Scott Fairley

I’m not really a fan of Jay Leno.  No sir.  While I recognize that he effectively needs fresh material 300 or so days per year, and I certainly respect his work ethic, he’s still my least favourite of the late-night hosts.  So when word spread that Conan O’Brien (my favourite of the late-night hosts) would be taking over The Tonight Show, I was most pleased.  But Leno didn’t go quietly into that good night.

Jay Leno has signed a deal with NBC that adds a fourth (yes, fourth) late-night talk show to their lineup, in the 10-11pm slot.  This was, as many have pointed out, the longtime home of the prodecural drama.  ER has spent 15 years in that timeslot on NBC, but that’s largely been all.  And with ER slowly circling the drain for one last season, and NBC struggling commercially, it makes sense on a number of levels.

For one thing, the budget of a talk show is exponentially lower than a prime-time drama.  Build one set.  Hire a band.  Done.  No expensive effects shots (like CSI), no expensive locations (like Lost) and no actors demanding seven figures per episode (like… well, nearly every show with a well-known cast).  While a talk show in that hour might not significantly increase ratings, it definitely offers more ratings for NBC’s money.

But does it really mark the end of the prime-time drama like many are saying?  Perhaps.  The elimination of the 10pm slot is relatively inconsequential.  Fox, who produce almost exclusively 1-hour dramas these days, have never had a 10pm slot, and they have some of the most expensive (and best rated) shows on TV.  House pretty much rules the ratings, and Bones has a good sized following in it’s own right.  24 is returning after a strike-induced hiatus.  When Fox shows fail, it’s generally spectacular, but when they get it right, their big shows are generally driven well past the point of shark-jumping as long as they draw ratings.

CBS have most of their biggest shows in the 10pm slot though, and they’ll probably see a big jump because of NBC’s move.  Two CSI spin-offs are in that time slot, and only one of them has serious competition, and it was never from NBC.  ABC is in an interesting position, however; Lost is really their only big drama, and due to it’s direction and structure, it’s incredibly unlikely to gain new viewers, but it’s proven very likely to lose them.  Not to mention that after 2010, Lost is finished.  ABC might heavily consider either moving Jimmy Kimmel to 10pm or adding a 10pm talk show, or they’ll take a chance on a new drama, but losing Lost really expands their options, and they may very well follow NBC’s lead.

But what NBC’s doing is much more interesting than “killing the prime-time drama”.  They’re merging it with the prime-time comedy, if anything.  Take a look at The Office.  Since Paul Feig started writing and directing the show more frequently, it’s taken a noticably darker turn.  Episodes like The Dinner Party and Moroccan Christmas are generally lighter on laughs and have some legitimately heavy drama.  And Chuck often resembles an hour-long single camera sitcom with bursts of action and (from time to time) legitimate drama.  Having seen the majority of their high-concept dramas fail, NBC aren’t simply cutting their losses.  They’re actually trying something new.  The great irony is that NBC gave the prototypical TV dramedy Freaks and Geeks the shaft in 2000, and Scrubs was straddling the line between comedy and drama a great deal in it’s earlier seasons (with a large dose of surrealism), but as it became more of a straight comedy, NBC became less interested in it.

So kudos to NBC.  Frankly, I’d rather they do more shows that go for quality storytelling with no regard to maintaining genre forms and be consistent within the rules of the show.  The hour-long drama and the half-hour sitcoms couldn’t maintain separate lives forever, and I for one welcome our new hybrid overlords.

Among the grim economic news these days, there’s one that’s of particular relevance to me.  I’ve heard numerous times that the entertainment industry is effectively recession-proof.  I’m not sure I fully agree with that, but then again, a $70 million opening for Twilight (and over $150 million to date) makes a compelling argument.  But there’s one area of the entertainment industry that’s failing:  Blu-ray.

