Thursday, August 30, 2007

Dogger a Sweet Story About Stuffed Pals and Brothers and Sisters

When I was a young'un of around six or so, I lost my favorite stuffed animal. His name was Seymour, and he was a little sea lion, a souvenir of a trip to Sea World. I carried him around with me everywhere and took him on long car trips. It was during one such ride that, while dangling him out the window so he'd have a good look at the passing scenery, he slipped from my grip, never to be seen again. Oh, I shouted for my parents to stop the car, but not for several minutes; I must have just sat there in mute shock, unsure of how to proceed. We did double back and make a diligent search, but Seymour was nowhere to be found.

So I sure do sympathize with Dave, the lad who misplaces his beloved, raggedy stuffed dog in Shirley Hughes' Dogger. Dave is an energetic young boy with an expressive face under a head of wavy blond locks. His older sister Bella loves to cuddle up with an assortment of teddy bears at night, and his young brother Joe, like Sunny in A Series of Unfortunate Events, is partial to hard toys that he can gnaw on. But Dave is happy as long as he has Dogger. He doesn't mind that the dog's fur is worn down or that sometimes he becomes so dirty from all that hard playing that he must give him a bath. Much like me, he wants to be sure that his favorite toy isn't missing out on anything, but one day he gets Dogger just a bit too close to the action. Will the two ever be reunited, or must Dogger suffer a fate similar to that of poor Seymour?

As much as I relate to the lost stuffed animal crisis, what I especially like about this book is the exploration of Dave's relationship with his sister. We first learn that she has so many teddy bears that there's only just enough room for her to squeeze into bed at night. Later, when the children buy ice cream cones, she gets a whole ice cream cone to herself, while Dave must share with his dribbly brother. Not that Bella minds sharing; she is all too happy to lend her sad little brother a teddy bear when she realizes he has lost Dogger. But when they go to a carnival the next day and she keeps winning, already-grumpy Dave isn't too happy about it. Everything seems to be going right for Bella; why can't he have the same luck? When his luck does change, Bella has a big hand in it, and it's touching to see this big sister going out of her way to make her brother feel better, even if it costs her something.

Hughes' writing style is engaging, alternating between comforting repetition, such as when she describes the various things Dave sometimes does with Dogger, and longer paragraphs the drive the action, such as when Dave accompanies his mother to "collect" Bella from school. Hughes' illustrations are lovely, full of earthy tones and tiny details. The carnivals scenes are especially fun to peruse since there is simply so much going on; one two-page spread features nearly a hundred different people roaming amongst the various booths, while another gives us a close-up of 13 children in elaborate costumes.

I'd never read any of Hughes' books before, but this one came highly recommended by my friend Beth, and I'm eager to check out more of them. If they're all as charming as Dogger, I have a lot of happy reading ahead of me!

Chicken-Dancing Elmo Takes Irritation to New Heights

Over the summer, my friend Libbie had a yard sale, and I was more than happy to give her my patronage - though given her generous nature, she wouldn't let me pay for anything I picked up except for the glass of lemonade I bought from her niece. So with my wallet scarcely depleted, I ventured around the block, dropping my dimes and quarters for a Pooh book here, a plush Meeko the raccoon there. I came home laden with bags full of beautiful shmoo, none of which I know what to do with. But the most glorious unnecessary purchase of all was something I snagged for a dollar in a garage where one of the women running the sale bemoaned its departure and another cheered heartily. My treasure? A Chicken Dance Elmo.

Sometimes, I just have to release that inner two-year-old. This is the same 26-year-old who gets a charge out of randomly blowing the quacking whistle she procured on a trip to Baltimore despite not actually riding on the amphibious tour bus for which it was a souvenir. Maybe I have a strange obsession with waterfowl, though I suspect it has more to do with an occasional fondness for annoying noise, and Elmo singing the Chicken Dance song certainly qualifies. I've loved the Chicken Dance all my life; it's always the part of the skating party or dance or wedding reception I most look forward to. But with Elmo's rather grating voice, which has grown increasingly tiresome since the Tickle Me Elmo craze and the brazen attempt by Elmo's World to take over Sesame Street, this is not a song you want to go on for several verses.

It doesn't help that although Elmo is dressed in a fuzzy chicken suit - albeit of a canary-yellow shade - he appears to be confused as to which animal he is representing. "Elmo wants to be a chicken! Elmo wants to be a duck!" he cries out gleefully, while I scratch my head, wondering what ducks have to do with anything and whether this might be a surreptitious trick of my subconscious, trying to get me to sneak in a couple toots on the duck whistle, which would clash so flagrantly with Elmo's dulcet tones. But then I am distracted by Elmo's dancing, which is reassuringly clunky; even I am more graceful than him, and am capable of performing each of the steps of the chicken dance, not just the wing-flapping and the awkward head-lolling between which he laughingly alternates.

It took me a while to find the right way to get Elmo in gear, but eventually I hit upon just the right spot on his left big orange bird foot, and away he went, while a press on the right foot yielded a surfeit of clucking. At the moment, he's been banished to the basement, but one of these days I'll bring him up again. Maybe for Halloween. He's in costume. And he's scary. And I'm scary, for bringing this startling contraption into my house. How long will he stay? Until his four AA batteries run out? Until Christmas rolls around and I think of some charming child a little closer to the age range of Elmo's intended audience, whose parent I don't particularly need to remain on friendly terms with? Who could forgive me for such a gift?

