Ian_Jules Reviews

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes: The Three Gables (1994) Season 1, Episode 1

"Who is this Woman with No Eyes?": the Science of Deduction and the Art of Melodrama

[7/10 · 9 September 2020]

It is interesting to note that several reviews describe this episode of Jeremy Brett's Holmes series as particularly embodying melodrama rather than the detective story. However, both ingredients are part of Doyle's original Holmes formula, and in some ways each relies upon the other to flesh it out.

Holmes' repeated condemnation, throughout the canon, of Watson's "florid, romantic" storytelling is not just stereotypical grousing; it reflects, meta-narratively, the structure of Doyle's stories. In order to craft puzzles that intrigue the reader and show off Holmes' detective skills, we need some sort of story stringing together the deductions and observations with human interest. From the Speckled Band to the Baskervilles to Moriarty and all points in between, Doyle's stories are full of fanciful motifs, larger-than-life characters, and broad--if concise-- expressions of enduring themes and human dilemmas.

Whether we're dealing with an Indian swamp adder, magical monkey glands, or an Andaman islander armed with poisoned arrows, these stories would have thrilled Strand Magazine readers not just with Holmes' seemingly superhuman powers, but also with many shades of passion and exoticism.

Peter Hammond's entries in the Granada series succeed particularly well, for me, because they consistently capture in visual and dramatic terms this distinctive style. Granted: the "Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes" cycle, which turned out to be Granada's last season of Holmes adaptations, turns this melodrama factor up to 11 at times, but it was always present--and sometimes pretty overt--in the source material. Yet the broad, vividly colored presentation does not in any way diminish the human truths being conveyed in these stories.

The Three Gables does have some particularly lush trappings, with its continental backdrop of courtly love, masquerade balls, and almost impossibly cruel rejection leading to grand gestures of heartbreak and revenge. Yet the whole enterprise is staged with such panache, such stylistic acuity from the director, designers, and stellar cast, that the excesses make sense and form a vivid, ensconcing story experience when all the artistes are in sync and the production choices working in sympathy with one another.

Although not a perfect production, The Three Gables strikes the right tone more often than not, with Hammond's dynamic, vivid cinematography treating perfectly a teleplay that could hardly have been visualized as anything other than florid. Dazzling wardrobe design in keeping with the period settings joins forces with the camera to fill out the episode's bold palette. And as always in Hammond's entries, the camera becomes or evokes our (mind's) eye: drawn to shape, color, and movement like the human eye, but with a diegetic capacity to immediately and consciously train those impulses in the interests of constructing and following a narrative.

The Incredible Hulk: Of Guilt, Models and Murder (1978) Season 1, Episode 5

Holmes and the Hulk

[8/10 · 26 August 2020]

The Incredible Hulk has a legacy of "dark" episodes sprinkled throughout the series' run (Deathmask, Veteran, among others) and this episode may be the first to take steps, however subtle, in that direction, as David Banner seriously contemplates a possibility that his gargantuan green alter ego have killed someone. Emerging from a metamorphosis with a young woman dead in his arms, David must solve the mystery of what really happened to her.

The psychological tension plays effectively on the fear of blacking out (or in this case, hulking out), only to wake up with no idea where you are or what you may have done, the loss of control over one's actions, and the psychological disruption of sudden, acute memory loss.

Unfortunately, the whodunit structure is somewhat undermined, as the episode cheats a bit with multiple "flashbacks" showing various accounts of what *could* have happened, with nothing to clearly differentiate whether we're being told lies or truth. Nonetheless, the ideas are engaging and the direction solid, clear, and attentive to defining some intriguing characters in spite of the script's structural issues.

Curiously, a couple of reviews allude to poor acting without going into specifics, and it's a claim that could do with some elaboration when the supporting cast includes Loni Anderson and Jeremy Brett. Since Brett would, several years later, find his career-defining role as Sherlock Holmes in the Granada TV series based on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's stories about the greatest detective on earth, it's a striking coincidence that Brett stars in one of the Hulk's few mystery-based episodes. Brett is suave and wields a commanding presence in his character, certainly a stand-out among the Hulk's guest stars, and perhaps his turn would get more attention if not for the fact that Anderson is such a huge name in American TV.

I was a Holmes and Brett fan long before I came to the Hulk, so it was uncanny at first to see him transplanted from Victorian London to play opposite the big green guy, but Brett is well-cast and usual reliable, delicious self, albeit liberated from Victorian period wardrobe in favor of 70s leisure suits.

Even if you aren't particularly a fan of the Hulk, the episode may be worth watching if you're interested in seeing Brett in a different, far flung role.

John & Yoko: Above Us Only Sky (2018 TV Movie)

"Yes" is the Answer: Guided Tour of Life at Tittenhurst circa 1971

[8/10 · 26 July 2020]

A lovely--and loving--portrait of John&Yoko during during the recording of Imagine and the transitional period that carried them from the English countryside to NYC, this documentary film has plenty to offer well-versed Lennon/Ono fans, and is certainly worth a look for newcomers in search of readily available material exploring Lennon's life and music.

Private footage of Lennon and Ono-- recording the Imagine album at their home studio, relaxing with Lennon's son Julian and various friends, and generally making the most of life on the sumptuous Tittenhurst estate-- is extensive, more than has been shown before, and this is likely the key asset for aficionados. Those who know the narrative and the people involved will recognize most of the talking heads, but the best insights come from the session guys: Jim Keltner, Klaus Voorman, and Alan White offer warm, solid perspectives on the music on the atmosphere of the studio. One only wishes George Harrison, who is seen in the archival footage working out his solo for How Do you Sleep? and, in a lovely moment, seeking Yoko's input on which acoustic guitar tone she preferred for another cut, were alive to contribute his recollections.

The documentary contextualizes the album, and John & Yoko's relationship, in the political and countercultural zeitgeist of the times, giving more or less equal attention to Yoko's concept art as to Lennon's music, showing how their bodies of work overlap and complement one another. Audiences will be divided over Yoko's work, as well as the political implications of John & Yoko's message. But the message, which carries from the music to the film, is a life-affirming and hopeful one, grounded in a vision of peace, communication, and human harmony.

Some of the comments on this site referring to the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor are dramatically and depressingly missing the point. There are no innocent parties in war, and Pearl Harbor is not an excuse, morally speaking, for the suffering of many innocent Japanese people. Most of us cannot say that we have experienced the impacts of war first hand, as Yoko did in her childhood. The point is to learn from her experiences, not hand-wave them because "we didn't start it".

Human suffering is equally traumatic and atrocious, whether it's Pearl harbor, the London Blitz, or atomic bombs. Disregarding this truth in favor of preserving our comfortable historical narratives is not simply inhumane. Valuing geopolitical rivalry and national pride over human lives leads directly to the perpetuation of conflict and cycles of vengeance.

In the words of songwriter and activist Tommy Sands, "Peace is the prize for those who are daring". Dare to imagine.

Arthur: Mr. Ratburn and the Special Someone/The Feud (2019) Season 22, Episode 1

Children of Equality

[9/10 · 28 May 2020]

Just a voice of support: I can hardly express my appreciation and pride in seeing PBS Kids and the producers of Arthur create this story, in which the city of Elwood celebrates Mr. Ratburn's marriage to his boyfriend. I hope this episode will come to be seen as a landmark in children's television, following in the legacy cvof Sesame Street's "Goodbye Mr. Hooper" special and the Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood episodes on conflict and peace.

Having been on the air now for 24 years, Arthur has earned its standing as a flagship title and crucial voice in children's educational TV. After the dust-up years ago in which in an episode of the spinoff Post Cards for Buster was withdrawn for featuring a real life lesbian couple with children, this beautifully written and impeccably voice-acted episode resolves a bit of unfinished business and serves as a timely reassertion of the role of educational media in nurturing young minds to make our society smarter, fairer, and more loving.

Clifford the Big Red Dog: Two's Company/Fairweather Friends (2001) Season 1, Episode 36

All Creatures Great and Small

[7/10 · 22 September 2019]

I was a PBS kid: Mr. Rogers, Sesame Street, Reading Rainbow, Bill Nye, Wishbone, and others were staples for myself and my siblings. By the time this Clifford series appeared, featuring the voice of the late and sadly missed John Ritter as the titular crimson canine, I was on the upper end of its target demographic. Nonetheless, it was a fun diversion when nothing else was on and a nice reminder of the picture books I had devoured when I was slightly younger (not to mention a tangential link to the large, red Irish setter that was my beloved childhood pet and, for a time, probably my greatest friend).

