Tag Archives: television

Thursday Mishmash

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Warm and dry lately. Very warm sometimes. Luckily, our deck has an umbrella for shade.

Spring on Jupiter or Mars? Never mind, here’s summer on Saturn. At least in its northern hemisphere. Seasons are long there are probably don’t involve relaxing moments on back yard decks. Anyway, a thing of great beauty.“This image is taken as part of the Outer Planets Atmospheres Legacy (OPAL) project,” the NASA text says. “OPAL is helping scientists understand the atmospheric dynamics and evolution of our solar system’s gas giant planets. In Saturn’s case, astronomers continue tracking shifting weather patterns and storms.”

For contrast, an older observation of Saturn. Another thing of beauty.
Plate X from The Trouvelot Astronomical Drawings 1881-1882, these days posted at Wikimedia.

Closer to home, at Schaumburg Town Square.
Schaumburg Town SquareRubber-Tipped CraneThe sculpture is “Rubber Tipped Crane,” by Christine Rojek. Installed in 2012. Lilly said she hadn’t remembered seeing it before, but I did. Rojek also did “Ecce Hora” not far away.

Our latest Star Trek episode — we’re still watching about one a week — was “Squire of Gothos,” an early example of kidnap Kirk (and maybe Spock and others) and make him (them) outfight or outwit some adversary. This was a particularly good example of that kind of plot, including a deus ex machina ending that actually worked pretty well.

Our latest movie: The Shining. I hadn’t seen it since it was new. I remember it drew in some crowds in the summer of ’80, because when we got to the theater, only front-row seats were available. So I got to experience the Overlook Hotel in all its surreal, horror-infused glory as an enormous wall of light towering over me.

Always good to watch Jack Nicholson do what he does, in this case descend into homicidal madness. I also thought Shelley Duvall’s parallel track — her increasing freaked-out-ness, you might say — was on target. Her character has been mocked as whiny and weak, but she and her son survived.

So the movie holds up fairly well (and I don’t care at all what Stephen King thought of it). Still, not Kubrick’s best. What could possibly top Dr. Strangelove or 2001? But worth watching again after 40 years.

Half-Assed Journey to Babel

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Our most recent Star Trek episode was “Journey to Babel,” in which the Enterprise ferries a number of Federation delegates to a meeting, with murder and other danger in the offing. How long had it been since I’d seen that particular episode? More than 40 years? Probably. In this case, it was worse than I remembered.

Sure, we’re talking about a weekly TV show slapped together and broadcast without a care about anything beyond a rerun or two. The wonder is that some of them are as good as they are.

Still, I feel like grousing. Sometimes you should run with that feeling.

How is it that Kirk didn’t know his first officer’s father was an important figure in the Vulcan government? What kind of personnel records does Starfleet keep?

There’s no kind of surveillance on the Enterprise. During this episode at least. Do I remember right that the ship’s computer can, on request, find the location of a specific person on the ship? So how come there’s no record of a murder committed in one of the corridors?

How could the suicide mission ship be fooled so easily by the Enterprise playing possum? Also: a suicide mission. Man, that’s Al-Qaeda-level devotion to a cause that really boils down to facilitating smuggling and arms dealing. Well, that’s alien psychology for you.

Why wasn’t the blue alien with faux antennae who attacked Kirk in shackles when they brought him to the bridge? Aside from his known murderous tendencies, as a rule aliens on the bridge have an unfortunate habit of taking over the ship or otherwise causing trouble.

What was the point of his attacking Kirk anyway? We got to see Kirk going mano-a-mano against a knife-carrying blue alien — guess that was the point.

In sick bay, Spock had something important to communicate to the captain, but McCoy rudely knocks him out instead of, you know, giving him a communicator —

Why didn’t Sarak seek treatment on Vulcan in the first place? Turns out it wasn’t a surprise medical condition (except to his wife) so he left on an important diplomatic mission knowing full well he could fall deathly ill in a place where treatment was no certain thing — where’s the logic in that?

When Spock has his dramatic confrontation with his mother, he goes on at length about needing to be in command right now, this very moment, something he’s manifestly not doing. Why wasn’t he on the bridge?

What’s the deal with Vulcan-human mating anyway? How could that possibly work, even within the not-very-consistent confines of the show?

I wanted to see more quarreling among the delegates. Kirk made a big deal about how they were at each other’s throats, but mostly they seemed pretty mellow at that cocktail party. The belligerent pig-men mixing it up with the gold-skinned dwarfs would have been a thing to see.

Thursday Slumgullion

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A while ago, I sent a message in a professional capacity to one of Ikea’s subsidiaries. It bounced back, with this message as a reply.

