Ebert Presents...

The nightmare of the two Bens is a thing of the past. A.O. Scott and Michael Phillips had their brief moment in the sun. But inevitably, without Roger Ebert attached to the program, Buena Vista had no reason to continue the At the Movies show, with its decreasing popularity. Maybe if they had gone for Scott and Phillips first instead of the flash of the young Ben Lyons, but alas, no.

It has been common knowledge for those of us who care that Roger Ebert, who owns the thumbs trademark, has been shopping around the different networks to find a home for his version of the At the Movies show. Now he has finally found a home, at the old studio where he and Siskel, more then 30 years ago, began their At the Movies show.

The balcony is back, ladies and gentlemen. But of course our handicapped Ebert cannot himself be a co-host as he lacks speaking capabilities and thus could not enter into banter with his co-host. Instead, we get Christy Lemire of the Associated Press and Ignatiy Vishnevetsky of Mubi.com. Lemire is a seasoned critic who guest-hosted with Richard Roeper back when the show was cycling reviewers during Ebert's illness. Vishnevetsky is a more curious figure. Born in the Soviet Union, he moved to America when he was 8 and then eventually to Chicago because he could find more movies here. He manages the Odd Obsessions video store and was offered this position when Ebert heard him speaking at the Lake Street Screening Room and was rather impressed by his eloquence and charisma.

So how do the hosts hold up? Lemire is good, and if you saw her episodes with Roeper, then she pretty much performs as expected. Vishnevetsky is everything ABC wishes Ben Lyons would have been: he's young, charismatic, but what is especially important is that he comes to the table with a deep knowledge of film. He's a smart guy who knows how to say something meaningful about a film, good or bad, whereas Lyons would always spit out really (un)witty taglines for the ads.

But the show still lacks the key element that made Siskel and Ebert so good: the way they would argue. The co-hosts are very cordial, which is to be expected as these two people, I assume, didn't know each other before Vishnevetsky was hired for the show. They are still getting to know each other just as we the audience are getting to know them. But what really drove the old show wasn't just seeing Siskel and Ebert declare their love for a film (my favorite examples of this are Hoop Dreams, Pulp Fiction, and Fargo), it was also seeing them go at each others throat. Of course, I don't want Lemire and Vishnevetsky doing this for the sake of our amusement, and I know they won't. I trust that as they get more comfortable with each other, they will build a rapport that will keep us coming back each week.

The show's other nice touch is additional segments from outside contributors, including bloggers, other critics, and political analysts. Since this program is being broadcast on public television, there are no bigwig producers weighing down on the show to keep it flashy. Instead, there are some terrific segments that you wouldn't expect from any show today. A mock-Citizen Kane trailer introduces the principal players in the show, as well as Ebert's wife Chaz. Its a hilarious and fun segment. Kim Morgan also provides a look back to The Third Man (1949) and shoots her review as if she was apart of the film. And just this past week, political analyst Jeff Greenfield provided a look at why the president, in political movies, always gives a speech at the end that causes the entire crowd to go wild. This is something, Greenfield assures us, that never happens in real life.

And of course, there's Roger's Office, a brief segment where Ebert himself reviews a current film. Of course since he can't speak for himself we get guest voices to convey his words to us. Werner Herzog supplies Ebert's voice for his review of My Dog Tulip, and in the past two episodes Bill Curtis has been taken over the role. We only glimpse Ebert briefly, at the beginning as he types and then at the end when we get his final opinion. These brief snapshots of Ebert are a nice reminder of the old days.

It's a satisfying, if safe, new show that will allow us to get our weekly reviews again, something I have been missing since Scott and Phillips signed off back in August. Recently I was watching TV and a review for the Mechanic came on. The ad was displaying reviews, and mentioned the film received "Two Thumbs Up." I smiled and laughed, because it feels good having those thumbs back after a long four year hiatus.