As educational TV for pre-adolescents goes, "Clifford" was probably above average as an engaging device to teach emotional and social intelligence. The episode "Fair Weather Friends" sticks in my mind purely because of a small, clever moment that has nothing to do with the main plot thread or themes of the show, but which I nonetheless find unaccountably amusing.

Because protagonist Clifford and his friends are stand-ins for the young viewers, they spend much of their free time playing schoolyard games and doing the stuff kids do. In this instance, T-Bone and Mac, being regular-sized dogs, defeat Clifford at tag by exploiting his size against him.

It's a tiny moment, a gag used to open the storyline and then promptly forgotten. Most viewers probably wouldn't think twice of it. It's sublime, though, both because of its intrinsic whimsy and because it does reflect the ways in which children, while still learning empathy and social consciousness, will often look for ways to one-up each other: "you may be the biggest, but I'm quicker!" The anarchic spirit of exploration allows them to perform these little maneuvers on one another and, very often, bounce right back to being the most earnest of friends immediately afterward.

Clifford, being the gentle giant, consistently the warmest of the dog characters, and the epitome of the laid back "good guy", takes all of this ribbing in his immense stride. However, it is a neat reversal to witness our hero taken momentarily off balance, as he loses command of the situation at the paws of the devious duo.

One gets a vague glimmer, from Clifford's silent response, that it's not the first or last time for this sort of thing. Although Clifford's good nature never flags, the sensitive viewer may get to experience a moment of unexpected empathy in considering that Clifford's size, which is at first glance an obvious asset (it's what makes him so cool, right?), can turn into a disadvantage in situations that are quite commonplace yet puckishly unpredictable.

Of course, the whimsy is helped by his companions as a dual personification of the trickster. There's absolutely no malevolence in T-Bone and Mac, but they can't resist the occasional opportunity to get under Clifford's paws. What makes him a hero is how unfazed he is by their wily japes: he has a seemingly boundless capacity for seeing the good in other people (and dogs), perhaps because he picks up the reflection of his own compassion and generosity.

Then again, it is just a children's show about talking dogs, one of whom is roughly the size of a house. Maybe I'm getting carried away and reading too much into a moment of blind whimsy. Yet insofar as the core of the story must be the bond between these dogs, I don't think the creators are insulting their young viewers' intellect. They know that characters are a foundation of narrative and the way to kids' hearts and minds.

The relationships presented between our canine hero and his colorful companions are multi-layered enough to ring true, sufficiently bold and funny to to engage young ones, and intriguing enough to warrant occasional revisiting even from the (relatively) more mature intellect.

Mr. Bean: Back to School Mr. Bean (1994) Season 1, Episode 11

Class Clown

[7/10 · 20 August 2019]

Mr. Bean participates in an adult education center's open house, where he schools the students and teachers alike and, ultimately, is schooled himself.

The tone in this one is a little less consistent than in some others, as the final segment involves an unlikely series of events through which Bean's car is unceremoniously mowed over by an army tank. This event is treated with a level of pathos not often seen in the series. Bean is himself quite crushed at the sight of his beloved yellow cooper mini (itself something of a supporting character throughout the series) flattened and mangled.

The combination of Rowan Atkinson's silent performance, emoting Bean's shock and grief through nothing other than face and gesture, and Howard Goodall's almost impossibly sympathetic scoring is really quite affecting. The playback audience, as captured on the laugh track, sounds slightly taken aback and uncharacteristically subdued, as if not entirely sure how to process the moment.

What's even weirder is that this comes directly after a genuinely outrageous and uproarious segment in which Bean steals back his own trousers, having accidentally swapped clothes with another man in a changing room following a P.E. class. Again, Goodall's incidental score is distinctive and sublimely helps to create the fabric of the moment. And again, Atkinson's performance sells the outright ridiculous.

The other highlight is somewhat of an anomaly within the series: perhaps the only occasion on which a guest star is, in her own way, as memorable a character as Bean. For the most part, the job of the supporting cast in these episodes is to be the straight man/woman/person to Mr. Bean's antics (this also means they represent the average observer--i.e. us, the audience, as we might respond if we came across someone acting like Bean in real life situations). This is quite effective, as far as it goes.

Playing an uninhibited and tactile Francophone drawing instructor, Suzanne Bertish holds her own beautifully opposite Bean. She comes within a whisker's breadth of stealing her scenes, but still leaves enough space for Atkinson's character to regain control. Bertish's character is (relatively) refreshingly unfazed by Bean's eccentric behavior, perhaps because she's equally otherworldly in her own right. More to the point, she's almost unthinkably funny.

Given that Bean is and always will be Atkinson's show above all else, this is especially admirable. The sauce is a blend of comic timing and a remarkably full-bodied realization of the character (similar to what Atkinson does, actually). The resulting performance is both bold and expertly balanced.

So there are highs and lows here. The ending is a bit of a downer. Its jarring and uncharacteristically sharp tonal shift doesn't necessarily pay off. But where it excels, it has no equal. Mr. Bean's voyage into further education ultimately produces a masterclass in visual performance and sketch comedy, regardless of its occasional aspirations to a larger character arc.

Howard Goodall is the (ironically) silent partner in the realization of Bean. The composer seems to be intuitively synchronized to the character, inside his head even. This metronomic accuracy drains no emotional dynamic, but does make for some uncanny resonance between the visual images (primarily Atkinson's) and the Goodall's running instrumental commentary. Given Bean's (deserved) reputation as a visual comedy, the importance of the music is both self-evidently fitting and subtly ironic.

Poirot: Appointment with Death (2008) Season 11, Episode 4

Skullduggery

[7/10 · 17 August 2019]

I once had a review of this title up under an old account, which I have since replaced. My feelings aren't quite as they were then but I still rather like this installment. As full disclosure, I've read a few of Christie's novels but this isn't one of them.

I do understand, from the debate online a few years ago and from research, that the plot is quite dramatically altered. But I think what we're presented with ends up working quite well on its own terms. There is a strong central drama and themes playing out through the episode. It's dark but a powerful human tale. The adaptation is bursting with red herrings, perhaps a bit too much for its own good.

The problem with subplots, really, is not that they exist, but when they feel forced within the story structure. When I first viewed the episode, I felt this was a problem, but returning to it subsequently, it is less cluttered and/or awkward than I remembered. If anything, I don't find the John the Baptist's skull deception subplot all that convincing, even with Mark Gatiss's earnest performance as Tim Curry's son. The most effective one is that of the rejected adoptive child, who didn't' want to kill the victim but instead to make her suffer while she lived. The business involving the nun and slavery trade is a bit out of left field, but carried off nicely and gets points for originality.

Besides the story, the film really is a delight in other ways, with beautiful camera work showing the appealing locales and color pallet of the setting. Music and atmosphere are developed throughout and there's plenty of fine acting. David Suchet never disappoints as Poirot. Cheryl Campbell, even though she doesn't have much time or opportunity to flesh out her character, she makes a powerful impression. Her husband is played by Tim Curry, whose performance really engages the viewer's sympathy and in fact managed to convince me that he genuinely cares for this unpleasant woman. Also excellent is Zoe Boyle as Ginny.

Of the characters, the only possible dud may be the nanny (Angela Pleasance). She plays an important part in the story, but doesn't get that much to do. The character has been described as pantomime and is certainly underdeveloped, mostly relegated to distant gazes and a genera listless affect that makes you wonder why she was considered worth killing. I did also think one final twist involving the killers' response to the intervention of justice was a bit extreme and implausible, but also in the spirit of previous Christie narratives.

If you are adamant about the adaptations remaining faithful to the source, this one will not be anywhere near a favorite. On its own merits, though, I think it's a pretty effective film with a good central story. Even if you dislike the adaptation, the other aspects of the filmmaking are clearly of high quality and good taste. Much like Murder on the Orient Express--a highly memorable film I would rate more highly than this one.

Lastly, a brief word on Poirot's religious convictions in these later installments. Some of the response to this has been excessive. Although not a particularly religious individual myself, I don't feel that the character's faith is given heavy-handed treatment and these are by no means religious films. It remains particularly unobtrusive here, taking backseat to a much more compelling story about families and in particular the relationships between parents and children-- just how profoundly the one impacts the other, how much it means to be responsible for the nurture and well-being of another person.

Inspector Morse: The Wench Is Dead (1998) Season 8, Episode 4

Time of Death

[9/10 · 4 July 2019]

Another one that deserves better than its 7.5 average, but the fact that this rating looks low compared to the other episodes shows the consistency and enduring quality of Morse. I guess it's been punished a bit for its deviations from formula: attending a convention on criminal justice history, Morse suddenly collapses and is hospitalized. He spends most of the episode in bed, attempting to solve a murder committed in 1859 for which believes several men were wrongly executed.

