Mystery Science Theater 3000: Simply Hilarious

Sorry to interrupt your regularly scheduled post on Persepolis, but I saw something today that took me by surprise. If you've never heard of a little show (extreme emphasis on "little"; the show prided itself on its ultra-low budget) called Mystery Science Theater 3000, proceed to slap yourself. The premise was simple, so simple in fact that the SAME THING happened every episode, and yet it was always hilarious; a man and his two robot friends are forced to watch horrible Z-list movies, and in order to save their sanity, they mercilessly mock them. Anyway, the thing that happened today was that the theatrical film was rereleased on DVD after being sparsely available for years. In celebration of this cult show, I am doing a brief post to attempt to bring about a little awareness.

In contrast to pretty much every other TV show I've chronicled, I haven't seen nearly the majority of the total number of episodes. I think that I could use my two hands to count how many episodes I've seen. However, as I said above, the same thing happens in every episode. The plot of the show is this: a mad scientist hatches an evil plot to achieve world domination by driving the human race insane by making them watch the world's worst movie. In an effort to determine what movie that is, he puts his janitor on a spaceship and puts him in orbit, and forces him to watch some of the worst movies ever made. To keep his sanity, the dude builds himself two robot buddies from materials lying around the ship, and the three of them mock the films to no end. That is what the majority of run time of each episode consists of, three shadows watching terrible movies and making awesome jokes.

Over the course of the series, there are two hosts, Joel and Mike. I've never seen an episode with Joel, since the person who introduced me to the show was fervently opposed to Joel (even though he had never seen an episode with him either; he based this judgment on favorable descriptions of Joel's "sleepy" style), but I've thoroughly enjoyed the Mike episodes that I've seen.

The movies featured are exercises in stamina; without Joel/Mike and the Bots' commentary, they would be completely unwatchable. Absolutely nothing works in any of them. The story and dialogue sound like they were written by toddlers (wow, I just insulted toddlers), and the production values are lower than those of the frame show. And unlike MST3K, which highlights its low budgetness and thin plots (in the theme song, the lyrics remind viewers to not worry about how Joel/Mike eats, breathes, and "other science facts", since it it just a TV show), the movies tend to take themselves very seriously. And yet, some of the things they make fun of in the movies include the world's worst editing (a scene begins with two of the main characters, and halfway through, an alternate take that included the third main character was spliced in), terrible continuity (in a terrible space opera film from the 80s, about one minute after a character died, she showed up at her post), and they comment on how one movie tried to cover up its low quality by including clips and plot elements from a great movie (Casablanca).

It's hard to think that these movies could be so bad, but they are. The jokes never stop, and their variety (some are intellectual, some are juvenile, and others are completely random) keeps the episodes lively. Incredibly, the movie used for Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie, called This Island Earth is actually an OK movie. It's no masterpiece, but compared to the rest of series, it's not bad. This only makes the jokes even funnier, knowing that the writers could probably take on Oscar winners and still be hilarious.

The show lasted eleven years, which is incredible to think about since it is such a relatively unheard of show outside of college campuses. Hopefully, this post will inspire you to check it out if you haven't already.

Up next: Back to foreign films...

The Lives of Others: Moonlight Sonata

I almost didn't see this one. I didn't even know it existed until it beat Pan's Labyrinth for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar (I know that these posts make it sound like I put a lot of stock into the Academy Awards, but I really don't; Pan's was just such an experience for me that I couldn't believe that anything else could be better). And even then, this was just "That German Movie That Beat Pan's". But that changed when it became a class assignment. In my sociological theory class, one of the assignments was to attend three outside sociological texts. Buying a ticket to this movie and sitting through it counted as one, while writing a sociological analysis of it counted as another one, so I decided that it would be more fun than a few of the other options, and I could find out if it was truly better than Pan's Labyrinth. The short end to the story is that it's not. The long answer is as follows.

The story takes place in East Germany a few years before the fall of the Berlin Wall. The movie opens with a title card explaining the secret police force, known as the Stasi, whose stated goal is to, "know everything" (you gotta hand it to these guys for their honesty in their STATED purpose; I wonder what their latent purpose was!). The first scene introduces us to Wiesler, a die-hard believer in the state and the Stasi. His methods of interrogation are intense (to say the least), and he trains new recruits to be ruthless towards the people who would seek to bring down East Germany or flee to the West. The story is set up when Wiesler's superiors task him to set up surveillance on a playwright named Dreyman. Dreyman is the only non-subversive writer to be popular in both East and West Germany, which seems to counteract the need for surveillance, but the Stasi brass claim that they fear that he is only building up good favor in order to, out of nowhere, release a powerful anti-communist piece.

Soon, Dreyman's apartment is bugged, and Wiesler sets up a listening station that is monitored solely by himself and a subordinate who receives endless criticism from Wiesler. As time goes by, we see more of the lives of both Wiesler and Dreyman. Dreyman is a success both because and in spite of his government; he wishes for more artistic freedom, but is happy to oblige with his government. He lives a happy live with his beautiful girlfriend, Christa-Maria, and has meaningful relationships with his friends (even though they can be strained at times due to some anti-state sentiments present in some of them). Wiesler, on the other hand, leads a very lonely life. He is kind of like a grown up version of the schoolyard snitch; he has few (if any) friends since he would gladly turn in anyone ballsy enough to utter any anti communist sentiments. He relies on whores for companionship and is married to his work. As time goes on, he begins to envy the man he is watching.

If that wasn't strange enough, we learn the truth behind the surveillance; a high-ranking party member has a thing for Christa-Maria, and believes that if Dreyman can be arrested for ANYTHING, Christa-Maria will be his for the taking (sounds a little Sweeney Todd-ish). This obviously upsets Wiesler, but the last straw comes when he overhears a recorded song Dreyman received for his birthday.

