Update: Masters of Horror

A few days ago, I provided a tepid review of the Masters of Horror television series on Showtime. I stand by that post. However, I just watched Joe Dante's second season entry, "The Screwfly Solution", and must say it bordered on genius. In fact, I'd say it was fantastic until the surprise ending, which--though cool and appropriate for the genre--sort of demoted the movie into just another SF narrative. For most episodes, that would be step up. But Dante is showing that maybe the limitations of the small screen are just what he needs. His first season show "Homecoming" is still the best so far.

His latest episode did include the single creepiest image in the entire series: A billboard of a woman in a bathing suit vandalized to look like she's wearing a burka. In the context of the plot, it was shocking in that it's not entirely unbelievable for our red state brothers.

Finally, if the masters are too scary for you, check this: The Amateurs of Horror and their tale of Douglas the Zombie.

Masters of Horror

I've been a fan of horror movies since I crept downstairs to watch Fantastic Voyage on my family's new color TV at the age of six. From that time on, I would watch anything, as long it was supposed to be scary or weird or gross. It's been a habit that's hard to break.

Showtime's Master of Horror series would seem to be right up my ally: A-list horror directors allowed to direct whatever they wanted with no restrictions. Except most aren't A-list directors. And there are restrictions. And most were only OK. So what went wrong?

Most of these guys are--unfortunately--past their prime. It happens to everyone. But those who work in the horror genre get hit especially hard. The empathy that comes with age really fucks with one's ability to be transgressive. For example, how many adults hit frogs with baseball bats? Why it that? Now you know why Land of the Dead lacks the bite of Dawn of the Dead.

Most of these guys need restrictions--of time, of budget, of talent--to be creative. Their best work lives in the cracks and subtext of their material. When you can do and show any and every thing, the mystery evaporates.

It is virtually impossible to be scary in one hour. Horror requires rhythm. Establishing rhythm in a hour takes a level of narrative skill these guys just don't have.

Still, some of these master still have the horror in them. Joe Dante's zombie satire Homecoming transcends as both a movie and political rant. Dario Argento heads into psychosexual territory, but ultimately pulls his punches in Jenifer. And Don Coscarelli of Phantasm fame almost hits a homerun with Incident on and off and Mountain Road--but monster design sinks this one fast.

The six-year-old in me hasn't given up. The 44-year-old, on the other hand, is keeping one finger on the remote.

BTW, one thing Masters of Horror does extremely well is start each episode with this inventive and creepy intro.

Are You Gay? Take the Little Britain Test

The Sopranos

I've been reluctant to add my voice to the endless--and it really seems to be endless--bitching and backslapping around the last episode of HBO's The Sopranos. But who can resist?

I fall firmly into the backslapping category; however, it had to grow on me. At first, the looooong blackout had me thinking the cat sat on the remote and turned TiVo off. But after a good night's sleep I began to understand its genius.

The show itself was intense yet oddly meandering, sublime and perfectly ordinary. Doesn't it make perfect sense that the last few minutes of the series would be all of those things, all at once? To be as ambivalent as any of the characters, plots, or themes?

As for the bitchers, let's chalk it up to rabid, loving fandom. I've seen fanboys throwdown over Star Trek vs. Star Wars. This is no different. Lame, true; but no different.

For the best example of this, read Tony Hendra's review at HuffPo. Clueless and weirdly antagonistic. If he felt like the guy at the party no one talks to, that should be his first clue. For added fun, read the comments to his post. My fav:

I agree. Everything I heard about the Sopranos--killing, cussing, pseudo-psycho-analysis --so turned me off that I never watched a minute of any episode. In spite of being somewhat deprived of such a piece of pop culture, I don't regret it. Such art as this, that glorifies the basest sort of behavior, is little more than scrawlings on the walls of the commode that 40 years of right wing assault on our society have turned our culture into.

Yes, she never watched it. Brava!

Jazz Thursdays: Miles Davis (1964)

Kill eHarmony

I hate those eHarmony commercials so much, I'm willing to break my leg running for the mute button. Not only it is a Christian fundamentalist dating site--which sends shivers up my spine--but they actually ban gay people. And without even being honest about their bigotry. Here's a nice tonic.

Here He Comes

My second earliest gay memory happened when I was six. I loved Speed Racer. No, not that kind of love. I just really, really dug the show. I mean, what six-year-old doesn't want a car that can chop down trees and has a monkey in the trunk.? Plus, it's really easy to act out old-style anime. You only have to move one frame every couple of seconds or so. Easy!