Did I mention Lewis is absent? Instead, Morse's boss Chief Supt. Strange (James Grout in amusing recurrent role) assigns a new constable to check in on the recovering Morse and cater to his whims. Strange probably just wants to keep P.C. Kershaw (Matthew Finney) from getting under his feet. Prior to this, Strange was apparently using Kershaw as a glorified errand boy ("Buy a bunch of grapes and a paperback novel!" he orders as he prepares to visit Morse's sickbed), so there must not have been enough to do around the office despite Strange's complaints of being shorthanded with Morse and Lewis off duty.

It's a contrivance, but the episode otherwise succeeds on its own merits. The departure(s) from formula are bold and intrinsic to the story. Indeed, Colin Dexter's original novel, "The Wench is Dead", was published almost a decade prior to the adaptation, at a time when the show had entered production only a few years prior. The series developers covered almost all the other Morse novels, and then devised something on the order of 20 original stories, before touching this one.

The initial decision to leave this story aside ultimately paid off. Although it would probably have been too great a gamble when the series was still building its following, the idea fits nicely with the theme later installments had been developing about Morse's deteriorating health. Besides which, period drama fans will appreciate the extensive and well-developed flashback sequences depicting the events and consequences of the historical murder. For these scenes in particular, design is impeccable and Barrington Pheloung contributes a beautiful new score to support the visuals. (Unfortunately, the incidental music for this and other later episodes doesn't seem to be covered on any of the several excellent soundtrack recordings I've found.)

Lewis is featured in the novel, and his absence here is an unhappy accident brought about by Kevin Whately being unavailable at the time. However, Finney's Kershaw is an affable and able one-time fill-in. Also appearing is Judy Loe as Adele, Morse's new lady friend established in a previous episode (at last, a stable relationship for Morse in his twilight years). Owing to the story's revised context within the TV series, screenwriter Malcolm Bradbury (in his only Morse script) takes somewhat of a free hand with the original plot. The murder mystery remains the same, however, and in fairness, Bradbury seems at times to labor in preserving various elements of the novel despite the changes.

Ably directed by Robert Knights (as with Bradbury, his only episode of Morse), "The Wench is Dead" engages via its fresh and very clever story and engrossing period production. It's not necessarily a good starting point for series newcomers, though, in that it strays so far from formula and relies heavily on audience investment in the character of Morse and his associates to frame the mystery plot.

Would it have worked better with Lewis in place? Quite possibly, but I'm really not sure it hurts the final product as much as you'd think. Certainly, any longer term absence of the character would have had a deleterious affect on the series, but this installment manages to find its feet admirably in spite the Kevin Whately-shaped hole. The irony is that its original DVD cover, which is the title image shown on IMDb, was one of the few (if not the only) to feature Lewis! An oopsie by the DVD producers, no doubt, but no more than a goofy footnote to this remarkably successful departure from the series formula.

Inspector Morse: Who Killed Harry Field? (1991) Season 5, Episode 3

The Art of Murder

[9/10 · 4 July 2019]

This episode, in close competition with "Second Time Around", is my pick for the best of series five, and I feel this is one case where the overall rating should be a bit higher than it is.

Morse and Lewis investigate the murder of an eccentric and frustrated painter, Harry Field (Trevor Byfield), plunging them into both the fascinating world of art history and the dynamics of his damaged but colorful social circle. The characters are some of the most compelling of the series and the ensemble cast one of the most impeccable. Geraldine James as Harry's widow and Freddie Jones as his father are particularly powerful, exemplifying diverse but compelling responses to profound grieving.

Nicola Cowper is remarkably sympathetic as a model who clearly cared a great deal for Harry, while the late Vania Villers essays the role of slimy aristocrat Paul Eirl with finesse (I'd have liked slightly more screen time for him in hindsight). Rounding out the cast is Ronald Pickup as Morse's art historian friend, Ian Matthews, a happily down-to-earth variation on the usual Oxford scholars seen in this show. Pickup is an underrated character actor and brings a lot of warmth to a character that seems to be overlooked even by many Morse aficionados.

This episode was written by Geoffrey Case, his only script for the series, and directed by Colin Gregg, who would return for "Death of the Self" next season. He brings both of entries to the screen with quiet class. Camera work is relatively straightforward but skillful, benefiting here from some gorgeous filming locations (particularly the opulent Eirl estate).

Composer Barrington Pheloung has one of his all time best showings with the haunting "Eirl Theme", apparently devised for this episode and never repeated after, and a fun reconstruction of Fats Waller's classic "Ain't Misbehavin'". Harry's fervent love of jazz gives Pheloung fresh musical territory to mine, which he does in ways that add great texture to the episode.

It's worth noting that, partly because of Pheloung's scoring along with Byfield's too-short appearance as the title character and primary victim, Harry Field's unique and almost undefinable spirit dominates this episode from beginning to end unlike any other victim in this series that I can think of. Some victims are universally loathed, while others have not an enemy in the world. Harry fits neither extreme, and the more we discover of him throughout the story, the more fascinating he becomes as a lost figure whose hectic life and premature death Morse labors to reconstruct.

The story, at its essence, is quite clever and intriguing. Art lovers will be especially pleased with this one. As I hinted above, I do believe the screenplay could have sustained structural tweaks, perhaps introducing the main villains a little earlier and doing more with them alongside the subplots that occupy much of the episode's middle portion. Also, there is a loose end involving repeated phone calls (with no message left) to Harry's studio. The identity of the caller is never revealed, and if it had been necessary to cut some of Lewis's "going for promotion" subplot to clear up this point, it would have been a worthwhile short term sacrifice for me.

If not for the unresolved telephone subplot, this one could probably have rated a ten. Given how many clearly skilled and talented artistes are doing first rate work here, and how sublimely well just about everything else in the episode works, I'm almost certain it was some freak oversight in editing. The writing is otherwise above average even for this series; it's clearly not a case of lazy scripting or indifferent direction, so one wonders if something simply had to be cut for the series' strict time slot. Nonetheless, this episode remains deeply satisfying regardless of its lingering ambiguities.

The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes: The Creeping Man (1991) Season 1, Episode 6

The Evolution of Sherlock Holmes

[8/10 · 15 June 2019]

The "monkey episode" of Sherlock Holmes works succeeds beyond what it should, and is far better than you'd think in view of the source material. Although I admire the Holmes character and many of Doyle's stories, this one was (and remains) one of his most far-fetched and, from the viewpoint of today's reader, would be simply ridiculous.

As such, I applaud Granada's bold decision to tackle this story. Adapter Robin Chapman carries over the essence (such as it is) of Doyle's story, but by allowing himself (and being allowed by Granada) a moderate degree of creative freedom, he gives the story a big shot in the arm. Another surprise asset is Charles Kay as Professor Presbury. Kay takes what could have been an absolutely risible character and turns in one of the most engaging, sincere performances of the entire series. The viewer may actually feel a little measure of sympathy for Kay's character, even as his actions are (in the context of the story's internal logic) dangerous and misguided.

Added by Chapman is a subplot built around a series of primate thefts discovered at various London zoos. This novel yet logical expansion of the original gives Lestrade (Colin Jeavons) another welcome appearance, and provides Watson a bit of footwork when he's dispatched to locate the store from which Presbury is purchasing his illicit goods. Although the original premise of the story (Presbury's daughter sees an intruder at her window when no human could have climbed to her second floor room) is outlandish enough to be engaging, the monkey robbers add much adventure and tension to the goings on, culminating in an exciting and funny encounter when Holmes catches the criminals at work and places them in a cage with one of their abductees to await the police.

The two ruffians in question, Wilcox and Jenkins, are played by Steve Swinscoe and Peter Guinness respectively. Oddly, their characters are reversed in the credits: Wilcox is clearly the prominently-mustached figure played by Swinscoe, but the role is credited to Guinness and vice versa. No matter: both play a great scene threatening Hardwicke's Watson at knife point outside the store, ensuring that they deserve their inevitable defeat by Holmes and Watson. Guinness can also be scene as an unfriendly priest in the Cadfael episode "The Raven at the Foregate", and makes an excellent heavy.

In total, "The Creeping Man" is full with energy and panache, succeeding largely because both adapter and director embrace and run with the outrageousness of the story, never once balking or trying to artificially water it down but meeting it with the unfettered style needed to engage the viewer.