Meanwhile, one of Dreyman's friends commits suicide due to the inability to work after being blacklisted. This causes Dreyman to lose HIS faith in the state, and he begins to do what the Stasi "feared" he would do, and begins work on a subversive story that is to be published in the West. As Dreyman attempts to stay under the radar, Wiesler begins fudging the logs to keep the man he has grown to admire safe.

As I said, The Lives of Others is, in my opinion, not as good as Pan's Labyrinth. However, it is still an incredible movie. It's too bad both films were released in the same year, since both deserved every award they were nominated for and/or won. The film paints a scary picture of life under an oppressive state, and is both uplifting and depressing at the same time. In a time when warrant-less wiretaps are a reality, this movie is incredibly relevant.

Up next: Persepolis...

Pan's Labyrinth: War, Fantasy, Horror

I still remember when I first started hearing about this movie. I started reading glowing reviews of the trailer on fanboy news sites. Eventually, I saw the poster and was intrigued, but cautious, since I initially thought it was a follow-up to Jim Henson's production of Labyrinth, starring David Bowie. I did not like that movie very much (paradoxically, I really enjoyed MirrorMask, which was also produced by the Jim Henson Company and had a lot of similarities), and did not want to see it again. These fears were quickly put to rest when I learned that Pan's was a movie that took place in Spain after its Civil War in the 1940s and had a storyline that involved the fascist regime that took power. But finally, I saw the trailer, which pushed me into being full-on obsessed with seeing this movie:



Everything about the trailer clicked for me; the set-up of the story, the haunting score, and the monster effects. If the movie ended up being only 75% as awesome as the trailer made it look, I'd have been happy. Fortunately, Pan's Labyrinth was everything we were promised. And more.

There are essentially two stories in the film that influence each other and tie into each other both thematically and dramatically. The first is the story that is advertised; the story of Ofelia and the fairy tale world of the Labyrinth. Ofelia is a young girl who has been unfortunate enough to have to grow up in a world embroiled in war. The film takes place in 1944, meaning that in addition to living through the Spanish Civil War, there was nowhere for her family to escape to, since the rest of Europe was experiencing World War II. In order to escape the horrors that make up everyday life for her, she retreats into her fairy tale books, which feature princesses and happy endings. Her father died during the war, and her mother has remarried a captain in the fascist army, and are relocating to the countryside where he is stationed to quell the resistance. Once there, Ofelia discovers things that will alter the course of her life.

An ancient labyrinth sits next to the captain's house, and she immediately is drawn to it. However, Mercedes, one of the servants at the house, warns against it, citing the possibility of getting lost within. But at night, Ofelia is visited by a fairy that leads her into the heart of the maze where she meets a faun (despite the English title, it is not the Greek god Pan, but just an "average" faun) who tells her that she is the reincarnated soul of the princess of an underground kingdom.

From here, Ofelia's story is about how she attempts to complete three tasks to become worthy to reenter her kingdom. These scenes involve some of the most beautiful imagery I've seen on celluloid in a long time. The tree of the toad to the lair of the Pale Man each have a horrifying beauty to them; the tree is gnarled and dead, but these qualities add to its mystery and appeal. And the Pale Man's lair is dangerous in the "it's too quiet" sense, but viewers can't help but experience awe in addition to terror.

The other story is about the war and rebellion. Captain Vidal ruthlessly pursues a group of freedom fighters rebelling against the fascist regime that came to power. The rebels have to endure hellish conditions in the forest, while the army enjoys the creature comforts of having a home filled with servants. And as we watch Ofelia face her fears in the form of fantasy creatures, Vidal proves to be the real-life basis, as he commits acts even more heinous than the most terrifying of monsters.

Their two stories meet at the end, leading to an incredibly powerful ending that has led to a fair amount of debate between fans, despite the fact that writer/director Guillermo del Toro has come out and said what he believes "really" happened. The ending initially comes off as ambiguous, and my initial interpretation led me to believe what most of my friends who saw it also concluded. However, upon further examination, I realized that the opposite had to be true in order for a few events to make sense. On the DVD, del Toro confirmed my thoughts by pointing out 3 details (I picked up on two of them myself) that only make sense if it ends a certain way. However, my initial viewpoint (which many people still hold true) has plenty of merit.

Everything about this movie works. In addition to what I've already said, the musical score and sound mix are incredible. The score is centered around a haunting (as you can see, there a definite degree of horror in this fantasy film) lullaby, and nearly every sound effect is amplified to make this a visual and aural treat. The only thing I would have changed (and this is pretty much the only complaint I've ever heard anyone make about the movie) is that I would have added more scenes in the fantasy world. Compared to the real world storyline, the amount of fantasy scenes seem almost paltry by comparison.

If you haven't picked up on it yet, this is no kids' movie. One of my friends made fun of me for wanting to see a children's fairy tale movie, but this is anything but. The R rating is well-deserved, seeing as how violent the war scenes are and how scary some of the fantasy sequences are. I actually saw this film twice in theaters and the second time was with an ex-girlfriend, who jumped out of her seat at nearly every monster sequence. This is a story that shows the horrors of real life filtered through the eyes of a child. One of my favorite quotes about stories involves Neil Gaiman; Terry Pratchett commented on Gaiman's Coraline (which was written as a children's story) that true horror is born in children's fairy tales, and Pan's Labyrinth is a perfect illustration of that concept.

This was one of my favorite films of 2006, and that includes English-speaking films as well. Interestingly, all three of the three people I refer to as the three "Great Mexican Directors" (they are all friends and make movies with fairly similar subject matter; there is even a feature on the DVD with all three of them talking about their movies) made movies in 2006, all of which were highly lauded. In addition to del Toro's Pan's Labyrinth, Alfonso Cuaron made Children of Men (also awesome), and Alejandro Inarritu made Babel. As I said, all three were very well received and won many awards and accolades, but I felt that Pan's deserved more than it got. It was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film (but lost to the next entry on my list), but wasn't nominated for Best Picture (but Babel was). I think that The Departed was definitely deserving, but this may in fact have been the best film of the year.

