Battlestar Galactica - 'Exodus: Part I' (3x03)

Another stellar hour of a show that's really raised its game with the third season. I feel like everyone, both viewers and the show's creators, was a bit underwhelmed by the second half of season two. I know I was pretty disappointed, and was starting to drift away from the series until the fantastic 1-2-3 punch of Downloaded and the season finale. And they just haven't let up after that, going into more complex, challenging stories with each episode.

While I generally loved the episode, I groaned a bit when 'One Hour Earlier' appeared on the screen. I think this device is usually a mistake. Countless episodes of Alias would use this flashback structure and it just isn't that interesting. In the case of this episode, it feels like we just had to track back to justify Roslin and Zarek not dying in the cliffhanger. Now, this isn't as egregious a trackback as something like The X-Files' 'Redux I,' but still, I think it would have been more effective to just start with the Chief hearing that Callie was with the people to be killed and then going from there.

It was pretty obvious that Roslin would survive, but I feel like setting up such a bold cliffhanger and then not paying it off with anything particularly interesting is a copout. I can't remember a major character ever dying on the show, and if you want to keep stakes high, occasionally someone has to go. Part of the reason that 24 is so legitimately tense is because anyone is expendable, they take it a bit far, but it's a lesson to learn.

I just want to remark on how fantastic the cinematography in the series is. The color correction they use gives each scene a really unique palette, be it the cold blue of the settlement or the slight brown of the woods. The vision scene was particularly standout. I love the way contrast is used to make the light look completely white, and the handheld camera work always brings our attention to the most important events in the scene. The use of zooms is also very cool, enhancing the feeling of reality. This is probably the best shot series ever on TV.

The piece of this episode that I loved most is Sharon's work with the resistance. She's someone who has totally redefined herself, abandoning the cylons, her people, for love and belief in the values that Adama is espousing. She is actively subverting her own people by helping to move the humans off New Caprica, and is doing so willingly. She has come to believe fully in the principles of Adama's leadership. And that's what makes the scene in the cylon headquarters so wrenching.

First off, I love the production design inside the cylon complex, the quick flashing lights of the data console and the stark white of the filing room. This scene shows that the cylons do have machine elements, they seem to have a kind of symbiosis with their machinery. It's so tough to watch Sharon walk the street and be heckled and assaulted, her outside appearance in total contrast to what she's actually there for.

And then it becomes even more brutal when she's confronted by D'Anna, with the news that Hera's alive. We're supporting Sharon in her work with humanity, the gradual development of her relationship with Adama was the strongest element of season 2.5, and their scenes together last week showed a deep understanding. But, at the same time, we're aware that they fucked her. There's no other way to describe it, Adama and Roslin completely screwed Sharon, and she would be totally justified in screwing them back. They lied to her and Helo, and took away the thing that mattered most to them in the world. There's no way to apologize for that. Watching the scene, Sharon seems to know, on some level, that D'Anna is right. She never exactly trusted their story about Hera, but by being immersed in human culture for so long, she's just come to accept her role and value what they give her. So, she chooses to finish her mission, but at the end of the episode, we can tell how pained Sharon is.

That scene is easily the highlight of the episode and draws you in so many different directions as a viewer. I was relieved when Sharon shot her, but I was also left dreading the inevitable moment when she finds out that they've been lying to her. When it happens, I think she may secretly resume working with the cylons, serving as a mole within the human fleet. The scene really plays up the moral ambiguity of the situation, making it difficult to sympathize with anyone but Sharon herself. Grace Park is really fantastic, making Sharon easily my favorite character on the series.

Earlier in the episode, D'Anna's visit to the oracle reveals more of her human side. The moment I love is when the oracle is talking about the child, how one day D'Anna will hold it and experience true love, and we see that D'Anna's crying. There's no attention drawn to the tear on her cheek, and the subtlety of the moment is what gives it meaning. Now, she seeks Hera not so much for the overall cylon plan, but to experience the emotion that both Sharon and Caprica Six have had, but the other cylons lack.

Another great moment in the episode is the scene with Baltar and Six. Here we see just how put upon Baltar's been over the past four months. You can see it physically, and just in the way he behaves compared to the way things used to be. He has absolutely no agency, and guilt over what he did is starting to drag him down. I would like more investigation into his relationship with Six and how they're managing to function personally within this totally divided world.

The cylon leadership is again equated with the floundering American leadership in Iraq. They don't have the resources to take greater control of the area, and the war is a huge strain on their internal dynamics. I like the way Caprica Six is equated with Baltar, in her lack of agency within the group. She started this as a way to save the humans, but has been overruled by the more militant elements of cylon civilization. That scene also raises the issue of the download process, and how it's gradually wearing down the cylon personnel.

These first three episodes have a very Star Wars feel. The show's always felt similar to the trilogy for me, but here we get the most concrete sense of a rebel alliance fighting back a big empire. I may not talk about it much on here, most of the stuff I enjoy today doesn't have much in common with Star Wars, but what those films do is create a story so epic, so deeply mythic that it drags you beyond your complacency wholly into another world. This show is increasingly doing this, and there are moments that hit the same emotions as the strained desperation of Empire Strikes Back. I'm thinking particularly of the scene on the hangar deck, which had a real powerful sense that something important was about to happen. Other scenes with the resistance down on the surface also manage that same quality.

I guess the thing I love about Star Wars, and this season, is the way that it tracks these personal conflicts that have universal consequences. There's so much scope to the story, but it's still got characters who feel real, who you can relate to. I think that's what similar stories set in history lack, they're so bound by the need to be 'real' as in true to the period that they lose the sense of universal human reality. Watching these episodes, and the series in general, we see what would happen if our whole society was thrown into chaos, and that's more interesting than seeing the same old story about teenage boys sent off to fight in a foreign land.

Some other great moments include Tigh snapping at his wife at the end, Sharon's final words to the chief and Zarek and Roslin's conversation in the pit. This was an episode where I was not happy to see the Executive Producer credit. So far, this season has been absolutely on fire, challenging the viewer and forcing you to question your emotional allegiances. Rarely have I seen such fantastic storytelling, and I really hope that they keep it up for the rest of the season.

Weekend Update

More Inland

Many page views this week for people checking out the Inland Empire reviews. It's cool to see the film before a lot is written about it, I'm not sure how much my thoughts will resemble the critical consesus that eventually develops, but for me, they felt right on this viewing. The film that it most reminds me of, besides Lynch's own stuff, is Mike Figgis' Hotel. Both are shot on DV and explore the line between cinema and reality. I think Inland's much better than Hotel, but if you liked it, definitely give Hotel a look. And for the curious, here's my ranking of all Lynch's films:

Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me
Mulholland Dr.
Lost Highway
Inland Empire
Blue Velvet
Eraserhead
Dune
Wild at Heart
The Straight Story
The Elephant Man

Patti Smith

I've been listening to a lot of Patti Smith stuff to preprare for Sunday's show at CBGB's. I feel a bit bad taking a ticket since I'm not a huge fan, and don't have any particular connection to the club. However, I'm liking her stuff more and more, and I'm imagining she'll give it her all for the final show. I'm figuring it'll be at least a two hour set, probably closer to three. My favorite stuff is definitely her 70s work, Horses, Easter and Wave. But, I enjoyed 1997's Peace and Noise as well. I'm not sure where she draws most of her stuff from live, but I'd guess that she'll probably be playing more classics than she would at an average show.

Veronica Mars - 'My Big Fat Greek Rush Week' (3x02)

Mini review for the episode this week. I still find the Keith plot rather convoluted, and the difficulty of figuring out what's going on numbs any emotional impact. The problem is the Fitzpatricks were always treated as one entity, and it's difficult to follow a story that involves them doing seperate things. Veronica's plot was pretty fun, a bit of an Alias Jr. feel, and the show once again questions her moral authority. She sees the world in black and white, and that winds up causing problems when she realizes the sorority isn't all bad. I think a major arc should be really breaking Veronica down, and forcing her to confront the way she lives her life. But, the show doesn't seem to have any interest in exploring that, it comes up occasionally, but is never really developed. Also, I thought they outlawed prison experiments, but that was a pretty fun storyline. It was cool to see not only Samm Levine of Freaks and Geeks, but also Rider Strong of Boy Meets World. He was pretty good, and I could see him as a potential recurring.

I would say the episode was stronger than the first week, but there's still an issue with the fact that the show generally has a pretty light tone, but it's got to deal with this ongoing rape storyline, something you can't really quip about. More than that, I found it odd that Veronica felt so guilty about not checking in with Parker, considering there were no cries for help, what was she supposed to do, turn on the light and say "Everything going okay here?" I suppose it's more just general guilt, but still.

Studio 60 - 'The West Coast Delay' (1x04)

This was a pretty good episode, bringing back a lot of memories of Sportsnight. However, this show just embaresses Sportsnight in terms of visual scope, so I don't mind retreading stuff. I found it odd that Lucy Davis, who played Dawn in the original The Office is playing a character in the writers' room. There's nothing weird about her being on the show, but just the fact that she's such a minor character, and I hadn't heard anything about it at all. I'm hoping she'll get more material later, she's too talented an actress to waste in a really minor position.

Upcoming Dates of Note

10/14 - Marie Antoinette at NYFF
10/15 - Patti Smith at CBGB's
10/25 - Seven Soldiers #1 Released
10/27 - Babel Released
11/22 - The Fountain Released

From Hell - Chapters 5-7

Chapter five opens with a scene that at first mystified me, a German couple having sex, which is interrupted by visions of a Jewish temple gushing blood. The dialogue's all in German, so I was just going to move on, confounded. But, then I remembered the annotations and flipped back to find out that this scene depicts Hitler's conception! Knowing this makes the scene a great addition. The whole work is about how Gull ushers in the twentieth century, so featuring the conception of one of that century's key figures is a good thematic element. One of the things that makes me love the work so much is the fact that it's not just about a series of murders, it's about chronicling a specific turning point in the history of human society.

