These books are crack on paper.
I picked up the first book, "Guilty Pleasures," because I was killing time
in a bookstore and it had been recommended by a friend whose taste I trust.
I bought the paperback and a chai freeze, and sat down to read.
By the time I finished the chai freeze, I was so hooked that I bought the
second book on my way out the door. A week later, I was on the fifth book.
I read through the tenth book as quickly as I could buy them.
They're that addictive.
I'll be honest - as a die-hard horror fan, I've never really been nuts
about vampires. Anne Rice drove the stake through the heart for me. Even
Stephen King admitted the sexual engine that powered the early classic
Dracula movies may have run out of gas in our somewhat less structured
age.
But Hamilton strips away the melodrama and pretensions of the average vampire
story and sets heroine Anita Blake in an alternate history where vampires
and werewolves are legal citizens. It's an uneasy peace between live and
undead, and as a registered vampire executioner, Anita Blake is right on
the frontlines.
On the surface, Anita Blake should be no one's hero. She executes vampires
and raises zombies for a living, and freely admits to an anti-undead prejudice.
I've never read a character who was more committed to staying alive, no
matter what the cost to others. She kills in self- and other-defense in
every book, and sometimes the body count is high. She admits to feeling
little remorse for killing, and worries that she is developing into a sociopath.
In later books, she is caught in the strangest of love triangles: the fierce
vampire-killer is in love with a vampire herself, and with a tender-hearted
werewolf. Needless to say, it gets tricky.
If there's a place where the series falters, it's in Anita's inability
to choose between these two men. A woman who doesn't hesitate to shoot
first and ask questions later isn't likely to get bound up between Jean-Claude
the vampire and Richard the werewolf for more than a book or two. Also,
the sex gets progressively weirder and more graphic in every book. I'm
no prude, but I'm not nearly as interested in Anita's sex partners as I
am the beastie-of-the-week.
Still, I must recommend them, in the interest of creating fellow addicts.
Read them in order, or you'll be hopelessly confused. And you may find
yourself wearing a cross and a .357 loaded with silver bullets, not necessarily
in that order.
I have since berated my friend for getting me hooked on these books. Having
spent all my money on paperback novels, I'm now broke. She said, "I just
suggested you read the first one."
I replied, "Yeah. The first hit of crack is always free."
Red Dragon
Anthony Hopkins,
Edward Norton
The main thing that has saved much of Thomas Harris’ books from being merely
above-average cop-vs.-serial-killer novels is the brilliant acting of Anthony
Hopkins.
So thank heavens, in this prequel to “Silence of the Lambs,” Hopkins’ Hannibal
Lecter is behind bars where he belongs. In fact, I believe Lecter is more
frightening in his cell than in the abysmal “Hannibal,” where he is free
to torment us in public.
In his cell, Lecter is limited to messing with our minds. It is a game
he plays very well.
I must admit, I was worried about “Red Dragon,” since I had already read
the book. What could possibly surprise me? Except that made it even worse
- I knew what was coming, and it was inevitable.
Norton does an excellent job as a low-key Will Graham, the FBI profiler
who first caught Lecter. The opening scenes, detailing how Graham caught
Lecter, were very well-done - and horrifying. Let’s just say Hannibal the
Cannibal gets his nickname honestly.
Let’s just insert my standard diatribe against the poor portrayal of the
press in modern cinema here. The evil reporter in this movie is a tabloid
writer, and therefore exempt from the SPJ code of ethics. Someday, someone
will write a movie that includes an ethical reporter. Someday.
The rest of the supporting cast knows they’re background for the main trio.
Harvey Keitel does a more gruff and emotional Jack Crawford than predecessor
Scott Glenn. Emily Watson is striking as a blind woman unknowingly dating
a psychopath, and Mary-Louise Parker is sadly underused as Graham’s wife.
Lest I forget the main villain, Ralph Fiennes does a brilliant job with
a much more complex and believable psychotic than Jame Gumb in “Silence
of the Lambs.” His complex delusions, savage killing and pathetic attempts
to strive for normalcy make him much more three-dimensional than any stock
serial killer of recent memory.
It’s almost too bad Fiennes is stuck in the same movie with Hopkins. Lecter
always steals the show.
Ghost
Ship
Julianna
Marguiles, Gabriel Byrne
Okay, so I figured it out forty minutes into the movie. It's only ninety
minutes long, and it's fun while it lasts.
Moderate gore, a few really good chills and an eminently predictable plot
make "Ghost Ship" a real popcorn movie, good to cuddle with someone and
cover your eyes at the appropriate moments.
Three things save "Ghost Ship" from medocrity. The first is Julianna Marguiles,
in a solid and grounded role as an intelligent, capable, strong woman in
a leadership role. I've harped on the lack of strong female characters
in action, science fiction and horror movies often enough that I won't
bother to repeat myself. Suffice to say Marguiles was refreshing and hopefully
a portent of better things to come.
The second saving grace is the script, which thankfully avoids too many
cliche statements and "I've got a bad feeling about this" forecasting.
