Some Thoughts On G.I. Joseph, AKA The Cobra Also Rises

Today I saw Stephen Sommers’ first film since Van Helsing threatened to kill his career in a flurry of poorly CGI’d werewolf hair. As G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra bombarded my eyeballs with a seemingly endless parade of gloomily-lit bases, bland outfits, and incompetently filmed carnage, several thoughts flitted through my brain. I suspect these thoughts were my brain’s self-defence program, to prevent my sanity from tumbling, unhindered by rational thought, into a swirling vortex of suicide-inducing ennui.

Things I liked about G.I. Tract: Cobrasonic:

  • The tech is often a lot of fun. There’s a lot of force-gun action that’s great for throwing people and jeeps around the screen, and for at least the first hour there isn’t a single scene that doesn’t have some peculiar technological madness kicking off in the frame. For a while, this was enough to make me think I would love the movie on some gut level.
  •  

  • It’s mostly set in underground or underwater bases, and the antagonists are gleefully supervillainous. It’s so unapologetically broad that it wins you over at first.
  •  

  • Sienna Miller has never been used well in a popular movie until now. She’s oddly endearing as the tortured villain The Baroness.
  •  

  • Actually, the cast is very impressive, for the most part. Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Christopher Ecclestone, Jonathan Pryce, Dennis Quaid, Saïd Taghmaoui, Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje (yes, Cesar and Mr. Eko finally meet beyond the grave!)… Some of them are actually good, as well. (Taghmaoui wins out.)


Things I did not like about G.I. Bill: The Rose of Cairo:

Unfortunately, those great actors are not only forced to play second fiddle to Channing Tatum — who appears to be an especially inexpressive golem of some kind — and Marlon Wayons¹, but also to gabble the most flat and silly dialogue at a speed that must have required some kind of fourth-dimensional voice-coaching. Every scene featuring dialogue is packed so full of exposition that there is no room for nuance, inflection, or emotion. It’s just a long scream of “DUKE WE NEED TO LOCATE THE BASE AND FIND THE KILLSWITCH FOR THE NANOMITES I’M ON IT SIR WE HAVE TO GET TO PARIS BEFORE THEY WEAPONISE THOSE WARHEADS YOU GOT IT DUKE SUIT UP SOLDIER!” The action scenes should be a respite from the hectic shouting, but they’re nothing but a tumult of shattering planet. By the time the credits rolled, I was draped across my seat, utterly defeated by the barrage of aggressive nonsense. Imagine being verbally assaulted by a gamma-irradiated Jerky Boy. That’s G.I. Joe.


Why do that? Partially because Stephen Sommers, while having some expertise at handling the technical aspects of his movies, has absolutely no idea how to modulate scenes. As with everything else he’s made, every scene is played like a big finish, with everyone operating at full tilt. This is, of course, a lot like Michael Bay’s modus operandi, but even though Bay’s movies are poorly paced, they are at least paced in some form. As I’ve said on here before, Sommers just does FASTslowFASTslowFASTslow, with the only variation being the length of the FAST scenes. In G.I. Joe, the first action scene is about eight minutes long. The second is thirteen minutes long. The Paris sequence feels like it lasts an hour. The big finish in the underwater base might still be going on. I left the cinema ten hours ago but the room was still shaking. THE JOES HAD TO FIND THE KILLSWITCH TO DEACTIVATE THE NANOMITES BEFORE THEY DESTROYED WARSHINGTON! I hope they did. Regrettably, I needed to put my head down somewhere.


That’s why the dialogue gets rattled out like minigun rounds. Sommers is presented with a script containing 108 pages. That’s 108 minutes. The action scenes probably account for 40 pages, which is not enough action for Sommers, who is like a little boy playing with toys, contriving ever more silly ways to keep his playtime going². So, those 68 pages of dialogue are squished down to 48 by making everyone talk like they’re on fast forward, and the action is dragged out for 20 extra pages. There is approximately an hour of things blowing up. That shit even tires me out, and I usually thrive on this stuff.

Of course, Sommers also cannot film action properly. The camera is way too close, the explosions are shot in such a way as to obstruct what is happening, and the fighting is poorly choreographed. The swordfights between Snake Eyes and Storm Shadow are too short, set in spaces too small, and keep stopping and starting. No flow, no thrill.