From there, we got to an effective, if slightly obvious, contrasting of Gull's upper class life with the difficult situations for the poor. One thing the work consistently does is make clear how difficult it is for poorer people living in Whitechapel. All these women are murdered because they couldn't make enough money to pay for lodging, so they wound up on the street alone, late at night. The tragic irony of the scenes where Gull meets them in the coach is that they think they've just hit the jackpot, found a wealthy client who can give them food and protection. That is not the case.

The murder of Polly Nichols is a masterfully executed sequence. The bottom of page 5.23 where Polly walks across a sea of fire is an incredible image, leading into the tense scene with Polly in Gull's coach. In both this scene and the later scene with Anne, Gull equates the act of murder with marriage. According to him, the institution of marriage has been warped into a way for men to keep women down, the patriarchal rule replacing their previous dominance of social worlds. This makes literal the idea that marriage is killing women.

I like the way that Gull positions Polly as a sacrifice to Ganesa. He believes that his duty to murder these women is a god-given one, the essential act to close out an age. After cutting her up, Gull declares "She was full of light." This could refer to her life, her creative essence that he has now snuffed out. Gull is continually caught between his left brain scientific patriarchal side and his fascination with the older gods.

From here, we move in to an exploration of the way that the killing affects the world of Whitechapel. It creates an instant mania among the people, and is a level of brutality that the police force seems totally incapable of dealing with. They are old, upper class people who have no way of relating to the world these women come from. Abberline is someone who's trying to leave that world behind, but finds his only chance for advacement comes from exploiting his origins and serving as a "Whitechapel expert" for the people in the case.

Class issues are clearly a major concern. There were the overt juxtapositions of chapter five, and here, we see Abberline comparing the life of Whitechapel to the staid upper class world he now inhabits. His talks with Emma have a vitality that he doesn't have in the relationship with his wife.

Much of the work is concerned with showing the seeds of our current world, and that's where the media stuff comes in. Abberline's meeting with Mexico Joe provides some foreshadowing about the rise of Russia and America, and gives Moore a chance to give another nod to Crowley, one of his idols. America's style of adventurous individualism has come to England in the form of a Wild West show, and it will soon come in more deeply influential ways. As he wanders out, Abberline finds that the crime scene has become an amusement for people, the killing a commodified event turned into entertainment. People reenact the murder for their own entertainment, unaware of the actual harm that's been done. Here lie the roots of our current scandal obsessed media culture, which turns real life tragedy into entertainment for the masses. Polly's funeral turns into a spectacle for people to watch and enjoy.

Later, we see the O Star editor realize that the killer himself is beside the point, it's the media image of the killer that matters. So, he creates 'Jack the Ripper,' and in the letter he sends to the police, he casts a spell that makes what he wrote about into reality for the populace as a whole. He does as much to create Jack the Ripper as Gull did. Gull claimed that the irrational, female side is in decline, but the fact that this Jack the Ripper character becomes so powerful, despite not existing like they think he did, would indicate that he functions as a representative of the old gods. Jack is a god who incarnates the deepest fears of all these women, the fact that he actually exists is nearly irrelevant to that. And that may be Gull's greatest fear, the idea that what he actually does is less significant than the legend built up around 'Jack the Ripper,' a figure whose power greatly outweighs his own.

Creating a 'god' could be interpreted as simply creating a fictional being who begins to effect reality. So, Bob Kane loosed Batman onto the world, a figure whose power greatly outweighs his own, and has lived on long after his creator's death. Gull has done the same for Jack the Ripper, creating a figure who casts a shadow deep in the twentieth century. I think that's the significance of Gull's visions of the future, which begin during the killing of Anne. He is looking at the world that his actions will ultimately bring about, a world where reality is malleable by leaders who can control the media.

The murder scene is once again deeply powerful, and the final moments show the Jack the Ripper figure beginning to assert his power. At this point, Gull has lost control, his actions have begun to inspire others to worship this deity he has conjured. Gull himself may be a left brained patriarchal man, seeking to preserve traditional societal order, but the deity he has conjured is inspiring irrational fear. Science is rendering the old gods obsolete, but in Jack he creates a new incarnation of those old figures. People do not believe in Jack as a god, but that doesn't matter. He still exerts the same fear that the old gods did, he creates an archetypal figure, the serial killer, who will exert fear far beyond the man's lifetime.

Heroes - 'One Giant Leap' (1x03)

This show continues to impress with another strong hour. Three episodes in, we seem to have all the major players set, and their seperate plot strands are gradually moving together. I get the sense that this show will be different from your usual series in that there's not going to be a set status quo. At this point, all the characters are seperate, but if they meet up, which seems like it'll happen fairly quickly, possibly by the November nuclear event or at least by the end of the first season, and once they're together the show will have to radically alter its structure and provide a more concerete objective for the heroes.

As I've mentioned before, this reminds me of Carnivale. That was a show with a split structure that slowly brought its characters together. Carnivale made a big point of its slow pace, which became frustrating by the middle of the second season. That's why it bothers me to see people complain that the plot here is moving too slow, it's in the third episode! We have to understand the characters in their own context or their meeting won't have much meaning. Carnivale never got a third season, so it's unclear how the show would have proceeded from the meeting of all the characters at the end of the second season. Supposedly, there would be a leap forward in time, an idea that would be interesting for this series to do. After a couple of seasons, they could jump forward to a world where more people are super powered and it's gradually restructuring society.

I was glad to see that the show got a full season pick up, and is getting generally good ratings. This show has so much potential, I hope the creators get to tell the whole story they have in mind. I haven't read much on the behind the scenes aspects, but I do hope that they have a definitive ending in mind, and are willing to cut off the show when they reach that point.

The issue with this split story format is that some are better than others. Niki's stuff is still weak and Nathan doesn't have much going on. However, the rest are all interesting. And, even in the lesser storylines we still get the occasional fantastic moment, like the cut from Peter and Simone kissing to the artist looking at the drawing of the two of them, a really well done visual and emotional moment.

Hiro is still the highlight and I love the dynamic with him and his friend. The setpiece with him saving the girl was really well done. Also, the idea that they're following this comic from the future as a guideline for how to live in the present is fantastic, very Morrison. It's also a great metaphor for the idea that these people have a special destiny. For him, it was literally written, and how he will deal with his powers now that he's reached the end of the book.

Greg Grunberg's Matt also has some good stuff. I like the lack of sensationalism about his powers, it's just something that he's developed. The scene where Sylar forces Clea Duvall to almost shoot herself was fantastic. I do hope that Clea sticks around, since she's a great actress and will perhaps justify my endless comparison of the show to Carnivale.

Claire is the other standout character so far. It's a bit contrived that she continually suffers mortal injuries, but my fanwank is that her bones are more malleable due to the healing process, so this spike might go through her head whereas it would only bump a normal person. The rape attempt was pretty intense, though, as with Veronica Mars, I take issue with using rape as a way to raise the stakes in the story. Though, it fits better with this show's tone than with Veronica's. And that final scene with her was great.

So, the show continues to roll along. Other than Battlestar, this is the show I'm most interested in right now. It's surprising that a network would commission a show like this, and it's great that it's been so successful. But that's a great example of how TV has changed, we're in the medium's golden age right now.

Gilmore Girls - 'Lorelai's First Cotillion' (7x03)

This episode was the best of the season so far. I think Rosenthal's writing team is getting more accustomed to the characters' voices and is less self conscious about trying to squeeze in a setpiece that feels like classic Gilmore. However, it's not got the tightly focused character trials of the past two seasons, instead the characters seem more subject to the needs of the plot. That's the major difference between a soap opera and a drama, a drama takes it plots organically from the characters' issues, while a soap chooses instead to manipulate its characters into sensational plots.

The episode's basic thesis, that Lorelai has lived her whole life based on rebelling against Richard and Emily is one of the critical themes of the series. It's been ridiculous at times that she is so concerned about what they think, but they're critical to the show, and the antagonism is necessary. However, it might be interesting to show her trying to reconcile the two parts of her life and come to terms with her upbringing. A relationship with Christopher would be the fulfillment of her parents' ultimate wish, that she finally build a nuclear family for Rory.

Unlike a lot of people, I think a Lorelai/Christopher relationship is just as valid a direction for her as being with Luke. The show circa season five was presenting her narrative as one that led towards Luke. However, if you look back to season two, she was all set to get together with Christopher, it was only Sherri's pregnancy that disrupted it. That was one of the dramatic high points of the series, and I think it's still a largely unresolved issue.

Christopher has been messed around with a bit due to the needs of the plot. By allying him with Emily in season, he became an antagonist to Lorelai, however, his general arc over the series has been an acceptance of responsibility and commitment. I'm a big fan of Luke, but I do think that last season's events provided Lorelai with sufficient motivation to move on from him. Plus, from a dramatic point of view, this storyline has a lot of potential.

The structure of this season has been designed to put Lorelai in more comedic situations, as opposed to last year where she went through her extended depressed period. So, we get the story of the cotillion along with the dramatic stuff that closes the episode. On the one hand, this lets the show maintain a tone closer to its earlier years, however, I think it undermines Lorelai's arc by denying her a consistency of mood. The cotillion was meant to show Lorelai that doing what her parents want her to do isn't all bad, leading her to call Christopher at the end of the episode.

This episode benefitted from the fact that the best supporting characters, the elder Gilmore and Lane's crew, were featured. Lane's stuff was entertaining, but I still think the arc is really misguided. From a practical standpoint, it makes no sense for them to go through with having this kid if they both really don't want to. That they don't even bring up the alternative is a bit weird, though I suppose that wouldn't fit with the show's tone. That's why the whole storyline was misguided. But, I do like Lane and Rory having scenes together again, they barely saw each other for all of season six.

So, it was a pretty strong episode, however I think the show has a major problem, and that's the lack of a guiding vision. Without the Palladinos, it's difficult to accept these character arcs as the characters' actual direction. I don't know where they would have taken Lorelai, but I feel like it would have been a more organic, subtle development than what's going on here. However, this was the best episode of the season, and hopefully this trend of increasing quality will continue.