Up next: Das Leben der Anderen...

A Few Foreign Films

This is by no means a comprehensive series of foreign films worth seeing (I myself still need to see Amelie, which has been on my to-do list since my sophomore year of college), but after seeing Lust, Caution last week, I decided that it's time to at least bring up a few of my favorites.

I will do overviews of at least four films, each of a different language. Pan's Labyrinth (Spanish), The Lives of Others (German), Persepolis (French), and Lust, Caution (Chinese). I may add in Cowboy Bebop: The Movie (Japanese), but I am still deciding whether or not to do so, since (1) I already did a series on Cowboy Bebop (though in retrospect, it wasn't my best, and I didn't really touch on the film) and (2) I have never actually watched the film in Japanese. Of the little anime that I've seen, Bebop is the only one with a truly spectacular English dub.

These are all films that are incredibly good, but I have a reason for writing about them aside from my enjoyment of them. Foreign films aren't mainstream in America, and while it is not exactly rare to meet someone else who has seen these films (especially Pan's Labyrinth, which is probably one of the most talked-about foreign films to come along in a while), there are people who refuse to watch movies with subtitles. I hope that this series will change their minds.

Up next: El Laberinto del Fauno...

Sweeney Todd: The Most Talented Cast On Earth

So last night, I finally was able to see Sweeney Todd live, and it was certainly not what I was expecting. I have seen a few YouTube videos of Len Cariou and Angela Lansbury in the original Broadway production, and it was a "regular" show. It had various sets, one of which was a raised room that was the barber shop, which stood over the pie shop. And, like most musicals, the actors did not double as the orchestra. Wait, what?!

When my father and I got to the theater, we noticed that there was no orchestra in the Pit, and we were perplexed. I started reading the Playbill, and noticed that the actors were listed next to lists of instruments, I half-suggested that the actors would play their own instruments. But how would that work? But when the show started, we saw that the only 10 actors in the show each had instruments, and sang and played simultaneously (if the given instrument allowed for it).

Throughout the show, the 10 actors played their roles as well as an average of 3 instruments each (some played up to 4 or 5, while the actor playing Jonas Fogg only played the bass, and the actress playing Johanna only played the cello). And when they weren't acting or playing, they were moving the furniture on the set around to create new locations. There was one set, but the furniture would signify different areas.

In retrospect, I don't know why this set-up surprised me so much. I've seen pictures of the actors performing while playing (I have one in a previous post!), but for some reason, I never thought it would work. And yet, the production worked beautifully. From what I read, the show was reformatted for a West End production due to budgetary constraints. But the show works so beautifully that the tour chose keep the style.

Keeping every major character in the show on stage during every scene adds to the intimacy of the story. This is a musical that has no dancing and is based entirely on raw emotion. The actors stay in character even when they are not a part of the scene; the Beggar Woman always moves with a shaky gait while Tobias had a latent insanity behind his movements. At times, the use of instruments even infuses a little bit of humor into the extremely dark show. When Mrs. Lovett walks around with an enormous tuba to announce the new and improved pie shop, the visual is priceless.

Sadly, I did have a few complaints, but they were about the actors themselves, not the way the show was produced. Unfortunately, the actors playing Sweeney Todd and Anthony were not the strongest that I've seen/heard, and the songs, "Epiphany" and "Johanna (1 and 3)", which are usually some of my favorites, were mediocre at best.

I want to end with a few things that were not important, but I feel like mentioning anyway. I loved the way the show opened; the curtain came up and we see Toby gagged and bound in a straight jacket, looking absolutely horrified. And the other is that in this production, Pirelli is played by a woman. I never thought that I would think of that character as being very attractive (remember, Sacha Baron "Borat" Cohen played him in the film), but damn!

Up next: Foreign films...

Good Omens: God's Sense Of Humor

Had I written this post but a week ago, I would have opened with a touching story about a special significance this book has to me. Sadly, this is no longer relevant. Fortunately, the book itself remains awesome.

This book can be a hard sell to some; it is best summed up as a comedy about the end of the world, which can be slightly off-putting to some. One of the review blurbs in my edition refers to it as, "The Book of Revelations, as told by Monty Python", which is another good description, but once again can turn some people off (mainly people who thought that Life of Brian was blasphemous garbage). But like many satires that target organized religion (Life of Brian, Saved!, Dogma), the goal of Good Omens is not to bring down Christianity, but to point out a few of its shortcomings and foibles.

According to Gaiman, the book evolved from a short story idea he had that eventually became Adam's story in the book. Adam, by the way, is the Antichrist. Gaiman was unsure where to take the story, and he began talking to friend and fellow author Terry Pratchett. Based on the way they describe each other in the afterward sections, I joked that Pratchett is a humor writer with a good sense of sci-fi/fantasy while Gaiman is a sci-fi/fantasy writer with a good sense of humor. Eventually, they began working on a much bigger story together.

While a few different plots intertwine in Good Omens, I believe that it is safe to say that the main characters are an angel, Aziraphale, and a demon, Crowley, both of whom have been stationed on Earth since at least the Garden of Eden. Over the roughly 2000 years they've known each other, Aziraphale and Crowley have formed a sort of friendship, described in the book as similar to that of American and Soviet agents who spend more time embedded with each other than with their distant superiors. They often get together to discuss the plans of the universe and pick apart ideas humanity has towards God and Satan. They have also come to understand humanity much better than any of their Heaven- or Hell-based compatriots (Crowley understands that it is easier to do one small bad deed and let humans react poorly than to try to perform difficult, hands-on methods when trying to get people to commit acts that will lead to Hell).