The director is Tim Sullivan, and oddly his other episodes ("The Illustrious Client", "The Last Vampyre") are staid, undistinguished if not labored. It seems that a lively adaptation can make quite the difference: Chapman, less adventurous with "The Illustrious Client", finds his groove here, adding to and reshaping the narrative where helpful while allowing the wackiness of the original to breathe to its fullest possible extent. Apparently responding to this mojo, Sullivan's direction is attentive yet quick, marked by clever camera work and editing that knows when (and where) to linger and when to show some urgency. In particular, more camera movement (gradual pans and surprising handheld shaky shots) than seen in "The Illustrious Client" pays off, energizing the narrative in ways the story's undeniable ludicrous qualities.

Defying the odds, this emerges as one of my favorite Casebook episodes alongside "The Problem of Thor Bridge", which succeeds by playing up the more expected detective elements, pairing a powerful human story with clever plotting. This one prevails through a powerful synergy of screenwriting and direction and via sheer audacity of willfully embracing the ridiculous with style

The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes: The Illustrious Client (1991) Season 1, Episode 5

"Anything Stirring, Holmes?"

[6/10 · 15 June 2019]

Both this episode and its Casebook season-mate "The Creeping Man" were adapted by Robin Chapman and directed by Tim Sullivan. The question that arises, for me, is why does one succeed much more fully than the other, given that both are under the command of the same screenwriter/director team?

For reasons I'll explore in a review of "The Creeping Man", that episode is tremendously more successful than its premise would seem to warrant, whereas "The Illustrious Client" is, unfortunately, flat at times. First the good: acting. Brett is always luminous as Holmes and Hardwicke's Watson gets a nice expanded part in this story, emphasizing his courage and loyalty to Holmes in a showing that epitomizes his role as Holmes' (and the viewer's) rock.

A strong cast is highlighted by the late Anthony Valentine as Baron Gruner and Kim Thomson as Kitty Winter, object of the Baron's lust and later the cause of his undoing. Gruner is, in some regards, such an effective antagonist that one wishes more had been made of the character, both in canon and in adaptation. What if Conan Doyle had retained him (disfigured by Kitty's vitriol attack or not) as a spiritual successor to Moriarty? One cannot call the baron a "worthy adversary", in that his moral character and base motivations render him unworthy to touch Holmes's boots, but this was nonetheless a character with great villainous potential had he been developed properly.

Kitty, for her part, gives this episode energy and spirit that is otherwise somewhat lacking, acting as she does as catalyst for the story's most crucial dramatic moments. She is also a welcome corrective to the unwitting damsel in distress and doormat that is the baron's fiancee, Ms. Merville (Abigail Cruttenden). Perhaps the heart of the difficulty is that we are

given no particular reason to care about Ms. Merville, apart from the fact that she's the daughter of a very important man and this fact seems to motivate some even more important men to seek Holmes' help in persuading her to break off her engagement to the baron.

And what precisely is Holmes doing here? The most interesting thing he does is to lounge with Dr. Watson at a Turkish Bath, an intriguing setting that is never revisited.

Hookahs and steam-baths aside, Holmes has been engaged to solve a rather mundane problem, one requiring none of his powers of deductive reasoning, acute observation, or other specialized detective skills. The only reason he has been employed is, seemingly, because members of the aristocracy (in this case English, but in other stories he takes similar clients from The Continent) view him as a panacea, or "superhero" of sorts, who can discretely resolve all of their politically sensitive, unseemly entanglements.

Holmes *almost* bristles at being used as this sort of "fixer", threatening to decline the commission when Sir James Damery (David Langton) is bound not to reveal the identity of the Illustrious Client who has sent him to engage Holmes on Ms. Merville's behalf, but we know Holmes will never resist the chase.

So what remains is mostly melodrama without strong elements of detection or mystery. Melodrama can be effective in its own right, and the subject of melodrama in relation to Holmes stories (both Doyle's originals and their various adaptions and reincarnations) is worthy of detailed discussion elsewhere. The problem in this case, beside aforementioned lack of other story or character elements to flesh out the melodrama of the basic plot, is that Tim Sullivan's direction is not fully supporting the melodrama.

Design and visual elements are, on the whole, quite solid but unexceptional, with the overall effect that the production lacks in energy and flair--both of which you need if you're going to match the emotional pitch of this sort of story. Peter Hammond, who directed several episodes of this series, seemed to understand the Holmes stories in this way and was consistently able to match the literary tone with stylized visuals and dramatic choices. By contrast, the direction of this episode is for the most part quite understated. Although solid, it does little to complement or elevate the story elements.

Oddly enough, Sullivan carries out this task admirably for the next episode, "The Creeping Man"--where, in tandem with a stronger adaptation by Chapman, the tone of the production matches ideally with the preposterous but compelling lunacy of that story. Here, though, the script seems to be by the numbers, with the director doing little to shake things up.

There are nonetheless small moments that help: Mrs. Hudson is seen tending to Holmes after he has been wounded by Gruner's agents, tucking Holmes in for the night in an endearing moment of maternal attentiveness. Elsewhere, Gruner is listening to excerpts of Mozart's "Don Giovanni" as he peruses souvenirs of his past conquests. That opera being a retelling of the Don Juan legend, and one in which the duplicitous seducer ultimately meets his comeuppance in spectacular style, this flourish seems to be the adapter and/or director's one firm acknowledgement of this story's melodramatic (not to say operatic) territory.

Lacking either the sheer cleverness of "The Problem of Thor Bridge" or the imaginative excesses of "The Creeping Man", this story needed a bit more to distinguish it among such compelling entries. The Granada crew made a fine effort. It is a reasonably faithful recreation of Doyle's imperfect original and a good way for a Holmes fan to spend an hour. Beside others in the series, however, it falls in the middle of the pack.

Inspector Morse: The Settling of the Sun (1988) Season 2, Episode 3

Peter Hammond's Second Morse

[8/10 · 17 February 2015]

The Settling of the Sun is the second episode of Inspector Morse to be directed by Peter Hammond, following Service of All the Dead, and preceding his final work on the series, Sins of the Fathers. It's not completely coincidental that I've reviewed all three of these episodes; some people are distracted and annoyed by Hammond's visual style, but I usually enjoy and find that it adds to the fabric of the story. (He directed these and a few films of Jeremy Brett's Sherlock Holmes series.)

This is not one of the absolute best episodes, but I think the previous reviews are a little harsh on it. The themes explored of revenge and racial prejudice are pointed and worth considering. This episode does discuss some of the darkest chapters of human history, in particular The Second World War, and some of our darkest and most disturbing (and disturbed) parts as humans. Yet as dark as it is, and as gruesome as the details of the first murder are, it is not an overly gory or gratuitous piece in terms of showing bloodshed or the aftermath. A great deal is left to the imagination, which perhaps seems counterintuitive for a visual medium but Morse has always dealt in subtlety and it is done in such a way that the story loses none of its power in not making you feel nauseated.

Alongside the reliably engaging Thaw and Whately, there are some memorable characters in the supporting cast. Robert Stephens and Robert Lang are both thoroughly loathsome, Stephens as a callus and odious Oxford administrator who's concerned about having to pay the staff overtime during the investigation, and Lang as Morse's superior, investigating drug trafficking at the college. This was the only appearance of Detective Superintendent Dewar in the series, before James Grout was a regular as Chief Super Strange. He only has one substantial scene but manages to be genuinely unpleasant, "bouncing off" Morse from receiving further information about the fact that the murder victim was under surveillance as a drug dealer, and makes one realize just how friendly a boss Strange was. As a child, I first saw Robert Lang playing King Miraz in the BBC's TV series of The Chronicles of Narnia, and it's interesting that in both productions he's cast as the dastard.

The other major player is Anna Calder Marshall, as a lady friend of Morse's. But she's twitchy, moody, obviously lying, possibly on the verge of a breakdown, and tells him to his face that she never had any feelings for him. It's a difficult part, unlikely as Dr. Jane Robson is to elicit sympathy for most of the story, but Marshall has some fine moments in expressing the combination of profound anger and vulnerability that seem to be at the core of her character. Definitely one of the most difficult characters in all of Morse, but a performance that isn't easily forgotten.

