For your pleasure, I offer up the following gem of dialogue from Samurai Jack: the meanest, prettiest, sword-swingin-est cartoon I've ever fed my hungry little eyes.
Aku, the shape-shifting master of darkness, tears open a portal in time and sends our man Jack into the future. "Where my evil is law!" -Aku
Jack, naturally, is immediately clobbered by a flying car. This is the future, right? He falls and is clobbered by more flying cars until one police-enforcement lookin' vehicle begins to fire at Jack. In a heart-pounding action sequence, the samurai regains his footing, leaps onto the police vehicle, and severs its front end, proceeding to jump down flying cars to the ground as if they were hop-scotch squares. In the junk-alleys of the terrestrial level of the future, a gigantic, spike-wheeled trash compacter threatens to overtake Jack. Nimbly, he climbs its wheels and arrives safely by the streetside. Three curious creatures await him--one in red tones, a squat blue one with a round head, and a gangly green guy with, for lack of better explanation, a bubbling lava lamp for a head.
Beat, as they stare at him. Begin today's Gem of Dialogue:
[wild cheering and gesticulation, "That was bad, man!"]
Red: Yo, Jack! That was some AWEsome shown!
Blue: I ain't never feel the punk moves like that, Jack.
Green: Jack was all ricocheticky jumpadelic!
Red: A hiz-eck yeah, prodigiously acrobotastic.
Blue: Word, word, but then like, when Jack pulled that swizz-ord and was all like, SWING, SWACK, SWOOP, man, right through the car! Swick-attack-whack and spoil out the back, Jaaaaaaack!
Green: Aw yeah, yeah, and it was all shviiiiiiiiiing, PLOOM! Man, ain't that flunky crunker?
Red: Yo then my man just like lands all coolish style, like, "No sweatin' Joe!"
Green: B-b-b-but then that gunna-runna ramalama-lama, and that trashin' all munchin' and crunchin' and snack mixin'
Blue: Under that fat superfragicalilistic tistic tire, yo.
Red: Yeah but Jack's just like, "Word! Let me get some tire," grab, ZOOOP, "I'm out, Joe."
[Talking over each other]
Jack: Thank you. Where am I?
And that just about sums it up, folks. More Jack to come in the future. In the meantime, check out these words of wisdom from Beloved Yoga Teacher:
"The sides of the body aren't identical twins. They're much more like a brother and sister."
Truism, yo.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Wonderfalls
As a sucker for novelty, I'm gonna have to start with the series I'm currently in the middle of. Wonderfalls was co-created by Brian Fuller (and some other peeps, but his is the name that seems to stick to all of these shows), the guy who continued on to bring us Dead Like Me and Pushing Daisies. Interestingly enough, executively produced by Tim Minear, who I buh-leeve is one of the Heroes guys (shudder). In total they produced 14 episodes, but only aired 4 before getting the axe which, dammit, is a shame. I guess understandable. This show doesn't have quite the perfectly buffed veneer that characterizes the studio display room. You know--at times it trots instead of gallops, risks inconsistency by stylizing episodes along different genre lines, and frequently relies on humor of the absurd. All quirks I adore, and which represent a huge potential in the medium, but the science of network television says delivering the same, not-too-challenging fare week in and week out is the money shot. Thank god for HBO, amiright or amiright?
Jaye is a wicked cool and disaffected 20-something living in a trailer and working retail at a tourist spot in Niagara Falls when inanimate critters start to speak to her, giving her instructions which inevitably lead to the warming of hearts and further knowledge of the self. And wait a second, what is with the unisex names for female protagonists in all these Fuller shows? Jaye, George (with sister Reggie), and Chuck. End aside.
Me, I got hooked when a chicken on the back of a hairpiece spoke to Jaye and said "Destroy Gretchen Hall" (or whatever her name was, sorry I'm not much of a detail guy). I'm by myself in my basement laughing tears into my eyes and smacking my thighs. I really slapped my thighs, I'm not kidding. Yeah the line loses its potency out of context (up until this point, the stuffed animals and whatnot have been giving kind, gentle, and somewhat obtuse advice) but this shit just tickles me. And the show is full of scenes that just pop with humor of the absurd. Lines like "I had some time to organize my thoughts while you were in a coma, and I have a business proposition for you" take these busted situations in stride and just roll with 'em. Or a kind nun in a crisis of faith wielding a knife over poor Jaye to cut the demons from her... it can get as weird as you want, but in the end is calmly incorporated into familiar character dramas. And it's all cool, because the unexplained talking objects have accounted for all twists of fate and freak occurrences.
Maybe my spot is soft because I, similarly to Jaye, am a happy-go-lucky need nothin' but a roof and three meals although at times societal pressures make me insecure about my position in life kind of person. But this show is totally strange and worthwhile, and I love that I can get my goopy shmaltz without having to feel bad about it because it's relentlessly peppered with shocks of absurdity.
Jaye is a wicked cool and disaffected 20-something living in a trailer and working retail at a tourist spot in Niagara Falls when inanimate critters start to speak to her, giving her instructions which inevitably lead to the warming of hearts and further knowledge of the self. And wait a second, what is with the unisex names for female protagonists in all these Fuller shows? Jaye, George (with sister Reggie), and Chuck. End aside.
