The Eyes Have It

This week I have begun watching the third season of the HBO western drama Deadwood. Like the previous two seasons, this show continues to be immensely entertaining thanks to the compelling characters, gorgeous cinematography and excellent scripting (often sprinkled with prolific and creative swearing); last night however, I was treated to a scene that as you know is near and dear to me...yet another eye gouging.

An addition to the cast this year was former USC football star and veteran stuntman Allan Graf (looking quite dapper above). He plays Captain Turner, the bodyguard to George Hearst, and quickly becomes and adversary to Dan Dority. If you have not seen the show and have no idea what I am talking about, please do yourself a favor and start renting it today.

Without going into too much detail, since I don't want to spoil it for those of you who actually would like to follow the show, let's just say that this particular Cap'n finds himself in a brutal fight which leads to permanent tunnel vision for one of those involved. While not the best looking of eye effects that I have come across, the actor does a great job selling the discomfort of this climatic blinding. If you are interested in watching it, please click here.

I also happened to catch an extended promotional trailer for the '70s film The Gore Gore Girls directed by the Godfather of Gore, H.G. Lewis which had one of the more drawn out eye scenes I know of. I don't know if that is floating around, but the promotional clip is tasteless enough that I'll let you readers hunt it down for yourselves.

I also have been lent a film by a friend who appreciates my ocular obsession. The film titled Dead Meat was floated my way with the promise of two eyeball scenes...so I guess there is more to come. Until then...

Same to same,

Capt. Hendry

Still Good After All These Years

As a follow up to a previous entry, I have now watched enough episodes of the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon from the early 1980's to give a fair assessment of how well it holds up. Let me just say that I still love it. The first episode had me a little nervous, I didn't really like the pacing or the some of the animation choices, but this must have just been a bad episode.

The majority of the series is a pleasure, with decent animation (that sometimes does something really neat), a myriad of scary creatures, and a hell of a lot more Star Wars references than I remember. There are episodes that make mention to wookies and Obi-Wan Kenobi, and some of the plot points were directly stolen from the sci-fi trilogy that had just wrapped up the year before, but this only adds to the enjoyment. My favorite by far is the moment where Dugeonmaster (see above) sadly alludes to the fact that it was his own failings as a teacher that led to Venger's turning to evil. They don't even have to elaborate on this idea...they know that it is enough of a nudge, nudge, wink, wink to their audience.

Really, the only fear that was realized is that the unicorn (Uni) has not grown more appealing with age. Her incessant bleating still grates a bit on my nerves and she often is more hindrance than help...'cept in that episode with the dragon that shoots fire and ice alternatively. Thank the maker she was there with that wreath of dragon's bane.

Same to same,

Capt. Hendry

Duff-man Saves Television

I really hate (not dislike...hate) reality shows. Perhaps I should embrace them as the greatest exploitive medium to date, but in reality I just find them hard to watch. Ace of Cakes is the exception to this rule. This show is about as real as reality can be on television. There are no challenges or games, there are no eliminations, there are no sob stories, nor are there great makeovers, and most importantly you never watch this show to see people fail. Nay, Ace of Cakes is simply about brilliant, everday people being themselves. The basic story is simple...busy, extremely creative staff of "Charm City Cakes" makes cakes that blow your mind. That is it...you watch to see this group suceed, and you revel in the fact that you get a half hour to hang with this most excellent group from Baltimore.

Duff, the head chef, exudes the best kind of responsible immaturity: he tells the kind of jokes that you tell with your best friends when you are 30 or you are 13. Geoff, the chief sous chef, has a comedic billiance that stems from the mystery of whether he is purposely trying to make you laugh or just being himself. Mary Alice Fallon Yesky, the receptionist and overall organizers for this crew...I cannot say enough about her, this woman has found her calling. Her humor and charm alone make the show worth watching.