Also present is director Hammond's aforementioned wily camera, photographing the characters through windows, mirrors (including a memorable shot early on through the wing mirror of an ambulance), and even in opaque reflections caught in the red paint of Morse's beautiful Jaguar. The camera pans in a wandering way, occasionally whizzes about, and there is one questionable use of slow-motion---though at least in ends on a shot with almost a painter's composition. By and large, however, I find that this adds to the visual texture and sometimes can even comment on the characters and situation. One shot that I particularly love shows a woman praying at a church altar, except that we see her visage reflected in a decorative showing a towering depiction of the crucified Christ. The affect, then, is that we see this woman, who is both seeking forgiveness and justifying her crimes before God, prostrate at the feet of Jesus, who is both literally and symbolically a towering a figure for her. Similarly affective is Hammond's use of close-up during dramatic monologues, bringing an actor's face into the extreme foreground (usually left of the screen) and letting us study it, while Morse drifts out of focus into the background of the shot (usually background right). Note particularly Anna Calder Marshall's last major scene. The photograph here goes a long way to complimenting her performance; teamwork between literary and visual storytelling, giving us a strong window into Jane's agony. In short, Hammond's camera work, for me, really lets the audience into the character and drama at times.

All in all, an episode with many interesting features and well-worth watching for fans. I've come back to it a few times over the years, despite some of the less fawning comments here. It is a very dark story, and perhaps this combines with its undoubted visual idiosyncrasies to drive some people away. But lest things get too heavy, there's always Peter Woodthorpe's ever-alert and unflappable police pathologist Max--who will, without fail, get the last word. "I spy a spoilt shirt!", he observes when Morse has been ill after seeing a brutally murdered corpse. Later, another body is discovered in a public bathroom. Having completed his duties, Max pauses before exiting to relieve himself in a urinal, then washes his hands, and leaves. He keeps talking about the cause and manner of death throughout his micturition and no one around him ever bats an eye.

Inspector Morse: The Sins of the Fathers (1990) Season 4, Episode 2

Murder Brewing

[9/10 · 8 February 2015]

If you're a fan of the Morse character, you'll appreciate that it's fitting that he should investigate murder at a brewery. I think this particular episode is sometimes underrated by fans. We have the solid foundation of a murder mystery,providing the detective story aspects necessary for any good Morse: Trevor Radford, in charge of managing the affairs at his family's brewery business, turns up dead in a mixing vat. In fact, two people are eventually killed in this manner. This can be viewed as a key symbol for "Sins of the Fathers", as we are plunged into a simmering stew of of subplots. There are extramarital affairs ongoing while the family business weakness. Various members of the family are pursuing their own lines of action to save the finances. There's a solicitor who has some connection to the family, but what that is remains unclear for some time. And there's a train- loving brewery employee, his mother, and co-worker girlfriend. We don't even know why they're here for most of the story, and if there's any fault in the storytelling, it's that their presence thus calls attention to itself and possibly gives some of the game away.

These are flawed people. But any family in which two brothers are murdered in the space of one week is bound to have a few kinks, and flawed characters are frustrating but ultimately more compelling and truer to life. They also allow the opportunity for interesting storytelling. And that brings me to the other thing that some people might not care for about this episode, but I quite like it.

Peter Hammond directed this and a couple of other episodes and some people find his visual style distracting and disorienting, but I find it to mainly enhance the storytelling. This story is being told in a visual medium after all, and it's nice to see use being made of that sometimes, instead of having the camera always remain a neutral narrator.

As others have mentioned, Hammond has many shots through mirrors, windows, and other reflective surfaces. There's clever use of color and usually at least one or two left-field visual ideas in his episodes. This episode opens with a very effective titled/slanted camera angle, which immediately puts us on edge without, in my opinion, overselling the point.

One thing Hammond does throughout is to give the space, or environment in which the story is taking place, a lot of presence. Whether it's in the Radfords' mansion or the rundown home of Victor Preece and his mother--or the brewery itself--we are given plenty of wider shots that set the characters within the space, rather than framing everything from their point of view, quite true to life in that the people enter space, not the other way around.

This one is pretty low on POV shots in general: we're always seeing from outside the characters' vantages and seeing things they don't see, or aren't paying attention to. For instance, during a tension-filled but cryptic scene between the two Radford brothers' wives, during which we're beginning to learn that one of the women is having an adulterous relationship with her brother-in-law, we see his photograph on a nearby table juxtaposed with their conversation. This cutting away to photographs, or placing them in the foreground of a shot to comment on the action, occurs repeatedly within the episode.

The whole scene between the Radford wives is worth looking at for photography and editing, as there are shots through windows and other reflective surfaces, giving us the feeling of outsiders who are listening in on bits and pieces of these women's private lives--as indeed we are, and they don't go out of their way to spell out what their conversation really means.

The performances are also skillful, showing the tensions in their interactions. It is only one example throughout of a combination of strong acting, clever photography, and piecemeal editing (which can be a good thing inasmuch as it's cryptic and quick) to maintain tension and draw us into the story.

Later on, after Helen Radford goes to find her brother-in-law and lover at the brewery, she instead discovers him murdered like his brother. The circumstances of the discovery force her to confess the affair to Morse. Throughout the short interview, he is photographed from below while standing, she from above while seated. So we have Morse looming over Helen, visually demonstrating his high ground and her lower, more vulnerable position. This visual language is regularly employed during the interviews.

As for Helen, played well by Kim Thomson, she actually remains a relatively sympathetic character throughout despite her carnal sins. At one point, while her in-laws are plotting on how to save their business, we see Helen, whose husband has just been murdered, separated from then and decrying their self-absorption while she plays with a big shaggy dog. Her character makes a good contrast with her sister-in-law, a real bitter piece of work, and her venal but fatally insecure mother-in-law, all well-played.

The acting is always strong in Morse. In this episode's cast, special mention goes to Lionel Jeffries, Grandpa from"Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang". His performance here as another grandfather is very affecting.

Without giving away too much, I'll also mention that the murderer is actually one of the more interesting characterizations of the series. David Bishop, in his "Complete Morse" episode guide found him unlikely and unbelievable. He may well seem a counter-intuitive character at first, but there's a lot boiling beneath his repressed external self.

This episode has gotten some what of a bad rap from Morse fans but I believe it has plenty to redeem it and some of the reviews criticize too much. It's a highly solid murder story told with great visual flair.

Cats (1998 Video)

The Cat's Pajamas

[7/10 · 24 June 2013]

Although Jesus Christ Superstar is my favorite Andrew Lloyd Webber show (I also enjoyed Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat), Cats can be a fun show, particularly if you know and like T.S. Eliot's work, upon which all the material is based. I, like Lloyd Webber, count Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats as a childhood favorite. In the car with my parents, we used to play an audiocassette version of the poems read by Sir John Gielgud and Irene Worth. I loved the poems before I knew the name of Eliot. Nowadays, I count Prufrock amongst my favorites and it's lovely to note that all of the characters songs in this show are based on various poems of Eliot's (some of them unpublished in his lifetime). It seems to me that Cats might be a bit more confusing to one who is unfamiliar with Old Possum's Book, but the numbers are loosely bound together as it is, so it may not matter much. But I do think it will make more sense and possibly be more fun if you've read the Eliot first.

Cats is a pretty light, whimsical show not to be taken too seriously--which, to my mind, is no bad thing. We need whimsy, too! It's based on what is actually a rather interesting, cool idea of plunging into the world of the mystical Jellicle Cats, as they meet at the annual Jellicle Ball. Much of the play is spent simply meeting the cat characters at the ball. With the exception of Grizabella, each of the characters introduced comes directly from Old Possum's Book and the songs are mainly the poems set to music. And it is important to remember that this is a musical based on a series of poems--hence the vignette format it often takes. Lloyd Webber is a composer of music, not a storyteller or writer literary sense. And there's nothing wrong with that. Dating back the operas of Wagner, Puccini, and so on, there has been a rich tradition in musical theatre and of adapting and reinterpreting previous stories, legends, etc. One thing theatre offers is the opportunity for many artistic interpretations of one story or piece, but I digress.

The music and dancing here are exciting and often fabulous. The opening number, Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats, is simply a knockout and other highlights, for me, including the Battle of the reenactments Peaks and the Pollicles featuring the Great Rumpus Cat, as well as Mungojerrie and Rumpleteezer. Good comedy abounds in these numbers. Old Deuteronomy is one of the most gracefully translated numbers. The Gumbie Cat (Jennyanydots) and The Rum Tum Tugger are also staged well, in fresh and original ways (I especially like Jenny) and Bustopher Jones is delightful. As a side note, this video version also features Sir John Mills in a brief but apropos role as Gus the Theatre Cat (unfortunately, this version loses the Growl Tiger number that is supposed to be a tangent to Gus' song). The late Mills was always reliable and his cameo is surprisingly touching despite its brevity. In some ways, I'd have liked a more flamboyant, upbeat portrayal of Gus, but Mills' cameo is a highlight.