No, I think it's best I hang onto it myself, and bring it out only in times of intolerable silence. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a duck whistle...

Hiro Elevates Otherwise Dreary Heroes

Last summer, I went to see several movies at the theater and was surprised to notice that along with the expected movie previews, there was advertising for upcoming television projects. This was how I first heard about NBC's Heroes, a drama about several seemingly ordinary people who suddenly discover hitherto unknown talents. Initially, the connections between most of these super-powered are tenuous or nonexistent, so there are a lot of threads to follow at once. Eventually, however, the storylines intersect as these potential heroes discover that something disastrous is about to happen unless they join forces to stop it.

When I found out about Heroes, I was stuck firmly in an obsession with Smalville, so perhaps I was feeling especially receptive to watching a show about superheroes, though I suspect it would have caught my interest anyway. I've always had a fondness for science fiction; the nerdy Trekkie in me cheered when Malcolm McDowell (Generations) showed up, and I was even happier to see George Takei, who played Sulu in the original series, show up as the father of my favorite character. I'm not so sure how I feel about Zachary Quinto, who portrays the vicious Sylar, stepping into the uniform of my beloved Spock; I'm hoping I can banish his character's nasty shenanigans from my mind before I see the new Star Trek movie.

Despite the Trek connections, Heroes really has more in common with X-Men and other tales of several people nursing superpowers that generally make their lives more difficult. Indeed, few of the characters seem happy with their newfound abilities. Cheerleader Claire Bennet (Hayden Panettiere) is completely freaked out by her indestructibility, particularly when she begins to suspect that her doting but vaguely sinister adoptive father (Jack Coleman) knows more than he's telling. On-the-run mom Niki Sanders (Ali Larter) has little control over her violent alter-ego, while Nathan Petrelli (Adrian Pasdar) represses his flying ability, fearing it will harm his political campaign. Devoted cop Matt Parkman (Greg Grunberg) faces marital problems and job woes, so he's not eager to embrace his sudden mind-reading prowess. Professor Mohinder Suresh (Sendhil Ramamurthy) doesn't want to admit that his father, who dedicated much of his life to finding people with such genetic mutations, was onto something.

There are only two characters - among the good guys, anyway - who really seem to relish their otherness. One is Nathan's younger brother Peter (Milo Ventimiglia), a sensitive young hospice worker. At first, it's unclear whether he actually has any unusual powers at all, since all he has is realistic dreams to back up his conviction, though we soon learn Peter has an important role to play in this drama, though it isn't quite what he envisioned. By far the most enthusiastic character, and my favorite, is Hiro Nakamura (Masi Oka), a geeky, idealistic Japanese office drone who giddily discovers that he can manipulate time and space. As soon as he learns this, he sets out on a heroic journey, bringing his reluctant, cynical friend Ando Masahashi (James Kyson Lee) along for the ride. Neither speaks English very well, so the vast majority of their speech is in subtitles, which is rather unfortunate since the dialogue I am most interested in is also the easiest to miss.

Hiro and Ando also provide much-needed comic relief, and if it weren't for their thread in the story, I might not keep watching; this is a very dark show, and apart from them, the humor is very thinly spread. Heroes takes itself very seriously, as evidenced by the shadowy tones that permeate nearly every scene and Mohinder's sanctimonious voice-overs, which often begin and end episodes. And it's violent. Once the main cast of superheroes has been established, nearly everyone we meet afterward winds up dead, and not all the characters from the pilot will survive either. Much of the carnage comes courtesy of Sylar, a gifted clock-maker who desperately wants superpowers of his own and decides to seize them mechanically, by slicing heads open as if with a can opener and somehow surgically inserting the powers of the deceased into his own brain in a move rather reminiscent of Highlander. For the squeamish, pillows or other eye-shielding objects are definitely advised.

Is Heroes a good show? Yes, I'd say so, but I don't like it nearly as much as Smallville, LOST and Ugly Betty. I'll probably tune in again this year, but if Hiro is ever taken out of the picture, I'll bow out too - though that would free him up to score a spin-off... All Hiro, all the time; now that would be a show well worth watching!

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Ugly Betty Introduces Us to a Truly Beautiful Heroine

Summer is winding down. As compensation for this potentially depressing reality, the major television networks stand at the ready to distract viewers with a colorful array of new shows. The last few years have been good to me. Four years ago: Joan of Arcadia. Three: LOST. Two: Ghost Whisperer. And last year... Ugly Betty. All the summer buzz for this show based on a popular telenovela especially intrigued my mom, so we made a point of watching the first episode when it aired. We were hooked.

Ugly Betty is a bright, splashy, silly but life-affirming show revolving around one of the most engaging heroines ever to grace the small screen. America Ferrera, who wowed me a couple years back in Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, dazzles as the luminescent but gawky Betty Suarez, a plucky young Latina from Queens whose trademark look includes clunky red-framed glasses, a mouth full of metal and one fashion disaster after another. Her ensemble should pose a glaring problem, since she's just landed a position as the assistant to the editor-in-chief of Mode, a major fashion magazine. But Betty has a smart head on her shoulders and a soul brimming with goodness, so her common sense, cleverness and morality allow her to get further in this cut-throat business than anyone would expect.