Since they have some divine powers, life on Earth has been pretty good for them, especially Crowley, who indulges in many of life's luxuries without have to earn or pay for them. He owns a large London apartment, a vintage sports car (which does not require him to purchase fuel, except once when he wanted some free giveaway prize that came with a gasoline purchase), and can sleep through entire decades if he so chooses. Therefore, when news comes that the time of the Antichrist is upon the world, they are both somewhat upset that their cozy time on Earth will end within twelve years, but they understand that the plans are much bigger than either of them. Crowley is the demon responsible for making sure the baby Antichrist is placed with the correct family, that of an American diplomat living in England (if you've ever seen the 1976 film, The Omen, feel free to laugh now). Unfortunately, the Satanic Nuns running the hospital fumble the switch, and a random British family from a rural town end up with the baby by accident (if you aren't already chuckling, now is the time to start).

Eleven years pass, and Aziraphale and Crowley have continued to meet, and have occasionally checked in on Warlock, the boy believed to be the Antichrist. But when a portent fails to occur (or at least fails to occur to Warlock), the pair realize what has happened, and are horrified when they think of what might happen to them if their bosses find out. They start looking for the baby, who is now going by the name of Adam.

As the story progresses, we are introduced to multiple other storylines; for example Adam and his friends, who compose a gang known as "Them", are a key storyline, as we see how he transforms from "innocent" young boy into the potential destroyer of the world. Of course, this being a satire and all, Adam isn't going to destroy the world because he is evil, but because he is a child! Yeah. Think about it for a second. Then there is Anathema Device and Newt Pulsifer, two characters brought together by a bizarre twist of fate. Anathema is the last surviving descendant of Agnes Nutter, a witch, and the most accurate seer in history (unfortunately, since she had no words for some of the things she saw in her visions, such as motorcycles, it was sometimes hard to decipher what her prophecies meant until after the events had occurred). Newt is the newest member of the witch hunter army, and the descendant of the witch hunter who put Nutter to death by burning at the stake. The story of Anathema and Newt follows them trying to find the Antichrist themselves in order to prevent the end of the world.

Finally, the gathering of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse slowly occurs over the course of the book. Alone, each of them causes their dreaded name to occur at various parts of the world (War, posing as an arms dealer, causes fighting to break out wherever she goes, while Famine causes not only crop failures, but also can cause people to eat food of no nutritional value). But as they come together, they leave fear and destruction in their wake.

As I said, this is my favorite of the three books in this series of posts. It mixes (and outdoes) the humor of Anansi Boys with thematic brilliance that made American Gods great. In the opening of the book, the authors talk about some of the copies they've seen at signings; since many people read and reread the book numerous times, many of the copies have seen a lot of wear and tear (they gave an example of one copy being nothing more than a bunch of loose pages in a ziplock bag). On the other hand, they also brought up one person who built an oak chest with silver trim to house his copy. As I'm writing this, I am getting a huge urge to reread the book, despite the fact that I am currently in the middle of another book, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

I would really like to see Gaiman and Pratchett team up again (though it is unlikely since Gaiman now lives on our side of the pond), or I should probably start reading some of Pratchett's solo work. But this is a perfect introduction to both authors. It gives a small taste of their greatness.

Up next: Trying to decide...

Anansi Boys: Animal Instincts

Sorry about the title, I couldn't think of anything incredibly witty, and I thought it'd be kind of funny to reference the final joke of Forgetting Sarah Marshall, even though it has nothing to do with this book.

Of the three books, this one is the most fun, in the sense that it exists more to tell a story than to wax poetic on grand themes (however, I could be completely wrong). The story is still deep and uses the rules set in American Gods, but Anansi Boys is a story about sibling rivalry, stepping out of your father's shadow, and learning to stand up for yourself. The two main characters, "Fat" Charlie and Spider, are the sons of the spider god Anansi (who went by the name Mr. Nancy in American Gods). Anansi was a trickster god from African mythology; his stories were about his interactions with other animal spirits, like Monkey, Snake, Lion, Bird, and Tiger, who he often deceived for various reasons. Anansi could get anything he wanted through his deceptions, whether it be material (such as food) or intangible (such as credit). This didn't make him very popular with the other animal spirits, who have come to resent and/or hate the god.

The Mr. Nancy incarnation of the god settled in America and settled down. His son Charlie (who received the unwanted moniker "Fat" from his father) has been, for as long as he can remember, a timid and unmotivated man, a bit of a George McFly type character. He does not rock the boat, refuses to do anything that may embarrass himself even the least bit, and will take any and all crap given out to him by his boss and future mother-in-law (it's a wonder he has a girlfriend due to to his sheer inability to do anything daring, which includes asking people out).

The tiniest things cause Fat Charlie to become embarrassed, so it goes without saying that his father's over-the-top antics didn't sit will with Charlie. Fat Charlie moved to London, which is where he was when he received news of his father's death. Events at the funeral led to the discovery of a long-lost brother named Spider who seems like he is Anansi's true son; Spider is a bit of a trickster and has god-like powers of persuasion and deception.

The story follows the brothers as they learn to accept each other and themselves. Of course, this wouldn't be a Gaiman story without some mythology thrown in; a few of the animal spirits show up to help, hinder, or do both to the boys.

This sounded a lot more like a review than an observation of the story, but like I said, this book was more about story than theme, and it is a great story. In addition to the mythology, it has Gaiman's trademark wit, and that alone is worth reading the book for.

Up next: Incredible Omens...

American Gods: Modern Mythology

We'll begin with American Gods. It is the longest, most complex, and, in a way, most fulfilling book of the three (my favorite is Good Omens, but this one is more "pure Gaiman", since Omens was written alongside another author; however that is not a bad thing). The story focuses on a man named Shadow (I'm fairly certain that was his nickname, but his origins and real name are only vaguely hinted at), who is released from prison a few days early due to the death of his wife. Laura was his raison d'etre, and without her, Shadow is directionless. He soon meets an enigmatic man who uses the pseudonym Wednesday; Wednesday offers Shadow the job of personal bodyguard, and takes him on a journey that makes Shadow come to some strange realizations about the world he lives in.

