Esprit de Banshee

Anyone who knows me well knows that my favorite television show is Twin Peaks. I give it that weight for a lot of reasons, not only the metaphysically eye-opening effect it had on my youthful mind, but because I believe it to be the most influential show of its generation, a portal that allowed the cinematic and the experimental to coexist in much of the great television that has followed.  I enjoyed that the town of Twin Peaks was the fulcrum of the show, and that the place itself as vital to the story being told as the characters and the central mystery. Twin Peaks was the central mystery.

Based on my love for Twin Peaks, I find myself predisposed to enjoy storytelling about a place. And when I heard about a show called Banshee which had nothing to do with a vengeful, screaming Irish spirit, I decided to give it a try.

Although Cinemax has Strike Back and Hunted, Banshee is clearly being set up as the network's signature drama series. It has more of a dramatic pedigree, with the involvement of executive producer Alan Ball and writer/producers Jonathan Tropper and David Schickler, and its high concept is clearly reaching a bit higher than "action show." And what a concept it is: an ex-con thief (Antony Starr) finishes his bit and tries to find his ex-partner and lover (Ivana Milicevic), the daughter of the crimelord who employed him (Ben Cross as Mr. Rabbit). He locates her, living under an assumed name and in a steady marriage, and in a plot twist that requires a fair amount of suspension of disbelief, he assumes the identity of the incoming sheriff of her new hometown of Banshee, PA. Too much indigenous corruption has led the town to hire an outsider to wrangle the local criminal element, and apparently Sheriff Lucas Hood refused to do a Skype interview, because no one knows what he looks like. And that's just the first episode! To quote City Correspondent Stefon, this show has everything: violence, sex, heists, MMA, an ex-boxer named "Sugar," bikers, school shootings, barn raves, Native American casinos, crossdressing Asian hackers, bowtie-wearing henchmen, horny Amish gangsters, horny Amish Lolitas, and raw albino bodybuilder schlong. Although I still feel the show is finding its creative voice, which is pretty common early in the life of a show, it is so damn audacious that I cannot look away.

Antony Starr as Lucas Hood

Banshee could not exist on network television and be anywhere near the same show. It seems every episode has a bone-shattering, vicious fight scene or two, there are frequent foot and car chase scenes shot with a compelling on-edge virtuosity, and the level of sexuality and nudity is well into the graphic range (this, after all, is a network commonly referred to as "Skinemax.") Not every story hung together as well as I would have liked, and the central plot engine, the fact that Rabbit is trying to track down Hood and his daughter and gain revenge, was often the least interesting thing going on for me. I was far more interested in Hood's barely attempting to blend into the town's structure while continuing his criminal pursuits in the background and screwing any willing female in the county, all while still usually doing something approaching the right thing with little tact or patience for bureaucracy.  The idea that the mantle of law and order may inevitably turn a bad man good, or at least good-ish, is a powerful idea to play with.

Ivana Milicevic as Carrie Hopewell

So, I like Lucas Hood just fine, but I am simply more interested in some of the other characters on this show. Ivana Milicevic as Carrie Hopewell may well be the show's true MVP. More than just a leading lady for Hood to pine over, the emotional and physical nakedness she displays is raw & sometimes difficult to look at for a woman so beautiful. She also suffers some of the most brutal violence on the show, which I might consider misogynistic were she not usually giving better than she gets. Even if a double is doing a good chunk of the work, I have worked with enough stunt performers to know Ivana probably walked away from episode 8, "We Shall Live Forever," with substantial bruising.The producers hired a gamer in Ivana Milicevic.

The Amish are so hot right now! Lili Simmons as Rebecca Bowman

If we're talking about potential misogyny or sexism, it would again be easy to chalk up the horny Amish Lolita (Lili Simmons as Rebecca Bowman) as some writer's perverse fantasy. And one of the local deputies (Trieste Kelly Dunn as Siobhan Kelly) might be regarded as sheer eye candy. But I love Rebecca and Siobhan, because, other than their physical beauty (this is a television show, c'mon!) they are such metaphorical opposites, I hope some excuse is found to get them into scenes together very soon. Rebecca is young and angel-faced, seemingly as innocent as the day is long. But, besides her sexual hunger, she has a darkness and a worldliness that causes tension with her traditional family. Rebecca is far older than she appears. She ends up in a place that will allow her darkness to spread, if she so chooses, and her arc is one I will be especially curious about in season 2. Siobhan, on the other hand, wears a uniform and a rank of responsibility in Banshee, but she is wounded at her core and can be aggressive and defensive in the way a child might. Despite her outward appearance, Siobhan is far younger than she appears. In Episode 5, "The Kindred," Siobhan's childhood home burns, and I believe that is entirely symbolic. Siobhan must stop identifying with whatever has damaged her and become the woman her station requires (she parallels Hood in this way, as well.) Will she succeed? Will she try and fail? I suspect the latter, at least at first, because this is a premium cable television show, but there's no character I'm rooting for more than Siobhan Kelly.

Trieste Kelly Dunn as Siobhan Kelly

On to my favorite male supporting character: not Hoon Lee's crossdressing Asian hacker, Job, nor Ulrich Thomsen's horny Amish gangster, Kai Proctor, not Frankie Faison's ex-boxer named "Sugar," but Matt Servitto's Deputy Brock Lotus. Servitto is a great character actor probably best known as F.B.I Agent Harris, who could never quite catch up to Tony Soprano, and who is currently killing it as Satan on Adult Swim's Your Pretty Face Is Going To Hell. In Banshee, Lucas Hood is hired as sheriff because Kai Proctor has his hooks in too many people. Brock Lotus, however, would have been next in line for the job. Though Brock has some distaste for Hood, overall he seems a very competent lawman and is not obviously corrupt. Why wasn't he chosen, then?  Something in his past? A heretofore unknown connection to Proctor? Machinations against him at higher levels of power? Or is he more self-serving than we have been led to believe? Regardless of the answers, I hope this thread is explored and Servitto given some complex beats to play in the future.

Matt Servitto, Frankie Faison, and Hoon Lee in Banshee

Anthony Ruivivar as Alex Longshadow

Another reason I happily anticipate the second season of Banshee is the expansion of Anthony Ruivivar's role as Alex Longshadow, the new head of the tribe which runs the nearby Native American casino. I was unfamiliar with Ruivivar until Banshee, where he didn't do much during the first season, but his role on a handful of Southland episodes this spring, in which he built a complex, interesting character in just a few episodes, has me excited for potentially more meaty material in season two. We also have Odette Annable as Alex's sister Nola Longshadow. We know little about her, other than she's gorgeous, she hates her father, and she can throw a knife rather accurately, but if Banshee's writers keep up their streak of interesting female characters, Nola will be one to watch.  There are other fine characters as well, and well-acted, but if I were to hit every character in this large ensemble, I'd be writing and editing for another month. Know you're not forgotten Rus Blackwell, Demetrius Grosse, Ryann Shane, Matthew Rauch, Daniel Ross Owens, Christos Vasilopoulos, and Gabriel Suttle.