The first time I watched this show I wanted to see impressive cakes shaped like King Kong, the Taj Mahal, a Seussian-style wedding cake or... a beaver. While the cakes are amazing to look at, most of the time I am not really paying attention to what they are doing anymore; by now I have seen them laying fondant, or beading with frosting, or using dowels to support the ungainly weight of some pieces. Nope, I am watching because they are letting me sit in on their conversations and just be one of the gang.

Same to Same,

P. H.

Rotting Politics

Last night I watched Joe Dante's first installment from Showtime's "Masters of Horror" series. It was a politically charged story titled Homecoming, which was about soldiers who had died in the line of duty during the Iraq war coming back from the grave to vote. If you think this sounds like a ridiculous plot, then you and I would have been in agreement twenty-four hours ago; but what a difference a day makes.

This episode was actually one of the better ones that this series has produced. It wasn't really at all scary, nor was it that gory; but rather, it was one of the most blatant film criticisms of the Bush administrations and the war in Iraq that I have seen. While horror movies have always had a tendency to symbolically reflect underlying political and social unrest in society, Homecoming makes no bones about what issue it is bringing to the table. This piece has no problem suggesting, if not declaring, that the current engagement in Iraq was based on nothing but "horseshit and elbow grease" provided by the republican spin doctors. Just for good measure, it also sprinkles in some serious suggestions that the outcome of the national election is shaped by the party which has the most power and not by the American voting public.

Besides the strong political message, Dante's work also had another surprise in store for me...one of the most tender zombie scenes I have ever witnessed. His use of a shuffling, decomposing, corpse to elicit the sympathy that Americans feel for those soldiers out there making such a large sacrifice is enough to make your eyes mist up.

There are some viewers that would accuse Dante of putting words in the mouths of the deceased, but the observant viewer will notice that he is careful to account for soldiers, citizens and casualties who both approve(d) and disapprove(d) of our country's actions.

Again, not scary...at least not in a supernatural fictitious way.

Same to same,

Capt. Hendry

Dungeons and Dragons (without Dice)

Father's Day was this past weekend, and your old pal Pat (aka Dad) Hendry scored a pretty sweet gift...maybe.

Perhaps the greatest contribution thus far that DVD technology has brought to the home viewer is the reasonable packaging and pricing of television series to own at home. In fact, it has been so reasonable that I have been able to start rewatching some of the cartoons that I remember fondly from my youth. Thus far both Johnny Quest and DuckTales have not only given me an euphoric sense of deja vu when I revisited them after nearly two decades, but they have also both lived up to (if not surpassed) the greatness that my youthful opinion rated them with.

Now I am going to put those fond childhood memories to the test with this Father's Day gift: the complete early 1980's Dungeons and Dragons series. This is another series that I have a whole slew of half-formed memories about, and most of them are so awesome. Hank with his bow that shot energy bolts, creatures that were both terrifying and mesmerizing, the villain Venger who rode a dark flying horse, and dragons...some with five heads. Yep, this show had it all when I was younger; giant worms, giant spiders, bullfrog men, armies of the dead, weapons of magic, and (of course) a few lessons to be learned about life.

But there is a distinct difference between Dungeons and Dragons, Jonny Quest and DuckTales: that happens to be that D&D has a lot more potential to suck. Even though I think back upon this series with the same amount of affection as the others, I am also a realist. Jonny Quest was one of Hanna Barbara's prime time cartoons, and it was the first cartoon to be aired by all three major networks. Not to mention it has multiple (albeit inferior) reimaginings of the series. DuckTales had the backing of Walt Disney empire and classic characters that had already stood the test of time blended with all the action of Indiana Jones. It was also the success of this cartoon that made it the cornerstone of the Disney afternoon quartet that followed.