Inland Empire - No Spoilers

If I know I'm going to see a movie, I hate hearing plot details in advance. So, I'll start off with a completely spoiler free recounting of my opinion on the film. Then I'll do a seperate post with in depth analysis, and try to unpack what the film is doing. Contrary to what some reviewers might tell you, there is a logic to this film, and out of the many disparate parts, there's enough for every viewer to make a structure that works for them.

I loved the film. After seeing it, I was energized and happy that something so unique and powerful was brought into the world. However, that's not to say that the film is perfect. The first hour or so is problematic for a number of reasons. One is the pacing, there's a lot of fat still on the film, I think you could easily lose ten minutes of the first hour without a problem. Once you get to a certain transition point, everything picks up and the film flows amazingly for the final two hours. The film is very fragmented, but that means that Lynch gets to indulge in moments of pure visual cinema. There's a lot of recurriing images and motifs from his previous stuff, but it's played in such a way that it's still fresh. And, particularly towards the end, there's a series of sublime moments to rival Club Silencio or Laura and Cooper in the red room.

One of the big issues surrounding the film is Lynch's use of digital video. It doesn't look like film, and I don't think he's trying to make it look like film. The film's first chunk will have the haters feeling validated, since there's some pretty ugly stuff that's also poorly composed. These shots wouldn't look good on film and I'm not sure what he was thinking with them. The wider shots don't play as well in DV, but closeups are gorgeous and a lot of the night photography has a grit and authenticity that you couldn't get with the massive lights needed for night film shoots. After a shaky start, things settle down, and it looks much better as the film goes on. In the moments where the film succeeds, the aesthetic supports its thematic intentions, when things aren't working so well, you're more aware of the issues. I feel like this is a film that will look better on DVD, because the PD-150 just isn't meant to be blown up to theatrical size. But, as I said, the majority of stuff looks pretty good, and some is absoultely fantastic, rivaling the best images Lynch has ever produced.

On the whole, my reaction to the film is similar to how I felt about Revenge of the Sith. In both cases, we've got directors who are serving their personal vision and producing a film that has an ambition and power that's nearly unparalleled. However, they both also stumble on some basic things, making the films an easy target for criticism. I'm sure many people will be saying the film makes no sense, is way too long and looks like shit. And, to an extent, all these criticisms are true. But, I think the moments of wonder far outweigh these flaws, and in the final assessment, this film is a totally unique, extremely powerful vision, that pushes Lynch's trademark themes and emotional concerns further than they've ever gone before, creating a film that's unlike anything else I've ever seen, or heard. The sound design in this thing was imposing and powerful.

After the screening, we were pointed to the balcony where Lynch, Laura Dern and Justin Theroux were sitting, positioned much like the blue haired lady from the end of Mulholland Dr. I didn't realize they'd all be there, so it was a nice bonus. In the Q&A Lynch talked a lot about the digital process. The film was shot over a period of three years, developing the script as they went along. He started out using the PD-150 like a toy, but gradually saw the beauty of the images and decided to shoot a film on digital. He stuck with the 150 because that was what first attracted him to digital, though I'm guessing he'll use a higher end camera on the next project. For that next project, he said he wants to use a script.

When asked whether the film has a concrete explanation/linear narrative, as Mulholland Dr. did, Lynch said "Yes." Lynch has talked about how he had a specific vision of what Lost Highway meant, but it differed from co-writer Barry Gifford. However, he has no desire to talk about his own interpretations of the work, because the real joy is in relating to the film on your own terms.

The questions were all pretty interesting, and thankfully no one asked him for an explanation of everything. The audience seemed pretty into the film, though there were a couple of walkouts. However, I got the sense it was mostly Lynch faithful there. I feel like this movie won't play with most people in a general audience, it's too demanding and idiosyncratic. It certainly won't have the success of Mullholand Dr.

After the Q&A, Lynch hung out and signed stuff and answered more questions. I asked him about the Twin Peaks season two DVDs, and he said that the 5.1 mix is done and they're sounding great. And they should be coming soon. Same for the Fire Walk With Me deleted scenes, which he said were coming. I hadn't heard of any progress on this front, but maybe there was an arrangement with the producers of the show DVDs. At least there's still hope. Lost Highway has been color timed and is ready for DVD release, but there's no progress on actually gettiing it released. Lynch was great, ignoring a staffer's request that he get going, he continued to sign stuff for a long time after. This was a huge contrast to the last time I saw him, during his maharishi promo tour. I got my program signed, and also asked him another question about the film's closing credits, which are different from his previous, but I don't want to spoil that. He also said that the film will probably be coming out in November or December, and considering today's announcement that he's distributing the film himself, he'd be the one to know.

If ever there was a film to disribute oneself, this'd be it. It's a very difficult film and isn't likely to make a lot of money. But, it deserves to find an audience, and hopefully Lynch will get it out to a lot of people. I know I would love to watch the film again, as soon as possible. There's so much in there, and I think it'll be debated as fiercely as Mulholland Dr. was.

Inland Empire - Spoilers

If you haven't seen the film, I'd reccomend going in cold. Read as little as possible. But, if you have, or if you just don't care, read on for what will be the deepest analysis of this film yet to be done! Or at least deeper than any of the other stuff I've read on the web so far. It's a bit rambling, this is my raw reaction to the film.

A couple of weeks ago I saw The Science of Sleep, a film that feels like a more abstract remake of Michel Gondry's own Eternal Sunshine. It forsakes the polished, Hollywood look of Eternal in favor of a grittier, more abstract narrative that's harder to follow, but rewarding in its own way. Inland Empire does the same thing for Mulholland Dr., at times it feels surprisingly redundant of what Mulholland did, but there's so much other stuff going on, it becomes a unique entity all its own. I would not have thought that you could create a film that would make Mulholland Dr. look tame and mainstream, but that's what this does, the sheer force of its abstract, emotion driven narrative leaves the highly structured dual worlds of previous Lynch films in the past.

The opening sequence is astonishing, drawing you into the film primarily through the booming bass of the ambiient soundtrack. I love the reveal of the massive title, as well as the recurring image of the needle on the record player, a throwback to Twin Peaks. There are so many throwbacks to previous Lynch films here, it can become almost a where's Waldo search, but at this point, I consider Lynch's films to take place in a shared narrative universe. So, much like you can't fault Tim Burton for making another film about a pale outsider protagonist in a world filled with striped black and white, Lynch owns the domain of red curtains, heavy blue lighting, strobes and fragmened women.

From there we jump to a brutal near rape of a Polish prostitute, which leads into scenes from Rabbits. This part of the film is quite good, the abstraction of the faces in the opening scene likely a comment on the mutability of identity, a critical theme in all of Lynch's work. The image of the woman crying as she watches TV is very loaded, and also classic Lynch. In FWWM and Mulholland Dr., the protagonists cry while watching a live performance. Here, the woman cries while watching a TV image, a comment on the use of digital photography? That's possible, but I think it's more designed to tie in with the idea of film as dream.

The way I saw the film's structure is as follows: This woman, who watches the film, was the star of the previous version of the Blue Tomorrows film. In the film, there is a thin line between acting and reality, so her life seemingly merged with that of the character. She observes Laura Dern, a woman who is a fantasy version of herself. So, Nikki/Sue is a composite figure built from the real life of this brutalized Polish prostitute and the imagined life of Nikki, American movie star. However, unlike Mulholland Dr., I would hesitate to assign a simple real/imaginary dichotomy to any of this, there's a kind of symbiosis between the two characters, just as the Polish woman is seen watching/imaginging Laura Dern, Nikki's immersion in the role seems to have to put her in touch with the spirit of the woman who acted in the film before her. The two are symbiotic, and it's in their meeting that the narrative world exists.

So, like Mulholland Dr. the film begins in a kind of fantasy world. Here, Nikki is a successful actress, about to return to the top. The scene with Grace Zabriskie, much as I love her, is the weakest in the film. It's meant to be slow, but it winds up taking forever, with not enough content. I see Grace as someone in the tradition of Philip Gerard, The Cowboy and particularly Louise Bonner from Mulholland Dr., a person with access to higher dimensional powers and a picture of the overall shape of the world. I wish there was a transcript of this movie somewhere, because I'm sure what she says ties in thematically with what went on after, but I can't remember it well enough to analyze it. However, she does cause a shift in perception for Nikki, throwing her into the future through the shift to the other couch.

This leads us to the glory/hollowness of fame sequence, where we observe Nikki and Devon going through the basic rituals of being a star. Notable things here are the hyper-masculineness of Devon and his crew, as well as the difference between Nikki's friends here and the gang of women that crops up around her later in the film. One of Lynch's main preoccupations, in both this film and Mulholland Dr., is the way that Hollywood destroys the dreams and lives of young women who go there seek stardom. But this is her time at the top, where she finds only hollowness and facade. I was surprised to see William H. Macy make an appearance in the film, seemingly reprising his 30s radio announcer character from Seabiscuit.

This whole opening chunk is, for me, the weak part of the film. I've read reviews, mostly the negative ones, that say the film goes off the tracks after the first hour, and that shows that the first hour is the most narrative driven. It's not totally conventional, but things go ahead pretty much linearly, stopping occasionally to play with distinctions between film and reality, as in the veranda conversation between Billy and Sue.

The most important notion for the rest of the film is the idea that the movie they're engaged in is the remake of a Polish film. As we proceed, we see Nikki getting lost in the role, and gradually becoming unable to distinguish the fiction from the reality. However, this is not an original reality, she is going down a path that has previously killed someone. The scene where she says "Our lives are just like the script" is really effective and gives you a sense of her loss of perspective.

I'd place this film into a loose trilogy with Fire Walk With Me and Mulholland Dr., all films that deal with women under extreme stress who experience degrees of psychosis and dissolving identity. Inland Empire only confirms FWWM as the major turning point of Lynch's career. Before that, all his films featured male protagonists and fairly straightforward narrative structures. Even Eraserhead is fairly straightforward story wise, if difficult to decipher due to the heavy symbolism involved. But, from FWWM on, we've gotten an increasingly subjective view of reality, with fractured scenes and moments depicting the characters' psyches rather than the real world they inhabit.

