Showing posts with label Caruso. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Caruso. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Paging Dame Judi Dench

Is the Great Dame free at the moment? She needs to clear her schedule, as do Karl Urban and Thandie Newton, because they need to be ready to turn up for the next two installments of The Chronicles of Riddick, which Vin Diesel has announced are in the works right now.


Yes, we are as shocked as you are, Dame Dench. To many people (including at least one reader of this blog, and she knows who she is), this news is baffling, risible, proof of the delusions of Mr. Diesel. To others, me included, this is THE BEST NEWS EVER. Even better, judging from the enthusiastic responses on these pages, I now know I'm not alone. It's astonishing to find out that The Chronicles of Riddick, which has been used as a punchline for so long, actually has a fanbase. I really thought no one liked it. It's not like it set the world on fire, unlike what happens to the surface of prison planet Crematoria during daytime, if you know what I'm talking about.


Of course, Diesel is in the entertainment news a lot right now, as trailers for the fourth Fast And/Or Furious film has recently debuted, and his new movie Babylon A.D. is coming out on Friday. This is a cause for celebration for me, even though writer-director Matthieu Kassovitz is the man behind the appalling Gothika, a movie so utterly forgettable that all I can remember is that Halle Berry is in it as a ghost, or someone who sees ghosts, or as the girlfriend of a ghost, or as the lawyer/doctor of a ghost, or something ectoplasm-related. Whatever. It has ghosts in it. That much I know. Still, at least that shoot was where Robert Downey Jr. met his wife Susan, so something good came out of it (if you've seen RDJr's Inside The Actors Studio you will know how adorable they both are). As for director Kassovitz, he has been aiming his stinkeye at the cretins at Fox, blaming them for ruining his film with Diesel backing him up. Commenting on the state of the movie following its butchering in the editing suite:

It's pure violence and stupidity. The movie is supposed to teach us that the education of our children will mean the future of our planet. All the action scenes had a goal: They were supposed to be driven by either a metaphysical point of view or experience for the characters... instead parts of the movie are like a bad episode of 24... I should have chosen a studio that has guts. Fox was just trying to get a PG-13 movie. I'm ready to go to war against them, but I can't because they don't give a shit.

Ouch.


Babylon A.D. has been publicised pretty poorly by Fox, so it has very little chance of doing well, something I had originally figured was related to lack of confidence in Diesel's box office pull, before I read about the difficulties the crew had. It's an easy mistake to make. Diesel is often treated like a muscular lunkhead, but in interviews he has always struck me as an interesting guy (code for "he's a gamer, leave him alone"). That he draws ridicule so readily is one of the reasons, I suspect, filmgoers have been ready to point and laugh at The Chronicles of Riddick. If they don't like it, fair enough, but it's been laughed at in much the same way David Caruso's post NYPD Blue film career was. "Look at where your hubris and arrogance took you, Diesel", seems to be the cry. Screw that. It was a crazy-bold adventure filled with imagination and demented vision. I'd never argue that it was perfect, or a great film, but it was much better than many will give it credit, and it finishes on a perfect note. I've been eager to see the next installment ever since, and would have taken it in any format, be it comic, game, or animation. I can't wait, and I know for a fact that Brian Michael Bendoom is happy about it too. Upon hearing about the potential sequels, he said:


And no one would dare argue with... BENDOOM! (For background on Brian Michael Bendis' ill-treatment of the ultimate Marvel comics villain, check out these funny pages.)

Friday, November 30, 2007

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.

    Thursday, October 25, 2007

    Five Random Things That Make Me Very Very Happy (2)

    1: Doctor Orpheus from The Venture Brothers.


    There are lots of things to love about The Venture Brothers, which is pretty much the funniest animated series on TV right now, but the thing that is 100% guaranteed to make me laugh is Doctor Orpheus. He's an obvious spoof of Marvel Comics' Sorceror Supreme, Doctor Strange, but whereas that character is a confident and worldly force for good, Orpheus is plagued by insecurity, desperate for the friendship of Dr. Venture, and miserable over his inability to gain the attentions of an arch-enemy. Scared that his best years are behind him, and stuck looking after his grumpy goth daughter Trianna (who he loves but doesn't understand), he rents a spacious room in the Venture compound and tries desperately to gain the acceptance of his landlord, even though Dr. Venture is an absolute dick. In the second season he reforms his superteam, The Order of the Triad, but even that is not enough to satisfy him.

    He would be a great character anyway, but the hilariously overwrought voicework by Steven Rattazzi pushes him right over the top. There are many ways to deliver the line "Do not be too hasty in entering that room. I had Taco Bell for lunch!" upon exiting a toilet, but the way he bellows it as if delivering a hammy piece of Shakespearean verse is genius. Sadly Adult Swim are good at taking down footage from their shows from YouTube, so if you want to see him in action, I suggest you buy the DVDs. Strongly suggest, in fact. Actually, I order you. Immediately. You won't regret it.

    There's only one drawback to this. I'm currently reading Austin Grossman's fantastic novel, Soon I Will Be Invincible (an awesome birthday gift from Canyon), and the main superteam, The Champions, has on its roster a sorceror called Mister Mystic. Whenever he talks, all I can hear is that hilarious voice. I'm sure the character is meant to be taken seriously, but it's just impossible. BTW, you should also buy this book. It's fabtriffic.

    2: The news that production on Mad Max: Fury Road has begun again.


    When I was but a little boy, of the age where I would skip to school whilst wearing shorts and a cap, eagerly on the lookout for conkers while starlings and blue tits chirped in the trees, I really really enjoyed coming home and rewatching my knackered video copy of Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior, just to see the Feral Child chop off a guy's fingers with a razor boomerang, or Humongous flexing his outrageous muscles like something out of a Roman gladiator movie, or Vernon Wells getting killed in a head-on collision between a tanker truck and a car.

