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Watch AMC's "Rubicon" -- And Watch It CLOSELY!
July 30, 2010 1:30 PM
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Since AMC got into the one-hour drama series business, it's made one masterpiece after another. One was Mad Men, the other was Breaking Bad, and both are still on the air. Starting Sunday night at 8 ET, they're joined by a third new series, a modern-day spy thriller called Rubicon. Is it another TV triumph? Too early to tell. A TV show that should be watched? Most definitely... and very, very closely.
Rubicon is the story about spies at an American agency that takes all the information gathered by other agencies and tries to make sense of if all. The central characters in this drama are uber-geeks -- the kind of spies who read books on string theory during their off hours, and find hidden meanings in the replication of clues in independently published crossword puzzles.
I've seen the first four hours of Rubicon, which was created by Jason Horwitch and is executive produced by Henry Bromell. (Bromell has a career's worth of impressive TV credits, including Homicide: Life on the Street, Chicago Hope and I'll Fly Away.)
Two of those hours are shown Sunday from 8-10 p.m. ET -- and by the time they're over, you'll get a feel for the show and its aims. It's a conspiracy-paranoia brain twister -- a drama that, as its creators freely admit, was inspired by, and intended to evoke, such vintage conspiracy movie thrillers as All the President's Men, Three Days of the Condor (left) and The Parallax View.
Those are three of my favorite films from that era, and Rubicon evokes the same "trust no one" feeling nicely. The most notable difference is the pace: After four hours, I'm still not sure where Rubicon is going, much less whether the destination will be worthwhile. But it's a show that keeps you thinking, and guessing -- and one that demands your full attention as well as a hearty supply of patience.
I can't say this clearly enough: You cannot watch Rubicon casually and expect to follow it, much less enjoy it.
Unlike so much of what passes for TV drama these days, it is not a show that rewards or tolerates multi-tasking. Watch Rubicon, and watch it attentively -- or don't bother watching it at all.
Otherwise, if you're doing the bills, or the dishes, or reading the paper (hah: like that still happens!), you'll miss too much.
Like, for example, the four-leaf clover that pops up as a menacing, unexplained harbinger of doom. Or the number "13" that pops up not only as an important numbered spot in a parking lot (see photo at top of column), but as the very first word spoken in this series, yelled as part of a hide-and-go-seek countdown as a young boy runs in the snow.
Rubicon stars James Badge Dale, who played Leckie on HBO's The Pacific, as Will Travers, the string-theory-reading loner at the New York-based intelligence analysis agency, innocuously named the American Policy Institute. His boss, the only person at API to whom he relates, is David Hadas, played by wonderful character actor Peter Gerety. Early on, Will takes his puzzling crossword-puzzle discovery to David, which sets a whole round of even more mysterious moves and counter-moves into action.
But action, really, may be too strong a word. Rubicon, at least in the first four hours, is more obsessed with mood than with mayhem. Characters count more than carnage. To find the closest equivalent in a previous TV spy drama, you have to go all the way back to that classic Alec Guinness vehicle, the imported 1979 miniseries brilliantly dramatizing John Le Carre's Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.
Time, and future episodes, will tell whether Rubicon earns that comparison more fully -- and deserves the heaps of praise duly bestowed upon Mad Men and Breaking Bad, rather than the equally duly bestowed disappointment heaped upon AMC's misfire of a miniseries remake of another classic paranoia spy drama, The Prisoner.
Rubicon is a big risk for AMC, because many viewers will give up on it early because too little is explained or resolved. (Running the first two hours as a double-header is a clever move.) But Rubicon, also, is a smart risk, and a smart show -- AMC, right now, is as interested in building reputation as viewership. And Rubicon, when the jigsaw puzzle is more complete, may well turn out to be another key piece.
If you can't wait until Sunday night, AMC, which already has sneak previewed episode one a few times on its own network (after the season finale of Breaking Bad and the season premiere of Mad Men), is making the first hour available immediately on its website. Watch, if you wish, by clicking HERE.
And while I'm offering links to elsewhere, here's a link to audio and text of my radio review of Rubicon for NPR's Fresh Air with Terry Gross, which ran Wednesday. Read that, and listen, by clicking HERE. (Or, if you're listening to Fresh Air Weekend this weekend, the review is being repeated there, too. Check, as they say, your local listings.)
Either way, please return with your reactions once you've seen an hour, or two, or four, or more. The TV WORTH WATCHING readership is PRECISELY the target audience for Rubicon -- so I'm interested in whether these guys have hit their mark. And, no doubt, so are they...
GUEST BLOG #109: Diane Holloway Takes a First Look at the New Fall Series -- Without Looking
July 29, 2010 7:30 AM
[Bianculli here: Just for fun, contributing critic Diane Holloway goes public with a game she's played privately for years: making first impressions of the new fall series before she's previewed them. Read her initial judgments, and register your own...]
First, Incomplete Impressions of the
2010-2011 Fall TV Crop
By Diane Holloway
When I was a real TV critic for a real daily newspaper (Austin American-Statesman), I used to play a game with myself before reviewing new series. When the networks announced their fall schedules in May, I would go through the descriptions in the press releases and try to predict the good and the bad.
As you might imagine, this is risky business, which is why I played this game in private. In 2008, I remember reading FX's description of Sons of Anarchy and laughing out loud. Seriously? A drama about a motorcycle gang? After I watched the pilot, I realized my pre-judgment had been horribly wrong. Sons of Anarchy is a fabulously gritty drama with remarkable acting and better-than-average scripts. I've been hooked on it for two seasons, and I'm looking forward to the third season in September.