Det gick inte att leverera till följande mottagare eller grupper:
centrespr@ingka.com

Det gick inte att hitta den angivna e-postadressen. Kontrollera mottagarens e-postadress och skicka sedan meddelandet igen. Kontakta e-postadministratören om problemet kvarstår.

Recent movies seen here at home, as if they would be anywhere else, include The Stranger, an Orson Welles noir that I’d never gotten around to seeing; I’ll go along with Variety’s contemporary assessment, quoted in Wiki — it’s a “socko melodrama” — and it made me sorry Welles didn’t get to make that many pictures. Chicago, which was better on the second viewing; the first was when it was fairly new. For a Few Dollars More, which was as good as I remembered it. The pointlessly rejiggered version of Star Wars, which Ann hadn’t seen any version of. The Hundred-Foot Journey, a fair-to-middling foodie movie.

Star Trek watching continues: “The Gamesters of Triskelion,” “The Naked Time,” “Space Seed,” and — because I thought Ann should see some of the lesser lights of the original series, “The Way to Eden,” which is the episode that features space hippies. She continues to get a kick out of the series, especially the costumes, and double especially the space-hippie garb. Made me smile, too.

“The Way to Eden” was bad enough, but not quite as bad as I remember. With a few tweaks, such as making the hippies at least slightly sympathetic, it could have been a much better episode.

Speaking of TV, I had an encounter with the spanking-new HBO Max today. As in, something I wanted to watch on a service I already pay for suddenly disappeared into this latest scheme to tunnel into my wallet. FO, HBO Max. There’s nothing on TV I can’t live without. Nothing.

Last Saturday, which was part sunny and later rainy, I did a lot. A lot of the kind of things you do to keep life running more-or-less on track. I record it here because, if in some future time when the memory of the day has faded, I want to marvel — assuming I survive middle age to marvel — at how productive I was that May day during the pandemic. The rest of the family was likewise busy that day, going all Marie Kondo on the upstairs bedrooms, from which much debris has been removed. Call it spring cleaning.

Besides taking my meals and watching an episode of the remarkably good (if basic) Greatest Events of WWII, I mowed part of our lawn, repaired a windchime, did some of the laundry, cleaned the inside of my car, went to the bank, post office, and drug store (all drive through), walked the dog, helped Ann remove a lot of items from a high shelf in her room, did a first run-through of my taxes, helped Lilly fill out her taxes, vacuumed the living room, swept two rooms, fixed a leaky pipe under the kitchen sink, and washed a lot of dishes. I ended the day reading a bit of Moby-Dick, which I’m slowly working my way through.

The Weekend of the Anthropomorphic Carrot

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Saturday: cold rain almost all day. Sunday: pleasantly sunny and warm. Had the whole variety of spring weather this weekend. We probably would have stayed home Saturday even in normal times, for reading, watching TV, cleaning up, etc.

No movies over the weekend, just TV shows: Rake, a new bilingual Japanese-English cop show called Giri/Haji (Duty/Shame), the first episode of Downton Abbey, which I’d never gotten around to seeing before, the Star Trek episode “Balance of Terror” and because I told Ann she should see one episode of Lost in Space, “The Great Vegetable Rebellion.” Really, how could you do any better — and I mean worse — than that?

I think I last saw part of that episode on TV in a motel room more than 20 years ago, but its fame (notoriety) proceeds it anyway. I’d forgotten that Stanley Adams played the man-like carrot. He of course played Cyrano Jones in “The Trouble With Tribbles.” And how many actors appeared on both Lost in Space and Star Trek? The answer is, a few. I’m hardly the first person to wonder.

Ann was much amused by the whole thing. She also pointed out how amazingly colorful the show was, including not just the vegetables, but the Robinsons’ clothes, something I’d never really noticed before. I told her that color TV was brand new at the time, and that a number of shows took advantage of it to go full psychedelia on the audience.

Though I’m not one of them, “The Great Vegetable Rebellion” has its defenders, such as this amusing essay published by MeTV.

“Packer [the scriptwriter of the episode] had ideas,” the article notes. “A planet populated by sentient plants is an idea. A birthday party for a robot is an idea. Vines crying out in pain like electronic piccolos is an idea. A hippie with purple hair and lettuce heart is an idea. A giant fern attacking Will and Judy is an idea. Dr. Smith transmutating into a massive celery stalk is an idea. An eight-foot, anthropomorphic carrot clutching at his breast and crying ‘Moisture! Moisture!’ before splashing water over his torso from a gas pump — that’s an idea!”