    Okay, I tell a lie. I was actually a teenager. The stuff about shorts and caps and conkers is true though. Maybe that's why the cool kids kept throwing stuff at my head. I also remember playing Car Wars, the Steve Jackson game that emulated the same post-apocalyptic car battle scenarios. Many hours would be spent pushing tiny slivers of cardboard around a flimsy map, trying to beat my game-obsessed cousin, who was older than me and actually knew the rules, thus putting me at a disadvantage. Ah, memories. The worst part of this exposure to all the grimy angry vroom-vroom is that I now think that such a future is not only entirely plausible but inevitable. And I don't even know how to drive! Man, when the world falls apart, I am so screwed. That said, I have a really bad arthritic knee and grey wings in my hair, so I've got that part of the Max Rockatansky shtick going for me.

    Loving Road Warrior is not exactly controversial, but some of the guys I knew who were in the year above thought I was mad for also liking Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, as it featured kids and was therefore not as hardcore as Road Warrior. Perhaps they had a point. If I went back to it now I'd probably agree, but at the time it just made me want to live in a post-apocalyptic world as part of a community of warrior children and hang out with a murderous Mel Gibson while trying to avoid Tina Turner. She was on Radio 1 all the time when I was a kid, so I reckon it would have been a common fantasy.


    It's been years since I've seen them (mostly because Warner Brothers have not bothered to release proper DVDs, opting instead for barebones cheap-ass versions instead), but I still remember them fondly, and kept wishing directorial maestro George Miller would get the fourth film underway. Sadly for the fans, the project has had its fair share of bad luck over the years: Miller directing one of the biggest flops in film history (Babe 2: Pig In The City) and then being ostracised by the industry; budget trouble; African location shooting proving problematic; Mel proclaiming loudly that the Jews are responsible for all the world's ills (I wonder if he thinks the Californian fires that menaced his house were a plot) and thus expending every last bit of good will I had towards him (until I saw the very entertaining Apocalypto, which has thrown me for a loop). I'd given up on it, especially as Miller is now working on the Justice League movie, but Moviehole have revealed the project is going ahead again, sans Gibson, and pre-production will be done during the Justice League shoot.

    Miller is one of my all-time heroes. The closest he's got to making a bad movie was The Witches of Eastwick; when people complain about the Hollywoodisation of a book I get so mad at the implicit snobbery in that phrase, but there is no other word for Michael Christofer's adaptation of John Updike's bizarre novel. All of the risk has been surgically removed, and the only thing that redeems the movie is Miller's muscular direction. I still love it, and have seen it a trillion times, but it's not the movie it should have been. Other than that, he's made some great stuff. Lorenzo's Oil, Babe 2, the Mad Max movies; all great. I even enjoyed Happy Feet lots and lots, and think it gets a ton of unfair criticism. Whatever. The master is back now he has an Oscar in his hand, and hopefully this second wind will see him restoring his reputation as one of the great storytellers of our age (and if you think I'm gonna apologise for the hyperbole, you can forget it), as well as making a movie set in a world that is more relevant than ever. I really cannot wait. Plus, the release of the new movie might spur Warner into giving the original movies a proper big DVD re-release, with all the bells and whistles! ZOMG!

    Until then, check out Ain't It Cool's coverage; Merrick has been nice enough to put clips of the final chase sequence from Road Warrior. It's not a clean, speedy scene with nimble cars doing outrageous things; it's more a war of attrition, with outrageous violence and masterful stunts. Cinema at its best.

    3: Frank Caliendo imitating John Madden on Letterman:

    My only real exposure to John Madden is through playing the game, but you don't need to know what the real guy is like. This works beautifully anyway. The fact that it's an uncannily accurate impression is just a bonus. As with great Moments in Presidential speeches, this never fails to amuse.



    4. Vern's work in the field of Seagalogy.

    Speaking of Ain't It Cool, one of the site's more entertaining features are the reviews by Outlaw Vern, which are works of chaotic, grammatically dodgy brilliance. For years he has been working on a book of Seagalogy, and it finally got printed this week (I think; well, I found it today, so I'm sticking with that). Criticism can often be such a perfunctory thing that when you come across someone with a singular voice, it doesn't matter if you often disagree with them. It's just good to find entertaining and thoughtful writing about pop culture. Peter Bradshaw in the Guardian, Nigel Andrews in the Financial Times, Stephanie Zacharek and Andrew O'Hehir of Salon, Moriarty from AICN, the AV Club guys; I head straight to them every week.

    While they will review most things released, Vern focuses on the long discredited action genre, and treats it with the respect it needs. His particular area of expertise, obviously, is the filmography of Steven Seagal, and he has the same love/hate relationship with him that I do with David Caruso. All you need to know about his credentials is that he thinks Out For Justice is Seagal's masterpiece, and it is, so he gets full marks for accuracy. Yes, I have often disagreed with him, but he makes me laugh even while I think he is horribly horribly wrong.

    His entertainingly incoherent writing (almost certainly a pose, a bit like the wonderful Ami Angelwings) can be bought as real actual books or downloads from Lulu, and I heartily recommend them. Wow, I'm really trying to shill stuff out today.

    5: We Both Reached For The Gun by Kander and Ebb, from Rob Marshall's Chicago:

    Canyon recently recommended I watch Rob Marshall's film version of Chicago, and though a few years ago I would have said, "But the NO!!!", this time I jumped at the chance. Since seeing Once More With Feeling and Guys and Dolls (with Ewan McGregor and Jane Krakowski), I've started to love the genre. Chicago was better than I had expected, and I wonder if the lukewarm reviews it occasionally got at the time had more to do with the garishness of the visuals compared to the starkness of the stage version. As far as I could tell, Marshall did a pretty good job of mimicking Bob Fosse's directorial style, and though it was a little flashier, it worked very well.