Of course there were also more than a few times when I expected great things from a show, based on behind-the-scenes creators or a lead actor, only to be horrified by the finished product. I really wanted CBS's 1995 drama New York News to be good - newspaper setting, distinguished cast that included Joe Morton, Madeline Kahn, Mary Tyler Moore (as the hard-ass editor) and hunky Gregory Harrison. What could go wrong? Plenty. It was awful, and it died in eight weeks.
As I'm trying to convince myself to begin the 2010 marathon, I've been perusing the descriptions and possibilities. After I've actually seen the shows, I promise I will return with a report of my first-impression track record. (PS: For this initial tasting, I'm skipping some shows and all of the CW, so that you will not fall asleep before the end.)
ABC
On ABC's roster, Body of Proof and Detroit 1-8-7 sound promising to me. In Body, Dana Delany (left), whom I've loved since China Beach, plays a neurosurgeon turned medical examiner. Maybe? Detroit, a Motor City-set cop drama starring Michael Imperioli, seems likely to indulge my love of shows with a sense of place... and my embarrassing fixation with murder and mayhem.
Michael Chiklis' decision to leap from the Shakespearean character Vic Mackey on The Shield to a father with superpowers on No Ordinary Family (seen here with costar Julie Benz) makes my skin crawl. And as much as I would like Austin's own Mehcad Brooks to land in a hit (especially one set and filmed in Austin), My Generation, about a group of high-school grads a decade later, sounds dreadful. Hope I'm wrong.
CBS
Over at top-rated CBS, the remakes of Hawaii Five-O (seen in the photo at the top of this column) and The Defenders both look like losers.
For geezers like me, who remember the distinguished original Defenders, starring E.G. Marshall and Robert Reed, the comic update with Jim Belushi and Jerry O'Connell (seen at right) sounds obscene. The original broke ground with socially relevant cases; the remake looks headed for bathroom humor and Vegas showgirls. The two most talked-about comedies, $#*! My Dad Says and the fat-joke-laden Mike & Molly, possibly don't deserve to be previewed. I might skip those.
But CBS's Blue Bloods, the multi-generational cop drama starring Tom Selleck and Donnie Wahlberg, looks and sounds surprisingly good. Maybe somebody just did a nice job with the on-air clips, but it looks awfully good to me.
NBC
The limping NBC Peacock has been crowing about J.J. Abrams' new romantic spy drama Undercovers, shown at left, for months, but the preview clips totally creep me out. Is this supposed to be TV's version of Mr. & Mrs. Smith? I predict disappointment and disaster. Chase looks like an excuse to watch Kelli Giddish run around in tight pants, leaving all of us to wonder just how many Jerry Bruckheimer shows we can possibly stand. For those who liked Lost (that's not me, folks), The Event likely will appeal. Love Bites seems destined to succumb to the long-running trend of failed anthology series.
As a long-time fan of Dick Wolf's Law & Order franchise, I'm anxious to see Skeet Ulrich in NBC's new Los Angeles-based spinoff. And the network's Outlaw just might be able to overcome the ridiculous plot notion of a Supreme Court justice stepping down to fight injustice in the system. If that happens, it will be thanks to the appeal of Jimmy Smits. But that's a big maybe.
FOX
Finally, Fox has nothing whatsoever on its news schedule that sounds promising, including, shown at left, the Texas-based sudser Lone Star. Raising Hope and Running Wilde may turn out to be good sitcoms paired with Glee, but I'm not hopeful about either. In fact, I may skip sitcoms this season.
So, sight unseen, that's how I see it. I'll let you know how my intuition holds up. And yes, I skipped the CW because that is my prerogative as an ex-newspaper critic. I've suffered through too many CW shows in the past to do that again.
[Have your own thoughts about which shows look enticing or excruciating, based on their press descriptions and on-air previews? Let Diane know... We're all in this together. -- David B.]
GUEST BLOG #108: Eric Gould Takes on Video Bad Gurls: Miley, Christina, Katy
July 27, 2010 8:45 AM
[Bianculli here: Once architect Eric Gould, our website designer, began writing TV reviews for us, there's been no stopping him. So after he pondered the artistic messages, or lack of them, in the newest Lady Gaga video, I dared him to analyze another trio of current "video vixen" samples, and assigned him specific examples on this very website. Well, he's not only answered the challenge - but, amid all the feathers and whipped cream and diamonds and chains, he's found some common themes...]
Acting Out, and Playing Dress-Up: Trapped in the Identity of an Ever-Changing Identity
By Eric Gould
Dearest TV Worth Watching Readers:
Since I (unintentionally) opened the Pandora's Box topic of the female psyche in current music videos two weeks ago, out sprang the multi-headed Hydra of Miley Cyrus, Christina Aguilera and Katy Perry. Our Fearless Leader of this website, and my long-time mentor, had clearly lost part of his towering mind -- the Smothers Brothers book having taking such a toll on him, he threw these women onto my lap for some kind of understanding and critique.
Not that I ever shrank from a tough project, but this time I considered it. How we arrived at the utmost authority of the female sexual psyche, a middle-aged Jewish man, I'm still trying to absorb.
Here's what I saw: Christina as The Dominatrix, the diamond-gagged Submissive, 70's Disco Chick, Bi-Curious Tourist, and Group Sex Partner.
We had Miley, gone all Tina Turner trapped in Thunderdome, snarling her way out with dance partners writhing behind her.
Finally, there was Katy's supposed sexual ingenue (once as a Girl Scout with a thinly disguised phallus cookie), in multi-flavored Barbie wigs, her dance troupe dolled up as a box of candy-coated confections with creme-puff brassieres, with cherries topped as the nipples.