It helps that her boss, Daniel Meade (Eric Mabius), is stepping into unexplored territory himself, having just been appointed by his father, magazine tycoon Bradford Meade (Alan Dale), to run the show. Mabius plays his role with a charming mixture of befuddlement and style. He's obviously used to the finer things in life, but as a rich playboy he's never had to go after them himself. Bradford - who in many ways is identical to Charles Widmore (the wealthy, dream-squashing father of Desmond's dream girl, Penny), the character he portrays on LOST - thinks having a frumpy assistant will help Daniel keep his mind on his job, but he never counted on the dramatic impact she would have on his work ethic and his overall development as a person. Daniel isn't a bad guy. In most respects, he's very decent, but he does have some unfortunate tendencies, and Betty soon takes it upon herself to go above and beyond her daily duties and act as his own personal Jiminy Cricket.

If Daniel soon begins to appreciate her, most of her other new associates come around much more slowly. She does find a fast friend in Christina McKinney (Ashley Jensen), an off-beat Scottish seamstress desperately trying to get her foot in the door as a fashion designer, but even after surviving her first nightmarish day on the job, she finds animosity around every corner. The most egregious offenders are Amanda Tanen (Becki Newton), a receptionist who's had her eye on Betty's job (and her boss) for ages, and Marc St. James (Michael Urie), effervescent assistant to icy fashionista Wilhelmina Slater (Vanessa Williams), who is determined to seize Daniel's power for herself.

Williams' presence is commanding, and she struts around the office like a slightly classier version of Cruella De Vil. Wilhelmina may not be ordering hits on spotted puppies, but she certainly isn't short on underhanded schemes, and Marc is incomparably capable of helping her carry them out. His favorite side hobby is teaming up with his best buddy Amanda and heaping the snark on Betty, who generally shrugs off their insults, which are usually veiled as compliments whose sarcasm she often misses. When I watched the pilot episode, I was powerfully reminded of 13 Going on 30, and Amanda particularly brought to mind the catty, back-stabbing Lucy, fellow employee at the fashion magazine where naive protagonist Jenna works. It's hard to say which of the office divas is more unlikable, but both manage to garner our sympathy before too long, rude remarks and conniving aside. Wilhelmina becomes downright cuddly during a mid-season arc involving laid-back millionaire Ted LeBeau (Brett Cullen, who I first knew as apparent goody-two-shoes Goodwin on LOST), while Amanda shows her vulnerable side as she pines after Daniel.

But among this troublesome trio, it's Urie who really steals the show, flouncing around the office with an impeccable wardrobe and sparkling smile, feigning friendliness to Betty even as he snaps unflattering photos of her and competes with Amanda to come up with the most scathing appraisals of their newest co-worker. Marc is cruel in a Simon Cowell-meets-Jack McFarland sort of way, but he's so darn adorable it's hard to get too perturbed about it, and no one can deny he's both a dedicated lackey to Wilhelmina and a faithful friend to Amanda. In a show marked by camp, he's probably the most over-the-top character of all, but underneath all that showmanship is a sensitive and sometimes even compassionate soul, which we see particularly strongly when Marc's mother makes a guest appearance late in the season.

Betty has more problems to deal with on the home front. She lives with her father Ignacio (Tony Plana), a tender, fun-loving widower who immigrated to America from Mexico 30 years ago. As health problems prevent him from working, Betty finds herself the main bread-winner of the family, though her saucy older sister Hilda (Ana Ortiz) brings in some cash selling herbal remedies. Ignacio is a refreshingly devoted father, but he has a few skeletons in his closet that cause a host of headaches when they come out to tap-dance across the kitchen floor. Speaking of dancing, Betty's pre-teen nephew Justin (Mark Indelicato) is like a miniature Marc with a little less 'tude. Ecstatic that his aunt has managed to land a position at the magazine of his dreams, the musical-obsessed, flawlessly garbed Justin takes every opportunity to sneak a peek at the inner workings of Mode, much to the chagrin of Santos (Kevin Alejandro), the macho absentee father who comes back into his life early in the season.

And then there's Walter (Kevin Sussman), Betty's high school sweetheart, who in the first episode cheats on her with the neighborhood floozy who's only using him for his discount at the electronics store. I recognized Sussman immediately as the mobster-threatened ninny from the Verizon Wireless commercial, and he's similarly the epitome of awkward here. He strives to win Betty back, and at first I rooted for their relationship; after all, four years together can't just be thrown out the window. But there is the matter of the infidelity, and the fact that Betty and Walter have zero chemistry with each other. Each of their scenes seems like an ungainly waltz, with Betty trying not to get her toes stubbed by the croaky young man who tries his best to be sweet but more often comes across as clingy, whiny and clueless.

Not so Henry Grubstick (Christopher Gorham), who, with his Clark Kent looks and C-3PO mannerisms, is every bit as geeky as his name suggests but is a Nerd in Shining Armor if ever I saw one. Time seems to stand still every time the glasses-clad accountant waddles over to Betty for some heart-fluttering small talk. Before long, her officemates notice right along with the audience that these two are perfectly poised to be the cutest couple in Manhattan, but Walter is only one of the roadblocks standing in the way of this storybook romance.