Odette Annable as Nola Longshadow

I love that the show is named Banshee, not The Two Faces of Lucas Hood, or Hot Sheriff Goes A'Boning.  I doubt Antony Starr is going anywhere, but the title doesn't promise that. The mythology of the banshee is a female spirit who portends death, and Banshee wouldn't have a lot of internal logic were it not to kill off a person or two, or at least lose a central character in an interesting way. I just hope it makes us care about them first. I joke about how the show has a LOT of spinning plates in the air, and I have no idea if all the ideas can be properly served, but it will be a lot of fun to see this team try.

This show has everything...

One more thing...

If I'm going to compare this show in any way to Twin Peaks, I have to recall the fantastic Rolling Stone cover which featured Lara Flynn Boyle, Sherilynn Fenn,and Madchen Amick. Someone get Rolling Stone on the line and let's recreate that cover with Ivana Milicevic, Trieste Kelly Dunn and Lili Simmons. It's the right thing to do.

Here's Some Shizz 'Bout Comic Books, Y'All (Spoilers Included Free of Charge)

I always intended to make comic books one of the things I would occasionally touch upon in this rarely-updated blog, but there is so much comic book content on the webs, I frequently felt that I had little to add to the discourse. But in the last month or so, there has been something of a perfect storm that made me want to add some thoughts to the world, so here we are.

One reason I love comics is the ability for new or established creators to bring fresh concepts and characters into the world with relative ease and immediacy. Image Comics is frequently the publisher bringing a good number of these creator-owned properties into the world these days.  Creators have to put up a good story and art if they want their books to sell, of course, but in the current marketplace, having a #1 issue from Image is as good a place to start as any for a flashfire of initial exposure.

BlackAcre #1, cover art by Mike Avon Oeming

A new book I was excited about which is happily living up to my expectataions is BlackAcre, written by newcomer Duffy Boudreau with art by Wendell Cavalcanti. The second issue was just released a week ago, and though I've only seen a sliver of this dystopian future, I want to see more.  Set roughly 100 years in the future, the titular BlackAcre is a walled city built by the wealthy and privileged who foresaw a societal collapse and, ensconced securely away, proceeded to live well as the world around them went to hell. Though the plot is a bit of a slow burn, the main character thus far is a BlackAcre soldier sent into the wild to retrieve a fellow soldier who has been running an operation outside the city walls.  Told he is to bring this man back to a hero's welcome, Hull is handed a "tracking device," which, unbeknowst to him, is an explosive meant to kill both his target and himself. I have to believe any Hearts of Darkness/Apocalypse Now echoes are intentional.

Admittedly, I dig dystopian stories, particularly ones in which said societal decay is realistic and understandable, and BlackAcre provides such a hook, juxtaposing a well-heeled community with the savage surroundings. I hope for more shading and nuance in the lead character, Hull, but a young girl, Lee, captured by religious zealots in the world outside BlackAcre, shows a lot of promise and I suspect is on her way to being a co-lead of some sort. All told, I am as excited about this book as any recent comic book launch in memory, and I hope it has a long life ahead of it. A tiny voice in my head whispers that this could be akin to the early days of The Walking Dead, but I am just enjoying the story for the moment.

I Love Trouble #1, cover art by Mark A. Robinson

Another book from Image I ordered, though almost strictly based on the art in the solicitation catalog, is I Love Trouble, written by Kel Symons with art by Mark A. Robinson. BlackAcre got me excited because of some early praise from creators I like, but Trouble hooked me strictly by the immediate retina burn-in I got from Robinson's art. Initial information about the book played coy about the subject: in the midst of a plane crash Felicia Castillo, a young grifter, realizes she has a super power (spoiler: it's teleportation). She heads back to New Orleans (I am admittedly wired to like stories using NoLa as a setting) to pay off the people she was running from while using her new abilities to commit crimes.

A great thing about Trouble is that we get a good sense of Felicia as a character in the first issue. She's impetuous, a risk-taker, and is devious but not really evil. The best bit in the book is Felicia walking through an art gallery, cutting up a canvas, and disappearing as security rushes her. Cut to her living room, where above the couch hang dozens of stolen art pieces (including a Jack Kirby Thor cover...that as much as anything sold copies of the book when I pointed it out to customers at my local comic shop).  And, hey, Mark Robinson's art is just thrilling. A lot of the story is told graphically, so Robinson does a lot of heavy lifting and is not always clear, but the sheer energy of the art keeps me going. I believe this book is intended to have a limited run, but as long as this creative team keeps it up, I'll be there.

Amazing Spider-Man #700, cover art by Mr Garcin

Another thing I dig about comics is the long-form storytelling opportunities inherent in the medium. Spider-Man, aka my favorite comic book character, has been around for fifty years, and though he has barely aged thanks to a glacially-paced continuity and numerous retcons, his alter ego, Peter Parker, was killed off in last month's Amazing Spider-Man #700, written by Dan Slott. Except that he wasn't.  Though Otto "Dr. Octopus" Octavius switched his mind with Parker's, trapping his foe in his own dying brain, an aspect of Peter still cohabitates his body, preventing Octavius from killing his enemies and tempering other nasty aspects of his personality.

Even though it felt very silly typing that paragraph o' spoilers, there are comic book fans who are taking this very seriously indeed. People want their familiar hero in a familiar setting, just as he was in issue #192 when they started reading the book. They are not enjoying the ride, they are forcing the roller coaster operator to stop at the top of the hill, just before they either get legitimately sick or have one of the best thrills of their year. Either way, they deny themselves the experience of the whole thing, of learning on their own if they will be sick or have a blast. God forbid they enjoy something unexpected.

I love the idea of Dr. Octopus taking up residence in Spider-Man's body, unbeknownst to his friends and his foes. Here's the thing about Peter Parker, and why I believe he has been such a successful character: Unlike most other fantastical heroes, he is basically us. Smarter, perhaps, with a life more like unto a soap opera, but he struggles to pay the rent, help his family and friends, and inevitably screws up in those regards while he is busy saving innocent lives. Peter Parker is largely defined by his failures and his hard luck: dead friends, dead girlfriends, dead uncle. Nothing is more hard luck than dying, then living on as a shadow of yourself while your nemesis lives in your body, vowing to be better at your life than you ever were. It's one more entertaining kick in the nuts to a guy we pull for while secretly reveling in the schadenfreude, and a clever way of exploring the fundamental aspects of Spider-Man, Peter Parker, and Otto Octavius. I don't know if Dan Slott and his artistic collaborators Ryan Stegman, Guiseppi Camuncoli, and Humberto Ramos (who has become, in my estimation, one of the top five Spider-Man artists in history) will continue to  keep the continuum entertaining in the new Superior Spider-Man title, but they have earned my curiosity and trust. Here's hoping.

