News Retrospective, Part One

Well four months is a long time in the world of movie and TV news, so I thought I’d offer a blow-by-blow account of the major and not-so-major stories since March, with some of my patented asinine bullshit for good measure.

I began writing this thinking it would be a quick cursory exercise, but it soon turned into a mammoth endeavour that my perfectionism wouldn't let me bring to a halt despite the bleeding from my eyes. So, although this may revolt you in its thoroughness, I feel that my work needs to be seen in order for my horrendous injuries to be justified. Enjoy!

March (well, the stuff I didn’t cover in the real March)

- Zack Snyder reveals that he was talking to Tom Cruise about the role of Ozymandias in Watchmen, but that Cruise politely declined. While Cruise has the looks and charisma needed for this role, he just brings too much baggage. He could never really be Adrian Veidt.

- Daniel Radcliffe signs on for the final two Harry Potter movies. When the first film came out it seemed highly implausible that the cast would be kept together for seven movies. Six years later, in this age of the sequel and three-quel, it’s just a mild relief rather than a surprise.

- Director Joe Carnahan, in development on the fifth of James Ellroy’s LA crime novels, White Jazz, confirms that a separate L.A. Confidential 2 project is in the works, which would prevent him from using Guy Pearce’s Ed Exley character from that film and Pearce himself (assuming he would agree to reprise). It’s an especially egregious slight considering Carnahan was respecting movie continuity by keeping James Cromwell’s character dead when he played a major role in the novel, yet the project was very much striving to be its own entity – it would have been a refreshingly honest type of ‘sequel’. It even had – and still has – George Clooney attached as the lead. Still, leaving Exley out isn’t fatal, and it doesn’t look like L.A. Confidential 2 will beat White Jazz to theatres – hell, it may not even be made. And I wouldn’t complain in the slightest.
[For a sense of how nifty White Jazz could be, check out this photoshopped image that Joe Carnahan posted on his blog, indicating the fascinating visual style he’s going for. Scroll across for a glimpse of George doing his thing.]

- Variety confirms what webmasters had discovered weeks previously: Shia LeBeouf is in Indiana Jones 4. The studio is being coy about whether he’s playing Indy’s son though.

- Pixar announce that Toy Story 3 will be released in 2010. Although I don’t really need this movie, I’m eternally grateful that Pixar re-signed with Disney so that they could make it themselves, rather than audiences being inflicted with an in-house Disney production, as they threatened when Pixar was mulling a new alliance with another studio. John Lasseter has already announced that any sequels to Pixar films will be handled by Pixar themselves. Thank Christ.
And it’s funny how this is a rare case where a three-quel has to live up to the massive expectations set by the previous film fulfilling massive expectations as the follow-up to a hugely-loved first film. Fingers crossed. Tom Hanks and Tim Allen are back BTW. I bet the latter wasn’t a hard sell. Poor guy…. Santa Clause 3 with Martin Short… yikes….

- Gerard Butler is to star as Snake Plissken in a remake of John Carpenter’s Escape from New York. After 300, this guy had it all. Was opting for a remake a bad choice, or indicative of how little else there is on offer in Hollywood for a rising star? Bloody remakes!!!

- Bryan Singer’s next film will not be a Superman sequel, but a World War II thriller written by Usual Suspects screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie. The deal is with the latest incarnation of United Artists, inexplicably resurrected by Tom Cruise and his Cruise/Wagner production company. It’s since been revealed that Cruise will also be the lead in Valkyrie, playing Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg. Yep, Cruise as a German – I’m shuddering too. Also starring are Carice von Houten (from Paul Verhoeven’s recent homegrown comeback flick Black Book), Kenneth Branagh, Bill Nighy, Stephen Fry. Tom Wilkinson, Armin Mueller-Stahl, Eddie Izzard and Patrick Wilson – great cast, really. Oh, and it’s based on the July Plot, a real-life conspiracy to assassinate Hitler by German officers. Could be interesting. But Cruise as an actual German from history? Please no accent, PLEASE!

- Fernando Meirelles follow-up to The Constant Gardener is finally announced: an adaptation of Nobel Prize-winning Portuguese author Jose Saramago’s novel Blindness, about an inexplicable city-wide outbreak of blindness. Daniel Craig and Julianne Moore are in talks to star. However, Craig has since backed out, replaced by the far less stern and more vulnerable Mark Ruffalo – great choice.

- A while back, Warner Bros. put a Justice League movie into development, perhaps in response to Marvel’s announcement that their in-house movies like Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk, and the in-development Captain America and Thor will hopefully lead to an Avengers movie. If it gets made, it could be a catch-all flick for lesser DC heroes, or it could be a massive team-up movie featuring Batman and Superman, as seen in their solo flicks. Good idea? I can’t say at this point.
Anyway, rumours start to emerge that Warners will be putting a Superman sequel into turnaround and simply casting Brandon Routh in Justice League. After the disappointing critical and commercial response to Returns, this isn’t unfeasible. Since then, there have been conflicting reports about the sequel going ahead, even within the cast-iron Variety and The Hollywood Reporter. Who the hell knows? But I very much doubt that Christian Bale would touch this with a 10-footer.

- We’re getting another Hayao Miyazaki film!!! Ponyo on a Cliff is announced for release in 2008. From Wikipedia and Variety:
“The plot centers on a goldfish princess named Ponyo who desperately wants to be a human. In pursuing her goal, she befriends a five-year-old human boy, Sōsuke. Work began on the film in 2006 [that explains the startling imminent release date]. The film will have an animation style heavily based on watercolours, a first for Miyazaki's films.”
Oh YEAH! And unlike Howl’s Moving Castle, this is an original story, straight from Miyazaki. And Sōsuke is based on his grandson, a personal touch that may make Ponyo even more whiplash-inducingly charming than his prior work.

- Emile Hirsch is cast as the lead in the Wachowski Brothers’ live-action version of 1960s anime Speed Racer. Interestingly, the film’s going to be rated G – not only are the Wachowskis making a family film this time, they’re doing so aggressively. It could be a great test of their range, or a dismal failure that proves that they really did lose the plot after the first Matrix. Hirsch is later joined by John Goodman and Susan Sarandon as Speed’s parents, Christina Ricci, Matthew Fox as villain Racer X (Jack may not get nearly as much Lost love as Sawyer, but Fox is doing a lot better in film than Josh Holloway – weird), Richard Roundtree, Friday Night Lights’s Scott Porter, and Hiroyuki Sanada (loves me some Sanada). Fantastic cast – the Wachowskis still have some love. V for Vendetta no doubt helped.

- Steven Spielberg taps Prestige and Dark Knight screenwriter Jonathan Nolan to write his wormhole SF project Interstellar. Good choice.

- Robert Rodriguez says he’s glad Johnny Depp couldn’t take the part of Jackie Boy in Sin City (ultimately taken by Benicio del Toro) because he thinks he’s perfect for Wallace in an adaptation of Hell and Back, which, being the longest Sin City yarn, would have to comprise a third film (the second will adapt A Dame to Kill For). He is, I agree, but since both Rodriguez and Miller now have a film apiece to make first, who knows when the first sequel will even get made?

- The Fountain director Darren Aronofsky signs to helm The Fighter, a boxing drama starring Matt Damon and Mark Wahlberg. This may well be a ‘for them’ movie, but if it bolsters his status in the biz, it could pave the way for other, personal, Fountain-esque projects, which is only a good thing.

- Radcliffe is followed by Emma Watson and Rupert Grint in signing for Potter 6 and 7, despite momentary panic that Watson would bail. Good stuff.

- Helen Mirren follows her Oscar for The Queen with National Treasure 2 – WHAT. THE. FRAK?

- After an Oscar nomination, Mark Wahlberg signs for M. Night Shyamalan’s The Happening, despite several studios rejecting it, Lady in the Water failing miserably, and Shyamalan’s apparently ever-inflating ego. WTF, etc etc.

- After an Oscar, Jennifer Hudson signs for Rowan Woods’ Winged Creatures. However, this choice by a recent Oscar pick I do not disdain. Woods is a quality Australian director who also contributed many episodes of the delightful Farscape, and with the moderate critical success of Little Fish he has now snagged an American directing gig with a powerhouse cast. Sure, it’s yet another ensemble drama with a traumatic event serving as catalyst, but if the execution is great, I can forgive another trip to this well. Woods has also snagged fellow 2007 Oscar winner Forrest Whitaker, 2007 Oscar nominee Jackie Earle Haley, Guy Pearce, Kate Beckinsale, Dakota Fanning, and Jeanne Tripplehorn. Woods is doing well.

Sweet jesus, this is turning out far longer than I expected. Stupid comprehensive CHUD archives. Stupid interest in numerous different things.

April

- Heroes outrages surprisingly few by blatantly stealing from Watchmen for the revelation of Linderman’s plan (thank you to Devin Faraci at CHUD for alerting us to this in March when he saw preview clips at a Heroes event). While the method and ultimate outcome differed, the rationale and intended consequences were disgracefully similar. Hopefully Heroes’ limp conclusion in May puts the scenario out of people’s minds when watching Watchmen.
The New York Post followed up with a story on this after the episodes aired, but still not too many people minded. Fanboys must really, unconditionally, blindly love Heroes to overlook such plagiarism of a sacred text.

- In the announcement of Joe Penhall (Enduring Love) as writer of the movie adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s Pulitzer-winning novel The Road, Variety also confirms that John Hillcoat, director of the astonishing Aussie western The Proposition, will indeed be at the helm. Hillcoat is a perfect choice for McCarthy (the tone of The Proposition is wonderfully reminiscent of Blood Meridian), so this is a much-anticipated project.

- Friday Night Lights wins a Peabody Award, probably a more impressive accolade in the grand scheme of things than the Emmys ever could be. While the rest of FNL’s first season was a little disappointing in the soapy aspects that had very little social commentary value (Lyla Garrity shits me off), it’s still impressive TV. I don’t diss this award, but I don’t fully grasp it either.

