Left to right: Sasha, Ginny, Melanie, Boo
“Bunheads” 2/25/2013: Secrets Not for Everyone
Oscars Blow-by-Blow 2013
As my seventh annual foray into this personal fun ritual, presented below anyway is the timeline of events as I witnessed them during tonight’s ABC telecast of the 85th Academy Awards. All quotes are approximate as best as possible without benefit of rewatching, cribbing from national news outlets, or much proofreading. Our household does not own a DVR; all recollections are a combination of short-term memory and notes hastily handwritten on a legal pad, not a copy/paste reassembly of a distracted live-tweet flood. When I’m seated in front of a TV, I’d much rather watch than type.
8:30 — Our host Seth MacFarlane takes the stage with minimal intro and his first joke: “The quest to make Tommy Lee Jones laugh begins.” Naturally he jokes that he was only offered the gig after the producers were turned down by everyone else “from Whoopi on down to Ron Jeremy.” MacFarlane seems at ease and on his game most of the night, albeit with occasional edginess, such as a Rihanna/Chris Brown joke that seems more dated than offensive.
My 2013 Oscar Picks, 100% Accurate on Some Alternate Earth
I already explained in a previous entry about my predilection for the greatest spectacle in movie awarding. The last four entries were my version of a very special Oscar-themed week (located here, here, here, and here). All that remains before the big ceremony, then, is the burning question: my personal picks for the 85th Academy Awards.
If I were a card-carrying member of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, the following list would represent my hypothetical ballot selections. These are not my predictions as to who will win, which is a slightly different but even more useless list. To be honest, my Oscar guessing rate is abysmal. Of all the fans worldwide who go to the trouble of watching all Best Picture nominees, I’m the last one you want to ask for hot gambling tips. I’m not plugged in to the Hollywood zeitgeist, the trendiest groupthink sects, or nearly as many movie news sites as I ought to be. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve jinxed a lot of nominees in previous years and owe a round of apologies to numerous filmmakers who lost their races specifically because I picked them. (Sorry about that, The Social Network. My fault.)
A Few Best Picture Nominees That Didn’t Deserve Better
As mentioned previously, I’ve seen every Academy Award winner for Best Picture from Wings to The Artist, retaining varying degrees of recollection. I’ve also seen every Best Picture nominee from 1997 to the present, and have embarked on a slow, low-priority, extra-long-term quest to see how far backwards in time I can extend that date. Right now I’m stalled on 1996 because the DVD version of Secrets & Lies is out of print, secondhand copies are priced much higher than I’d prefer, and I’ve never caught it airing on a cable network. Someday I’ll overcome that obstacle and continue down the line in reverse order.
I watched a lot of those winners and nominees on cruddy VHS copies, many recorded from Turner Classic Movies at EP speed for maximum storage conservation, and therefore suffered subpar A/V quality and the dreaded pan-‘n’-scan method that ruined countless widescreen films for the sake of home video as it existed back then. I wouldn’t mind revisiting some past winners and nominees in upgraded formats as time and funding allow. (Tonight, for example, I watched The Sound of Music on Blu-ray, my first time seeing the original widescreen presentation with the composition and gorgeous Alpine scenery intact. Massive difference.)
The following list is a sampling of Best Picture nominees that not only lost the Oscar, but also lost me when I did my best to stomach them, and won’t entice me to an encore presentation, not even as a thrifty Blu-ray with myriad extras.
The loser nominees are:
* Chocolat. The citizens of an all-Catholic town who’ve apparently never studied the Bible find themselves easily tempted away from their convictions during Lent when a dismissive heathen outsider opens a chocolate shop and mocks their fasting. I can see the groundwork laid here for a meaty Stephen King novel, if we modify Act Two so that the lady turns out to be an underworld minion whose Satanic powers manifest in the form of evil bonbons. Call it Needful Things 2: Day of the Truffles. Alas, no, the lady is typical and the self-righteous moral of the story is snacks are better than God. Though the town has other underlying problems that sugar somehow cures, my diagnosis would be that the town merely needed a more competent minister to guide and edify that particular flock.