Superior Spider-Man #1, cover art by Ryan Stegman

Burlesque's Best

I have written a bit about my enjoyment of burlesque before, but nothing could have prepared my mind for the gale-force blowing it received during my first visit to Burlesque Hall of Fame Weekend in Las Vegas at The Orleans hotel and casino this year. It was just over a month ago and I still feel a contact high. One could liken it to a first visit to Comic Con International in San Diego, or a trip to Bonnaroo. Though those latter two events draw more people, there is still an act of devotion and pilgrimage and community at the heart of the journey, and BHOF is big enough to feel inclusive, yet small enough to be intimate. It is just about perfect.

The Orleans Video Marquee - Photo by Robert Paul Lewis

I could write about a lot: the interesting people I met, the late night carousing, how much Vegas has changed in a few short years since my last visit, how enjoyable a session of Michelle L'Amour's Naked Girls Reading can be, how entertaining a bunch of burlesque performers bowling can be, or my two-mile round-trip walk at midnight to the nearest In-N-Out Burger. But it is the performances one attends BHOF to see, and so it is performances about which I shall write.

First, some qualifications. I am not nor do I pretend to be a judge. Any subjective comments I make should not be taken as any sort of censure of other acts. There were NO bad acts of any sort during those four nights of shows.  Only the best of the best are invited to perform, and they all deserve and are granted respect for that alone. That said, I am not terribly excited by boylesque, but I do wish to say that I was enthralled every moment Russell Bruner was on stage. Bruner is a consummate showman and would absolutely make this list were I not only considering the ladies. Also, Ray Gunn's Narcissus number, in which he performs with himself on a video screen, was conceptually one of the strongest of the weekend, so props to Ray. I had a great time at the Legends Night, hosted by the ever-graceful World Famous BOB, but I admittedly know not enough of the rich history of burlesque to adequately put these acts into context, so I will avoid listing them individually and instead simply recognize how damned awesome it is to see these ladies still up and entertaining decades after they began.

Also, I am going to choose to omit the showcase, showstopping performance by last year's Miss Exotic World, Indigo Blue. The epic production value simply makes it unfair to judge other acts against it. It was a rousing, inspiring send-off, though, and only makes me want to see many more performances from Indigo Blue.

Anyway, in no particular order until I get to #1:

MY FIVE FAVORITE BHOF 2012 PERFORMANCES 

Photo courtesy of Derek Jackson

ANITA COOKIE: I have seen Anita perform with her Dangerous Curves Ahead traveling troupe, and really enjoy her work.  This amazingly playful act wherein she accompanies herself on a variety of percussive instruments while humming, yelping, and otherwise vocalizing the classic burlesque song "Night Train," finishing by twirling her tassels to play a cymbal, was one of the funniest of the weekend, and I am a sucker for funny.

Photo courtesy of Derek Jackson

KITTY BANG BANG: Probably my favorite prop of the weekend was the giant, glitter-covered garbage can from which Kitty Bang Bang emerges to begin her act. Kitty does an energetic, power-note routine to Henry Mancini's "Pink Panther" theme that meets and exceeds the promise of that awesome prop. It's rather meta, in its way, because isn't burlesque really the art where glamor meets the street? I think so. Kitty was one of the few performers my shy self actually tracked down and thanked after the show. I can't say enough good things about this act. The epic story of the trash can/wheelie bin is also one of my favorites from a weekend filled with fun stories.

Photo courtesy of Derek Jackson

LOLA FROST & CHERRY ON TOP: These shows are long, and even though every act is damn good, it takes something amazing to get the reaction these ladies received for their mummy/Egyptian themed duo number, performed to Royal T featuring Roisin Murphy's "Crookers." I was amazed by the enthusiasm they brought to this act and how their flirtatious energy built throughout the performance. This was something special.

Photo courtesy of Derek Jackson

RUBY JOULE: I have seen Ruby perform a few times the past couple of years, and she was admittedly a favorite of mine coming into the weekend. The particular thrill of her Vegas performance was that I saw Ruby do an earlier version of this elegant yet lively act in New Orleans last year. Seeing her perform it this time (to a mix of "Ecoutez, Repetez" by Touch and Go and "Put the Blame on Mame" by Banu Gibson)  was to witness a fully confident performer owning her act as well as the crowd viewing it. It was simply one of those alchemical moments where everything was the best possible version of itself.  Ruby won "Best Debut" and "Most Classic" trophies, and I couldn't have been happier for her.

Photo courtesy of Derek Jackson

JULIE ATLAS MUZ: One of the reasons I love burlesque so much is that it occasionally renders me speechless.  I remember the first time I saw the amazing Iva Handfull do her "Firestarter" punked-up fan dance. I get chills even thinking about the way the room exploded in applause afterward. I saw the very first show in which some of the members of my hometown's Salome Cabaret performed, and watching them today makes me smile like a psychotic getting a hit of laughing gas. I had heard of Julie but admittedly knew little about her before this weekend. She won the Miss Exotic World title in 2006, so I knew she would be great.  I just didn't expect her to be this great. She entered from the audience dressed as a cop, chasing away emcee Bastard Keith in the midst of his rant about the dangerous overreach of authority. She then proceeded, to the strains of KRS One's "Sound of Da Police," to molotov cocktail the damn house down. If Vegas could harness the energy of this act, the Strip could be disconnected from the power grid for the whole night and not suffer dimming of any sort or degree. She achieves a physical effect in her disrobing that still baffles me and which I lack words to describe, but even without that bit of awesomeness, words still fail. If I were attending BHOF weekend for an epiphanous moment, then Julie Atlas Muz provided it.

Photo courtesy of Derek Jackson

There were so many other performances I loved. I finally saw Dirty Martini's stellar balloon number, a classic act from a legendary performer. It is impossible to not fall a little bit in love with Roxi D'Lite. Perle Noire could resuscitate the near-dead with her sheer energy and confidence. LouLou D'vil could likely stop or start warfare, depending on her whims. Coco Lectric is a bundle of pure breathtaking. Cleo Viper may well have been an actual butterfly in another life. One should take any opportunity possible to hang out with Black Mariah, who was not performing but was still kick-ass. Also, one should hire David "The Bishop of Burlesque" Bishop to stage manage every show possible. When there is that much love for a stage manager, he must be doing many things right.

Finally, congratulations to the new Miss Exotic World, Imogen Kelly, whose amazing flamingo costume was eclipsed only by her charm as a performer.

I hope to be back next year.

And I hope I get to see the movie Burlesque Assassins well before then.

Some brief thoughts on Andy Griffith

I was working on another post, but admittedly a lot of my thoughts today regard the death of Andy Griffith.