Wednesday is a representation (or bastardization) of the Norse god Odin (the word Wednesday comes from Woden's Day, with Woden being one name for Odin, while Thursday originated from Thor's Day), and he explains to Shadow that a war is brewing between the "old gods" and the "new gods", though he is reluctant to describe who these "new gods" are.

The thematic aspects of the book examine what gods are, as well as the nature of the American people and their beliefs. Gods and their worshipers form a mutually dependent relationship; man needs the gods to do the things we think of when we think of religion (explain death, suffering, and the unknown), while the worship of man gives life to gods. Today, the gods of ancient civilizations, including Odin, Kali, and Anubis, are weak, since few people believe in them. Yet they live because we remember them. A god doesn't completely die until they are completely forgotten.

Throughout the course of the story, Shadow travels across America, where he encounters many of the old gods who are trying to live their lives in peace. They are in America because they were brought here in the hearts and minds of the many people who settled here throughout the years. They are the leftover ideas of long-forgotten traditions. Chicago, which is home to a large Polish community, houses Czernobog and the Zorya, Slavic deities, while Eostre, a pagan goddess, calls San Francisco home. They have been brought here and largely forgotten about, since America is very quick to embrace the new and deify it.

This brings us to the new gods: technology. Yes, I'm serious. When I first realized that telecommunications, television, and media outlets were the new GODS, I was a little surprised and slightly let down. I knew that Gaiman could make an interesting story out of that kind of situation, but there seemed to be something off about the idea. Technology isn't divine, it's completely man-made. Then I realized a few things. First, the book stands behind the idea that everything we consider divine originated in the human mind (a claim that I tend to agree with). But more importantly, I realized that Americans do in fact deify technology. I came to this conclusion when I returned home from the swimming pool, where I was reading the book in the sun, in a vain attempt to get some color that wasn't red. On the kitchen table was a miniature beach chair that my sister won at a carnival. The U.S. Cellular logo was emblazoned across the chair, and I had no idea what use a chair that size could serve. My dad reasoned that it was a chair for cell phones, a cute place to put them while they were not in one's pocket. And right there, I realized that we as a society certainly lift up technology beyond what it truly is, a means to make life easier for us (similar to the purpose of gods), if we make furniture for these inanimate objects.

These are the main themes of the book, but the way they are explained/experienced by the characters is what makes the book great. Different people have different ideas of how these ideas should affect the world. The book is an epic story, will certainly make you think about your relationship with the world around you.

Up next: Spider-men...

Three Novels By Neil Gaiman

I can't believe it's taken me this long to do posts on the works of Neil Gaiman, but here we are. For now, I will focus on three of his novels: American Gods, its spin-off Anansi Boys, and Good Omens, which he coauthored with Terry Pratchett. Neil Gaiman is my Joss Whedon of the printed word; they have each done works that are printed and filmed, but while Whedon is best at film, Gaiman excels in print (though both are still awesome in the opposite realm). Gaiman is incredible at mixing mythology with modernity, leading to incredible tales of science fiction and/or fantasy that draw on incredible ideas but take place in modern, "mundane" times (whoa, that reminds me that I need to talk about Bill Willingham's Fables at some point).

I will definitely do a series of posts on his magnum opus The Sandman, but that won't happen until I have finished it. I am collecting the series in the oversized Absolute editions, and two more still need to be released (one is coming up, and the final one will hopefully be out by the end of the year). But in the meantime, here are three reasons to become Gaiman fans if you aren't already.

Up next: A place for gods...

The Drowsy Chaperone: And All That Jazz Age

Whereas Reefer Madness used comedy to tell its chilling cautionary tale, The Drowsy Chaperone uses satire mostly for the sake of being funny. The frame story with the Man In The Chair is not exactly light-hearted (it's about how something you love can both make you feel better about being alone as well as isolate you), there is no message that links the present to the time being parodied. The 1920s is often portrayed as an endless party (as long as you were wealthy, reminds the Man In Chair), and the show does a fantastic job of pointing out some of the flaws of that view as well as the many cliches from and about the time.

The basic story is about a lonely man (known only as the Man In The Chair) whose only source of pleasure is an old recording of a play from 1928 entitled The Drowsy Chaperone. It appears that he has a kind of love/hate relationship with it; before it begins, he talks about how wonderful it is, but as the show progresses, he pauses the record to comment on the silliness of the scene/dialogue/musical number. The show-within-a-show is an over-the-top, cliche-ridden story of "mix-ups, mayhem, and a gay wedding"; the bride is a narcissistic showgirl who plans on giving up the stage to marry a man she hardly knows. A man who is even more full of himself than she is, and is the biggest klutz imaginable. Janet, the bride-to-be, is being hounded by her producer to call off the wedding, since he will have no show if she quits. And the maid of honor (the titular chaperone, who never receives a name other than, "chaperone") is an over-the-hill boozer (despite the fact that it was prohibition) who is only around for the alcohol. Robert (the groom) has a best man (George) who is convinced that he is responsible for making sure the wedding goes well (he tells Robert that the role of best man is more difficult than that of the groom), the woman who owns the luxurious mansion the wedding is being held at is delightfully senile, and two gangsters posing as pastry chefs are around to make sure that the producer can convince Janet to call off the wedding (their employer is the biggest investor in the show Janet is the star of). However, the gangsters are 1920s-style ideas of gangsters, meaning that they speak in bad puns and engage in overly stylized gestures and movements. As you can see, the cast of characters is not exactly realistic.

As the show goes on, the Man In Chair tries to explain why certain things happen, such as the Chaperone's song about alcoholism; the "actress" who played the Chaperone (he gives backstories on most of the fictional actors and actresses who played the parts) demanded rousing anthems in every show she ever performed, even if it wasn't appropriate. Another example involves Aldolpho, possibly the funniest character in the show. His character is nothing more than a collection of outrageous stereotypes about Europeans (he is some mixture of Spanish , Italian, and French), and the Man In Chair tries in vain to justify the character's existence.