Laura Dern has a look that's very similar to Naomi Watts in Mulholland Dr., in a few shots they're virtually indistinguishable. He loves deep red lipstick, blue eyeshadow and clearly defined eyelashes. Lynch's 'good' females are almost always blondes. This film doesn't explicitly engage with the blonde/brunette dichotomy he's so fond of, except for the Asian woman's speech about her friend who wears a blonde wig and looks like a movie star in it. Here, the idea of movie star is a persona you can put on and pretend to be, but, it's all an illusion.

Things proceed in a fairly straightforward manner until Devon and Nikki have sex. The lighting in this scene, the really heavy blue, recalls Club Silencio from Mulholland Dr. In Lynch's films, strobing blue light marks the transition between realities, and this scene is a great application of that. It's one of the most striking scenes in the film, and is another moment where a character says that they're going to be some place in the future, then all of a sudden they are there. In this film, there's no distinction between thought and reality, characters move through space and time like a person moves through his/her memories, fragments of everything hanging together, cropping up in the most unlikely places.

Nikki, now known as Sue, is first seen passing through the door on the film set. This indicates that she now exists in a fictional realm. The way the rest of the film plays, this entire episode could stem from Nikki's imagination, or, Nikki could be an invention of Sue. The film seems to be a recurring event within reality, something that entraps its actors into a cycle of destruction as the line between actor and character becomes indistinct.

I hesitate to approach this film in the same way as Mulholland Dr. or even Lost Highway, where you come up with a basic explanation, then sculpt to fit what happens in the film. Here, there's so many layers of reality in play, I feel it's better to follow emotional logic. I'm sure you could come up with a valid explanation for the events, but I don't think one is required. I didn't feel a need to "solve the puzzle" at the end of the movie, which is what Mulholland prompts in a lot of people. After seeing MD, I wanted to find an answer, but, either I've grown or the film is different, and now I'm happy to just accept what happened on its own terms. That's not to say it shouldn't be analyzed, rather analysis can't be based around trying to fit everything into a set framework.

Anyway, at first the new setting is a challenge, but gradually enough is revealed that you can piece it into a decent narrative. Sue's monologue to the mysterious guy is near the end of things. She begins as part of a family with a husband and son. However, her son dies and her husband becomes abusive, then eventually leaves to go off with some Polish circus buddies. I think the Polish elements are designed to show the bleed between the Polish woman and Sue/Nikki, this whole world is a reality shared between the two of them.

Though the world of Sue also reflects Nikki's. She's got a jealous husband, who is apparently jealous for a reason. We don't know enough about the movie that they're filming to understand what's drawn from the film and what's drawn from life. Sue seems to be a 'real' person, while Billy remains his fictional self.

I recognized the trailer where Sue lives from the 'Room to Dream' DVD, which also features a scene that didn't make it into Inland Empire, where some of the girls sing a song in a Lynchian way. The scene wasn't very good, so I'm glad it didn't make the cut.

During this time, Sue spends a lot of time wandering around in her apartment, which bleeds into a backstage area. I love these wandering scenes, I think they're very Lynch, and some of the strobe effects he uses are really intense. A lot of films use similar techniques to make you jump, but here I was scared on a deeper level. Some of the images he uses hit deep and frighten you on some kind of subconscious level.

While wandering, Sue encounters new friends, to replace Nikki's stylish twosome. Now, she's got a posse of Polish prostitutes. In most of these scenes, she's placed at a distance, likely seeing in them a reflection of herself, as things go worse, this is what she's headed towards. The girls talk about "tits and ass," reemphasizing the idea that Hollywood values women based solely on their physical qualities. Of course Lynch has one of them raise her shirt for no particular reason so that the others can comment on her breasts. Hey, it's his perogative. I do like how these girls didn't look like typical Hollywood people, you could really believe that they would be turning tricks out on the street.

From there, there's a startling jump cut to...a performance of the Locomotion! I was not expecting that, but it's one of the most fun moments in the film. There's a ton of heavy sound design, but I would have liked a bit more score. The moments where music is used are great, Lynch remains a master of creating a mood via song.

Sue is getting more frazzled, leading up to her journey to the Axxon club. This is another quintessentially Lynch scene, and I would have actually liked to spend a bit more time there. However, she passes through the curtains and up to deliver her monologue upstairs. Throughout the film, Laura Dern is phenomenal. She has to work such intense emotional territory, without a clear picture of her character of the film in general. But, it works and she equals Naomi Watts' stunning work in Mulholland Dr. The monologue is particularly notable, really brutal stuff.

As the film progresses, we get a recurring motif of phone calls or incidents that are shown from one side first, then shown again from a different perspective. Sue's appearance on the stage is a great example of this, as well as the various interactions with the Rabbitsverse. It's really effective in creating a sense of unity to this intimidatingly large work.

The part of the film that represents the biggest growth for Lynch is Sue's collapse on the streets. He does a great job of making the L.A. streets into an alien dimension, populated by burnt out, broken people. Sue throwing up blood on to the Star may be a bit obvious, but it's a very effective image nonetheless. This leads to the fantastic monologue about Niko, the prostitute with a hole in her vaginal wall. I didn't think the subtitles were necessary here, but the fact that Lynch put them on indicates that what she says is absolutely critical to the film. Niko's story is the ultimate Holllywood dejection tale, she falls to the status of hooker, is abused some more, and ultimately loses that which is essentially female. Yet, when she puts on a blond wig, she can still pretend she's a star. And I love the way her companion punctures the drama by saying "Who wants to hear about this shit?"

This segment makes literal what was symbolic in Mulholland Dr., Diane's fear that she would become a bum on the street. Here, Sue reaches that bottom, all her promise used up and her life exhausted. It's a very powerful scene, and I felt a bit cheated when we pulled back to reveal it as a staged occurence. It's odd to puncture such a sincere emotional moment in that way.

The last chunk of the film continues to play with perception and layers of reality. Sue wanders into a movie theater showing herself on the screen, recalling her previous line about watching her own life like it's in a theater where the lights went down. This also connects her with the Polish woman. The end of the film is backed by an ethereal vocal track, bringing back the feel of the final scene of FWWM. Sue and the Polish woman finally meet, and in that moment the Polish woman sees her reality on the screen. She kisses Sue, who then fades away.

I don't see this as sexual at all, it's more an expression of love and sympathy. For the Polish woman, Sue/Nikki was a fantasy figure she was able to connect with through the act of watching the TV. However, once the reality she's watching becomes her own, she's able to reconcicle her issues and her fantasy is no longer required. I'd have to see it again to see exactly how things play out, but the impression I got was that the Sue storyline was a manifestation of her fears, her worst nightmare of the life she could have. However, at the end she finds herself reunited with her husband and son, in a moment of happiness that recalls Dorothy at the end of Blue Velvet.

For Sue/Nikki, she looks to where her dark future began and sees a more innocent version of herself. The music and general emotion of the moment leads me to feel that she too has went through this nightmare and come out the other side able to see a purer version of herself. Both women experience a collective apocalypse and come out stronger on the other side. Rather than Mulholland Dr., where reality is the nightmare, here, it is the fantasy that houses darkness. This fantasy is embodied in the film, which killed both its leads. To act in this film is to go through total destruction of oneself, the film follows the two women to their lowest ebb, only to reveal that this is not what's real, their worlds are still intact, and the best of them is what survives.

So, thinking about it has led me to an explanation that feels right. In the film, we follow two actresses who signed on to appear in a film based on a cursed Polish folk tale. By acting in the film, they become absorbed into its world of darkness and lose the ability to separate the film from the reality. We see Nikki starting to succumb to this during the pre-blue change scenes. At the end, they make it through the darkness and we find that her 'death' on the street frees her from the spell of the film and frees her to go live her own life. When we next see her Nikki is wearing a blue dress, much like the one that Laura Dern wore in Blue Velvet, and it's meant to evoke angelic purity. Much like Laura Palmer, both of them go through all this awfulness and finds peace in the end.

Following this sublime ending, we get something a bit weird, a dance scene over the closing credits. This is usually reserved for comedy films, but it winds up working wonderfully here. I asked Lynch why he chose to include the scene, considering it so radically alters your mood leaving the theater, and he said "It just felt right." I'd agree, after all the film takes you through, it's nice to have a bit of fun. I like the idea that this party just all of a sudden rose up in the place where the film ended.

Plus, the scene is full of easter eggs for Lynch fans, throwbacks to his previous work. We pan over from the one legged woman to find Laura Haring just chilling. There's a monkey leaping around who looks exactly like the 'Judy' monkey from Fire Walk With Me, Laura Dern is wearing her Blue Velvet dress, and we've even got a guy sawing at a log, referencing both Twin Peaks and Industrial Symphony No. 1. This is all set to a rocking song, with all kinds of strobe going on. It's a whole lot of fun, and actually has some of the film's most dynamic visuals.

So, I think this was a thoroughly successful film. There's a few issues, but those could easily dissipate on the second viewing. Even though some scenes and themes were very close to Mulholland Dr., like the homeless thing, I feel like the looser visual and narrative styles made the old Lynch tropes feel fresh. I've called Mulholland a Lynch greatest hits album, taking pieces of everything he's done and combining them into one great film. Inland uses a lot of the same things, but feels fresh and exciting. It's pure Lynch, his ideas unfiltered by the need to script and structure, and that's the source of the film's greatest successes and its failures. But, I honestly don't think this film would work in a more traditional style, it would be too close to MD, the digital liberated Lynch to go as weird as he pleases, and it's exhilirating to watch.