* The Reader. My wife doesn’t share my quixotic quest and is consequently under no obligation to see films against her will. If I think a film has merit, I’ll regale her with a précis of the better parts, spoilers and all. Some films, I really don’t want to summarize. No loyal husband wants to confront the innocent question of “How was the movie?” with an answer like “It was basically Kate Winslet having lots of wild sex with a teenager.” In the theater I tried to stay focused on her character’s role as a gruff German guard who may or may not have been a Nazi war criminal. I lost that focus completely when her deep, dark secret — which I predicted several minutes in advance — reminded me of the “Oscar Clip” scene from Wayne’s World. After my little flashback, I couldn’t stop laughing all through her deadly serious court trial. So that ended poorly.
A Few Best Picture Nominees That Deserved Better
Everyone who watches the Academy Awards has their disagreements with the Academy. Not one living person would look at the complete list of Best Picture nominees and argue that the right movie has won every single year since Wings. We all have our own ideas about what makes one movie better than other movies. The idea of separate, distinct works of art being forced to compete against each other in an expensive dog-and-pony show may seem crass, especially considering the plethora of talents, genres, budgets, studio systems, sweetheart agent deals, and marketing departments that are fundamentally incomparable in any reasonable aesthetic discussion. Big-budget award-grubbing machines and high-minded shoestring-budget indie flicks shouldn’t be fighting each other; they should be working side-by-side, providing viewers with a vast assortment of reasons for film lovers to remain invested in the medium, and maybe even teaming up for the occasional crossover.
Just the same, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences insists on the annual flickfights. Sometimes Academy voters pick the right winner. Sometimes they struggle with hard choices. Sometimes they get it wrong. Sometimes they do it on purpose to upset the rest of the world, or at least me specifically.
The following Best Picture nominees from decades past represent a few differences of opinion between my biases and the questionable preferences of the Hollywood voting majority. While I have the advantage of limited, selfish hindsight peering back from outside their contemporary context, they have the advantage of being famous artists and filmmakers whose personal valets make more in a month than I do in a year. Thus do they have the privilege of deciding whose names are engraved on the statues and which ones have to settle for “I coulda been a contendah” jokes.
Some of those nominees are:
* The Thin Man (1934). Not that I have anything against the fun romance of It Happened One Night, but Nick and Nora Charles are five times the fun, not to mention one of the most solid husband/wife couples in anything ever, fellow detectives or otherwise. Living in a bygone era where “politically incorrect” wasn’t a thing yet, their methodology was questionable (gather all the suspects and hope someone tips their hand? Foolish but genius); Nick’s alcohol dependence was played for a few laughs but not taken entirely for granted (he grudgingly quit drinking in later films); and their relationship was 100% unflappably rock-solid (in one hectic scene, Nick saves Nora from a bullet by punching her in the face, somehow without destroying their marriage — good luck pulling off that trick outside a tasteless R-rated comedy today). “They don’t make ’em like they used to” doesn’t begin to describe the series’ legacy. The happy couple regrettably didn’t stand a chance against a shirtless Clark Gable.
A Few of My Least Favorite Best Picture Winners
After yesterday’s mandatory entry, it’s still the week before the Academy Awards ceremony, when Oscar fans have the best excuse to wax eloquent about the greatest awards show of all time. Also, they can indulge in as much hyperbole as they want without fear of retribution. ‘Tis the season.
As I mentioned yesterday, I saw all the Best Picture winners over the course of a several-year journey back in the 1990s. Some were invaluable enterprises that I’m glad I went out of my way to catch. Some…not so much. It’s been my geek experience that when you dedicate yourself to absolute completism on a given subject without fail or compromise, you find yourself having to tolerate a lot of damaged goods that you’ll regret later, in exchange for those bragging rights.
My list of the most regrettable Best Picture winners to date is thankfully shorter than my Best Best Pictures list. I’ve seen several Best Picture nominees that were far more toxic than most of these, but that doesn’t improve their own letter grades in my amateur-appreciator book.