For the audience, the simplistic plot (the Man In Chair remarks that the entire show is summed up in one sentence at the beginning of the play-within-the-play), outrageous characters, implausible twists, and awesomely bad ending (wherein nearly everyone in the show gets married) add up to an incredibly funny experience. I am realizing while writing this that there isn't much beyond the surface to analyze, but I think that is the point. The show satirizes meaningless, awesomely bad entertainment. If a modern audience were to go see the show-within-a-show that was being played seriously, they would most likely hate it (then again, there is a shit-ton of mindless crap today that people eat up), but the product we have show that not only can mindless entertainment be fun (as long as you know what you're in for), it can also be smart (I love oxymorons).

Part of the reason the play works so well is because of the way the story is told. The Man In Chair's apartment becomes the stage of the play, and he attempts to interact with the actors, even though, from their point of view, he doesn't exist. When he pauses the record, the actors freeze. When something in the "real world" disrupts the show (like a ringing telephone), it drowns out the show. And when the incorrect record is played when the second act begins, all kinds of hilarity ensues.

I didn't realize until I started writing this that this is more of a recommendation than an examination, but this is definitely something worth seeing. Fans of musical theater will love it for the same reasons non-fans will; it makes fun of (but also praises) the genre in very accurate and fun ways.

Up next: Neil Gaiman's first appearance in The Other Worlds...

Reefer Madness: Sharp Satire From A Blunt Subject

I really wish that I had taken the time to write this yesterday, since it was 420 all day long. Anyway, like Sweeney Todd, I have not seen this one on the stage (partly because it wasn't around for long), but I saw the Showtime movie adaptation, which starred much of the same cast. Reefer Madness is a parody of a 1936 PSA film (I guess PSAs were longer back then, since it clocked in at 60 minutes); the PSA was funded by a church group and was filled with bit actors, thus creating some pretty low production values. The story was told by a stern lecturer addressing a group of parents about the dangers of marijuana, the "demon weed". The lecturer warned that people under the influence immediately become giggly, and eventually, manically violent. To prove his story, he shows a movie about a "real" case involving three unsuspecting teenagers.

Bill Harper, his girlfriend Mary Lane, and Mary's sister Jimmy are high school students who are tricked into smoking pot by a smarmy dealer who preys on young children, despite the protests from his "girlfriend", who doesn't want to corrupt the youth. Jimmy becomes so stoned that he runs over a man with a car, while Bill hallucinates seeing Mary making out with another stoner (in reality she is resisting his advances), and begins fighting the other guy. When Jack, the dealer, tries to intervene, his gun accidentally goes off, killing Mary.

The musical follows the same basic plot, though Bill and Jimmy are combined to create Jimmy Harper, Mary's boyfriend. In this version, the lecturer (played menacingly by Alan Cumming in the Showtime version) will do anything to get his point across, even if it means discrediting his questioning audience. When one man questions the dubious facts of the case, the lecturer accuses the man of being a communist. Throughout the story, the lecturer shows up as characters of authority within the story, including a cop, a preacher, and even President Franklin Roosevelt.

The story of Jimmy and Mary (who is played by Kristen Bell of Veronica Mars, and is a surprisingly good singer) is played with a dark wit; Mary and Jimmy are delightfully innocent, since the 30s were characterized by reactionary policies meant to suppress any ideas seen as "anti-American". The two teens are so naive that they cannot imagine that any story could have an unhappy ending, even Romeo and Juliet, and when they are offered marijuana, neither one could ever imagine that someone would be dishonest with them or not have their best interests at heart.

The effects of the drug are also exaggerated; in addition to the claims made in the original PSA, such as being more addictive and dangerous than heroin, the film shows one person becoming a cannibal when the munchies become overpowering, while Mary changes from a sweet and naive girl into an S&M queen who attempts to rape the man who gave her the reefer.

The best part of the show is the ending; I will try not to give too much away, but I cannot hit the themes I want without mentioning details, so if you haven't seen it yet, you may want to skip ahead (then again, the details of the ending are much less important than the message). The ending is, of course, "happy", since there could be no other kind of ending in the 30s. The twist is that the happy ending is about how the characters resolve to brainwash people into believing what they feel to be "the truth". In fact, one of the final scenes is a book-burning, wherein the lecturer claims that, when there is trouble, exploit the fear, since the end will justify the means.

The show is extremely funny and over the top, but it is also a scary reflection of the way things seem to be going today. In the 30s, there was a mild recession occurring (heh) and a terrible war brewing across the ocean, and yet, to some, the more important issues involved threats to "American values". Since this isn't a political blog, I won't harp on this too much, but let's just say that, despite the current war, climate change, and declining infrastructure, the big issue in the last election had to do with gay marriage. What?

Up next: Mix-ups, mayhem, and a gay wedding (not that kind of gay)...

Modern Classics

The following two plays are parodies of certain parts of American history. The first, Reefer Madness, is a comic retelling of a 1936 public service announcement about the evils of marijuana use. I saw the original in one of my classes in college, and it is pretty funny to today's audiences (so many facts are incorrect, and the story is outrageous). The musical finds great way to point out not only the inaccuracies of the film, but also satirizes the 1930s as a time of rampant fear-mongering (sound a little familiar?) and supposed conformity, somewhat like the 1950s.

The other is The Drowsy Chaperone, billed in Chicago as "the funniest musical you've never seen", and that description isn't far off. Making fun of the 1920s and the Jazz Age, the show is the story of a pathetic man who doesn't like modern life and takes solace in a cliche-ridden play from the roaring 20's. The show expresses the idea that life was a party (for the rich) and everything turned out happily ever after for everyone involved.

Battlestar Galactica: Whys And Wherefores

Sorry for the long delay, but I had some trouble figuring out what I wanted to say in this post. Anyway, while Galactica has its share of (incredible) space battles, it is definitely not an action show. Most of the series is about the characters trying to make decisions about their future and how to survive for another day. It sounds sort of boring and frivolous, but the topics are relevant to the real world, and cause us to think about how these issues affect us.