Now, I never watched Matlock, but in my youth I was subjected to constant viewing of The Andy Griffith Show because my family, specifically my dad, loved it.  I usually half-watched it, busy with a comic book or some other amusement, but I came to know all the characters in Mayberry fairly well. I would never claim to be a giant fan of the show, and couldn't quote episode titles or the like as could one of my college professors who helped research a book on the show (Hi, Dr. Lee), but some things stuck with me, even if I wasn't aware of them at the time. Family and friends are important. Be true to your word. Don't get too worked up about problems in the moment, as life tends to sort them out over time. It could have been preachy, and its small-town truisms certainly could have been seen as treacly, but it just felt like life, which is a credit to the people that wrote and performed the show. It felt authentic. This is the new golden age of television, but I don't know how many shows I can honestly describe as such these days.

At the center of the show, the moral center, if you will, was Andy Taylor, Mayberry's local sheriff.  To his credit, Griffith never seemed afraid of being upstaged by Don Knotts, who even the unreasonable among us would admit created one of history's most indelible and memorable comedic characters in blundering deputy Barney Fife. Griffith as Taylor tended to win over a cadre of spirited locals and wayward relatives with a calm, understanding demeanor and thoughtful wisdom in just the right amounts. The fact that most episodes (and, yes, the black & white episodes are better than the colors) can stand up to scrutiny and remain funny to this day speaks outstandingly well of Griffith's instincts and the, yes, authenticity and universality of Mayberry and its inhabitants.  As a writer of fictions myself, The Andy Griffith Show was an early lesson in creating consistent, empathetic characters and also an absolute masterclass in world-building.  That last bit is a phrase most often used in fantasy, in creating the geography, iconography, and internal logic of a fictional locale, but if the object of building a world is to make it feel strange and familiar all at once, then Mayberry fits the definition.

I don't know that Griffith ever had the greatest range as a performer.  The most I've seen him stretch is in Elia Kazan's A Face In The Crowd, and his Lonesome Rhodes could perhaps be described as Andy Taylor's dark mirror. He absolutely nails the part of a homespun con artist sick with power. But with The Andy Griffith Show he hit a sweet spot, and in many ways became the nation's father figure for a good portion of the 60's and beyond.  One could make a case that he remained beloved because he was a symbol of steadfastness in a turbulent point in U.S. history, a decent man trying to do right even as the concept of right and wrong was being turned upside down.

Regardless, I am glad he was around, and I believe he will be for generations to come. Thanks to my dad for always having you on the TV, Andy. Rest in Peace.

My Kind of People

This blog remains a work in progress, though that scarcely excuses how lax I have become about posting to it.  I have lots of topics I wish to tackle, though I remain unsure about how I should approach them. For instance, I love music. Less than some, more than others, but it is an important element in my life.

The problem is, I know next to nothing about it.  I could sit here and discuss any number of arts, but my knowledge of music ends at whatever basics the music teacher at my middle school was able to imbue while I was hoping I wouldn't be chosen for the recorder solo in the middle of class that day. Music was not terribly important to my family when I was a kid, so I mostly heard whatever was playing on the popular country station at the time, which was not exactly the golden age of country music. I would love to be able to discuss rhythmic progressions or the science of songcraft with some authority, but I instead have to fall back on the hackneyed trope of "I know what I like."

One of the things I have liked since "Stupid Girl" licked its way into my ear is Garbage.  Even before my wicked crush on Shirley Manson, I had a wicked crush on her voice and her assured sensibility. Most of the women I was around at that time had no idea what they wanted, and here I was presented with a women who most assuredly did know, even if she changed her mind between songs.

When I used to work retail, in the music department, Garbage was always a band I tried to turn other people on to. And I worked with some really knowledgeable people, some musicians themselves, so I had to really up my game.  WHY did I like Garbage?  There was a dude I worked with who loved any music marketed using the image of an attractive female, and he was roundly derided for his (admittedly terrible) taste. I couldn't simply talk about Shirley.  I came up with the idea that Garbage was deconstructed pop. Despite the bells and whistles, the unconventional noises that formed the bedrock of their songs, they were based around catchy pop hooks, twisted and contorted. Instead of sweet bubblegum, Shirley sang about the icky wad on the bottom of your shoe. That nastiness on the bottom of your sole (pun intended) is ultimately far more interesting than telling someone how perfect they are in an attempt to nail them. Relationships can be twisty and unpleasant even as they bring you great joy. Emotions and perspectives are complex and ever-changing. The band's ability to speak to that is why I can and do listen to Garbage's albums in their entirety to this day. Sonically, they brought in elements of industrial, pure rock, and a pulsing vein of goth (all the more appropriate that their new album was released on World Goth Day).

These were pop songs for outsiders.

"Stupid Girl" was great for me, an acknowledgement from a woman that certain types of women should be avoided (and, really, certain types of people. Stupidity is gender-neutral). "Only Happy When It Rains" remains a favorite, one of the all-time great anthems of depressiveness.  "Vow" is a spiraling gyre illustrating the hazards of obsession. "Special" is a great kiss-off song, and features one of the great underrated videos of all time. "Medication" is a heartbreaker about mental illness (I particularly love the acoustic version of the song). "The Trick Is To Keep Breathing" is an empowerment treatise for the broken and is absolutely, weepingly beautiful. "Kick My Ass," a rarely-heard benefit album contribution, lets us hear that the band could probably do an awesome country album if they wanted to. And that's just from the era of their first two albums! Their next two, Beautiful Garbage and Bleed Like Me never quite launched singles like the first two, but "Cherry Lips," "Androgyny," "Bad Boyfriend" and "Why Do You Love Me?" are all damn fine songs. They just never broke the way the other songs did. Way of the world.

I have to say, though, that I have a fantasy musical moment.  I think that if I were at a show (I've seen the band twice, both times in Seattle, which Shirley compared to her native Glasgow) and could lock eyes with Miss Manson as she sang "Right Between The Eyes" and feel a human connection as she sings "Life's a bitch, and then you die my love," I could go on through existence not needing to hear any additional music.  I would be good.

It's been seven years since I first heard "Right Between the Eyes," and a couple since I had heard anything about a solo collection Shirley was working on. I always hoped to hear more from one of my favorite bands, but didn't expect it.  Then, when poking around and hearing about a tribute album for U2's Achtung Baby, I saw it.

Garbage was covering "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses."  I listened to it immediately on Youtube.  It was exquisite. But more importantly, they were back in the studio.

The new disc, the self-produced, independently-released Not Your Kind of People, is out this week, and I purposefully avoided hearing it, avoided downloading or even streaming it, until I could hold a disc in my hands. I wanted to be able to sit in my car and turn my phone off and hear from some old friends and how their lives are fucked up and still yet hopeful all at the same time. I wanted to feel a sense of permanence at this reunion, hence the disc. I have no idea if I'll interact with the new songs the way I have with the old, but I love stories about things coming back to life. And Garbage is just the kind of band to give those undead stories melody and substance.