There is also a poor use of environment, with every setting being used the same way (jeep flips over ten times, man flies through air, other man crashes through wall, another jeep flips through the air, thing explodes as jeep hits it, man flips through air and hits jeep, jeep hits man in mid-air, etc.). The main action scenes are in a forest, the G.I. Joe base, Paris, and the Cobra base, but they’re all completely interchangeable. There are only one or two elements that differentiate them (a train in Paris, water in the Cobra base), but otherwise it’s the same clanging bullshit. Plus, he underlights everything. I say this with all honesty: Bay the action director pisses all over Sommers the action director. It’s not saying much, but I stand by that.

The effects are all over the place. Digital Domain are doing a lot of heavy lifting this year, now that Michael Bay runs the show. Their effects are generally very very good, and have a very distinctive textured feel, but they over-reach at times here. The Accelerator suits looked so cool in previews, but onscreen they’re boring to look at (those glum colours are shown up by Iron Man’s red and gold), and move really haphazardly. I know they’re like mad exo-skeletons and make their wearers more agile and whatever, but in the Paris scene they just seem like ragdolls. There’s no sense of weight or power. It’s just circus flipping and stuff. The effects on Snake Eyes are marginally better, as he is not meant to be augmented like the other “Joes”³, but even then he’s on a truck that doesn’t even seem to be a part of the scene. None of them do. It’s like Sommers got hold of some holiday footage in Paris and clumsily stuck some exploding ragdolls in the middle of it.


Plus, stop hurting Paris, you dick. Seeing some of the very streets we recently walked along get treated like a warzone made me surprisingly angry. When the Eiffel tower got wrecked, I felt the red rage. Leave the beautiful city alone, you crass douchebag.

Going back to the script problems for a moment, the majority of the important character beats are revealed through flashbacks, with the modern settings used primarily to display explosions of various size. That’s not very sleek storytelling, but I wouldn’t really have a problem with it, were those flashbacks not ushered in with the relevant character breaking off from yelling about NANOMITE TECHNOLOGY to stare into the middle distance. All it needs is the wobbly dissolve to be one step below Falcon Crest. Maybe Lost has ruined this old flashback cliche, but whatever it is, most of the laughs I got from this was from the use of this hoary old trick. If I were more generous, I’d say Sommers is having a laugh, but as the movie is devoid of intentional humour (don’t forget, Marlon Wayans is in it), I strongly doubt that.

Anyone who has seen Ray Park act, as Toad in X-Men or Gurning Cockney Wanker in the Bertolucci-homage Ballistic: Ecks Vs. Sever, knows that you’re best off hiring him for his prodigious martial arts skills, and for anything else you hire Peter Serafinowicz to voice him, or figure out a way to shut him up. This movie casts him as a silent ninja-type in a full body suit and weird visor, which is fine for me, but why oh why did they ruin the effect of the mask with a weird rubber mouth?


Those full rubber lips, perpetually in a half-open pose of surprise, make him look like a half-ninja/half yokel cyborg man. Remember the bit in The Man With Two Brains where Dr. Hfuhruhurr puts wax lips on Anne Uumellmahaye’s brain jar so he has something to kiss? It looks like someone did that to Snake Eyes.

As for the rest of the costumes, the only ones that make an impression are the skintight leather catsuits on Sienna Miller and Rachel Nichols. Not because I’m a big horndog, but because the rest of the outfits are either bland Accelerator suits or generic camo gear. Sadly, Miller and Nichols appear to have the same sexytailor, but then Sommers apparently doesn’t see a reason to differentiate (their hair is different colours, after all).


It’s the same with the vehicles. The big underwater finale features a battle between Joeboats and Cobrasubs, with both kinds of vehicle looking almost identical. At the start of the battle they’re on either side of the screen, so you know one is bad, the other is good. Two seconds later and it’s just pixels swimming about. This is not a joke: I honestly longed for the Star Wars prequels. At least there the vehicles are distinct, and eccentric too (Naboo ships are just so pretty.)

