Nick totally guilted me into writing about this. I compromised with myself, and did only the first 30 minutes of the show because staying up for Jamie Foxx just wasn’t an option.
So Jay’s second term as host of The Tonight Show (or is this episode 3,776 or volume 2 episode 1? I don’t even know) kicks off with a Wizard of Oz skit wherein Jay wakes up from the nightmare of having hosted another show at 10pm in a sepia-tinted world. He does the whole “You were there!” thing with Eubanks and the pudgy homosexual intern whose name I can’t remember and don’t really care enough to look up, but takes a jab at his announcer who didn’t go to The Jay Leno Show with him.
And then, probably in an effort to save the skit from being totally inane, Betty White shows up, commenting that NBC must’ve really cut his budget. I’m on the Betty White bandwagon as much as the next person who really hasn’t seen a Golden Girls episode in years, didn’t watch The Proposal but does love her work on Boston Legal, but subjecting her to embarrassment of being in that skit just isn’t kosher. She deserves better. (And so do we.)Read more »
“Geez. This unlucky guy’s about to get double dead.”
I get it that you kids are starting something up but pull it together. At least wait until your boss stops talking to you.
Last time we met, we had a situation where people protested the ending of “Chuck vs The Mask,” insisting that the show violated the trust of the audience by separating the perpetually almost-couple Chuck and Sarah. “No! They can’t be okay that they’re apart! They love each other! Why can’t they just be together?” Good thing these kids weren’t around for Ross and Rachel (or worse, Maddie and David). Three weeks the fans waited through what NBC termed a reset (to erase the sentiment against the network for what happened in late-night) as the writers and producers did damage control. “Just wait. It’ll be worth it. Trust us.” So we waited.
The thing is, I thought giving Chuck and Sarah some time apart was a good move. Not only did it give a realistic obstacle to continue the tension but giving them someone else to devote their attentions to opened the door to new dramatic paths. So I sat down to watch “Chuck vs The Fake Name” to see what the writers would do with their new playground.
“I may not be a planner, or a detail man, or a tax payer. But when push comes to shove I work and I get the job done. Now follow me back in there and let’s blow these guys’ minds. Scanners-style.”
“Check this out. Not only is it juvenile but just a tad creepy. Gum Giraffe! Ha! Like that Fruit Stripes gum. Or was that a zebra? Doesn’t matter. It fulfilled my ’80s Nostalgia Quota for this scene.”
I hate it when Shawn is in a slump.
I mean, it’s great characterization. The writers do a good job of sticking with Shawn’s quirks when he’s not as accurate and James Roday does an amazing job being the most annoying person on the planet. But it’s hard to watch Shawn try so desperately to make up for his lack of sharpness, partly with his half-hearted “visions” but mostly with his inappropriate joke-cracking. There have been several times this season where he has been all over the map (“You Can’t Handle This Episode” and, notably, “Shawn has the Yips”) but never have I wanted to walk out of the room so often out of sheer embarrassment than during this episode.
The most-offending scene is the one with the initial meeting of the think tank minds. This episode has Shawn and Gus taking jobs in private security to help protect a billionaire from suspected assassination, an opportunity Shawn leaps at despite his “powers” being restricted to clues he can pick up on in real-life scenarios. Conjecture in a sterile room puts Shawn at a serious disadvantage. So not only is he suffering from a slump threading through several episodes but he is also completely clueless without a real-life situation to be a part of. So, while the other members of the think tank bandy about ideas of how to better secure the asset, Shawn makes sculptures out of Big League Chew, tries to prove his psychic ability with simple observations about people in the room, and cracks wise to an audience not amused by his antics. When Gus suggests they should go, I yelled at the TV, “Yes. Just get out of there. It’s too painful, Shawn!” Maybe not literally. But in my head for sure. Shawn’s jokes fall way flatter when Juliet is not in the room to silently giggle.
“And then there’s people like me who are made of tweed.”
I don’t regularly watch The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. It’s nothing against Ferguson, but his show is on far too late for me. When I wasn’t in school, that horrible 7 month period, I would catch Ferguson’s show after I got off my shift at Blockbuster. It’s a captivating little show, deconstructing the late night format in the way Letterman used to do: his 1000th show was done entirelywith a puppet, he avoids a scripted monologue, wonderfully eulogized his fatherand mother on air, and encourages voting. The show can feel like Pee-Wee’s Playhouse but with a Scottish accent.