Hershel's Farmhouse Blues

So, I enjoy The Walking Dead quite a bit. It's not my favorite show, but I watch every week and love the fact that they are making bold deviations from the source material (the comic book just published its ninety-fourth issue, so there's a lot of material to be mined). Anyway, this week featured a shocking character death which surprised few people who follow the showbiz scuttlebutt, but it was nevertheless a sad moment for the show.  I wanted to comment on it in some way, and somehow Johnny Cash's Folsom Prison Blues got into my head (which is not a rare occurrence, by any means).

So, without further ado, and SPOILER ALERT:

Hershel's Farmhouse Blues:

I hear the walker comin'
It's shamblin' 'round the bend,
And we ain't seen Sophia,
Since I don't know when,
I'm stuck in Hershel's farmhouse,
And time keeps draggin' on,
But that walker keeps a-shamblin',
Meat hangin' from the bone.

When Carl was just a baby,
Lori never told him, "Son,
Always be a good boy,
Don't ever play with guns,"
If he'd shot that creekbed walker,
Just to watch it die,
We'd be down one more bullet
But Dale would be alive.

 If I get enough feedback, I might even finish the last two verses.

A Confession of Character

I think we love stories, not just for the stories themselves and whether or not they're true, but because of the characters who inhabit the tale.  We want people whose company we enjoy, who make us laugh, or even someone we love to hate, someone who engages our thoughts and emotions in a vivid way.

We're in the midst of television premiere season, the Emmys aired recently, and, as always, I watch too much of the idiot box.  Now, one of the reasons I love TV is that it allows characters to boil, simmer, and grow over time.  Unfortunately, the nature of the medium frequently requires its characters to stay static, to only have the illusion of change, because networks don't want a character on a popular show to suddenly become unrecognizable.  That said, there is a power in inviting your favorite people into your home each week, and that is the true power of television: familiarity.

So, I began to consider my current favorite television characters, and came up with a list of five.  I had to develop some criteria; obviously, the show had to be currently on the air (sorry, Agent Dale Cooper). Also, no reality personalities (sorry, Coach) or people essentially playing themselves (sorry, Louis C.K.), and no character from a show that has been on the air for only one season (sorry, Tyrion Lannister). This ended up being the trickiest bit, only one character per show.  As each selected character is part of a talented ensemble, this became a grueling internal debate.  Yes, I am the sort of person who debates with himself over fictional characters on television. Anyway, despite some rough near-misses (sorry, Kenny Powers), here are....

MY FIVE FAVORITE CURRENT TELEVISION CHARACTERS

Boyd Crowder (Justified)

First, I will point to this blog's very first post.  This one is pretty much a given, isn't it? I don't know that I have much to add, other than Walt Goggins continues to amaze, and even though Boyd seems back on the forking path of outlaw ways, I doubt it will be that easy for him.  Sorry, Raylan Givens and Art Mullen.


Ron Swanson (Parks and Recreation)

I don't think anyone could have predicted that, out of this fantastic collective, Nick Offerman's Ron would be the guy who would raise the level of the show from good to great. Head of a governmental department yet staunchly anti-government, Ron is still quietly supportive of those around him. All he really wants is a nice variety of meats and breakfast fare, some woodworking equipment, and quiet.  The Ron Swanson Pyramid of Greatness speaks for itself. Sorry, Leslie Knope, Tom Haverford, April Ludgate, and Andy Dwyer.


Walter Bishop (Fringe)

A wingnut scientist who fixates on snack foods and casually drops LSD could easily become a one-note joke, but John Noble absolutely infuses Walter Bishop with a humanizing sadness at the pit of his soul, and a man trying to correct his own youthful mistakes which have threatened the world around him is great dramatic fodder.  I don't wish to spoil any of Fringe's rich surprises for the many people who have unfortunately not seen it, but I will say that Noble has had many opportunities to explore both the Walt we know and Walt as he may have been.  I'm far from a sci-fi geek, but if all sci-fi were this grounded in creative, insightful writing and fully realized characters like Walter Bishop, I could be. Sorry, Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop.


Walter White (Breaking Bad)

Obviously, characters named Walt are making out pretty well on this list. Walter White (aka Heisenberg) continues to bulldoze my expectations.  Created by Vince Gilligan, one of my favorite writers in any medium, and brought to life by Bryan Cranston, Walter White is a study of a decent person doing absolutely the wrong thing for absolutely the right reasons and becoming both less and more of a man as his actions take a toll on himself and everyone around him. Breaking Bad is a fascinating take on the erosion of the middle class, a quorum on the nature of masculinity, and a lens into the nature of social contracts and the weight of the human soul. Touching all of those topics while also being a rip-snorting crime tale which shocks and surprises and astounds during almost every episode, well, adjectives fail.  And this show wouldn't exist without Walter White, as central a central character as one will find in the medium. As an aside, had I started this blog a few weeks later, it might have been titled "The One Who Knocks," instead. Sorry, Jesse Pinkman, Skylar White, Saul Goodman, Hank Schrader, and Gus Fring.


Joan Holloway (Mad Men)

It would be easy to write this one off and dismiss my critical faculties.  I mean, you can see a picture of Christina Hendricks just above, right? On one hand, 'nuff said. On the other, Joan is indeed my favorite character on the show, and not just because she's stunning/scorching/sexy.  There are lots of attractive women on television, but few get to play a character this intriguing. Mad Men is rightly praised as one of the best shows on television because of the way it approaches its material, the change in American culture in the 1960's as filtered through a group of people who work in the advertising field. Although we care about the standard tropes of drama the show presents; relationships begun, ended, and challenged, triumphs and tragedies both personal and professional, and fun characters doing interesting things in a unique environment, the fact that these events are more novelistic than most shows and can be debated and analyzed simply elevates the entire program.  Many would argue that Don Draper is the lead, but I tend to see it as more of a show about Peggy Olson, the young secretary whose creativity and desire soon have her working alongside, and even surpassing, the men.  Joan Holloway is somewhat of a counterpoint character to Peggy, a woman who is no less driven and perhaps even more confident and capable who was probably born a few years too early and is therefore content to manage the office to within an inch of its life rather than possibly one day partnering in it. That analysis may make it seem that Joan is a tragic character,  but she is anything but.  I'm just curious what Joan Holloway might be like were she to have had her formative years in, say, the 1990's instead of the 1950's.  She might well be the First Emperor of The World had that happened. Sorry, Don Draper, Peggy Olson, Roger Sterling, Pete Campbell, Bert Cooper, Harry Crane...well, pretty much most of the entire cast.

Obviously, I missed some great characters and some great shows, but this damn blog is nothing if not subjective.  If any readers haven't yet seen the shows represented here, I hope they get a chance to enjoy them as much as I do.