So yeah, Nichols and Miller show much cleavage during the scenes where they are running around shouting “WE HAVE TO GET TO THE BASE BEFORE THE TERRORISTS FIRE THE ROCKETS!” or “WE HAVE TO FIRE THE ROCKETS BEFORE THE JOES GET TO THE BASE!”, so I can imagine they will be popular with the millions of pubescent boys in the audience, but even though this is the usual shit, G.I. Joe is far less objectionable than Transformers 2. The leatherclad ladies of Joe are at least given personalities of a sort, and do stuff to further the plot, unlike Megan Fox in Bay’s movie. Plus, there aren’t two robots called Step and Fetchit or whatever they were called. So Joe has that on it’s side, and I’m sort of grateful for it. This belongs in the “Good Things” list, FYI.

Things I wasn’t sure about in Sloppy Joe: That’s So Cobra!:

  • Midway through the movie, in Snake Eyes’ flashback — which, if I recall correctly, starts with the same “looking into the distance” thing even though Snake Eyes’ eyes are hidden behind a bulbous visor — we’re treated to the sight of two twelve-year olds kicking the shit out of each other, kung fu style. I really don’t know whether that was sick genius or deeply fucked up.
  •  

  • I was thrilled to see two of the most respected actors of their respective generations clad in silly masks or poorly animated metal heads walking around their submarine base and intoning dread words of purest evil. It was even better when they got captured two seconds after reaching their pinnacle of superevil, and then hastily shoved away in a hi-tech prison the end. Even with the SHOCK CODA that is utterly unshocking, it felt like Sommers just got bored of his toys and put them down to go and play Dropzone on his Commodore 64. By then, I knew how he felt. That it is left open for a sequel with shameless desperation just ruined my day. Probably because I know I’ll see the damnable thing as well.


Luckily for Sommers, this has probably been my worst ever week for movies, what with Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li giving X-Men Origins: Wolverine a run for its money as worst film of the year. As a result I think better of G.I. Joe than I usually would, but it’s still shit, because Stephen Sommers is a terrible filmmaker, and even if you get Stuart “Collateral” Beattie to script it, Sommers will still do his best to wreck it in the name of improvement.

I’ve said this before elsewhere, but it sums up why I don’t like his movies, so I have to repeat it. When I was a kid, I hated when action movies would feature talking and boring stuff when they should surely just have wall-to-wall action. Now that I’m older I look back on those movies and feel deeply ashamed for doubting the wisdom of the directors. For example, I’m currently rewatching and loving a lot of Walter Hill movies, and those long, action-free passages are more thrilling than most action movies made in the last ten years because Hill’s approach, imbuing his films with unapologetic machismo, raises tension levels through the roof. Sommers, on the other hand, has only one setting: GO JOES GO! It’s too much and not enough, simultaneously.

¹ Sadly operating in Dungeons-and-Dragons mode, not Requiem-For-A-Dream mode.

² “I’ve finally killed you, Cobra Commander, after an epic two-hour battle!”
“Ah hah! Your bullet was deflected by my armour again. Now we shall fight to the death once more!” Etc.

³ The use of the term “Joes” to describe the soldiers causes much unintentional laughter, though it’s an uncomfortable laugh when it’s Dennis Quaid forced to talk about how “WE’RE GONNA GET ALL OUR JOES BACK!” I was hoping that, if he got some bad news from Ripcord or Duke, he’d growl, “SAY IT AIN’T SO, JOES!”

David Tennant 4evah?

Finally, the overlong Doctor Who poll has closed, and here are the results:

  • David Tennant: 5 (20%)
  • Peter Serafinowicz: 3 (12%)
  • David Caruso: 3 (12%)
  • Miss Jay from ANTM: 3 (12%)
  • Hunky Clive Owen: 2 (8%)
  • Knut the lovable polar bear: 2 (8%)
  • Ant and Dec: 1 (4%)
  • Jet Li: 1 (4%)
  • Ryan Seacrest: 1 (4%)
  • Adrian Pasdar: 1 (4%)
  • Fearne Cotton: 1 (4%)
  • Professor Richard Dawkins: 1 (4%)
  • Mandy Patinkin: 1 (4%)
  • Sarah Michelle Gellar: 0 (0%)
  • Ban-Ki Moon: 0 (0%)
  • The Nesbitt: 0 (0%)
  • Dame Judi Dench: 0 (0%)
  • Derren Brown: 0 (0%)
  • Ali Larter: 0 (0%)
  • Stephen Fry: 0 (0%)
  • So, it seems the microcosm of the internet that is the small but fragrant readership of this blog is happy with the current Doctor. After a foolish early period hating him in the role and longing for the return of Christopher “Integrity” Ecclestone I have to say that would indeed be a wonderful outcome, but I doubt it’s to be. The Beeb seem so eager to keep him on that they’ve shrunk a season order down to nothing just to accomodate him. If you’re immolating your show just to keep someone around, you might as well not bother. It’s only a matter of time before someone at the BBC wakes up and notices something is awry and hires someone else.