Oh, yes, and there was a monocle in there somewhere, too.
Such is the state of video culture in the 21st century: nanosecond bursts of id-borne images that are designed to penetrate, divert, and sell.
My recent look at the Lady Gaga video "Alejandro," by comparison, was easy pickings -- dumb, political misappropriations of kick-turning storm troopers and all.
Like a ball of snarled Christmas lights, the human sexual psyche has been unraveled by better than I. But when Miley spreads her black raven wings (at top above), well, yes, I get it. Don't even go there.
My general impulse is to slog the whole thing off as Art Directors Gone Wild. (And perhaps the artists themselves, too, including Miley's mom and Billy Ray, trying to one-up the other star, with no particular message other than "watch out, folks, she can be a sexy brat, too." )
But maybe there's more than just style. Artists, video artists in particular, rightly feel they have about three seconds to get through and separate themselves from the herd. In media culture, if you're not fresh, you're over. Understandably, drastic measures are needed.
So, like millions of teenagers standing in front of their closets on date night -- the question becomes, who do you want to be tonight? Good "Gurl"? Bad "Gurl"? Or, better, both, and keep them guessing? It's just not that hard to hit a large part of the demographic you're after with your choice, and the dollars will roll in until the Next Big Thing. Which should be along in about five minutes.
My only nagging suspicion here is that artists who slave to the quick-change routine won't have that many bullets in the barrel -- or, in Katy's case, whipped cream in the can -- to maintain a run as long as David Bowie or Madonna did, always seemingly one step ahead of their fans and the press.
Of course, back in the dark ages of the '80s and '90s, there were only a few video channels, and no Internet, so constant reinvention wasn't nearly as difficult -- or as crucial -- as it is now. It also occurs to me that The Chameleon isn't always the most healthy choice for a young woman's identity.
Aguilera, who hardly needs more in her bag of tricks beyond her remarkable, endlessly riffing voice, seems never to tire of playing the vamp and the femme fatale. It's still true in her latest, "Not Myself Tonight." (Boy, is she ever not.)
She -- like Cyrus, Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears and others -- is a Disney product, and seems to be determined to pay back Mickey and the gang with bad behavior ever since. Perhaps it illustrates how confining management and handlers can be for young stars: once they become adults, there's nothing left to do but show 'em who you really are... a grinding, angry, sexual connoisseur with a vinyl Oreo for a hat.
Wasn't it just 2009 when we had Miley, a symbol of youthful wholesomeness, tinged with a cute rocker's edge? No more.
Perhaps last year's movie, Hannah Montana: Best of Both Worlds didn't mean so much that there was a Miley behind Hannah Montana, but that Hannah was pretty much a dull bore, and there was a raven-winged archangel inside, with pretty wicked eye make-up, in the wings. And with them.
The true poster child of all this is Perry -- a former gospel singer, raised strictly in a Christian tradition -- who has charmed all of us with her irreverence.
With "California Gurls," she's maybe set the height of the current backlash bar. There's no snarl, no sneer, no platinum blond pelvic assault. Instead, she projects bubbly, gum-snapping winks, while virtually naked on a cloud of cotton candy and shooting whipped cream.
Perhaps here we're now well into the "sex-positive" sub-genre of feminism, where sex is naughty play, fun, out in the open. I'd say that's an improvement over where we were when I was young, and it was hidden, and you were left to your own bad, first impressions of it for life. Blessings to those who can teach their children such things in the electronic cultural minefield in which we now live.
I am pretty sure, though, it's probably better not left up to those such as Snoop Dogg: Grandmaster Pimp of Candyland, former Internet pornographer himself, and current co-star of Perry's video, whose main contribution to the piece is rhyming "bikini, zucchini, martini." (Honestly, I wept.)
After all, we know full well the target audience for MTV, and I am pretty certain it ain't the gray hairs here at TV Worth Watching.
Personally (guilty pleasure here), in the end, I find the dedicated rocker girls like Avril Lavigne and Pink -- both remarkable vocal talents -- more interesting to watch and having more lasting power. Yes, they get into sketchy territory, but that's not the sole focus of their shows, or their personas.
But hey, Gurls, by all means, make hay while the sun is shining. Who among us, given the opportunity, would not?
We just have to realize that the particular package we're buying -- The Madonna, or The Whore -- is pretty much the same thing. They're both crafted PR products to achieve the best cash flow possible. It's not necessarily art or poetry. But it does sell, and make the marketplace go round.
Oh, and the monocle? A meta-reversal of the artist watching us, perhaps?
GUEST BLOG #107: Eric Mink Remembers, and Offers an Appreciation of, Veteran Newsman Daniel Schorr
July 26, 2010 8:00 AM
[Bianculli here: Contributing critic Eric Mink has weighed in with a wonderful piece on Daniel Schorr, who died Friday. Here it is:]
Daniel Schorr: 'Noodge' of the Highest Order
By Eric Mink
There's a great Yiddish word for Dan Schorr: noodge.
Either a noun or a verb depending on context, the word describes both a kind of conduct and the kind of person who engages in the conduct. The most apt definition I found for "to noodge" is "to annoy with persistent complaining, asking, urging, etc." You can quibble about style, but I'd argue that great reporters have a lot of noodge in them.
Schorr was a noodge of the highest order.
Early in his career, Schorr's reporting annoyed President Dwight D. Eisenhower, irritated President John F. Kennedy and got him kicked out of the Soviet Union by Premier Nikita Khruschev. Schorr was such a noodge questioning East German Communist dictator Walter Ulbricht that Ulbricht broke off the interview and stormed out of the room, leaving Schorr facing an empty chair.
