both sides). He wants a better job, a better life, but is too lazy and/or stubborn to go for it.

Clerks is hilarious for its look at the life of a clerk as well as for its pop culture references. Smith sold his extensive comic book collection to help finance the movie, and his love of films, television, and comics clearly shines through in his writing. The independent-contractors-on-the-Death-Star discussion, the salsa shark, the terrible movie choices of the customers are all amazing scenes that help geeks feel better by showing that they aren't alone.

Up next: Getting LOST one last time...

Going Indie

I think I've said before that the time from the summer before my senior year of high school to the summer before my freshman year of college was a very important period for my current tastes in entertainment. They were certainly developed when I got to college, but I doubt I would have had a chance to develop them if the foundation was laid during those 15 months. The year before, I started watching 24 during its second season, and that was the first heavily serialized show that I watched regularly. Most other things I watched were silly sitcoms that, for the most part, had almost no overarching plot (I think Drew Carey came the closest). But during that time, I started watching Buffy, Angel, Firefly, and Stargate SG-1. The first three are still shows that I adore, and although I have all but abandoned the Stargate franchise (SG-1 did have some incredible episodes, and the new series looks like it could be enjoyable if it can adequately use what made Battlestar Galactica amazing without ripping it off), it was important for me to get in to that show because, in some ways, it served as a springboard into better shows. After all, people could make compelling arguments that if I liked that, I would like other shows. (My freshman year of college also helped because Galactica, LOST, and Veronica Mars all debuted that year.)

But that time was also my introduction to independent films. I doubt I'd seen a single independent film before those 15 months, or if I had, I either don't remember it, or it became so big and mainstream as to not qualify anymore. During the summer before my freshman year of college, I saw three films that opened the doorway to my love of indie films (don't get me wrong, as this site demonstrates, I am by no means opposed to studio films). Clerks, Lost in Translation, and Garden State each introduced me to something new, and made me realize that there was a whole world of film that most people didn't even know about.

Up next: 37 salsa sharks...

Zombieland: The Rules of Life

I wasn't sure I was going to see this when I first saw the trailer, but the more I saw of it, the more interested I got, and when all the positive reviews started getting released, I actually got excited. I think the only other zombie movie I've seen is (the incredible) Shaun of the Dead, which is also a comedic approach to the genre. Like Inglourious Basterds (in many ways, actually*), Zombieland isn't a great movie, but it is an incredibly fun and entertaining movie. Both movies know what they want to do and they set about achieving their goals extremely well (and the more that I think about them, because they are both so well-executed, I may need to stop using the "not-a-good-movie" line on them).

So the zombiepocalypse has happened. In Zombieland, the zombies are not undead; rather, they are diseased (some dude ate a bad burger at a truck stop, his brain degenerated from a virus, and he developed an anger problem and insatiable hunger for human flesh). Most of the United States has been turned into zombies, and only the strong and the smart have survived. Columbus (not a single character in the film, with one notable exception, goes by his or her real name; most people go by where they lived... this extended to Columbus' neighbor in Apt. 406 because he didn't know her name) may be timid and meek (he lives in a post zombiepocalyptic world, and clowns are still his number one fear), but he is smart. He developed a set of rules to live by that kept him alive. The top four are "Cardio" (the "fatties" were the first to go, according to Columbus), "Double Tap" (never assume that a zombie is down for the count), "Avoid Bathrooms" (you are never more vulnerable than when your pants are down), and "Seatbelts" (good tip even before the zombiepocalypse). These in addition to various other rules have served him well enough in the few months since America fell apart.

Columbus begins the film by lamenting the fact that he was always content to be a loner in life, but now that he truly is alone, he misses what he never had. One day, he comes across another non-zombie, Tallahassee, who has survived through sheer brute force. Unlike Columbus, who kills zombies only when he is out of other options (like running away), Tallahassee makes a point to kill every zombie he comes across. He is better armed than Columbus, but more reckless. The two decide to stick together in order to have some human contact, even though neither can stand the other at first. They soon meet Wichita and Little Rock, a pair of sisters who are small-time con artists. The sisters have gotten by based on their cunning; when they need something, they take it from unsuspecting people, including Columbus and Tallahassee. Despite a rocky introduction, the four eventually become a unit, traveling west together to find a place where the zombies haven't gotten yet. At first, I rolled my eyes when I heard about the archetypical "mythic-place-where-this-trouble-hasn't-yet-penetrated" (yet for whatever reason, I just went with it when Dollhouse introduced the idea of Safe Haven), but when Tallahassee pointed out that such stories are usually myths, and once you get to the place, the people there state that they had heard that the mythic place was where the adventurers had come from. Also, I'm somewhat surprised that Wichita and Little Rock didn't immediately join with Columbus and Tallahassee, because, in my opinion, a group of between 4 and 8 would be ideal for existing in a zombiepocalypse (I've put way too much thought into this). More than 8 is too many to keep track of, but with at least four, no one will ever be alone if you have to split up into groups.