Lost (2004 - 2010)

In the 24 hours since Lost came to a close I have spent some time pondering the conclusion of the hit television show that enthralled audiences for six years. I was not a member of that audience; I only started watch the show in March of 2009, so to say I am a true "Lostie" would be a lie. I jumped on the bandwagon at the very end of the run, but I can say Lost has been one of the single most interesting TV shows that has aired on television.

Before Lost's finale last night, a two-hour retrospective aired in which the whole show was recapped, with interviews of the cast and creators Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse. The word groundbreaking was used frequently to describe Lost's first year on air. I think it's sad that a show is bold when have of its episode is subtitled and that's considered challenging for American audiences.

But I will say Lost had the balls to go wherever they pleased and not look back with any hesitation. Does the show make sense? Not in the least bit. We've learned what the island is, we've learned what Jacob was supposed to do, we learned what the Smoke Monster's deal was...yet we never learned what those damn numbers were, we never learned why Walt and Aaron were so important...indeed, we didn't learn much, and the answers they did give us were a mite disappointing.

I am disappointed Lost never answered all these questions? No, I can't say I am. The writers clearly had plans for some things and improvised with most of it, and the answers to what the whispers were and who the Adam & Eve skeletons were were not only letdowns, but killed the mythology of everything. I think Lost gets replay value out of going back and studying what happened and deducing your own theories. Honestly, what you assumed happened will be the only answer that satisfies you. Cuse and Lindelof proved that if they answered everything it ruin the show more then it even has.

This hasn't been much of a review of the series at all, but I am making the safe assumption that if you decided to read this, you know what Lost is all about. Was the finale ultimately satisfying? I guess so. It was nice to see all the characters come together and have one last moment, and the bookend of the show was also a very well-executed moment. I did find the ultimate resolution of the flash-sideways universe a little hokey, though, even by Lost's standards. The show has been deeply rooted in spirituality versus science, and it seems spirituality wins out, though thankfully Cuse and Lindelof never explicitly state if the characters are going to heaven or not. Some of them I would assume have earned their ticket to hell, but they are in the melting pot church of religious ideals, and that is a nice message to send out. Religion only works if they can all agree to live together, but since that is against most of the basic tenants of religions, it'll never work.

Lots of fans and the creators themselves say the show has never been about the mysteries, it's been about the characters. Well, I agree, in the first three seasons that is. Season Four onwards focuses largely on the island, the mythology, and while the characters are wrapped up in flash-forwards, time travel, and flash-sideways (I mean purgatory) the show lost its character-driven focus, especially in the action packed Season Five. Six was an attempt to return to that, and while it was nice to see the Lost survivors living out a life somewhat happier then their former ones, and wasn't really the same until they realized that this reality was false.

To Lost's credit, the ending is going to be examined and debated for a while, until the dust settles and a new show rears its head. I remember the creators stating at the beginning of the season that they had to make the ending memorable. What do you remember about Six Feet Under's last season? The Sopranos? The ending of course. You barely remember what went down in those final seasons, you just remember how satisfied or unsatisfied you were when the story ended (abruptly, in one case). Well, everyone is going to remember this finale.

Me? I'm in the middle. I've read comments from the people who love it, I've read comments from the people who hate it. There was no way they were going to create a finale that was going to satisfy everyone anyways, so why not be as polarizing as you can be? I will say this about Lost: it is the ultimate example of people having creative freedom to do what they want. People call the show stupid, and yeah, I agree that some ridiculously crazy and asinine things happen on the show. But these were people who took the show wherever they wanted, and I admire them for that. It's good to have something like this every once in awhile; a show that doesn't take itself too seriously and instead is willing to embrace and go places television hasn't gone and probably will never go again.

The Wire (2002 - 2008)

"You remember that one day summer past? When we threw them piss balloons at them Terrace Boys? You remember, just before school started up again. You know, I took a beat down from them boys. I don't even throw a shadow on it. That was the day y'all bought me ice cream off the truck. You remember, Mike?"

"I don't."