    As for Serafinowicz, a not too shabby showing, but perhaps his chances were damaged by his sketch show, which had about a 50:50 success rate. Happily, the good sketches were transcendentally good (especially Ringo’s Goldfinger, which is still making me laugh weeks later), and most were filled with great little details (getting George Lucas’ neck sac right was a particular triumph), but overall, it could have been better. I still think he would be a great Doctor, though. He’s energetic, not unattractive, and has a voice like a Satyr. And yes, I did consider rigging the poll so that he won, but my sense of decency won out in the end.

    The Mighty Caruso did well too, but then this blog has in the past been frequented by his fans and haters, so I expected some support, but the big surprise was Miss Jay’s strong showing (and yes, I know I’m desperately trying to make three votes seem like a big deal after complaining about the delusional mental state of air guitarists. Please bear with me during this self-indulgent display). She’s certainly got the miserablist attitude that the Doctor needs, but the Doctor tends to stick to one outfit, and Miss Jay would be in and out of high heels, leather skirts, and a vermillion feather boa every week. The BBC can’t afford a costume budget like that, so I can’t see it happening.

    I was wondering what would make people vote for some of the contenders and not others. No Dame Judi Dench? Surely she would be perfect. And no The Nesbitt? I guess that proves no one working at the Sun reads this blog, which is fine by me. But what of the others? I guess it has something to do with slash. Sci fi + internet = slash, after all, which means I can see why Hunky Clive Owen got a couple of votes (because who wouldn’t want to see HCO lip-locking with John Barrowman), but not Derren Brown. I mean yes, he’s a top-rocking brain-warping imp hero, but not hott by any standards (Sorry Canyon). Of course, the slash theory is sorely tested by the solitary and thoroughly unnerving vote for Fearne Cotton. Surely she’s the anti-sexxy, a yoof presenter so vapid she makes Cat Deeley look like Kate Adie. This is before we get into the votes for Knut the lovable polar bear, which I will attribute to his steely magnetism and rock-star charisma, and not the fanbase’s wish to see him getting it on with K-9.

    Anyway, many thanks to all who voted. I shall now contact Russell T. Davies, who is, I’m sure, waiting patiently for my call, to tell him to use Hypnotoad on Tennant to make sure he stays on the show. It was once his childhood dream to play the Doctor, and now it seems it will be his eternal damnation. Poor chap.

    Goldfinger!

    Peter Serafinowicz’s sketch show has been on for a few weeks now — as the Admiral explained earlier, our damnable semi-broken Sky+ box (the closest you can get to TiVo in this country) deleted the second episode on a whim (and yet has kept several movies the Admiral keeps trying to get me to watch even though I don’t want to — why have you turned against me so, Sky+ box?). We attempted to get the second episode from the equally-damnable-but-not-redeemably-awesome BBC iPlayer, but that failed too, and apparently it’s not worth repeating a brilliant sketch show when you can show Car Booty on an endless loop instead (I found out through hard experience that that show is not nearly as interesting as the title suggests).

    Anyway…the show is full of very funny sketches (amid a few real clunkers) and tons of brilliant impressions, including Michael Caine, Kevin Spacey (couldn’t find any YouTube clips, I’m afraid, though this is a pretty meta impression, as Spacey is a genius impressionist himself) and Alan Alda, the latter so eerily accurate it’s not even really funny so much as like actually listening to Alan Alda. If you’re not in the UK, it’s definitely worth seeking out (though it’s hard to find whole episodes online, there are quite a few sketches on YouTube — the Butterfield and Darth Vader sketches are particularly worth watching).