Presented in no conscious order:
* The English Patient. Seinfeld mocked this beloved non-linear adaptation years before I saw it. I allowed it an impartial chance to stand or fall on its own merits nonetheless. I even watched it twice in order to grasp the complexities of the interwoven timelines. Despite my efforts, it never had a chance. Fun trivia: stories in which I’m expected to sympathize with adulterers will find me next to impossible to win over. It’s a sore spot inflicted by my own personal history, a flagrant bias I have no interest in setting aside. Out of Africa failed me for this same reason, though at least Meryl Streep didn’t compound her sins by abetting the Nazis in the name of lust.
A Few of My Favorite Best Picture Winners
It’s that time of year again, the week before the Academy Awards ceremony, when anyone who pontificates online about movies to any degree is compelled to reflect on Oscar winners of years past and mine their history for writing material in lieu of relevant news updates and Oscar pool handicapping. I suppose I should add my two cents quickly, lest I risk being last in line, though I’m sure all mine are taken by other Oscar fans now, if not necessarily in matching quantity. Years ago I completed a lengthy quest to see every Best Picture winner from Wings to the present, just to see what would happen. Some I’ve long since forgotten, some were travesties I wish I could unsee, but many were worthwhile experiences.
As with all such lists, the following is purely subjective, not constrained by your mortal ideas about standards of fairness or codified film-school guidelines, and rife with random acts of unjustified, whimsical favoritism. This is my Best Best Pictures Ever list. There are many others like it, but this one is mine.
Because ranking them against each other would require extensive arguments against myself that I couldn’t possibly win, these are presented in no intentional order:
* My Fair Lady. The first musical I ever enjoyed in my life that wasn’t a cartoon or a puppet show. The idea of better living through diction and poise lessons was fascinating in my youth. Also, the songs are catchy despite their lack of American Idol vocal sheen, and Eliza’s Cockney scream at the horse race cracks me up every time.
“Bunheads” 2/11/2013: Heavy Hangs the Head That Wears the CAP Cap
Tonight’s new Bunheads episode, “It’s Not a Mint”, begins with Sasha experiencing every new renter’s worst nightmare: a possible burglary. Maybe. She arrives home with groceries in arms and finds her front door standing wide open. She smartly opts not to go inside, clumsily drops her groceries, and calls for help. The other Bunheads’ phones all go to voice mail. Her neighbor Mrs. Weidemeyer won’t answer the door. Sasha even turns to Siri to dial 911 for her because dialing three whole digits is too much work. Unfortunately her iPhone comes preloaded with the standard sitcom version of Siri that’s equipped with the hearing of a senile grandmother. (To be fair, it’s for the best that every fictional version of Siri malfunctions. If it worked according to specs, I’d roll my eyes and accuse the show of product placement. Siri just can’t win.)
Rescue arrives in the form of her dashing suitor, Roman. Sasha directs to him of numerous weapons of choice to arm himself against intruders — baseball bat under the couch, tennis racket by the fireplace, My Pretty Pony umbrella in the closet, backup baseball bat in the bedroom closet, or crowbar under the bed. Sasha has surely taken all those true-crime stories to heart and prepared her defenses well. One flaw in her plan: there’s no intruder — she apparently failed to shut the front door on her way out. Then more rescuers arrive — Boo and her parents. Boo’s dad even brought his own sledgehammer. They charge about the place, triple-checking and securing and shouting confirmation at each other from opposite rooms. Everyone agrees on two things: there’s no intruder, and there’s a spider in the bathroom that may be powerful enough to kill them all, weapons or not.
Otherwise, tonight was a special “bottle episode” — another sitcom tradition in which the whole story takes place in a single setting, either as a creative experiment or as a budget-cutting measure. In this case, what wasn’t spent on sets and camera setups was instead spent on bringing in the supporting cast all at once. The premise: a forest fire has sent the entire town of Paradise into emergency mode. Every citizen except Michelle naturally knows the drill: west-siders and east-siders each have their own assigned evacuation centers. For east-siders, said center is the dance academy. The designated captain of the east-side center is Bash (Sean Gunn), the eccentric barista last seen sparring with Michelle at his coffee shop. Bash wears his role well and boldly wears his cap that says “CAP” to signify to ordinary folks that he’s the captain. He’s very proud of his CAP cap. Someday when Bunheads merchandise becomes all the rage, I hope to see a hat sporting a photo of Bash in uniform, so I can buy my very own “CAP cap” cap.