- Tarantino and Rodriguez’s Grindhouse tanks at the box office, opening in third place with a mere $12 million, and word of mouth obviously doesn’t bring in more custom in subsequent weeks. Much is written about its failure, and, most heinously, international territories will receive expanded versions of the two films as separate releases, rendering the grindhouse experience – ie: the very point of the film – obliterated. What a shame. Oddly I don’t know if I can be arsed paying two ticket prices for these films, despite being pumped for Grindhouse. Maybe I feel subliminally ripped off to reject a new Tarantino.

- Blissfully, hallucinogenically creative comics writer Grant Morrison is announced as screenwriter of Area 51, an adaptation of the video game. If it’s made, this will be Morrison’s first produced film work, and if his vision emerges unscathed, will be a delightful smack-in-the-face to moviegoers with its rampant weirdness, and perhaps the very first decent video-game movie (although Hitman, with Deadwood’s Timothy Olyphant in the lead, sounds kinda promising). Or it will be a massive waste of a seemingly inexhaustible reservoir of talent and originality.

- Sin City may spawn a Rodriguez and Miller-sanctioned TV show. Hmmm……

- Woah! How did I miss this the first time?! After an eon complaining about Harrison Ford’s crappy movie choices, the potential redundancy of Indiana Jones 4, and his refusal to play anyone but a clear-cut hero (with a side order of grouchy), I find that he’s signed to play a corrupt border enforcement agent in Crossing Over, an immigration drama from Wayne Kramer (The Cooler, Running Scared). Wow, I’m shocked he’s actually making another movie apart from Indy, let alone one with actual creative promise. Come on Harrison, you can do it! I just hope he’s also changed his tune on Blade Runner for the upcoming re-release. He’s agreed to and already sat for interviews for the DVD, so maybe he’s come around to it at last. Ray Liotta, Cliff Curtis, and Ashley Judd also star, along with an uncharacteristically brief role for Sean Penn.

- In what is still one of the most gob-smacking announcements of the year, Edward Norton is announced as the lead in The Incredible Hulk, next year’s sequel/reboot of the franchise. Until this point, the Louis Leterrier-directed pic looked to be a glorified straight-to-video sequel, but the signing of Norton transformed all expectations. Sure, Norton hasn’t been in many pics over the last few years, but one got the impression that that was his choice rather than because of a dearth of offers. And he did have quite the word-of-mouth hit last year with the otherwise execrable The Illusionist, so Hulk was probably not a move made out of desperation.
Since then – and perhaps due to Norton signing on –Tim Roth, Liv Tyler, and William Hurt have joined the cast. It’s quite remarkable for a franchise to be restarted in such spectacular fashion a mere five years after the last attempt. The script apparently takes the Hulk’s origin as writ and tells a Fugitive-type story of Banner on the run, akin to the 70s TV-show but allegedly largely inspired by Bruce Jones’ eerie, skilful, but drawn out run on the comic a few years ago.

Ya know, if this film succeeds, I wouldn’t be surprised if Marvel has another crack at Daredevil, similarly ignoring the critically panned last film and starting afresh. Granted, the Hulk has a great deal more name recognition with the general public so the merchandising opportunities may have made a new film financially viable, whereas Daredevil has very little sway with the masses. That is, until the first film’s DVDs just kept on selling and selling for years in re-issues and reprintings, here in Australia at least. Maybe it wouldn’t be fruitless…. As uninspired a character as he may have seemed in the 2003 Ben Affleck starrer, the character actually has a very distinctive tone in the comics that could be well serviced on-screen. Mark Steven Johnson had his heart in the right place, but the execution completely failed to do the character justice. This is, after all, a superhero that Frank Miller crafted the definitive take on. And Hollywood sure does love him right now…

- David Mamet’s next film will be Redbelt, a look at the underground fighting scene in Los Angeles starring Chiwetel Ejiofor.

- Tom Hanks and director Ron Howard have signed for the Da Vinci Code prequel, Angels and Demons – oh PLEASE!

- Ridley Scott puts Child 44, about a secret police officer in Stalinist Russia into development, another addition to a truly mammoth slate for anyone, let alone a guy about to turn 70. After this year’s American Gangster, he also has Body of Lies with Leonardo DiCaprio, and an adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian in the offing, which for me seemed to come from nowhere about six months ago but apparently has a script by William Monahan ready and waiting. Yet as of the present day, it has no firm slot in Ridley’s schedule.
Will it happen? It’s been mooted for years, so who knows? I wonder if Ridley’s right for it? But then I can’t even reconcile Blade Runner’s moody awe with his recent style, as good as some of those films can be. If he can recapture that arch stylism, he could well do justice to Blood Meridian.

- Clive Owen signs for The International, Tom Tykwer’s American film debut.

- Michael Apted (the 7UP documentary series, The World is Not Enough, Amazing Grace) will direct The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the third Narnia film. This series is getting Harry Potter-esque in its advance planning. I may be in the minority, but I think Prince Caspian is still a wild card in the box office department. Whereas Harry Potter has never really left the cultural conversation since the films began, Narnia has been little discussed since the first film came out. We shall see…

- Brad Pitt will join George Clooney in the Coen Brothers’ Burn After Reading. With these huge signings and the massive acclaim for No Country for Old Men at Cannes, it seems that the Coens are back in business, and I’m damn relieved. Burn is about a CIA agent whose memoirs are stolen by a man who believes he can blackmail him with the secrets it contains. An inauspicious concept, but the Coens and the cast (also including Frances McDormand) make this a must-see. Plus, the Coens are working for the first time in over a decade without cinematographer Roger Deakins. However, they’ve got one hell of a replacement with Emmanuel Lubezki (Children of Men, The New World).

- JJ Abrams confirms the worst-kept secret in a long time: his Star Trek film does indeed feature Captain Kirk.

- Robbie Coltrane and Maximilian Schell join Rian “Brick” Johnson’s The Brothers Bloom, adding to an already astonishing cast comprising Adrien Brody, Mark Ruffalo, Rachel Weisz, and Rinko Kikuchi. It’s interesting how Johnson has got his second script up-and-running with little trouble soon after his debut with a stellar cast, yet Richard Kelly endured endless strife to get his second effort filmed, and that strife has continued long after filming concluded. Poor guy….

- Sam Mendes is making a Middlemarch film. Given the astounding intricacy of that novel, all I can say is ‘good luck’.

- Chow Yun-Fat follows Tony Leung Chiu-Wai’s lead and departs John Woo’s ancient Chinese epic, The Battle of Red Cliff. Shortly thereafter, Leung returns, possibly to take Chow’s role, since Takeshi Kaneshiro took his original one. Tumultuous is the word.

- Very convincing photoshopped ‘test’ shots of Heath Ledger as the Joker appear online. The craving to see what Ledger will look like is insatiable, which is odd given that we know what the Joker basically looks like. Yet I was as hungry to see the final design as everyone else. Quite unfathomable really. We fanboys are a funny lot.

- Wow, yet more Coens news. They have the project-after-next sewn up too. Called A Serious Man and dubbed “a dark comedy in the vein of Fargo”, the flick is set up at Focus Features. Is there no stopping these men now?

- Ubiquitous comics-to-film guy David S. Goyer is announced as the director of the Magneto spin-off. Should it be made, of course.

- Frank Langella is confirmed to reprise his stage role as Richard Nixon in Ron Howard’s movie version of Frost/Nixon, about the revealing televised interview with Tricky Dicky conducted by David Frost in 1977. Michael Sheen plays Frost, and Langella only secures the role he originated after Warren Beatty (?!) turned Howard down. Beatty would have a hell of a star persona to overcome in order to play a major historical figure, but he has a knack anyway for turning down big, attention-grabbing roles after similarly rejecting Tarantino for the David Carradine role in Kill Bill. He would have been absolutely dynamite in that, but Carradine was tremendous too so I’m not complaining. And why oh why has Carradine’s career returned to shit (cf: Epic Movie) after such a great, revitalising role? What a world.

- Joanna Cassidy announces on her website that she is shooting new material for the Blade Runner: The Final Cut DVD. Cue much fanboy panicking about Scott messing with a classic, Lucas-style. Thankfully, the reshoots are later revealed as merely an endeavour to cover up two shots that should have looked like Cassidy but clearly weren’t, with the goal to make the overlay as seamless as possible. No complaints here. Perhaps Zhora’s death will be more powerful now that we can clearly see Cassidy throughout the sequence instead of a stuntwoman in a bad wig.

- Darren Aronofsky wants to make a Biblical epic about Noah.

- Ridley Scott will direct Nottingham, a Bizarro Robin Hood tale where the Sheriff is the hero, to which Russell Crowe was already attached. These guys just love each other, don’t they?

My god, this is masochism, it really is. Yet it’s also so weirdly fun….

Transformers

The pinnacle of 80s nostalgia exploitation has arrived. It’s hard to believe that producers Tom DeSanto and Don Murphy had a tough time getting a Transformers movie set up at a studio, since this is the movie of the year for so many men who grew up with the Transformers toys and cartoon. The anticipation for this thing was at an absolute fever pitch, as the massive box office figures over the last week have proven.

Yet I found myself at an utter loss to understand why a movie based on a fairly lame cartoon - whose hackneyed story was only cobbled together to justify the existence of some toy vehicles that turned into robots – is so breathlessly awaited by grown men. The cartoon somehow passed me by in my childhood, so perhaps I’d be salivating more if it hadn’t. Or would I? Is anyone else looking around in confusion, a little unnerved at how a toy from the Eighties has spawned a $150 million, state-of-the-art live-action film directed by blockbuster extremist Michael Bay? There are plenty of terrific original concepts from major talents sitting in cold storage in Hollywood but instead we get Transformers, because those concepts aren’t sure things.

This film is the beginning of Hollywood’s next phase in turning to established properties for its summer blockbusters, after virtually every superhero and top-drawer creator-owned comic has either been filmed or optioned, the attraction being that the creative legwork has already been done. Recognition from previous incarnations helped the Spider-Man and X-Men films scale the commercial heights that they did, and now that Transformers has been a massive success, don’t be surprised to see other eighties properties put into active development, purely because the prime 18-35 male demographic grew up with this stuff. GI Joe, He-Man, and even Thundercats – yes, Thundercats – have already been acquired by studios.