Much later in his career, Schorr took a stand on principle that vexed and perplexed Ted Turner, the television visionary who had hired Schorr in 1979 to be the first employee of what was to become the nation's first 24-hour news channel: CNN.
But newsman Daniel Schorr, who died July 23 at age 93, really got to U.S. President Richard M. Nixon. And Nixon's inability to manage his anger helped bring down his presidency.
In 1971, Nixon sicced the FBI and the IRS on Schorr after he broadcast reports for CBS News on Nixon's failure to fulfill a pledge to assist Catholic schools.
"You take a fellow like this Dan Schorr," Nixon complained on Sept. 18, 1971, to chief of staff H.R. Haldeman in a tape recorded Oval Office conversation transcribed by the University of Virginia. "He is always creating something, isn't he?"
Haldeman replied, "You don't, shouldn't get involved in this, but he's on our tax list, too."
"Good," Nixon said. "Pound these people."
Later in the conversation, Nixon and Haldeman discussed a trumped-up FBI investigation of Schorr and prepared a phony cover story about Schorr being considered for a federal appointment.
The second article of impeachment adopted by the House Committee on the Judiciary on July 27, 1974, charged Nixon with abusing his authority over government agencies by targeting certain U.S. citizens for illegal investigations. Schorr was one of those cited in the record. Thirteen days later, Nixon slinked off into history as the only American president ever to resign from office.
In a piece about Schorr for The Nation last week, John Nichols wrote that "Schorr's unofficial beat was always the abuse of power," which gets it just right.
But on one glaring occasion, Schorr's single-minded, hard-headed dedication to that mission brought him grief not only from the powerful but also from some of his own colleagues.
In the summer of 1975, Schorr was on the intelligence beat for CBS News, pursuing stories of abuses by the CIA, FBI and other agencies. Simultaneous investigations by special committees in the House and Senate were uncovering a long and sordid record of illegal activity at home and abroad.
The House committee, chaired by New York Democrat Otis Pike, completed its investigation and voted to publish its findings with sensitive national security information deleted. But under pressure from then-President Gerald Ford, the full House voted to keep even the edited version of the committee's report secret.
Schorr got a copy of the report from a trusted source and began filing on-air reports about its contents. But CBS executives would not agree to supplement its broadcast reporting with print publication of the complete document. Without CBS' approval or knowledge -- and fearing that the full report might never see the light of day -- Schorr secretly gave the report to the Village Voice. The Voice published it on Feb. 16, 1976, as a 24-page supplement with the front-page headline, "The report on the CIA that President Ford doesn't want you to read."
It was a bombshell, and CBS executives were not happy.
Schorr recounted the aftermath in a 90th-birthday interview with NPR's Robert Siegel in 2006. The day the Voice hit the stands, Schorr said he was called into the office of Sanford Socolow, then the Washington bureau chief of CBS News, and asked what he knew about the Voice's publication. Schorr said he ducked the question.
Then, according to Schorr, Socolow noted that Lesley Stahl, then a CBS White House reporter, was dating Aaron Latham, a writer for New York magazine. New York magazine and the Village Voice were both owned by editor/publisher Clay Felker. Socolow asked Schorr if he thought there might be a connection between Stahl's romantic relationship and the Voice's publication of the Pike report.
As Schorr described it on NPR, "I said, 'Ummm. Who knows?' I allowed him to entertain that thought for one day. The next day ... I went into Sandy Socolow's office and said, 'Forget what I said yesterday. Stop looking for who it was.'"
Stahl's account is radically different. In Reporting Live, the memoir she published in 2000, Stahl quotes by name CBS News executives who said Schorr told them he believed Stahl had taken the report from his desk and leaked it to the Voice. She points out that the Washington Post identified Schorr as the leaker before Schorr says he told Socolow. And she says that Socolow called Schorr a liar.
The House ethics committee investigated the leak and called Schorr to testify. He refused to say who gave him the report, and the committee eventually declined to cite Schorr for contempt.
With the legal situation resolved, Schorr sat for a 60 Minutes interview with Mike Wallace in which he denied implicating Stahl. The next day he resigned from CBS, and according to Stahl, she got his office. Her memoir describes a phone call from Schorr several weeks later as a half-hearted and not very convincing apology.
Twenty years later, the rift was still raw.
On January 25, 1996, I sat in the front row at Low Library on the campus of Columbia University as Schorr accepted the duPont-Columbia Gold Baton for "exceptional lifetime contributions to radio and television reporting and commentary." I was a member of the seven-person jury that had given Schorr the Gold Baton, awarded only in those years when we believed there was a worthy candidate.
Schorr's official National Public Radio biography, which Schorr undoubtedly reviewed and approved, gives the Gold Baton the greatest prominence among his many awards, saying "[it] is the most prestigious award in the field of broadcasting and is considered the equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize."
The host of the awards that year was Ted Koppel, then the anchor and managing editor of ABC News' Nightline.
As the ceremonies drew near, I thought Schorr's award would have special resonance that night, considering that at least two of the Silver Baton honors that year were going to programs on issues Schorr had covered himself with distinction: The Discovery Channel's Watergate, a five-hour documentary (also narrated by Schorr); and PBS' America's War on Poverty, a five-hour documentary by Blackside Productions, and a story Schorr had covered when he returned from his European posting for CBS in the mid-1960s.
In accordance with long-standing tradition, Columbia's president at the time, George Rupp, would present the Gold Baton. The scheduled Silver Baton presenters had been announced a month earlier: Koppel of ABC; Schorr, by then 11 years into his 25-year run at NPR; Tim Russert of NBC; Ralph Begleiter of CNN' PBS's Charlie Rose; and, representing CBS News, Lesley Stahl.
