Orange Is the New Black: The best show on TV, network or no?*

OINB is the first Netflix-produced show that I barreled through, feeling like I needed to watch each next episode as soon as I finished the last. Sure, I like House of Cards, but I'm okay taking my time with it, and the less said about the return of Arrested Development probably the better, though it is getting moderately more entertaining now that I'm about five episodes in. And I haven't even tried Hemlock Grove yet. But OINB was much more compelling from episode one, and is easily the best new show on TV this season.

The two shows it makes me think about most -- not in relation to the content, necessarily -- are Sons of Anarchy and The Wire. SoA because of the deep-dive look into a subculture, in this case women's prison, that doesn't get much attention and/or is easily stereotyped. And The Wire because, while not nearly as intense and novelistic as that masterwork, OINB pays attention to its (mutltiracial) characters and lets them feed the story, allowing them to breathe and become, in nearly every case, more fully rounded. Even minor characters, like Crazy Eyes, who falls into the "oh, that psycho bitch" trope in early episodes, is given multiple reveals and scenes that let you know there's more to her story than what you're initially shown.

(I'm sure I'm also reminded of The Wire because of the presence of Pablo Schreiber-- a Seattlite even! and brother to Leiv, who knew? -- the low-rent Ben Affleck himself, one Nicky Sbotka from The Wire's (amazing) season 2.)

The other great thing is that, obviously, the majority of the roles are played by women. I can't remember -- has there ever been? -- the last time this many women had speaking parts in a show. And not only that, but the diversity of characters and opinions and ages that are given airtime. And while men are present and in positions of power, the show is much more about the culture that has been created in this closed-off prison universe than it is about these women's relationships with the opposite sex. There's no need to even turn to the Bechdel test here.

Part of the freedom that having it on Netflix offers is, again, the chance for the thing to just slow down and tell whatever story it or its characters wants to tell. Sure, the throughline is the journey of the Piper character and how going to prison upends her life and how that ripples out to affect everyone in her vicinity, but because it's set in a prison -- a place where people have somewhat ill-defined jobs and roles but not like a workplace comedy or an ER or something like that -- there's a lot of just hanging out and talking.

That said, it's a far from perfect endeavor. There's a joke -- or at least the punchline to a joke -- repeated by a number of characters that's not in the least bit funny (and not just because I'm sensitive to the use of "retarded" as part of it) that's come up a few too many times. And is it in Jason Biggs' contract that he has to masturbate onscreen? 'Cause I don't really ever need to see that again. And there are times when some of the characterization changes just for the sake of plots, especially in the last minutes of the finale. For all the attention that's obviously been paid to the ladies on the inside of the prison, both Larry and Piper's parents -- and especially Piper's mother -- are pretty horrible old/rich/Jew/WASP stereotypes. Though the one major scene given to Piper's mother evincing that stereotype is used to good effect in order to demonstrate what seems to be the theme of the show, which is that these women, these people, are us but for the grace of whatever higher power you might believe in.

And good on Netflix for greenlighting season 2 even before this aired -- they obviously knew they had something good on their hands, and viewership has apparently been through the roof. So yay. Hope season 2 comes along quickly.

Tastee's my favorite!

*if only because Game of Thrones, Parks and Rec, Parenthood, Breaking Bad and Justified aren't on the air right now. But it's in good company with those shows, no doubt.

Unintentional Badass: How "A Good Day to Die Hard" Fundamentally Misunderstands John McClane

I finally got around to watching A Good Day to Die Hard this weekend, and... ugh. I knew there was trouble afoot as soon as the thing opened -- and I know this is going to sound ridiculous -- and the aspect ratio was 16:9 as opposed to 2.35/2.40:1 like the previous movies had been (that and the ultra-cheesy opening credits titles that screamed '90s TV movie). I mean, there's just something about breaking that tradition that just didn't feel right -- you've gotta try to respect what's come before, right? -- but it was a good indication of the travesty -- TRAVESTY, I say! -- that was to come.

I write all this with full understanding that I'm talking "travesty" here in the sense where I'm offended that a giant corporation 25 or so years ago optioned the rights to and then in league with a director, actor, and huge crew, created an iconic character that I (and many, many others) grew to love (and even name our kids after) and have since then exploited that love to their own financial ends, so, you know, grain of salt and all that.

And the thing we have to start with is the one thing that should always, always work in these movies, which is the Bruce Willis. I never thought I'd say this, but I think it might be time for Bruce to be done with the McClane, at least if he's going to be as uninvolved in the development -- and I use that word loosely; I don't really need McClane to "develop," but I need him to be recognizable as John McClane in more than name only -- of the character as he was in this. I get that, you know, it's a new screenwriter, a new director, etc, but Bruce is the constant to this franchise, and he of all people should know who this McClane guy is by now. And looking back on my review of Live Free or Die Hard, for all that movie's faults -- and there were many -- at least they got McClane right.

