Showtime Showdown (Part 2)

Last year I wrote an article on Alterati about the lineup of shows on networks like Showtime and HBO that have taken episodic TV to a new level...

"Since the success of HBO’s Six Feet Under, many series on subscription based networks (HBO, Showtime, etc) have continued to up the ante on the theatrical and conceptual possibilities of episodic basic television. Though I do not envy the production team’s task on these projects- attempting movie-level quality at the pace of television- I have very much enjoyed the results."

(Read the full article on Alterati.)

All of the shows reviewed in the Alterati article are available for purchase through TLA, and I'll provide those links in a moment for those of you that are frightened by search boxes (I know I am.) Before then, I'd like to review a couple of other shows that have joined the fray-

True Blood

P.S. Yes. I know it's an HBO production. But "HBO and Showtime Showdown" just didn't have the same ring.

It's altogether possible that the vampire trope has reached a saturation point. (Or did that already happen in the late 90s?) While reactionary movies like 30 Days Of Night capitalize on the humanization of the vampire by taking it the other way, True Blood seems to be fully comfortable with it. Vampires are portrayed as highly sexualized creatures driven primarily by lust, and with the exception of their supernatural powers, and penchant for femoral arteries, they could easily pass for human. Without providing an actual tip-of-the-hat, True Blood seems to react to the core concept of White Wolf's Vampire: The Masquerade role-playing game: Vampires come out of "the coffin" because, thanks to the advent of a synthetic blood substitute, they don't need to be lurking monsters any longer. No more masquerade. (This provides an attempt at racial commentary, though thusfar it has been vapid at best.)

And this is also the greatest flaw in this show: cheesy, kitchy phrases like "out of the coffin," vampires that still dress like seventeen year olds at goth/industrial clubs that look like a Burning Angel promo party, a particularly humane vampire protagonist-- all of these things seem to get in the way of a show with some interesting, and often entertaining characters. I find myself wondering if the show would have been better if they got rid of the vampire "hook" altogether, though admittedly it wouldn't sell as well.

In that, we get to the next point. The hype, "viral marketing," and surrounding web extras are all painfully forced. Maybe it's because I work in this industry, or at least nibble around its edges, but it seems like the moment that viral and social networking marketing practices became institutionalized, they completely lost their point. What's "grass roots" about a the million dollar viral campaign for a multi-million dollar show?

Well, if you're like me, you'll likely find yourself wincing at quite a few things in this show- and yet, I still find myself watching it. Moreover, I find myself wanting to watch. At the end of the day- at least thusfar- this is a show that is made tolerable, if not exceptional, on account of the supporting characters: Tara Thornton, Jason Stackhouse, and Lafayette Reynolds in particular. It's fun, it's silly, and it's not at all what I'd expect out of Alan Ball.

Compared to his previous episodic series (Six Feet Under), I would call this show a painful failure. But that's only because Six Feet Under, in its best moments, reached the level of art. (I would say the same of American Beauty, though I realize I might get shouted down from the back row. Quiet down back there. You don't have posting access, alright?) True Blood is an entertaining respite, but you're not going to come away any better for having watched it.

The Tudors

On its surface, this show exists in the "loose historical adaptation vein" that Rome grew and ultimately (and mysteriously?) floundered in. However, I'm not altogether certain it couldn't be classified as historic softcore. In truth, Henry the VIII was far from a rock star, and he certainly didn't look like Jonathan Rhys Meyers (at least from the paintings I've seen), but he sure as hell was a bastard. That goes far in television these days. However, none of these are the sole reasons the show has done so well: it is well cast, well written, and well acted. For some reason it hasn't held my attention as well as some of the others, but if you enjoy literate, sexy historic drama, you simply can't go wrong with this show.

Personally, I don't enjoy rubbing my hands in anticipation of the next episode- I often wait for the season to finish and get the DVD so I can force feed myself an entire season of a show in a weekend. What can I say, I'm a glutton. So here they are:

Californication Season 1
Weeds Season 1
Weeds Season 2
Weeds Season 3
Rome Season 2
Rome Season 1
Dexter Season 1
Dexter Season 2
The Tudors Season 1

-- James Curcio.

A BRAND IS BORN

Today I’m going to give you a backstage pass in the exciting world of brand design, here at TLA.