Only the sadly under-used Isaiah Washington as the token black gets stuck
with whining, "I should have called the Coast Guard." What was your first
clue? If there is a place where the movie stumbles, it's in his character's
willingness to copulate with a ghost, throwing everything established about
her character out the porthole. And he's engaged, too. Tsk, tsk. Seriously,
it's a poor choice for the character and for the movie. Surely there could
have been a better way to accomplish the, er, goals of the scene.
Overall, the cast does an excellent job, a much better level of acting
than these screamfests usually attract. And there is a blissful lack of
"Boy, was that STUPID." For the most part, they make the right choices,
not that it will save them. Heh-heh-heh.
The third saving grace is the first ten minutes of the movie. I can't tell
you what it is. Just be sure to show up at the theater on time, and don't
bother with the popcorn. You won't have an appetite.
Signs
Mel
Gibson, Joaquin Phoenix
Like about 80 percent of the movie-going public, I loved "The Sixth Sense"
and was partially befuddled by "Unbreakable."
Comic book fans cheered the second movie, but even creator M. Night Shmayalan
admits that it was focused toward too narrow an audience.
No such worries with "Signs." Critics are already referring to Shmayalan
as the new Hitchcock. It's a comparison that certainly comes to mind, both
with Shmayalan's unerring ability to create suspense out of any setting
and the music that draws us into Mel Gibson's cornfield.
Only Hitch never did anything as outlandish and still believable as Shmayalan's
work.
The argument most people use against science fiction is that it's unbelievable.
They simply cannot suspend their disbelief without a crowbar. I hear the
same arguments against supernatural horror, fantasy and even musicals.
"I just can't believe that many people in one town can sing and dance like
that," was the way a friend once put it.
There can be no such argument against "Signs." We barely see the forces
moving against Gibson and his family, isolated on their farm and staring
at the symbols flattened into their cornfields.
But like the best horrormeisters, Shmayalan's movie is not about aliens,
crop circles or even the panic that sets into the family. It's about faith,
God, and the strange coincidences that add up to fate and destiny in everyday
human life.
"Signs" deserves recognition from the Oscars as a purely brilliant piece
of writing and filmmaking. Gibson is brilliant as usual, and Phoenix continues
to build a reputation as a skilled actor, the kind of actor his brother
River was developing into when he died so tragically young.
Don't be fooled by the wonks who say that horror and science fiction are
simple monster tales to rush your adrenaline and have no artistic value.
They miss the point. "Signs" hammers it home.
Road to Perdition
Tom Hanks, Paul
Newman
This may be the best movie that no one knows came from a comic book.
Tom Hanks can start writing his next Oscar speech now, as he pulls off
the role of a mob hit man tortured by his profession.
We've all seen the button-men before, most notably in the "Godfather" movies.
We've even seen the mob men who regret the monsters they have become, especially
as Al Pacino's Michael Corleone repented of his ways.
But Hanks has a different style. At the same time as we see his moral repugnance,
we also see a hard, cold man who will not relent, who cannot be reasoned
with or stopped, even as his conscience still speaks to him.
The supporting cast is also strong, with Jude Law as a psychotic shooter
sent after Hanks and his young son after the son witnesses a murder; Paul
Newman as the family head and Hanks' surrogate father; and the unknown
Tyler Hoechlin, who breaks out in fine style as Hanks' son.
It's hard to know how to feel about this movie. In the "Godfather" movies
and a number of other mob movies, you root for the bad guys without a twinge
of guilt.
But Hanks is hard to like, even as we understand his motives. That's enough
of a departure from the likable star billed as the new Jimmy Stewart.
"Road to Perdition" has quite a few things to say about forgiveness, expiation
of sin, and the complex relationships between fathers and sons.
The acting is top-notch all around, and Hanks continues his reputation
as a top-billing actor who doesn't let his ego take up half the movie poster.
As far as mood and pacing, let's just say you won't be bored.
BOOKS:
The Diary of Ellen Rimbauer
By
Ridley Pearson
The book was not written by Stephen King, but by a ghost writer. Pardon
the expression.
It's supposed to be a diary, so Pearson's name doesn't actually appear
on the book. Either way, he's not Stephen King. Unfortunately, King's lack
of involvement shows in its style, word choice and pace. Released as a
companion to the King miniseries, "Rose Red," it details the backstory
of a haunted house that wreaks havoc on King's characters.
True, Rose Red is a creepy house. (see previous
review) But I choose to evaluate this book as a stand-alone, except
for noting an amusing cameo obviously intended as a direct homage to King's
own cameo: a tall, thin man with thick glasses and a noticeable limp delivers
a message to the house, just as King played a pizza deliveryman in the
miniseries.
We follow Ellen Rimbauer from her virginal girlhood into a marriage basically
dictated by the traditions of turn-of-the-century Seattle. Her wealthy
husband builds Rose Red... and builds... and builds... The house keeps
growing and changing, and people begin to disappear within its halls.
That's creepy enough. But the diary reads like a mildly supernatural potboiler.
The scenes of Ellen's struggles with her own sexuality are more vivid than
Rose Red's supernatural shenanigans. As a female reader, I found myself
more afraid of Ellen's husband than the house itself.