This neither bothers nor surprises me, but it’s thrown a lot of people for a loop.  But regardless, I’d like to take a look at why DVD isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

In theory, Blu-ray should be selling like hotcakes.  Blu-ray players can be easily found for under $300.  HDTV’s are pretty much all that you can buy now, and they’re getting cheaper.  But even though the average new release Blu-ray is within $10 of new-release DVD’s, nobody’s really buying them.  Including myself.

There’s a few reasons why this is the case, and not all of them financial.  But financially, Blu-ray lacks the appeal of DVD.  For starters, if you want to upgrade from a CRT TV and DVD player to a Blu-ray and HDTV setup, that’s at least $600 right there.  And to make the higher resolution of the Blu-ray disc worthwhile, you’ll need to get a fairly large HDTV.  So now you’re looking at $1100 or more to make it worthwhile.  And even then, you’ll need to get some new movies that really benefit from the increased resolution, and those are $30 a pop new.  And since they now sell up-converting DVD players, existing DVD’s look better on an HDTV, with no added costs for movies.

So from a financial perspective, sticking with DVD, even with an upgraded TV, means more movies for less money and no significant upgrade in picture.  When VHS gave way to DVD, the upgrades were immediately noticable even on a smaller TV.  You really do need a home theatre to get the full effect of upgrading to Blu-ray, and the form factor (small discs vs. big bulky tapes) remains unchanged.

But I’m not an economist and I’m not interested in numbers.  The main thing keeping me from going Blu-ray is that there’s only a handful of movies I’d consider worth upgrading for, and as much as I loved The Dark Knight, I don’t feel that it’s worth a four-figure upgrade of my current entertainment system.  And I think it goes without saying at this point:  If you want to see the movie how it was intended, see it in a theatre.

I’ll get a Blu-ray player to match my HDTV someday, especially since there’s been a sharp rise in the number of movies shot digitally at the same resolution.  But even then, I doubt I’ll stop buying DVD’s, since a Blu-ray player can still play DVD’s, and only the most epic of movies really demand the high-definition treatment.  You see where I’m going with this?  Blu-ray just doesn’t seem like a practical upgrade across the board.  Yes, it’s got a higher resolution and clearer picture.  But does a movie like Garden State really need it?  Not really.

In a recent interview, Alan Moore had this to say about the state of modern cinema:

“I find film in its modern form to be quite bullying. . . It spoon-feeds us, which has the effect of watering down our collective cultural imagination. It is as if we are freshly hatched birds looking up with our mouths open waiting for Hollywood to feed us more regurgitated worms. The Watchmen film sounds like more regurgitated worms. I, for one, am sick of worms”

Well who isn’t sick of worms?  Any movie that insults the audience’s intelligence by not taking risks or watering things down shouldn’t be regarded in high esteem.  Granted, such things are subjective, but I think we can all agree on a list of movies that pander to the lowest common denominator rather than tell a story with any sense of purpose.  And a lot of modern movies do that.  Out of all the movies being made today, how many of them are truly great?  If you take a look at critics top-ten lists, there tends to be a hell of a lot of overlap.  Granted, I don’t want to watch exclusively great movies.  Movies are a lot like literature; sometimes you want something light to read on the train, sometimes you want something complex like Rushdie, and sometimes you want something in-between.  But I don’t think anyone wants something lousy in any of those categories.

What gives Alan Moore a unique insight into movies is that he doesn’t consider them to be the absolute pinnacle of storytelling, or at the very least, not the only valid means of telling a story.  Which brings us to the Watchmen movie.  It’s incredibly unlikely that Zack Snyder will completely undermine the story, themes, and impact of Watchmen.  But Moore didn’t write it for the screen.  There’s a reason Watchmen is so universally acclaimed.  It’s the only graphic novel on Time Magazine’s 100 best literary works of the 20th century.  It took the form to a new level.  And as far as it’s creator is concerned, that’s enough.  That story’s already been told.