Installing This Stupid Dryer Vent Cover Counts as a Victory
I spent the first thirty-five years of my life in rented dwellings. As a child, making holes in the wall was a major no-no. The adults were allowed to hang a few nails for photo display purposes, and for one calendar. Otherwise, I was informed countless times that the big bad rental management frowned upon holes. Wall holes were bad. The way I was told left me with the impression that if the maintenance men ever came inside to repair something and discovered holes in the wall, we’d all be in big trouble.
For the longest time I couldn’t nail my own photos or other display items to the wall, nor was I permitted even a tiny exception for thumbtacks or pushpins. The posters in my bedroom were affixed with Scotch tape that turned dusty and yellow over time, and frequently had to be augmented with even more tape as adhesion faded. After around fourth grade or so, when it was clear we weren’t moving anytime soon and the management really didn’t care that much, I was finally allowed to graduate to tacks and pins. The anti-hole conditioning never fully faded, though.
When my wife and I became first-time homeowners in 2007, I discovered that this lifelong admonition had become a mental block. She and my son had home improvement ideas a-plenty for the new place, now that we wouldn’t be beholden to the oppressive rental guidelines imposed by The MAN. Every time I heard a suggestion that required wall holes for anything except photo frames, I balked. Even though this is our house and our property, I still cringed inside at the very thought. After careful negotiations (i.e., when I tired of their justified badgering), I relented slightly and allowed my son to hang shelves in his room. He did a decent job with them, but every time I entered, I had to avert my gaze and avoid thinking about them.
In a later year, it was decided that the blinds left by the previous owners ought to be replaced with curtains. That, to my regret, would require a curtain rod. That, to my escalating dread, would require drilling holes in the wall for mounting the brackets to hold the rod. My research showed that extra-long nails were not an acceptable substitute. The courage it required for me to buy a drill, learn how to use it, drill the necessary holes (with manufacturer instructions in hand — I was leaving nothing to chance), and mount those curtains is quite the epic tale in my head. Even if it seems like nothing to you, the Viewers at Home, it was a considerable win against that blasted childhood mental block.
That pitiable block recently became an issue again. Today I think I conquered it at last. I think.
“Amour”: a Gerascophobe’s Worst Nightmare
If you fear the aging process and aren’t remotely excited in seeing your possible future as a senior citizen writ large without any regard for your afterlife possibilities, chances are Michael Haneke’s new film Amour will be your scariest encounter of the year.
Except for the silent opening scene of one happy date night, the film is contained entirely within the spacious apartment where elderly couple Georges and Anne (Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva) are finishing out their decades of wedded bliss. The first telltale sign that something is wrong occurs when one normal morning is interrupted by one abnormal moment of stupor. After we learn from a reluctant Anne about her distrust of doctors, her condition quickly progresses to a full-blown stroke that leaves her paralyzed on one side and requires Georges to transition from the role of equal partner to majority decision-maker and full-time caretaker. Subsequent days bring new forms of debilitation and add new responsibilities to Georges’ list. How can he continue to manage? Can he continue? The film asks: should he continue?
Today is Brought to You by the Number 300
If my entire comic book collection were in mint condition, one of the more valuable modern-age collectibles would be Amazing Spider-Man #300. Not only was it part of the run that cemented Todd McFarlane as a bankable superstar, it also introduced Venom, who in my teenage eyes became one of Spidey’s scariest adversaries, up until Marvel later saturated the market with tons of Venom miniseries and crossovers. Though he wore out his welcome, I still hold a few fond memories of that era in the field.
300 isn’t the most popular number around — not nearly as well regarded as 2, 7, 42, 500, or one billion. 300 is modest in comparison, but serves a purpose and makes an appearance wherever it’s needed.
The 300th episode of The Simpsons revealed Bart’s secret life as a child star, and guest-starred Tony Hawk and Blink-182. That’s 300 in production order, anyway — in airdate order, it was #302.
The 300th episode of Law & Order: SVU aired October 24th, 2012. Two days later, the 300th episode of DeGrassi aired on TeenNick. If only each production had known the other shared their milestone, they could’ve orchestrated the greatest TV crossover of all time, though it might’ve guaranteed the violent death of a beloved DeGrassi character.