Me, I got hooked when a chicken on the back of a hairpiece spoke to Jaye and said "Destroy Gretchen Hall" (or whatever her name was, sorry I'm not much of a detail guy). I'm by myself in my basement laughing tears into my eyes and smacking my thighs. I really slapped my thighs, I'm not kidding. Yeah the line loses its potency out of context (up until this point, the stuffed animals and whatnot have been giving kind, gentle, and somewhat obtuse advice) but this shit just tickles me. And the show is full of scenes that just pop with humor of the absurd. Lines like "I had some time to organize my thoughts while you were in a coma, and I have a business proposition for you" take these busted situations in stride and just roll with 'em. Or a kind nun in a crisis of faith wielding a knife over poor Jaye to cut the demons from her... it can get as weird as you want, but in the end is calmly incorporated into familiar character dramas. And it's all cool, because the unexplained talking objects have accounted for all twists of fate and freak occurrences.
Maybe my spot is soft because I, similarly to Jaye, am a happy-go-lucky need nothin' but a roof and three meals although at times societal pressures make me insecure about my position in life kind of person. But this show is totally strange and worthwhile, and I love that I can get my goopy shmaltz without having to feel bad about it because it's relentlessly peppered with shocks of absurdity.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Howdy
Let us begin simply. I am creating yet another this blog to glorify Gilmore Girls, one of the most surprising, lovely, and heartwarming byproducts to ever drain from the sewage tube of network television.
MULLIGAN! MULLIGAN!
... Ahem. I would like to announce the opening of my most recent blogging effort, through which I hope to make everyone love yoga and Lorelai Gilmore as much as I do.
Shit.
What I mean, is... I watch a lot of television. Not TV teevee, DVDs of televised serialized fiction. I also do lots of yoga. Now, there is a high likelihood I will never:
a) become a guru
b) write for television, or
c) do something useful like raise eggplants
and AS SUCH, I feel like the agency granted me by the miracle that is LIFE would be going to waste if I didn't make something of what I think about all day. Drivel. I'll be making drivel, which I would like you to imagine is the DELICIOUS ice cream topping it sounds like it should be.
I blame my penchant for the TV series on Charles Dickens and my ex-girlfriend who made me watch Sex and the City with her. Charles Dickens actually has nothing to do with it besides the fact he wrote his novels in INSTALLMENTS (which made a really strong impression on me in middle school), and the other thing to note is that, maybe two or three episodes into SatC, I was sitting the girlie down and bugging her to watch it with me. So at the end of the day I guess there is nothing to blame my obsession on but my animal nature. Grrrrrr.
But seriously, think about it, and what is there not to love? Once you've cracked that eggshell, you can get from zero to yolky empathy in NO TIME FLAT. The teaser is rolling, and you're already all "Holy shit McNulty is a fucking psycho," or "Will that goofball Chuck ever get it together?" Instant dramatic tension. Sometimes in a series, you have to wait sixty hours for the real character payoff. I get that some people don't have the patience, but if you can hold out long enough, man, that shit gets tantrically delightful. You can watch as much or as little as you want. You can watch while you stretch. You can watch while you iron. You can watch while you daydream of watching the rest, and some of 'em just keep going and going and going...
I'm not quite sure how the yoga fits in yet. Yoga gets ingrained in life at a pretty deep level when you spend some serious time with it (just like everything else) but the theory and whatnot behind it presumes a lot more than just that. And it's all about the body, and man you could spend your entire LIFE trying to figure that shit out and never get past the hip joints. Maybe it will just be an addendum at the end of posts. Time will tell, only time will tell.
So tune in soon. I expect I'll be tackling either Gilmore Girls, Battlestar Galactica, or Dead Like Me first. And yeah, yeah, yeah... I loved The Wire.
MULLIGAN! MULLIGAN!
... Ahem. I would like to announce the opening of my most recent blogging effort, through which I hope to make everyone love yoga and Lorelai Gilmore as much as I do.
Shit.
What I mean, is... I watch a lot of television. Not TV teevee, DVDs of televised serialized fiction. I also do lots of yoga. Now, there is a high likelihood I will never:
a) become a guru
b) write for television, or
c) do something useful like raise eggplants
and AS SUCH, I feel like the agency granted me by the miracle that is LIFE would be going to waste if I didn't make something of what I think about all day. Drivel. I'll be making drivel, which I would like you to imagine is the DELICIOUS ice cream topping it sounds like it should be.
I blame my penchant for the TV series on Charles Dickens and my ex-girlfriend who made me watch Sex and the City with her. Charles Dickens actually has nothing to do with it besides the fact he wrote his novels in INSTALLMENTS (which made a really strong impression on me in middle school), and the other thing to note is that, maybe two or three episodes into SatC, I was sitting the girlie down and bugging her to watch it with me. So at the end of the day I guess there is nothing to blame my obsession on but my animal nature. Grrrrrr.
But seriously, think about it, and what is there not to love? Once you've cracked that eggshell, you can get from zero to yolky empathy in NO TIME FLAT. The teaser is rolling, and you're already all "Holy shit McNulty is a fucking psycho," or "Will that goofball Chuck ever get it together?" Instant dramatic tension. Sometimes in a series, you have to wait sixty hours for the real character payoff. I get that some people don't have the patience, but if you can hold out long enough, man, that shit gets tantrically delightful. You can watch as much or as little as you want. You can watch while you stretch. You can watch while you iron. You can watch while you daydream of watching the rest, and some of 'em just keep going and going and going...
I'm not quite sure how the yoga fits in yet. Yoga gets ingrained in life at a pretty deep level when you spend some serious time with it (just like everything else) but the theory and whatnot behind it presumes a lot more than just that. And it's all about the body, and man you could spend your entire LIFE trying to figure that shit out and never get past the hip joints. Maybe it will just be an addendum at the end of posts. Time will tell, only time will tell.
So tune in soon. I expect I'll be tackling either Gilmore Girls, Battlestar Galactica, or Dead Like Me first. And yeah, yeah, yeah... I loved The Wire.
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