I admit, technically this isn’t a film review. Hell, it isn’t even figuratively one- but I was told I could blog about “whatever,” so let’s see if that holds. If my posts stop, and I am later found, gnawed at by rats and cannibals in a back alley in Chinatown… well, you know what happened. Raise your glass to another patriot who died for his convictions.

For me, the process began about a week ago. I was told that we will be unveiling a new review blog, angled towards our gay male market. After much deliberation in the editorial and marketing departments, I was presented with the name of the new blog: “Homo Pop.”

Now when you’re presented with something like this as a designer, your job isn’t to make copy suggestions- it’s to “make it work.” (Project Runway can’t sue me for just saying that, right?) I’m not ashamed to admit that at first I was stumped. To the writer, and to the designer, the blank page is terrifying. You pace, think you’re nowhere, call your friends and ask for their condolences on your impending demise, appeal to higher powers that you don’t believe in, and then suddenly- you have something. Hammer it out in a flurry, and pass out in a pool of your own sick.

Well, that’s my usual process, anyhow. Don’t try it at home kids, I’m a professional. This time it was a little different. Around midnight I had a mighty hunger, a hunger so mighty that I actually walked down the block to the Chinese food place that seems to sustain itself primarily off of the “business” provided by crackheads and drifters.

While waiting in line, I blithely struck up a casual conversation with several of these crackheads about the economy, in particular the bailout and shrinking buying power of the greenback. One of the aforementioned crackheads made a brilliantly apt point: that he would love a bailout himself, in part, I would assume, to help him get some much needed fake teeth. It’s “corporate welfare,” another pointed out, while swilling an oily, paper-bag sheathed 40. (He offered me a swig. I politely declined.) These were some smart crackheads, I’ve got to tell you.

At this point I found myself staring at the wall, and my eyes drifted to an ad for popsicles and ice cream. There, in garish and awful Technicolor, was the solution to my problem. Eureka! Homo Pop. It’s a fucking popsicle.

Of course!

I pulled out my iPhone and quickly snapped a photo. This terrified several of the crackheads, and one of them asked me if I was “with the government.” (“No,” I replied ominously. “This is for… research.”)

Following this, the usual design process ensued. I won’t bore you with the details of the real meat of the design process- revisions, meetings, crying, revisions, masturbation, meetings, meanwhile my kidneys scream in pain from all the caffeine I’m force-feeding them. (Another element of my ‘creative process’: I punch them, scream “you like it, bitch!” and keep going. ) Here’s the final result:

Make sure to check out the blog when we launch it!

In case if you were just skimming this and need the cliff-notes now, here they are: new blog coming soon, a really unnecessary reference to Project Runway possibly for SEO reasons, some useless rambling about creativity, a group of surprisingly informed crackheads, and Chinese food.

Oh, if you’re wondering, the General Tso’s wasn’t bad.

--James Curcio.

Adventures in Marketing

HBO has just announced the DVD for George Wallace, a 1997 made-for-HBO movie that garnered some acclaim. Here is the original VHS art:

And here is the new DVD art:

I'm not sure what's more surprising: That Angelina Jolie's rise has been so meteoric that I can't even remember a time that she would not be on the box cover, or that Gary Sinise was ever popular enough to anchor the cover all by himself.

– David Gorgos

© TLA Entertainment Group

Shock the Bottle, Not The Monkey

And so we find ourselves in the second Dead Zone of the year - that odd period when the summer blockbusters are behind us but the winter awards season has not yet begun, and so we have but a tepid smattering of also-rans with which to amuse ourselves. It is, in other words, the perfect moment to go back and get caught up on those smaller summer hits you just haven't had time for. Like Bottle Shock, a charming festival entry that was one of the few films this summer to receive actually independent distribution.

Bottle Shock is being unfairly compared to Sideways. I can understand why people would make this comparison since they're both about wine, but it's sort of like comparing Blade Runner to The Transformers because they're both about robots. Where Sideways was a vicious little meditation on the emptiness of a culture populated by those bereft of soul, Bottle Shock is a feel-good dramady, loosely based on actual events the way I, Robot was loosely based on Isaac Asimov. The central event in this case is the Judgment of Paris, a 1976 wine tasting in France where California wines wound up taking the day.