    Of all the songs in the show, We Both Reached For The Gun is my favourite (with Mister Cellophane coming close behind), but it was the scene itself, with the conceit of Roxie and the attendant press corps as puppets at the whim of Billy Flynn, that appealed to me most. If I'd give the movie an 8, this scene gets an 11. It's just genius.

    Wednesday, September 12, 2007

    CSI: Miami Watch: "Darkroom"

    Again a week behind, but I have time to go back over it, seeing as how we missed last night's episode, opting instead to waste about 3 hours wandering around scary Neasden and the haunting modernist wastes of Wembley Stadium on a trek that even Shackleton would have baulked at. I won't go into details, but let's just say Satan himself designed Ikea in his own bowels, pooped hundreds of cavernous labyrinths out onto the earth, bribed local councils to remove any public transport systems near them, and filled every shop with evil minions after first scooping out their brains. Moving on...

    I will say this. Darkroom was a boring episode with only a few WTF moments, but I've since found out something that makes this an absolute bad-taste classic, so I'm glad I've made the effort. The show opens, in a seemingly prosaic manner, with a tollbooth. As you can imagine, the idea of a kidnap hostage handing a tollbooth attendant a bloodied $5 bill with "He's going to kill me!" scrawled on it would be enough to temper the dullness of the setting, but this is CSIMF: Miami. There's another way to pump this moment up for maximum pop.


    Sexy tollbooth attendants. Is this common in Miami? Foxy ladies suggestively sucking straws and pouting all over the place while bitching about people not paying the toll? Somehow I doubt it. Whether they're real or not, they know to contact our heroes, and soon H swoops down to investigate, with Calleigh, Tripp and Wolfe in tow. We do not see the sexy tollboothers again. They have served their sexy purpose. Calleigh checks out the bill, to see if the bloody substance really is blood. This takes one whole minute of splitscreens, smash cuts and avid farts.


    Either they were running short this week (as is often the case), or they just got some new editing equipment in and wanted to take it for a spin. At the same time this happens, they coincidentally find a dead body buried under rocks at a nearby wharf. Turns out she's a model (of course), who they tie to the tollbooth incident for no recognisable reason. The model is obviously decomposing, but they think she was in the car an hour earlier. Honestly, the writing here is abominable. The only reason to tie the two crimes together is that later on they are linked by identical ligature marks, but they jump to a conclusion before they get any evidence. Does anyone check these scripts? It's appallingly poor work.

    Anyway, using actual evidence (rock dust, something they use at least twice an episode) they tie the woman to a restaurant being rebuilt, and Tripp and Wolfe head over, encountering Cirroc Lofton, formerly Jake Sisko on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. I was reminded of that excellent episode in season 4 of DS9, where you see Jake grow old trying to save his dad from some sub-space tesseract something something. In that, old Cirroc Lofton was played by Tony "Candyman" Todd, but it turns out old Cirroc Lofton looks and sounds just like young Cirroc Lofton, but with a beard. Very unusual.


    As he hasn't committed any extra crimes (see High Octane review), he is not a suspect, but he reveals he was in the middle of looking for his fiancee when Wolfe and Tripp came across him. She's a model, and she's called Jill Gerard, which sounds like Gil Gerard, who played Buck Rogers in the 70s. A sci-fi homage trend is slowly developing. Wolfe and Tripp then get on with looking for evidence in a safe at the restaurant, and Wolfe reveals he was taught by his uncle how to crack them open using nothing more than his ear. At last, he has a talent other than being a judgemental dick. Inside the safe are dozens of photos of models, and they take them back to HQ to check them out.

    While Wolfe and Calleigh get on with that, Natalia comes in (obviously she has nothing else to do), and freaks out. One of the photos is of her sister, who has suddenly gone missing. A traditionally clumsy way for CSI: Miami's writers to create some tension, creating a previously unmentioned relation to a main character and then getting them in trouble? That's what I thought, but...well, I'll get to that. It's far far worse than just bad writing. It certainly upsets Natalia, who seems to already be wearing a dress that looks like a visual representation of post-traumatic stress disorder.


    As soon as the DNA test on the bloodied $5 bill is matched to Natalia's sister, H emerges from the shadows right on time, just as he always does. How does he do it? He vows to save her sister, and holds a press conference on the lawn outside the HQ, though he doesn't mention the family connection. One of the reporters there is played by Eva La Rue's actual sister, Nikka. She looks like a stretched version of Eva but has exactly the same voice. Also at the press conference is evil reporter Erica, who pumped gullible Wolfe for information in season 4. She tells Wolfe she knows about Natalia's sister, and he gets all threateny, which is like being menaced by a hobbit with a more expensive hairstyle, what with his Cuban heels being visible at the start of the scene.

    Using bad science, the team match the photos to the only guy in Miami who uses the same film stock (another classic stupid CSI: Miami cliche, the generic evidence tied to a single person in the entire city/state), and they end up at a fashion shoot, where Calleigh and Wolfe deliver a memorable speech about foolish naked women and their bad choices, and the terrible exploitation of them by photographers. They of course say this while dozens of scantily clad women with enormous boobs wander around in the background, the camera occasionally wandering off to leer at some girl in a bikini. While they are there, they incidentally interview a photographer called Gavin, who looks like Justin Theroux.



    He is memorably sleazy, and that shirt is a disgrace. After some timewasting red herrings, he is brought in, and H reveals he knows Gavin was accused of rape many years before. This pretty much makes it obvious that he is guilty, as this is always the way the show operates, but the best thing about this scene is when Gavin says was acquitted of that crime, and H responds, "Acquitted doesn't mean innocent." As Canyon said (with massive, righteous fury), that's pretty much the philosophy of the show right there. Did I mention it's enormously right-wing? Whereas the infinitely superior CSI is analytical and seemingly left-wing, CSI: Miami is impulsive and knee-jerk reactionary. I'm sure someone has already written a dissertation on that. If not, doctorate here I come!