The dancing of the Jellicle Ball, of which there is plenty, is fantastic to watch. I dare say that these dancers, with their wonderful agility, energy, and flexibility, have to be keep in top physical condition and work at least as hard as any football player. It looks to be every bit as much a work-out, every bit as much a form of athletics, as any contact sport. And those who don't appreciate the athleticism, the endurance, and the physical excellence good dancing requires--as well as the beauty it can produce--can kiss those shiny jazz shoes. But I, again, digress. Suffice it to say there is plenty of dancing in this show. That said, filming choreography can be tricky, and I get the feeling it would more be exciting and spectacular to see it on stage, as it was intended--and making that point may have been part of the purpose of this home video edition. After all, a theatre ticket costs more than a DVD.

Although the story is loose, they've actually managed to mind some of the characters from the poems together pretty well. Old Deuteronomy, a venerated senior cat in one of Eliot's poems, because the wise leader or guru of the Jellicles here, presiding over the Ball. And Macavity, the Professor Moriarty of the Jellicle world, shows up to disrupt the ball with criminal mischief. Then Mr. Mistofolees, the conjuring cat, plays a pivotal role in the plot with his magic, which is another number that I really enjoyed. The other key character is Grizabella, whom I believe comes from one of Eliot's unpublished poems, and is portrayed mainly through the famous ballad Memory, which is lovely and poignant. The lyrics are also some of the best of the show and in the context of the show, the emotional aspect of the song is somewhat surprisingly raw and intense. It's beautifully sung and sticks in your head without doubt.

Although the story is loose, it does all come together in the end. I won't say it isn't predictable but it does end up being pretty satisfying for me. Overall, Cats is a fun show, particularly if you like T.S. Eliot's poems. Eliot's widow, Valerie, who was alive when Webber conceived the show, approved wholeheartedly. Let it be what is and let your pretensions take flight. It can be fun if you appreciate musical theatre, T.S. Eliot, and our feline fellows.

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1988 TV Movie)

For the Lurid Taste in Fiction

[3 June 2013]

A few words on this adaptation of Hound, which seems to get mixed reviews: it does have its weaknesses. There are some lovely shots of moorlands but they are occasionally interspersed at odd moments, not exactly where you would expect establishing shots. The film does give the impression of a low budget in this regard, as well as in the fact that special effects seem limited, especially concerning the titular dog. When Seldon is attacked by the dog, if you're watching carefully, you'll catch footage of Sir Henry's attack. But there is a great amount of period visual detail evoking Victorian England that helps make up for the shortcomings.

Performances are generally excellent. Although some say Jeremy Brett's health was already effecting his performances by this time (this was one of the middle installments of his tenure as Holmes), I just watched this film again recently and don't see it. Just as in the story, Holmes is largely out of the picture while Watson stays with Sir Henry at Baskerville Hall, but there are some really lovely and clever inserts giving us fleeting glimpses of Holmes' activities and clues of what is to come, and whenever he is on camera, Brett shines. I love the excitement in his voice when Dr. Mortimer, upon meeting Holmes at Grimpen, asks if he is any closer to solving the case and if there is indeed a hound, and his simple answers: "I am. There is." The moment is played perfectly. The early scenes at Baker Street, with Holmes and Watson examining Mortimer's stick and Mortimer asking for a cast of Holmes "dolichocephalic skull", are equally delightful. Listen for Brett's signature wonderful laugh. "Behave and sit down, Dr. Mortimer".

The demanding role of Dr. Watson is here ably filled by Edward Hardwicke. Some prefer David Burke, whom Hardwicke replaced in this series, but I find Hardwicke to be splendid and quite convincing as Holmes' likable, solid but sensitive gentleman companion. He does a good job of holding the fort in Holmes' absence. Other standout performances include Alastair Duncan as Dr. Mortimer, an eccentric physician and scientist, who shares a good chemistry in scenes with Dr. Watson. Watch them when Watson comes upon Mortimer's paleontological dig site on the moors. Also, James Faulkner has a strong presence as Stapleton; Ronald Pickup makes the small role of Barrymore, the Baskerville butler, surprisingly full and warm; and keep your eye out for Bernard Horsfall, as Frankland, a colorful local astronomer--a very fun performance. Kristopher Tabori is quite solid as Sir Henry Baskerville, a man who has spent most of his life in America but is trying to be English again.

The proliferation of clues and the story structure is generally handled well, although one or two sequences are strangely short, making it seem rather choppy. Some say the pace is too slow but I don't especially mind. I think the movie works well in terms of pacing when you let it soak in. It does work gradually but there are moments of genuine Gothic atmosphere. There isn't much action; it's more of a suspense piece and, in keeping with the novel, there's plenty of talking, meal time scenes, etc. I think it has an episodic quality and this, too, is in keeping with the novel, as much of Doyle's Hound of the Baskervilles is told through diary entries and letters of Dr. Watson and it was originally published serially. I think if you let it unfold on its own terms, not expecting wall-to-wall breathless excitement, it works pretty well, although it could be that a mini-series format would suit this novel quite well.

It also true that music is used minimally. This works at times and may sap the movie of energy at others. As Patrick Gowers' scores for this series are always wonderful, the music is somewhat missed, but I can also see points at which the eerie silence of the remote moorlands is an atmospheric asset. It's definitely a deliberate choice not to be heavy-handed with music but to let a sense of ambiance in and allow quiet to do much of the work. And again, the filming locations for Grimpen are beautiful as is the gorgeous house used for Baskerville Hall. The locations are full of Gothic atmosphere and used very well. I enjoy just seeing Baskerville Hall on camera and getting some of those lovely nature shots. Dr. Watson describes "the beauties of the moor in autumn" and we can see what he means--beautiful.

Overall, this film is highly recommended for fans of the Brett series and of Holmes, especially if you're happy with a low-key, quiet movie that is engaging and has rewards for people are patient with it and let it soak in. And do expect it to be a somewhat low-budget TV film. It's 1980s English TV. It is what it is. For newcomers to the series, The Sign of Four would be recommended first of the feature films, as it's exciting and spirited and a good adventure mystery. Hound of the Baskervilles may be better for when you already love the series and want some more of it to savor on a quiet evening. Like any series, it obviously works better when you're invested in the characters. It's not a perfect movie but along with being based upon a truly classic tale, it's very good for its time and place, with fine acting, filming locations, and photography-- and added pleasure for dog lovers!

Great Performances: Jesus Christ Superstar (2000) Season 29, Episode 11

Theatrical Storytelling, Not Cinematic=Awesome

[9/10 · 29 May 2013]

First of all, I really want to say that I'm not in the "let's hate on Jerome Pradon" gang. Pradon has taken some fire for his portrayal of Judas but I really think the vitriol is undeserved in many cases. Pradon's voice and approach are different to the classic Carl Anderson portrayal l but their supposed to be. Give him a chance. In my opinion, Pradon gives a Judas who is conflicted, torn, twisted, pained, and pent up. You really need to watch his performance, and watch it carefully, to get the full effect of his characterization. He doesn't belt it out like Carl Anderson, but the fact that this is musical theatre at least as much as rock doesn't bother me, though it obviously niggles some. Nonetheless on their own, his vocals wouldn't be earth- shattering, although I quite enjoy hearing the hints of French in his enunciation and the soft yet still rock-tinged and sometimes edgy European sound about them, but when you watch him, Pradon is a born actor. He acts every sung line and his physical/visual performance is wonderful.

There's comedy but there's also drama and angst in his performance. He makes Judas human and multi-dimensional. He does tend to wail when singing but nonetheless, The Last Supper is amazing at times in terms of emotional delivery as is the moment of betrayal. The connection between Judas and Jesus in that moment could not have been more effective. Judas ' Death is painful--but it's meant to be. The staging when Judas is alone singing I Don't Know How to Love Him is beautiful-- filled with primal emotion. Judas is splayed on the floor, looking almost like he himself is being crucified at one point. And the staging of Superstar, the title number, is really interesting in this production. It's just a completely different approach to the song and the vocals. That sequence, along with Pradon's version of Damned for All Time/Blood money are phenomenal and it's largely down to Jerome Pradon, who makes the character his own in a totally unique way. Let him not be Carl. He's Jerome. Let this be Jerome's Judas; don't demand that it be Carl's or Murray Head's.

Otherwise, this production of Superstar is eye-catching, visually engrossing, and representative of a complete vision in its staging. Its setting leaps to life with a postmodern production design including broad strokes of distopic imagery.

The back wall is covered in graffiti. Starting with a great close-up of a graphitized "HATE", much of the Overture is spent in close-up shots and pans across the wall, allowing us to really take in the designs. I find this device fascinating. It gives us a powerful sense of this story's setting; the life and times of the characters. The setting in this production carries an environment of heightened reality.