On January 24, one day before the awards ceremony, Stahl cancelled.
--
Eric Mink most recently was the Op-Ed editor and columnist for the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. He previously covered television and media for the St Louis Post-Dispatch and the New York Daily News. He now teaches film as an adjunct assistant professor at Webster University in St. Louis.
AMC's "Mad Men" Returns, Starting with Four Brilliantly Weighted Words
July 23, 2010 9:30 AM
Sunday's season premiere of AMC's period drama series Mad Men begins with Jon Hamm's Don Draper being interviewed by a reporter for a trade journal, who asks Don an innocuous puffball question as preparation of a profile about the successful advertising-agency executive. But because of what we know about Don's past -- and what most people around him DON'T know -- that puffball turns into a potential hand grenade.
The question the reporter asks, to begin season four of Mad Men, is this:
"Who is Don Draper?"
Brilliant.
The quizzical look on Hamm's face (at top above), reflecting the slightest nervousness about what may or may not be coming next, says it all, while Don himself, at first, says nothing.
Series creator Matthew Weiner wrote the opening episode, and his opener to that opener couldn't be more on point, more tantalizing, or more inviting to multiple interpretation.
On one level, Don Draper is the name of the dead Korean War soldier whose identity Dick Whitman stole on the battlefield -- a secret that Dick, now the Don of Madison Avenue, does not want to be discovered (even though two of the people who know that secret continue to work with him at the new agency).
But on a deeper level, "Who is Don Draper?" is a question Don has to confront the entire episode, and presumably the season, even if he can dodge it when posed by a friendly reporter. It's like a nesting doll of meanings within meanings. Who is Don to his colleagues? To the image-obsessed world of New York advertising? To the family that once signified success, but now is torn apart? And finally, who is Don Draper to himself?
After reinventing himself AS Don Draper, now he has to reinvent Don, too. And while I'll reveal nothing about when this new season takes place, what happens or where it begins to lead, I will say this: The first episode is bookended by Don being interviewed with reporters, and the difference between the two signifies the beginnings of a new answer to the question posed at the start.
Who is Don Draper? Like Mad Men, he's a work in progress -- always moving, always changing, always smarter and slicker than most of what surrounds him. And, also like Mad Men, he's fascinating to watch.
(You can hear my NPR Fresh Air with Terry Gross report on Mad Men and other summer TV treats, which was broadcast Thursday, by clicking HERE. Mad Men returns Sunday night at 10 ET on AMC.)
Burt Reynolds Should Be a Recurring Character on USA's "Burn Notice"
July 22, 2010 8:47 AM
Thursday night at 9 ET on USA's Burn Notice, Burt Reynolds guest stars as a retired spy targeted by a Russian hit squad. Michael and his crew come to the rescue -- in a crisp TV "buddy movie" so delightful, it all but demands a string of sequels...
Reynolds plays Paul, a former spy whose drunken posting on the Internet catches the eye, and sparks the ire, of a Russian special ops team, who descend upon Miami determined to find Paul, and kill him. At first, Jeffrey Donovan's Michael Westen presumes the Russians are coming for him -- but when he IDs the true target, he and his team decide to intercept the hit men, and save the old man.
The old man, meanwhile, loves the action: breaking into a safe, being chased by bad guys, drawing a gun again. He has two settings: grumpy old-timer and wide-eyed overgrown kid. Reynolds, of course, is great at playing both.
It's not surprising, but it is gratifying, to see Reynolds exude so much ease and comfort acting for television. After all, he started there -- and not just in the title role in 1970's Dan August, before attaining movie stardom in Deliverance and Smokey and the Bandit.
Burt Reynolds began his acting career on television more than 50 years ago, playing a one-episode role on M Squad in 1959. He co-starred as Ben Frazer for a season on Riverboat, opposite Darren McGavin (pictured) that same year, Reynolds' first recurring role. For the next decade, appeared on an exhaustively long list of still-familiar TV shows, including Playhouse 90, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Naked City, Route 66, Perry Mason, The Twilight Zone, Gunsmoke, Branded, Flipper, 12 O'Clock High, Gentle Ben, The F.B.I. and Love, American Style.
And now, here he is on Burn Notice, wisecracking effortlessly, safecracking laboriously, and making the most of his screen time with Notice co-stars Sharon Gless, Bruce Campbell and Gabrielle Anwar.
Especially, in this episode, Anwar, whose beautiful, trigger-happy, violence-prone Fiona instantly catches the eye of Reynolds' Paul.
Regaling her with an exciting tale of watching Michael fight and subdue a couple of bad guys, Paul tells Fiona, "They used to call it karate, but I think they got a new name for it now."
She smiles at him and replies, "Foreplay?"
"Hello!" he says, his eyes widening with unchecked delight.
It's the way Reynolds delivers that line, and so many others, that makes me hope Burn Notice finds a way to return Reynolds to the fold. He and Donovan have an obvious chemistry together -- and when it comes to Burt Reynolds, 51 years of television doesn't seem like enough.
GUEST BLOG #106: Tom Brinkmoeller Salutes the Long, Impressive Lineage of PBS's "American Masters"
July 20, 2010 3:12 PM
[Bianculli here: Wednesday night at 9 ET, most PBS stations are presenting the latest American Masters documentary, a profile of veteran country artist Merle Haggard. He's survived for decades despite the fickle currents of pop culture -- but so has American Masters itself. Contributing writer Tom Brinkmoeller tracked down the show's persistent and perceptive executive producer, Susan Lacy, to learn how...]