Battlestar Galactica - 'Occupation/Precipice' (3x01 & 3x02)

Fuck, that was an amazing piece of art. Watching these episodes, I was thankful that something so powerful and challenging and well made exists. I really enjoyed the first two seasons of Galactica, but this is the first episode to recapture the feeling of total apocalyptic feeling crushing down around the characters in the way that was so shocking in the miniseries. It's full of devestating sadness and very powerful, charged images. Not since the glory days of The X-Files have I seen a series come out of the gate this strong.

The silent except for music, cutting between characters opening is a technique that's used during a lot of the series' more important episodes, most notably the first season finale. Here, we see fragments of the new world, brief glimpses of the characters in the reality that's been built in the gap between seasons. It's a world where everything's going wrong, the humans on New Caprica are oppressed, those on Galactica feel totally powerless and even the cylons are dissatisfied with their lack of success in molding the human population to their ideal. The flashes of light and dark are extremely evocative, putting us into the mood of the story before we even know what's going on in terms of the narrative.

Throughout the episode, the production is just phenomenal. I love the look here, the high contrast lighting and oppressive greenish tint. It's not at all pretty, and it's a bit uncomfortable to watch it, but it's critical in establishing the mood of the world. The music was also fantastic, building tension in a way that didn't stand out as emotionally manipulating. The heavy, almost tribal drums were very effective, particularly in the finale of Precipice, when Callie was running away from the firing squad.

Let me talk about that scene right now, because it encapsulates so much of what makes the episode totally unique and powerful. After watching Schindler's List, I wrote up a blog about the trouble making films about real events. Basically, when you make a film about the holocaust or 9/11, you're bringing so much cultural baggage that it's impossible to evaluate the story on its own merits. That's the beauty of genre, the ability to twist reality into a form that can be more objectively evaluated, and also make a more cutting commentary on the reality of events.

There's two primary metaphors at work here. One is playing this scenario as a stand in for the mess we're in Iraq. Basically, the cylons went in to try to bring their idea of freedom to these people, but wound up getting caught up in a cycle of violence that has thrown their mission awry. Some of the cylons are still idealistic, but most didn't have noble intentions from the start. That puts the heroes of our show in the position of the Iraqi insurgents, bombing US military troops and trying to retake their own messed up country. It's a bold statement, and the sort of thing you just couldn't get away with in a show actually set in Iraq. But the points are the same, and with this storyline the show has reannounced itself as the most politically relevant show on television.

The other key metaphor is to Vichy France. I wasn't thinking in those terms until the final sequence which plays up Nazi parallels in a really boldly deliberate way. Zarek and Laura are trucked off in a car, and you could clearly see some kind of tattoo on his wrists. Then they're all lined up in front of a ditch and the cylons open machine gun fire. This is an example of taking a culturally powerful image and using it to support the story rather than being the story in and of itself. I've always felt that war movies should be set in the future, because then you can show the horror of war without having to worry about the need to represent a specific historical reality. That's what this does, and it's the first piece of TV I've seen that has thrown the characters into such total chaos, a bleak reality with only a little bit of hope for the future.

One of the most interesting threads in the episode is Kara's imprisonment. I love when she stabs Leoben, it's her fierceness that makes the character so interesting. On the one hand, I was a bit disappointed that just as I was reveling in the character's violent abandon, they bring in a kid to potentially soften her up. But, I think there's a lot of potential in that arc, and as long as they don't domesticate Kara, it should be cool. I think the final moment, of her holding Leoben's hand is incredibly creepy, and yet warm. This is a guy who's so desperate to feel love, he's waited four months just on the faith that eventually she will say that she loves him. The thing that makes the cylons work is their ambiguity, even though they imprison the humans, they're still desperately jealous of their capacity for feeling, their capacity for love. I'm a little unclear if Leoben is the father, it's never been established what's going on with the cylon equipment, but if they built this whole thing to make cylon/human hybrids, the possibility must exist.

Another really interesting thing was watching Caprica Six and Sharon's distaste for the way the cylon occupation has been run. They had noble intentions, which have been totally lost. I think keeping this element of the cylons is essential, if they're just generic evildoers, the story doesn't really work, but the if the cylons really are trying to help the humans, then there's a tasty level of ambiguity. Looking ahead, I feel like the two of them could eventually be the ones to help the human resistance and the cylons find a truce.

That leads me to the other Sharon. The scene with her and Adama was wonderful, you get the sense that Adama is totally exasperated with the people he's working with, sick of their incompetence and unprofessionalism, his son most of all. Sharon is the only one who understands him, and it's a great scene when he gives her the mission, placing his trust in her, a trust I feel is not at all unjustified. That was the highlight of the Galactica stuff, which was generally the weaker part of the episode. The one moment that felt false to me was the Adama/Lee heart to heart. Lee just never really worked as a character for me, though I do like his new smart aleck fat man persona.

Basically, the season finds everyone on the show pushed to the edge. Just on their faces you can see that there's not much left for them to give, the cylons are gradually wearing them down, be it Tigh, who has given up on moral principles and is going with a win now, worry later strategy. Baltar is totally powerless, retreating further into his own head, we've reached the point where characters consider suicide the only viable option. The bombing at the end of the first episode is really disturbing, and it was jarring to cut from the floating dust and bodies to an upbeat commercial. More than any show I've ever seen, this one feels like it needs a minute to ease you into the commercial.

Watching this episode was almost humbling for me, I felt like I wasn't worthy of seeing something so good on a weekly TV series, but this is just another example of the possibilities of television storytelling being radically altered. This is the most probing commentary I've seen on the Iraq war, and the war on terror in general, from any piece of fiction since 9/11 happened. It's not too soon for it, now is the time to ask why our country is being turned into a police state, with no moral concerns whatsoever. We are the cylon occupation government, and it's their folly that's created the chaos that is Iraq, that is New Caprica.

And in the midst of all this chaos, we have characters that I really care about. The intensity of the action has made the characters even more sympathetic and relatable. In the miniseries, there was the sense that everyone was in danger, and anything could happen. That wore away as the series went on and settled into a predictable pattern, but this season premiere destroys all existing patterns and returns the show to a world where there is no security for everyone. By making things so bleak, it makes the victories that much rewarding, and the danger for our characters really suspenseful. This episode had me fully engaged, and I can't wait to see where the series goes from here. This is the most successful reinvention of an existing series I've ever seen, and easily the series' best episode.

Weekend Update

Inland Empire

Tomorrow I'll be seeing David Lynch's new film, Inland Empire. The buzz out of Venice wasn't great, but the reviews I've seen from New York are a lot more promising. I've got a vague idea of what it's about, but I'm glad I haven't seen a trailer or a lot of pictures, it'll be a truly fresh experience without any prior expectations. I saw Mulholland Dr. in the summer of 2003, and since then I've seen everything else Lynch has ever done, so I can't really say I've been waiting for this as long as some other people, but it's still much anticipated. I'll be going in depth on the film tomorrow night.

Brothers and Sisters

I watched the first episode of this show, largely because it starred Rachel Griffiths. Her work as Brenda on Six Feet Under was some of the best acting I've ever seen. For me, she was indistinguishable from the character, and it was jarring to hear her speak in an Australian accent on the behind the scenes stuff. The weird thing about this show is that it's got the same premise and setup as Six Feet Under. A prodigal child, in this case Calista Flockhart stands in for Nate, returns to their family and the father dies, throwing the family business into chaos. The pilot was alright, but the similarities to SFU only made it even more clear how lacking this show was next to Six Feet. After only one episode, I felt like I had a clear picture of who the Six Feet Under characters were, and I was eager to learn more about them. Here, there's a bunch of caricatures, and even Rachel was made subject to some weak soap operay storytelling. I wound up just remembering the good times with Brenda during the hour.

Dexter

A more successful series for an SFU alum is Dexter, starring Michael C. Hall. I was always a bigger fan of the Nate/Brenda stuff, so it's easier for me to accept Hall in another role. Occasionally I would be like, why isn't he gay, but generally speaking he sold me on this guy as a totally different character. Now, that's a lot easier for him to do because Dexter is a pretty distinct character. The basic premise is that he's a forensics profiler who does vigilante killings in his spare time. But, on a character level, the idea is that he's a hollow shell who doesn't feel anything and just fakes all the surface emotions that people present. The end of the first episode leads us to believe that the series' arc will revolve around him gradually developing emotions, throwing his world into chaos. Hall is great, and it's nice to see Julie Benz doing good work as well. I'm not sure if the series will work for the long term, but there's definitely a couple of good seasons in the premise. That said, it was a bit weird that they chose to have a bald, black cop be Hall's antagonist in this role, I kept thinking, Keith?

Studio 60 - Episode 3

I loved the first episode, wasn't huge on the second, but the third brought me back. This one had a bit more scope than two, and was just more fun to watch. I think the sketches worked better, though I doubt that a network executive's DUI eight years prior would be such a big story. I'll be back next week, though the show's ratings aren't too promising for a long run. At least Heroes got picked up for the full season.

State of TV

I really hope no one brings out the old, "There's nothing good on TV" now because this fall has to be one of the deepest TV seasons ever. I'm watching something like eight shows a week, and that's without sampling shows like The Nine and Friday Night Lights that received massive critical acclaim. We're at a point in the medium where people are taking risks and delivering better than film writing and direction on a weekly basis. And I've still got the Battlestar Galactica premiere waiting to be watched.

Phoenix - United

I listened to United a couple of days ago and it was my best listen to the album ever. I fell in love with Phoenix's Alphabetical, and United was always weaker for me. But I've given it some more attention lately and the two albums are now pretty equal for me. I think a lot of it was hearing the songs live, which made me really appreciate how good they are. 'Too Young' and 'If You Ever Feel Better' are perfectly constructed pop songs and 'Funky Squaredance' is an unparalleled house/rock/disco epic. I particularly like how the guitar in that songs sounds exactly like the guitars in Daft Punk's 'Digital Love.' Other lesser known tracks like 'City on Fire' and 'Embuscade' are equally engaging. I hope they bring it back to the warmer keyboard sound for their next album, 'It's Never Been Like That' was good, but not unique. I've never heard anything else like United or Alphabetical.