Big event movies have always been accused of unoriginality or at least pastiche, but in the last ten years we’ve seen a major shift from films that are marketed to provoke recognition of a certain kind of movie experience to recognition of a brand as well, be it a well-known cartoon or comic or TV show or a previous film that has virtually become a brand by virtue of its own success. It’s as if studios are so keen to set record grosses and bring in fat cheques for shareholders that they ramp up the income even further by almost exclusively making movies with built-in brand recognition, while leaving original concepts to fall by the wayside, to either be undermarketed or not even made, even if those concepts may attract healthy grosses if they were treated with respect in their promotion and didn’t have franchise juggernauts to suffer comparisons with.

Observe the box-office failure of Children of Men and Serenity. Yes, one is based on a novel and the other a TV show, but they were hardly drawing on a fanbase for big grosses, so they might as well have been original concepts as far as the general public were concerned - they weren't brands. Both films have the framework of a popular, crowd-pleasing (if not massively upbeat) experience, yet they tanked because their studio either had too little faith in them to promote them adequately or because Hollywood has poisoned its own well by dominating the time that everyday people take to think about movies with established brands, so that we can now only get excited for films with concepts we’ve been excited about before in other incarnations. Say what you will about Independence Day, especially that it was merely a modernisation and hybridisation of prior alien invasion flicks, but at least it was original in the sense that it lacked a brand. The emerging overt branding of films could be seen in its “ID4” nickname, but on the whole the film capitalised on recognition of a certain kind of movie, not a kind of product.

At the risk of sounding hypocritical, at least Michael Bay’s Transformers is a really fun flick, probably the first summer action film this year to genuinely deliver, and I say that with shock. I view this film as a happy accident, that despite its creatively stagnant genesis, it eventually emerged as a flick that didn’t make me want to eat my own face. Better to have a corporate movie that's decent than one that isn't, if not for the long-term prospects of this trend dying out. It doesn’t take itself too seriously and made the sensible decision to anchor the spectacle with a very likable hero: Shia LeBeouf’s Sam Witwicky. With this performance I can see why Steven Spielberg was impressed enough to cast him as Indiana Jones’s son (maybe) in the upcoming fourth film. He’s got a witty, down-to-earth charm that works like gangbusters, and even though some will decry the ‘human’ subplots as unnecessary distractions from the giant robot coolness, they’re necessary to install a sense of wonder in the film.

Steven Spielberg, in his role as executive producer, may have had a hand here. This is more childlike than any of Bay’s previous films, and it adds an extra dimension to the experience. There’s a scene early in the film where we first see one of the Autobots (the good Transformers) in their proper form, but it takes a second to realise what we’re seeing. Bumblebee, as he’s called, is seen in an out-of-focus long shot shining a beacon of light into the sky, and Bay waits for the money shot until LeBeouf turns and sees what his car has become. It’s an impressively awe-inspiring moment, much like the silent overhead flying shot of the Man of Steel in Superman Returns. But like Bryan Singer, Bay doesn’t live up to that image elsewhere in the film. The fact that he wrung it from the fundamentally inelegant and clunky Transformers concept at all is praiseworthy in itself though.

The Transformer effects themselves are quite astonishing. It’s only in the last couple of years that we’ve been seeing CG-characters that genuinely feel like they’re on the set with the actors. The seams are rapidly disappearing, and it’s stunning to witness. Not only do they look visually integrated, but these creatures have a weight to them as well; when they crash into a building, it no longer seems like one bunch of pixels hitting another, but a massive weight causing immense destruction – we can feel the force at last (pardon the phrasing). The actual transforming looks great too, the transitions from live-action vehicle to CGI alien difficult to glean.

But the characterisation of the robots leaves a little to be desired, perhaps because so much time has been spent on the humans. Three or four of the Autobots are ciphers that barely speak (I can’t even recall how many there were, they made that little impression). Fan-favourite Optimus Prime gets most of the attention, along with Bumblebee, but since the latter can’t talk and the former has terribly ponderous dialogue they don’t fare too much better. And bad guy Megatron is dull and by-the-numbers, despite being voiced by an unrecognisable Hugo “lovin’ that paycheque” Weaving.

It’s a shame, but doesn’t scupper the movie because we’re treating to great human characters like LaBeouf and John Turturro’s quite batty government agent. Iif you want someone to offer a different spin on a tired archetype, you hire someone like Turturro. He invests the role with a quiet madness, perhaps enjoying the silliness of the concept but choosing to use it to his advantage rather than phoning it in – the performance is his Good Shepherd character by way of Dr. Strangelove. LaBeouf’s parents are a hoot too, and contribute to a quite zany (yes, Michael Bay manages zany) second act as LeBeouf tries to help the Autobots without alerting people to their presence. There are a few such moments peppered through the film, such as with Bernie Mac’s car salesman, and it’s nice to see a blockbuster not going for the obvious gags to meet its humour quotient (although the requisite franchise adaptation pun squeezes in. You won’t miss it – the entire cinema groaned at my screening).

The other characters are fairly limp, such as Josh Duhamel’s utterly vacant soldier, Megan Fox’s gutsy but somehow lifeless heroine, and Jon Voight’s Secretary of Defence – he’s so predictable in the role I can barely describe his performance without resorting to clichés myself. But there are mercifully few “look, these guys are people with lives!” moments, Independence Day-style, save for Duhamel talking about seeing his newborn baby minutes into the film .Why not have a ‘Human Interest Moment!’ subtitle to make the inclusion even more pointed?

To be fair, it is a struggle with an invasion movie of this scope to determine where the balance should lie between the people experiencing the invasion and the invaders/visitors, since the self-sufficiency of each is determined by the success of the other, but always draws attention to how oddly juxtaposed the two are anyway. Transformers is much more successful at this than Roland Emmerich films like Independence Day, Godzilla, and The Day After Tomorrow, so it’s worth the ticket price for that. You won’t be cringing at the horrendous script construction or feeling that your intelligence has been insulted (much). It’s a thrilling and funny couple of hours that doesn’t make you want your money back or look at your watch. What more could one ask for in these days of the overwrought blockbuster?

Zodiac

If David Fincher wanted to justify a second foray into the serial-killer genre, he would need to come up with an entirely different angle on the tired mode if the result could ever be considered an artistic progression. Fortunately, Zodiac is about as different from Seven as one could hope for, to the point where it is virtually unrecognisable as a Fincher film. He’s reined in his glorious, commanding stylistic excess in favour of a stoic but ultimately more insidious tone that makes Zodiac a riveting experience, even at nearly three hours.

Of course, Fincher is arguably obliged to provide a more sombre rendering since Zodiac chronicles true events in 1960s and 1970s California. The unidentified but very public killer eschewed any kind of consistent modus operandi when he killed five people in 1968 and 1969, and the sheer randomness gave the self-titled Zodiac killer a legendary mystique, especially since he may have been responsible for more murders than the five he claimed responsibility for. Despite numerous suspects, the Zodiac was never caught, and has since acquired a Jack-the-Ripper style aura due to his utter inexplicability.

The investigation was the subject of two books by Robert Graysmith (played in the film by Jake Gyllenhaal), a former political cartoonist for the San Francisco Chronicle who became obsessed with the case after the Zodiac sent taunting letters to his paper and demanded that they be published on the front page. Fincher’s film follows Graysmith’s dedicated quest, along with those of detectives Dave Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) and Bill Armstrong (Anthony Edwards, finally securing a good post-ER role) and star Chronicle reporter Paul Avery (Robert Downey, Jr.) and the destructive power the Zodiac comes to have over them all. This is primarily a film about the obsession with closure rather than the attainment of it, especially since the ‘bad guy’ is not caught or killed at the end. As in the real case, the film ends with a strong indication that a certain party was responsible, but sufficient proof is never acquired. That’s not a spoiler, as Zodiac is about the journey rather than the destination.

The closest the film comes to a conventional serial killer film – or even a crime drama – is in the opening half hour when the Zodiac’s killings are depicted, most notably in two harrowing sequences virtually free of gore but wrenching in their sharp, brutal acts of violence. If you find this sort of scene too much, I encourage perseverance, because once they’re over you’re virtually home free as Zodiac then transforms into an ironically modern hybrid of 70s classics All the President’s Men and The Conversation, as Toschi diligently wades through due process in pursuit of a result (a stark contrast to the Dirty Harry-style on-screen cops that Toschi unwittingly inspired, as he wryly observes in the film), Avery haphazardly makes breakthroughs while drug addiction slowly takes hold, and Graysmith develops the insatiable need to know the identity of this urban ghoul, even as his burgeoning family life suffers. Not to belittle Fincher’s truly stellar prior efforts, but I’m sure even he would admit that Zodiac is his most mature, nuanced film yet. It is actually startling to compare Seven and especially Fight Club - with their respective chic despair and anarchic wit - with this film, to the point where Zodiac feels like the work of a different filmmaker. Only scenes like Gyllenhaal’s panic when suspecting that a middle-aged projectionist is the Zodiac recall the caustic wit of his other work.

In the five year gap between the entertaining mainstream experiment Panic Room and Zodiac, Fincher seems to have been reborn as a culturally and historically-minded director of great subtlety, willing to probe the depths of the psyche using performance and space rather than extravagant art direction and adventurous camera moves. This is not an indictment of his past films, but Fincher himself has already written the book on marrying stylism with the mainstream, so a step backward was a wise move in order to step forward. Instead of crisp, fresh gestures, Zodiac is as much a film about exhaustion as obsession. Every scene feels meticulously constructed to within an inch of its life, but not so they are rendered lifeless. Instead, the film feels vibrant in its detail, as Fincher and screenwriter James Vanderbilt’s intensive research (and Graysmith’s own, naturally) along with Fincher’s perfectionism in demanding endless takes, coalesce into a film that drips history, that is acutely in touch with the reality of the events it depicts while at the same time being a movie, first and foremost. Fincher has in fact aimed for the opposite extreme of Seven, using art to exalt reality rather than transforming reality with artistic extravagance. Zodiac is a remarkable film that feels like a breath of fresh, shocking air in an industry where the detailed, intensive drama is a rare beast, and it coheres even more startlingly but reassuringly with every subsequent viewing.