    While this is going on, evil Erica the "news chick" (as Natalia calls her) is evilly applying makeup outside, having gleefully revealed all the information Wolfe told her not to (good work, shrimp). Natalia confronts her with hysterical anger, which does nothing, but then Calleigh calmly points out how she chases salacious headlines, and is obviously after attention, what with wanting to be on TV and all that. I would normally think the show had entered judgement overload and was now judging its own cast, but considering there is one close-up of Erica's face for every 10 shots of her boobs, I guess they're just going after slutty news reporters, and not, you know, every actor on TV.


    Soon after our heroes find Jill Gerard on a boat (and not, as I would have thought, in the 25th century, hanging out with Twiki and Dr. Theophilus), where she has been handcuffed by the evil bad guy kidnapper. Or has she? Turns out she hasn't been sexually assaulted like the other victim. Why? She is a virgin, and the killer is so impressed/crazy that she is spared his terrible wrath. Though not actually participating in the kidnaps, she observed them and was treated well by the perp, so well that she refuses to give up his identity. Wolfe even goes so far to blame her behaviour on Stockholm syndrome. So why doesn't the show punish her terribly for withholding crucial information, like everyone else on the show who is judged a villain for chewing gum or not paying their parking tickets? I vote her virginity. She is obviously virtuous (i.e. she has committed an anti-crime), and as such is guilty of nothing more than being misguided, so except for some carping from Delko, she's given a break. Virgins have stored up some virtue points that can be used as a Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card? More evidence for my dissertation, Values, Judgement and Forgiveness: CSI: Miami and the Expression of Hyper-Morality.

    Of course, the main reason for her reluctance to reveal the identity of the killer / kidnapper / rapist is that the episode is running a few minutes short, so two minutes later Wolfe and Delko get to isolate some evidence from a car they've found. The evidence? Rock dust. See? It leads them back to the wharf that was a crime scene earlier, and even though it's only about a day since they found the first victim buried there, they obviously left no one there to keep an eye on the crime-scene, and the killer has come back and left someone else under the rocks. Seriously bad writing. Delko uses a thermal imager to find her, and H orders everyone to get her out, while he stands around, legs akimbo, looking intense and dramatic. She is saved, and instantly announces that the perp is none other than Gavin the rapist (innocence is an alien concept in the CSI: Miamiverse). H leaves everyone there, and zooms off in his Hummer, pausing to pose dramatically along the way.


    The killer is in an enormous studio, evilly photographing Natalia's sister. Not for long! H storms in (very slowly, doing his crouchy thing and leading with his gun), and starts threatening the villain, who is still wearing that egregious leather jumper thing. Rattled, he grabs Natalia's sister and runs further into the studio, pausing only to shoot a bog-standard light bulb. Instead of just popping, it explodes into an outrageous unending shower of sparks, serving only as something dramatic for H to walk under as he chases his man. It would look a lot cooler if a spark didn't land in his eye.


    Ouch! Soon the perp is under arrest, and Natalia is reunited with her sister. Gavin is clapped in irons, and H gets to threaten him with jail, but then he hints that he has committed more crimes than H knows about, which seemed a little odd when I first saw it as it came out of the blue. I'll get to that in a minute, but first, an answer to our questions about H's ability to appear in the corners of rooms at exactly the right moment. After talking to Gavin, H looks pensive (as usual), and then the screen starts flashing in black and white, before smooshing out into a wash of colour.


    When it clears, H is outside CSI HQ. Of course! He can teleport! It's been staring us in the face the whole time. Satisfying ending to a lacklustre episode, but it seemed off for a lot of reasons. There was more judging than usual, for a start, and some back and forth about ethics (something it never normally does). It was only a couple of hours ago that I found out that this episode was based on the real life case of a photographer called William Richard Bradford, who kidnapped and killed several women, and photographed many more. While researching the case for the episode, the show's producers found out that Eva La Rue's sister, Nikka, was one of those models photographed by the killer several years before. This poster shows the women who were photographed; Nikka is number 3.

    The show ended up being a public service announcement to try to get the audience to identify all of the women who had been photographed by Bradford, and as such is a pretty noble thing for the show to do (this information was missed out of the UK broadcast). Of course, CSI: Miami is still sleazy beyond belief, so they managed to creep it up by asking Nikka to play Natalia's sister, basically pretending to be the victim she almost was. Thankfully she refused, as she thought it would be surreal. That's certainly not the word I would use.

    Darkroom Stats:

    Horatio's (Rhyming) Send-Off Into Credits:

    Tripp: Think it's a prank?
    Horatio: No such luck, Frank.
    Roger Daltrey: "YEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

    Ripped-Off Plot of the Week: Peeping Tom, X-Men 2, and real life, amazingly.

    Horatio's Most Fearsome Line:

    Horatio: That's far enough, Gavin. Now get down on the ground, or I'll blow your brains out.

    Number of Caruso Two-Steps: 1. Very disconcerting.

    Number of Cleavage Shots: Dozens.

    Snottiest Behaviour From Wolfe: Cracking a safe was pretty cool, but after he finds a bunch of evidence he tells Tripp to put some gloves on. Now, we make fun of Tripp, but he's not a total imbecile. I think he knows how to handle evidence, you little jerk.

    Most Ineptitude From Delko: Another good week for Delko. Did Adam Rodriguez ask the writers to make him more competent? Or will there be a stupidity blow-out further down the line?