Even in my fairly kind childhood memories, I already know that Dungeons and Dragons has some issues that may not translate well to my adult sensibilities. First off, and potentially most devastating, is Uni the unicorn. This "cute" animal character seems thrown in only because some ad exec somewhere said, "this cartoon needs a cute dog or something" to compete with Schooby-Doo or Bandit. Uni really brought none of the depth that these classic canines brought, what she did bring was usually the most frustrating and idiotic of actions cleverly accented by a taunting bleat. There is also the issue of Dungeomaster, who essentially is a watered down Yoda. The show itself had a goal for the characters, which was to escape the fantasy land they were trapped in and return to good ole twentieth century USA; so naturally there are a ton of episodes where they almost, but don't quite make it...that can get annoying. Lastly, I have no idea how the animation will hold up after 25 years.

Still, I absolutely cannot wait to see this series. Just the thought of finally reinforcing or disputing so many potential memories makes me giddy. As I said, the deja vu of these experiences is euphoric, I just hope the series is decent.

Same to same,

Capt. Hendry

You are Entering a Dimension of Less Sight and Sound

I've been steadily working my way through the second season of The Twilight Zone, and the other night I caught an episode that was so different from the bulk of the series it was as if it had been filmed in...well, the Twilight Zone. The episode, titled The Lateness of the Hour, opened with that highly recognizable, anxiety-inducing music, it had the usual stand-up introduction by the even-speaking Rod Serling, and it was what I would deem a "classic" episode, ending with an ironic twist that left the characters and viewers in a state of melancholy, tinged with a bit of hopelessness and sprinkled liberally with loneliness. So what was so utterly bizarre about this episode? The visual quality.

It wasn't poorly shot, or lit or blocked; but, it was actually shot using a different medium, rather than film they used videotape. It doesn't take an experienced eye to notice the difference between these two methods of visual recording: think of the way a soap opera or a game show looks of a lesser video quality than an hour long television drama. While in this day and age videotape as a medium has seen vast improvements, back in the 1960's the qualitative difference was staggering. Film had such a rich quality about it, allowing the viewer to notice all the subtle shifts in grays (since the second season was shot in black and white), and it also gave a nice sense of depth; on the flip side, blacks and whites are very strong on videotape, but the grays get lost and blurred, not to mention that the sense of space and depth feels odd. I guess one way to put it would be to say that watching The Twilight Zone shot in film feels like watching a small movie, while watching it shot on videotape feels like you are watching a play that was taped with a camcorder.

Noticing how much this episode looked like a staged play, I began to wonder if The Twilight Zone was actually doing something fairly innovative by originally airing this episode live. There were few scene changes, and costume changes were minimal as well. There was a slight waver to most of the camera shots, and an observant viewer could even notice the slight shift in the picture as it was switched from camera to camera, which usually denotes some issues with the synchronization and timing of cameras being switched live. I had always felt that this anthology paid a great amount of attention to detail, so I gave CBS the benefit of the doubt and theorized that this must be a live taped special.

I was wrong.

The history behind this episode (according to the handiest web site I know, Wikipedia) is summed up thus: Serling and Co. were running up a budget of roughly $65,000 an episode. In order to save some money, CBS decided to videotape six episodes thereby saving money on editing and film stock. The end result was only $30,000 saved altogether, and all the episodes looked poor when compared to the beauty of the rest of the series. After these six were shot, it was never attempted again for The Twilight Zone.

I haven't watched all six episodes, but the The Lateness of the Hour was pretty good. The acting was solid and I liked the story that was penned by the Serling himself, but sadly it is an episode that is doomed never to garner the same respect as so many others that it rivals. This is all due to what should be regarded as a poor decision that may have saved $5,000 at the time but forevermore ruined The Lateness of the Hour.

Same to same,

Capt. Patrick Hendry

ps. more to come as I watch the other episodes that befell such a sad fate

An Appeal to Hollywood...Less is More

Is it me, or has Hollywood forgotten how to tell a great story in two hours...or (dare I say it?) a scant hour and a half? There was a time when anything in theaters over 120 minutes had better be pretty epic, and the producers made sure that there was an intermission so that the audience could enjoy the last half of the film without suffering full bladders, stiff knees or sore asses. Some films certainly need some time to condense major amounts of material, and they do it well (I'm looking at you Lord of the Rings); but when did comic book films like Spider-Man start needing more than ninety minutes or even two hours? And why does the original King Kong feel so much larger than life when compared to the monstrous three hour remake? If you've got a lot to say, may I suggest the smaller screen? Television is becoming more cinematic all the time, and here is an example where both film and television can achieve great things with the same material.