I just never could get behind Rose Red as a haunted house, either on television
or in print. Compare that with the chilling, taut novel that "The Shining"
was, even more so than the Kubrick film. You could fear Jack Torrance's
next move. But the house was bigger and badder than any human being.
In the end, I felt sorry for Ellen Rimbauer and for all the victims of
Rose Red. But I was also glad when the book was over, and felt no desire
to pick it up again.
If you want to try a real haunted-house book, try the aforementioned "Shining,"
or perhaps Anne Rivers Siddons' "The House Next Door." That's a haunted-house
story.
MOVIES: The Sum
of All Fears
Ben Affleck,
Morgan Freeman
Calling this movie a thriller is a misnomer. When I think of a thriller,
I think of a rollercoaster: exciting, fun, nailbiting. Maybe you're a little
tense as the good guys scramble to stop the bomb from going off, but with
few exceptions, you know it's going to stop with 0:07 seconds left on the
timer. That's a thriller.
This was more like watching the Twin Towers fall.
I am not a wimp or a tearjerker. I sat entirely though "Divine Secrets
of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" without shedding a tear. I was dry-eyed through
"Phenomenon," "Steel Magnolias," "Fried Green Tomatoes," "The Way We Were"
and even "Terms of Endearment."
But this movie made me tear up.
You have to really watch this movie to understand the title: It truly is
the sum of all our fears, both before and after Sept. 11. It pulls no punches,
but presents the nightmare scenario of a worst-case international disaster
that is still quite possible, despite the instant communication and worldwide
media of today's political world.
Maybe you have to be a reporter or avid news addict to really get how terrifying
this movie is. You have to see the stupid mistakes and miscommunications
that lead to dead bodies on a daily basis. There is nothing in "Sum of
All Fears" that screams "unbelievable" or "that would never happen."
Sometimes the best test of a movie is the audience around you. At a certain
moment two-thirds of the way through - and I'm not telling you what it
is, but you've probably figured it out - the entire audience was frozen
solid. No one moved. No one breathed. The second time I saw it, I watched
the audience a bit more. My husband breathed, "Oh my God," and that was
all.
I was more than a little concerned about Affleck taking over the role so
well-played by Harrison Ford in the past two movies. I knew Ford had turned
down the movie, and I knew they had re-written it a bit to make Affleck
plausible. Just pretend the previous movies didn't happen. Aflleck is a
young cubicle-dweller at the CIA, not the deputy director, as he is in
the book and at the end of the previous movie. Get your mind around it,
and you're fine.
I can't say that you'll completely enjoy "Sum of All Fears." It's a little
too real to be comfortable entertainment. But it's definitely required
watching.
MOVIES:
Minority Report
Tom
Cruise, Samantha Morton
Quick! Cover your eyes!
Vision is the theme of this movie, which wasn't nearly as bad as I feared
it would be. Poor Phillip K. Dick - his work has been plagiarized... excuse
me, immortalized... in such diverse movies as "Blade Runner" and "Total
Recall." The late Dick wrote interesting parables of futures in which aspects
of our lives have run amok, threatening society and humanity.
And we get to blow stuff up.
"Minority Report" is John Ashcroft's wet dream - a society where there
is no right to privacy, where you can lock up "murderers" indefinitely
before they commit their crimes. A building can be searched in minutes
by robotic "spiders," without such pesky things as due process, search
warrant, exigent circumstances... All those things we're so happy to toss
out the window if it'll keep the crime rate down.
When I heard this movie would star Tom Cruise, I was about to dismiss it.
As talented as I believe he could be, in the last decade or so Cruise has
drifted from the intelligent, nuanced work he displayed in "Born on the
Fourth of July" and "Far and Away" into the same suave, wisecracking action-adventure
hero that we've seen dozens of times.
But as a friend of mine put it, in "Minority Report" Cruise's ego has only
second billing, instead of the starring role. He gets to stretch a bit
as the drug-addicted policeman whose own son was kidnapped and presumably
murdered, without going into the mind-numbing depths of - let's face it
- artsy nonsense that he displayed in "Vanilla Sky" and "Eyes Wide Shut."
There is a scene that I had to avoid watching. I won't go into details,
but it goes back to that "vision" theme I was talking about earlier. Stab
me, shoot me, whatever, folks, but keep away from my eyes. Ewww.
All of the cast is well-chosen, especially Samantha Morton as one of the
three psychics that predict future murders. I do think the talented Steve
Harris is sorely underused as Cruise's second banana.
I'll be honest - I saw this movie because Steven Spielberg directed it.
I thought Spielberg could balance out Cruise's ego. He does a fair job.
Certainly this film is much more smooth than the director-whiplash of "A.I."
- this scene directed by Stanley Kubrick! This scene directed by Steven
Spielberg! Kubrick! Spielberg! Ouch.
Perhaps in an earlier time, "Minority Report" could be dismissed as another
Chicken-Little cautionary sf tale. But with the current atmosphere of "What
Constitution?" in Washington, it becomes required watching.
MOVIES:
Star Wars: Attack of the Clones
Hayden
Christiansen, Ewan McGregor
I'm not even going to resist it: "Send in the clones!"