How Hard Can it Be to Quit a Movie Series?
To Die Hard or not to Die Hard: that is the question now before me.
Anyone who knows me well is aware that — even at my advanced, increasingly prudish age — the original Die Hard remains my unqualified favorite movie of all time. None of them understand why because I’ve never outlined the many reasons. Suffice it to say it’s my incontrovertible opinion. I’ve seen all four movies even though they varied in worth. For the record, the correct ranking is 1, 2, 4, 3. I can understand arguments for and against Renny Harlin’s Die Harder, but I question the wisdom of anyone who ranks Die Hard with a Vengeance anywhere but dead last. For some reason I assumed that Len Wiseman’s ludicrous but giddy Live Free or Die Hard would be the series endcap, and John McClane could ride off into the sunset with Gary Cooper. When the fifth one was announced, I had no idea what to think.
As I’m contemplating the post-Oscar movie release schedule, A Good Day to Die Hard is the only non-Oscar film in theaters that’s not an automatic “no”. That doesn’t mean it’s an enthusiastic “yes”, though. As of this moment its Tomatometer rating rests at a paltry 13%. Its director’s oeuvre has never once tempted me into a theater. The main villain, which can make or break a Die Hard flick, is buried in the trailers as if the filmmakers are ashamed of him. Bruce Willis is now 57, younger than Schwarzenegger and Stallone but not exactly in his prime. I’m not optimistic, but I’m torn. Is now the right time to walk away from John McClane?
My Valentine’s Day is What I Make of It.
When you’re sitting at a ballpark or other sports stadium, the crowd is doing the Wave, and you see the crest heading straight for your section, do you rise and raise your arms in rhythm with your neighbors? Or do you scowl, remain in your seat, and lecture your friends about how the Wave is conformist tomfoolery?
When your coworkers decide they’re not in the mood for cafeteria food or the tiny Weight Watchers meals they brought in their lunch bags and decide to order pizza or Chinese takeout together, do you go with the flow and chip in a few bucks for a little something different for yourself? Or do you denounce their impulsive extravagance and consign yourself to the turkey sandwich you brought because it was slapped together with only the purest of motives?
When you need to buy drinks at the grocery, do you base your decision on advertising? Do you buy drinks regardless of their advertising? Or do you specifically boycott any drinks that have ever been advertised in any way because advertising is shallow and irritating and unholy, and instead limit yourself to buying only products that have never been advertised in any medium?
If you’re at the theater watching a movie that the other patrons seem to be enjoying a lot more than you are, do you leave them to their difference of opinion and count down the minutes till the travesty is over? Or do you castigate them for their life choices and demonstrate the superiority of your disdain by chasing them around the theater with a stun-gun?
“Silver Linings Playbook”: Your Best Bet for an Oscar/Valentine Crossover
I saw Silver Linings Playbook over a week ago and have been procrastinating saying anything about it because it’s tough to express my opinion without ruining the ending. I suppose the ads aren’t that coy about the gist of the film, but part of my enjoyment was derived from that rare feeling of having no idea what would happen next. Under the guidance of director David O. Russell (previously appreciated for The Fighter and Three Kings), I wasn’t sure if Playbook would be predictably atypical or deceptively Hollywood about the strange relationship between its May/December starring couple. Would it end in for-your-Oscar-consideration breakup and tears? Would it opt for the mushy happily-ever-after ending, complete with gratuitous dance party at the end? Would the payoff be just-good-friendship, like Lost in Translation? Would they both die horribly of movie cancer? My second-guessing was useless against it.