"American Masters" Wrote, and Owns, the Book on Video Biography
By Tom Brinkmoeller
Since she came up with the idea of creating a video compendium of American culture 26 years ago, Susan Lacy has lived to make that dream fly. It's one that almost was grounded early.
In 1984, when she presented to PBS her idea for what would become American Masters, the decision-makers weren't ready to open either the network's wallet, or its doors to prime time, for her. There was no American model for what she was proposing, Lacy explained in a recent interview.
She wanted to start building a library of complete and compelling histories of creative giants that would be available for a long time after those giants were gone. Nothing close to her idea had ever been shown on PBS. She was competing for schedule space with such already-established hits as Nova, Masterpiece Theatre and Great Performances, as well some then-popular series like Newton's Apple and Matinee at the Bijou. Winning over enough supporters wasn't a quick process.
"I refused to believe it wasn't going to happen," Lacy, the series' executive producer, said.
Determination made this gem of an idea a reality. Merle Haggard: Learning to Live with Myself (July 21 at 9 ET on PBS; check local listings) marks the midpoint of American Masters' 24th season. Like the more than 160 profiles that preceded it, the hour presents a story of unique creativity, and one doesn't have to be deeply involved in the showcased field (in this case, country music) to get wrapped up in the story it tells. Whether Haggard is a known or an unknown in your mind, odds are favorable you'll know, and care, a lot more by the end of the program.
(If your local station isn't showing the Haggard program, PBS is making it available, temporarily, after the national broadcast. So beginning Wednesday, you can watch it on the American Masters website by clicking HERE.)
This kind of commitment is what distinguishes American Masters from A&E's Biography, Food Network's Chefography and most other similar bio-history projects. A number of factors make it singular.
Lacy's original vision, perfectly targeted, hasn't changed. The subjects always have been ones that have made a lasting difference in the cultural picture, versus people who burn brightly for a short time. Spots aren't auctioned as part of a marketing effort to push a movie opening, book release, concert tour or any other commercial event. And, most important, Lacy has held tightly to the belief that high-quality works only can be produced when the producers have full editorial control.
Without that control, a project won't be made, she said. And some stories she really wants to do have been held up for this reason. Lacy won't list them, because she says she remains "eternally optimistic" that the control eventually may be given -- as it was by Bob Dylan, whose 2005 American Masters profile, No Direction Home, won Peabody, Emmy and Grammy awards.
(A list, albeit an incomplete one, of the series' many profiles is posted on PBS' website, and can be found HERE.)
The schedule for the remainder of the current season is tantalizing: musician Israel "Cachao" Lopez (September); filmmaker Elia Kazan (October); Beatle John Lennon (November) and pianist Glenn Gould (December).
American Masters' silver-anniversary season isn't finalized yet, but Lacy said it will include actor Jeff Bridges and the Bridges family legacy; a profile of the "troubadour singer-songwriters of the 1960s and '70s," such as Carole King and James Taylor; naturalist John Muir; choreographer Bill T. Jones; and producer-director-impresario Joseph Papp.
Earlier this year, when Lacy accepted a CINE Lifetime Achievement Award, she told the audience that in the early days she just hoped the series might build enough support to win a second season on the air. "Who ever thought we'd become an institution?"
Her dream, now 25 years old, still isn't complete. Lacy said she always has envisioned the library of American Masters programs as an accessible record of American culture. In the hands of academics, she said, it could be turned into an extraordinary course in this country's cultural history.
That dream is an expensive one, and as a result less than 20 episodes can be purchased at present. Costs to purchase the rights to content of all of those programs is enormous, and in-perpetuity rights are even more expensive, she said.
Finding the funding to just keep the production going always has been a large task, Lacy said. Raising money to buy the rights was mostly too daunting to tackle. Somewhere, she believes, the funding finally will develop to make it possible to open the fabulous American Masters vault and give more people a look at the exceptional treasures inside.
Meanwhile, watch, and appreciate them, as they're televised.
GUEST BLOG #105: Mark Bianculli Talks TV -- Or, The Son Also Criticizes
July 16, 2010 10:00 AM
[Bianculli here -- DAVID Bianculli here, that is: I'm even more proud than usual to introduce the newest writer in our ever-expanding TV WORTH WATCHING stable: He's Mark Bianculli, my son. He grew up watching quality TV (how could he not?), was a TV critic for his college paper, and the same week I launched this website in 2007, he moved to Hollywood, hoping to write for television rather than about it. Until that happens, I've persuaded him to join us here. He's a better writer than I was at his age --and since he's only 26, he lowers our correspondents' average age the way Anderson Cooper does on 60 Minutes. Please welcome him, as he starts off by considering what makes good TV so good in the first place...]
It's Not the Story, It's the Storytelling
By Mark Bianculli
"So," it began, "what do you want to do out here?"
My immediate answer: "TV writer."
The unimpressed response: "Interesting. Why television?"
Maybe this wasn't going to be the smoothest job interview with a talent manager who made his living off of motion pictures. But I needed the assistant job. I thought for a moment.
"Because it's character-building."
While I got an unintentional laugh out of it, what I was actually trying to say is that unlike movies, television's unique strength is the ability to develop characters to their finest and fullest. To truly build characters.
Now, that's not to say that movies don't deliver some of the greatest characters of all time. Of course they do. All I'm suggesting is that when you watch such amazingly drawn characters as Col. Hans Landa in Inglourious Basterds, or Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men, or Sgt. William James in The Hurt Locker, you're only left wanting more.