Now that I've got that out of my system...
The best thing about this installment of the Star Wars saga is that Jar-Jar
Binks, possibly the most annoying science fiction character since Wesley
Crusher, has approximately three minutes of screen time. As one reviewer
said, it's just enough so Lucas can say he didn't bow to the fans' wishes
to see Jar-Jar die a slow, horrible death. Now THAT would be cause for
applause.
Irritating computer-generated aliens aside, "Clones" is a vast improvement
over the over-hyped "Phantom Menace." Some have slammed both movies for
their dependence on the politics of the Republic, but I prefer a plotline
with brains. And for heaven's sake, there's certainly enough battle action
to go around.
For the lightsaber freaks, "Clones" offers a succession of duels (including
a computer-generated Yoda, who shows us how he grew o strong with
the Force. Wow. Don't mess with little green men.) For the romantic saps,
we get to watch Anakin "Soon to Be Darth Vader" Skywalker fall for Padme
"Soon to Be Toast" Amidala. For the action gurus, we get more fighting
than you can shake a lightsaber at, with an army of Jedi fighting... some
bad guys, and there's even an old-fashioned car chase with speeders in
Coruscant.
You don't go to a "Star Wars" expecting a "2001"-like odyssey into the
human potential and Stanley Kubrick's ego, or even the religious/societal
musings of a Carl Sagan novel. You go to see someone fall in love, someone
get their hand chopped off, someone to suffer a crushing loss and someone
kick someone's butt across the galaxy. "Clones" fulfills all of that admirably.
I particularly love how we've explained why the stormtroopers have absolutely
no intelligence, personality or training whatsoever, and in particular,
why they are completely incapable of aiming a blaster directly at Luke,
Leia, Han and Friends: They're clones! They're genetically engineered to
be stupid!
And extra points go to the guy with the toughest job in the universe: Ewan
McGregor, who must fill the enormous shoes left by Sir Alec Guinness in
the role of a younger Obi-Wan Kenobi. He is a spot-on prequel, obviously
perfected after zillions of viewings of the original three movies.
Extra credit for a deadpan delivery of the best snark: Obi-Wan to Anakin:
"Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be the death of me?"
As the Cryptkeeper would say: Heh-heh-heh.
BOOK:
Everything's Eventual
by
Stephen King
I was beginning to be worried about the King.
A die-hard fan since age nine (now you know what warped me), I have been
disappointed with the master's latest works. Dreamcatcher was meandering
and not particularly scary or engaging, with characters as close to cardboard
as Stephen King has ever come. The last few pieces before his accident
were also starting to drift, and "Rose Red," the long-awaited miniseries,
was a disappointing retread. Then King announced he was retiring, and I
hoped these pieces would not be his last.
Fortunately, he's still kicking.
Everything's Eventual is a collection of longish short stories, some
of which have appeared elsewhere. "Autopsy Room Four," for example, is
old-school King that first appeared in the anthology, Robert Bloch's
Psychos. Do I have a copy? Am I a true horror fan? Sue me, it's one
of the freakiest stories I've ever read, about a man paralyzed by a snake
bite who comes conscious at his own autopsy - and cannot signal to the
doctors that he is still alive. Eeek.
I don't have space to go through all of the stories, but the title story,
"Everything's Eventual," is supremely creepy, as is "Riding the Bullet,"
which first appeared as an e-book and scared the hell out of the publishing
world. "1408" started out as an example in his autobiography/writing text
"On Writing," the single most useful writing book I've ever read, and became
the creepiest hotel story since "The Shining." "Luckey Quarter," the last
of the pieces, is less creepy and still powerful, inside the mind of an
exhausted chambermaid and single mother of two at a dingy hotel who is
left a single quarter as a tip. (And yes, I know how to spell "lucky,"
that's the real name of the story.)
In the introduction, King laments the almost-lost art of the short story.
He's absolutely right. I've always been more fond of novels than short
stories in my reading and writing, but I can appreciate an engaging, unusual
story. Finding them, on the other hand, has been increasingly difficult.
Most short stories are so consumed with being "arty" that they lose the
reader quickly - and still "The New Yorker" pays thousands for each of
them. I do not except my own work from this judgment - all my short stories
read like the prologues to novels. I can't help myself.
So if you value the craft of the short story, pick up "Everything's Eventual."
Do it even if you just value good writing, because there truly isn't a
weak story in the collection. The best part, for me as a writer, is King's
habit of putting a few paragraphs with each story, explaining where it
came from. I wish all writers would do this.
It's good to see the King hasn't lost his touch. He might have misplaced
it - getting smushed by a moron driver will do that to you - but he hasn't
lost it. "Everything's Eventual" makes me hope those retirement rumors
are just that - rumors.
TV:
X-Files: The Truth
David
Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, Robert Patrick, Annabeth Gish, Mitch Pileggi
I'm gonna miss this show. Not because it's been so good - in fact, the
writing this year has staggered between incomprehensible (Scully giving
up her baby to Ma and Pa Kent) and just plain bad (the Lone Gunmen, killed
by bad writing).