    During the latest episode, there was a song parody that made the Admiral laugh so hard that his forehead turned red and some scary veins stood out on his temple. Come to think of it, he may have been having a stroke. I give you Ringo Starr’s “Goldfinger”:

    And speaking of excellent song parodies, I can’t go without mentioning Chris Morris’s dead-on Jarvis Cocker impression. If you, like me, were largely ignorant of Pulp, because your pathetically inept musical education in the mid-90s consisted of hastily learning the lyrics to “Motown Philly” so you could know a “cool” band’s songs, I invite you to watch this video of the insanely catchy and altogether wonderful “Common People”, to know and love Jarvis Cocker like a proper British muso.

    So now you’re familiar with Jarvis Cocker’s strangely charming Elaine Benes-esque dancing, as well as his propensity for overly literal hand gestures (the fallback of many a bad male dancer) and writhing around in large novelty shopping carts. But though it seems impossible to love anyone more than Jarvis Cocker after that, I give you Chris Morris’s parody from Brass Eye, a groundbreaking news-parody show. If you don’t know who Myra Hindley is, Wikipedia is happy to provide you with some of their usual conspiracy-theory-based liberal claptrap.

    Come back, Chris Morris, and we’ll even forgive you Nathan Barley. Not the part where a cat got a pair of scissors stuck in its head, though. Thanks for searing that image into my brain for the next 50 years. If you’re not satisfied with that Pulp reimagining, though, I leave you with the unholy alliance of William Shatner, Ben Folds, and Joe Jackson. You’re welcome.

    This Week in TV: Week 2

    Due to foreseen circumstances (i.e. birthday celebrations) we didn’t get to watch much of this weeks TV until Saturday night, since when we have plowed through every show of the week. I tell you, watching that much TV in such a short space of time is a really bad idea, and we ended up suffering from opinion overload. What’s worse, that block of TV featured the season premieres of the second seasons of our two favourite new shows of the previous year, namely Friday Night Lights and 30 Rock. Would they continue their winning streak, or would they fall apart horribly, perhaps with some really ill-advised murder plotline? As well as those worry-fests, there was lots of second episodes, some good, some bad, some just disappointing.

    I’ll get the quick stuff out of the way before going into enormous detail about why I didn’t think Pushing Daisies had anywhere near as good a pilot as Reaper, which may take a while, and will contain the phrase, “Ban Sonnenfeld!” The pilot of Dirty Stupid Monkey was promising enough , but episode two was a hellish 45 minutes of non-jokes telegraphed by wacky and intrusive musical stings, obnoxious characters, and pointless over-editing. If we had a sin-bin for shows that are on their last legs, this would be in it, even though it’s early days and we really do like to be as fair as we can. It was significantly less interesting than the pilot, and the only point we could make about it by the end was that Zoe McClellan, who plays Krause’s wife Lisa George, has the most photographed boobs of the week, and that includes Sonya “Pregnant me up!” Walger’s prominent and mostly-naked embonpoint in Tell Me You Something Something. We counted about a dozen close-ups of McClellan’s chestonics, none of which served any purpose. Much like the show itself. Improve, stupid show! And soon!

    Also, minus points to Chuck. Apologies to the Chuck fan that frequents this blog (you know who you are, dude), but this show is on notice too. For God’s sake, it has Adam Baldwin and a severely under-used Tony Todd! It should kick at least a little ass, but it has no recognisable point. The jokes are almost there, but the action is sorely lacking. The final five minutes were especially bad, with a poorly shot and ineptly looped helicopter landing scene that reminded me of the camcorder spoof scene in the first episode of The Day Today.

    I gather the third episode sets the format in stone, and perhaps that will be enough to give it a reprieve, but it needs to conjure up some really memorable moments (so far the only thing that has stood out for me is the free-running stuff, but that goes without saying), as well as generate some chemistry between any of the actors. Everyone is helped by Baldwin’s presence, because he’s a class act, but otherwise no one seems capable of breathing life into the project. Contrast that with Reaper, coming off the second excellent episode. The cast works so well together (and with such witty material) I can only imagine the Chuck staff are eating their livers in frustration. Let’s hope they can save it. Perhaps they should cast Ray Wise. I could stand to see two shows a week with this grin all over it.


    Again, everything in Reaper was great, and I see Kevin Smith is still present; he’s listed as consultant. A lot of people are saying they were a little disappointed with the second episode, but I thought it almost as strong as the pilot. I guess it helps that I find Tyler Labine hilarious.