As I have mentioned before, I am a big fan of the Horatio Hornblower novels written by C.S. Forester, and I must say that I am also a big fan of the film adaptations that have been made of these stories. Up until last night I had only seen the more recent A&E adaptations starring Ioan Gruffudd, but I finally had the opportunity to watch the earlier adaptation that starred Gregory Peck. It is very rare that I feel an equal amount of enjoyment from two very different versions, but these are both delights. Both adaptations have great acting, and the casting is similar enough that bouncing between these two versions feels really comfortable. Both versions also are adept at capturing the lusty, swashbuckling, seafaring adventure that saturates the novels, while at the same time creating compelling dramatic moments that are inherent in times of political and personal unrest.

There was one major difference between these two adaptations, and that is the amount of material covered versus duration. The version filmed in 1951 is a lesson in screenplay adaptation. In a mere two hours, this film covered the major events of three complete novels. While it obviously could not cram in every detail of Hornblower's adventures, I feel that it really accomplished creating an intriguing storyline, character development and arcing relationships. It was well written, and more importantly, well condensed from the novelization. That is not to say that the A&E versions were not, they were excellent adaptations and the amount of detail that they translate from the novel is outstanding; however, after eight different episodes (each clocking in over an hour) again only three novels are touched upon.

There are two great mediums of delivery out there for your stories...one is film, the other is television. I am perfectly willing to sit and follow one large arcing story over an entire season's worth of television (especially cinematic television like Band of Brothers, Deadwood or Rome), but when I watch my movies I like 'em shorter and sweeter. When I sit to watch a television series, I am ready to give you thirteen or even twenty-six hours of my attention, so take your time and pack in the details; but if you decided to make a film, make it tight and treat each little minute with respect, 'cause once you get by that two hour mark I better still be there for a good reason.

Same to same,

Capt. Patrick Henry

Funniest Joke in the World

For those of you who are not familiar, there is a classic Monty Python sketch based around the plot that an English jokesmith creates an anecdote that inevitably results in the death of whomever should hear it. The joke then is employed by the British armed services in WWII. The joke is never heard in it's native tongue, but only in the German translation (worked on at a ratio of only one person per word...as they say, "one translator accidentally saw two words and was in a coma for weeks"....or something along those lines).

Anyway, for years I had been under the assumption that the German joke told in the episode did have an English translation that would result in an actual joke (secretly I expected some classic Vaudevillian one liner that everyone knows). Well, today Wikipedia has given me the answer, and I have survived. Here is the joke in both versions...READER BEWARE!


GERMAN: Wenn ist das Nunstück git und Slotermeyer? Ja! ... Beiherhund das Oder die Flipperwaldt gersput.


ENGLISH: "When is the nowpiece 'git' and 'Slotermeyer'? Yes!... 'Beier'dog the or the 'Flipper'forest 'gersput'."


If you are still reading this now, then you obviously have not expired. That was always the greatest apprehension I had with translating this joke: would it be satisfying and funny enough to literally kill me, or would I be disappointed and still alive after reading the translation. To be honest, I am somewhere in the middle...the power of the joke is somewhat diminished by the fact that there was not a mortal result; however, there are still some pieces of gibberish in there that when properly translated could make this joke lethal.

The more I think about it, the more brilliant it is. I like to assume that those Monty Python guys are pretty damn smart, and had the foresight to know that people would never resist translating "the joke." By making parts of the joke completely untranslatable, they have still maintained the integrity of the joke's ability to cause the instantaneous expiration of any given individual. Sleep soundly in your beds, the joke remains safe.

Strangely enough...I think it makes me laugh more when I hear it in German.

Same to same,

Capt. Patrick Hendry
Commanding Officer Joke Division