Actually, it's all F/X's fault. This reruns-r-us channel has been running
the early "X-Files" lately, and it has served as the real comparison between
what this show once was - fun, smart, spooky and best of all, damned good
- and what it became. Even as dedicated a fan as I had trouble with the
Brady Bunch episode and Burt Reynolds as God throughout what looked like
the Godfather on acid, mixed with an old-fashioned serial killer ruled
by numbers. Or something.
The problem with the two-hour finale is that we wanted answers. Creator
Chris Carter thought he was offering them by rehashing the highlights of
the entire series, plus the movie, in flashbacks offered as testimony at
Mulder's murder trial. (And thank you, David Duchovny, for coming back
for the finale. Without your reappearance, they might as well have stopped
at the Brady Bunch house.) I spent most of the finale thinking, "Okay,
yes, I was watching then, yes, I remember that, although I was trying to
commit mental suicide by that point... Tell me something I don't know!"
Eventually, of course, aman whose identity I won't reveal in case you haven't
seen it does tell us something we didn't know. But it's really not that
earth-shattering. It's one piece of information. Just one. And it doesn't
change much for us. I suppose it changes something for Sculder and Mully.
But they seem more concerned with cuddling each other than getting their
baby back from Ma and Pa Kent.
Anyway, we all know more movies are coming, and we wish our friends well
in alien invasions to come. Matters such as "what happened to Skinner?"
and "Are the Lone Gunman REALLY dead in such bad writing?" are fodder for
obsessed fan groups online.
(News flash: Carter says the Lone Gunman really really really are dead.
Dead as doornails. His words. So much for my theory that they were running
around in Canada chasing buried spacecraft and the three coffins in Arlington
were actually filled with alien spore colonies that would get loose and
reanimate all the dead people in Arlington National Cemetery. Hey, it's
the "X-Files." I could write this stuff. Really I could.)
In the meantime, the truth is still out there. Way out there. And
we miss it.
MOVIES:
The Scorpion King
Starring
Dwayne Johnson
Sometimes you just know they're going to screw up a good thing.
The best thing about "The Mummy" wasn't the special effects or the wise-cracking:
it was the fun of watching Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz.
The best thing about "The Mummy Returns" wasn't the special effects or
the wise-cracking: it was the fun of watching Brendan Fraser and Rachel
Weisz. Also, it made great strides in improving the portrayal of women
in action-adventure films, but we won't go into that because we'd be here
all day.
The best thing I can say about "The Scorpion King" is that it was mercifully
brief, and not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.
The best thing about Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's performance in "The Mummy
Returns" was that his only line was in another language during a narrative
voiceover, so his wretched acting was only a slight flaw in about five
minutes of prologue.
I'm glad to say he seems to have taken a few acting lessons before this
prequel. Not to say that he's become an actor - there were students in
my college theater classes who were ten times the actor he is. But they're
onstage in Memphis, Tenn., and Johnson gets umpty-million a movie.
Another reviewer said "The Scorpion King" was silly fun - dialogue that
knows it's stupid and plot devices that know they're convenient. They're
right.
There are two frightening things about "The Scorpion King," and neither
of them involve the killer fire ants or the villain who mysteriously has
a British accent and appears to be the only non-Middle-Eastern character
in the movie.
1) Although he has been compared to early Arnold Schwarzenegger in "Conan
the Barbarian," I am sorry to report that Johnson is actually a better
actor now than Ah-nold was in "Conan." Not that that's saying much. But
it's quite possible he has a future in action films.
2) A certain plot twist involving a bracelet, a sceptre and a major military
campaign that would take us up to "The Mummy Returns" did not occur before
the end of the movie.
That means there is room for more sequels before we get back to Brendan
and Rachel. And that's what's really scary.
TV:
The X-Files
Starring
Gillian Anderson, Robert Patrick
I was going to wait until this series finally wrapped before reviewing
its demise. Like many viewers, I drifted away when it jumped the shark
- that is, when David Duchovny left and the powers that be decided to struggle
along with a mostly-new cast.
Upon hearing that this would be its final season, I started watching again.
I tried desperately to catch up by reading Television
Without Pity, a terrific web site that recaps All Your Favorite Shows
while mocking them.
Of course, I'm hopelessly lost. Truth be told, we've all been lost since
the "X-Files" movie, which was a lot of fun but didn't answer a thing about
the ongoing myth-arc of aliens, bees, plagues, space zombies, government
coverups, obelisks, Area 51, buried spacecraft, a cornfield in Tunisia
and who knows what else.
Now we're four episodes before the end of the series, and no closer to
consolidating all these answers. It's going to take the writing feat of
all time to tie up every loose end in eight years of bizarre science fiction-fantasy
and untold "but wait! there's more" endings.
To make matters worse, they killed the Lone Gunmen.
If you've ever watched the show, you know that the Lone Gunmen, a trio
of nerdy conspiracy theorists who help Our Heroes from time to time, are
not only a terrific plot device, but the best comic relief in science fiction
history. These three guys worked out a balance and comic timing that hasn't
been seen in decades.
