Will is a member of the Television Critics Association and has written for Decider.com, the Onion A.V. Club, The Dissolve, Indiewire, Rhino.com, TV Week Magazine, The Virginian-Pilot, Popdose.com, and EW.com along with writing for Bullz-Eye.com and Premium Hollywood.
Whether you’re a casual TV viewer or a full-fledged couch potato, you probably know about the WGA writer’s strike that’s currently gripping the entertainment industry. Even at the risk of having both my livelihood and my viewing habits upset, as a writer myself (albeit not of scripts, although I do have a few projects I’ve been working on), I’m unequivocally on the side of the Writer’s Guild members in this battle; I’d prefer that it come to a conclusion sooner than later, of course, but when it comes right down to it, I want it to last until the writers get a decent share of the profits from the material they’ve worked so hard on. Besides, like I don’t have enough TV-DVD sets to hold me over ’til it reaches an agreeable conclusion…?
If you don’t really know what’s going on, there are plenty of places to get the scoop from a journalistic perspective, but I think you’ll get much more insight if you take info straight from the horse’s mouth, i.e. from some of the individuals who are actually doing the striking, and the best place to start is at at Mark Evanier’s blog. I don’t think I’ve seen a more succinct explanation anywhere as to why the striking writers are, well, in the right.
For the latest and greatest (or most depressing) updates on how things are going, check out DeadlineHollywoodDaily.com, where Nikki Finke provides about the best coverage that the ‘net has to offer. For alternate blog coverage, there’s also “Scribe Vibe” (Variety) and The Huffington Post.
I can still remember when I was first introduced to the music of Syd Barrett. I was hanging out with my buddy Bobby Fulford – he and I had been comrades in arms behind the grill at McDonald’s – and it wasn’t long after he’d begun to teach me the wonders of Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians when he said, “Well, if you like Robyn Hitchcock, you ought to love this guy, because he’s where Hitchcock got his sound from.” I’d never really been a big Pink Floyd fan (given how little album rock I’d listened to at the time, I probably didn’t know much more than “Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2”), but, still, I was surprised at the sounds I heard when Bob spun me efforts from Barrett’s pair of solo efforts, The Madcap Laughs and Barrett. The first album I ever got by Syd, however, was Opel, a collection of outtakes and alternate versions of songs from those two albums; in theory, it shouldn’t have been the best indoctrination to the man’s work, given its disjointed nature and the rawness of some of the tracks, but all I know is that I fell love with it in a big, big way…like, to the point where I actually had a poster for it adorning the wall of my college dorm room.
Hmmm…now that I think about it, this could be why no-one ever believed me when I told them I’d never done drugs.
In the wake of Syd Barrett’s death in 2006, there proved to be a considerable renaissance of interest in his work, both in the Floyd and as a solo artist, but he’d always maintained a consistent cult following. DVD efforts like “Syd Barrett: Up Close and Personal” and “Syd Barrett: Under Review” tried and failed to serve as definitive efforts of his life, times, and musical legacy; with “The Pink Floyd and Syd Barrett Story,” however, we come pretty darned close…or, at least, far closer than we’ve ever come before. In addition to new interviews with the four other members of Pink Floyd – Roger Waters, David Gilmour, Rick Wright, and Nick Mason – we also receive insight from former Humble Pie drummer Jerry Shirley, who sat behind the kit for Barrett’s solo albums, and we get a tour of Barrett’s old apartment from former roommate Duggie Fields. (Fields has lived there for years; in fact, it’s the very same apartment where the cover shot for The Madcap Laughs was taken.)
Bill Hicks once observed that “the musicians that made all that great music that’s enhanced your lives throughout the years were rrreal fucking high on drugs,” and while the documentary takes us on a trip from Barrett’s birth through his musical career to his final years, it ultimately serves as a cautionary tale of the effects of L.S.D. on the human brain. But since Barrett’s abuse led to him offering up some of the most creative, inspired music of the 1960s, I sometime find myself of mixed emotions when listening to it. Given how much I love his work, does that mean that I’m secretly glad that he fried his brain? That’s a road best not traveled, I suspect.