The zombies in the movie are certainly dangerous, but the movie is mainly about showing the characters trying to make the best of a (very) bad situation. They do what they want when they want. They raid a supermarket in Tallahassee's seemingly futile quest for Twinkees (note: Sno Balls fucking rock), they destroy a tourist trap souvenir shop to blow off steam, they break into Bill Murray's house to live the life of luxury (the best scene in the movie occurs in Murray's home theater), and every now and then, they take immense pleasure in zombie killing. Tallahassee is constantly trying to achieve the coveted "Zombie Kill of the Week" award, which, no matter how hard he tries, he will likely never beat the nun who dropped a piano on a zombie's head. In fact, Columbus' latest rule, which he learned from Tallahassee, is "Enjoy the Little Things."

This movie is incredibly fun, and although the climax requires Wichita and Little Rock to do something EXTREMELY stupid (the theme park where there are no zombies has no zombies because there are no people there, but when you turn on all the lights and music, it becomes a zombie invitation), it is amazing to watch the characters use the rides as a means of zombie killing. The movie won't win any awards, but it is a fantastic way to spend 90 minutes.

Up next: My indie entrance...

*Both movies are about killing people/things that have little or no sympathy. In an installment of Bleep Bloop sponsored by the makers of Zombieland, the commentators referred to Nazis and zombies as the perfect villains because no one cares about killing them. Also both movies feature a character saying something along the lines of "I'm in the business of killing Nazis/zombies and business is booming."

Big Fan: Religious War

I am not a sports fan. I do not understand sports rivalries, Super Bowl Sunday is just another day, and March Madness lives up to its name for when I tell the 1000th person each year that, no, I do not want to be a part of your bracket, I nearly go insane. I also don't like, for the most part, sports movies. Like romantic comedies, the hit-to-miss ratio for me seems extremely skewed, with nearly 100% of them being about how some ragtag group of misfits overcomes their differences and wins the big game (yes, I know Rocky didn't win in Rocky and I know that I watch things like Glee which is about a group of misfits, but it subverts more stereotypes and cliches than it subscribes to). So one would not think that I'd be as excited for Big Fan as I was, but Big Fan isn't about sports. It is about fandom, nay, devotion, religious fanaticism. And as a fanboy, I can relate on some level.

The trailer refers to football as one of America's most wide-spread religion, and I certainly believe that's true (just like pop culture fandom; my personal gods are Joss Whedon, Neil Gaiman, Tina Fey, Brian K. Vaughan, and Steven Spielberg). The level of devotion people show to sports teams is incredible; people live and die by how well a group of people they've never met perform in games that have no consequences except for the players getting paid millions of dollars and the citizens of the city they represent getting bragging rights until the next game/year. I remember when I was still an undergrad in Ann Arbor, half my fraternity got severe depression when the Tigers lost the World Series. A few years earlier, Boston and Chicago went crazy when their teams won the World Series in consecutive years. Of course, the same could be said of people who are too into film/TV/books/comics (on one side, we "get to know" the people involved, but on the other, none of them actually exist). For the most part, in American society, a sports fanatic is more accepted than the fanatic devoted to fictional worlds. But Big Fan introduces us to Paul Aufiero, a sports fan who is so obsessed with the New York Giants that he has alienated nearly everyone in his life.

The Giants are all Paul cares about. He works in a parking garage taking tickets, earning minimum wage. He lives with his mother and spends his days writing speeches that he presents as off-the-cuff on a late-night sports call-in show. He and Sal, his only friend, think that his calls are pure brilliance, philosophy even, when in reality, he only inarticulately states that the Giants will win the upcoming game and engages in a battle of "wits" with a Philadelphia Eagles fan who calls in (the equivalent of a flame war). When he is forced to spend time with his family, he couldn't be more depressed; at his nephew's birthday party, he spends the whole time moping. But he's his happiest when he goes to every home Giants game... even though he doesn't have the money to actually buy a ticket. Paul and Sal actually spend gas money to drive to Giants Stadium and jerryrig their engine to power a small TV set in the parking lot.

Paul's life changes when he gets the chance to meet his favorite player at a club. While eating at a small pizza joint in Staten Island, Paul and Sal see the player and follow him to Manhattan in an effort to say hi. High on coke, the player becomes enraged upon learning that they stalked him and beat Paul within an inch of his life. When he woke up three days later in the hospital, his lawyer brother encouraged him to file suit while a Manhattan cop who seemed all-too-eager to put the player away tried to get Paul to reveal details of the event. But the player is Paul's god, and he will not betray him. After the player's long suspension is lifted, Paul blames himself for letting the player get "rusty," which results in the Giants losing the game. Paul's brother eventually filed suit in Paul's name, claiming that Paul was incompetent and that someone had to manage his affairs on his behalf. And a good case could be made for Paul being incompetent. He is very much a man-child in the way that many films and TV shows portray grown comic book fans. He is unwilling to address that he has an addiction/obsession and resorts to childish defense mechanisms when confronted, which usually involves raising his voice and going into hysterics.