And storybook is a good way to describe this show, which veers ever so slightly away from reality. It's like a Kodachrome snapshot of New York City, packed with over-dramatic performances and unreasonably coincidental twists and turns, to say nothing of all the steamy secrets bubbling underneath the revered name of Meade. With its vibrant sets, snappy dialogue and winking scene transitions, it's candy for the eyes and ears. Ugly Betty doesn't try to take itself too seriously, as evidenced by the self-parody in the form of the Spanish soap opera Ignacio often watches, which usually features a gorgeous man and woman engaging in some sort of violent argument that turns into a passionate kiss. It is on this show that executive producer Salma Hayek makes her first appearance; she later returns for a mid-season arc as the editor of a new women's magazine with whom Daniel becomes smitten.

The show is steamy, with all sorts of torrid little affairs happening at once. Double entendres fly fast and furious and along with showing the sometimes seedy ins and outs of the fashion industry, it broaches such ticklish topics as transsexualism, teenage pregnancy and illegal immigration. While it aims for comedy and succeeds brilliantly, it also manages to be very touching, particularly in its treatment of family. While there is a clear contrast between the Meades' dysfunctional opulence and the Suarezes' wholesome near-poverty, the members of Daniel's family do find ways of caring for each other, and Betty becomes like a sister to him, providing both a stern guiding hand and a shoulder to cry on.

In the end, it all comes down to Betty, whose steps may be clumsy, whose clothes may clash, whose confidence may waver, but who never loses her kindness, her unswerving ethics, her absolute decency. Through the skill of America Ferrera, we see the American Dream in action, a regular girl without much cash or many connections making her mark on the world through a combination of ambition and integrity. I don't know if this year's fall season will yield a new show for me to get hooked on. But I know that season two of Ugly Betty is right around the corner, and that is a beautiful thing indeed.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Bears in the Night Provides Minimal Fright

When my brother Nathan was little, one of his favorite books was Stan and Jan Berenstain's The Bears' Picnic, in which Papa Bear leads his wife and son on a meandering hunt for the perfect picnic spot, so I thought of him when I spotted Bears in the Night at a recent library sale. Ultimately, this book has less in common with the Papa-Bear-Acts-Like-a-Dope stories than the Small-Bear-Has-an-Independent-Adventure stories. This is a Bright and Early book, designed for the most inexperienced of readers, and as such it is in league with the likes of Old Hat, New Hat and Inside, Outside, Upside-Down.

Instead of the simple verse of The Bears' Picnic, Bears in the Night is a series of directions that build upon each other, much like progressive songs such as the Irish Rovers' The Rattlin' Bog. It's a good way for children to learn the orienting words "up," "down," "at," "through," "between," "around," "over," "under," "in" and "out".

I find the illustrations somewhat perplexing because we get two glimpses of Mama Bear, who looks just like Mama from the vast majority of Berenstain Bears books, but she has six children - sextuplets by the looks of it - and there is no trace of Papa Bear. So I'm not sure just who this family is in relation to the one we usually see; maybe it's Mama's twin sister and six nephews... The bears' expressive faces, peeking out through a dark bluish atmosphere, tell more than the words, as they creep outside smugly, only to have their wide-eyed faces turn terrified as a loud 'WHOOOOOO" fills the air.

When I showed it to Nathan, he sarcastically commented, "This book has quite the compelling plot!" Okay, so an 18-year-old can breeze through it in all of about a minute and might not find the bears' climactic encounter with an owl on Spook Hill - "They don't call it Spook Hill for nothin'!" Nathan piped up - very impressive. But he would've eaten this right up 13 years ago...

Bears in the Night lacks the distinctive characters found in most of these books, and its plot so simplistic that no verbs are needed. There's not a scrap of dialogue; the entire narrative consists of phrases like "out the window" and "through the woods". But if you're looking for a spooky story for a tiny tot, this might just fit the bill, as it builds suspense without being too scary. So grab a night-light and read Bears in the Night!

Quidditch Through the Ages is a Nice Bit of Light Reading

I spent the first half of this year in eager anticipation of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which included re-reading the first six books in the series and any supplementary material I could get my hands on. So when I happened upon Kennilworthy Whisp's Quidditch Through the Ages at a library book sale, I snatched it right up. Several years ago, the book came out alongside Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them. I should have bought the two together, but I only purchased one, and afterward I could only find them as a double set. Now my collection is complete.

Quidditch is a small book J. K. Rowling wrote to benefit the British charity Comic Relief. Like Magical Beasts, it is presented as a replica of a book consulted by Harry and his friends, though while that book is actually one of their school books and as such contains commentary by Harry and Ron in the margins, Quidditch is the property of the Hogwarts library.

The notion that this book is housed in the library is slightly eyebrow-raising, since it is so short on pages and my impression has always been that just about every book in that school is hefty. When Harry takes this particular book out in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, it seems as though he pores over it at length, but with fewer than 60 pages, there's really not that much to examine. Moreover, I find the list of names and check-out dates in the front of the book a tad perplexing, since Cedric Diggory, Angelina Johnson, Ernie Macmillan and Terry Boot all seem to have checked the book out while school was out of session. How did they get back to Hogwarts and into the library? Doesn't that seem like an awful lot of trouble to go to for one measly book that, if it's as popular as it seems to be, must be available somewhere a little closer to home?

That said, this is a fun little volume celebrating Rowling's wildly imaginative fictional game. Praised by a number of famed witches and wizards including Bathilda Bagshot ("a veritable treasure trove of hitherto unknown facts about the sport of warlocks"), Gilderoy Lockhart ("he may well find himself sharing a photoshoot with me one of these days"), Ludo Bagman ("bet you anything it'll be a best-seller") and Rita Skeeter ("I've read worse") and prefaced by the venerable Albus Dumbledore, who wittily recounts his troubles in securing the book from the strict Madam Pince and provides some background on the charity whose efforts its publication supports, it offers a look at the history of the sport and some of its most notable figures.