“Bunheads” 2/11/2013: No One Expects the TAFT-POKI-RIP Inquisition
On tonight’s new episode of Bunheads, “There’s Nothing Worse Than a Pantsuit” (that’s the episode title, not the main clause of this sentence), our heroine Michelle is forced to cope with two (2) formidable challenges. First up, as spoiled in the episode title: pantsuits! With Fanny MIA from an episode once again, Michelle is left alone to work with Milly on the next step of the Millicent Stone Performing Arts Center process: zoning approval from the town committee. Michelle nearly tries to go it alone, but Milly scolds her for not keeping her in the loop on any important issues. (“Anything that can’t be answered by reading a Judy Blume novel? CALL ME.”) Such formal requirements, in Milly’s estimation, cannot be completed while wearing anything except a pantsuit. Leave it to Truly and the magic of Sparkles to provide Michelle with options, all equally businesslike and hard to tolerate, even with meatball-sized beads and whatever “color blocking” is. Later in the episode she comes to terms with this temporary fashion detour and recognizes the inherent advantages — fewer wardrobe malfunctions; more pockets than dancewear has; and, on a metaphysical level, the pantsuit is “binding, so it keeps all your powers in.”
Michelle needs all the pantsuit power she can summon, for this very important meeting (held on an accelerated schedule per Milly’s wishes for control-freak purposes) is no less than a rematch with Sam (Rose Abdoo), Sal (Homicide‘s Jon Polito), and the other members of The Association For The Preservation Of Keeping It Real In Paradise (a.k.a. TAFT-POKI-RIP), last seen in episode nine, “No One Takes Khaleesi’s Dragons“. Already indignant because Milly lied about providing snacks, TAFT-POKI-RIP finds one major flaw with the amphitheater construction: all the innocent squirrels that will be left homeless and starving as a result of the slight deforestation that will be key to the plans. Somewhere out there in Paradise, someone asked plaintively, “Won’t someone think of the squirrels?” And like a bunch of screwy busybodies, TAFT-POKI-RIP answered the call, displaying all the acumen of the Vermont townspeople from Newhart. Fortunately for sensitive eyes, this environmental debacle is settled entirely offscreen by Milly in full-on rage mode. Somehow the day is saved and the MSPAC proceeds on schedule.
2013 Oscar-Nominated Live-Action Shorts: From Best to Not-Best
Each year since 2009 my wife and I have made a day-long date of visiting Keystone Art Cinema, the only dedicated art-film theater in Indianapolis, to view the big-screen release of the Academy Award nominees for Best Live-Action Short Film and Best Animated Short Film. Results vary each time and aren’t always for all audiences, but we appreciate this opportunity to sample such works and see what the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences deemed worthy of celebrating, whether we agree with their collective opinions or not. A few of the past marathons have varied wildly in quality, but this year’s proved a superb bunch. To be honest, this is the first time in memory that I’ve preferred the live-action contenders to their animated colleagues.
Presented below are my rankings of this year’s five Live-Action Short Film nominees, from the most effective to the slightly flawed. None of these appear to be streaming online for free as the animated nominees are, but it’s my understanding they’re available on iTunes or on Video On Demand if your carrier offers the channel called Shorts HD (ours doesn’t). Links are provided to the most official-looking sites I could locate. Enjoy where possible!
Curfew: Writer/director/editor/star Shawn Christensen plays a deadbeat at the end of his rope, granted a fateful reprieve in the form of a phone call from his estranged sister, begging him for one night of babysitting the niece he hasn’t seen since infancy. The premise easily could’ve been expanded into a ninety-minute dumb-adult/smart-kid mismatch comedy starring Jason Bateman and a doomed child star. The tentative reunion, expectant life lessons, and mandatory cutesy musical number belie the sharp turns taken in the later scenes, when we learn more about the rift between siblings, and about how Mom spent her evening out. A charming, disturbing, sometimes intense drama about family, forgiveness, and our sad propensity for overlooking our importance to others who love and need us.
2013 Oscar-Nominated Animated Shorts: From Best to Not-Best
Each year since 2009 my wife and I have made a day-long date of visiting Keystone Art Cinema, the only dedicated art-film theater in Indianapolis, to view the big-screen release of the Academy Award nominees for Best Live-Action Short Film and Best Animated Short Film. Results vary each time and aren’t always for all audiences, but we appreciate this opportunity to sample such works and see what the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences deemed worthy of celebrating, whether we agree with their collective opinions or not.
Presented below are my rankings of this year’s five Animated Short Film nominees, from the greatest to the most head-scratching. Unlike last year, all five nominated animated shorts can be viewed online for free…as of today, at least. Links are provided for each, but may be subject to change without notice. Enjoy!