Religion is an important example; one of the central conflicts between the humans and the cylons is their differing views of religion. The humans are (mostly) polytheists who believe in the Greek pantheon (of course, for the characters, they aren't the Greek pantheon, and this may be a clue about the Earth they will eventually find), while the cylons are (mostly) monotheists who believe in the Christian God. The cylons believe that they are justified in destroying humanity since God desires peace, and the humans are seen as war-mongering pagans. And the occupation occurred as a way to spread God's message to the humans once the cylons determined that they were wrong in their old tactic of eliminating the humans.

Free will is another important topic in the series. There have been many debates over whether the Colonial fleet should do what seems rational or if they should attempt to fulfill obscure prophecies from ancient religious texts. The president, for example, believes that they are playing a role foretold in the prophecies, and lobbies to have Commander Adama order seemingly suicidal missions in order to aid in finding Earth. Adama, a skeptic, thinks that these are nothing more than religious hokum, and is reluctant to send his soldiers to do things that may be completely irrelevant.

On the cylon side, we learn that the humanoid cylons have inhibited free will in the metal centurions so that they don't begin questioning the orders of the humanoids. This comes off as ironic since the humanoids "evolved" from metallic cylons who rebelled against their human masters. Of course, now, it seems like that decision is coming back to bite the humanoid cylons in the ass, but I won't go in to it too much.

Politics and justice are also important aspects of the show. The focus of the show is on both the military and the civilian government, and many of the problems are about how to deal with the fallout from political and military decisions. I mentioned the abortion issue in a previous post, and many other things are dealt with. The twist is that many of the issues have to be dealt with in non-conventional ways since the fleet is not a society in the strictest sense. When a strike starts developing on a fuel refinery ship, the president responds that although the conditions suck, they need people who know how to operate the machines to remain on the ship to keep the fleet moving. And since these people will be in a position to pass on their knowledge to their children (who will have front row seats to the machine operations), for the time being, jobs will be inherited like a class system.

As for justice, events in Season 3 reinforce the idea that justice is a tricky subject. What is justice to some is mob rule to others. The final episodes of the third season are the culmination of an arc that dominated the entire second half of the season. The trial of the millennium occurred, and what was supposed to be a quick and dirty case turned into a discourse on justice.

So that's it for Battlestar Galactica. I may do updates as the series goes on, but I believe that these posts should encourage anyone who hasn't watched yet to jump in.

Up next: Two "classic" plays...

Battlestar Galactica: Why Cally Should Have Been A Cylon

I want to remind readers that this post is extremely spoiler-heavy. If you have not yet seen the show, I would advise against reading this until after you are caught up.

Ok, so I have been saying this since early Season 2, and one of my friends has been calling me crazy for this opinion (he has reasons that lie within the show as well as with his feelings for the actress who plays Cally). But I believe revealing Cally to be a cylon would have made more sense and would have had a much bigger emotional impact on Chief Tyrol than being revealed as a cylon himself, which is what really happened.

To start with, let's look at Cally's story arc. She began the show in the miniseries as little more than a named extra with a few lines. She was one of the deckhands on Galactica, serving under Chief Petty Officer Galen Tyrol, and like many other characters on Galactica, including Racetrack, Seelix, and Helo, was slowly built up and received more and more lines. Over the course of the first season, it became apparent that she had a bit of a crush on Tyrol. Unfortunately for her, Tyrol was dating Sharon "Boomer" Valerii, a raptor pilot and sleeper agent cylon (Boomer was programmed to believe she was human). My suspicion that she was a cylon arose after Boomer was activated and shot Commander Adama; Boomer was immediately arrested and interrogated, and once Tyrol returned to Galactica (he, Cally, and a few others were stranded on the surface of Kobol at the time), he was imprisoned as well, under suspicion of either being a cylon as well, or aiding and abetting one. Boomer gave up some information, but Colonial brass believed that they could probably get some more, especially since they could use Tyrol as a bargaining chip (they already threatened to kill him if she didn't cooperate). However, as they were leading her away to more permanent lodgings, Cally forced her way to the front of the mob of people yelling obscenities at her and shot her. My first thought was not, "Cally is killing her because she is angry that Boomer betrayed the Chief". It was, "Cally is killing her because Cally is a cylon and wants to make sure that Boomer doesn't reveal anything else". In my opinion, Cally played the Jack Ruby to Boomer's Oswald (fortunately, Kennedy survives this version of the story). I am not a conspiracy theorist in real life, but in the world of fiction, especially when I trust that the writers have the long-term story planned out, I am always looking for subtle hints or situations that can be read multiple ways.

It was after this that I began to think that Cally's increasing role may be due to more than just good fan reaction. By Season 3, the sweet Cally that we had met in the miniseries was nearly gone, and was being replaced by an angrier, subversive Cally. In "Dirty Hands", she goaded Tyrol, now her husband, into getting the fuel processing ship to strike, which made the fleet sitting ducks. With her swiftness to defend Tyrol's honor in Season 2 through violence against other deckhands, along with her mounting subversive nature, I had all the evidence I needed to declare her a cylon.

And to make her a cylon would have created a lot of emotional whiplash for the Chief, which would translate into great drama for the audience. I believe that I am safe in saying that Tyrol has become a fairly popular character. In the first season, he was one side of one of television's greatest love triangles ever conceived. He was in a relationship with Boomer on Galactica, while on Caprica, Helo revealed to another copy of the Sharon model that he loved her too, and was jealous of Tyrol (we almost can't call it a love triangle now, since Helo's Sharon, now given the call-sign Athena, has become a much different character than Tyrol's Boomer). The difference between these two characters was their reactions to learning the truth about the women they claimed to love. Both were shocked and disgusted upon first hearing it, but then things changed. Tyrol could never be with a cylon. It was unnatural, and the cylons are the enemy. But Helo realized that he still loved Athena, no matter what she was. This revelation haunted the Chief throughout the rest of Season 2; as much as he tried to deny his love for Boomer, he still came to Athena's aid (along with Helo) when a cylon "interrogator" was about to rape her. He also suffered intense nightmares that were the product of his fears of being a cylon himself. So when Tyrol learns that the woman he loves now, the woman he is married to, is a cylon, imagine what kind of effect that would have on his psyche.