Obviously, I’m not so naive to assume that Hollywood is interested in anything other than money.  There’s a good deal of sub-studios who are more than willing to take a chance on something creative and interesting (Focus features, Fox searchlight, Warner Independent, Paramount Vantage etc), but Hollywood as a whole just wants to make money.  I get it, but I’m not a fan of accounting, I’m a fan of movies.  So lets move on.  I know why they’ve made a Watchmen movie from a financial perspective, but I have no interest in discussing that.  I think it goes without saying that we all disagree with making movies for the money alone.

And related issues about why Moore doesn’t have any sort of legal ability to say whether or not his works are adapted to the screen also put aside, when he told Terry Gilliam that Watchmen shouldn’t be adapted to the screen, creative types in Hollywood maybe should have listened.  Gilliam’s a smart guy, and an incredibly capable filmmaker.  He was interested in a Watchmen adaptation, certainly had the ability and intuition to pull it off, and when he asked Moore for tips, he was told “don’t do it”.  And he didn’t.

I think the issue of medium should come into play in this debate.  A lot of the best filmmakers actively pursue making the medium of film bigger and better than it really is.  Martin Scorsese, James Cameron, and George Lucas (circa 1977, anyway) have all more or less invented new ways of shooting scenes.  Orson Welles more or less rewrote the book on filmmaking, adding a scope never before seen and still yet to be matched (if the AFI top 100 is to be believed).  Alan Moore did that for the graphic novel.  So in theory, Zack Snyder’s Watchmen should do the same, shouldn’t it?

Snyder’s in both a dream and nightmare come true.  He’s a genre filmmaker with a huge budget and one of the most complex and ambitious texts ever written to work with.  If he stays too close to the source, he’ll be criticized as a hack who’s too weak to put his own mark on it.  If he strays too far from it, he’ll get tagged as an egomaniac who thinks he can outdo Moore.  Either way, pressure on him is enormous, and he knows he can’t just approach it like a director would approach any other movie.

This isn’t to say I have zero interest in the Watchmen movie.  I’m, if nothing else, curious how it translates from page to screen.  And I wrote this article.  But I think adaptations are in many cases superfluous.  I doubt many would argue that point.  A lot of the best movies I’ve seen are adaptations of some kind.  The Dark Knight is based on previously established characters (both onscreen and on comic pages) and inspired by comics and graphic novels (one of which was written by Alan Moore, if I recall correctly).  But all the same, they often take a new spin on it.  If 300 is any indication, it will largely be a carbon copy.  Unless Snyder takes some risks (and given the material here, that could be either a brilliant move or career suicide), he’ll be doing what Moore hates most in movies:  playing it safe.

Though there are exceptions, films with inescapable political content are generally kept in the realm of the documentary.  There’s a number of reasons for this, or at least a number of reasons why I think this is.  First and foremost, movies are generally escapist by nature.  Even films that are heavy on realism are escapist.  Something about how the characters are written, portrayed, or how the story is told makes it more than just re-enactments.  Exceptions to this are generally fairly limited.  Unless you’re looking at the collective filmography of Steven Soderberg and Oliver Stone.

This fall presents what could prove to be a very interesting compare/contrast in political film-making.  By the numbers, it looks less interesting though.  On September 9th, Steven Soderberg’s 268 minute, all-spanish epic Che (presented in two parts; The Argentine and Guerrilla for those without iron bladders or attention spans) gets it’s North American premiere (it officially premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in May) at the Toronto International Film Festival.  And then on October 17th, Oliver Stone’s W is set to be released, mere months after shooting began this May.  Stone promises it to be similar in tone to The Queen (which is a remarkable film in nearly every respect, but particularly it’s reverence), but based on promotional material, appears to look quite irreverent.  Here’s some more numbers for you:  W will be released roughly 3 months before George W. Bush leaves office; Che was released 41 years after Che Guevara’s death.