While Magical Creatures is full of illustrations, Quidditch boasts only a few, the most interesting of which, for me, is a drawing of the Golden Snidget, whose addition to the game some two hundred years after its invention drastically changed it. While getting balls into baskets was still important and avoiding getting pummeled was crucial, suddenly the game's primary focus was on catching this tiny bird, a rather distasteful affair that nearly led to its extinction. Hence, the creation of the Golden Snitch, a mechanical approximation. I liked the environmental message in this section of the book as well as the explanation for how such an unusual element was introduced to the game.

Other changes to the game are chronicled, and we get a glimpse of different broomstick-related games that never quite took off as well as the various broomstick models. There is a discussion of how the game has been hidden from curious Muggles, an increasingly difficult task that at one point led the Wizards' Council, a precursor to the Ministry of Magic, to declare that Quidditch mustn't be played "anywhere near any place where there is the slightest chance that a Muggle might be watching." While this rule was relaxed somewhat, Quidditch does seem to have historically caused the Council and Ministry major headaches.

Also included in the book are descriptions of each of the major Quidditch teams, including the notoriously hopeless Chudley Cannons, the revered Puddlemere United and witch-only Holyhead Harpies, among many others. Each of the teams from the British Isles merits a paragraph, while teams from elsewhere in the world are mentioned more briefly. Unsurprisingly, there are a lot of creative, alliterative names and amusing anecdotes. There's even a brief excerpt of a play entitled Alas, I've Transfigured My Feet.

Quidditch enthusiasts will want this for their own library, and at four dollars - eight if you include Magical Creatures, which may be your easiest way of getting the book, and I'd recommend that one first anyway - it won't break the bank. It won't break your back, either, if you slip it in a book bag; unlike Hogwarts, A History, Quidditch Through the Ages really is light reading, so pick up a copy and take flight.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Hot Fuzz Gives Me the Warm Fuzzies

Earlier this year, I saw a preview for a British comedy that looked like it would be hilarious if only I could get past the violence, but it was my brother, who'd never heard of it before, who got to it first. As soon as he saw it, Nathan declared Hot Fuzz one of the funniest movies he'd ever seen. So funny that as soon as the DVD hit shelves, he bought it; last night I watched it with him, and my expectations were gloriously met.

As someone who strictly avoids horror movies, I never saw Shaun of the Dead, this film's predecessor, but if it's along the same lines - and Nathan assures me it is - I think I'd better check it out. Hot Fuzz is primarily a spoof of action movies, specifically those involving cops, though I detect a strong homage to Lord of the Rings as well, unless that's just my personal bias showing, though the discovery of the cameo of Peter Jackson as a man dressed as Santa Claus seems to strengthen my case.

Nicholas Angel (Simon Pegg) is a dour, excessively law-abiding copper in London who has gotten so good at his job that his superiors decide to send him away lest he make the rest of them look bad. This means going all the way to Sandford, a tiny town in the country where not much of anything ever seems to happen. It's won the award for best village for years, and Nick's new boss, the eccentrically jovial Frank Butterman (Jim Broadbent), assures him it's quite the safest place in England. That's not such good news for the talented, disciplined officer, who seems as though he'll go stir-crazy if he doesn't find something more interesting to do than chase after rogue swans.

It doesn't help that Frank pairs him up with his son, good-natured, dim-witted Danny (Nick Frost). Danny has more questions for his new partner than a child on the first day of kindergarten, mostly eager inquiries into the more exciting aspects of Nick's job in London. The nonstop chatter would almost be enough to drive the taciturn newbie crazy, except that, much like lovable tow truck Mater in Cars, Danny seems to be the only one of his new colleagues who doesn't despise him, and when mysterious deaths begin to arouse Nick's suspicions, it is Danny who stands by him and tries to crack the case despite the insistence of most of the townspeople that a double decapitation, an explosion, a death by church roof and an impalement with shears over the course of one week are all merely unfortunate accidents.

The tiny town is littered with colorful characters, including the obnoxious Andys (Paddy Considine and Rafe Spall), fellow cops who antagonize Nick as much as possible; the sinister Simon Skinner (Timothy Dalton), who owns an independent grocery store; Tom Weaver (Edward Woodward), who's a bit overzealous when it comes to his disdain for the living statue (Graham Low) who regularly offers his bizarre performances to passersby; unintelligible Arthur Webley (David Bradley), who is strangely fond of clipping others' hedges and collecting volatile weapons; pesky journalist Tim Messenger (Adam Buxton), who's always eager to put the worst possible spin on every situation; Martin Blower (David Threlfall), a careless driver, unfaithful husband and slaughterer of Shakespeare; Lurch-like lug Michael Armstrong (Rory McCann) and many others.

While the secondary characters are delightful - and Broadbent, always a treat to watch, is especially entertaining here thanks to his bizarre delivery and jolly demeanor - what really drives this movie is the dynamic between straight-laced, severe yet pitiable Nick, whose closest relationship upon arriving at Sandford is with his cherished Japanese peace lily, and wide-eyed, dopey-grinned, fun-loving Danny, who is brimming over with childlike innocence and enthusiasm. Pegg is entertaining as a generally composed man who learns from Danny how to loosen up a bit. Their tender scenes together, accompanied by soft lighting and Samwise-makes-an-inspirational-speech-style music, are touching, but Pegg gives his best performance when reacting with aghast incredulity as he learns the true motivation behind the string of murders.