    Thursday, September 6, 2007

    CSI: Miami Watch: "High Octane"

    We've fallen behind with CSI recaps already, with High Octane aired on UK's five last week, and Darkroom airing last night, but luckily for us, the latter was very bland, except for the odd moment of deranged insanity. Gives me time to have a crack at the nutty jet-fuel intensive installment from two weeks ago. The opening scene is a classic of OTT editing, noise, and outlandish crime. Street racers having a drift race near one of Miami's many marinas are coming up to the finish line, when one of them, a cocky son of a bitch, sticks his body out of his car's sunroof and steers with his feet. Very dramatic, until his head is sheared clean off by a stream of lightbulbs going across the street. It's wonderfully gruesome.

    Even though it has all the hallmarks of a dumb stunt gone wrong, H knows better, and soon his team have to figure out whether he's right or not. Those H hunches, you've gotta love 'em. Well, either he is a precog a la Screaming Samantha Morton in Minority Report, or the crime rate in Miami is so out of control even human rights lawyers would recommend instigating martial law. Considering his 100% strike rate for appearing in front of the elevator at CSI HQ just as someone who needs to speak to him steps out, I'd say it's the former. And when he's finished solving crimes and filling bad guys full of lead, he goes home, puts on a skintight swimming costume, and sits in a bath of weird conductive goop. That's why he's so wrinkly now.

    While inspecting the crime scene, Delko and Wolfe are approached by a documentarian who has been given permission to film our heroes. Perhaps it's easier than setting up stunts for Candid Camera. The top hunky crimestoppers are non-plussed about this, especially Wolfe, even though he spent season 4 hanging out with Erica Sykes, a stereotypical journalist with zero scruples, so hungry for a headline that she would sell out her own grandmother to the cops and then film the arrest. So of course he then agrees to help the journalist out. Whuh? This plotline is dropped almost immediately, but not before he can tell Natalia about it and then bring up her former career as a mole. Again. Natalia wears two fierce things in this episode. One, the worst blouse ever. Two, this bitchface.

    God, I hate Wolfe. After being a pissy little bitch to her, he goes off to interrogate someone who sells tyres for drift-racing cars. One of the weird things about this show is how it accidentally portrays everyone in Miami as being morally compromised. The guy who sells the tyres sells them to teenagers, something Wolfe picks up on immediately, and makes a big obnoxious point about it. While he's talking to the evil tyre salesman he suddenly manifests Clooneyface. He does the thing where he swallows the latter half of his line and then stretches his neck upwards while pulling in his chin. You know the move I mean. Clooney does it all the time! He did it so often on ER it looked like he was addicted to eating really spicy burritos and had gas all the time.

    Jonathan Togo, you may have worked with Clint Eastwood in Mystic River, but you are not, and never will be, even a billion quintillionth as cool as Gorgeous George. It's that simple. His interrogation leads them to the organiser of the race, played by Samaire Armstrong, who stunk up several episodes of The O.C., getting in the way of Summer and Seth's eternal true love yay! For this she gets no love from us. Calleigh interrogates her at CSI HQ, and even though Samaire's character is probably responsible for the murder, the thing she does that pisses Calleigh off most of all is leaving her phone on vibrate on the desk and then getting pissy because she's not allowed to answer it. This happens every time Calleigh interrogates her (about three times), and is a signifier of Samaire's guilt. Anyone thoughtless enough to leave their phone on vibrate and then insist on answering it during a police investigation must be a murderer! This may sound like I'm joking, but I'm not. This is the way the show rolls. Coincidentally, the building used for the HQ external shots was used for the external Newport Group shots in The O.C. Probably because it's all bendy and pretty.

    After that Calleigh visits Delko, who has been tasked with fingerprinting every bottle of beer found at the race track. There are dozens, so he fits them on a rack in a smoke chamber. Boring enough, but there follows a gloriously stiff dialogue exchange between him and Calleigh that has to be seen to be believed.

    Emily Procter's hair is a lot better than her fake laugh, I have to say. Once the hilarity is over, the bottles bring up the prints of a young kid who gets pressured to give up names of everyone involved in the crime, but even Horatio's patronising threats do nothing. Through some top detective work they find out the kid's dad, who I shall refer to as Suspicious Dad, called the cops about the drift race, ostensibly to save his ass. Good work, Suspicious Dad. H is thrilled by this and patronises him a whole bunch about looking after his kid. H, how about you get some kids of your own and see how hard parenting is instead of judging all of Miami. Ass.

    Through lots of really uninteresting police work, the team come to the conclusion that not only were a lot of the drift cars stolen and sold by a snotty young guy called Luke (there are only victims and hoodlums in CSI: Miami), the death was staged by Samaire Armstrong, using a radio controlled doohickey to trigger the shocks on the car to raise it 16 inches, thus bringing the poor guy's head in line with the wire. Why did she do such a gruesome and ambitious thing? Was he cheating on her? Did he assault her years ago? Was he responsible for the death of one of her friends? No. She just thought footage of him having his head removed would increase awareness of the sport if she put the clip online. Damn you, YouTube! Is no one safe from your corrupting influence?!

    Cut and dried, except that H has a hunch. He has no proof of any other crime being committed, but somehow he knows there's something else going on. Perhaps it's because there's still 20 minutes left in the episode. He sends Delko and Wolfe to talk to the kid with the Suspicious Dad, thinking he's involved with the radio controlled doohickey, and while they bicker between themselves in an incredibly unprofessional manner, a car bursts out of the garage behind them, with the hapless kid trapped inside!

    Exciting! Turns out the car is being propelled by jet fuel, a fact illustrated by more whizzy special effects. As jet fuel is hard to come by, they realise someone is siphoning it off from, get this, high-pressure pipes that are situated five feet under the city. Jet fuel. Five feet underground. Hey everyone, let's all move to Miami. It's (potentially lethally) hott!