Biopics are old hat to both Soderberg and Stone though.  Soderberg directed Julia Roberts to an Academy Award in Erin Brokovich, and W will be Stone’s sixth biopic, as well as his second on a President of the United States.  Politically-themed films are also familiar territory for both.  Soderberg’s touched on political issues in Traffic, which explored nearly every aspect of the war on drugs over a 147-minute running time.  His HBO series K-Street, co-produced with George Clooney, explored the political landscape leading up to the 2004 Election.  As for Stone’s political films, it might be easier to just list them:

• Salvador – dealt with the El Salvador civil war and US involvement therein
• Platoon – dealt with the Vietnam war, won Best Picture in 1986
• Wall Street – one character’s philosophy is “greed is good”.  You do the math
• Talk Radio – about a controversial radio host
• Born on the Fourth of July – biopic about maimed Vietnam Veteran Ron Kovic
• JFK – arguably Stone’s most controversial work, famously explored conspiracy theories about John F. Kennedy’s assassination
• Heaven & Earth – another Vietnam war centric film, this time from the perspective of a young woman caught in the crossfire
• Natural Born Killers – dealing with media reaction to violent crime.  The film arguably inspired copycat crimes, despite it being intended as a criticism of the media more than a glorification of violence.  Again, arguably Stone’s most controversial work
• Nixon – take a wild guess

Interestingly, World Trade Center his biopic about two fallen NYFD workers on 9/11 had little to no political content and was praised for it’s reverence.  In short, it would be more surprising if Oliver Stone didn’t make a movie about George W. Bush.  The surprising, and frankly disappointing thing about W is how soon it’s come to pass.  Too soon.

That’s a major problem with Stone’s effort, something that just can’t be avoided.  It also undermines his declared intentions.  It’s incredibly difficult to properly explore the legacy of a major political figure on film.  Stone’s own Nixon was made after Richard Nixon’s death in 1994, and over 20 years after Nixon resigned the presidency.  Long enough after the fact to properly assess his legacy?  I’d say so.  Steven Soderberg’s Che also comes fairly long after the events it depicts.  It even comes around a decade after the American commercialization of Che Guevera, largely thanks to Rage Against The Machine.  Che Guevera has come a long way since the overthrow of Cuba’s regime in the 1950’s.  Having spent some time in Latin America, it goes without saying that Che is beyond iconic at this point.  Soderberg is wise to take four hours to tell his story, as is Hollywood for leaving previous perspectives on Guevara to documentary filmmakers.

The main thing about W that bothers me is that it’s release comes not just before Bush has retired from public life, but before he’s even retired from the executive office.  Quite frankly, any attempt to be reverent is damaged by this.  While The Queen was released at a time when both Tony Blair and Queen Elizabeth II were both in power (Blair would resign his post shortly after), the events it details happened nearly a decade beforehand, and the action was confined to roughly a week in history.  That tragic chapter of British history has closed.  Bush’s story as president, let alone as public figure, remain unfinished.  Stone’s film, (which as I understand, goes as far into his presidency as the invasion of Iraq) tells an incomplete story no matter how you slice it.

Since I haven’t seen either film, my criticism of W shouldn’t be taken as anything other than theoretical.  As easy as it might be to dismiss Oliver Stone as a zeitgeist chaser and opinion-peddler, it’s difficult to dismiss him as a filmmaker.  He’s earned two Best Director Oscars (that’s two more than Stanley Kubrick and double Martin Scorcese’s count).  His films have been nominated for Best Picture three times, and won once.  He might be controversial, but a hack?  Absolutely not.  He’s a shit disturber, but he’s an incredible talent.

Likewise, Che might be too overblown for it’s own good.  While I absolutely believe that Che Guevara’s story essentially demands a 4-hour, 8 minute run time, there’s a good chance that Soderberg’s ego will overtake the project, or it’ll be a 4 hour marxist propaganda piece.  The latter seems unlikely, as Che has been called both “not only an intellectual but also the most complete human being of our age” and “the butcher of La Cabana”.

