Deadly Furniture

This morning, my cat woke me up at seven o’clock in the morning. As I stared at him with more than a little disdain, my sleep-starved mind reminded me that the British were having a Royal Wedding today. Because my romantic and idealist side is hidden but not gone, I didn’t roll over and go back to sleep but instead picked up my cat and turned on the television in time to see William and Catherine walk out of the back chapel of Westminster Abbey. And then, because I am my mother’s daughter, I sat through the entire carriage ride back, the endless Today Show coverage of people pretending to say important things, the “Countdown to the Kiss(es)“ and, this one being the more embarrassing one, I even sat through the discussion with Phillipa Gregory (a historical fiction writer whose bibliography includes only horrible retellings of the lives of early English queens) about how the Duchess of Cambridge’s life would now change (I mean--Phillipa Gregory people. Really. Were Oxford and Cambridge out of historians?)

But I watched it all. And then, at two o’clock pm, I turned on the rerun and watched the entire wedding from its beginning. Who cares that I’d seen all the really relevant points in flashback montages? I watched as men and their hat dates all filed into Westminster, as everyone strained for a first look at Catherine’s dress, and I will gladly admit my eyes got a little misty as everyone sang “Jerusalem.” This is all very strange, as is the fact that millions of other Americans did the exact same thing as I did. She isn’t my princess and he’ll never be my king. America left all the pageantry and monarchy behind when a bunch of old white guys got together, sang some songs, and signed a document in 1776. But, there was something simple and delightful about watching two people, with two billion eyes on them, make some big and somewhat scary promises.

Everyone is going on and on about how this is a sign of hope, a celebration of the potential of the next years, a way for the Church of England to attract some people back into the fold, or a chance for the monarchy to make amends to its people for its past mistakes. A tall order for two young people who just want to get married. And, for all the pageantry, for all the songs, for all the tears, I am less than sure that the wedding accomplished any of these things completely and I doubt that the new princess or her husband set out with those goals in mind. I think they just wanted to get married. However, what the wedding did do was, for two hours, unite two billion people around an event that wasn’t a war, a riot, or a natural disaster. Instead, it was an act of sweet love and a moment of true happiness. As a global community, we haven’t gotten one of those lately. I’d kinda forgotten what they looked like. Who knew happiness came with so many hats?

I got two pages into a draft of a review of this episode and then realized that it was complete rubbish. Other’s have already written quite excellent recaps of “The Impossible Astronaut,” but even after two viewings I can’t quite wrap my head around it or be, in any way, rational enough about it to write a review about it. Instead, he’s a list of “my favorites” of the episode…which is really just an excuse to look up the brilliant words of Steven Moffat and put them all together in a blog post with this picture. (Note: If you haven't watched Doctor Who, or this episode. I would beg, beg, beg, BEG that you stop here and continue your day. This series is too good to be spoiled.)

Favorite ex-FBI agent: Canton Everett Delaware III for obvious reasons. And for being Mark Sheppard (we made eye contact once.)

Favorite Blast-From-The-Past: Rory knowing the appropriate way to bury and honor a lord, him being Roman and all.

Favorite Shivers-Up-My-Arms Moment: When River says “spoilers” and we, for the first time, know what they are.

Favorite Funny Line: “Just popped out to get my special straw. It adds more fizz.”

Favorite Doctor Moment: The Doctor refusing to go to 1969 because he knows his companions aren‘t telling him something very, very important. And in that moment, he hates the a little and we get a glimpse of the Doctor as Time Lord. “What? A mysterious summons? You think I'm just going to go? Who sent those messages? I know you know. I can see it in your faces. Don't play games with me. Don't play games with me. Don't ever, ever think you're capable of that.”

Favorite “I Am Now A Fan Of This Relationship” Moment: “Doctor: Doctor Song, you've got that face on again.” “River: What face?” “Doctor: The ‘he’s hot when he’s clever’ face.” “River: This is my normal face.” “Doctor: Yes it is.” “River: Oh, shut up.” “The Doctor: Not a chance.”