    So who could be stealing $47000 worth of jet fuel? H and Tripp ponder this, and Tripp reels off a bunch of facts about how it couldn't possibly be Suspicious Dad, even though he excavates pools and has been implicated by a witness. He's so dumbfounded by the conflicting facts that he opts to wear this memorable face.

    Inspiring. The cameras hold on him for so long it threw us totally. Ah, God bless you, you dumbass. Anyway, H doesn't need evidence. He knows it's Suspicious Dad as he dreamt it in his goop pool the night before. The rest of the team do a bunch of basic forensic work and find out that Luke is involved, and even worse, listens to Chamillionaire in his flash car! Why is it that, oftentimes, upon seein' me rollin', they are also, at the same time, hatin'? Only Chamillionaire knows. H tails Luke to an airfield, and there gets his first man.

    That smile is a thing of beauty. During the arrest that implicates Luke with Suspicious Dad, H figures out that Suspicious Dad is not only stealing jet fuel, he's using it to power a plane filled with cars stolen by Luke that he then sells internationally. And, worse than that, he's a Bad Dad! H told him to look after his kid, but he actually doesn't care about his kid at all, only phoning the police about the race to distract Miami Dade PD while he siphoned off literally tens of thousands of dollars worth of fuel. AND he's transporting illegal goods while his son lies in hospital after driving out of his garage at a billion miles an hour. What a heartless bastard. Meanwhile, as H does his thing, Tripp goes into his fugue state again.

    I'm beginning to think he needs help. They arrive at SD's plane, and upon seeing all of the police, SD does a brilliant, "DAGNABBIT!" gesture of frustration that I would put on here if I could figure out how to stream to YouTube. H tells him off for being a bad parent (that seems to be a worse crime than anything else), and as he is taken away by police, the camera rises up in triumph. H gets every man. You can't escape his vengeful, obnoxiously judgemental wrath.

    High-Octane Stats:

    Horatio's Send-Off Into Credits:

    Wolfe: "Well, if this was a stunt gone wrong, how come everyone took off?"
    Horatio: ::puts on glasses:: "Because this...was not an accident."
    Roger Daltrey: "YEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

    Ripped-Off Plot of the Week: The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift, The World Is Not Enough, Highlander II: The Quickening.

    Horatio's Most Patronising Line:

    Luke the car thief: It's business. I fix cars.
    Horatio: You fix up stolen cars, Luke.

    Number of Caruso Two-Steps: 5

    Snottiest Behaviour From Wolfe: Ignoring Natalia's friendly chit-chat about evidence so that he can bring up her past as a mole AGAIN, even though in season 4 Wolfe kept accidentally leaking information to the press. Ass-hat.

    Most Ineptitude From Delko: A good week for Delko. He even managed to put out burning jet fuel with a bog-standard fire extinguisher. Minus points for wearing awful white shoes with his grey jacket and pants combo. Miami Vice was cancelled about 20 years ago, Delko, and that look is not coming back.

    Thursday, August 23, 2007

    CSI: Miami Watch: "Curse of the Coffin"

    Though I realize we're a few years late to start recapping this marvel of a show, it's never too late to begin. The UK has just begun showing season five, which is a year behind the US schedule – not that it matters, I suppose, because I've never met anyone who will admit to watching it. (Someone is, for Christ's sake! It's the most popular show in the world – even more popular than Baywatch, and we can only thank mighty Thor that the Miami location does not persuade Horatio to blind us with his mole-inflected, saggy cheese torso.) But the Admiral has provided a helpful primer, so any objections you have can be as easily dismissed as one of Horatio's shifty perps.

    Synopsis: Have you heard of Santeria? (No, it's not a bowel disease or a fruity tropical drink. It's voodoo! Actually it's an Afro-Caribbean religion, but leave it to this show to reduce a complex religion into simplistic ridiculousness for its own purposes.) Can you pronounce it like Delko, with that slightly rolled "r" and singsong inflection that shows the viewer how authentically Cuban(/Russian) our inept frogman is? I bet you can't. Were you aware that, according to CSI: Miami, it involves putting spells on chintzy pieces of woodwork, selling drugs that cause temporary paralysis, and stowing the bloody, dismembered heads of goats in your closet? And yet it's apparently not affiliated with Scientology? Somewhere in L.A., John Travolta is taking notes.

    Of course, this is all in a day's work for CSI: Miami – if it's not cannibalism and pirates (see season three's "Pirated"), it's voodoo curses and random explosions. Our intrepid team finds out that our corpse of the week was an aficionado of the religion, which Delko is immediately spooked by (as he professes that he is Catholic and therefore cannot come into contact with befouled objects – something he should have thought about before Sex Quest '05, perhaps). How do they find this out? They discover a goat's head, infested with maggots and dripping blood, in a coat closet. It's a minor shock that the inept crimefighters even bothered to look in a closet in the first place, but Horatio was probably searching for a small child to patronize (see episodes passim).

    Since CSI: Miami writers like to cut out the burdensome step of the writing process called "coming up with ideas," something like this probably did happen in real life. What probably didn't happen in real life? This:



    OMG the corpse isn't dead at all! When Ryan attempts to explain this to Alexx, she shows him the corpse and tells him that there's no way it could sit up, as it has a stomach wound. Ryan tells her that the corpse she's showing him is a different dead guy. Excuse me? Alexxx didn't notice this?? A corpse WALKS OUT OF HER MORGUE and Mr. Wolfe, of all people, has to tell her that it's missing. Alexxxx's response? "My staff isn't trained to watch the living." First of all, what staff? Alexxxxx is the only one who's ever in the morgue. Apparently she's begun talking not just to corpses but to imaginary employees as well. Secondly, what? Is your "staff" even trained to watch the dead? Shouldn't they have noticed that a body was missing? Imaginary morgue attendants just aren't what they used to be.

