Monday, June 06, 2005
Reflections on the moving picture box
I've been watching a fair bit of television lately, far more than I usually do. Of course, when I say TV, I really mean the programs that air on TV that I either purchase in bulk installments via DVD, or the individual episodes that I download. My tolerance for the broadcast mentality of TV as most people know it is far too low for me to consider waiting for a given time to enjoy a show, especially if it has the added value of sponsored stops in the show every 12 minutes or so.
Firefly is my currently favored fix. It seems that nearly everyone who watches this sucker ends up indoctrinated into the Cult of Whedon, espousing the virtues of crew of Serenity at every chance they get, and I believe I am no exception. It's seriously great stuff, even when measured against "real" television, something that is markedly different from the "it's good for sci-fi" label that usually gets chosen. I would wonder why it got cancelled originally, but then I remember that it was on Fox, a network that seems to alternately cultivate and dismiss quality work, neither for any particular reason. I also recall that the "space cowboy" genre, which seems in my mind totally logical, could also be considered too niche to be forcibly pumped full of money and dragged out onto the airwaves in the same manner that other television programs get produced.
Another gem in my new-found oeuvre is Samurai Jack season two. It's more or less a continuation of all the awesomeness of the first season, and I am greatly enjoying it just like I did that first one. The fact that Mr. Tartakovski has managed to combine the best elements of nearly every niche film genre, in a package that is both suitable for all audiences and immensely stylish, nearly blows my mind. That he can get away with episodes in which the dialogue can be summed up in three or four lines, just takes my blown mind and scatters the pieces even further to the winds, leaving me transfixed in front of the screen. Heartily recommended.
The Office is yet another programme that is sure to keep me captivated. It's labelled as a comedy, and I've heard that there are those who think it's funny, and yet when I watched the pilot, I just sat in a state of total shock and perplexion. It is like one's private window into a lesser circle of Hell. The one they reserve for people who really do live like this. The boss character is such an ass, and the rest of the cast are so neurotic, that I probably would find it quite funny if I weren't so afraid. I suppose this is largely due to the fact that I would literally hang myself by my tie if I were forced to seek employment in such an environment. I am hoping that things get better and that I won't have to worry about shitting myself in terror when I get to later episodes, but I hear that the boss just gets worse and worse. My gut is telling me that this show will be like a scab that bears constant picking to the point of painful insanity, but it is my fingers that do the scratching, and they also control the remote. ¶ 7:11 p.m.
I've been watching a fair bit of television lately, far more than I usually do. Of course, when I say TV, I really mean the programs that air on TV that I either purchase in bulk installments via DVD, or the individual episodes that I download. My tolerance for the broadcast mentality of TV as most people know it is far too low for me to consider waiting for a given time to enjoy a show, especially if it has the added value of sponsored stops in the show every 12 minutes or so.
Firefly is my currently favored fix. It seems that nearly everyone who watches this sucker ends up indoctrinated into the Cult of Whedon, espousing the virtues of crew of Serenity at every chance they get, and I believe I am no exception. It's seriously great stuff, even when measured against "real" television, something that is markedly different from the "it's good for sci-fi" label that usually gets chosen. I would wonder why it got cancelled originally, but then I remember that it was on Fox, a network that seems to alternately cultivate and dismiss quality work, neither for any particular reason. I also recall that the "space cowboy" genre, which seems in my mind totally logical, could also be considered too niche to be forcibly pumped full of money and dragged out onto the airwaves in the same manner that other television programs get produced.
Another gem in my new-found oeuvre is Samurai Jack season two. It's more or less a continuation of all the awesomeness of the first season, and I am greatly enjoying it just like I did that first one. The fact that Mr. Tartakovski has managed to combine the best elements of nearly every niche film genre, in a package that is both suitable for all audiences and immensely stylish, nearly blows my mind. That he can get away with episodes in which the dialogue can be summed up in three or four lines, just takes my blown mind and scatters the pieces even further to the winds, leaving me transfixed in front of the screen. Heartily recommended.
The Office is yet another programme that is sure to keep me captivated. It's labelled as a comedy, and I've heard that there are those who think it's funny, and yet when I watched the pilot, I just sat in a state of total shock and perplexion. It is like one's private window into a lesser circle of Hell. The one they reserve for people who really do live like this. The boss character is such an ass, and the rest of the cast are so neurotic, that I probably would find it quite funny if I weren't so afraid. I suppose this is largely due to the fact that I would literally hang myself by my tie if I were forced to seek employment in such an environment. I am hoping that things get better and that I won't have to worry about shitting myself in terror when I get to later episodes, but I hear that the boss just gets worse and worse. My gut is telling me that this show will be like a scab that bears constant picking to the point of painful insanity, but it is my fingers that do the scratching, and they also control the remote. ¶ 7:11 p.m.