Upcoming Dates of Note

10/9 - Inland Empire at NYFF
10/14 - Marie Antoinette at NYFF
10/15 - Patti Smith at CBGB's
10/25 - Seven Soldiers #1 Released
10/27 - Babel Released
11/22 - The Fountain Released

The Departed

I love a film that opens with total confidence in what it's doing, dropping you into a world and not looking back. From the moment 'Gimme Shelter' starts up and Jack Nicholson starts his voiceover, this film had me. Much like the opening frames of Miami Vice announce that this is something special, you know from the brilliant first fifteen minutes that this is going to be a memorable film.

I love Infernal Affairs, it's one of my favorite films from recent years, it's a really tight, emotionally involving film. Normally I don't think it's worthwhile to remake films, but the premise to IA is just so good it can easily support two great films.

In approaching an adaptation of a work you love there's two approaches. One could focus on the changes and point out how it isn't as good as the original. Some adaptations, like the film of From Hell, are so glaringly bad you don't really have a choice but to do this. However, this film functions more like the film of Ghost World. It takes the same jumping off point as Infernal Affairs, but feels like a new story. I love the fact that there's so many alterations from the original, that film is out there, but with this, Scorsese has made a dynamic film that's full of life and originality.

One of the primary elements that separates the film from its predecessor is the performances. Nicholson is immensely entertaining, at any moment he could do something insane and hilarious. No one can do unhinged weirdness as well as him, and the high point for his character is undoubtedly the cut to Jack against a pure red background, move out to see him flanked by two women and dissolve to him throwing coke in the air. It's so ridiculous, but perfect for the world that Scorsese has created.

But Nicholson is by no means alone in bringing insane greatness to his performance. Mark Wahlberg can barely contain his anger with each line, spouting crazy insults to anyone within earshot. Alec Baldwin also gets some great lines, particularly his discussion of marriage at the driving range. For me, a lot of the entertainment in the film came from just marvelling at the performances. There's a style of acting that's designed to blend in, feel totally real, and that's great for certain projects, but this sort of showy scenery chewing makes this film very entertaining to watch, and seems to fit into the world. I can't imagine how times the word fuck is used in this film, but it may top even Goodfellas.

While these three are going off over the top, Damon and Dicaprio are able to emotionally ground the film. It's probably frustrating to see Nicholson or Wahlberg getting a lot of acclaim and laughs for what they're doing, but Damon and Dicaprio make it possible for them to go off into such flights of ridiculousness. They're both great in the film, and Scorsese does a great job of connecting the two characters, despite the fact that they only have a couple of scenes together.

Martin Sheen also does good work. The scene at his house was a great addition because it cemented the relationship between him and William, making his death all the more powerful. William's quick transition from sadness to tough abandon perfectly captured the difficulty of what he has to do. The film makes quite clear the sacrifices that both men go through and the loss of self identity.

Neither can fully commit to Madolyn, and I would consider that the justification for why she gets into a relationship with both of them. To some extent, their dual relationship felt a bit contrived, but within the context of the film it works, and I think having her character in a bigger role than the IA equivalent helped the film quite a bit.

This film had a wonderful energy, evidence that everything behind the scenes was working really well. The music was perfectly chosen, particularly in the 'Comfortably Numb' sequence, though I admit I really wanted a sequence set to the climax of 'Gimme Shelter.' The score had an effective industrial vibe, making it sound like it came out of the environment the characters were moving through.

The film's violence was pretty brutal, particularly in the final sequence. Never before have I seen so many headshots in a film, and it was effectively jarring. The final scene has been getting some pans from people who'd seen IA, but I think it worked well to complete the circle of violence. There's a brilliant ambiguity in the ending of IA, where Andy Lau claims the role of cop for himself, but I think this ending is equally valid and disturbing in its own way.

I'd have to watch IA again to figure out definitively, but right now I'd actually give The Departed the slight edge over its predecessor. I think Infernal Affairs had a tighter narrative that took better advantage of the parallels inherent in the premise, but The Departed's performances and film style made it a more enjoyable viewing experience.

Now, a film that's just entertaining isn't enough. Where The Departed goes further is in the fact that the entertainment isn't just that of a typical Hollywood movie, which is designed to be a smooth, easy viewing experience. This was entertaining in its construction and performances, in watching people who are the best at what they do enjoying doing their job.

Generally speaking, I've been drifting away from films that are tightly wound narratives, towards bigger, messier style pieces. Miami Vice is a great example of this, a film that doesn't always make plot sense, but has a strong emotional and stylistic throughline. Vice has a lot in common with The Departed, with both films exploring the difficulty of undercover work. I'd give Vice the slight edge both because I liked the visual work there better, and also because of the tragedy of the Gong Li/Colin Farrell relationship. But I think the films are wonderful companion pieces and are the two best American films of the year so far.

Looking at it, I think The Departed is actually my favorite Scorsese film. It's clearly not the most important or groundbreaking, but it also lacks the overt misogyny that is troubling in his other films. I find it difficult to relate to the really violent hyper masculine characters in his oeuvre, and that winds up knocking Raging Bull and Mean Streets. I respect those films, but I don't engage with them. Plus, I think the stylistic innovation of something like Goodfellas is numbed by the many films that have imitated it. So, I'm giving the edge to The Departed, which has a fantastic story, massive performances and is just a joy to watch.

And here's my ranking of all Scorsese's film that I've seen:

The Departed
Goodfellas
Taxi Driver
Raging Bull
The Aviator
The Last Temptation of Christ
New York, New York
Casino
Mean Streets
Gangs of New York

From Hell - 'What Doth the Lord Require of Thee' (Chapter 4)

This chapter announces a new era in Moore's writing, prefiguring much of Promethea, in both content and storytelling style. It's also the moment when you know that From Hell is something really special, a work of astounding scope. In telling the story of Jack the Ripper, Moore is actually chronicling the entirety of western history.

The critical concept in this chapter, and the work as a whole, is the conflict between the male essence and the female essence, between the rational brain and the creative brain. According to Moore, humanity began in a matriarchal society, full of wonder and creativity. This is a world where hard rules don't apply, with rules come limits, and as time passes, we become more locked into a specific way of viewing the world. This worldview becomes a prison, narrowing our range of thought.

So, the passage of human history is the record of this narrowing. I think the bit that most perfectly sums this up is when Gull talks about how men who saw visions used to be saints, now they're lunatics. I've always thought about the fact that people would outright dismiss most feats of wonder performed today, but they'll believe it if it's written in the bible. That demonstrates Moore's point, which is that that was an age of wonder, but we live in an age of reason, where science constructs a frame to view the world. This can be good, but viewing the world through this one frame means we don't bother to think about what's outside of the accepted notions of what's possible.

This is all wrapped up in sun/phallic symbolism. The obelisks around London become monuments to the progress of rationality. And yet, in creating these monuments, their architects invoke an older power, drawing back to the gods of the past. So, St. Paul's Cathedral, built on the site of the death of Boadecia features heavy Pagan influences and serves as the center of the magic circle in London.

This paradox also applies to Gull himself. By carrying out the Queen's request, he is killing Diana's prositutes, and yet, more than any around him, he's aware of the past he is destroying. He has seen God and knows the hidden magic in the world around him. This is one of the most difficult things to reconcile about the book, Gull simultaneously functions as the last magician and the first man of a new age. He is a scientist, but still believes thoroughly in right brain principles. Gull is a man caught between the two ages, and he ultimately decides that his purpose is to complete the journey of humanity towards its new left brain world.

I think part of this split consciousness is due to Moore's decision to use Gull as a mouthpiece for his beliefs on magic. This chapter is thematically connected to the story of From Hell, but it's equally about Moore expounding on concepts that he finds interesting. This is a format he'll use again in the brilliant journey through kaballah section of Promethea. I find the concepts Moore explores fascinating, so I don't mind that narrative momentum is put on hold for a bit. In this work in particular, the story stuff is not what interests me, it's the exploration of these concepts.

One of the coolest things here is the idea that all gods are manifestations of one essence. That comes back in the gold issue of Promethea's kaballah arc, where she encounters Jesus and sees that he is just the latest incarnation of the same mythological character. I hadn't read Promethea when I first read From Hell, and I wasn't really aware how many of the concepts he explores later were first presented here. I love that idea of the god essence. Here, it's significant that humanity began with many gods, finding magic in all aspects of life, but we've gradually refined our belief to one all powerful being, and in the future, religion could vanish entirely.

For Moore religion isn't about dogma, it's about the power of belief in something greater than ourselves. If we no longer have gods, what can we aspire to be? As a creator of fiction, Moore has seen the way that chance and coincidence shape the world, and the things that he experienced made him believe that there's a higher order to the universe.

Reading this issue made me want to go to London and take the tour that Gull and Netley do. Yet, the wonder of the issue is the way it really makes you feel like you're a passenger with them. The whole work is astonishing in the way it immerses you in its world, but this issue in particular is notable in drawing you in.

This issue lays out the basis for understanding the rest of the work. The age of wonder is ending, and reason is taking over. Gull will be the one to usher in that new age, with the ritualistic sacrifice of women, the ultimate male figure creating fear in all females. Those murders, the murders of Diana's handmaidens, will give birth to a new age where magic is all but extinct.

Veronica Mars - 'Welcome Wagon' (3x01)

Another series to watch, my schedule's getting a bit too crowded. I'm already a week behind on Nip/Tuck and Weeds, and in the case of Nip/Tuck, I don't know if I'll bother catching up. But, that's beside the point, I'll probably be sticking with Veronica Mars for the long haul, despite this not particularly impressive season premiere.

The show had major ratings problems during its time on UPN, and the pairing with Gilmore Girls gives it a second chance to find an audience. However, I don't think this is the episode that's going to hook new viewers. I think it would have been smart to do some kind of quick summary of the series to date before the show to give people an idea of who these people are. It's impossible to totally catch someone up in one episode, but at least give people the basic dynamic. Maybe it's just my style of viewing, but I don't think I'd have the patience to watch the show if I didn't really know what was going on.