    And then we come to the glorious, and gloriously ridiculous, denouement of the episode. It turns out Horatio discovers and has to defuse a car bomb – this is only glancingly related to the plot of the episode and comes out of nowhere, by the way, but no matter. The bomb has four minutes until it explodes. "Can you defuse it?" asks useless-as-usual Tripp. "Not in four minutes," purrs Horatio, the former bomb expert (you didn't know that? Oh, my friend, you have so much to learn).

    The next shot we see? Horatio DRIVING OVER A BRIDGE WITH A BOMB IN THE CAR.

    How did he even get out of the parking lot in four minutes? How did he know he wouldn't get stuck in traffic? What is his mode of transportation after the car explodes? Why is he driving over a freaking bridge? Is this even legal?? (I know what H. would say: "Justice knows no laws, my friend. It knows. No. Laws.") These are questions only the foolish would consider. For now we have this, the crowning glory of the season, the very reason this show exists (namely, to blow stuff up, and to promote the color orange):



    Notice how H. removes his sunglasses as he languidly exits the car that surely should have exploded twenty minutes ago, then surveys the landscape majestically, as only a crusading albino lawman can, and then, for the final iconic shot, puts the sunglasses back on. Shades of Caruso, man. You can't beat that.

    Curse of the Coffin Stats:

    Horatio's Send-Off Into Credits (how awesome is Channel 5 for appropriating the YouTube clips?): a bit lackluster this time:

    Alexx: [referring to a tiny cursed coffin] "Maybe it's a message. Someone trying to scare us off the case."
    Horatio: "Maybe. But we don't scare that easy, do we, Alexx?"
    Roger Daltrey: "YEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

    Ripped-off Plot of the Week: The Serpent and the Rainbow

    Horatio's Most Patronizing Line:

    Random Perp: "Can I have my clothes back?"
    Horatio: "I'd say that would be...unlikely."

    Number of Caruso Two-Steps: 4

    Snottiest Behavior From Ryan: mocking Delko for being scared of the Santeria objects (hilariously, he later becomes convinced that the curses are real)

    Most Ineptitude From Delko: slamming an axe down on a glass table so hard that the table later shatters (we later see poor hapless Boa Vista, in the lab room when the table breaks, emerging from an inexplicable cloud of smoke, her hair mussed and covered in glass, as if the table had actually exploded)

    Number of Perps Dispatched by Horatio: only one: a bomb-filled car

    Number of Pointless Split-Screen Shots: countless

    Wednesday, August 22, 2007

    CSI: Miami primer

    I'm sure anyone following the CSI: Miami tags on this post will already know everything they need to know about this most unique of shows, but in case you're wandering through here without having experienced it, here is a quick runthrough of the main characters.

    Horatio Caine - The Mighty Caruso.
    To say there is no other character in modern TV like him is an understatement. He's not even a character. He's a mood. A state of mind. Justice personified. The yin to evil's yang. A one-man pose machine. An enigma. He is of course famous for wearing sunglasses, but does he wear the shades, or do they wear him? The way he stares at them, often from the rear of the frame while everyone else does the actual police work, it's as if he is in communion with them. Do they guide him? If he ever solved a case, we might have to give some credit to the sentient glasses, but as he never seems to actually do any crime-solving other than intimidating perps or blasting hostiles to pieces, it's immaterial.

    Calleigh Duquesne - Emily Procter.
    Procter's departure from The West Wing, where she was light and funny and likeable, was already saddening, before she decided to turn up here as a humourless, pinched caricature of herself. I always thought of her as a light comedic actress (in a good way), so imagine my dismay when she was cast as a ballistics expert who looks like she's trying her hardest not to break out in a inappropriate grin in every scene. ::sigh:: Whatever. She's getting a big payday, so it's not like it's the end of the world. Plus, every so often she gets to act opposite the excellent character actor John Heard, playing her feckless alcoholic father. Or Foghorn Leghorn in a big hat. It's hard to tell what effect he's aiming for.

    Eric Delko - Adam Rodriguez.
    Ah, the inept Delko, prone to losing evidence (in an episode that was obviously running 20 minutes short and filled that time with a panicky Delko trying to pretend nothing was wrong), getting caught buying dope for his dying sister, and having outdoor sex with strangers against walls in the middle of Miami. How he keeps his job is beyond me. Perhaps it's his command of Russian, always useful in Florida. Or perhaps it's his incredible knowledge of sports cars and swamp-diving. Whatever it is, it's a good thing he's around. By season 4 Horatio desperately needed someone to stalk, protect from the boogeyman, and/or love, and Delko's cancer-ridden sister fit the bill perfectly. Until the kingpin of a Brazilian drug cartel had her assassinated. Oh CSI: Miami, how I love thee!

    Ryan Wolfe - Jonathan Togo.
    Brought in to inflate the cast after the death of Tim Speedle (see below), the young man known to Horatio as Mr. Wolfe was promoted to CSI from traffic cop duty after finding a clue. That's a rigorous selection process right there. Perhaps Horatio thought he could mold the man into a copy of himself. It was not to be. Whereas everyone defers to Horatio and respects him (even though he never does any work), for at least a whole season everyone hated Wolfe. His arrogance, snottiness, and ineptitude certainly justified the treatment, not to mention the outrageously pompous way he dismisses Natalia Boa Vista (see below), though that might be a consequence of her not falling gratefully into his arms in season 4. His finest moment, though, has to be getting shot in the eye with a nail gun. I was torn between being sickened to my guts and wanting to write a thank you letter to the writers.