Glenn Carter has a strong voice and is generally solid as Jesus. Other highlights include Fred Johanson's Pilate and Michael Schaeffer's Annas. The former is a striking new characterization, painting Pilate as a weak man in the guise of a strong one, a man who seems to view his role to be as much that of a showman as a governor and who lives in terror of losing the people's support. Annas is remarkable just for being a perfectly detestable villain.

Drawing parallels with sociopolitical dynamics of today, disciples are portrayed as l revolutionaries rebelling against the Roman Empire. In this production, the segment beginning with Hosanna and moving directly into Simon's song perfectly exemplifies why Judas fears the "Jesus movement" is beyond anyone's control and is dangerous.

There's an interesting moment immediately after I Don't Know how to Love him. Pradon's Judas catches Mary about to kiss Jesus, who is asleep. It does show the nastier smug side of this Judas that some people really don't like, but what's interesting to me is that the moment is played entirely with visuals, set to that fantastic piece of Lloyd Webber scoring that leads into Damned for All Time.

Judas, Mary, and Jesus (who awakes on Judas' arrival) express their feelings only through their facial expressions. You can see the wheels turning in characters' heads from moment to moment. The intense lighting on Judas as we see a change come over him is the perfect finishing touch.

This sequence captures what I like most about this production of Superstar, along with its emotional depth and three-dimensional character treatments: through visual abstraction, it paints an intense hyper-reality that represents characters' feelings and actions more than it directly shows them at times. Through its visuals, it is at times akin to visual poetry or a cousin to ballet. In Judas' Death the noose is lowered onto to the stage by unseen hands, presenting itself to him. During Blood Money, Judas crawls from the priests in a futile attempt to escape fate and Jesus later does the same, crawling desperately from the crowd baying for his blood as Pilate gives the death sentence.

This Superstar is visually stunning at times in a way completely different to the equally powerful cinematic rendition. It uses a unique medium of visual storytelling to convey drama in a uniquely compelling way. Watch the final moments, as Jesus' body is placed on the stage. Gradually, the characters depart until only Judas and Mary, the two other key players, are looking on. And Judas fittingly does witness and feel the Crucifixion in this version even though he is dead. Judas and Mary, who have been stretched with tension throughout the story, stand together over Christ's body. This is a portrait of the characters and emotional journey of the play. It is poetry composed by moving people on a live canvas. It is visual and kinesthetic poetry. In short, it is theatre.

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat (1999 Video)

Many Colors

[9/10 · 25 May 2013]

Boy, I wish we had assemblies like this when I was in school!

I was introduced to Andrew Lloyd Webber and the wonderful lyricist Tim Rice through Jesus Christ Superstar. Joseph is somewhat of a cousin to that show but it is a different kettle of fish at the same time. It is clearly designed to be accessible to school children-- which is great. Kids are an audience worthy of being catered to and it's wonderful to see them becoming involved in the arts, as the DVD extras show us that English schools host their own productions. But Dreamcoat also holds much for adults who are willing to forgo pretensions in favor of fun. This is not classical theatre but it is enjoyable lightweight popular theatre, accessible to anyone with an appreciation for the wacky and zany. In short, it is entertaining. It is good music with a good message for kids--and Tim Rice's lyrics are witty as ever.

Another thing this is not, however, is a religious show. Parents, note that this isn't to the Bible for kids. It's not a Christian (or Jewish) perspective; rather, it is universal. Joseph and friends are depicted no differently than if they were figures in Greek or Norse mythology; there is no special reverence nor special disdain, although the approach is light-hearted and fun-loving. It's another story. At one point, Maria Friedman, playing narrator, stumbles and drops her Bible, telegraphing that this is a non-traditionalist, possibly off-center treatment of scripture, one that absolutely requires a taste for the whimsical.

I've sadly never seen the show on stage, which m I'd love to, but I do see how this rendition could disappoint one in search of the purely theatrical. However, one of two things I like is actually dependent on the filmic medium. The story is bookended as a play children are watching in school. When Joseph emerges, it becomes a blend of reality and fantasy. The lines are blurred and the action is effectively placed in a unique realm that, I find, engages the imagination. It's a bit of a throwback to the like of the 1973 film of Jesus Christ Superstar, which similarly bookends its main story as a performance of sorts. Except Dreamcoat is presented ideally for connecting with kids. At the same time, this presentation is strongly theatrical on other ways and I really appreciate getting a bit of the theatrical experience in the living room, as I do love theatre.

The other thing I really like is the sheer variety. There's '50s-style rock 'n' roll with the classic Go, Go Joseph and Pharo's Dream, an outrageous Elvis imitation. There's a faux country/western ballad as Joe's bros deliciously pretend to mourn him. And there's a wonderful calypso that will get stuck in your head for days. Webber takes a pantheon of popular music styles that people love and weaves them together in storytelling. That's pop theatre. It seems typical of Webber and it's similar to the musical brilliance that makes Superstar a classic of fantastic appeal. Dreamcoat is cut from the same cloth, dyed in different hues.

As to the cast, the all-star approach seems over the top but it's always nice seeing Richard Attenborough (Jacob). And I've never followed Osmond but I crest him for a good performance, making Joe warn and radiant. Watching him with the kids is a joy. The ending Coat of Many Colors sequence is marvelous, as we see the kids form a unified body of many colors on stage, and the bookending number, Any Dream Will Do, can stand as a classic entirely on its own (more so than Joseph's slower ballad while in prison). The supporting cast is uniformly excellent, especially Judah, Pharo, the butler, and the baker. Friedman is amusing if over the top as narrator, a device that seems conceived to help kids understand the story. I recognized Englishman Ian McNiece as Potiphar, a delightful performance of a colorful characterization, not to be missed.

In short, Dreamcoat lives up to its title: the characters are all colorful. The music is fun and the themes poignant. The story and music conjure and help to preserve a spirit of dreaming and daring to have and glorify dreams and hope, as well as a spirit of love and unity. Which is beautiful. This show could also serve as a fun way to introduce kids to musical theatre. The upbeat music, goofiness, and presence of kids in the story should help draw kids in. If I chose two words to describe Dreamcoat, they would be "color" and "dreams", two things children should not be short of. Everyone should sew a Dreamcoat.

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes: The Mazarin Stone (1994) Season 1, Episode 5

Mazarin Garridebs

[7/10 · 5 May 2013]

The single greatest issue with The Mazarin Stone is the absence of the titular detective. And while it's fantastic that we got to see Mycroft again before the series ended, his insertion into the story is imperfect, in that he is sometimes speaking lines that sound like they belong in Jeremy Brett's mouth and it takes a tiny stretch when the story requires Mycroft to start working from Holmes' apartment.

Nonetheless, it is possible to trudge through the shortcomings. What seems to compound the problem is that episode that was loosely adapted in the first place. Although titled The Mazarin Stone, this adaptation actually incorporates two Conan Doyle stories: the titular tale and The Adventure of the Three Garridebs, creating a pretty effective amalgam. Although it may surprise and upset purists unaccustomed to this sort of meddling by Granada, I think the reasons are understandable for those who've read the original stories. If you tried to take The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone and place what is on the page directly on the screen, even though the short story itself is okay on its own, you'd end up with something that probably wouldn't be that interesting for most viewers to follow and almost certainly wouldn't take up fifty minutes of screen time.

In the original, there is little mystery. There's also virtually no detective work, because the characters never leave the room and all of the action leading up to the confrontation with Sylvius is related to the reader after the fact. By incorporating The Three Garridebs, this adaptation introduces stronger elements of mystery and footwork: here the characters get out and about in. In fact, the episode is almost more of an action story than a mystery.

The script, however, is generally well-written as are the characters, contrary to what some other reviewers say. The episode benefits from some colorful background characters. The Garrideb siblings are delightful.

Possibly due to the introduction of Mycroft, the pacing or structure feel a bit off to me at times and exposition is sometimes a little on the rushed side. This is one of those Holmes episodes with some weird camera angles and lighting, but unlike some viewers, I've never been driven to distraction by that sort of flamboyance. I wouldn't change it a bit.

As for Sherlock's part, his brief and sudden reappearance at the end is startling. But it ends it up kind of working in a cool way.