At heart an underdog story, Bottle Shock spends a pleasant enough 110 minutes lovelingly caressing it's working class heroes in a remarkably authentic late 70s Napa Valley, the rugged wilderness that's just a quick jaunt up the interstate from San Francisco. After introducing us to our struggling band of plucky individualists (lead by an astonishingly ruddy Bill Pullman) who live on the constant edge of financial disaster, we're whisked to Paris, where one Stephen Spurrier (Alan Rickman, as usual oozing equal parts charm and smarm) wants to curry favor with the Parisian wine cartels, and conceives of a blind wine tasting to establish himself both as worldly and a slavish Francophile. By now we know how this story is going to end, even if we don't know the history, but the events that lead us to this conclusion fairly glow with craftsmanship and care.

This leads to the film's one weakness, as it can't decide what it wants to be - part road movie, part love triangle, part working-class-boy-makes good, it bounces between genres like a hyperactive Pong tournament. This tendency to lose focus is softened by the utterly grounded performances and rough-around-the-edges finish of the piece, perfectly capturing the Spartan simplicity of near-wilderness farming that California was known for prior to the age of silicon. As metaphor, however, the film wears its symbols openly and unapologetically on its sleeve. All the villains wear suits; the Napa women wear pants and are named Sam and Joe; and when our dashing young hero finally steps up to do the right thing, it's not out of a sudden epiphany of virtue so much as to avoid being perennially tagged a loser ("Did you realize that Woodstock was seven years ago?" he muses, laying flat on his back in a boxing ring).

Still, at the end of the day these are more tropes than missteps, and if the movie doesn't keep us in the grip of suspense, its lush cinematography and sweeping vistas nicely compliment the bouquet of earnest portrayals. As an exercise in the Commedia dell'Arte of Hollywood, Bottle Shock is well executed and joyful to behold. It won't expand your mind or change your life, but it's fun as a date-night film that will leave you smiling.

–Tovarich

NOTE: Since it is an independent film, Bottle Shock is playing in limited release. Check your local listings!

My Best Come-Hither Stare

If James is the cyber pimp of TLA Video, then you can think of me as a freelance prostitute who goes way back with him and won't join his stable, but maintains a friendly relationship, and we pass each other clients from time to time. In fact the metaphor works almost disturbingly well as a stereotype; I'm over-educated, bored, a bad fit for the workaday grind, and like to spend my time as I please, thank you very much. So here I am, ready willing and able to serve as the loose cannon of the TLA blog, unbeholden as I am to its corporate masters.

Which isn't to say that I'm here to stir up shit unnecessarily; even the most classless call girl knows better than to bite the hand that feeds. But as an outsider, my plan is to indulge you in the reviews of the movies that I enjoy, which may or may not tie into the larger revenue goals of TLA. Hey, they've got nine hard-typing worker bees in the column on the right, there - they can afford one dilettante with an agenda of their own.

What kind of movies are those? Well sure, we all loved the Dark Knight, but I tend to find myself wandering into the more oddball nooks and crannies. 70s exploitation classics, beaten-path-adjacent indies, the kinds of movies that no one likes to admit to seeing and even less like to admit to enjoying. Movies that we watch for hedonism rather than to appear cool. Some are stupid raunch and some will blow your mind. Many feature explosions.

–Tovarich

And before you ask: Yes, my name really is Tovarich. Yes, like really really. Yes, I know it's a word in Russian. Yes, I know what it means. No, I don't speak Russian. Yes, there is a story behind it. No, I won't tell you.

The TV Set

(2006, 87 min) Let me be upfront by saying that, though I am and remain a straight man, David Duchovny can do no wrong in my eyes. (Alright, he can do almost no wrong.) I have no particular interest in staring at his ass in the Red Shoe Diaries, but so long as the man is speaking, I’m listening.

I say this upfront because last night I watched The TV Set, and- though I felt like for some reason I shouldn’t- I really enjoyed it. And I think it wasn’t just because David was the lead. Admittedly, the humor was perhaps more lacking than it could have been, and the satire predictable, it nevertheless provided a surprisingly realistic and entertaining portrayal of why most television is an abomination. It also demonstrates what a colossal success it is when a show is actually half-decent- not because creating moving, honest media is difficult, although it is- but because the production process itself is seemingly hell-bent on mediocrity.