So there you have it.  Two hot-button figures approached by two well-respected directors in familiar territory.  Very different approaches, but hopefully two films that will raise questions about the legacy of the most polarizing American President I can think of, and perhaps one of the most complex figures of the 20th centuries.

In the meantime, I’d recommend the documentary The True Story of Che Guevara, produced by the History Channel in the US.  It’s only 90 minutes, but covers a great deal of territory and demonstrates how complex Che’s legacy really is.  And The Queen just because it’s fantastic.  It’s been roughly a year since I’ve seen it, but it’s easily an A or A+, and Michael Sheen’s performance very nearly overtakes Helen Mirren’s.

If I remember anything from Ray Louter – one of my theatre professors and my primary acting and playwrighting instructor – has ever told me, it’s this:  Raise the stakes.  Storytelling is most interesting when there’s something that hangs in the balance.  Something including and in between embarrassment and death.  Anything.  It’s made me a better actor, a better writer, and a better director.  Believe me when I say that while I may forget the bulk of my education, I could never forget this.

Unfortunately for Jenji Kohan, she appears to have done so with her show Weeds.  You know the pitch:  suburban mom turns to pot dealing after the untimely death of her husband.  Hilarity ensues.  And for three seasons, it was one of my favourite shows.  Mary-Louise Parker is terrific as Nancy Botwin, who balances less-than-legal entrepreneurship with single parenthood.  It was the kind of show that could switch from high drama to low comedy in the same scene without missing a beat.  The supporting cast, including Justin Kirk as her brother in-law Andy and Kevin Nealon as disgraced accountant Doug Wilson, meshed in such a way that it was rarely, if ever, a dull show.  The third season stands out particularly, as it began with a mexican stand-off and somehow managed to never lose steam until it’s finale saw Nancy and her family literally rising from the ashes to fight another day.

Season 4 saw many changes.  Major characters like Conrad Shepard were gone.  Most of the background players didn’t follow the Botwins to the border town of Ren-Mar.  Neither did a good chunk of what made the show great.  The stakes, raised close to the highest they could be given the circumstances, are now worse than low.  They’re unclear.

That’s been my major beef with Weeds this season.  It’s still a well-written, well-acted show.  But great dialogue and actors to make that dialogue great will only get you so far.  Despite the sheer volume of illegal activities taking place (up to and including human smuggling, as well as the usual drug rackets), I have yet to care what happens to Nancy and company next.  Because while I know what’s theoretically at stake (jail, Silas and Shane homeless, etc), I’m not convinced the characters do.  I don’t live in their world.  Their world is defined by many things, but only the things expressed onscreen.  The threat of Nancy getting caught is long gone, as is so much as a reference or two per episode of her vocation.  And with few circumstances remaining constant from episode to episode, it’s simply too unclear what’s at stake.  I rarely have a sense of what their worst-case-scenario is.  And when I do (and when it comes to pass), it resolves itself with little to no consequence.  So as such, my level of empathy is dropping.  Andy and Doug have been smuggling immigrants across the US-Mexico border for much of the season, but it seems as though Doug not getting laid is their worst case scenario.

For a show that’s fundamentally about criminals, it’s alarming how little risk seems to be present.

I don’t want to discount Weeds entirely though.   It’s made me laugh out loud, gasp, and have difficulty waiting a week to see the next episode over.  It’s a show I’ve spent whole days marathoning DVD box sets with.  It’s made an Olsen twin not just watchable, but interesting.  Weeds is an A+ show having a C- season though.  Eleven of Thirteen episodes down, and I’m still waiting for so much as a return to form, let alone something that raises the bar.  While I can understand that the show needed to establish a new order (new location, new characters etc), it’s been handled in such a way that it’ll take an incredibly strong season finale to keep me around for a fifth season.  But for now, I’ll be waiting for a season finale that’ll make this post redundant.  If there’s anything Weeds does absolutely right, it’s those.