The quote above captures the essence of what The Wire is all about. It's a show about cops, a show about drugs, a show about politics and all the areas in between. It doesn't portray all the drug dealers in a negative light, though it certainly doesn't ask you to sympathize for them, just to understand their situation. The quote above happens near the end of Season Five, as two kids we've followed since Season Four, Michael (Tristan Wilds) and Dukie (Jermaine Crawford) are about to separate due to unforeseen events. The show is filled with moments like these, and this one stands above as a defining moment of these characters.

The show's main character, if any, is Det. Jimmy McNulty (Dominic West), a renegade cop who goes outside the system and pisses people off to get the results he needs. And though this character is a cliché from most every other renegade cop movie, the difference is McNulty pays for his deeds, and though he produces results more often then not the bosses are so angry at him for what he's done that they kick him out of the unit.

The show is about, of course, wire taps, and they are the centerpiece in all the seasons. The show gets a bit redundant as we watch the Major Crimes unit attempt to set-up a wire tap, get it up, have it pulled, and then fight to get it up again. Just a few of the characters that come through this unit include Lester Freamon (Clarke Peters), Kima Greggs (Sonja Sohn), Cedric Daniels (Lance Reddick), and Sydnor (Corey Parker Robinson). Freamon is the driving force of the unit, and is present for all wiretaps, the rest come and go.

Aside from the cops, there are also the street characters: the first season focuses on the wiretaps of the Avon Barksdale (Wood Harris) crew, as they run the West side of Baltimore, controlling the corners. In the Barksdale crew you get Stringer Bell (Idris Elba), D'Angelo (Larry Gillard, Jr.), Bodie (J.D. Williams), and Wallace (Michael B. Jordan). Together they paint the crowd of drug dealers who are more or less forced into this life because it is the only reality they know, and all their role models ended up in the exact same place.

And each season brought a different focus, either via wiretap or influence: Season One dealt with drugs, Season Two dealt with smuggling at the ports, Season Three focused on the political aspect of Baltimore, Season Four focused on the schools, and Season Five focused on the newspaper's role in Baltimore. Each time we are introduced to beautifully drawn new characters, whether it is Frank Sobotka (Chris Bauer), Thomas Carcetti (Aidan Gillen), the four boys Namond (Julito McCullum), Randy (Maestro Harrell), Michael and Dukie, or Gus (Clark Johnson, also the director for the show's pilot and final episodes, among others), each one is more interesting then the last.

The show is described as being realistic and some may proclaim it is too full of itself in the beginning. I would agree with that sentiment, but it is real and deals with real life. The happy endings rarely exist here, and by the time you get to Season Five virtually every gangster from Season One is gone, either dead or in prison. Things don't always go so well for the cops or politicians either, but they don't get screwed. But each season ends with an air of open endedness, as the characters are either sentenced, or the bad guys evade capturing. There are a few triumphs in the show, and they are indeed happy, but the show lets most of the other characters fail to get what they want. It is very true to life.

The show is filled with dozens of characters, and I want to briefly mention two characters who don't fit in with the cops, delears, politicians, or whatever: Bubbles (Andre Royo) and Omar (Michael K. Williams). Bubbles is a drug junkie, but also a CI to the Major Crimes unit, and he is perhaps the most interesting character in show. We watch him live through impossible moral situations, but I think what makes him the most empathetic character is he is a genuinely nice guy. Sure he steals things, he shoots up heroin, and does other dishonorable things, but Bubbles has a big heart and Andre Royo puts on one hell of a fantastic performance.

Omar, on the other hand, is the show's one plain awesome character. He lives outside the drug world, instead robbing Barksdale's stashes regularly and doing as he pleases. Omar is bonafide badassery, as his presence exudes fear over the entire populace. Everyone knows who he is, fears him, and wants to take him out. But the character couldn't get away with being a badass and still be good: Omar is sympathetic, if only because the Barksdale crew comes down on him harder then he could imagine in Season One, and you start liking him from that point on. True, he knows what the consequences are in his nature of business, but it doesn't make it any easier.