If you’re a longtime Floyd and Barrett fan, you’ll have heard many of these stories before, but it doesn’t make them any less fascinating, amusing, or depressing, such as when Roger Waters tells the tale of Barrett’s maddening “composition” that changed every time Barrett tried to teach it to him. (Its title: “Have You Got It Yet?”) We about the damage the drugs did on Barrett’s mood and how it affected his actions, about the excruciating appearance the band made on Pat Boone’s show, where Syd just sat there and stared at Pat, and, most importantly, about the day that the other members of Pink Floyd made the group decision to kick Syd out of the band by, uh, just not going to pick him up for their next show. As ever, though, the most disconcerting story comes when the band discusses how, while they were in the midst of recording a song which had been inspired by Syd (“Wish You Were Here”), they turned to discover that the man himself was at the back of the studio; it was the first time any of them had seen him in years, and he’d gained weight and shaved both his head and his eyebrows.
It proved to be the last time most of them ever saw him.
In addition to the documentary proper, there are extended versions of interviews with Waters and Gilmour. In particular, there’s a brilliant moment where Gilmour is discussing “Wish You Were Here,” then looks around the room and mutters something like, “If I could find the guitar, I’d play it for you.” But it’s obvious that he’s not looking terribly hard for it, and you can all but hear the twitch in the interviewer’s voice as he sits there, trying to say outright, “Um…if you want to look for it, I can wait!” (Thankfully, Gilmour does succeed in finding the guitar and playing a bit of the song.) Also included amongst the special features are a trio of highly enjoyable acoustic performances of Barrett compositions from Robyn Hitchcock and Graham Coxon; Hitchcock’s takes on “Dominoes” and “It Is Obvious” only serve to emphasize how much of his sound was borrowed from Syd in the first place, but Coxon’s “Love You” proves downright revelatory, bringing to light how much Blur’s “Parklife” actually sounded like an early Pink Floyd track.
If you’re a fan of Pink Floyd’s album rock standards, like The Wall and Dark Side of the Moon, but you’re not familiar with how the band got their start, you owe it to yourself to get an education via “The Pink Floyd and Syd Barrett Story.” You might not enjoy the music from the Syd Barrett era as much as the stuff that’s gotten played ad nauseum for all these years, but it might surprise you how much the band’s changed since their original songwriter “retired.” (If you do enjoy it, however, you might want to hunt down the extended version of this film, which contains far more extended interviews.)
It’s hard to wrap your head around the idea of a woman in her 90s who, after deciding that she’s fed up with the current political climate, makes the decision to run for office. It just doesn’t sound…real. In fact, at best, it sounds like a TV movie that’d star Ann Guilbert and air on Lifetime, probably nestled between reruns of “The Nanny.” But the story of Doris “Granny D” Haddock is one that’s 100% true…and if you live in her home state of New Hampshire, you’re probably already way more familiar with her than I am, given how much media attention was given to her 2004 senate run.
Granny D – who sounds exactly like I always imagined the character of Lacey Davenport, the long-running character in “Doonesbury” would sound (possibly because they look remarkably similar) – famously walked across the continental United States in 1999 to advocate campaign finance reform (yes, really), but it wasn’t until a few years later that she finally decided to do something a bit more proactive and actually jump into the New Hampshire Senate race.
The film opens with Granny D working a local street corner, asking passersby if they’re registered to vote…and, man, if you’re not going to stop and talk to a sweet-looking 94-year-old woman when she asks you an innocuous question like that, you’ve clearly got a heart of stone. Maybe that’s why her campaign proved more successful than anyone ever would’ve imagined, including Granny herself…but, more likely, it was because she actually talked sense and avoided doublespeak.
Hey, just sounding like a human being and not a rhetoric-spewing machine means you’ve got a shot at earning my vote.
History has already revealed that Granny D didn’t end up winning her Senate race, but as with so many documentaries, the story is less about the ending and more about the path to get there. She wins our hearts when, after being asked her position on gay marriage, simply responds, “I’m for love.” Later, when it’s determined that there aren’t sufficient campaign finances to pay for any television commercials, Granny offers to pay for them by taking out another mortgage, a plan which her campaign manager wisely steers her away from doing, but the mere gesture makes us swoon. Of course, there are also some painful moments within the film as well, including the scene where Granny was shafted Howard Dean when she requested and was granted a photo opportunity with him, only to have him depart from the speaking engagement without so much as a “sorry, can’t do it.” And it might just be my personal connection to the disease, but a tremendous wave of sadness swept over me when she spoke of her husband having suffered from and subsequently passed away as a result of the effects of Alzheimer’s, then followed it with the revelation that she’s had to watch her daughter develop it as well. There’s also a sadly sweet moment at the end of film, immediately after the election, where she kneels at her bedside and prays to God, asking him how she might repay those who got behind her and cared enough to give her their votes.
Okay, okay, dry your eyes…and don’t worry: there are moments of levity, too. (My personal favorite comes when Granny D tells the story of how Woody Harrelson once got her high. It’s classic.)