    Alexx Woods - Khandi Alexander.
    Another employee who really should be let go soon. Not that she's as inept as Delko, but seriously, hasn't someone thought it odd that the Miami Dade coroner has conversations with dead people, and not like in that scary episode of Buffy from season 7? Several corpses have been patronised by Alexx, who refers to the ones she likes as, "Sugah". Other than that, she does very little on the show. Notably, she is one of the few characters who seems able to tolerate Mr. Wolfe, and coincidentally she is the only character other than him to be regularly thanked by Horatio as he leaves the room/crime scene, even if there are other people there. Why be selective? Even hapless Delko deserves to be thanked from time to time, especially if he doesn't contaminate the crime scene, hump a random witness, or accidentally kick evidence into a swamp.

    Tim Speedle - Rory Cochrane.
    Yes, I know that's not a picture from the show. It's only fitting I choose his greatest onscreen moment to memorialise him now that he's gone to that swish, glass-walled laboratory in the sky. Speedle represented the slob nation on CSI: Miami for a couple of years, before getting into a shoot-out and biting the bullet. His death was caused by a build-up of what looked like Crunchy Nut Cornflakes in his gun, a character quirk that had been set up in a previous season when Calleigh told him off for not taking care of his firearm. Other than that, Cochrane's time on the show is memorable for seemingly being a very uncomfortable experience for him. He looked embarrassed every week, mumbling his dialogue and shiftily glancing off camera as if looking for Richard Linklater to come and save him. And he did! Cochrane then went on to appear in A Scanner Darkly, and in five nervy, rotoscoped minutes he completely erased the memory of his time in Miami Dade. Hooray! If only Aaron Sorkin would stop being crap so that he could save Emily Procter.

    Frank Tripp - Rex Linn.
    We watched an episode of CSI: Miami last night that was particularly absurd, featuring carbombs and zombies, but it was notable for featuring possibly the first instance of deductive work by Detective Tripp. He picked up a golf club and said it belonged to a man because it was large. It's not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but for the first time he wasn't just relaying obvious information to Horatio (information that Horatio already knows, usually). I was stunned. Poor Rex Linn. He's been a dependable movie tough guy for a few years now, livening up many dubious films, such as Cliffhanger and Cutthroat Island (time to stop taking Renny Harlin's calls, Rex), and now all he does is act as Horatio's secretary. His most bizarre moment on the show was when he suddenly, with absolutely no prior warning, became a racist NIMBY, ranting about floods of Cuban immigrants stealing American jobs, to the immense displeasure of Delko. After almost coming to blows, their differences were resolved in a memorable finale, with Tripp and Delko teaming up to help a Cuban shopkeeper fix up his mini-mart in super-meaningful slo-mo, with Horatio smiling beneficently from the touchlines. I cried!

    Natalia Boa Vista - Eva La Rue.
    The most recent addition to the team. Prior to that, Natalia was a hastily introduced lab tech who, in a shocking twist, had been planted on the team as a mole by the FBI. I know what you're thinking. Well, actually, you're either thinking you're hungry and Crunchy Nut Cornflakes would go down a treat, or you're thinking, "Why would anyone want to investigate our heroes?" If you're thinking the latter, the answer is that the CSI: Miami team are notoriously inept and corrupt, constantly bending the law while obnoxiously taking the moral high ground against every even vaguely criminal person they come across. Her totally believable transition into a CSI has been hindered by her rivalry with Mr. Wolfe at his most slimy, as well as the reappearance of her evil abusive ex-husband, hilariously released from jail and instantly hired as a crime-scene clean-up guy just so he can keep pestering her at work. The only other things to note about her are that she succumbed to Delko's lumpen sex-vibe, possibly due to temporary insanity brought on by the guilt of being a mole, and she has the biggest Bambi eyes on TV.

    Maxine Valera - Boti Bliss.
    Where to begin with Valera, played by the delightfully named Boti Bliss? Well, she's a lab tech. And... erm... Oh! There was that one time she accidentally contaminated a bunch of evidence, or something, and she took a leave of absence for a while. Of course, this had to happen during the aforementioned FBI investigation. The picture I've used is from a seemingly anti-glamorous Ultradent promotional gig attended by the cast, which probably accounts for the severely pissed off expression Miss Bliss is wearing. We're only part of the way through season 5, and I'm hoping she gets more to do soon. She's one of the more likeable actors on the show, and so far does little more than relay exposition.

    Brendan Fehr - Dan Cooper.
    I didn't even know his character's name until I just checked it out on IMDb. Dan is the lab tech responsible for pressing the notorious "Enhance" button when looking at videos (God bless the internet hero who came up with that concept; apologies for not attributing it properly). He can also isolate the sound of a flea farting in a recording of a Korn concert. I totally believe the technology exists to do this. Other than that, I think Wolfe threatened him once when he said something rude about Natalia. You'll have to forgive me for being vague. There has yet to be a point to Dan. I can only imagine he's there because the CSI: Miami producers were jealous of CSI: Original Flavour having Archie Kao as their tech guy. Either that or Adam Rodriguez was doing a solid for his Roswell buddy Fehr.

    If you've never watched the show before, hopefully now you can jump in and enjoy the various thrilling shenanigans of our heroes. Truly there is nothing on TV like it. That may seem like an erroneous statement, what with it being a spin-off with its own spin-off, but the other shows are utterly different. It has plowed its own furrow, and as a result is the most watched show on the planet, a fact that never ceases to amaze me. Long may it reign.

    Thursday, August 16, 2007

    Mission statement

    Years after the rest of the world has joined the blogosphere, and with only the vaguest idea of what it means to join that group, I'm here to blurt observations about pop culture and random events, and make the odd ill-informed comment about comics continuity that will reveal the lack of knowledge I have on the subject.

    I will also occasionally give praise to David Caruso, enigmatic leading man and inventor of the Caruso Two-Step, the most dynamic and dramatic method of leaving the frame yet devised. If you've avoided CSI: Miami thanks to its reputation as an ineptly written, over-directed, straight-faced semi-parody of the procedural genre, and haven't seen this powerful acting move, then shame on you, for you have not fully lived.