This past week, Ferguson kicked out his audience and filmed an episode-long interview with a single guest. While Ferguson framed it as an “experiment,” he explained that it wasn’t totally crazy. Larry King does it all the time. Charlie Rose does it all the time. But it doesn’t happen all that often on late night broadcast television. So for the entire episode Ferguson sat down and talked with Stephen Fry.
To be fair, selecting Stephen Fry to headline your purely conversational late show is pretty much the best idea on the face of the planet. Fry is a brilliant conversationalist, talker, and thinker (on top of comedian and actor). Ferguson, of course, due to his lack of questions for his guests (he tears up the question cards as each guest approaches his desk), is also a terrific talker.
The hour covers a range of topics, from Twitter to punk rock to dealing with drug and alcohol addictions to the spirit of the United States to not knowing who celebrities are to Jersey Shore. It’s a wildly fascinating conversation, ebbing and flowing, broken only by the need for commercial breaks. The lack of an audience is hardly noticeable and, in fact, enhances the conversation. There’s no need to pause for laughter or ham it up for the audience. The plugs, one briefly for Fry’s new book about the States and a clip from the upcoming Alice in Wonderland (Fry voices the Cheshire Cat) are barely noticeable, mere asides really.
To be sure, the lack of an audience does alter the interview dynamics considerably, but I don’t know that anyone else on late night could do this. Leno’s interview skills aren’t that great, and I think Letterman (and O’Brien) thrives on having an audience. I don’t know that Fallon could stay focused on one thing for too long, and I haven’t seen enough Kimmel to really say either way. So perhaps like Prime Minister’s questions, this event should happen on Ferguson’s show once a month.
And maybe CBS will start advertising the show, because it’s a real party.
“He can’t be told what that is. He has to find it himself.”
I’ve been talking a fair bit about ideas of leadership and trust, two issues that I think are core themes of this season, and are issues that are hinted at in small ways during the episode. But I want to take a step back and think, briefly, about another element that the show has decided to engage the audience with.
Like “Exposé” before it, this season has been decidedly meta-textual, and this particular episode allows that tendency to stretch out a bit. The writers and Team Darlton (who penned this particular episode) are speaking to fans about the show and about the show itself. It could come off as a cheeky and mildly self-indulgent, but the show nicely manages to avoid these by speaking through Hurley. Read more »
If these be the idols we must choose from, what failed gods we have.
Flat voices. Dearth of presence. Wannabes. And the most uncomfortable performance of a song I’ve seen since an elementary school recital. These are the jokers we have to choose from. Well, you have to choose from. I can’t in good conscience waste one of my unlimited text messages to vote for one of these saps. Sure, it would cost me nothing but the inconsequential tax my SMS message would put on the T-Mobile phone system is too much to submit for some of these people. I mean, that poor kid was squeezing the life out of that microphone.
I’m not used to this show, but I’m told this isn’t typical for being this late in the competition. One contestant after another bringing a sad sack performance to the fore, trying to hit falsetti they don’t have, awkwardly moving around stage with their favorite rock stars’ moves, making me cringe the entire time between commercial breaks. Seriously, seeing another ad for Sons of Tucson was sweet, sweet relief. I love you, Sock.
And even with all the terrible, boring, and/or warbling performances, the worst part was the audience taking the time to boo the judges for honestly telling the performers how weak they were. Okay, I say judges. I mean they were booing Simon. I think, with so many seasons of Simon being the bad guy (something the guy seems to embrace), it’s easy for American Idol-watching veterans to dismiss his opinion, despite his usually being the most reasonable (if articulated with enough venom to amuse himself). But to take the effort to actually boo him in public? I really hope they had some Jerry Springer producers on the side goading them on or something because the alternative is just too sad. Maybe it’s a game by now. Maybe it’s a tradition to boo the Big Bad Simon during these performances. Not sure that makes it any less pathetic. They didn’t boo anyone for agreeing with him. And what about the judges saying, “I actually agree with Simon.” Like Simon is some curmudgeon they wheel on set with no credentials beyond the virulent elocution of outlandish opinions. They treat him like he just said, “I believe fire is magic and it scares me a lot.” Like what he’s saying is so insanely angry and off-the-wall, it needs a qualifier in order for someone to agree.