Watts In a Name

As illustrated in a previous post, I am intrigued by stage names and pseudonyms, and over the last couple of years I have had the opportunity to witness the act of creation made flesh by attending several burlesque shows, most recently during last weekend's New Orleans Burlesque Festival. Burlesque names are always fun, usually creative, and sometimes nigh-genius. Most of them attempt to evoke a playful cheekiness or a sense of throwback glamor, and I wanted to share with everyone ten of my favorite noms de guerre currently gracing the stage:

Betsy Bottom Dollar
Alotta Boutte
Ava Garter
Dirty Martini
Immodesty Blaize
Baby Le Strange
Charlotte Treuse
Ursula Undress
Iva Handfull
Coco Lectric & Ruby Joule

Grouping Coco and Ruby together is a bit of a cheat, but it makes it easier to explain that they belong to the same performing troupe, Austin, TX's Jigglewatts, easily my favorite name for a troupe. A close runner-up is Knoxville, TN's Cabaret Salome.  Both groups feature not only skilled and passionate performers, but wicked senses of humor and girls who not only strip, but sing.  Texas' Jolie Ampere Goodnight has the voice of an angel, and I would gladly pay money to hear Tennessee's Siren Santina perform a conventional concert in which she does not disrobe.  What can I say, I love the songbirds.

Seeing so many great performers with so many great names made me consider what a poorly-chosen burlesque name might be.  So, to honor the innate humor of burlesque and neo-burlesque, I had to generate a list to counterpoint the many clever names listed above.  Without further ado, here are ten names burlesque performers should not choose:

Penny Slots
Piscene Quality
Brazen Hussein, the Persian Pepperpot
Rue FiFi
Mena Pause
Melancholia Dane
Clams Medea
Roxy Codone
Trisha Moniasis
Virginia Dentata

Some of those names might actually work for roller derby girls, but that will be a post for another time.

The New 52

One thing I've scarcely discussed in this blog, but something I nevertheless love, is comic books.  And, at the moment, the biggest news in comics is something I mentioned briefly in an older post, the fact that DC Comics is in the midst of relauching (their editors do not care for the term "rebooting") their entire superhero line of comics with 52 all-new #1 issues.  Though some of the books are pretty much continuing as they had been (I'm looking at you, Batman and Green Lantern), other characters/concepts are being reformatted either cosmetically or wholesale (Superman and Wonder Woman, being the most recognizable) and some concepts are being pulled from the vaults and a shiny coat of paint applied (I, Vampire).  I plan to flip through most of these books and buy a fair number of them, but a few in particular have whetted my appetite.  So, without further ado, here are my...

TOP FIVE MOST-ANTICIPATED "NEW 52" DC COMICS

Action Comics

Grant Morrison may well be insane. Whereas some comic writers coast through several issues of content on one nugget of an idea, Morrison tends to throw a Googolplex of ideas at the reader to see which ones might stick. He can clearly write Superman, as his award-winning All-Star Superman collaboration with artist Frank Quitely attests, but rethinking Superman's formative years and recasting him as something of an angry young man takes chutzpah. Even if this fails, it is likely to be a glorious failure, and I can't wait to finally make my trip to my LCS where this has been awaiting me for a couple of weeks.

Demon Knights

Paul Cornell is an up-and-coming writer (some would say he's already arrived), and this medieval history of the DC Universe just looks intriguing as hell.  I'm not necessarily a nuts-and-bolts sword and sorcery/fantasy guy, but maybe Game of Thrones worked its magic on me.  Plus, Etrigan the Demon is one of the best characters in the DC stable, capable of serving as hero, anti-hero, or villain, depending on how he's handled.  I'm just really looking forward to this one.

Animal Man

Animal Man is a peculiar character best known for his self-titled series which, in the late 80's, was an early breakout work of the aforementioned Grant Morrison.  He's an unconventionally weird hero (his power is the ability to borrow characteristics of various animals) whose stories have frequently focused not just on beating up villains, but on the character's family life and struggles.  He's become something of an everyman character living in a fantastic world, and writer Lemire has few critical detractors and is capable of nuanced, idiosyncratic work.  This book may be a perfect storm.

Frankenstein, Agent of S.H.A.D.E

This an another Jeff Lemire book.  Just look at it.  How can you not want to buy that, or at least read it?  I want to see Lemire go gonzo nutzoid, utilizing a public domain monster and a new iteration of old DC standby The Creature Commandos embroiled in espionage. Top to bottom, this may be the book to which I am most looking forward.  Feel free to psychoanalyze.

Batgirl

It should be clear by now that, as a comic book fan, I am mainly drawn to writers (though I firmly believe comics to be entirely collaborative efforts between writers and artists). Gail Simone is writing this one, controversially bringing the Barbara Gordon Batgirl back as a superhero after a long stretch in which a partially paralyzed Barbara reinvented herself as an information broker named Oracle and led a team of operatives known as the Birds of Prey while also becoming perhaps even more popular as one of the most fully realized disabled characters in the history of the medium.  So I'm curious how the very talented Simone will continue to grow Barbara Gordon and how her new status quo will be received by fandom over a period of months.

That said, I'm buying Batgirl primarily because of the covers.  Adam Hughes may be not only my favorite artist working in comics, but possibly my favorite contemporary artist period. I'm planning a post precisely on that topic, but for the moment, that's enough to get me to pick up the darn thing every month.

There are certainly more books I'm looking forward to, but each of these have a peculiarity factor or a wow factor other books don't quite have for me (I absolutely know Scott Snyder's Batman is going to be great, and while I'm curious as to Gail Simone and Ethan Van Sciver's reimagining of Firestorm, I've never particularly loved the character).  I just hope these books reach DC's stated goal: bringing both new fans and lapsed comic book readers back into the stores to buy comics.

I hope they don't also forget that thousands of us never went away, though.

Keep On Pushing My Love

So, they finally did it.

They finally put Borders out of its misery.

I recently posted on my social media home, "I loved you, but you were too stupid to live."  Let me elaborate on both counts.

Borders opened in my hometown just after I had finished work on a movie, the first movie I ever worked on, in an unpaid production assistant position that was nevertheless one of the most significant jobs I've ever undertaken.  I came back home to plan my future and, after a couple of odd jobs, I lucked into the new Borders as seasonal help.  It helped that a good friend worked there and recommended me, and after the seasonal work ended they just kept putting me on the schedule.  No complaints, as most of my co-workers were great and, like me, a good number of them were folks trying to figure out exactly where their life would take them.  I made lifelong friends and even valued the work I did.  I worked mostly in the music/video department (back when the company cared enough to staff those areas) and I learned more about wide varieties of music there than probably anyplace else in my life.  I eventually moved away and, after a stint at an independent bookstore where I learned more about bookselling than a Borders chain store could ever teach (ironically, I ended up at the indie when a Borders in Seattle wouldn't hire me because they could pay a new, untrained employee around a dollar less an hour than they would have had to pay me), I ended up back at another Borders in Los Angeles, a store that actually valued my experience.  My life pinballed around a lot, and many times when I found myself back home between gigs, I kept a good enough relationship with the hometown store that I was able to pick up some shifts and keep the bills paid.  I even went back full-time for a while after circumstances saw me back home more permanently. And even when I wasn't working at Borders, it was a place I enjoyed visiting and shopping.  If I visited a new city, it was always fun to find the local Borders and see how it measured up.