The Next Generation Watches Star Trek

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Woke up to a light blanket of snow this morning that slowly melted as the day wore on. Still cold out there. Sheltering in place is better when you can spend time outside comfortably, but the weather doesn’t care about merely human concerns.

Beginning in mid-March, at Ann’s request, we’ve been watching more TV shows and movies together than we usually do. As an old-timer, one of the shows I’ve suggested is the original Star Trek which, remarkably, she’s enjoying a lot, though only two episodes so far.

She likes them, she says, because they’re fun. Many more recent shows are too serious. So I think she’s taking them in the right spirit, which is to say, as entertainment. She also commented that the character dynamic between Kirk and Spock is particularly strong, which of course it is.

The two episodes we’ve watched so far are “Mirror, Mirror” and “Devil in the Dark” (last year sometime, we also watched “The City on the Edge of Forever” and “The Trouble With Tribbles”). They are all particular favorites of mine, so I recommended them. Who doesn’t like Spock with a beard?

As for “Devil in the Dark,” it has a special place in my recollections. It’s a solid episode, but that’s not it. In 1973, a San Antonio station started showing Star Trek in the afternoons, part of the cascade of reruns that kept the franchise alive, though no one would have put it that way then. I was in junior high, the perfect age to start watching Star Trek. The first episode the station aired, for whatever reason — such inattention to correct order would probably outrage fanboys these days — was “Devil in the Dark.”

It’s That Guy

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Had a “it’s that guy” moment on Easter evening when watching Groundhog Day. Ann wanted to see it since she hadn’t before, but had heard of it. Yuriko and I hardly minded seeing it again, third time maybe over the last 25 years, since it’s a movie of such charm.

Fairly early in the movie, Bill Murray’s character has an appointment with a psychiatrist. It’s a small part, since I don’t think the psychiatrist appears again, unlike many of the other townsfolk. As soon as I saw him, I thought — it’s that guy in Lodge 49, an entertaining series I’m watching about once a week (the best way to do it). Only he’s close to 30 years younger.

So it was: David Pasquesi, who plays a lodge member who has an actual interest in alchemy, unlike most of the rest of the members. Like most character actors, his list of credits mostly includes titles I’ve never seen, or even heard of in a lot of cases. Does good work on Lodge 49, though.

Curiously enough, that isn’t the only overlap. Brian Doyle-Murray, who also had a small part in Groundhog Day, is a recurring character on Lodge 49.

Movies Unlimited, April 2020

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Today = an actual spring day. Even when a little wind blew and the sun was behind clouds, it was still pleasantly warm. Lunch again on the deck. Breakfast, too.

The April 2020 edition of Movies Unlimited came in the mail not long ago. I will assume for now that the dread coronavirus doesn’t last long on paper and handle my mail. (That’s what it should be called, the dread coronavirus. It was good enough for the pirate Roberts.)

Sounds like a magazine, but it’s really a catalog produced by a company of that name in Itasca, Illinois, only a short drive from where I live. I don’t remember the last time I got one. They come now and then, not monthly. But MU seems optimistic that someday, in a freak of geezer inspiration, I’ll order one of its DVDs or Blu-ray discs. Maybe I will.

“The book you’re holding is NOT the complete Movies Unlimited Catalog,” the company proclaims on the inside cover. “This Is!” it says, with an arrow pointing to a picture of a 432-page catalog available for $8.95. Order it now, it says, “and get ready to be movied like you’ve never been movied before!”

Well, no. But the free smaller catalog has its interests. In fact, MU offers a decent selection — old and new, famed and obscure, color and black-and-white, movies and TV shows, domestic and foreign, in a variety of genres. Much of it for an older audience, such as the wide selection of 20th-century TV series, but not entirely geared to geezers, with a sizable selection of 21st-century output.

There are near-full pages devoted to Studio Ghibli, Disney, the Three Stooges, Ray Harryhausen, film noir, John Wayne, Dick Tracy, Hammer, Little House on the Prairie, Audie Murphy and more, and one full page each devoted to Martin & Lewis and Dark Shadows.

That last one struck me as an oddity, but I guess they know their market. Mostly women roughly my age, I think. Maybe more men than I’d expect, those who watched it in secret during its initial run. That didn’t include me. I think I saw an episode and decided that was enough.

Anyway, someone interested in owning the complete original series on DVD will have to pay $479.99 for 131 discs totaling 470 hours, “packaged in a coffin-shaped, collector’s set and including a 100-page booklet.” If that’s too much, 26 separate collections are for sale for $31.99 each, or you can buy Dark Shadows Bloopers & Treasures.