“Run Granny Run” occasionally gets bogged down in political discussion…which, given its topic, isn’t surprising…but in addition to providing a lovely character study of a woman who’s found a new lease on life simply by doing what she can to help save the country that she loves from those who would steer it in the wrong direction, it reminds the viewer that anyone can change the world if they put their mind to it. Given how close Granny D came to winning her Senate race – she got 34% of the vote – despite a tremendously limited budget and with a campaign that involved little more than being a nice person with a strong opinion, maybe more of us should remember her actions the next time we start to get frustrated with the Democratic process.
After all, if she can give it a shot, there’s no reason we can’t.
First off, how cool was it to have Hiro say, “Previously on ‘Heroes,’” except in Japanese rather than English, with the logo translated accordingly as well?
Hiro’s doped up on opium back in the 1600s until his new lady love proves that women should never be underestimated. (How could that not occur to anyone? Surely that little fact was pretty well-documented even then!) Poor Hiro is still hopelessly naïve when it comes to believing in the inherent good in all people. Oh, well, at least it made for a good swordfight…not to mention a hell of an explosion! It didn’t occur to me ‘til Hiro was sorting through the rubble that Kensei had the power to heal and might well have managed to survive the explosion, but when things wrapped up, I began to think I’d been on the wrong track. (More on that in a moment.) I liked how it turned out that the final Kensei story was a metaphorical one, based on Hiro…and for as long and drawn out as I felt Hiro’s storyline in Japan was, it was still a very sad yet sweet ending. But, c’mon, how awesome was his reunion with Ando? Well, I mean, until Ando had to tell him that his dad was murdered, anyway; talk about your buzzkill.
So I’m thinking “making waffles” could be a new sexual euphemism…well, if it isn’t already one, that is. But swinging by Claire’s house for breakfast confirmed for me once and for all that AngelBoy is totally a stalker. Well, okay, maybe he isn’t, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t still relish watching him get comPLETEly freaked out when he realized who Claire’s dad was. Speaking of her pops, it looked like we weren’t going to be getting much of him this week after that scene at the beginning where HRG and Brother Voodoo were going all “burn, baby, burn” on Isaac’s paintings. My question, though, is this: was it really all that great that we got that Bennett family scene toward the end? It was pretty melodramatic and felt less like a “Heroes” moment and more like something from “Dawson’s Creek.”
Mohinder starts out sitting by Molly’s side, with Nikki…erm, Jessica…watching him every minute until Matt and Nathan show up to warn Bob about Matt’s dad. “Now is not the time to recant the past,” says Bob. Yeah? Well, when the hell is? Bob indicates that Matt might share his father’s power, even if he hasn’t exercised it to its fullest. Matt doesn’t believe it, so he goes to vent to Molly, who manages to hear him through her coma. Aw, what a “love conquers all” moment…rather the antithesis of the creeptastic moment when Jessica…erm, Nikki…was visited by her late husband. Actually, Matt’s scene with his dad looked for a second like it was going to get as melodramatic as his “I love you” scene with Molly before it took that rather dark turn toward the end…and, of course, it finally got there with the big Matt / Molly embrace which closed it. “Adam is…complicated,” sayeth Bob, during his decidedly dark conversation with Matt. Yeah, complicated and then some. So Linderman was Adam’s disciple? That little revelation spoke volumes about the dude. I’m sure a lot of people cheered when it was revealed that Nikki…erm, Jessica…oh, screw it, I’m gonna start calling her Nikica again. Anyway, when it was revealed that she was stricken with the Shanti virus, I know a lot folks were, like, “Goodbye to bad rubbish,” but, hey, lately, I’d rather see her story unfold than Claire’s.
Peter and his new Irish lass are in 2008, in a version of New York City that’s been ravaged by disease…the Shanti virus, to be specific. The government official painted a dark picture of the future, but as soon as Peter’s mother showed up, I immediately began wondering, “Is this whole thing just something that’s been constructed by Adam?” And then look who walks in at the end of the episode. Better yet, Adam is Kensei!
Even though Premium Hollywood has never claimed to be as much of a “guys portal to the web” as its parent site, Bullz-Eye.com, it still might seem a little iffy for me to recommend a documentary that puts a spotlight on Broadway musicals.