Sunshine

An irony of the space movie subgenre is that although few are made these days, the precedent has been so powerfully and influentially set by a mighty few that the few new entries still have difficulty carving a niche. The latest, Danny Boyle’s Sunshine, is so overtly a melange of prior movies that for once I couldn’t escape that hackneyed critical fallback of “This Movie meets That Movie”: Sunshine is “Solaris meets Alien meets The Fountain”. Or I could more facetiously simplify it as “Event Horizon, only good.”

The similarities to Paul W.S. Anderson’s forgettable space horror are disquieting, right down to the final threat, but the tone and ambiguity of Sunshine are sufficiently divergent that we shouldn’t be ringing the plagiarism bells. We enter the story partway through an international mission to re-ignite the sun, which fifty years from now has inexplicably begun to fail. Physicist Robert Capa (Cillian Murphy, reuniting with Boyle after 28 Days Later) has designed a truly massive nuclear device to do the job that is being pushed to the sun by a ship manned by Murphy, Chris Evans, Rose Byrne, Hiroyuki Sanada, Michelle Yeoh, Cliff Curtis, Troy Garity, and Benedict Wong. This is the majority of the cast, but when the ship receives a distress call from its predecessor, presumed destroyed, their situation begins to change…

I don’t want to give away any more than that, but a key twist gives way to a significantly different third act, wherein Sunshine morphs from a claustrophobic science thriller into a quite disturbing horror film, but the transition is surprisingly smooth and logical, aided by Boyle’s hugely accomplished direction. His career is beginning to rival Ang Lee’s in its diversity and consistent quality, as Boyle’s first space film shows others how it’s done, which is all the more remarkable given its moderate budget. While Sunshine is consistently gripping, the third act features audacious camerawork that cleverly keeps the final threat largely unseen, although we see enough to find it truly scary. Then for the final minutes, the film shifts again into a transcendent, beautiful denouement that, although inexplicable to me at the time, was stunning to watch.

Boyle is aided by a strong cast, particularly Byrne, giving her character resilience while never shying away from the painful emotions the situation would unleash, and Evans, a world away from Johnny Storm here as the commanding but sympathetic engineer whose fate is wrenching to watch. The others, apart from Murphy, aren’t as well served, and Yeoh and Sanada are particularly wasted. But a ship needs a crew and 2-hour films can’t always serve them all. It would have helped if writer Alex Garland had avoided the occasional cliché, such as the newly promoted leader giving irrational orders out of fear, but this is largely an intelligent and understated script. I certainly felt more wonder at this elegant $50 million story than the overstuffed $200+ million odysseys offered elsewhere this year.

Pirates of the Caribbean - At World's End

Well, this is a fairly pointless review at this late date, isn’t it? In fact, reviewing a film like Pirates 3 is an ideal case study for the ongoing discussion about the value and influence of film criticism, given that critics will barely matter for a film that has acquired this level of popular love. Everyone who wants to will show up once they’re aware of the film’s existence via marketing, and any who might but don’t are swayed by word of mouth. Whether they like the movie or not, professional critics are essentially jumping up and down, futilely trying to attract attention to their opinion pieces. Alas, that debate will be long and multi-faceted as how we receive our entertainment changes. For now, I’ll just offer my thoughts on the third Pirates movie.

Rarely does a film offer so little in the way of surprise while still being utterly satisfying albeit immensely forgettable. I would have to sit down and strain to remember the Pirates 3 storyline. It was very entertaining at the time, although a little long at nearly three hours and rather awkwardly structured with the departure of Chow Yun-Fat’s pirate lord Sao Feng halfway through and the unimpressive presence of supposed orchestrator Lord Beckett (Tom Hollander). Plus there’s the staggeringly lame appointment of Keira Knightley’s character as a pirate lord in an attempt to keep the character relevant in lieu of any significant on-screen charisma. Orlando Bloom too continues to be adequate but stony as Will Turner, although the resolution of his story provides one of the film’s few surprises. Geoffrey Rush is sadly wasted as the returning Barbossa, his resurrection proving to be an afterthought and the script refusing him anything more than a rerun of his role in the first film. Bill Nighy and ILM’s Davy Jones continues to astonish though – the character is genuinely the first CG entity that is perfectly integrated into its live-action surroundings.

And Johnny Depp, of course, is magnetic, and is this time afforded more cracking dialogue and zany antics than in the last entry. Depp is both the blessing and the curse of this series, as he both distracts from and reminds us of the hollowness of the Pirates movies. They are fun entertainments, but they are not as memorable or lovingly crafted as touchstone adventure sagas like Indiana Jones and Star Wars. Taken in isolation, Depp’s performances are classic in their determined resolution to subvert all norms for movies of this scope. Jack Sparrow is a British sketch character transplanted into a Hollywood blockbuster, and the immense charisma and wit Depp brings to an eccentric outsider mark his work as fodder for the ages. But the movies themselves are merely highly competent, perfectly effective and harmless outings all the more laudable for the work that has gone into their technical brilliance. They are not entertainment travesties like Underworld or Batman and Robin, but they do not have the grandeur or weighty resonance of The Lord of the Rings.

Of course, do not misunderstand me as expecting greatness from Saturday afternoon entertainments. For most these movies are pure fun, and that is perfectly all right. But they cannot help but be judged within the wider canvass of the cinematic epic, especially given the staggering budget of these things - the $300 million ballpark that the Pirates 3 and Spider-Man 3 budgets were located in is the first time I have felt guilty about going to a major motion picture, especially since they are not classics that give more with each viewing. With that financial onus they have even more to answer for in the context of cinema, and while Pirates 3 is capable and smoothly exciting, it is not lasting. We can’t know that until we enter the cinema, but it should be a criterion for how high films of this type should shoot for.

Ocean's Thirteen

Is it too much to ask that a heist movie actually be interesting? Apparently so, as the powerhouse team of Soderbergh and his Ocean’s cast have opted to live in a talent vacuum for the third instalment of the series, a dull, needlessly complex, too-cool-for-school affair that is even more guilty of entertaining the cast and not the audience than its predecessor (well, me at least – the plentiful box office tragically says otherwise). I cut Ocean’s Twelve some slack for at least trying a new formula that deprioritised the heist, but the third film’s combination of another Eleven-style Vegas heist and Twelve’s void of characterisation and wit cannot stand, especially since Soderbergh and Clooney have delivered such stellar work for years now.

Granted, Ocean’s Thirteen does change the group's motive. Instead of money, this time it’s revenge, after Al Pacino’s casino mogul double-crosses original Elevener Elliot Gould, who then has a coronary. To even the scales, Clooney and co. hatch a scheme so that Pacino will lose billions on opening night thanks to technical know-how, lots of money, and also some kind of lust serum…. This premise would be fine if the movie actually featured any risk for the main characters. Only once do they hit a snag, and it proves inconsequential; otherwise we just watch as these charming people achieve everything they set out to without a hitch because they’re just so cool.

I feel quite lame for complaining about the lack of characterisation in a caper flick, but it is necessary, especially since we’re fairly used to the genre by now. Alas, the cast are essentially playing themselves, except this time they’re even smoother. Even Damon’s previously bumbling Linus knows just what he’s doing. This too could be forgiven if the plot was discernible beyond the basics (Vincent Cassel returns for a job I still haven’t got my head around) and if there were any good jokes. The best ones truly are in the trailer, and those weren’t very good, even in context. Look, Casey Affleck’s posing as a Mexican! Ellen Barkin has uncontrollable lust for Matt Damon in a big fake nose! Hilarity!

The series has always been a little different from similar beasts thanks to Soderbergh’s occasionally raw camerawork, the lack of slapstick, and the non-sequiturs, but it’s getting tired now. Clooney and Pitt reminiscing about how much Vegas has changed does not add colour and nuance, especially when after three movies the characters are still ciphers. It even sounds ludicrous when they refer to each other as ‘Rusty’ and ‘Danny’ since their characters’ slick lifestyle is so close to how we perceive Hollywood routine that the line between Clooney and Pitt and their vapid roles is almost completely blurred. And I’d be furious at how Pacino is wasted if he hadn’t already made such bad choices over the last five years (except for Angels in America). Instead it’s just disheartening.

I know this has not been a particularly constructive critique, but I haven’t wanted my time back this badly since A Night at the Museum, although this is more infuriating because of the talent involved. And now I hear they’re discussing a fourth one after initially claiming this would be the last. Oh, spare me. Do not see this movie.

Romulus, My Father

I always cheer when an Australian actor who’s hit the big-time in Hollywood returns home, especially when it’s for a locally financed production. If the movie’s actually good, then I’m on Cloud Nine. And Romulus, My Father is certainly very, very good.

Marking the directorial debut of stalwart Aussie actor Richard Roxburgh, Romulus, My Father adapts renowned philosopher Raimond Gaita’s much-loved memoir about his painful upbringing in 1960s Victoria by immigrant parents Romulus and Christina, here played by Eric Bana and Franka Potente. As the film begins the family is already fracturing, as Christina’s mental illness causes her to detach from her husband and son and take up with family friend Mitru (Russell Dykstra). Devoted Romulus quietly permits this, although his love for his wife continues unabated. Both parents are scarred by their own upbringings in war-torn Europe, hindering the family from connecting to each other in a meaningful fashion, and so we follow Raimond, played superbly by Kodi Smit-MacPhee without a hint of preciousness, as he tries to understand a tragedy that encompasses but predates him.