    Another show suffering from terrible doldrums is Heroes, with another weak episode full of bland exposition, illogicality, and general inept silliness. I’m sure billions of word-bullets have been fired at the internet about Hiro’s boring Japanese adventures, and the Hoirish Ghangsterrrs (a subplot so moronic I think I’m dreaming whenever it comes on), and Noah working in retail (with Chuck and Reaper already covering this territory, I can’t help but feel that some executives think dramatising the service economy is what the people have been crying out for. Hey, executives? No no no no no!). I’ll just say this, and then move on; showrunners, for a long time there we thought you had an awesome concrete storytelling plan, but the finale ruined that. Our trust in you has been badly damaged, and this season needs to make up ground, and quickly. By this we don’t mean turning Maya and Thingy into the plague threat of the season. 24 has already cycled through nuclear and plague threats. Do something new. Please start surprising us again, or you go on notice too. Oh, and stop making Peter do this face.


    I had hoped we’d seen the last of his weird Duh face. It’s not a good look for him, and you can’t write that out like you did those horrendous bangs. Also wrongheaded was Bionical Woman, which is setting a format in stone early (too early; it’s been awfully rushed so far), by having Jaime join up with Miguel Ferrer’s shady organisation. This week featured the TV week’s worst line, as Ferrer blackmails Jaime into joining up by saying, “Those legs, that arm, that ear and that eye all belong to me and they cost $50m dollars.” Whoever wrote that gets a cookie.

    The horror has been well documented here, but there was also an egregious mistake I can’t believe they let go, and by that I don’t mean hiring the homophobe from Grey’s Anatomy. The plot centres around a nerve gas attack on a town called Paradise (hence the episode title; Paradise Lost. Because Jaime’s easy life has been lost, you see? LOST!). Jaime joins up with SORBMF (Shady Organisation Run By Miguel Ferrer), and undergoes three days of hardcore montage training, before overhearing that Paradise has been attacked. She volunteers, she goes there with Grumpy SORBMF Operative #2, and they find a girl who had been in a basement overnight and thus, improbably, survived the gas. So, the attack happened the day before. So why is it that at the start of the show, before Jaime is drafted into SORBMF, she is in a bar with a TV saying that Paradise has been quarantined? That happens three or four days before she gets there. Either I’m missing something there, or that is a shocking continuity error. Okay, plus points to the show for hiring Friday Night Lights‘ Kevin “Herc” Rankin as a tech nerd, but otherwise, BIG FAT BLEH!

    Two shows surprised me this week. The latest installment of Tell Me You Love Me Even Though I Won’t Have Sex/Babies/Relationships With You was just as humourless and earnest and one-note as the rest of the season, but at last we get to see the some of the characters reveal their inner thoughts in some detail, instead of just making gestures. For weeks now David has been refusing to have sex with his wife Katie, as well as being bitchy about her attending therapy, all the while gurning his way into Guptahood. This week he redeemed himself in a long therapy scene where he and Katie threw little bombs of discontent at each other. It was a strong scene, certainly the most interesting thing that’s happened so far, and well acted by Ally Walker and Tim DeKay. We also found out that Palek the Vulcan Inseminatron has been having second, third, fourth, and fifth thoughts about impregnating his wife Carolyn, whose desperate need for a baby went beyond mere mom pangs and into psychotic screechy territory, ripping towel dispensers off walls and haranguing Palek at work. The DavidGupta is dead. Long live the CarolynGupta. My God, woman, if you want a baby so badly, there’s someone we know who might be able to help you out.

    Also surprisingly okay was Journeyman. It’s nothing groundbreaking, but Canyon and I had fun trying to figure out the ramifications of his powers. Having his wife start to believe him was a great touch, and if they could start to introducing the other characters into his circle of trust, there could be some interesting stories to tell. It helps that Kevin McKidd plays our hero, Dan Vassar. As Canyon said over the weekend, Dan is a very sensitive character, obviously empathic and eager to help his retro charges, and yet McKidd was cast, with his cauliflower face and heavy build. The disconnect between his look and his character is very appealing. It’s not the best show around at the moment, but it’s the show I enjoyed most from NBC’s Monday Night Nerdery line-up, and I would like to see it survive the chop, though I doubt that will happen.