As I mentioned, I had a great bunch of co-workers at one time, people who had experience with books and media, or at least a passionate interest.  A surplus of people worked at Borders because they loved to be surrounded by books and music, even if most of them weren't true audiophiles or literati.  We were lucky that very few high school and college kids who just wanted a job they could slog through for a few hours a week to earn beer money made it through our application process.  And management actually cared about our opinions; I got more than one friend an interview at the store because I thought they'd be a good fit and most of the management seemed to value my opinion.  We had lots of employees to cover shifts, and we had enough customers that all five of our registers would frequently need to be manned on weekends.  And many nights, our crew would go grab drinks to blow off steam and complain about dumb customers and what we considered foolish corporate strategies.  Everybody bitches about work, I've found, but it turns out those foolish corporate strategies were the beginning of the end. 

I can say with some degree of authority that I saw Borders circling the drain for many a year.  This was one protracted death rattle.  I don't know what was the thing that did the company in.  Maybe it was the doing away with each store having a community relations coordinator who helped plan events for each local store.  Get rid of that position and, of course, stores are going to have fewer events and, therefore, fewer people coming into the store for events.  At the same time, stores halved their management staffs and relegated some to "supervisor" roles with less pay and less authority, showing, in my mind, a dearth of trust in the local rank-and-file who used to stress to employees that, while Borders was a chain, each store was unique and would strive to tailor itself to its community and employee strengths and interests.

Maybe it was the terrible launch of Borders.com, followed by the just plain idiotic turning over of the keys of their internet presence to Amazon.com (I cannot even begin to type the number of words to describe how, even then, I and everyone else with half a cranium knew that was a foolhardy and dangerous lapse in common sense) followed by reclaiming Borders.com well too late for it to do any good.

Maybe it was when stores began to strive to sell novelty items like the loathed, clearly gimmicky and sad Big Mouth Billy Bass singing fish.

Maybe it was when a bunch of department store and/or grocery store executives started running the company and tried to sell books like any other mass-produced commodity, when books are clearly unique luxury items that tend to be bought and sold by people who care about the product.

Maybe it was when the company started pushing "make" books on the staff and the customers, tying store performance to the sale of a specific title rather than allowing employees to properly engage customers and tailor recommendations to what that customer might actually like instead of one arbitrary book.

Maybe it was the attrition of qualified managers and booksellers, as I saw several forced out, some near-criminally, with replacements barely trained and scarcely qualified or passionate for the job.

Maybe it was more than one asshat regional manager lording over dying stores and trying to motivate through fear and the promise of pain.

Maybe it was the endless shipments of mostly-useless kid's toys that most stores didn't have room for, causing the damned children's sections to be even more messy than when they were just places with picture books that clueless, entitled parents left their kids to destroy.

Maybe it was the addition of self-service kiosks at the information desks to encourage patrons to look up items and their availability without aid of a pesky, knowledgeable employee.

Maybe it was Borders' inability to see the ebook revolution on their doorstep and their late-inning partnership with the Kobo e-reader, an e-reader absolutely no one I know owns.

Maybe it was expanding too quickly during the salad years to show "growth" to stockholders and signing long-term leases that were no longer viable when the economy took a tumble.

Maybe it was panicking and relying on a flood of e-mail coupons to drive traffic into the stores, training regulars to devalue the store's merchandise, always knowing there was likely to be a new coupon in their in-box within hours or days.

It was, of course, all of those things. And more.

It was like a rockslide.  It started with a few bad decisions that were somewhat defensible, if short sighted, then became an avalanche of bad decisions, which were frequently hastily implemented at the store level, then changed to something else almost immediately, leaving employees responsible for actions which even their managers didn't fundamentally understand.

I am reminded of this thoroughly unspectacular kid I went to high school with. The only noteworthy thing about him was how small and scrawny he was. This didn't stop him from being a real loudmouth, however.  That might have been an interesting dichotomy if anything he said was ever interesting or witty, but it never was. I heard a very large athlete once say how much he'd like to hit this kid, but he was afraid he'd kill him.  So we learned to tune this gnat of a classmate out and he became mostly background noise to our lives.  Had this guy started his academic career as a prodigy of some sort, he would make a great metaphor for Borders. It was a sickly once-promising bookstore that people eventually learned to ignore even as it begged for attention.

I don't want to make it seem as if being hired at Borders made one a saint.  I worked with my share of incompetents, losers, lazy-asses, weirdos, bores, burnouts, manchildren, antisocial dicks, power-trippers, and just plain idiots.  But, on average, I've not worked with better people than those I encountered at Borders, and most of the above scofflaws tended not to last too long (or were quickly promoted to management...ZING!). But a lot of the really good people who have stuck it out for years are now having to work with liquidators and preside over the wake of their own jobs and the stores they loved. That's sad any way you look at it, and there aren't a lot of jobs to go around right now.

It is perhaps silly to be sentimental about a bookstore.  For all the good Borders did me, it also burned me and some good friends more than once, and it should not be forgotten that it helped put a lot of dedicated neighborhood bookstores out of business.  It was virulently, almost comically, afraid of unionization. Some of its leadership were not only poor businesspeople, but miserable human beings, to boot. But Borders allowed a greater degree of personality than Barnes and Noble (a store I have never enjoyed shopping in) ever did, and in its heyday it brought a large diversity of titles to areas underserved by other bookstores.  Since we tend to remember the good stuff and marginalize the bad, I guess that's the legacy it will leave behind.

I will close with this, an image that will always stick with me, among many images from that time in my life that have persevered.  In the music department, we used to be able to open up any CD and allow a prospective customer to listen to it, a perk which was roundly abused by the clientele and rightly abandoned as digital listening stations became de rigeur.  One day, a customer came to me and explained that she had to find music for her father's funeral.  She was looking for a specific version of "Danny Boy" if memory serves me correctly, and even if I don't remember her exact request, I do recall quite vividly the tears that welled up in her eyes when she heard the familiar notes of her father's favorite song.  I said little as I repackaged the CD for her to purchase, but that day I knew that my work in some miniscule little retail job had managed to profoundly effect someone's life and provide a need met in a moment of crisis. I think when most people go to work, they hope they can have a moment like that.

R.I.P.

Looking For The Heart of Friday Night

I am struck by the number of people who are freaking out about the ending of the Harry Potter movies this Friday, a series of films based on well-known books to which even non-readers probably know the ending.  I've not seen any of the movies, even though I see a lot of movies, and I don't care to start (I don't particularly want  to wade through the first two Chris Columbus films to get to the Alfonso Cuaron movie and beyond). I don't hold any ill will toward the movies or Pottermania in general and I'm glad people enjoy them, but this weekend marks the end of another franchise that does mean something to me, and I'll be sad to see it go.