For a moment, Fox had delusions of adequacy and gave the Gunmen their own
show. I watched it. It wasn't nearly as bad as its reviews. It was mostly
hobbled by this mindless theory that no one would want to watch three unattractive
nerds save the world, and added second-tier characters who were young and
attractive and mindless and boring. The spinoff died quickly.
In last week's "X-Files", the Lone Gunmen give their lives to save the
world in an otherwise mediocre episode. How could they? Couldn't they keep
these guys around for the movies? It's not like they're swimming with work,
you know.
Then again, this is "X-Files" we're talking about. I've lost count of how
many times Duchovny's character has "died," and currently his character
is on a permanent vacation or perpetually at the grocery store.
Others with multiple demises include the Cigarette-Smoking Man, Krychek
the Bad FBI Guy and sinister men in suits without number. The Scully-replacement-who-isn't
(Annabeth Gish) has "died" at least twice this season, and Television Without
Pity keeps mentioning some time the Mulder-replacement-who-isn't (Robert
Patrick) was swallowed and vomited up again by a Native American medicine
man.
I knew I was missing something.
So maybe the Lone Gunmen aren't really dead. Maybe they buried alien spore-colonies
in Arlington National Cemetery (civilian computer geeks in Arlington? Don't
ask) and the Gunmen are really prowling around a buried flying saucer in
Canada with Duchovny.
You never know.
Books:
A Man Named Dave
By
Dave Pelzer
Before you read this book, you must go read his two previous books, "A
Child Called It" and "The Lost Boy."
To recap briefly, Pelzer was the victim of one of the worst cases of child
abuse in California history. His mother abused him in ways that are too
horrifying for me to describe, and being the 1970s, it took a ridiculous
amount of time for the schools and child welfare agencies to do anything.
The first book detailed Pelzer's life with his mother. Reading it made
you want to swoop into the book, pick up the little child and swoop back
out again, because whatever kind of parent you are, you'd be better than
THAT.
The second book followed Pelzer in his trip through 1970s foster care,
from family to family, trying to overcome his trauma with little psychological
help and more traumas inflicted by the fosters.
This book shows how Pelzer, as an adult, tried to build a life for himself
on his own and searched for the reasons for his abuse. Trying to come to
terms with his love for his father and his mother, despite the former's
disappearance and the latter's outright cruelty, Pelzer stumbled more than
a few times.
The hardest part of the book is trying to understand why Pelzer felt such
a need to reconnect to his old family, even going to see his mother and
asking her why she abused him. Having read the first book, my main question
would have been, "why aren't you in prison? Why didn't the state take your
other children away?"
The only answer to that question, of course, is "It was the times," and
it's as unsatisfying as ever. Pelzer's story is about real life, not a
Hollywood ending, and as such it isn't likely to give you a sense of closure
because real life rarely does.
But Pelzer's survival spirit and absolute refusal to see himself as a victim
or feel sorry for himself is something anyone can learn from.
TV:
Firestarter: Rekindled
Starring
Malcolm McDowell
Whenever you hear about someone dredging up a 20-year-old movie and turning
it into a miniseries, you have to cringe.
This attempt is only a two-cringe deal. Granted, getting Drew Barrymore
to reprise her role as the pyrokinetic Charlie McGee would have been terrific.
Granted, Stephen King fans have wondered for years what became of Charlie
and that other "special child" of King's works - Danny Torrance of "The
Shining." When asked (as if he gets letters from them from time to time),
King said, "Imagine the kids if they clicked!"
The Sci-Fi network put this little conflagration together, and it's helped
by better fire effects than were available when Drew Barrymore did her
thing. The plot - schmuck unknowingly working for The Shop digs up Charlie
McGee 15 years after she escaped from them - is only mildly interesting.
The collection of "special children" being developed as a weapon by The
Shop (read: CIA) is slightly more interesting.
But King purists (myself included) find ourselves distracted by the, er,
liberties taken with the original plot. Fine, make a sequel, try not to
kill it, but do you have to rewrite the original?
The biggest problem - the villian, John Rainbird, was basically blasted
into atoms when he killed Charlie's father in front of her (not the wisest
choice). In the first movie, we gave the creators a free pass by making
Rainbird, a Native American assassin for The Shop, into a white man because
there was some attempt to make him look Native American, and besides, it
was George C. Scott.
Now Rainbird has somehow survived, albeit with a few scars, and any attempt
at keeping him near the original character is gone. McDowell does sinister
well, but he's suddenly a scientist instead of a hired thug, and by the
way, he's British now. Ooookay.
Other items are just as weird. Mad Doctor Wanless of the original story
was an old man when Charlie was a girl, and killed by Rainbird. But now
we meet Mrs. Wanless, and she's about, oh, forty or so, at least 15 years
after her husband's death. Oookay.
To add to the fun, since when does The Shop use insurance adjusters to
find people? And why does Mrs. Wanless still have all her husband's old
files, complete with information so classified that our friend the schmuck
can't get it? Even if she kept these materials, shouldn't it concern the
Shop that Mrs. Wanless lets two people pretending to be college students
go through all the materials? Oookay.