There haven’t been too many films about the Australian ethnic immigrant experience, and Romulus, My Father strives to illuminate the difficulties of voluntary assimilation when coupled with deep personal trauma. Although beautifully shot, this is predominantly an actor’s film - no surprise given that Roxburgh is at the helm - and the choice pays off handsomely. In lieu of a sense of historical sweep we are deeply embedded with some beautiful performances, with Potente giving one of her best as Christina and Bana following up Munich in grand fashion. Dykstra and Marton Csokas as loyal friend and fellow immigrant Hora ably support them, but Kodi Smit-MacPhee is the heart of the film, and Roxburgh’s acting experience allows him to draw a touching and complex turn from this young and relatively inexperienced actor. It’s one of the most sophisticated and intelligent young adult performances in quite some time, and could help the film in its broader success even more than the presence of Bana and Potente.

This is another delightful entry in Australia’s great film streak of the last couple of years; let’s hope that other overseas successes like Bana and Roxburgh also return home to tell Australian stories.

And we're back

After a three-month sabbatical (there's a euphemism if ever there was one), Remote Wanderings is back with a fiery vengeance. Film reviews, news, and links of note will now pour forth as steadily as I get around to them. There will be a few reviews going up today and hopefully some more tomorrow, along with the major news of the past few months that springs to mind and some choice links from across the interweb. These reviews will be me playing catch-up, but look for my take on new releases like Transformers and Knocked Up shortly after they come out (I hope).

So pull up a chair and a preferred beverage and prepare to be dazzled by some moderately competent reviews. Tell your friends!

State of the Lost Union

SPOILERS for Lost season three, episodes 1-11

It’s been a controversial season for Lost. The inevitable backlash has set in, with viewers decrying the lack of forward momentum in the show’s mythology even more strongly than before, declaring that Lost has lost its way and other such puns. Some have not heard masterminds Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse speak of their grand plan and the jeopardy it faces from the indeterminate nature of the ongoing network TV show. The others are those skeptical of any authority behind the show’s mysteries at all. Many from both camps have abandoned the show this season, with ratings disturbingly low and no doubt affected by the ten-week break – despite being designed to placate rerun-fatigued fans - and the more immediately satisfying but arguably less provocative Heroes...

With any backlash against a long-running pop institution, it’s easy to question the audience’s attention span and commitment to seeing a vision fulfilled in the face of a gauntlet of practical obstacles. I’ll admit that I have defended Lost against such exhausted former aficionados because I feel that the show has achieved and offered so much that it needs to be cut some slack. Or perhaps I just like to continue rooting for a show I like when it becomes the underdog, despite a dip in quality.

But with the third season of Lost, even I, keeper of the faith, am a little worried. The show is still engrossing week-to-week, but concerns about redundancy and execution keep rearing their head. The contemplative pacing that has frustrated so many is finally getting to me after two seasons spent entrancing me. By announcing itself as an elaborate genre-based mystery, Lost could really only use its emphasis on characterisation and texture as an excuse for so long. Now that the investigation of these characters is becoming repetitive and imbalanced, the desire to be delivered the goods is starting to trump all other concerns. Although enriched by its diverse and often nuanced characters, Lost still has obligations to its essential nature as a thoughtful genre mystery, or at the very least to avoid inundating us with cumbersome flashbacks that we are told are true to the show’s inherent nature.

The rupturing of the cast this season after the cliffhanger finale was most notable for finally removing the Jack/Kate/Sawyer love triangle into its own separate location, turning a diverting character subplot into a paradigm that determined the show’s essential structure, albeit for only ten episodes. We were promised a rationale for the convenient extraction of the fanfic-inspiring and fairly hackneyed love triangle, but none has yet been offered. Of course, a very satisfying explanation may yet turn up, but the focus on this trio has compounded the imbalance that was gradually coming into effect over the first two seasons.

While the alternation in season three between different pods of characters – often for entire episodes – has been refreshing and attests to the elaborate structural efforts of seasons one and two, several characters are being woefully neglected, and the omission becomes almost sinful when new characters are then being introduced. Lindelof and Cuse have justified the expansion of the cast – first with season two’s now eliminated ‘Tailies’ - by citing the new frontiers that they offer for deepening and furthering Lost, with the added bonus that brand-new flashbacks can be offered. While true, the virtual abandonment of some original characters – principally Emilie de Ravin’s Claire and Naveen Andrews’s Sayid – implies that adding new names to the credits is due less to confident expansion and more to the writers being unsure of how else to use the people they have, that perhaps they did not develop these characters and their purpose within the show sufficiently at the outset.

Plus, while the addition of Emerson, Mitchell and Henry Ian Cusick’s delightful Desmond was at least organic and logical given what has come before, the purpose of Paolo (Rodrigo Santoro) and Nikki (Kiele Sanchez) better be revealed as seriously compelling or otherwise their inclusion will reek of desperation. Lindelof and Cuse have implied that these two - ostensibly survivors of the plane crash and merely unseen until now - were a response to fan inquiries about only seeing the in-crowd of the dozen principal cast members at the expense of the other thirty-odd castaways. But the woefully awkward shoehorning of these two into the narrative as if they have always been there confirms that they should have left well enough alone, particularly since they have barely featured in the eleven episodes broadcast so far. I want to believe that there is a grand design behind Nikki and Paolo and that the neglect of Claire and Sayid has been worth it. TV Guide’s very in-touch Michael Ausiello – similarly frustrated with the newbies – has learned that episode fourteen will feature their flashback, which precipitates a huge change that will have watercoolers buzzing etc etc, and that deceased characters Shannon, Boone, Ethan, and dynamited schoolteacher Arntz will inexplicably appear in the flashback scenes. We’ve heard this talk before, but perhaps Nikki and Paolo do indeed tie in to the story in a significant way. Fingers crossed.

Regardless, episode eleven was a small step in the right direction when it returned Sayid to the spotlight, and this week’s episode is a Claire flashback. However, their sudden return to the narrative only draws attention to their regular absence, as if the writers are content to ignore them until their flashbacks finally roll around. The best ensemble dramas, such as Deadwood (except for season 3) and especially The Wire, manage to keep their characters in play constantly. Although a formidable juggling challenge, it needs to be met if a show insists on having a massive cast. In contrast to these shows, I’d wager that Claire has appeared in less than half a dozen Lost scenes this season, which makes the enormous focus on Jack, Kate and Sawyer even more aggravating.

The fixation with this triangle of beautiful people has become painfully obvious, because although they are among the show’s most interesting characters, they can be overused, particularly Sawyer. Even after placing him centre stage for eight episodes, the writers still had to insert him into nearly every subsequent B-story, as if he were some good luck charm against wavering audience interest. After this season-long imbalance, episode eleven, “Enter 77”, reminded us that the show’s secret weapon has been patiently waiting in the wings: Naveen Andrews’s Sayid. The final scene of his flashback was the single most affecting scene of the season, a slap in the face to those of us who had forgotten that these flashbacks were once able to elicit such profound pathos, a trait now eliminated by the format’s growing redundancy. As much as I enjoy the Jack character and admire the surprisingly versatile and powerful Matthew Fox, his woeful tattoo flashback was Lost’s nadir and cemented the errors of balance that the show has been perpetrating, as if the character has hit some kind of critical mass when he need not have. Lost appears to have painted itself into a corner by establishing flashbacks as a weekly staple rather than an intermittent feature. No show on TV at present has become so saddled by a superficial convention.

But far more has been made of Lost’s plotting this season than its characterisation, and I won’t deny that there are problems. Much has been made of Heroes’s rapid narrative and the efficient resolutions to its mysteries. This is all true, but that show utterly lacks the texture and contemplation of Lost. I am sorely tempted to charge that Heroes is Lost for those with short attention spans, but that would vastly oversimplify Heroes’s appeal and Lost’s dilemma. I do feel though that Heroes is instantly satisfying rather than casting a lingering spell, much like 24. However, as much as texture has tipped Lost from standard TV genre fare into something greater, the writers have, at last, been leaning too hard on detail and some ultimately superfluous drama (Sawyer’s prison stint, Kate’s dull husband – sorry Fillion) to prolong the overarching story. When the show has gotten action-packed this season, it was usually a cat-and-mouse game of abduction, interrogation, hostages, and escape that did not progress the narrative much, replete with the stereotypical hard-nosed bad guy in Pickett (Michael Bowen). While Lost should absolutely not be pure, undiluted ‘mythology’ and we should not expect answers or progress at predictable intervals, the word ‘stalling’ can’t help but finally come to mind (‘finally’ for me at least. Others have accused it of that since season one’s hatch-tease conclusion). To cap it all, since the texture has been less insightful and effective, the whole endeavour has been a little iffy this season.

But the season has provided some gems that delivered both meaty character work and an active consideration of the show’s core questions, narratively and philosophically. Despite these lengthy criticisms, Lost is far from a ---- cause (I couldn’t bring myself to complete that phrase). Desmond’s time-travelling flashback (if that’s what it was) deftly played on the show’s standard structure, and the jewellery-store owner (Fionula Flanagan) being aware of what Desmond is experiencing makes that mini-saga very beguiling indeed. But the episode embodies one of the principal complaints about the show by setting up an elaborate and fascinating scenario and giving virtually no clue as to its cause, essentially putting it in dry dock until the writers drag it out again. Lindelof has hinted that this episode works toward the ‘game-changer’ coming later this season, so it is clearly not meant to be redundant, but it merely aggravates fans further rather than placating them.

If the upcoming game-changer is as significant as we’re led to believe, it could serve as the ultimate test of Lost’s ability to deliver as a piece of popular culture, and that’s not just on the level of ‘will they give us answers?’, a simplified complaint that while often justified fails to account for the show’s clearly ambitious nature. If the game-changer allows us to look back on this season and understand its excesses, if it points clearly toward a grand design and the downhill journey that Lindelof and Cuse insist that they are now on, then there is hope for Lost. But if this season ends with a vast miasma of not only mythology questions, but questions about the show’s integrity and vision, then Lost’s legacy will be abundantly clear. It feels terrible to be so cold about a show that I still dearly love and still has such promise, but it’s the truth of the matter. At some point in a story designed for a handful of seasons – even if not an exact number - patience becomes gullibility and the money needs to be where the mouth is. But we’re only halfway through the season. We need to be hopeful, although that may just make us more pissed off in the end.