But if Speed ruled, Racer X rocked. Tall, dark, handsome. Mysteriously edgey. Maybe even a bad guy. But, as the Shangri La's sang, he's good bad, but he's not evil. So, the whole gay thing: I remember one afternoon watching the cartoon like I always did. Racer X came on, so I naturally paid more attention. Then--and I'm smiling as I type this--he got into a glass-doored shower for a Brian DePalma steam special.

It was years before I had a name for what happened to me next.

There was never another moment like that in the entire series. I know. I looked. Now I've learned that those wacky Hollywood Wachowskis are putting together a live action Speed Racer movie. Insert gear shift joke here. Ahem.

Radio, Radio

Most of Elvis Costello's recent material is so lame that it's got folks reevaluating his previous work. Now, that's gotta suck. My advice: Listen to the old stuff and remember the first time you heard it. Junior high schooler, sitting in your bedroom, LP spinning in the dark, imagining that this strange man from England was going to save rock and roll. And maybe even your life. Enjoy.

Update: Here's the infamous, blisteringly ad hoc performance of "Radio, Radio" on Saturday Night Live in 1977. This is the one that had Lorne Michaels giving him the finger from the wings, and got Elvis banned from SNL for years to come.

Gay Assimilation: Good or Bad? Discuss

The news from Russia certainly makes me rethink my longing for the good old days of the gay subculture. It's easy to forget how bad it was, even as one remembers the parts that were engergizing and fun.

Don't get me wrong. I've always thought of myself as assimilated, even when it wasn't true. And even to the point of getting ultra-lefty activists pissed at my desire for ordinariness. But I always had the subculture to fall back on if things got too safe.

That's why Little Britain's Daffyd Thomas is a brilliant tonic. As "the only gay in the village", he reminds us that there is a certain comfort and stability to be found in victimhood. But enjoying it is very limiting--and only possible when you're not actually being beaten.

Veronica Mars: Gone, Not Forgotten

Veronica Mars was easily one the best shows on television. But the CW--a tragically shallow television network quickly losing its reason for being--seriously screwed up. They not only cancelled Veronica, but actually dumped the last two episodes on air, with no attempt to wrap up any of the outstanding storylines. Oh well.

I highly recommend Veronica's first season to almost anyone. Just be sure to have two full days free, because you won't want to stop watching once you start.

And if you ever miss our spunky detective too much, you can download your own Veronica for The Sims computer game. But don't be a perv.

(If you are a perv, you can also get Sims versions of the shirtless cowboys from Brokeback Mountain.)

The Ultimate Dynasty Catfight...in French

Jazz Thursdays: Dave Brubeck Quartet (1961)

"She's Not Nearly Half the Girl She...Ow"

I'm not a big Broadway musical fan, but Buffy can convince me of anything. This clip won't mean anything to un-fans of the show. But for everyone else, I won't need to convince you of its genius.

Billy, Don't Be a Hero

Spent most of the day Saturday, ass firmly planted on the couch, watching SciFi's Heroes marathon. Heroes always seemed like the kind of show that a fanboy like yours truly would love. But the glimpses I got of it--the monochrome blue mise-en-scene, the television soap opera sameness, and, most importantly, it's popularity--just didn't pull me in.

After the marathon, I have to say my opinion hasn't radically changed. Heroes is an X-Men rip off with Lost-style quality and structure. It's definitely engaging and great to look at, but it's also a little pointless and a little drab and diluted.

On the up side, it had one of the most beautiful special effects shots I've ever seen anywhere, as a flying shirtless man lands in the desert outside a roadside diner in a cloud of backlit dust.

And it stars Greg Grunberg as a put-upon telepathic policeman. And he's cuteness incarnate. (Confession: I used to fast forward through Alias to get to his scenes.) Might be worth watching Heroes just to see him smile.

"It's a Little Monster Man!"

I'm a sucker for practical jokes that scare people. This little gem from an old episode of Scare Tactics makes me laugh just thinking about it. YouTube is genius.

Jazz Thursdays: Charles Mingus Live in Norway (1964)

The Simpson Maker

Use this nifty online tool to create your own Simpsons character. This is what your humble narrator looks like when he visits Springfield.

The Best SF of the Last 25 Years?

Entertainment Weekly has posted one of their interminable lists. This time: The Sci-Fi 25.

Of course, they get a lot of it wrong. There's no Max Headroom. No The Fly. And no Repo Man. No Primer. Even a sure thing like Robocop is missing. You know something's wrong when Quatum Leap fills in for Robocop. I'm just saying.

What's surprising is what they got right. Futurama, for instance. Or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. And while it may be a scientific fact that Blade Runner is the most important piece of visual SF art in the last 25 years, not too many fanboys are going to argue with The Matrix at #1.

Still, no Lost Room, or Babylon 5, or....