Finally, there's the flashbacks. It's necessary, of course, for the three
or so viewers who are watching this thing without reading the book or watching
the movie. We assume for some reason they couldn't use clips from the real
movie - Barrymore (or King himself) may have objected. But was it really
necessary to totally rewrite vital scenes - and make them dull?
These are fine points, to be sure. But if you're going to mess with a classic
(or a story beloved by utterly rabid fans), you better clean up your act.
Will I watch Part Two? Yes, King Mania knows no bounds. Only "The Langoliers"
was so dreadful I couldn't finish it.
Part One reads disturbingly like a series pilot. That's what it originally
was, if I recall correctly. Now THAT'S a chilling thought.
Movies:
The Time Machine
Starring
Guy Pearce, Jeremy Irons
Oh, put your literary-snob hat back on the shelf, folks - it's not a sin
to make a movie from a classic novel or even to remake a popular older
movie.
But when you're doing both at the same time, you better mind your Morlocks
and Eloi.
Fortunately, Dreamworks' updating of the H.G. Wells classic does the master
justice. I will be spitting in the faces of traditionalists, but I liked
this version far more than the 1960 version.
In the first movie, mankind is wiped out by a nuclear war. Our hero wanders
among Eloi who seem more like vapid flower children than the survivors
of a worldwide holocaust.
Here, mankind is wiped out by its own foolishness again, but nuclear war
is not the cause - mindlessly rushing in where angels fear to tread, it
is both more plausible and more tragic. I won't go into details to avoid
ruining the moment, but we've all seen the moment in the trailer when the
moon fractures in the sky. I thought I was prepared to see that on
the big screen. I was wrong.
In this version, the Eloi actually seem worth saving. They are similar
to Native Americans, living in harmony with the earth and each other -
and occasionally vanishing into the dark.
I was unprepared for the Morlocks, and I'm an adult woman. Do not take
the kids to this one unless they've got seriously strong stomachs and are
nightmare-proof.
Be prepared for plenty of melodrama and the occasional movie-land coincidence.
But considering you're talking about the death, birth and life of the world
itself and humanity's future, the price of independent thinking and the
purpose of existence, maybe a little melodrama is acceptable.
P.S. Don't go for popcorn when the library hologram comes up. It's priceless
- particularly his expression when he says, "science fiction."
TV:
9/11
By
CBS News
I had serious concerns about this documentary on Sept. 11, especially when
I heard it would include footage from inside the World Trade Center. In
the end, I decided to watch it, if for no other reason that it was definitely
news.
What I forgot - what all of us forgot - was the gut-wrenching pain of that
day, and that this documentary would remind us all. I found myself openly
crying in much the same way I found myself crying on Sept. 11.
From a news point of view, the documentary has its problems. It can't decide
whether it should stick with its original purpose - a year in the life
of a probationary fireman - or focus entirely on Sept. 11. In the end,
it tries to do both and ends up halfway between details of rescue attempts
during the worst terrorist attack in U.S. history and a love letter to
the New York Fire Department.
Still, I found myself crying, and it made me wonder what we were crying
for, on that day and when the documentary brought it back. Most of us don't
know someone who died that day; most of us weren't traveling or incarcerated
that day; most of us don't have someone overseas, fighting a war because
of that day.
I am forced to conclude that "9/11" was a catharsis for the grief we all
suffered, a sense of our self-imposed delusion of security dying. We salute
our heroes - in fact, that's how I explained them to my son - but at the
same time, we are forced to remember that the violence of the world does
not exclude us because - drum roll please - we're Americans, dammit, nobody
messes with us, John Wayne won't allow it in his town.
We were like children, growing up in luxurious safety and pretending the
rest of the world didn't exist, and if it did exist, it wasn't dangerous,
and if it was dangerous, it didn't hate us, and if it did hate us, well,
it was just darn wrong.
9/11 addresses none of those issues. But it did remind us of them, and
give us just a second of hope - when the first tower fell, one of the cameramen
was on the street, and observed people of all ages, races, and backgrounds,
standing together, talking in a hundred different languages and each was
weeping.
"The whole world was on that sidewalk," he observed.
Yes, indeed.
Movies: Lord of
the Rings
Starring Elijah
Wood, Ian McKellen
The first thing you have to know is that knowledge of Tolkein is not necessary
to enjoy this movie. I read the first of the Rings books more than 15 years
ago, and I still enjoyed it.
That said, a little Tolkein certainly helps.
The most amazing thing about movies like "Rings" is how brave these folks
are to make movies that have no hope of translating well to the small screen.
"Rings" isn't a movie that should wait for home video. The hills of New
Zealand were magically transformed into Middle Earth, and the wizardry
of Gandalf et al pales beside the computer skills necessary to turn "Indiana
Jones"' hulking John Rhys-Davies into a dwarf, walking alongside shortened
halfling Elijah Wood and full-size Ian McKellen in the same shot.
The plot? Incidental. It's a milieu movie, much like "The Wizard of Oz"
- Our Hero must perform a task, and the story happens along the way in
the persons he meets and the strange things he encounters.