Paperman: You should’ve already seen this in front of Wreck-It Ralph. If you didn’t, it was unique in its use of Disney’s new CG/2-D hybrid system called Meander. The blend worked wondrously, and the meet-cute romance was sweet-hearted.
“Anne of Green Gables” Reboot Emphasizes Unimportance of Accurate Book Covers
Literacy pundits wept this week over a controversial re-release of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s classic Anne of Green Gables, which is now in the public domain and can be reprinted and reformatted by anyone who thinks they can earn a dime from it, regardless of whether or not they’ve actually read it themselves. Rather than publish it with a cover that reflects one iota of the content, dark forces working through CreateSpace instead revamped little Anne’s image by disposing of everything about her except her gender. Presumably a skewed focus group or an ad executive with a one-track mind advised that today’s younger readers are 75% more likely to read a classic novel if the cover resembles a supermarket magazine.
Do the guilty parties have a point? Some publishers have found that quality content alone, regardless of pedigree, is often not enough to entice new readers, especially if the content is really old and uses archaic terms such as “gables”. Schoolteachers do their best to inform students of the perks and wonders of reading, but they only have so many months to force the kids to read as much as possible before they’re turned loose on the world and free to avoid books for the rest of their lives. If the writing itself isn’t enough of a draw, if the recommendations of elders send them in the opposite direction, how else are the classics supposed to attract new generations of audiences?
Clearly the answer is repackaging that catches the casual eye at any cost. Sure, photogenic Nü-Anne bears no resemblance to her textual counterpart and is somewhat of an affront to dedicated Anne fans, but you’ll note the Amazon listing as of this writing lists this new edition as sold out. Either someone ordered it pulled due to the media scrutiny, or the plan worked beyond anyone’s wildest expectations.
“Community” Returns, Makes NBC Thursdays Super Again, With or Without Ratings
Warning: those uncharacteristically dopey smiles are a LIE.
As of tonight, NBC is back in the business of catering specifically to me once again. For the next few months, my Thursdays have returned to form with all the right series back in the correct batting order as follows:
* Community: For dedicated fans like myself and my son, October 19th arrived at long last tonight with its fourth-season premiere, a full 111 days after NBC first promised it would be. The four-month drought was dispiriting, filled as it was with very little meta-humor, a complete lack of Troy and Abed in the Morning, and a heartbreaking parade of lost souls who keep telling me how much they prefer The Big Bang Theory, just to make me cry in my sleep.
The Star Wars Spinoffs You’ll Never See
Not coming soon: “Star Wars Origins: Ice Cream Maker Guy”
This week Disney confirmed they have plans afoot to initiate aesthetic strip-mining and merchandise-driven IP expansion for their latest acquisition, the world-renowned Star Wars universe. We already knew director J.J. Abrams had signed on to captain the ostensible Star Wars Episode VII for release in 2015, but Disney has no moral imperative to stop there. At the very least, we’ve been duly notified of two proposed film spinoffs in the works: one based on Boba Fett, because chicks dig guys who act tough and die quickly; and one based on young Han Solo, which will hopefully be more action-packed and less educational than The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles.
Expect many more theoretical projects to be announced in the days ahead as assorted Hollywood professionals shelve their own original ideas and instead spend all their waking hours competing for a turn at being a cog inside Disney’s newest money-making machine. Odds are the following proposed spinoffs will not be a part of any future PR announcements:
* Star Wars Origins: Ice Cream Maker Guy — If you blinked at the wrong moment during the Bespin sequence in The Empire Strikes Back, you missed the fleeting seconds of screen time that comprised the complete career of Willrow Hood, more affectionately known to sarcastic fans as Ice Cream Maker Guy. Last seen (and only seen) carrying a large white cylinder through the crumbling halls of Cloud City, Hood’s meaningless presence has taken on a life of its own in recent years, with enough apocryphal trivia accumulated to support a Wookieepedia entry several hundred words too long. Every single sentence of that entry will be tossed out in favor of an origin story written from scratch. The ideal actor for this role, in my flexible mind: Community‘s Danny Pudi. (It does not have to be Donald Glover. Don’t be racist.)
Midlife Crisis Crossover! 