The shit really hits the fan for him when the Philadelphia fan, who is definitely a devoted follower of football but is not as debilitatingly affected as Paul, learns that "Paul from Staten Island" on the radio show is the same Paul who filed (so it seems to the world at large) a lawsuit against his favorite player. Philadelphia Phil and Paul's mother simultaneously push him a little too far one night while he is on the phone with the sports show that Paul starts swearing, causing the show to cut off his call. All this pushes Paul to engage in what may amount to a one-man religious war against Philadelphia Phil and the Eagles. I don't know if writer/director Robert Siegel meant for us to feel this, or maybe it's just my own views on religion, but I saw Paul as someone who believed he was fighting in the name of his church (the Giants) and his god (the player), while the player did not give two thoughts about him. To Paul, he was nobly sacrificing himself by choosing not to sue, thinking he would earn forgiveness or favor with the player, who probably didn't care about him at all. If anything, he only felt more anger because of his suspension. I also don't know if this was done because a large number of people in Staten Island are devout Catholics (as in, I don't know whether they are or not) or if it was done for juxtaposition, but Paul and his family were likely very religious (as noted by all the religious items in their cars, as well as some conversations the characters had together), and it was interesting to see Paul mock Christianity in certain ways (some of which were merited, notably the conversation he had with his mom about what was worse, him saying that his brother fucked his secretary while married to someone else, or for his brother to actually do it after his mother scolded him for saying that his brother fucked the secretary) while he illogically and unwaveringly devoted himself to the Giants.

I had the good fortune of seeing this movie at a special screening in which Patton Oswalt and Robert Siegel attended and gave a Q&A session at the close, and the pair were great.

Up next: Clowns to the left of me, zombies to the right...

Glee: Something To Love

Ok, allow me to geek out before getting into the actual post: THEY DID "SOMEBODY TO LOVE" ON GLEE THIS WEEK! AND KRISTEN CHENOWETH WAS ON!

Anyway, despite the still very-real flaws, Glee continuously proves to be extremely fun and entertaining. The story is very good for the most part, showing a "high-school-is-hell" world that doesn't rely on actual demons to make the point (not that Buffy needed them to make the point, and in doing so, told stories that Glee will never be able to tell) and positing on how far people will go to reach their dreams, no matter how much their decisions affect other people. Plus, the show features amazing musical numbers performed by amazing singers and dancers. And yet...

I really like this show, yet there are times when I wonder why. The chief sin of "The Rhodes Not Taken" was the efficient wrap-up of two storylines that should have had much messier resolutions. First, Rachel returned to the club a week after quitting, and second, April Rhodes willingly left the club when she had a realization of how her presence was impacting the club. Let's start with Rachel. She certainly had reason to want to leave the musical; Sandy was treating her horribly and was abusing his power as director (which he shouldn't even have; he only got his job back because Sue blackmailed the principal). Yet I would think that she would be somewhat willing to put up with a terrible director if it meant exposure as the lead in the school musical. And then when Sue gave her full creative control in the production (how does Sue have the power to do that?), she realized that she still didn't get what she wanted. But she only told us this. We did not see how this new level of power affected her, and I would think that someone as driven and conceited as Rachel would ignore any misgivings resulting from her new role.

As for the April storyline, April specifically stated that she wasn't going to give up her new position in the Glee Club because she was getting her second chance. She was clearly more talented than any member of the club, and a second chance was something she had been dreaming about for years. And then, after stunning the crowd with the first song, she suddenly realized that she was hurting the dreams and chances of the kids. April didn't really seem like the kind of person who could develop such complex and selfless thoughts. But the writers needed her out of the way. They could have had Will forcibly remove her (he could certainly have her arrested for certain things) or Emma could have tried to do something. Instead, she left willingly.

And yet, I almost feel like those gripes don't even matter. Glee remains simultaneously hilarious and sad and the musical numbers always blow me away (those two factors plus Chenoweth's appearance this year opened my wounds from Pushing Daisies' cancellation). April's website and message ("Bring Buffalo wings."), Emma's reaction to Kurt puking on her (her facial expression and trip to the hospital), Puck's snide comment about Bert and Ernie were all great.

And then there was Finn trying to get Rachel to come back by convincing her that she had a shot with him, only for her to learn that he only did it for his own personal gain and that Quinn is pregnant, which provided a lot of sadness this week. And Will's blind adoration of April, despite the current state of her life, continued to show how devoted Will is to the idea of Glee Club as opposed to the people who are currently in the club. In an effort to ensure the club will carry on, he put the dreams of the kids on hold by introducing a ringer. Not only that, he basically overlooked the negative influence April placed on the club because he felt that he was serving the greater good by keeping April around. Emma had to assert herself against Will, the man she secretly loves unconditionally, and make him see what he was doing.

So I'd say that after weighing the positives against the negatives of "The Rhodes Not Taken," the episode is definitely a winner. I really hope that the show fixes its problems, but they always present themselves in hindsight; when I actually watch the show, I have a blast. And the fact that they finally did "Somebody To Love" tonight ensured that I would love the episode on some level.

Up next: Good news, sports Fans...