Say what?!

Cate Blanchett has signed to play the female lead in Indiana Jones 4.

Now that's a hell of a catch, but I'm gobsmacked as to why the continuously in-demand Blanchett would choose the resuscitation of a twenty-year old franchise as her next movie. As much as I enjoy the Indy flicks, I'll be questioning the wisdom of a new installment with a 60-something Harrison Ford until the day of release. That, of course, has become a cliched criticism ever since the film was seriously mooted a few years ago, but it's a valid concern. Do Ford, Spielberg, and Lucas have blinkers on about the viability of this? Are they clouded by their understandable love for a really enjoyable set of movies? And being such a creature of the 80s, does Indy fit in to the modern world?

I'm skeptical, but would love to be proved wrong. And as puzzling as it is, Blanchett signing on suggests that this may end up being a pretty classy project after all. As soon as I heard this news I couldn't help recalling her flamboyant performance as Katherine Hepburn in The Aviator, and if she goes for that tone I think she'll fit right in.

[I am so chuffed with that picture. Just perfect for this news. Gotta love Google Image Search.]

More news I deem interesting

Below the cut/jump, there's news and thoughts on the latest addition to The Dark Knight, the nature of the JJ Abrams's Star Trek movie, Joe Carnahan's bad fortune, JMS getting a damn good director, and the first 'look' at Zack Snyder's Watchmen.

- Maggie Gyllenhaal has joined The Dark Knight, replacing Katie Holmes as assistant district attorney Rachel Dawes. For a superhero sequel, this lineup is becoming pretty remarkable: Heath Ledger, Aaron Eckhart, and now Gyllenhaal, in addition to Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Gary Oldman, and Morgan Freeman.

But it's doubly amazing that they managed to get the much in-demand and more highly regarded Gyllenhaal to take Katie Holmes's leftovers. Plus, the role as written wasn't very deep to begin with - perhaps it's been enhanced for the sequel, especially since her new boss is Eckhart's Harvey Dent, who will become crucial when he transforms into Two-Face in either this film or the potential third. Regardless, we have traded up enormously here - there's not a weak link in this cast, and the role of detective Renee Montoya (yay!) could add yet another big name.

As for Holmes's departure, it's been fun reading the suspected reasons: that she was fired because she and Tom Cruise are maniacal crackpots who are impossible to deal with; that Cruise is unable to handle seeing his wife in romantic scenes with another man, hence her next film is a lame female buddy comedy with no love story; that she wasn't permitted to spend the time overseas and thus away from her family. I loathe celebrity gossip, but even to me the Cruise family's self-destructive fall from grace has been perversely compelling to observe.

- screenwriters Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman have confirmed to MTV that their JJ Abrams-directed Star Trek film will be a Galactica-style re-imagining of the franchise rather than a prequel. There will be cries of heresy, but if you're doing Kirk and Spock in continuity, all your credibility vanishes when the 1960s Enterprise bridge shows up on screen. For whatever reason, they’ve opted to revisit these characters, so rebooting is a necessary move.

I adored Trek in its prime and still do in principle, but won't waste an iota of energy worrying about this project. There are many, many hours of great Star Trek TV and movies already out there, and this new film won't change that. Frankly, I'll be fascinated to see the core Trek ideas dressed up in fancy new clothing, hopefully with the dose of freshness and modernity that Enterprise promised but so massively lacked (a schmaltzy theme song and more sexy time does not a franchise invigoration make)

However, finding a design and filming style for a 21st century spaceship-bound story that is different from Galactica will be a challenge. Damn, there are a lot of variables in play with this one. Regardless, it's out on Christmas Day, 2008.

Orci and Kurtzman also confirm that the film's title will be simply Star Trek, the simplest moniker of all that wasn’t even used for the first film. A lot about the project's intentions can be found right there in that title. Plus, they say that this will be the most action-oriented Star Trek film of all - careful there guys, don't go overboard and miss the point.

[I would link you to the MTV site, but since it's a cumbersome Flash monstrosity I saved you the bother and sent you to IGN.]

- poor Joe Carnahan. He can't catch a break. Between Narc and this year's Smokin' Aces he endured five years of movies that couldn't get off the ground. Finally back on solid ground, he suddenly has Reese Witherspoon pulling out of Bunny Lake is Missing five weeks before production begins. This will inevitably cause a delay that may affect the start date of the George Clooney-starring James Ellroy adaptation White Jazz.

For further salt, the inexplicably in-development direct L.A. Confidential sequel screws with White Jazz, one of Ellroy’s tangential sequels to his L.A. Confidential novel, as Carnahan is now forced to remove the character of Ed Exley, played by Guy Pearce in the original film. And while Carnahan is plugging along with a genuine, artistically distinct, non-cash-in follow-up to L.A Confidential, along comes a movie sequel not even based on an Ellroy novel, and apparently they are trying to lure Pearce and Russell Crowe back. Good luck.

Confused? Imagine how the unlucky Mr. Carnahan feels. Thanks to CHUD for the Bunny Lake story and IGN for the Ellroy-related issues as explained on Carnahan's blog.

- Babylon 5 creator J. Michael Straczynski is coming up in the world after twenty-five years in the TV trenches. He has reported that since selling his original screenplay The Changeling to Ron Howard’s Imagine Entertainment, he's been fielding a lot of offers. One was recently revealed: Straczynski will be adapting Max Brooks's zombie war 'history' World War Z for Brad Pitt's company. But today the cherry on top was announced: The Changeling will be directed by Clint Eastwood, with Angelina Jolie in talks to star. Not bad at all for the B5 guy.

I'd be much more revved if I hadn't become cynical about JMS's self-indulgent writing style in recent years, but I'm still fond enough of the guy's work and stories to be happy for him for coming up in the world.

The Changeling is based on bizarrely true events in the 1920s, and follows "a woman whose son is abducted but retrieved; she suspects, however, that the returned child is not her kid. The woman must then confront corruption in the LAPD." Not sure how those two can be linked, but all will obviously be revealed.

And damn, Eastwood is really churning them out. Filming is set for the end of the year.

- it’s nearly Easter, so an egg hunt is natural. The uncut 300 trailer from last year’s Comicon has emerged online, and fans have inexplicably found a single frame of a live-action Rorschach from Watchmen, Zack Snyder’s next film. Filming hasn’t begun and there’s no cast yet, so this could only be a test shot or a hoax.

It’s a cool little shot, and Harry at AICN confirms that it is indeed part of test footage that Snyder has shot during pre-production and slipped into this trailer for fun. He has a high-res version of the image courtesy of Snyder. I’m sure that the final Rorschach will look better than this, a little dirtier and less fuzzy, but it’s the first glimpse of its kind into an alternate reality where a Watchmen film actually might get made. However, Paul Greengrass got to this stage too, shooting pre-vis and finalising costumes before Paramount shut down the project, so it’s still touch and go.

300’s performance this weekend should prove to the studio whether they should have faith in the project. We should know by the end of the year, without a shadow of a doubt, whether that reality will be ours.

News I deem interesting

- Zack Snyder has a new film set up to follow 300 and Watchmen, his first original script. Called Sucker Punch, he describes it as "Alice in Wonderland with machine guns". Nuff bloody said.

- old news, but cool nonetheless. Anna Paquin has signed as the lead in Alan Ball's vampire series True Blood for HBO. Although based on a series of books of questionable quality, Ball + HBO + vampires + Paquin is strange and tantalising indeed.

Looks to be a good year for HBO, with the final run of The Sopranos in April (I hope like hell that it recovers its momentum), David Milch's new show John from Cincinatti (cannot wait) and season 2 of Big Love (the first was nice, hopefully the second will be worth the visit), both in June, True Blood at the end of the year, and the 7-hour mini-series John Adams about the second US president starring Paul Giamatti (yay!) and Laura Linney. 

- talking of the Horrendous Body Odour network, Martin Scorsese and Mark Wahlberg are teaming up to produce a show about the construction of Atlantic City. Scorsese and HBO - marvellous. Doesn't say whether it's a mini or an ongoing - either way it's good.

- I was amazed to read that Zach Braff stands to recieve a $350K per episode pay day if Scrubs is renewed for a seventh season. Not bad for someone who was a complete nobody when the series started who stars in a perennial underdog comedy who's one of the funniest looking romantic leads on TV.  Don't get me wrong, I love Scrubs, but this is remarkable to me.

- a newspaper article on "Maelstrom" reveals that Katee Sackhoff is only 26!! Cue massive inferiority complex about achievements thus far in life.

- holy crap. I was just wondering if Carrie-Anne Moss would be forced to turn to television this morning while watching the trailer for her film Snow Cake, and lo and behold, while looking for the Paquin article on Coming Soon I find that she's signed for Guy Ritchie's pilot Suspect. Creepy.

- Devin Faraci interviews Zack Snyder on 300 and Watchmen. For the record, here is my ideal Watchmen cast, as best as I can summon one:

Nite-Owl - Philip Seymour Hoffman
Silk Spectre - Julianne Moore
Ozymandias - Clive Owen?? (this is a tough one)
Rorschach - John C. McGinley(Dr Cox from Scrubs) or Sam Rockwell
The Comedian - Ian McShane (although it's so close to Al Swearengen in temperament that I bet he'll never do it)
Dr. Manhattan - who the hell knows

- and finally, TV Guide's inimitable Matt Roush has seen the final three episodes of Battlestar Galactica's third season, and reacts thusly:

"I guarantee nobody will be able to predict the twists in the March 25 season finale, which will make you question everything you thought you knew about nearly everyone and everything. My jaw is still smarting from gaping in astonished disbelief.

The wait between seasons is going to be excruciating."

That sounds like a bit of all right.

Battlestar Galactica - Maelstrom

MASSIVE SPOILERS for episode 17 of Battlestar Galactica’s third season, “Maelstrom”. Seriously, the pivotal two-word spoiler lies beyond this cut, and it's going to cause an uproar.