Yakov

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Though not particularly warm today, we took a mile or so walk beginning at about 5:30 this afternoon. Just an afternoon stroll. There’s still traffic on our suburb roads, of course, but in volume it was more like a Sunday afternoon than a weekday rush hour.

One more item from the early 2000s. I didn’t realize it until today, but everything this week has been from that period, except for Sunday. An unconscious choice, probably, signifying — like all that sound and fury — nothing.

The first time we ever passed through Branson, in 2001 as a short detour on the way to Dallas, I picked up a Yakov ad pamphlet. Probably at the restaurant we ate lunch, which was the only thing we did in town.

Why? We weren’t planning to see the show. I think I’d heard of him, maybe even seen him on television by chance, such as his beer commercial, though I didn’t watch much TV during his heyday.

I’m sure I picked up the pamphlet because of the billboards we’d seen between Springfield, Mo., and Branson, which amused me. There were a lot of them advertising his Branson show, which he did from 1993 to 2015. The billboards looked a lot like the pamphlet, if I remember right. A big Yakov face promising a wacky Soviet — that is, Russian — comedian.

For the record, Yakov Naumovich Pokhis — his stage name taken from the vodka, apparently — was actually from the Ukraine. He’s still touring, or presumably was until recently, and probably will be again sometime.

Strange Days Indeed

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For the equinox today, rain. Also, robins. A lot of birds, actually, to judge by the volume of birdsong I hear when I’m outside. Only outside briefly today, anyway. Lots to do inside. Sometimes, though, I can hear mourning doves doing their whoo-whoo while I’m inside, if it’s quiet enough.

Speaking of animals, file this picture under the category of Good Luck With That.

Was this only about a month ago?

That’s a short clip I made at the Grand Central Market in Downtown Los Angeles on February 22. I’d planned to leave a few minutes before, but it was raining, so I used the idle moments to take pictures and the single clip.

Ah, those carefree days… of yore? How long ago does yore get to be? Longer than a month, usually, but these are unusual times.

Or usual? So far the 21st century seems to have gone off the rails every 10 years or so.

Late last year, I watched the short series Good Omens, which was amusing, especially for its main characters, and noted that the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, who make an appearance, had a substitution. Instead of War, Pestilence, Famine and Death, they were War, Pollution, Famine and Death (and they rode motorcycles, but never mind).

The thinking, I suppose, was that Pestilence had abated enough to give Pollution a slot. Events have overtaken that notion. Seems that Pestilence won’t be denied its place in mankind’s woes.

Once Upon a Time in Quentin Tarantino’s Childhood

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We went to see Once Upon a Time in Hollywood not long ago. Been a while since I’d seen a new movie, or a Quentin Tarantino movie, for that matter. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’d ever seen one of his movies in the theater — everything’s been on tape or DVD or demand, to list formats chronologically.

I left Once Upon a Time wondering how old Tarantino is. I knew next to nothing about him, except for his fondness for putting ultraviolence in his movies. From the way he depicted the period of the movie, 1969, I got the sense that he remembered it, but not as an adult. Like me.

Sure enough, he was born in 1963. That makes us contemporaries. Later he must have filled in some of the gaps his own memory might not have retained, as one does. I can’t imagine, for instance, that a six-year-old would have paid much attention to Sharon Tate or any of the movies she was in, least of all a bomb like The Wrecking Crew. (Matt Helm movies are best forgotten.) On the other hand, Tarantino probably saw old TV westerns on reruns or shows like the FBI or Mannix in the early ’70s, just as I did.

Yuriko came away baffled by many of the references. She’d come to see Brad Pitt, whom she enjoyed seeing — he had a good part — but it isn’t a past she shares. Neither of our daughters went, but come to think of it, most of the references probably would have been strange to them as well.

Despite including the Manson family and some other unsavory aspects of the period, the movie was an exercise in nostalgia — of a kid who watched American movies and TV beginning in the late 1960s. For a time when Americans watched roughly the same TV shows and movies, because options were much more limited than they are now.

What will be the basis of pop-culture nostalgia for the 2010s in 50 years, if there’s any? I’d think it would be as fractured as entertainment is now. Well, so what? Can’t say that I care. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Pitt, as stuntman Cliff Booth, had my favorite line in the movie. In a flashback, Booth was on the set of The Green Hornet with Bruce Lee, who is characterized as a preening, vain fellow, and they’re rehearsing a fight scene.

Bruce Lee: My hands are registered as lethal weapons. We get into a fight, I accidentally kill you? I go to jail.

Cliff Booth: Anybody accidentally kills anybody in a fight, they go to jail. It’s called manslaughter.