    We also enjoyed the second episode of House, with our anti-hero testing out several new Cottage candidates, including Kal Penn, Olivia Wilde, Anne Dudek, and best of all, Carmen Argenziano as a fake doctor who impresses House enough to get hired as an assistant. The Office was good too, though please let the hour-longs end soon. The pilot was mostly superb, but the second episode really overstayed its welcome. Creed was perfect, as always, but Michael got a little wearing by the end. Consider this a tiny criticism; the show was still vastly entertaining.

    Funniest moment of the week (for me at least) was Peter Serafinowicz as robotic daytime chatshow host Michael-6 from his new sketch show. It has been established that we are big fans of the man behind That Voice, and were looking forward to his first shot at the spotlight. Mostly it was great, with only a couple of sketches falling short (Clone House! We get it! Please stop now!), but my god, Michael-6 rendered me useless, wheezing and coughing, totally dumbstruck by the brilliance of it. The moment he went on a rampage, throttling audience members and spitting milk like Ian Holm in Alien, was one of the highlights of the week. More please.


    Also great was CSI, even though it signalled the beginning of the end of Jorja Fox’s run on the show. Turns out the contract wrangles that almost got her and George Eads thrown off the show years ago finally bit her in the ass, though she doesn’t sound too upset about it. It’s a shame, as we’ve liked Sara (we like everyone on the show, and were delighted to see Wallace “Hodges” Langham finally included in this week’s credits), even though her arms are unusually long.


    The rest of the episode was fun enough, with the only other big surprise being Warwick’s divorce (signposted with traditional CSI: Classic economy with nothing more than a line about divorce being a bitch). Best of all, it ends with a wonderful scene showing the assembled cast members racing around on a go-kart track with Sara watching from the sidelines. Touching and funny, and all done with elegance and liveliness (as a bonus, Nick calls Gil “Ricky Bobby”. YES!). The quality of this show is outstanding, and no one notices because it’s a popular procedural and therefore cannot be considered good TV. Screw that. It’s great, and it features awesome hats. Eat that, snobbish critics.


    30 Rock returned, and as The AV Club pointed out, it was slightly off, but nonetheless featured some big laughs and some obnoxious Bee Movie plugs (hopefully the movie will be good enough to retroactively forgive it for making 30 Rock seem like an advert). Odd that the show went for the fat suit gag, just like Ugly Betty the previous week; hopefully that gets dropped soon, because it just isn’t that funny. No matter. Everything else was great, especially the countries that only rich people know about, Jack’s agonised reaction to the mention of Lost being on another network, and his summer schedule of terrible reality shows, including MILF Island.

    Friday Night Lights also returned with a second season at once desperately needed (more TV of this outrageous quality is always welcome) and totally superfluous (the first season was a perfect gem that didn’t really need any expansion). I will quickly touch on the deeply troubling Tyra/Landry plot (I’ll try not to spoil all you lucky folk who have yet to see the show), because really, this has got to get a LOT better before it totally ruins everything.


    FNL fans everywhere are freaking out about this plot, which worked well as a one off thing in the first season (I gushed about it here), but now threatens to destroy one of the show’s best characters (Canyon is working on a Standing in the Shadows for Landry that hopefully won’t be rendered defunct by this horrible twist). Alan Sepinwall, in his excellent blog What Alan’s Watching, says that things do not get better, and interviews Jason Katims, whose responses to the criticism are kind of obnoxious, but there is one good thing that can come out of it. If the absolutely awesome Jesse Plemons gets a career-making showreel out of this plot development, at least we’ll have that. His performance (and that of Adrianne Palicki as Tyra) was excellent. As was everything else in the first episode. And hey, Chris Mulkey is the new Panthers coach. What with Ray Wise on Reaper and Miguel Ferrer in The Woman Who Is Bionical, this season is like a big shiny present to all of us Twin Peaks fans.

    Of course, the big premiere of the week was Pushing Daisies, by Wonderfalls/Dead Like Me creator (and Heroes staffer) Bryan Fuller, and the weight of the world was on its shoulders. Lauded by critics since its appearance at ShoWest, it has been praised as the sole repository of originality in an otherwise dull new season, and the next big thing (if the audience can swallow it). Being cynical, I was wary, but the pilot did make me laugh quite a bit, and the cast were very likeable, especially Chi McBride as Emerson Cod (and hey, a small role for Repo Man actor Sy Richardson!).