I've not read the book Friday Night Lights by H.G. Bissinger nor seen the 2004 movie of the same name starring Billy Bob Thornton, but when the television show premiered on NBC in fall of 2006, I gave it a shot.  It was one of the better-reviewed pilots of that year, and, clearly, I watch too much television.  I didn't love it at first, but it had just enough of a spark to keep me coming back.  The acting was mostly good even if they trotted out some stereotypes I'm not fond of, like the secretly sensitive bad boy and the not-so-secretly slutty cheerleader.  The show finally found a wonderfully naturalistic groove as people realized the show used football as window dressing to explore community and friendship and growing up and commitment to family and work.  It's the show blue collar America claims they want yet never support when it's on the air.  Yes, the people who watched and supported a show about family values in a small Texas town were mostly urban literati in ivory towers. The show barely got a second season despite ending as one of the best shows on TV, especially network TV, which keeps getting its dramatic ass handed to it by HBO, Showtime, AMC and FX.

That second season was easily the worst thing the show has done, particularly an absurd murder plot and then an appearance by Coach Taylor's wife's ultra-successful ex-boyfriend (played by the show's executive producer, Peter Berg).  Perhaps not being able to finish the season because of a writer's strike was a mercy killing, even though other great stories were threaded in beside the lunacy.  Still low-rated but championed by critics and a loyal fan-base, a game-changing deal was struck between DirecTV and NBC in which DirecTV ponied up some costs to produce the show. DirecTV got the rights to air the show first, with NBC effectively getting the rights to re-runs.  As FNL was one of the cheapest dramas being produced on network TV, it made sense to keep it around on a network as poorly run and starved for programming as NBC was at the time.

Seasons three through five took the bold steps of saying goodbye to graduating, popular characters, establishing new ones, and even forcing Coach Taylor out of his job and into the miserable situation of having to rebuild the football program at a neighboring, rival school.  The show kept plugging along, reveling in small victories and rich, believable characters, not all of whom were always likable. Again, the football remained largely a secondary pursuit in the drama and something the writing staff clearly struggled with at times.  The Dillon Panthers and the East Dillon Lions each won far too many games on dramatic plays in the closing seconds, but, like a girlfriend who takes too long to get ready to go out, some things you learn to forgive.

Until FNL, my favorite familial relationship on television was the father/daughter dynamic of Veronica Mars and Keith Mars, though with all the murders and various other crimes on that show, I don't know if one can argue that it's a realistic relationship.  But Eric and Tami Taylor are nothing if not realistic.  They deal with budgeting issues and pregnancy and a misbehaving teenage daughter and conflicts brought about by their jobs (Tami, at various times on the show, works as school principal and guidance counselor) with a dignity and grace.  They don't always agree and they may argue, but one never doubts their love and commitment to each other and their family.  Besides the show's lynchpin central relationship, it did a good job of dealing with a variety of issues during the show's run: racism, class issues, sports injuries, absentee parenting, addiction, mental illness, et. al.  It also presented maybe the best television episodes I've ever seen about teen sexuality (when Matt Saracen and Julie Taylor choose NOT to have sex) and the domestic cost of war (Matt Saracen burying his dad).  Maybe I just like Zach Gilford as Matt Saracen, the kid who is a fair football player, but not good enough to get a college scholarship.  I also love Adrianne Palicki as Tyra Collette, a smart, willful girl who may or may not have a future as the town slut; Jesse Plemons as Landry Clarke, the always-entertaining smartass best friend; Michael B. Jordan as Vince Howard, the street kid who thrives under the structure of football; Brad Leland as Buddy Garrity, loud-mouthed booster with too much influence; and Scott Porter as Jason Street, the golden boy who loses it all and gains some of it back.  I even came to appreciate the hated "secretly sensitive bad boy," the oft-shirtless Taylor Kitsch as Tim Riggins.

Sadly, this is the kind of show that could have lasted a decade and still been vibrant and interesting. The fact that it made it five years and still remained the most consistently good show on network television despite terrible ratings and the curse of being "critically acclaimed" is a minor miracle.  But I happily anticipate a few years from now when I'll take a few DVDs down from the shelf and cue up a streaming service for the rest, and I'll watch the whole series again from start to finish. Honestly and truly, Friday Night Lights is one of the best damn shows I've ever seen, and it may be the best show ever done about both high school and sports. I may keep tonight's final episode on the TiVo for a few days before I finish it off, because when it's done, there shall be no more. I doubt that I will cry, but I may well feel like it.

Farewell, Friday Night Lights. It was a pleasure.

-----------------

As an aside, the ESPN Classic network has bought the rights to rebroadcast Friday Night Lights from the beginning, and Bill Simmons' GRANTLAND web venture has an entertaining oral history of the show just posted.  Both are worth your time.

Begin the Begin

Just wanted to make note of something I discovered last week and have watched three or four times since.  I told you I love title sequences! Sadly, this doesn't tell you much about the show, other than it will be kinda trippy, but the theme song is pretty great, if nothing else. (Note: original video was removed, but I located another which is essentially identical).

I should also note that I have never seen an episode of DOCTOR WHO. I've seen a minute or two here or there, and am enough of a geek that I understand the general concept of the show and recognize a good bit of its iconography, but, nope, not a single episode.  No Tom Baker. No David Tennant. Not even the adorable Billie Piper could get me to sit down and watch a Christopher Eccleston episode, nor has the lovely, crimson-tressed Karen Gillan convinced me to partake in the Matt Smith iteration of the character.

It's not that I think I'll dislike the show.  I'm fairly certain I'd enjoy it. But, simply put, when I start something, I prefer to start AT THE BEGINNING. And, in this case, that would require watching dozens and dozens of shows that started airing in 1963.  It lasted 26 years before it was cancelled. There was a failed new version in 1996 intended as a pilot for US television and it was officially brought back in a seemingly new-viewer-friendly form in 2005.  But I'm sure they utilize call-backs and easter eggs aplenty to the original run of the show, otherwise why call it DOCTOR WHO?  If you want to make something newish, then put some contemporary window dressing on it, wipe the slate clean and call it PROFESSOR WHY.

So I'll not be watching DOCTOR WHO for the moment, and I'm actually OK with that.  It's one bit of popcult mythology I've never been compelled to open up and play with.  I actually think it's pretty great that a variety of writers and producers have collaborated over the years to build a lasting sci-fi vehicle that thousands of people have embraced so fully, and the collaborative building or controlled open-sourcing of a specific mythology over decades is not unlike another medium I love, comic books.  It's not like Spider-Man or Batman have had a lone auteur voice guiding them since their inception.

Everything doesn't have to be friendly to people just discovering it.  Most corporate comic books "reboot" or "relaunch" themselves every few years, and DC Comics is about to do it again, but in my opinion that disrespects the work which has come before. If I ever decide to open my brain to DOCTOR WHO, it will be with a respect to what existed before I showed up. And hopefully it will begin with what came before.