Favorite “Don’t Cry. Don’t Cry. Don’t Cry” Moment (besides the obvious): River’s monologue about loss to Rory. The best part being, “Every time we meet I know him more, he knows me less. I live for the days when I see him. But I know that every time I do he'll be one step further away. The day's coming when I'll look into that man's eyes—my Doctor—and he won't have the faintest idea who I am. And I think it's going to kill me.”

Favorite Unanswered Stuff: What is with Abigail’s song from “A Christmas Carol”?

I don’t know what to say about this one folks.

In theory, Jericho and I should get along. I’m all about the dystopias, the scary exploration about what happens after the world-as-we-know-it ends. I love books that explore redefining a new normal and television shows that prove episode after episode the growing pains of a reality. Jericho was a show that was designed with me in mind, and if you compare the figures we should have been an excellent arranged marriage.

Ten minutes into the pilot of Jericho, the title town’s inhabitants’ world is literally rocked when off in the not-to-far distance a mushroom cloud looms. Everything that could possibly go wrong after such an event immediately does so. A school bus hits a crazed deer (yes, you read that right), Jake (our main character and Ioan Gruffudd look-alike) is hit by a distracted driver and gets the predicted concussion, the power goes out and our townsfolk begin to fight over gas to fill their Ford trucks (to be honest, I would have gone for the food first but hey, I’m crazy), highly dangerous prisoners escape from a bus and kill the sheriff, a power struggle at the top promises to affect a future episode, and there’s this mysterious Hawkins guy who knows exactly what to do. By the end of the episode, Ioan Gruffudd look-alike saves the day and everyone finally figures out that all the other big cities in the United States have been attacked as well. All of this leads up to the expected “We are Jericho. We will band together and face the day!” ending speech with the sweeping music and the father-son bonding. End scene.

The fact that this all happens in forty minutes (strangely two-minutes short of the normal drama length) either gives off the idea that CBS wanted more advertising space or that the editors realized what a stereotypical mess the pilot had become and just wanted it to be over already. Because in the end, this is exactly how you would expect a pilot of a post-nuclear television show to go, and therein lies the problem. Jericho is exactly “normal.” This story has been written before, filmed before, heck, I’ve played this video game, and all of these predecessors have been better written and acted.

As the credits rolled over some fake-looking dead crows, I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. We were supposed to be perfect for each other Jericho! You were going to fill the emptiness that Firefly and Battlestar Galactica have left in my heart. I mean, when it looked like you weren’t going to get renewed, fan efforts that rival Firefly’s forced CBS to give in and produce seven more episodes. Tragedy on and off screen?! What more could I ask for?

A little bit of imagination. A little bit of thinking outside the box. Of writing a plot that wasn’t so linear and straightforward, of directing that wasn’t so melodramatic and “the girl is DEAD! DEAD I TELL YOU! Oh what a world,” a little bit of creativity when it came to editing the thing together, an actor or two that could say a line convincingly besides the deaf girl. Without this, it doesn’t matter that I’m a post-apocalypse geek, a science fiction gamer, a perfect match: it’s just not going to work out between us.

Series to Watch: Battlestar Galactica

Unless you are very, very lucky (read: M*A*S*H), every show eventually reaches a point where it just needs to die. In some cases, actors trying to make it big in the movies results in a somewhat failed re-imagining/introduction of new characters. On one level this works, but it ultimately leaves you yearning for the good ol’ days and wishing the show had never been tarnished past recognition (read: The X-Files and The West Wing). Other shows just run out of steam and slowly begin to self-implode until viewers watch it more out of a sense of obligation than out of any real enjoyment (read: The Office).

So it is with 30 Rock. While it’s lead-in The Office has rallied this year after the realization that their lead is about to leave them forever/until the series finale (so look for him next spring) and they are more than likely doomed, 30 Rock has slowly drifted into a state of pure sleep-inducing nothingness. Harsh? I don’t think so. Everything about the show either has a sense of staleness or a forced humor/stunt casting that has managed to make even the announced inclusion of Tom Hanks yawn-worthy. And we all know how much I love me my Tom Hanks.