Knowing what I do about the film industry from the inside (I’m not just talking about TLA), I can safely say that it is amazing that films get made at all. Every step of the process is fraught with danger- unnatural dangers created by an unnatural, fear-driven industry. The same is true of television, only more-so: the industry that supports the production process is driven by fear, which drives the recycled shit sandwiches that we have all come to know and love. Sitting behind all of this is a public that glorifies escape, exonerates lazy artistry, and shies away from psychological confrontation. We get shit sandwich because it’s what the majority of us put on the menu. Don’t want it? Stop buying.

At this point you may be thinking, “thanks for all this, asshole, but I was kind of hoping for a film review, not a half-assed rant about the film and TV industry.” Well, consider it a “meta-review.” Because the film itself is an endearing, yet also half-assed rant about the film and TV industry.

If, on the other hand, you want David Duchovny to dial up the bitter and sarcastic dialogue, and throw a whole lot of gratuitous sex into the bargain, just take a pass and get Californication Season One. While watching The TV Set, I even found myself wondering if his character in this movie proved something of an inspiration for his character in the Showtime series, much as Sorkin’s The American President helped create the more polished West Wing. (“Mr. President? Since when did you become the Chief of Staff?”) But my guess is no: we may have a case of Duchovny just being Duchovny.

Thankfully, many of us like him that way.

--James Curcio.

Ghost Town

(2008, 102 min) While screenwriter David Koepp has built a solid reputation as a reliable hitmaker (Jurassic Park, Spider-Man), he has built an equally solid reputation as a director who consistently fails to live up to his ideas (The Trigger Effect, Secret Window). Even while demonstrating a rarely-seen lighter side in Ghost Town, this film winds up as weak-kneed and cliched as any other middle-of-the-road romantic comedy.

At least he had the good sense to cast three fascinating leads, even if they don't belong all in the same movie. Greg Kinnear plays the straight man, or straight ghost at least, wandering the Earth in a sort of high-concept purgatory. After a near-death experience, the insufferably antisocial dentist played by Ricky Gervais finds (much to his chagrin) that he can see these ghosts, all of whom seem to want something. Kinnear wants him to stop the pending marriage of his ex-wife (Téa Leoni), leading to the usual romantic comedy complications, of course.

Yes, you'd think that with all this fantasy floating about, that it would be used for more than setting up a series of misunderstandings and betrayals that ultimately lead to some sort of offbeat fuzzy ending. With those expectations now dashed, however, Ghost Town at least reveals itself to be an amiable timewaster. It's always a pleasure to see Leoni let loose in a screwball role, displaying talents that have been on the back burner since the days of Flirting with Disaster and "The Naked Truth." And it's oddly rewarding to see Gervais start out in his sardonic "Extras" mode and wind up believably warm and cuddly. The two together, of course, are severely lacking in chemistry, and Kinnear's usual ironic detachment isn't helped by his physical detachment to the other characters. Finally, while I won't spoil Kristen Wiig's part, which seems to have been lifted out of a whole other universe, I will plead for her to leave the stagnant SNL and become a big-screen star like she deserves.

– David Gorgos

© TLA Entertainment Group

By Way of Introduction…

Technically, my role at TLA is web designer. I’ve taken the liberty of adding “cyber pimp” to my job title, so as to give myself slightly greater leeway in terms of the tasks I can throw myself at. The way I see it, they hired me as an idea man, even if they didn’t know it yet.
So, before I get to reviewing movies for all of you, I’d like to pass one of these gems your way. It’s a new marketing incentive, and you are hearing it here first.
I want to push TLA to be the first movie distribution company to launch an ape into space. Now forget for a moment that there is no connection between film and strapping a primate to the end of a Titan missile. (Did I say strapping? Placing. Gently placing.) Also forget that it would be an incredibly expensive venture- I imagine the net cost per pound of monkey launching could be in the millions.
All of these things taken to mind, I recognize that this might be a hard sell in marketing. But American business is about taking bold steps, and more importantly, it’s about getting there first... even if it turns out there was no sensible or even sane reason that we should have taken the journey in the first place.
Just you wait. We’ll be the first to launch a monkey into space. And despite Blockbuster’s attempts to get into the space game, well. Clearly, they are outmatched. And clearly, I’m on the straight-arrow path to some lofty executive position with this idea. But until then, you’ll get movie reviews from me.
See you then.
- James Curcio.