Okay, so not as game-changing as I made out to be. But now that I re-read the scuttlebutt from Ron Moore and David Eick, they suggest that “Maelstrom” only kicks off the changes of the final three episodes. Oops… Oh Don Piano, indeed. Still, there’s a fairly big character change.

Starbuck’s death is an odd one. The entire episode is devoted to her fragile state, as she begins to hallucinate a Cylon raider, dreams of Leoben and the ancient symbol from the Eye of Jupiter temple that she has painted since childhood, and flashes back in the final act to her abusive and tormented mother. There’s no discernible plot to speak of, and for all of Leoben’s talk since season one of her destiny, we still get virtually no clue as to what it is. Given Starbuck’s indisputable physical death (her Viper implodes), these mythology questions appear to have been raised and left unanswered once again. I foresee two possibilities.

First, Katee Sackhoff wanted to leave and this scuppered the writers’ plans for her arc. Not wanting to ignore the groundwork they have laid, they tie it into her demise in a fashion that implies an apotheosis of some kind.

However, Moore and Eick insist that her death (although not revealed at the time of the interview, of course) precipitates a drastic change in direction for the show. As central as Starbuck is to the ensemble, Sackhoff’s departure would not necessitate a course correction for the mythology, unlike say, James Callis’s Baltar. Which brings me to the second possibility: that Starbuck’s destiny has not yet been achieved, and that she will be back, looking like Sackhoff or otherwise.

Here’s my theory, which just came to me and I want to preserve here for prosperity. Unlike many other engaged TV viewers, I very rarely speculate about a show’s direction or the answers to its mysteries, either because I like to be swept along and surprised or because I have no creativity – one of the two. But I have something this time:

I don’t think that Starbuck is a Cylon. I think that this far into the show’s run, revealing any cast member as being one is going to be difficult to swallow, but Starbuck seems like a particularly big leap. But I do wonder whether she is somehow going to be reborn via the Cylons, perhaps as a Cylon-human hybrid ala Hera, and that her destiny is to bridge the gap between the two races (although where that would leave Hera, allegedly central to Galactica’s core questions, is unknown). How this eventuality can have its roots in Kara’s childhood - her mother’s insistence that she is ‘special’ and her painting the eye-like symbol - is an open question, but it’s not inconceivable that something done to her on the Caprican ‘farm’ or during her abduction on New Caprica has prepared her for downloading. After all, the Leoben we see guiding her through her flashback in this episode said that he would show her the majesty between life and death, or words to that effect.

I dunno, we’ll see. But Starbuck, Cylon-human hybrid… watch this space.

Nicely acted and written episode though, with Sackhoff going out (if she is) on a high with some meaty if well-worn material about her dominating, massively insecure mother. There was a very poignant scene between Starbuck and Apollo that almost made up for the quadrangle tripe earlier this season, and Adama’s final grief-stricken gesture is powerful, one of the only moments that we’ve seen this stalwart character enraged. Plus, Callum Keith Rennie shines as Leoben once again. This guy can deliver lines like nobody’s business, giving every sentence a creepy grandeur. He’s been a great recurring fixture since the series began, and I hope we saw more of him as this storyline continues, whatever it turns out to be.

If this is the end for Starbuck though, plenty will be pissed off, especially since the headstrong Kara Thrace essentially commits suicide. Even the immensely minor Kat, with her inexplicable special episode earlier this season, had a heroic death. I’m of two minds though. On one hand, I’ve never had the immense adoration for the character that so many have. I’ve respected the creation of a strong female character that eschewed the butt-kicking conventions that have become cliché in recent years, and Sackhoff has been a consistently great performer. But she seems to have existed on the periphery of the show’s central myths and meanings and consequently I won’t miss her as much as I would other characters (Roslin, Baltar, Adama). On the other hand, I’m a little unsure about what Galactica will be without her. Will her absence be more keenly felt than I suspect in terms of the show’s essential makeup? We’ll have to find out. Or perhaps we won’t…

Letters from Iwo Jima

The grand irony of Clint Eastwood’s commendable project to portray the Battle of Iwo Jima from both the American and Japanese perspective is that Letters from Iwo Jima - the lower-budgeted, less commercially viable, and later conceived film - is significantly better than the ‘primary’ picture, Flags of our Fathers. The requisite lack of spectacle (due to a $15 million budget compared to Flags $60 million) has resulted in a more subtle and intelligent film. Everything about Letters from Iwo Jima, from structure to acting, is low-key in comparison, and the payoff is vast.

Sensibly, Letters is not merely Flags retold with a Japanese cast. Eastwood has decided against such a clinical mirror-image, so the central trio of Flags is nowhere to be found, the cumbersome time-jumping narrative is largely avoided, and the most statuesque character – Ken Watanabe’s General Kurybiashi – has no prominent counterpart in Flags. Although this helps to establish Letters as a film in its own right, the changes are actually repairs of Flags’s flaws. That film incorporated a recurring framing device, plus the soldiers at home, plus their memories of the battle, all self-destructively intermingled. Letters’s narrative is comparatively linear, merely top-and-tailed by Japanese historians excavating on the island and occasionally flashes back to the character’s pre-war lives in some very effective self-contained vignettes. The battle itself is the dominant story, enabling us to deepen our attachment to these characters so that the despairing climax is poignant and engrossing.

The two central characters are Watanabe’s practical general, who prohibits the suicide his officers often rapidly seek and thus incurs their disdain, and Kazunari Ninomiya’s young baker Saigo, drafted into service and angry about the price of protecting sacred soil. Although one could question the bias involved in having the two principals scorning embedded Japanese attitudes, their decisions at the climax and our response to their actions reveal something more complex. Watanabe is characteristically excellent, but Ninomiya is quite a find as Saigo. In him we have the endearing and accessible protagonist that Flags lacked, trapped by Ryan Phillippe’s lack of emoting and Adam Beach’s over-emoting. There are a number of additional interesting characters, including Shimizu (Ryo Kase), a disgraced military policeman, and compassionate Olympic athlete turned officer Nishi (Tsuyoshi Ihara). Nishi features in a key scene that sums up the entire project’s goals, when he captures an American soldier and orders him to be treated so that his men can finally meet the enemy. Upon the young man’s death, he reads them a letter from his mother, and the men contemplate that their foes hold dear the same values that they do.

Subplots like this can make the narrative a little episodic and prone to fits and starts, but there are so many powerful scenes that build to a resonant climax that it’s easily forgiven. Not to pick on Flags, but it so rarely offered such moments, except when Phillippe’s character finds a captured friend, now dead. We never see the possibly mutilated deceased, only Phillippe’s shadowed face. In Letters too, Eastwood doesn’t shy away from violence, implied or otherwise, particularly in one of the most harrowing scenes of the year, when a group of soldiers commit suicide with hand grenades one after another, after another, after another as the camera pans across them. While far less is shown than it could have been, the idea and glimpses converge for the raw truth about the Japanese conception of a noble death.

Despite such blunt force, there are moments of quiet beauty too. The eponymous letters are often spoken over happy moments back home, and the gentle joy actually reminded me of the films of Hayao Miyazaki (although such a kneejerk comparison may mean I need to see more Japanese cinema). Regardless, Eastwood has admirably captured a Japanese ethos in this film, particularly with the score, which immerses us in some gorgeous moments. He also doesn’t flinch from casting the American soldiers in a poor light, just as our glimpses of the Japanese in Flags are similarly horrific. In a desperate battle, the brutal is what will likely be seen in your enemy. Eastwood seeks to make this sad fact clear and to demonstrate that it is this unavoidable obstruction that causes warring cultures to descend further into oblivious conflict. For a right-winger, Eastwood has made a remarkably compassionate film here. It’s more than likely that of the two, Letters will be the one remembered, because Eastwood’s ultimate goal with the Iwo Jima endeavour can be found here alone if need be.

Battlestar Galactica Diary

After a month overseas, I’ve been playing catch-up with Battlestar Galactica, especially since the much-touted, game-changing episode “Maelstrom” is airing this Sunday, kicking off a five episode arc to conclude the season. So here’s some thoughts on the four episodes I’ve missed, and they’ll be followed soon by a Lost catch-up after my viewing buddy comes over tonight.

SPOILERS for season 3, episodes 13-16: Taking A Break From All Your Worries, The Woman King, A Day in the Life, and Dirty Hands.

Taking A Break From All Your Worries

It’s been a wildly uneven season for Galactica thus far, and this episode encapsulated everything that’s still great about the show and everything that’s wrong. The Baltar interrogation storyline was vintage Galactica, intense and provocative. However, I cannot convey how tedious I find this Starbuck/Apollo soap opera. I’m all for relationship sagas, but their story has so little depth and nuance that it jars horribly with the show’s more subtle characterisations. If the consummation of their long dance around each other had been restricted to the flashback episode earlier this season, it would have packed a punch. That was a strong episode that took them to a place the show had been itching to visit yet explained how it couldn’t continue, yet I was crestfallen to see the two pashing in secret two episodes later. Their spouses, Dualla and Anders, could make the quadrangle more interesting, but alas, their reasons for tolerating the unspoken betrayals have never been satisfactorily elucidated. Galactica has almost always managed to weave relationships seamlessly into its broader mythology and thematic tapestry, but this one has stuck out like a sore thumb. Perhaps later events will redeem all the attention it’s received, but I suspect that this was still a case where less would be more.

Thankfully, James Callis and Baltar more than compensate, as he is interrogated for information about the Cylons’ plans. But we know he knows nothing, so the drug-induced delusion he is eventually put under yields further probing of Baltar’s self-preserving, victimised psyche rather than vital intelligence, except this time, Adama and Roslin finally learn what Baltar has been experiencing from the start of the show. Whether they give a crap isn’t really clarified.

Edward James Olmos directs these scenes with a great eye, employing water tanks, extreme close-ups, and various other claustrophobic techniques to help us empathise with Baltar’s paranoia. James Callis deserves massive kudos for his performance this season, and this episode is the highlight. If anyone in the cast deserves an Emmy (as criminally unlikely as the academy rewarding this show is), it’s Callis. Baltar’s furious conviction in his own lack of culpability is breathtaking to behold.