I could ramble on and on, and describe dozens of other characters I haven't mentioned or subplots that happen. But I will simply praise the show overall, and crown it's fourth season as the best season of the show. The four kids focused on in that season are all terrific actors, and give the viewer a good idea of how these teenagers are forced, from an early age, into the life of drugs and why they think they have no choice. They don't expect to live past 25 if they're lucky, and such a dictated short life is a sad one.

The writers do a terrific job of balancing all these characters in all these seasons, and giving you just enough of every storyline to keep you satisfied. If you go back to any of the latter seasons and just dissect the events of an episode, your head will spin with the amount of storytelling the writers accomplished so effortlessly (or so it seems). Knowing each character, their drive, what makes them them, is such a difficult task to accomplish and the writers have done it admirably. They also are not afraid to cast characters aside if they don't need them; indeed, McNulty appears rarely in the Fourth Season because the show has no reason to focus on him, and they are ok with that (Dominic West still gets first billing, though).

And the acting is so good that I forget these are not real people, that they don't exist. I would say that more for this show then any other I've seen, though The Sopranos and Six Feet Under both feature terrific ensemble casts and convinced me these were real people. But all these actors are terrific, and to find so many great actors for a such a wide reaching show is quite an accomplishment. I never research a show while I'm watching it because once I see the actor interviews or the director interviews, I'm reminded that this is a show, it doesn't exist, and that kills a bit of the magic for me. Maintaining that illusion through these five incredible HBO shows is something I feel I've done rather well.

So is this the greatest television show ever made? Indeed I may have to say its close. While the HBO kin The Sorpanos and Six Feet Under are both equally great, both suffered from less-then-stellar final seasons (though the endings to both shows, particularly Six Feet Under's, are incredible). The Wire's weakest season is its first, I believe, and it gets better and better until it reaches a pinnacle with its penultimate season. The fifth season, though terrific, is more exaggerated then we're used to, but, in the end, David Chase, the creator of this show, has made some of the finest television I've ever seen. I don't know if I can hope to find a show better then this.

Dexter: Season 4 (2009)

Warning: This review spoils content on the TV show Dexter, from Season 1 through most of 4. Please stop reading if you are not caught up on this show.

Boy, what a season of Dexter this was. After the past season's admittedly lame Miguel Prado storyline, in which Dexter tried to create a partner and was usurped by the man's utter lack of control, we get a return to the formula that I surmised was going to define the show from Season One: Dexter hunts another major serial killer. The Ice Truck Killer, a.k.a Dexter's brother Brian Moser, was Season One's big one, but otherwise there hasn't been anything of interest. Season Two shook up the formula before it was established by having Dexter himself be the hunted. And the Skinner, from Season Three, stayed in the shadows most of the time, only revealing himself at the end in a kind of lame twist on what was expected.

But that brings us to Season Four, and the decision to invent the creepiest, most effective fictional serial killer on Dexter: Trinity (John Lithgow, in an amazing performance). His cold, calculated method of three kills, one bathtub murder of a young woman, one forced suicide of a mother of two, and one bludgeoning of a father of two is a great little system. But more fascinating then the method of the serial killer is the performance by Lithgow. But more on that later.

Season Four began with Dexter dealing with his new life: father of three, married man, full time job, yet still trying to satisfy that Dark Passenger we've come to know so well (and who has been embodied by Dexter's dead foster father, Harry Morgan (James Remar)). The first two episodes alone provided some nail biters, as Dexter flubs a kill and tries to retrace his steps.

Briefly back on the scene was FBI Special Agent Frank Lundy (Keith Carradine), retired, hunting the Trinity killer because the FBI for some reason thought that the best serial killer hunter was off his rockers. Right. Regardless, it provides this season with an exciting villain, and after Lundy is offed in front of Deb (Jennifer Carpenter), and Deb herself is harmed, it leads Dexter to hunt Trinity as the suspected killer.