But what about the one-liners? They’re what 30 Rock is all about Rebecca! Sure, every so often there’s a good joke here and there but these moments are becoming fewer and farther in-between. Compare them to the snappy dialogue of Community or the genius that Parks and Recreation has become and they’re small stuff. But, you may say, this is Liz Lemon we’re talking about! We love her! But do we anymore? Sure, Tina Fey is great and I loved her characterization of Liz Lemon back in 30 Rock’s glory days, but now it’s all just “been here, done that.” Eventually, I want my characters to grow at least a little and Liz Lemon has instead gone backwards until all she is anymore is an unhappy, single woman who works a lot and makes an avoidable mess of her personal life. Alec Baldwin is great but besides the birth of a daughter (right, remember that happened? Don’t worry, she might be back for the finale. Or at least get mentioned. Look for a picture.) there’s nothing that’s really there for me anymore. Kenneth has only grown more and more disturbing as the jokes have grown less funny, to be truthful I’ve never liked Tracy Jordan/Morgan/too bored even to look up which one is his real name, and don’t even get me started on the horror show that is Jenna’s weird thing with SNL guy (I shudder even when I think about it.)

Needless to say, as a fan of the show when it was good, all I can hope is that Wesley Snipes (Michael Sheen) will ride in on his foot cycle and the two settling-soul mates will realize that they’re actually more than that. Alec Baldwin can finally remember he has a child, Kenneth will graduate beyond page, Jenna and Tracy will disappear, and we can end the series with at least a little dignity.

Will it happen? Never. This show (for reasons beyond me) is still getting nominated for awards (although we can all agree that this year is Steve’s or Hollywood has no soul. Oh wait….) while Community/Parks and Recreation and other very deserving comedies are left with little to no love. Even if Baldwin leaves the show, we all know they’ll just try to fill the emptiness with some other big-name actor. Or maybe they’ll learn their lesson from the horribleness that The Office is about to become. Somehow I doubt it.

Note: I’m not saying all the episodes this season have been terrible. “Double Edged Sword” was actually terrific. But nothing before/since has even come close to living up to it. That’s a problem.

There are some television shows that I feel like we all, in our lifetimes, must one day watch. For example, I always knew that someday I would sit down and watch the entire series of The X-Files because...well...because it's just one of those shows that all science-fiction/television fans need to watch. Cheers is another one of those shows. It's a show that everyone can sing the theme song of, that most people know at least one character from, and that still gets listed at least once in every websites slideshow of "best comedy."

So I sat down to watch the pilot episode of Cheers. I don't really know what I was expecting from "Give Me A Ring Sometime" but I don't think I expected what the episode was. I remember watching some of Cheers with my dad and siblings but, kinda like The X-Files, I remember absolutely nothing of any plot besides,"Right. That's Sam. And Diane is a waitress. And Norm drinks a lot. And Fraiser shows up at some point." So I guess I thought that it would just be a comedy about a lot of people that hung out in a bar. And that's essential what the pilot of Cheers is, but in the sort of way that M*A*S*H is about a bunch of doctors that work together during the Korean War.

The basic plot of the pilot is that Diane (Shelley Long) shows up with her boss/fiancé at Sam's (Ted Danson) bar, only to have her boss/fiancé abandon her there and fly off into the sunset with his ex-wife. Sam, being the wise/sad bartender that he is, pretty much knows from square one that this marriage ain't happening, and deep down Diane knows it as well. But as she waits, the regulars at Cheers all come in for drinks and the beginnings of friendship occurs as they all witness the end of Diane's hopes and dreams.

Cheers is quite obviously that mixture of happy/sad that I love so much in my television shows. Every character is strikingly messed up. Sam, for example, was on the brink of making it big in baseball before alcoholism pretty much ruined it. Sober for three years, he know owns and operates a bar he bought when he was drunk--every day it acts as a constant reminder of how much he could have had and how much he lost. But all of this drama is delivered with such comedic timing that, despite all the rather depressing stuff that gets said and done in "Give Me A Ring Sometime," you leave the episode feeling uplifted. Every character has their own comedic characteristics, their own smart one liners, and Ted Danson can actually be quite funny (which shocked me after seeing one episode of Becker.)

I thought watching Cheers was going to be like paying my dues to television, a sacrifice so that I could be a more informed television viewer. But, like what happened with The X-Files, I think I'm going to enjoy this show.