Beyond that, I think the show made some errors in not emphasizing its strengths in the season premiere. The first scene plays up Veronica's arrogance and doesn't make her particularly likable. I think there's a lot of room for exploring that aspect of her character, but the intention of the scene was to engrain her to the audience and even as someone who's watched the show, I found her annoying there.

What does work is the fallout from last season's events. We see all of the characters in a subdued mood, particularly Mac, who's clearly still smarting from what happened with Beaver. On the one hand, it makes for a pretty low key premiere, but I think it's necessary because the end of season two brought forth some really heavy issues. Dick in particular has a potentially interesting arc.

The vast majority of TV shows work because of our attachment to the characters, and interest in where they go. So, I liked the stuff with Veronica's crew, but the rather generic college mystery doesn't work so well. College just doesn't work as a setting for a show, both Buffy and Gilmore Girls stumbled when the lead character went off to college, and they each ultimately decided to move away from college based stories. It seems like Veronica will go the Buffy season four route and try to transfer its previous storytelling structure to college, but I just don't think it will work. One of the cool things about the first couple of years was the way the high school population remained consistent, but with college there's so many people you won't get that sense of community. Also, it becomes a lot more difficult to keep the characters in contact. I'm not sure where it will go, but I don't see this format working for the long term.

That said, next week's episode looks to recapture some of the fun of the show at its best. I have the feeling it will be difficult to balance the show's generally irreverent tone with an extended storyline about a serial rapist. The episode last season that foreshadowed this ran into problems, and I think it's a mistake to hang the whole season on it. I have no problem with shows blending comedy and drama, a show like Buffy could fluctuate from the goofiest comedy to really heavy emotional stuff. But, I feel like rape isn't the sort of thing where you can jump to a goofy bit in the next scene. Maybe they'll pull it off, we'll see.

Vixen

After watching the phenomenal Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, I decided to check out some previous Russ Meyer films and arrived at Vixen. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls was made at 20th Century Fox, and he made full use of the resources the studio offered him. Vixen has a much lower budget, and also a lower scope. The thing I love about Beyond the Valley of the Dolls is the way that Meyer just throws everything in there. There's comedy, there's horror, there's songs, and the filmmaking style is full of really bold cutting and narrative technique.

Vixen is pretty straight forward, a series of narrative episodes that can be summarized thusly: Vixen encounters a person then has sex with them. The best parts of the film are where Meyer plays up the camp sense of fun that he does so well. The opening scene with Vixen and the Mountie (or mountee in this case) is the strongest. Backed by some smooth 60s music we see Vixen seduce the mountie then they crack some jokes about her husband and run through the woods naked. It's funny, it's peppy and it's sexy, and I think that's what Meyer's intention is with the whole film.

I don't think it's a particularly notable film, but it's always entertaining and a lot of that is do to Erica Gavin. She's really beautiful, in a very 60s way. I love the makeup and hairstyle trends of that time, they hold up better than anything that followed in the 70s, 80s or 90s. Gavin was likely cast for her breasts, but she brings an interesting screen presence. She's very fierce, always the aggressor in any situation and the fun of the film is watching her cross every possible societal boundary.

It was pretty shocking to hear her dropping racial epithet after racial epithet, even more curious considering the relatively progressive racial landspace presented in Dolls. I'm guessing the intention was to demonstrate how ingrained racist attitudes are, this is a woman who will have sex with her own brother, but won't call a black man by his name. At the end of the film, they come to a mutual understanding, he recognizes that trying to overthrow the system would lead to chaos and she sees him as a human being for the first time. It's a bit odd that the film spends so much time on this political debate, considering the first 50 minutes or so consisted almost exclusively of sex scenes.

The most boundary breaking of these would be Vixen's encounter with her brother. I think this would have been more effective if their relationship hadn't been played as sexual right from the beginning. That numbed the impact of her eventual decision to sleep with him, I was pretty much expecting it from their first conversation. That said, the use of the showerhead in that scene was well done.

So, the opening and closing were pretty solid, I think the film went awry in the middle, with the couple's visit to the lodge. Audiences at the time were probably there just to see the sex, but having seen what Meyer could do in Dolls, I wanted more than just that. I'm not going to complain about watching Erica Gavin naked multiple times, but that's just a surface attraction, the film isn't giving us anything more.

But, I think the ending worked well, and the film stands as a snapshot of social relations at the time. This film was the first to receive an X rating, and it's representative of a culture where the sexual revolution is in full swing. You wouldn't see this kind of plotting outside of porn these days, but what separates this from porn is the joy present behind the work. At its best moments, the film allows you to share Vixen's joy at transgressing societal boundaries and just living her own way. I just wish the film aimed higher and attacked a broader canvas of issues. After having seen Faster Pussycat and Vixen, it seems that Dolls is the realization of all Meyer's previous potential into one epic piece of pop entertainment.

Gilmore Girls - 'That's What You Get Folks, For Makin' Whoopie' (7x02)

Much like last week, this episode has some really good scenes, and some pretty inexplicable plot developments. It's difficult to say how things would be different with the Palladinos, but there's clearly some stuff here that they would never have done, and with that, the show loses some of what made it so unique.

From a directorial standpoint, the closeups are jarring. I never really noticed it before, but they almost never did closeups during the Palladino years, so they really stand out here. The scene I'm thinking of most is with Rory/Lane at the end. Similar closeups are used during the Lorelai/Luke confrontations, but they felt more organic, as a contrast to the wide shots used to show their distance. However, there was no particular reason for them in the later scene so they just felt odd.

One thing I did like here was having Luke come to terms with how his actions last year screwed things up with Lorelai. We get a better understanding of his point of view, and even if the stuff with Liz and TJ went on a bit long, it worked well to build his character.

His interactions with Lorelai were also well done. The first meeting in the street was not realistic, but it fit find within the show's world. Staging the final confrontation at a supermarket off set, out of the Stars Hollow world, worked well to take us out of the comfort zone of Stars Hollow. The coldness of the aisles fit well with the rocky exteriors they presented to each other. Luke may say that he and Lorelai never were meant to work, but it's pretty clear he's using that as justification for the break up, it's not what he actually feels.

The other stuff that works pretty well is Lorelai's continuing attempt to deal with her emotional issues. I like the fight with Rory, though I think that Rory may be a bit out of line in insisting that Lorelai talk to her about the breakup. Rory makes the whole thing about her, ignoring her mom's pain.

I think the most difficult thing for Rosenthal while writing this must be trying to maintain the show's quirky tone without being self conscious about it. The whole Asian thing is something that the Palladinos might have done, but I don't know if they'd have gone so far with it. The scene had some good bits, but it felt a bit like someone told him, this show is about Lorelai and Rory doing wacky things, and that means he's got to fit in one such moment in each episode. It feels like an attempt to return to the style of earlier seasons, and that kind of wackiness feels a bit odd when it's surrounded by such emotionally heavy stuff. Last year, Lorelai used humor as a mask to hide her feelings, here it's totally disconnected from the emotional center of the show.

The error in this episode is a much bigger one, and that's Lane's pregnancy. This basically kills the character as she was, it's a totally nonsensical choice. For one, pregnancy storylines have been done so many times before, I don't think there's that much fresh terrain. But more importantly, the whole point of Lane is that she's rebelling against the conservative idea of women that her mother clings to. So, it makes no sense to make her pregnant after having sex one time. I would have rather seen her continue with the band and try to work out being married and in the band together. The impression I got from this episode is that we're going to see her and Zach in conflict, I wouldn't be surprised if the storyline ended with her returning to her mom's to raise the child.

All of the character's forward momentum in previous years is undone in this one action, and it's a bit ridiculous to suggest that Rory's few words at the end of the episode are enough to make her excited to go through with it. Considering the fact that she works part time at the diner and Zach doesn't seem to have a job, it could be very difficult to raise a child. I seriously question that editorial decision, it feels totally arbitrary and will likely lead only to bad things.

So, this episode did some things right, but made a few really big errors. I think there's a lot of potential in having Lorelai and Christopher try to make it work as a couple, and I'm hoping they'll at least sample that direction. And hopefully the elder Gilmores will turn up in the next episode.

Heroes - 'Don't Look Back' (1x02)

Last week, I said that I was "I'm intrigued, but not totally sold." After watching this episode, I'm pretty much sold on the show for the long haul. Pilots can sometimes dazzle you by functioning as brilliant standalone pieces that don't necessarily give you an indication of what the show will be like in the long haul, like Studio 60. The Heroes pilot had the difficulty of having to introduce a huge amount of characters and concepts, and that meant that scenes that would play well later in the series felt a bit awkward with the need to shove in exposition.

With this second episode, the show finds a really strong rhythm and shows us a structure that should work well on an episode to episode basis. The show takes the basic structure of a Robert Altman film, with a whole bunch of characters drifting through their own little stories, with some subtle connections between them, as well as an overarching narrative centered around a calamitous event. I think this structure is great for both films and TV shows because it gives you a uniquely godlike perspective as a viewer. You watch events unfold from multiple perspectives and experience an entire world, rather than simply one person's story. At its best, as in Magnolia, you become emotionally engaged in a variety of narratives, and these emotional engagements compliment each other, creating a total emotional immersion in a narrative reality.

We're not quite there yet in Heroes, rather we're watching each of the story strands develop independently. This works because the series clearly positions each episode as a small chapter in a larger narrative. We see this in the title of the episode (subtitle: Like Dylan in the Movies), and also the voiceover narration at the end. The previously was also interesting, using voiceover rather than just a series of clips makes the viewer more aware of the fact that it's a story being told. The frequent comic book references also do this. This is primarily motivated by a desire to give the story scope and it works really well.

The only other TV series I've seen that seemed so conscious of its status as an epic is Carnivale, making it fitting that we get a guest appearance by Clea Duvall in this episode. As I mentioned last week, both series have the same basic narrative setup, and Hiro's apocalyptic vision in this episode recalls Ben Hawkins' similar vision. What we don't know yet in this series is who the overarching villain is, glasses guy clearly has a big role, but I get the sense that he's working for someone else. Perhaps it will be one of our 'heroes' who finds himself corrupted by their power.