However, what the hell were Adama and the bloody President doing interrogating Baltar personally?! This was so wildly implausible that it initially took me out of the episode. While it’s very satisfying to see McDonnell and Olmos confronting Callis after so much build-up, it should have been reserved for one-on-ones rather than shoehorning them into intelligence gathering. And sadly, the two leaders seem to hold back their emotions when it comes to Baltar, maintaining control throughout. This may be deliberate in order to convey their utter disdain for him, but it’s not very satisfying, as Baltar’s crimes should be eliciting more from Adama than clinical strategising. Conversely, Gaeta’s reaction is extreme and out-of-character. The Galactica crew consistently take the law into their own hands, and for once it would have been nice if words had carried the drama throughout.

But still, it’s an episode with great moments that lays some groundwork for the immediate future.

The Woman King

Oh lordy. A lot of people shit on season 2’s “Black Market”, but this officially marks the worst episode of the series to date, which is a shame since it showcases the underused Helo (Tahmoh Penikett). Despite the intricate world of the fleet that the show has constructed, Galactica is finding it very difficult these days to tell stand-alone stories. The core episodes, such as the New Caprica arc that opened the season, have raised such a high bar and are so resolutely non-formulaic that problem-of-the-week episodes should be beyond these writers. Because Galactica has always been such an organically plotted series, the need to introduce hitherto unseen guest characters and fleet problems is almost unavoidably awkward.

In "The Woman King", Bruce Davison plays a civilian doctor that we’ve never heard of before and the Sagittaron colony is established out of nowhere as so religiously fundamentalist that they reject all medical treatment. As Helo tries to manage the refugees now staying aboard Galactica, the story becomes a killer doctor tale where Davison is revealed as a racist murderer seeking to eliminate the pesky Sagittarons and free up the medicine. Yes, in a season with the carefully judged, plot-device free New Caprica stories, it’s come to this.

The episode is trying to make a point about whether inconvenient traditions should be respected in desperate times, but the Saggitarons are so implausibly backward and the doctor’s solution so extreme that any wit the discussion may have had is thrown out of the window. Plus, the resolution is far too stilted, with Helo vindicated purely because Doc Cottle was tired before and didn’t bother to do as he asked. The disbelieving characters then support Helo far too openly and readily – even the stubborn Tigh, who, of course, naturally considers the guest star of the week an old friend, thus Helo had even more to fight through…

It may he ham-fisted, but it’s not all bad. We get some long overdue insight into Helo, and Penikett clearly relishes the opportunity. Things get a little meta when Helo suggests that people see him solely as the Cylon’s husband, which is indeed what he’s been lately. This episode goes a little way to pushing past that, especially as we see he and Sharon fight for the first time since getting together, adding a nice dose of realism to their quite idyllic bond. Hopefully he continues to get something to do.

A Day in the Life

This one screams ‘missed opportunity’. Adama recalling his failed marriage could have been a superb character piece and a tour-de-force for Olmos, but it never comes close. Adama’s issues and anxieties are just laid out for us by his wife in a series of pseudo-flashbacks where she essentially voices what he cannot. We’re not able to infer anything, particularly because Olmos chooses to play this so low-key, partly because he’s preoccupied with the B-story.

Due to a cock-up sparked by Galactica’s rough shape since the battle above New Caprica, Cally and Chief Tyrol are trapped in a sealed room with a tiny hull breach, and the crew must rescue them by venting them into space and catching them with a raptor. Like all the couples on the show, these guys have been having problems, with the Chief reverting to his unmarried, pre-New Caprica self too much for Cally’s liking; she feels that she and their baby are being neglected. Cue a tie-in to Adama’s own regrets about not being there for his kids, the Chief realising what he’s been missing due to near-death experience, blah blah. Galactica seems to have lost so much of the subtlety that was its hallmark, at least temporarily. Even the dialogue seems weak these days – what’s going on?

It does conclude with a great scene between Olmos and McDonnell where they very gently imply their attraction and perhaps even love for each other, but that their responsibilities prohibit them from acting on it, despite the evening they spent together on New Caprica. Although we saw nothing happen besides an intimate conversation, it now occurs to me that this episode too doesn’t rule out the possibility that perhaps they did embrace the change that the new planet offered. Hmmm…. Anyway, it’s a great little scene and a long-awaited one. These two actors are class acts and they deserve Emmys, blah blah, not gonna happen etc etc.

Well, I have one more stand-alone before “Maelstrom”, and perhaps that headlong plunge into the core story again (if I interpret the buzz correctly) will restore the show to fighting fitness again. Looking at these episodes though, I must say that the shorter, 13-episode order for next season is looking very promising. As great as seasons two and part of three have been, they never matched the taut efficiency of the first.

Dirty Hands

Now this is more like it. Only two episodes after its worst stand-alone episode yet, Galactica delivers one of its best. Eschewing plot devices and stock storylines for a terrific political exploration of the practical ramifications of the ‘rag-tag fleet’, “Dirty Hands” is smart and thought-provoking. What a relief.

The refinery ship that produces the fleet’s fuel has demanded better working conditions, so Chief Tyrol is sent to try and assess the problem. Some workers are being spurred to action by chapters of a book that Baltar is writing from prison, smuggled out and proclaiming the class disparity in the fleet, calling for action. Once he understands the infringements that are taking place, the Chief instigates a fleet-wide workers’ strike.

Like “The Woman King”, “Dirty Hands” asks what measures should be taken in wartime to ensure stability and survival, one of Galactica’s frequent preoccupations and a natural outgrowth of its apocalyptic premise. But instead of a corny killer doctor and a wholly disbelieving majority, more realistic plotting and motivations can be found. Plus, it’s gloriously textured. One tremendous scene features Tyrol asking the imprisoned Baltar what he hopes to achieve, and while his conviction in his newfound revolutionary beliefs is still in question, his arguments about the divisions within the fleet are canny and unnerving, as if we as viewers have been putting up with the subjugation by happily following the exploits of Our Heroes. And Baltar and Roslin face off again as she orders him searched for pages from his book. In a season where certain characters have been sidelined or saddled with poor storylines, Callis has emerged as the crown jewel of the show. Sure, he has the meatiest material on the page, but he’s delivering it amazingly.

The downside to “Dirty Hands” is that in the script’s quest for moral relativism, Adama and Roslin are portrayed as far more extreme than we have come to expect. Although this can be justified by the central problem of the story – the desperate need for a functioning fleet – watching Roslin coldly reject the Chief’s concerns and, worst of all, Adama threatening to shoot Cally for mutiny if the strike is not averted, doesn’t ring true, even in their trying times. Sure, it all comes good at the end, but the balance is sadly not maintained, perhaps due to a desire for a tense climax.

Nonetheless, this is the kind of insight and timely subject matter that Galactica has drawn praise for yet has been largely absent since New Caprica. I’m now much more confident as we head into the final stretch. Bring on “Maelstrom”…

Friday Night Lights - Pilot

It’s a show about high school American football in small-town Texas. I cannot stand sport. And yet Friday Night Lights is indisputably one of the best shows on television.

I’ve just watched the pilot episode and am seriously impressed at the understatement and discernment on display. I’ve heard a lot about this low-rating but highly acclaimed show since its premiere last October. It’s the small-screen incarnation of the eponymous book that spawned the 2004 film with Billy Bob Thornton, and has been receiving raves for its critique of the role of sport in American culture and for intelligently addressing any number of social and family issues with a probing insight rare for network television.

The pilot can be a little dry and clearly needs some time to settle in and start packing an emotional punch, but its unassuming characterisation, natural dialogue, and dedication to realism mark this as an important show. In a TV drama landscape dominated by police procedurals, any show that breaks that mould and doesn’t feed us formulaic plotting and painfully obvious lines is one to keep an eye on. Plus, even though it’s about football, this is a show that anyone can draw something from. Speaking as someone utterly apathetic about playing or watching sport and who is openly critical of its prominence in Western society and our reverence of it, hopefully this generalising pronouncement actually means something.

The opening sequence immediately marks Friday Night Lights as a subtle and provocative enterprise. We are not expected to be adulatory of sport overall, let alone the high school leagues that provoke an astonishing passion in local communities. The quarterback is a hero, but we are meant to see this via the town’s unconditional respect for him, not because of a stereotype that we must subscribe to. Citizens on local radio and in person harangue the new coach (Kyle Chandler, showing great and promising restraint in the lead) with political intensity, believing him to be incapable of leading their beloved team to victory. And a dichotomy is already apparent between the socially accepted sports stars and those who question their Olympian status, such as, interestingly, the coach’s daughter (Aimee Teegarden). Yet the players themselves are divided too and exhibit nuance and complexity from the start; we sense that they may be tormented or altered by the expectations thrust upon them. We watch well-mannered and apparently decent star quarterback Jason Street (Scott Porter) being accosted by the mayor, who insists that he play meanly and viciously. The scene upends our preconceptions when the nice female mayor's praise of his affable qualities gives way to blunt criticism that these are weaknesses on the field that could cost them success. Dillon is evidently a town that finds its self-esteem in its renowned team, and the series will undoubtedly delve deeper into this destructive and fascinating community crisis of identity and purpose.

Friday Night Lights has been blessed with massive praise, with TV Guide’s reliable Matt Roush even comparing it to The Wire in its analysis of how a community functions (or doesn’t). While it’s too early for me to make such a call – and it would be a miracle if the confines of network television could ever yield a gem like that – Friday Night Lights’s texture and grace, of a kind rarely seen outside HBO, point to great things to come. Thankfully, the prestige that the show has brought NBC has secured FNL a full season, and a second has not been ruled out by commentators. Sure, I've only seen one episode, and Studio 60 managed to plummet from a stellar pilot into a miasma of failed potential, but the continuing applause for FNL 18 episodes in gives me hope. I can’t wait to see what it digs into.