Frost, meanwhile, perfectly plays one of the most huggable characters I've ever come across, despite the f-words that occasionally escape his lips. (The profanity in this movie actually wasn't as bad as I expected, and a special feature entitled Hot Funk amusingly dubs it for television.) As the movie progressed, I became increasingly concerned about Danny's safety, as his death would make a profound impact and might make sense as the culmination of the first true friendship of Nick's life. It would both be in keeping with Nick's lousy luck and might provide the impetus for some climactic heroics. Is Danny indeed headed for that big doughnut shop in the sky? I won't give that away, but the fact that a farcical film had me biting my nails in worry over one of its characters is testament to its genius. Hot Fuzz doesn't just make you laugh; it makes you care.

And scream, if you watch movies the way many people ride roller coasters: letting out a blood-curdling yowl whenever things seem a bit dicey. I don't, but my mom does, so while aside from the action-packed finale, each murder is immediately preceded by the blatantly ominous appearance of a robed, hooded figure, leaving plenty of time to avert my eyes, I did jump a few times thanks to my mom's vocal commentary, which came even though she too had her eyes closed. Suffice it to say that the deaths are gruesome, and the squeamish are most certainly advised to ignore the screen for a few key moments, but the vast majority of the film is perfectly benign, and the laughs and warm - make that hot - fuzzies render those brief scenes well worth enduring.

Monday, August 13, 2007

From the Beginning, Columbo Has Been a Brilliant Detective

A few months ago, my friend bought me the first season of Columbo for my birthday. When I saw him again recently, he asked if I'd watched it yet, and I had to admit that I hadn't; I'd been waiting for the right moment. That moment arrived this week when I decided to assemble one of the LOST: Mystery of the Island puzzles that's been lying in wait for me since Christmas. What better accompaniment could there be to such a brain-taxing activity than a few hours of genius observations by the lovable sleuth Columbo?

I've been a Peter Falk fan for as long as I can remember, and I've enjoyed many of his outings as Columbo, but I'd never before seen the movie that started it all. Prescription: Murder clocks in at around an hour and a half, and I was surprised that it took half an hour for Columbo to show up, but that makes his eventual appearance all the more satisfying.

There's more need for set-up in this case because of the elaborate nature of the crime and attendant deception. The murderer, Dr. Ray Flemming (Gene Barry), is a prominent psychiatrist who has grown tired of his wife Carol (Nina Foch). We know she's not long for this world when he ducks out of their anniversary party to hook up with a glamorous young patient named Joan Hudson (Katherine Justice), with whom he is plotting Carol's disposal. Though the murder itself is very simple, all the surrounding details are complicated and involve Joan impersonating Carol as they board a flight to Acapulco, then initiating a fight with Dr. Flemming and storming off while the doctor remains to enjoy his vacation so that he can return a week later, shocked by the news that a burglar broke into his house and killed his wife while he was away.

It's all very clever, and a lesser detective might have been fooled by the simple solution. But Columbo is a stickler for details, and Falk is both endearing and exasperating as the schlub who tails Dr. Flemming relentlessly, always seeking just one more insignificant detail. His apologetic manner and apparent absent-mindedness put him off his guard at first; by the time Dr. Flemming realizes how much Columbo suspects, the case is almost in the can.

I don't recall ever seeing Columbo lose his temper before, so I was surprised at how aggressively he confronted Joan toward the end of the film. I wasn't crazy about that scene, but given the circumstances it does seem to have been the right call. One can't help but feel sorry for the fledgling actress who isn't aware that her dear boyfriend is also acting, though I would be inclined to distrust the affections of anyone willing to murder his wife to get her off his hands. Justice strikes just the right tone of vulnerability, while Barry comes across as coolly arrogant. We don't see Foch for long, but we get just enough of her to see that she wasn't even an unreasonable woman. Establishing her as a sympathetic character hardens us further against her cold-hearted husband.

Because he is a psychiatrist, Dr. Flemming is perfectly equipped to describe Columbo's character traits, just in case we missed them. The lieutenant acts like he doesn't know what he's doing, forever losing his pen, claiming that his ideas are far-fetched, leaving questions dangling as he flits off to random subjects, sharing homey anecdotes that make him easy to relate to. Maybe some of this is real, but some of it is certainly an act, meant to throw people off. It's Columbo's signature style, and we see it again and again throughout all his cases. Whether you're a longtime fan or have never had the pleasure of meeting the character, take a dose of Prescription: Murder and see Columbo's brilliance at work.

Columbo Investigates a Writing Partnership Gone Sour

I've always found writing to be a solitary activity and thought it would be very difficult for two authors to write a book together; after watching Murder By the Book, I'm more disinclined than ever to engage in collaboration. In this Steven Spielberg-directed Columbo mystery - the first official episode of the series, following two pilot movies - Jim Ferris (Martin Milner) is the prolific, talented half of a successful Agatha Christie-style novel-writing team. When we meet him, the nerdy-looking author with thick glasses is pounding away at his keyboard, working on his first solo project, but his efforts are impeded by the arrival of a gun-toting Ken Franklin (Jack Cassidy), his bitter ex-business partner. Boy, it doesn't take long to get to the murder in this episode!