So the definition of John McClane is that this is a guy, kind of a fuckup for the most part, who finds himself inadvertently in a boatload of trouble and rises to the occasion, all the while remaining in a state of relative disbelief that this shit is happening to him (again and again and again):

In other news, now I really want to watch Die Harder right this second.Good Day was so bad, it makes DH2 look like a piece of pop genius, when it's really the third best of the five. Really, DH5 was so bad, it makes me want to watch Live Free again and revel in how relatively not bad that one actually was.

My first thought, even as I was watching it, was that rather than study the previous movies, it was like the screenwriter and director got about halfway through the Die Hard wikipedia page, shrugged, and said, "I think I understand this. Let's make a movie!"
So how/why does DH5 go so seriously wrong? Okay, it starts with something that should never be seen: McClane at the firing range, with his partner (?) telling "not bad, grandpa" jokes to establish that John's old but he's still got it. No. Just no. John McClane does not go to the firing range. John McClane, on a good day, wakes up in a crappy little East Bronx apartment somewhere and finishes the beer that's sitting on his bedside table. On a bad day, he's walking out of a bar and squinting his way through the haze. I can totally get behind the "I'm too old for this shit" Murtaugh vibe they were trying for, but there are about 1,000 different ways to demonstrate this without having John doing target practice. And it's just downhill from there. This "McClane" has no doubt. He has no fear. He barrels his 4x4 off an overpass like he KNOWS he's going to be able to drive onto a semi and over a traffic jam of cars without even an "I sure hope I know what I'm doing" crack. All I wanted was one look of self-doubt, one "holy shit, I can't believe I'm doing this" and all would've been well with the world.

Instead, we get John McClane: Terminator and douchebag dad. Seriously, at least three times, he talks about how what McClanes do is kill bad guys, like it's no big thing. And when his sidekick kid is injured, does John show any kind of humanity? No, he just tells the dude to buck up and stop crying like some action movie cliche. At some point I would've thought Willis would've stepped in prior to filming to try to get some of this fixed -- this is the dude who famously got on the phone and asked who the second choice to play John McClane would be at some point during DH4 filming -- but I guess he was just looking for the easy paycheck and a trip to Europe with this outing. Which is sad, because Bruce still does good work -- see Looper for an example -- when he wants to. I wish he had given half of his Looper energy to this, his signature role.

I really could go on and on about the many ways this movie just goes wrong -- from the slo-mo action to the color palette chosen to the sickly sweet orchestral overlay while John and family walk off into the sunset at the end, or even the half-baked homage/rip-off of this great moment:

Not. Allowed. This is sacrosanct!

Already I've probably spent more time thinking about how to make this movie more of a Die Hard flick than the filmmakers apparently did. (And yes, I have a pitch for DH6, not that this should ever happen. I am finally ready for there to be no more Die Hards, and, like the Indiana Jones series, to tell my children -- when it comes time for them to watch these, and oh, man, I can't wait for that glorious, glorious day -- that there are only three in the series.)

Holy crap, but somebody say "NO" to Peter Jackson

Finally sat down to try to watch The Hobbit.

Twenty-five minutes into it, we're still in Bilbo's fucking house, and the dwarves have done one song-and-dance routine, complete with bouncy jigs, and have just finished singing some pirate shanty that at least was moderately plot-related.

Digging Martin Freeman, always a pleasure to see Ian McKellan in the gray robes, but these dwarves are not doing it for me, no matter how much they try to turn the leader into an Aragorn-esque heartthrob. And what's up with the one supposed dwarf dude who has no makeup on whatsoever?

That, my friend, is not a dwarf. That's one of Bodhi's crew from Point Break. Completely jarring compared to the giant proboscis (and beard) they put on this fine fellow:

Fifty-two minutes into it, it's time to turn the damn thing off after Gandalf stares into the distance reminiscing about Radagast the Brown and suddenly we cut to some dude (again, more dwarf-like than surfer boy up there, but he's apparently some kind of wizard) with bird shit on his head trying to resuscitate hedgehogs. I do not have three hours of my life to give to this movie.

This is all said as someone who's watched the extended versions of the LOTR trilogy more than once. But since the multi-ending fiasco that was (admittedly, pretty deserved and mostly worth the wait) the last 20 minutes or so of Return of the King, I've found PJ's output since pretty much unwatchable. He's blinded by his love of the source material -- and maybe the financial benefit of splitting one children's book into three giant movies (which is ironic, considering that one of the eight-minute prologue pieces in the first Hobbit flick is about the dangerous sickness that comes along with hording gold) -- and obviously no one has the cojones to tell him that he needs to cut some of this bullshit out. Nor, based on the box office for the first, and the promise that the second will actually, you know, feature a dragon, will anybody step up anytime soon.

But I think I'm done with the Jackson until he delivers something under 120 minutes in a single shot. In fact, I'll promise right now to purchase The Hobbit: Condensed Version if WB decides to release it.