Lessons from "Mad Men," or It Has Come to My Attention That There Is Entirely Not Enough Booze In This Office

My colleague, Mike, just brought a few ads to my office that he'd like for me to proofread. They're still sitting there on my desk. Now, if he had taken a lesson from "Mad Men", he would know exactly how to get what he wants. Mike would invite me into his office and offer me a drink, preferably scotch on the rocks. His secretary would assure our privacy while we shoot the shit about baseball (even though he's a Mets fan) and our mouths contemplate the nuances of the brown liquor. Firing up a stogie, we are relaxed with our defenses down, when he casually mentions some ads that he's working on, and would I mind taking a look? Why of course not, in fact, it would be a privilege to see a master at work. Checking the colors on "Bangkok Love Story," everything looks good, down to the typeface on the quotes and the correct British spelling on the overseas ads. Oh, what's this? An extra space between the punctuation and the end of the sentence... better take a closer look at that. Stubbing out my cigar, I say that I'll save the rest of this for our next meeting, and that it's always a pleasure to work with him. And could he maybe check out my blog when he gets a chance? Sure.

But there is no booze in this office. No smoking, either... you now must leave your office for a butt, which feels like a chore, and ensures that no work gets done on the smoking deck.

It has also come to my attention that we have no offices either. Just cubicles.

And no secretaries either. I guess in the big picture, the loss of office sexism is a good thing, but in the narrow, old-boys-club picture, you can certainly see why none of the privileged men wanted it to change.

Instead, I will have to keep watching "Mad Men", one of the few shows about the workplace that doesn't feel like work. Hard to believe that escapism can come from stressful jobs and societal expectations, but then, that may be what the elite think when they watch Clerks or High Fidelity. Season One was the best show of 2007, and season two is only getting better.

– David Gorgos

© TLA Entertainment Group

What's your favorite movie?

Roger Ebert posed this question on his blog, and for once I have an answer. I've found it very helpful in life to have stock answers for commonly asked questions. How are you? Fine. What's up with the Phillies this year? Inconsistent hitting. Why'd you become a vegetarian? I'm a finicky eater. And when someone finds out I work for a video company, people perk up and either ask "What's good right now?" or "What's your favorite movie?" Nothing is worse than watching someone hem and haw at a fairly easy question, so I have a stock answer that also usually leads to a pretty animated discussion. (Never answer Citizen Kane, Lawrence of Arabia or Gone with the Wind as the conversation will come to a crashing halt.)

The greatest movie ever made is Rear Window. Two deep characters that are impossible to not fall in love with, the sassy comic relief of Thelma Ritter, and a self-reflexive deconstruction of filmmaking and voyeurism in the film's perfect construction. Whenever this film appears on TV, I end up dropping everything and sitting down and watching it all the way through, and I can't say that about any other movie. It never gets old.

But my favorite movie is Jerry Lewis' The Ladies Man, a revelation that inevitably leads to discussion of Jerry and not the actual film. He carries a lot of cultural baggage, so I have to beg people to please, simply watch his movies. Interestingly, his essential book The Total Filmmaker outlines many tenets of comedy directing, culled from lectures he gave when teaching a film school course. While he was giving those lectures, he was directing One More Time, the nearly unwatchable sequel to Salt & Pepper, and seemingly ignoring every single lesson from his course.

But earlier in the '60s, Lewis was taking his inspiration from Frank Tashlin and producing some of the most innovative, insane and even breathtaking comedies since the silent era. The Ladies Man in particular had the innovation of "video assist," a hookup to the camera that provided a live feed that would become commonplace in just a few short years. It also boasted a massive indoor set that, in the photo above, looks like a dollhouse built to human scale complete with a functioning elevator. This set allows Lewis to set up beautiful physical comedy throughout the house unencumbered by the usual laws space and physics.

Interesting that, for me, two of the most cinematic films ever made take place almost entirely on two single sets. It's the opposite of the massive vistas that are always rewarded come Oscar time. Speaking of Oscars, despite co-hosting the ceremonies several times, Jerry Lewis has never been honored. How about throwing an award his way, perhaps the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award for his tireless commitment to the MDA?

– David Gorgos

© TLA Entertainment Group