Actually, it takes a bit longer than that; as Jim points out, the gun is empty. Ken is just goofing around. He couldn't really be that upset about the dissolution of their partnership, could he? After all, Ken is an accomplished writer too, is he not? He should have no trouble maintaining his lavish homes on his own. Right? Not quite.

Ken thinks he has all his bases covered when he convinces Jim to call his wife, pretending to be at the office when in fact he is at Ken's cabin for what Jim thinks will be a night of reconciliation and male bonding. Joanna (Rosemary Forsyth) hears the gun go off, and when she calls the police, they find Jim's office in shambles. He seems to have been the victim of a kidnapping. Before Ken has time to get back into town and play the concerned friend, Lieutenant Columbo (Peter Falk) shows up to comfort Joanna with an expertly made omelet and coax a few details out of her to aid in his investigation. By the time Ken arrives, Columbo already knows who to suspect.

Because of Joanna, Columbo spends considerable time in this episode interacting with someone other than the perp, so it's interesting to see the slight change in his behavior depending on who he is engaging in conversation. While he still adopts a very folksy, unassuming demeanor with the bereaved wife, he doesn't try quite so hard to come off as a doofus. His starring performances are reserved for Ken, and while he's as brilliant as always at ferreting out the crucial details, it helps that Ken makes a glaring snafu along the way.

Falk is fantastic as always, while Cassidy is suave and Milner endearingly geeky. For me, though, the standout among this episode's supporting actors is Barbara Colby as Lilly La Sanka, a homely, widowed shop owner whose lack of resources and crush on Ken lead her to make a very foolish decision. Incidentally, early in the film, Ken gives Lilly an autographed copy of one of his joint novels; the title is Prescription: Murder, the name of Columbo's pilot movie.

Not only is Murder By the Book a crackin' good mystery, it offers some interesting insights into the world of publishing and the potential pitfalls of writing partnerships. Of course, one would certainly hope that rare is the writer who would turn to murder if his steady stream of income was threatened... In any case, Murder By the Book is well worth a look!

Monday, August 6, 2007

Matt Groenig Must Be Feeling an Immodest Amount of Pride in The Simpsons Movie

Back when The Simpsons began airing on Fox, I was a tot in early elementary school, and while my friends quoted the show and talked of its greatness, I scoffed, sanctimoniously declaring that I would never watch something so tasteless. I maintained that attitude for several years, but then my brother started watching the show occasionally, and the rest of the family got sucked in. And I realized that although it may be irreverent, The Simpsons is actually one of the most thought-provoking, spiritually stimulating shows on television. And boy, is it clever, skewering pop culture week after week - and I can't tell you how many parodies I watched on the show only to see the source material later and crack up again because now I really got the joke. The Simpsons is top-notch stuff. So I was looking forward to the movie.

And then I saw a commercial a few weeks ago in which a predictably dopey Homer clutches a pig around the middle so that it walks upside-down, leaving muddy hoof prints on the ceiling as Homer sings, "Spider-pig, Spider-pig, does whatever a spider-pig does..." Before I was enthusiastic; now I was obsessed, and the members of my immediate family soon wished I'd never seen that clip, since I was prone to bursting out in song at random moments. Yesterday, I finally got to see the movie, after having acquired the coveted picture of myself on the theater's promotional three-dimensional couch next to life-size replications of the Simpsons clan. And oh, was I satiated, with not one but three recitations of the aforementioned song, two of which were performed by a distinctly creepy choir. Delirium...

Matt Groenig pulled together most of the writers who've ever worked on the show to create a film that incorporates most of the characters who've ever appeared on the show. Well, no, that's a stretch, but certainly the regulars are out in force, and in the case of this series, that means a cast of dozens, though of course heavy hitters like Dan Castellaneta, Hank Azaria, Nancy Cartwright and Harry Shearer occupy a dizzying large number of roles. Springfield is a caricature of small-town America, and even big-town America, and it's riddled with folks representing different stereotypes. There's the Indian convenience store owner; the irascible bartender; the crazy old cat lady; the overweight, self-important comic book expert; the malevolent multi-billionaire; the smitten nerd; the school bully... The list goes on and on.

My favorite of these has always been the cheerfully self-righteous neighbor - in other words, Ned Flanders. I've heard complaints that the show is using Ned to poke fun at evangelical Christianity, and while it's true that there's some gentle ribbing going on, the fact remains that however much pleasure the bespectacled, mustached diddly-doodler might get from waggling his finger about, like Millie Kentner, the squarer than square ex-best friend of protagonist Lindsay on Freaks and Geeks, he's always someone who can be counted on for support when the chips are down. I suspect even Fred Rogers would have trouble living up to the neighborly ideal set by Ned Flanders. So I was very glad to see him playing a prominent role in this film as an unlikely mentor for Bart.

This happens when Bart finally gets fed up with his dad's self-absorption and immaturity after a dare goes horribly awry. It's during a dinner out after the most traumatic day of Bart's life that Homer meets the pig that will change his life when the Homer-as-clueless-father subplot meets the Lisa-as-frustrated-environmental-activist subplot and all of Springfield pays the price. The laughs come fast and furious, and the whole film exists within the construct of the Simpson family watching the movie while Homer complains that they could be seeing this stuff at home for free, but the film's messages are compelling, particularly the importance of environmental stewardship and of nurturing one's family.