Hiro's vision also sets up a deadline. He's got to get to New York in the present to stop the debraining killer from wiping out Isaac and dooming humanity. Convienently, this deadline falls on the first week of sweeps month. It would seem that five weeks hence we'll see the first climax of the show, when this apocalyptic event is prevented or more likely delayed. I saw this as a more longterm problem, but the presentation of the show indicates that the creators have a good idea of where they're going, so I'm not too worried about them burning through all their story material too early.

After only two episodes, this would seem to be the most Grant Morrison TV series of all time. The character whose life is a comic book, as well as the time disjunction is pure GM, and it's great to see these concepts on a big network series. The show on a whole is refreshingly odd, you very rarely see this kind of sci-fi anywhere outside of comics and even more rarely is it taken seriously. Unbreakable is the only thing I can think of, but where that was essentially Miracleman Volume One, this promises to go into the stuff that Moore explored in Volumes two and three, namely the impact of superheroes on society as a whole. I would love to see the show eventually do something like the 'Olympus' arc, and give us a world ruled by superheroes, and explore the consequences of that. There's so much potential with this show, and the second episode has me more confident that they can fulfill it.

Beyond that, the characters are really starting to click. Greg Gunberg is great, Hiro's still strong and the scene between Claire and her father was great, particularly his quick switch from caring father to evil dude. I'm guessing it's not a coincidence that Claire happened to be adopted by him, and I doubt her birth parents are still alive to meet her.

I thought this was a fantastic episode. There are still some issues, but you're going to have those at this point in any series. The show has a clear direction, and perhaps most importantly, this episode was a lot of fun to watch. I'm really looking forward to next week's.

And as a final note, the Battlestar Galactica promo they showed during this episode was fantastic, very epic. I'm psyched to see the season premiere on Friday.

Weekend Update

Patti Smith CBGB's Show

Tomorrow, I'm going to try to get tickets to the final show at CBGB's, a performance by Patti Smith. I love her stuff, I've only heard Horses and Easter, but those are two fantastic albums. I'm guessing tickets will go quick, but Ticketweb doesn't allow for scalping, which means it'll be a lot easier to get tickets for there than for a Ticketmaster show. The one time I was at CBGB's what struck me was how small it was. I couldn't see many big bands performing there, you're not going to sell many tickets.

In the Mix

I listened to the new Polyphonic Spree EP this week. The covers were nice, and the two new songs were great, a bit more streamlined than the ten minute epics from Together We're Heavy. I'm really excited to hear the new record and see them live again. It's been a year since I saw them at Across the Narrows, too long to be without Spree. I've also been listening more to the second Scissor Sisters album, which is growing on me. I think it might eventually surpass the first album for me, though it lacks the killer opening trio of songs that that album had.

The Departed

This week I'm excited to see The Departed on Friday. The Nicholson performance alone should be worth the price of admission. And then next Monday I'll get to see Inland Empire. We're getting into a really good time for films.

From Hell (Chapter 1-3)

After reading a bunch of Grant Morrison stuff, I decided it was time to mix it up and check back in with his hairier rival, good old Alan Moore. It's still amazing to me that the two best thinkers in popular fiction both work in comics, are both magicians and both explore similar themes in their works. The two of them so similar, it makes sense that they'd dislike each other. Despite sharing so many themes and concepts, the two of them have very different approaches to their work, approaches dictated by their technique in magic. Morrison is a chaos magician, all about do it yourself belief powered magic. Moore prefers a more structured system, drawing on older traditions. Consequentially, Morrison's work is much looser, based on pop extravagance, full of energy, but often sloppy. Moore's work is perfectly structured, working on countless levels, but lacking the sheer joy of Morrison at his best. They're my two favorite authors.

I first read From Hell in May 2003, at the end of my period of total immersion in The Invisibles. In November 2002, I read the whole series and I spent the subsequent six months working through the concepts and talking over the series with other readers. I had put off reading From Hell for a while, covering other Moore works because I wasn't expecting much from a nearly 500 page graphic novel set in the 1800s. I was picturing something more like the From Hell film, a traditional period murder mystery. What the book delivered was an interrogation of one hundred years of societal history, seen through the lens of magical exploration. I loved the book, and I'd count it among Moore's best works, a crowded place.

So, I'm not returning to the work for the first time. Seeing as how From Hell is a massive book, it's going to take a little bit to set everything up. The opening Men on the Beach prologue sets up one of the book's primary themes, the idea that our contemporary media is built on crime. Just like Abberline's house was paid for through the Ripper murders, so our modern society is built on the culture of media immersion created through coverage of the Ripper attacks.

The most impressive thing about chapter one is the way that Moore compresses time. In the space of five pages we travel through five years, and the evolution of Annie Crook's relationship with the Prince. This is likely done to try to expedite the exposition. I'm not sure how the work evolved over the years in which it was written, but the core of the piece is exploring what drives William Gull to do what he does, and how his actions remake his society. So, the actual circumstances surrounding the murder are less important than the murder itself.

However, this exposition is necessary, and what this chapter does beyond just introduce plot essentials is begin to build the mood of the piece. Moore has been very fortunate in that he's had incredible artists on most of his projects, and he's been able to tailor his writing to take full advantage of the artist's talents. Even though I don't find Eddie Campbell's art as aesthetically beautiful as someone like JH Williams, I think he's the perfect artist for this book and having someone else do it would totally alter the character of the piece. In his scratchy black and white drawings he creates a world that envelops you. This feels like a book made in the nineteenth century and sent forward through time. It's that authentic, and that credibility is essential to the success of the work.

The core themes of the book begin to develop in chapter two, a first person journey through Williiam Gull's entire life. Like chapter one, this is a marvel of perfectly chosen moments to convey the information needed to move forward. I remember when I was first reading the book, the caption "What is the fourth dimension?" was the moment when I began to think that there was more to this book than your typical period set story. Going with the fourth dimension theme, we get fractions of his life in that first blank page, and the idea of moments experienced outside of time becomes critical as things roll along.

The thing I like about Gull's story is his utter removal from traditional societal customs. He's searching for his purpose throughout the chapter, but he behaves like a man who's already on a mission, he does not indulge in the social niceties that his peers partake of. This is best demonstrated by his encounter with John Merrick, the Elephant Man. He comes right out and says that Merrick his hideous, and Merrick respects that honesty. His fascination with the grotesque is also evident when he dissects the mouse, a scene that will be paralleled later on.

Here we also see him getting involved with the masons. This is all part of his quest for a purpose in life, which culminates with his vision of the three gods. That's a stunning page, the spread's impact enhanced by its difference from the previous dense nine panel grids. Jahbulon is described as the great architect of the universe. He ties into something Moore explored in Promethea, the idea that all gods the same thing, they're just viewed through different cultural lenses. So, the Egyptian god is the Jewish/Christian god, they're all one aspect of the same creative force that pushes the universe forward.

After his encounter with the godhead, Gull finds the purpose he was looking for, and as the book proceeds, he will go on to become the architect of a new world, the one we live in. It's great to finallly see Gull after experiencing things from his first person perspective for the whole chapter, and in that scene, we also see the cruelty of England's royal family, doing anything they can to preserve their traditional superiority.

In chapter three, we get further development of the street scene in Whitechapel. One of the wonderful things that Moore does in his books is create fully realized societites. In Watchmen, we get not only an entire alternate history of societal development, we also get to know a whole bunch of ordinary people on the street, and it's that development that makes the end of the book so powerful. Similarly, in this work we understand the average person on the street, and because we know these characters, we can better understand the effect that the murders have on their world.

These first few chapters are essential in building the world of From Hell. My favorite is definitely the William Gull stuff, he's the main character of this work, and the point is to explore what drives a man to murder like he did. I think the actual historical events surroudning him are rather beside the point, what's truly important is the effect that the murders had on the world, and on the man who did them. That's what this book chronicles.

Next up is the classic Chapter 4, one of the best things Moore ever wrote.

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip - 'The Cold Open' (1x02)

A lot of times the second episode can be a low point for a show. After pouring everything into a pilot, the second episode is when the business of really introducing characters and ongoing plot threads comes to the fore. In the case of this show, the pilot was so well crafted, clearly taking advantage of the extra time allowed to produce the pilot. But, as they move on to a more regular production schedule, a lot of the location shooting and music driven sequences fall by the wayside in favor of a rhythm that's reminiscent of The West Wing.

I'm a bit surprised that Sorkin chose to bring back the same font used on The West Wing. Beyond that, the show is providing the same basic pleasures as its predecessor. We're here to watch smart, articulate people do their job, battling against aspects of bureacracy that are working to stop them from doing what they want, and in this case, what they want to do is always considered the right thing to do. It's a bit odd that this show, set on a sketch comedy set, feels more self serious than The West Wing. The West Wing characters were always joking about stuff, but here there's a very serious vibe, and only occasionally does witty banter shine through. Part of this might be a reflection of the cavernous, dark sets, which give everything a dark feeling.

The episode does demonstrate that there's plenty of opportunities for drama in this world. There's the insider/outsider vibe with Matt and Danny vs. the rest of the staff, and I'm guessing that will not be an easily resolved conflict. And then there's interpersonal conflict between the staffers that can also provide a lot of material.

However, I'm not really clear what will be happening on a week to week basis with the network exec characters. Clearly the issues with the Christian right are a Sorkin preoccupation, but I don't think they can just have a boycott every episode. And the other big issue with the episode is that the sketch they do doesn't seem particularly hip. I don't think most of their target demographic knows who Gilbert and Sullivan are. It's possible this will be an issue raised next week, but as treated here, it seemed to comic gold.

So, I wasn't as enthusiastic about this episode as I was about the pilot. I still think there's a lot of potential here, but it'll just take some refining to get the show into a workable week to week model.