Look, here’s the deal: one of my first attempts at winning the heart of a girl found me trying to impress her by showing her that I was a fan of “Annie.” The bad news is that I didn’t get the girl, but, hey, the good news is that it’s been almost 25 years, and I still know most of the words to “We’d Like To Thank You, Herbert Hoover.” But, anyway, my point is that I’ve had a soft spot for musicals longer than I’ve had a soft spot for The Beatles, so it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise to you that I found a lot to enjoy about “Show Business: The Road to Broadway,” a documentary which follows the birth, premiere, and, in some cases, death of four new musicals.
“New,” of course, is relative to when the motion picture was filmed, which was over the course of the 2003 – 2004 Broadway season, and the four musicals from that particular season to receive the spotlight are “Wicked,” “Avenue Q,” “Caroline, or Change,” and “Taboo.” At the time, director Dori Berinstein had no way of knowing which would flop and which would prosper; obviously, history has revealed to even the most casual observer of Broadway musicals that “Wicked” turned out to be a wicked big hit, while those of us with a slightly more subversive sense of humor are probably also aware of the puppet-driven “Sesame Street” parody of “Avenue Q,” which proved to be enough of a success that it spawned a highly-touted run in Vegas. (It only ended up running for nine months, but, still, at the time, it was highly touted.) “Taboo,” based on the life and times of the ever-flamboyant Boy George, suffered as much from the ever-loud mouth of the woman who bankrolled it, Rosie O’Donnell, closing after only 100 performances, while “Caroline, or Change,” the musical from Tony Kushner (“Angels in America”) did just slightly better, making it to 136 performances.
With “Show Business,” however, the real fascination comes from watching these musicals along the way, including the casting process, the composition of the songs, the building of the sets, and the struggles against the critics. In fact, throughout the film, we pop in on a round-table luncheon of several of the New York theater critics, all of whom prove to be so catty and bitchy that they’re practically walking clichés; despite mouthing off about what’s hot and what’s not in their eyes, they still know their place, because after virtually all of them sit around trashing “Wicked,” one voice of reason in the crowd pipes up, “And it’s making a million dollars a week, so that shows you our influence!”
Perhaps we should’ve known that “Taboo” was doomed, if only because it was predominantly bankrolled by Rosie O’Donnell, who, at the press conference to introduce the musical to the New York crowd (it had already premiered in London, which is where she discovered it and fell in love with it), immediately started mouthing off about how it was essentially critic-proof. That’s as may be, but for a show to last for the long haul, it’s got to be something that the masses are willing to embrace…and God love Boy George, but it’s one thing for people to latch onto a guy wearing a dress, but it’s quite another for them to latch onto a guy who, at the same press conference, looked like this:
When “Taboo” inevitably flops, the person you end up feeling sorry for is its star, Euan Morton, who clearly loves the show (and, for the record, has a fantastic voice) and, when it closes, gets the dual slap in the face by being informed that A) he’s out of a job, and B) he has to leave the country, as his work visa is no longer valid. Ouch. Meanwhile, the “Avenue Q” guys are so down to earth that you’d be rooting for them even if you didn’t know how brilliantly funny their musical is; they’re proud of their work, but they’re not egotistical about it. One of the creators’ dads is caught on camera as they discover they’ve been nominated for several Tony Awards, and although he’s pleased as punch, he can’t help but point out with a grin, “This guy couldn’t hold a job at TCBY, and how he’s been nominated for a Tony!” “Caroline, or Change” didn’t really grab me as a musical, although its star, Tonya Pinkins, certainly came off as a pleasant, real individual; I was, however, instantly smitten with “Popular,” from “Wicked,” as sung by Kristen Chenoweth…like, to the point where I might have to download it from iTunes. But just that one song, I swear…
In addition to the four productions which receive the majority of the attention, there are occasional glimpses at other shows, too, including a montage which is intended to show that not every show is around for the long haul. Proof positive: “Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All,” starring Ellen Burstyn, survived for precisely one performance, while “Bobbi Boland,” starring Farrah Fawcett, never even made it out of previews to have its formal debut. Oh, yeah, and there’s also a priceless clip from the 2004 Tony Awards which finds the unlikely duo of LL Cool J and Carol Channing presenting an award.
LL: “It’s time to read the nominees.” Carol: “I’m down with that.”
As God as my witness, she really says that. It’s awesome.
Anyway, “Show Business: The Road to Broadway” is really an interesting look at the trials and tribulations that a show goes through before, during, and after premiering on the Great White Way. If you’re a testosterone-pumped manly man, you probably won’t even be able to pick up the box, but if you’re comfortable in your masculinity and enjoy a good show tune mixed with a bit of high drama, you’ll definitely find it worth checking it out.