I came into tonight’s episode a little late but was finally pleased to see Ellen get a crack in during this thing with Formerly Shirtless Guy. I imagine when they brought Ellen on as a judge they weren’t looking for a woman that would comment on how cute the contestants were and their viability with the “girls” voting. I figure they brought her on because she is a fan of music and has a rich history of quick-witted comedy. Instead we get a lesser, overly complimentary version of her. But maybe that’s just because she’s a nice person and doesn’t want to hurt the feelings of contestants so out of their league.
Finally, an appeal to the American public: don’t vote for these people. Do you remember a while back when Diddy had that reality show and he essentially said no one on the show had what it takes and held more auditions? Demand that. Maybe everyone in the performers’ pool had an off-day on the same night but, as it stands, I don’t want to hear any of these jerks belt out overproduced numbers for the next year and a half on the grocery store satellite radio. Demand better.
Unfortunately, this is the voice of reason on this show being ignored.
Now they’re just getting lazy with the titles. Slant rhyme? Come on.
In my earlier reviews of this show, I fretted over them burning through so much material in the first three episodes, worrying that they would hit a wall and thin out their story with cheap melodrama tricks and, eventually, one of them was going to have to be bitten by a radioactive spider. I thought this thing was heading for One Tree Hill territory any week now. But, once Lux offered Baze’s place up for a party to her school chums in “Turtle Undefeated,” a light bulb came on. This show is never going to run out of material; it has 50+ years of stuff to work with.
You see, the underlying story for each episode, beyond the character arcs and interaction, is just a manipulation of common sit-com tropes. With the wisened daughter coming into the realm of immature adults (and thus becoming slightly stupider by association), all this show has to do is break out the elements of the typical sit-com themes and apply them to different parties within the cast.
John Locke was always scared when he was on the Island, scared that it would always go away: his ability to walk, the connection he felt, scared he’d go back to his old life with boxes and phone sex operators. As a result, Locke was always driven to solve any possible puzzle the Island laid out at his feet (or that he assumed the Island laid out at his feet). It would keep him there, safe and in control. Destiny may’ve brought John Locke there, but John Locke would do everything within his power not to leave.
But then there’s Smocke (apologies to readers of Maureen Ryan’s blog but Flocke just isn’t good enough for me, and Locke-ness Monster is too much to type every time). Here’s a…an entity with all the answers (or we assume has all the answers). There’s no mystery to the Island for him, and there’s no desire to stay. But Sawyer’s wrong about Smocke. There’s one thing that Smocke is afraid of and that’s Jacob. Read more »
It’s a rerun for CBS (and for many watching), but it’s New To Me (TM Jamie Weinman at Macleans). Last week, I tuned into “Hi”, a seemingly pivotal episode for the narrative and the show’s highest rated episode yet. I enjoyed the episode enough to make it part of my regular viewing, so I eagerly awaited another episode, even if it be a rerun.
This was a little bit more what I was expecting from the show when I tuned in last week: bits of courtroom stuff and law firm stuff, the on-going B-plot with Peter, and C-plots with Alicia’s kids. Read more »
Shawn: So you like tall men and fat animals. Juliet: Yes. Yes, I do.
Juliet: in streets, hair down, smile, not standing behind Lassie.
At the end of Season 3, we saw Shawn get together with his high school sweetheart (Abigail: Rachael Leigh Cook) and manage an awkward situation when Juliet finally made a move (Shawn shot her down). Thus began Season 4’s inconsistent love affair with Abigail, where she showed up for a handful of episodes while Shawn mentioned her in absentia (so often in absentia that she sounds made up), as Juliet receded to a more background role with Lassie.
Despite making Abigail sound important in Shawn’s life (giving her a drawer, etc), her absence in the show was noticeable. Her phantasmic presence also prevented one of the quirky and enjoyable minor storylines from developing: the flirty relationship between Juliet and Shawn. While minorly interesting at the end of Season 3, the storyline had become weak, uninteresting, and a drain on the Shawn/Gus interaction since it was often plagued with obligatory mentions in order to maintain audience retention of the story. Something had to give. So they got rid of Abigail by randomly sending her on a trip to Africa for an indeterminate amount of time (0410: “You Can’t Handle This Episode”) and gave Shawn an episode to mourn the relationship (0411: “Thrill Seekers and Hell Raisers”) before giving us a closer look at Juliet. Are we being set up to create some Shawn/Juliet shippers?
Read more »