The show, in its first half, is fairly routine for Dexter: he repeatedly juggles family and work and killing, and slowly unveils the Trinity's identity, a.k.a. Arthur Mitchell, Christian, family man. There's a particularly annoying, but thematic subplot involving Angel Bastita (David Zayas) and LaGuerta's (Lauren Vélez) office romance. And Deb's search through her father's old CI files, while paying off in the end, takes a bit of time to get going.

But the show really takes off with the character of Arthur Mitchell. Dexter's discovery that he has a happy family (much like Dexter himself), using them as a cloak. Here, the show repeats the third season in several places, with Dexter seeking knowledge from Trinity, learning to hide himself in plain sight instead of in his very awesome apartment. This is in contrast of him seeking a friend in Miguel Prado last season. Differing, but similar storylines. That, and a repeat of Dexter killing an innocent man was leading this season towards redundant hell.

But lo and behold, in the show's Thanksgiving episode "Hungry Man," Dexter witnesses Trinity's true persona in front of his family, and the constant state of terror they live in. It was with this episode that the season really took flight, and in the last four episodes, cemented the season as, in my opinion, the second best of the show's current four seasons (Season 1 being first, 2 and 3 after).

John Lithgow is terrifying, terrific, and many other "t" adjectives. He brings life and humanity, as well as a monstrous side to the character of Arthur Mitchell, and is believable for every moment of the show, down to the end. Few actors have stood out as much as Lithgow does here, and I hope he is honored in many an awards show to come. He rightly deserves it.

But what officially cements the show is its ending. Season Two and Season Three ended on happy notes: Dexter frames someone else for his crimes, Dexter gets married. What made Season One so terrific was it ended leaving you wanting more; Dexter kills his brother, Doakes begins tailing him, and his then-girlfrend finds out her jailbird ex is telling the truth about Dexter. And this season delivers in a poignant, half-expected yet still totally surprising and devastating moment that leaves you waiting for the next season. Where Dexter will go from here is hard to say, but one knows it will be completely different from the show we've come to love these past four years. It really creates overarching themes for the whole season: it is about Dexter seeking a new life, it is about how Dexter's recklessness cost him, it is about how life is unfair. I eagerly await September 2010 with baited breath.

What's Left for The Office?

I rarely do this, break off from film and review something television show related, especially when that television has only started its season. But The Office had a very important episode this past Thursday: Jim and Pam finally tied the knot.

This may sound like the ramblings of someone who has probably spent too much time watching this show, but I feel it is important to "blog" about it because Jim and Pam's relationship has been the emotional thrust of the show, the center story that the rest of the series has more or less revolved. I had always imagined the show ending with Jim and Pam's wedding, but now it has happened a mere four episodes into the show's sixth season.

Which begs the question: what's left for the Office? This show now almost feels over to me, as everything is fairly routine and, as the past season indicated, whenever something gets shaken up it just resolves itself simply a few episodes later (Pam moving to NY for school, Michael and Pam quitting Dunder-Mifflin). Jim has been promoted to co-manage with Michael Scott, and while the episode "The Promotion" hilariously detailed the way these two play off each other, I also feel it is a device that will become tired very soon.

The only thing left, I guess, is for Michael Scott to find his true happiness, which it seems he may be on the way to discovering considering who he hooks up with at the end of the wedding. But there is no satisfying way to wrap up each character's story lines. Pam is going to have a baby, another exciting prospect I guess. What I'm trying to say is this needs to be the show's final season. Can you really imagine a 7th season of the Office, where Pam and Jim are parents?

To comment on the wedding episode briefly, I thought it was an effective combo of hilarity and sappiness that worked for me. The dance at the end was, I guess, also kind of stupid, but it worked for me in that stupid kind of way. I haven't seen the YouTube video that inspired it, but I probably won't seek it out. The Office's interpretation was a fitting way for Jim and Pam to get married, I guess.