When you watch Don Draper in Mad Men, however, or Walter White in Breaking Bad, or Dexter Morgan in Dexter, more is exactly what you get.
But this begs another question. Which is better? Isn't the cardinal rule of show business to always leave them wanting more? Don't TV shows eventually jump the shark and turn groundbreaking stories into tired, threadbare routines?
Well, yes and no. Some stories only need so much time to unfold, and need to go only so deep. Some things are better left unexplained or unfinished. But when you have seventy hours to explore your characters instead of two, you inherit the ability to make their relationships that much more complex, and to strike that many more chords with the emotions of your viewers. To this effect, a good movie is like a riveting short story. Good television is like a novel.
Taking this analogy a step further, consider your favorite novels. If asked why you like them so much, would it ever come down to how good the ending was, or the action-packed plot points? I'd bet that nine times out ten, it was the lyrical prose, the soulful insight, or the carefully crafted subtleties that kept you turning the pages. In other words, it's not the story that ultimately grabs you, but the storytelling.
This is why it's no surprise that a show like AMC's Mad Men is being heralded as the next great American novel. A period piece set in a time of extravagance and social change, with themes of truth and identity and class-rising woven throughout, this show begins by introducing us to one of the most fascinating characters in years, Madison Avenue ad exec Don Draper. A slick, mysterious, philandering alpha male who drinks, smokes, and cons his way to success -- who wouldn't want to watch this guy?
But Mad Men wouldn't necessarily work as a movie. The dark secret of Don's past is revealed quickly, and it isn't all that dark. The key to this show's success lies rather in the ability to slowly (and cleverly) dig deeper and deeper into the lives of the ensemble as well as Don, and to let the drama stem from human emotion, not action.
Writer-producer David E. Kelley's mantra on writing good characters was simple: make every character interesting enough so that you would be perfectly happy to follow them out of the room. In the case of Mad Men, literally every single character becomes more and more interesting with each minute of screen time.
By the end of season three, Joan, Peggy, Roger, Peter, and Betty are all Don Drapers in a sense, with enough intrigue and dynamism to make us eagerly follow them anywhere. In the movies, this would be impossible. No matter how fascinating the supporting characters, we would never have time to "leave the room." (Fine, maybe in Lord of the Rings).
But Don Draper and company are members of just one in a long line of stellar ensemble shows. Breaking Bad (also on AMC) approaches its story in a completely different style, turning and twisting violently at the surface over deeper themes of love, family, and virility. Here we have a lead character who, until a gradual transformation, is the anti-Don Draper.
Walter White (played by two-time Emmy winner Bryan Cranston) is a terminally ill high school chemistry teacher who teams up with a former student (played by Aaron Paul) to build his family a nest egg by selling crystal meth. From the very opening shot of the pilot, we are being dared to catch up to a story that is rushing by us at a frenetic pace.
Vince Gilligan pulls out some of his classic "teaser" tricks from his days on the X-Files, and taunts viewers with hints and misdirection, ultimately delivering some of the most inventive and well-crafted TV storytelling in years. And throughout the immediate dangers and dire consequences, we slow down enough to catch beautiful dialogue and deep emotional struggles. Add its wonderful humor, and you've got a show that carefully (and impressively) hits every note a viewer could possibly want.
Breaking Bad is indeed very different from a show like Mad Men. But the effect is the same: a web of wonderfully complex characters whose stories end up trumping the original series hook. Same goes for the The Sopranos, The Wire, Six Feet Under, Lost, Treme, Dexter, Damages, and countless others. All stories which, because of television, are given the time to plant proper seeds, to navigate through different perspectives. To write the novel.
Now, I realize this argument is a generalization, and that both sides are full of exceptions. Shows like 24 and CSI: Crime Scene Investigation aren't exactly based on the novels of Proust, and there are plenty of movies (The Lives of Others comes to mind) that prove just how subtly and passionately a human drama can be told.
But one thing is certain. Television, like life, lets us truly get to know people. Slower burns make for bigger payoffs. Breakups hurt more, and victories taste sweeter. Endings and beginnings become less easily defined.
Unlike the ephemeral quality of movies -- that perfect snapshot into the most interesting moment of one's life -- TV, at its best, sticks around for the long haul. It shows us what happens after you get the girl, or better yet, after you never get the girl. It stays with us long after we've lost our loved ones, or reaches back to a time before we even met them. It tells a complete story, for better or worse. There's something courageous in that.
So three years, two jobs, and one internship later, my convictions are exactly the same as they were in that very first interview.
When asked? My answer: always, and immediately:
"TV writer."
--
Mark Bianculli is former TV columnist for his high school and college newspapers, occasionally writing a feature or two professionally. After multiple internships on television shows and two-and-a-half years in talent management, he is still writing scripts and waiting for his chance to be a professional TV writer. And waiting... and waiting...
GUEST BLOG #104: P.J. Bednarski on the Rumors about Larry King's Probable CNN Replacement
July 14, 2010 7:52 PM
[Bianculli here: Contributing critic P.J. Bednarski has read the list of rumored front-runners for Larry King's soon-to-be-vacant job at CNN, and he's not impressed. In fact, he's somewhat irritated...]
Is CNN About to Take
A Long Walk Off a Short Piers?
By P.J. Bednarski
Apparently someone -- in addition to Piers Morgan's agent, his family and Piers Morgan himself -- believes that this British star of America's Got Talent, our nation's favorite derivative reality competition series, needs a second career as the new host of CNN's Larry King Live. I read he's in line for the job, in a New York Times story by Brian Stelter and Bill Carter.