As with most episodes of the show, you're likely to miss things the first time around, since some of the jokes are visual and pass by in the blink of an eye. Among the quickest flashes of humor are the glimpses of Apu changing the "06" in an expiration date to "08", Bart writing "I will not illegally download this movie" on the classroom board and elderly Abe Simpson perusing the magazine Oatmeal Enthusiast; there are dozens more where those came from. Because of my great fondness for Flanders, his subplot was probably my favorite, but the Spider-Pig stuff was hilarious, and it was rather exhilarating to see Lisa getting swept off her feet by my - I mean her - dream guy. And I have to give these folks props for really rewarding those patient enough to stick with the credits. Several short scenes pop up at unexpected intervals, right down the very end of the credits, and there's also an entertainingly pointless song, the singers of which seem to share Ned's contritely confessed sin of "an immodest amount of civic pride" in their little town.

If you've loved the show for years, you won't need convincing from me to go see the movie. If you've avoided it the way I did in the beginning, give the film a fair shake. You might miss a couple self-referential jokes, but on the whole I don't think familiarity with the show is much of a prerequisite for thorough enjoyment. Yes, there are bits of off-color humor, but only a smattering, and it's all handled very adroitly. Give The Simpsons a shot and see what you think. I sure am glad I did.

Sunday, August 5, 2007

Hairspray Exuberantly Examines the Notion of Otherness

I've been hearing a lot about Hairspray over the last couple years thanks to the enthusiasm of my young cousins, who were such fans of the show that they went to see it on Broadway. Aside from hearing the effervescent opening number, Good Morning, Baltimore - a grand hello to a bustling city that reminds me a lot of our beautifully boisterous introduction to Belle and her little town in Beauty and the Beast - on late-night and early-morning television, in the Macy's Parade and on Ugly Betty, I was pretty unfamiliar with the play, but all the buzz about it was enough to get me pretty pumped up for the movie when I heard that director Adam Shankman would be bringing it to the big screen.

Yesterday, my parents, my friend Libbie and I decided to see for ourselves what all the hype was about. What we got was a joyous kaleidoscope of slightly over-the-top early-sixties eye candy, with the darker edges of that era bubbling beneath the surface until they are brought into the full light of scrutiny when Queen Latifah's matronly Motormouth Maybelle leads a soulful march protesting the segregationist policies of The Corny Collins Show, the American Bandstand-esque television program that turns Tracy Turnblad (Nikki Blonsky), a starry-eyed teen with a heart as oversized as her pudgy frame, into an overnight sensation.

Blonsky is absolutely infectious in the lead role. The girl is a ray of sunshine, undeterred by all the obstacles that stand in the way of her dream of dancing on her favorite TV show, while also unwilling to compromise her principles for the sake of her ambition. As the film progresses, she becomes acutely aware of how the black students from whom she learns her best dance moves are oppressed, and she yearns to create an environment in which race need no longer be a barrier to opportunities. Just as she has broken down conventional societal expectations of beauty, she strives to show everyone that integration is the wave of the future.

Along the way, she dances her heart out and takes a few time-outs to sigh dreamily over Ricky Nelson-esque Link Larkin (Zac Efron), who gradually comes to see Tracy as a young woman of such substance that she overshadows his perfectly coiffed girlfriend Amber Von Tussle (Brittany Snow), whose conniving mother (Michelle Pfeiffer), the manager of the station on which the dance show airs, undermines the new girl every step of the way despite opposition from host Corny (James Marsden), whose dazzling smile gleams all the brighter whenever Tracy takes to the stage.

Her best friend Penny Pingleton (Amanda Bynes), a wisp of a girl with an omnipresent lollipop, ducks out from under the icy repression of her puritanical mother Prudy (Allison Janney) when she falls head over heels for Maybelle's exuberant son Seaweed (Elijah Kelley). Tracy, meanwhile, aims to bring her mother Edna (John Travolta), a frumpy laundress whose crippling self-image has long led her to eschew the outside world, into contemporary society. She's not an unreasonable woman; she's just insecure and set in her ways, and with a little nudging she is ready to support her daughter in her endeavors, though perhaps not as whole-heartedly as Tracy's gentle, eccentric father Wilbur (Christopher Walken), who achieved his own long-held goal when he opened a novelty shop, which enjoys an upsurge in business in the wake of Tracy's newfound celebrity.

Much was made of Travolta's gender-bending performance here, and he certainly immersed himself in the part, though I was never quite able to forget that she was actually a he, and neither was the rest of the audience, judging by the nervous titters that rippled whenever Walken edged in for a kiss. After his over-the-top performance in High School Musical, I wasn't sure what I would think of Efron, but he was much more nuanced here, even though he was in a similar role as a dreamboat who is startled into self-awareness by the arrival of an unconventional gal. I didn't think there was a weak link in the cast, and I give special kudos to Janney for making such a simultaneously humorous and terrifying impression in her brief appearances.

As someone with limited familiarity with the songs in this film, I was impressed by their energy and complexity. The lyrics in particular are very clever, perfectly capturing the various speech patterns of characters and often riddled with sly innuendoes that indicate this was not such an innocent time after all. Most of these are subtle enough that they would probably go right over the heads of youngsters, and there's little else in the movie that could be considered objectionable. Indeed, Hairspray is an ideal film for the family to see together, as the bouncy dance numbers and likable characters reel audiences in for a poignant lesson in the importance of accepting other people's differences. Don't miss out!