But as we learn, the Chief turns out to be a cylon, along with Col. Tigh, Sam Anders, and Tory Foster. Of the four of these, the only one I was completely pleased with was Tory. With the other three, I wasn't so much angered as I was perplexed, especially with Tigh (how long have the cylons been able to appear human?!?), but the only person that I would change would be Tyrol. There was so much potential for incredible drama if they had made Cally a cylon, along with compelling evidence. Oh well.

Up next: Religion and philosophy in the Twelve Colonies...

Battlestar Galactica: The Story Is Real

So why is this particular story so important? Why is this retelling relevant? Battlestar Galactica is one of the smartest written shows on television, with stories that draw on current issues in society, and are told in such a way where they don't ask us to take a side on the issue. They only ask us to think about the issue.

The miniseries pilot was very much a reflection on life after September 11th. It played upon the realization that we can not only be hurt by our enemies, but we can be attacked without warning (although, the series will go on to suggest that there may have been warnings after all, a sentiment reflected in reality about the 9/11 attacks). More importantly, the fear of being unable to discern who are enemies are is a major theme of the series. Gone are the days when we can look at someone's military uniform to figure out whether they are on your side. Today, anyone could be a threat. Sadly, since the people responsible for the 9/11 attacks were Middle Eastern Muslims, these groups of people have born the brunt of our fears. It serves as a way for us to try and find a new way to identify our enemies. But skin color and religion are not effective indicators; aside from the obvious fact that not every Muslim or Middle Easterner is a terrorist, there are people of every race, creed, and religion who can be classified as terrorists or enemies of the state.

The cylon threat is a reflection of our fears about who "the enemy" is. The cylons can perfectly imitate humans. Cylons can eat, sleep, have sex (or frak, if you will), even interpret and exhibit complex emotions, even love (this is a topic for a later post, but in some respects, the cylons almost succeeded too well in making themselves appear human). Some cylons have been programmed to believe that they are human; if they don't know that they are cylons, they are not in danger of giving up their secret. With such effective sleeper agents in place, it is impossible not to be fearful of one's neighbors and anyone you haven't previously met. Although, depending on how long the cylons have had the ability to appear human, even old acquaintances may be suspect. Even worse than fear, though, is the strained loyalty some people feel when they begin to suspect their loved ones of being cylons.

This fear is one of the core themes of the series, but other real-world issues are present. One of my favorite examples had to do with abortion. A young Gemenese girl sought asylum aboard Galactica, since the colony of Gemenon is known for strict interpretations of religious texts, and believe that abortion is a sin. The president is a staunch pro-choice activist, but has to deal with the Gemenese representatives who threaten not to back her in the upcoming election. The interesting thing about the resolution is why abortion becomes a crime. The writers remind the viewers, who are most likely hoping that the president chooses their point of view for their reasons, that the situation has fundamentally changed. There are less than 50,000 humans left, and the number of survivors tends to decrease much quicker than it increases. The president goes against her own beliefs in order to preserve humanity.

Perhaps the most important real-world parallel story outside of the ones introduced in the miniseries has to do with the US occupation of Iraq. I will try not to give away too many plot details, but at one point in the series, a situation comes about where the cylons and humans are forced to live together with one group taking over the civilization of the other. Here's the kicker: the humans, who are the heroes of the story, represent the Iraqis, while the cylons are the Americans. Even better is that the writers don't show one side as right and the other as wrong. Instead, both sides are depicted as doing deplorable things. The humans use suicide bombers and exploit the deaths of their own kind in the name of self-preservation. The cylons torture resistance fighters, and they recruit humans to do their dirty work, claiming that the recruits will be doing a good thing by taking the cylon centurions off the streets and helping th give power back to the humans. Also, each side has noble intentions behind their monstrosity. The cylons tried to create a harmonious society in which human and cylon could live side by side. The humans truly are working in the interest of self-preservation. But both sides believe that their ends are noble enough to justify some horrific means.

The occupation only breeds more fear and hatred, even after it ends. Many of the humans who were subjected to the horrors of the occupation came away scarred, and went on to kill the HUMANS that had collaborated. Never mind that there are now about 40,000 people left. These people put their own need for revenge and closure ahead of the need to keep the human race alive. I guess it could be argued that they did not want to live in a society with people who had oppressed them, but what happens when the families of the people they killed come to take THEIR revenge?

Rights issues are also explored in the show. Do the cylons have rights? They are not human, after all. But they can feel pain. And they can feel love, and even be loved. So when the humans kill a cylon, are they justified in doing so? As for killing a cylon who may care for someone else, or has someone who cares for them, some weight is taken off this decision, since, when the cylons are "killed", their consciousness and memories are downloaded into new bodies. But they still feel the pain. When the fleet's admiral and the president found a way to exterminate the cylons for good, are the humans justified in doing so? The cylons nearly exterminated the humans first, and present a legitimate threat. But if the humans commit genocide, even as a means of revenge or self-preservation, doesn't that make them as villainous as the cylons?

What about human rights issues for other humans? I've already mentioned the fallout of the occupation, but when a human who is believed to have sold out the humans to the cylons for the initial attacks, he becomes the most hated man in the fleet, and even though every citizen is entitled to a fair trial, there are talks between the President and the Admiral discussing whether or not he deserves one.

Up next: An essay about my opinions on the revelation of one of the cylon models (note: this will be extremely spoiler-heavy, and not recommended for people who have not yet seen the show)...