    However, I’ve got big problems with it. Firstly, original? Torchwood featured a Resurrection Glove that brought corpses back to life for 30 seconds (or a minute; I was staving off overwhelming ennui every time I watched the show, so I could be wrong).


    In that, it was also used to find out who killed the person being resurrected. I can imagine that’s the logical way to go once you come up with the concept of a Resurrection Glove/Pie-Maker, but still, it’s a bit too close for comfort. Canyon pointed out that Torchwood creator Russell T. Davies did rip off Philip Pullman’s The Amber Spyglass almost completely during the Doctor Who season two finale, so he can’t really complain about plagiarism. Tru Calling creator Jon Harmon Feldman could, though.

    Secondly, Barry Sonnenfeld was once a magnificent Director of Photography. His work on the Coen’s early movies blew me away when I was younger, and he did strong work with Rob Reiner on When Harry Met Sally and Misery. Then he became a director with an extremely limited bag of tricks ripped off from his time on Raising Arizona, mostly involving dollying into something to express emphasis, fish-eye lenses, lots of attention-seeking POV, and pointless overhead shots. I greatly enjoyed Men in Black (mostly due to Ed Solomon’s co-scripting and the excellent chemistry between the leads) and Get Shorty (where Sonnenfeld reined in some of the excess, though sadly not all), but everything else he has done is average-to-horrible. His TV adaptation of Ben Edlund’s awesome The Tick was rendered almost unwatchable with his heightened reality shtick, and sadly he’s brought even more of that to the table with Pushing Daisies.


    In a 42 minute long show, he had at least 34 emphasis dollies, 11 overhead shots, and POV every five minutes (yes, I actually counted). It blighted the show to such an extent that I even forgot to be annoyed by the cloying narration. I may have enjoyed some of Tim Burton’s early work, and I might have even liked Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, both of which were stylistically very similar to Pushing Daisies, but that knowing fairy-tale style gets old real quick, and the show was utterly hamstrung by it.

    By comparison, the over-directing in Ugly Betty annoys me not a jot. In fact, I think it’s one of the best directed shows on TV, even though it too is garish and overdone and often very silly. Perhaps it works because the tricks are used with a lot more restraint, occasionally settling down to just let the scene breathe for a few minutes. Plus, the show might not be the acme of bitchery that it thinks it is, but some of the saltiness of the show does keep the sugariness at bay. Each week there is a battle between the two tones, and it almost always maintains a happy equilibrium. (This week was excellent too, with Vanessa Williams rocking the house down. She wuz robbed at the Emmys!)


    I will admit, the love story between Chuck and Ned charmed me, and the final scene with them holding their own hands whilst looking at each other made me cry a little, but only when Sonnenfeld hands over the megaphone (reportedly midway through the third episode) will I relax and assess the show without a red mist of rage descending every time the camera whooshes towards someone wearing an expression of surprise.

    Oh, and third strike against the show; if Ned’s touch can kill Chuck, can the directors please ensure they keep the two of them as far apart as possible? Whenever they’re onscreen together I’m stupidly terrified Ned will trip over something and accidentally kill her. The scene where they smashed the monkey sculptures together almost gave me a heart attack. This might prove to be the one thing that ruins the show for me altogether; the fear that a mistake will kill her. I know it won’t (the show wouldn’t survive it, after all), but I was agitated for a long section of the first episode. Reaper‘s pilot was a much more relaxing and enjoyable first hour, and Kevin Smith, Michele Fazekas and Tara Butters are to be commended. They win a Caruso award for Best New Show! It means nothing, but they’ve won it! Yay showrunners! Keep it up!

    Just what the net needs, another doomed campaign

    A few weeks ago I randomly mentioned a comedic actor’s name in conjunction with the role of The Doctor, and it seemed to make people very happy. At first I was just being silly, but as time has worn on, I see now that it would in fact be the best thing to happen ever. Better than wiping out smallpox, even. So, the campaign starts here. The campaign to get Peter Serafinowicz cast as The Doctor!

    He’s got nerd credentials (Shaun of the Dead), can do dramatic (voicing Darth Maul counts, in my head), and the ladies seem to like him too. That said, I won’t actually be doing anything to help the campaign along. I’ll just think really hard about it. That’s how it works, right? Anyone who’s read The Secret probably knows more about this than me.