Fair warning: They shot all three of the "Rings" movies at once, and it
shows. You will walk out of the theater irritated that it stops at the
end of Part One - and dying for Part Two. See you next year!
TV:
Stephen King's Rose Red
Starring
Nancy Travis, Julian Sands
Don't expect a good night's sleep if you check into Rose Red.
What else would you expect from the King himself? (That's Stephen King
for the uninitiated.) King and his band of hellraisers (pardon the expression)
have taken a perfectly innocent bed-and-breakfast in Washington state and
made it into one of the creepiest old house since the Overlook in "The
Shining."
I don't want to give anything away for those who are waiting for the videotape
version, so I'll just summarize - Nancy Travis is a parapsychologist chasing
ghosts. She's a nearly-obsessed Ahab chasing the white whale of Rose Red,
a house that has a tendency to kill men and make women disappear. (Bad
news, guys.)
King has often been accused of writing too long, of stretching out his
stories because no one dares edit him. What the critics have failed to
realize is that good stories are as long as they need to be to sustain
a coherent story. In the days of epics, movies were as long as they wanted
to be, and no one cut them down to ninety minutes so they could fit more
showings into a day at the multiplex.
That said, King can't quite sustain Rose Red's creepiness throughout six
hours. This is well-traveled territory, after all - the haunted house has
been hair-raising fun long before Shirley Jackson wrote the novel that
defined the genre. (If you don't know, what are you doing reading this?
Go get "The Haunting of Hill House" right now. Scoot.)
I also sense a bit of self-cannibalism in the story. One of the characters
is clearly a revamp of Eddie Kaspbrak in "IT," only this time he's psychic
(and not chasing a giant shape-changing spider beneath the sewers). And
King's dislike of reporters continues - with the exception of a reporter
in "The Dead Zone," reporters in King's books usually end up in the belly
of the beast, and deservedly so for their evildoing. Other characters are
fairly thin, as close to paperboard as King has ever come in his work.
This worries me, because it's the same problem I had with his most recent
book, "Dreamcatcher."
But that is neither here nor there. If you're half the horror addict I
am, you'll watch Rose Red. That's what the critics don't get - we'd rather
watch six hours of Stephen King, even mediocre Stephen King, than half
an hour of "Survivor" or "Fear Factor." Deal with it. He's that good.
BOOKS: The Brethren
By John Grisham
This was the oddest book that has ever completely captured my attention.
The Brethren of the title are a trio of judges serving time in a cushy
federal prison and blackmailing rich homosexuals who respond to their personal
ads. Not exactly princes among men, but then neither is anyone else in
this book.
I wouldn't want to give away too much of the book, so it's hard to tell
you what worked and didn't work. Suffice to say that the character I liked
the most was an alcoholic, conniving, unethical lawyer, and the only character
I felt sorry for was a politician. Do you know what it takes to make a
reader feel sorry for a politician?
What does bother me the most about this book is its near-perfect description
of what a terroism crisis would do to the country - writtten and published
long before Sept. 11. Consipracy theorists have written much about the
government's supposed secret plan to whip the public into a nationalistic
frenzy with a faked terrorisim attack.
Perhaps that's why Tom Clancy's book about terrorists crashing a plane
into a State of the Union address got major notice during Sept. 11, and
this book remained unnoticed. Because some things are too horrible, even
for the CIA. We hope.
In the meantime, "The Brethren" is the sort of book you keep reading at
midnight because it creeps into your mind, but you can't decide which character
should - or will - win. For that, if for nothing else, Grisham deserves
his kudos and his $5 million.
BOOK: Harry Potter and the Goblet of
Fire
By J.K. Rowling
I must admit that I have been hooked on Harry Potter. I was aware of the
phenomenon, of course, and after seeing the movie, I swiped my husband's
paperbacks and started to read.
But whenever you have a series of books, you run the risk of the series
becoming stale. Rowling's writing is clear, and her characters are strong.
But in this latest (and longest) chapter of Harry's tale, the word "stagnant"
comes to mind.
The problem isn't that the book is boring - it's not. It's also not too
long for the story it tells. The problem is that the only character who
seems to be growing and changing in any way is the villain, Lord Voldemort
(gasp!). I don't believe I'm giving anything away by saying that, since
Voldemort ... okay, He That Shall Not Be Named ... started the series as
a disembodied evil creature living in someone's head.
But Harry, Ron and Hermoine started out as 11-year-old children and good
friends. Four books (and four years) later, they seem to be... 11-year-old
children and good friends. By the clock, Harry et al. should be 15 years
old, a time when their lives are changing. It's not coming through in the
books.
And although structure is always important, formula can grow tiresome.
Harry encounters a mystery in the fall. The brilliant adults are unable
to solve it. Harry and his friends encounter a number of red herrings before
deducing the truth - which always goes back to Vold- oh, you know. In a
climax of great peril, Harry saves the day - and goes home to his Muggle
foster family.
It's risky to shake up a franchise as incredibly profitable and popular
as the Harry Potter phenomenon. But with three books to go before Harry
graduates from Hogwarts Academy, Rowling needs to find something new to
say.
That won't keep me from buying the books, mind you.