Immediately, some things are clear. If CNN has to tap Piers Morgan, then America must not have as much as talent as is commonly believed. And clearly, the agents for many other no-profile journalists or marginal "personalities" have dropped the ball because they might have thought CNN was looking for someone more... substantial.
No. It could have been any of us, with the probable exception of anyone who has been or will become one of the Real Housewives anywhere. Fact is, there are a lot of relatively unknown and/or inappropriate people who could replace King. There's a world of them out there -- many of them in this country.
More to the point: IF Piers Morgan, a British tabloid journalist turned minor star of an American television series, is considered a replacement for King, then it really is true: CNN has lost its way.
This is a very bad idea.
Someone quoted in the Times story said that, historically, "almost every other UK TV import has been hugely successful" in the States. Stelter and Carter didn't examine that statement. But let's count the ones who are "hugely successful": Simon Cowell, David Frost, Craig Ferguson.
Then there's Anne Robinson, host of NBC's Weakest Link. For about 10 minutes starting in 2001, she captivated us. Oh. And Alistair Cooke. Google him.
I'm losing count, and I'm probably missing a few. But I don't think it's true that out there in the America that television serves and simultaneously disdains, many people have been saying, "Well, it's obvious. With Larry King going, only game show judge Piers Morgan can step in." Even Vegas oddsmakers were blindsided.
(To be really honest, NPR's Fresh Air host Terry Gross would make sense. To be honest again, she might be too smart. Even when she does celebrity interviews, she asks thoughtful questions.)
Fox News, which trounces CNN, wraps itself around the American flag. Fox ought to murder CNN for this Piers Morgan thing, even if it is a network owned by an Australian who had to become an American to be allowed to own TV stations in this country.
Still, I think it's fair to say that, on a day-to-day basis, Americans like lurid tales of fallen politicians, insights about breast implants, and chats with stars of fabulous movies that open this Friday at theaters everywhere, on a program fronted by an American host, or one who sounds like one.
News organizations have jettisoned thousands of people in the last decade. Most of them are highly qualified, and some are like me. But if it must be a dumb-down hour, can't CNN find an average -- and I mean average -- American journalist to give this job to? I think it must pay well.
--
P.J. Bednarski is the former executive editor of Broadcasting & Cable and longtime TV critic and contributor to TVWW. He can be reached at pjbednarski@comcast.net.
Letter from the TVWW Mailbag -- One Contributor Writes a Reader about... ME?
July 14, 2010 10:49 AM
[Bianculli here: It's getting nuts around here. First Eric Gould writes a column about a Lady Gaga video. Then I write an open column, addressed to Eric, challenging him to review three more videos, and selecting them for him as a dare. Then one of our readers writes in, good-naturedly questioning my psychological stability in selecting those videos. And then another of of our contributors, Tom Brinkmoeller, replies to that reader with what amounts to a column about...ME. This is where we pick up the story...]
Neil,
Though I don't know you, after reading your comments I feel obliged to share with you some suspicions about the TVWW blog's owner. Feel free to wring your hands along with me, should you wish.
I'm not so worried about what psychoanalysis might reveal about David. Nearly everyone who writes for him has been part of the four-star forced march that was known as the press tour. Spend enough enclosed time around the same group of people who are paid to sneer, and you learn that we're all damaged to the point where we'd hide from anyone who claims a knowledge of psychology. (Probably why I used to skip large blocks of the PBS portion of the tours.)
What I worry may have happened is that some V-like miniseries somehow came to life in New Jersey and what once was the singular Bianculli has been cloned into all kinds of equal shadows.
Think about it: This guy previews all kinds of programming. But he also continues to watch full episodes of series he's already reviewed, whether he liked them or not. (All of this is evident from reading his blog entries.) I sometimes try to figure out how much of my day would be eaten by such video vigilance. I waffle on a final answer, but most days I think trying to duplicate just these things would eat up more than a third of my day.
If that were all, my suspicions would be crazy. But this entity claiming to be David Bianculli also writes books, sometimes freelances, teaches, does network radio work, plays tennis, makes frequent trips to medical specialists, is proud father to two accomplished offspring and participates in mundane things like opening mail and cooking. Not microwaving. I have been told of omelets, sauces, sushi and other fine meals. And once a year he cleans his office.
And he travels. Call his cell and you'll usually reach him. But hardly ever in New Jersey. Once he was running through the L.A. Farmers Market, in search of a TV Guide. He's been in Colorado for a weekend. He goes to Italy for film festivals and Australia to watch whales. Does anyone know the complete itinerary?
But think: With all the viewing he does, plus all the other things he is known to take part in, the day starts to look like 50 pounds of air in a 20-pound tire. One person can't do all that.
When I was growing up in Cincinnati, the local gas and electric company named all of its customer-service reps Ann Holiday. No matter when you'd call, Ann would answer the phone. That was marketing to the naive. This Bianculli thing is more serious.
There is good reason to think there are many David Biancullis roaming the world as we sit in one place and do mortal tasks. They're not everywhere yet. But they're clever and they're covering their bases well. If this is true, we can only hope the FBI swoops in soon, makes a massive arrest of these print pretenders and arranges a swap with the broadcast bloc for all the Ryan Seacrest clones blanketing much of the world.
Laugh if you will at this theory. But today, when I discovered this Bianculli phenomenon also has encyclopedic knowledge of music videos from watching, I dared to go public with my theory. Before, in the back of my head, I theorized that maybe he just doesn't sleep. Can't rationalize that way anymore. The facts just pile too largely in favor of the eventual appearance of an army of Biancullis covering the earth. That in itself isn't so scary. But just think of the millions of awful puns such an army would produce.
Be wary,
Tom