By the standards of this series, this episode is a novelty. For that reason alone, I find it somewhat enjoyable, but again, that requires one to view it in the context of a good working knowledge of the Jeremy Brett Holmes films. On its own the episode is well-written, cleverly directed, finely acted, and generally entertaining. Just treat as a novelty to the series and you may find that, while it doesn't quite fall into step with the other great episodes, it stands out in its own way and really is not that bad a piece of TV when approached fairly. If nothing else, props to everyone involved for doing their best to salvage a difficult situation. All things considered, this could have been a hell of a lot worse and more troublesome than it was.

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes: The Golden Pince-Nez (1994) Season 1, Episode 3

Strong Episode Despite No Watson

[9/10 · 23 April 2013]

Due to other obligations, Edward Hardwicke is absent from this episode but it manages to work very well. One reason might be that the story at the heart of the mystery is a rather interesting one. More so than for the previous Casebook of Sherlock Holmes, I feel the producers generally did a good job in Memoirs as far as choosing interesting stories from what was left of the Holmes canon to adapt. For instance, The Three Gables, The Dying Detective, The Cardboard Box, and this one. (The one exception might be The Mazarin Stone, but that's a different beast for another review.)

It could be that I find this one interesting because my maternal grandmother was full-blooded Russian and my great grandparents (although I never knew them) probably left their home country around the time of the Communist Revolution or not long before. As one of Doyle's historically-based plots, this story, which was one of the later ones to be written, touches on that general period of history.

Acting is very strong all around, as usual. Jeremy Brett is never a let down and although, as previously stated, there is no Watson in sight, Charles Grey as Sherlock's brother Mycroft is always delightful. (Although Mycroft did not feature in Doyle's original--which had Dr. Watson in his rightful place--the elder Holmes was featured in a couple of other short stories that were adapted, so Grey had a recurring part.) The episode is helped tremendously by strong performances from Frank Finlay as The Professor and Anna Cartaret, in a brief but essential role. Also, an actress by the name of Patricia Kerrigan is pretty effective as a suffragist in a new subplot added for the adaptation. Some "purists" get feathers ruffled over any change to one of Doyle's stories but this should be one of the less harrowing ones: the presence of the women's suffrage movement is in keeping with the setting of the story and fleshing out background characters is a sensible enough way to make a short story more substantial without altering the core plot. As for the cast, it is every bit as strong as usual with no duds. The inspector and the professor's housemaid are also played well.

The other character of note is the Professor's house itself. Thanks to Peter Hammond, perhaps the most artsy director in television, the house in which the murder takes place is quite an engrossing and vivid character of its own. It would have been a quirky set anyway but Hammond's classic off the wall style, which an also be seen in other episodes that he directed, takes full advantage of it, with colorful and zany visuals helping to enhance the quirkiness and the filmic value of this episode. Memorable play can be made of something as simple as a large pool of blood on the floor, as happened in a very memorable sequence with the Holmes brothers interviewing the maid.

Fair warning: Hammond's artsy photography and editing choices could be confusing to some, as the opening sequence intercuts two dramatic sequence from totally different times and places in the characters' lives. The opening may throw viewers off at first in this regard but all soon becomes clear.

So I suppose that between loving the house and loving the history, I can't help but rate this episode highly. It's one of my favorites from the underrated and rather unfairly mauled Memoirs series, which I actually rate a bit above most of the Casebook of Sherlock Holmes. It's true that Brett's decline in health around the time of production can be a drawback--but not an insurmountable one. And I guess this isn't the strongest *detective* story in the world but I think there is actually a pretty powerful human story at the heart of it. The weakest spot for me is that in the denouement, there is one big element that's rather clichéd. But if The Golden Pince-Nez were the only murder mystery guilty of that, it wouldn't be a cliché. Nonetheless Jeremy Brett and Anna Cartaret carry it off excellently--really affecting performances that handle potentially difficult scenes well.

Plus, Pince-Nez has to be one of the coolest sounding words ever. So bonus points go for that.

The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes: The Eligible Bachelor (1993) Season 3, Episode 2

"A Science of Instability"

[8/10 · 23 April 2013]

In this stylized and expanded adaptation of Conan Doyle's "The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor", Lady Helena (Anna Calder-Marshall) refers to her elaborate plot to escape captivity as "a science of instability". Director Peter Hammond appears to have replicated this approach in his conception of T. R. Bowen's surreal teleplay. Just as Helena painstakingly reconstructed, one stone at a time, the structure of an old, dilapidated chapel, only to deliberately topple the entire edifice in order to secure her freedom--the chapel being a particular apt metaphor for Helena's struggle, as her confinement originated with subjugation to the institution of Holy Matrimony--so Hammond dramatically breaks down and reassembles the detective story structure to facilitate the most evocative and--ironically--cogent possible visualization of a script that, admittedly, may go a bridge too far in expanding the horizons of Brett's volatile, sensitive Holmes.

Bear in mind that in previous episodes, particularly The Musgrave Ritual and The Devil's Foot (both excellent), we have already seen Homes battling with his over-stimulation, drug dependency, and consequent physical exhaustion--qualities all of which, incidentally, were suggested throughout Doyle's original stories, even if the author didn't intend to challenge or subvert the detective genre with more pronounced, incisive character development.

Given Brett's layered portrayal of Holmes throughout the Granada series (in particular, an unwell Holmes vacillating between moody distance and almost delirious fits of giggles in The Musgrave Ritual is a significant precedent), his fragility and flightiness here are a credible--if ambitious--move to take the character to a logical extreme. The dream sequences perhaps take this a step beyond logic, and it is here that Bowen's script may be overreaching, but the result--with Hammond, in his plunge from the white cliffs of scientific deduction to the uncanny valley, taking the only remotely feasible approach to this material--offers a fascinating, quite effective film experience when taken on its own aesthetic merits, as an expressionistic and occasionally surreal visualization of chaotic mental interiorities.

In short then, I can understand why this installment isn't especially well-liked by fans, but I think some of the ire is unwarranted. Superficially, the first issue with its very loose adaptation: Conan Doyle's original storyline is relegated to a subplot, the surrounding circumstances of which are morphed beyond recognition. On the other hand, a straight adaptation of that short story would have been pressed to fill up 50 minutes of screen time, let alone tell a truly engrossing story of relevance to contemporary audiences. And in large part, the job of dramatists in adapting these stories has always been to find, and shape for TV, an effective balance of Doyle's own characteristic synthesis between detective work and florid, Watson-style melodrama. If anything, this episode simply leans a little too far in favor of the later, eschewing the former by necessity of its bold decision to develop the detective-protagonist in directions not usually humored by the genre.

If the only reason you watch this series is to see close adaptations, you may be disappointed--but I recommend giving it a chance anyway.

As a film, it has a lot to recommend it. The presentation is sophisticated and sumptuous. Gloven, one one of the main settings, is beautiful. The sequences introducing the title character, Lord Robert (Simon Williams) and Hettie (Paris Jefferson) are beautifully acted and filmed. I'm almost certain it was designed to appeal to drama-lovers. There are expansive views of the estate, glistening sunlight-on-water shots, clever panning shots to pull us into the next section. Williams and Jefferson are also standouts among the episode cast. These shows always had excellent actors and Paris Jefferson is especially powerful for me as Hettie, who most definitely is not a damsel in distress. When Lord Robert teases that she's more "wild and beautiful" than a great cat, he ironically does not realize how true that is.

While the film has been called both boring and confusing, I'd take issue with those. "Confusing" I can understand. Especially in the first third or so, you could say some parts are disjointed. I think we're purposely being fed scraps of information. "Boring" is the last word I'd use. I guess it doesn't move quickly, but for me it's a comfortable pace that allows the story to unfold and the viewer to absorb the things happening on screen. There are one or two sequences that are a bit shoehorned but they are minor to some other pretty effective editing choices. Such as the sequence of events on Holmes' night out or intercutting the wedding with Holmes in his flat.

Speaking of Holmes, I think Jeremy Brett is tremendous here: one of his finest performances as Holmes, however out of sorts the character may be--not a moment gone amiss. Some people think Brett is theatrical, affected, flamboyant, over the top, and so on. Guess what? He is and it's a style that, by the this point, he had, for my tastes, honed to perfection. It's evident to me that there's an incredible depth and intensity emotion that Brett drew upon in these performances. His depth shines on through as Sherlock's depth.

Regarding acting, props also to Anna Calder-Marshall, who has a strong dual role playing sisters. I'm not sure why she was cast in both roles (other than saving money) but it's done cleverly, as the actress's appearance is obscured for different reasons for both characters. Really, the whole cast cast is strong except for the man playing Hettie's love. Although he only appears briefly, he seems lifeless. I doubt he was/is authentically American. Maybe he was more preoccupied with the accent than the acting.

Contrary to some other reviewers, I would definitely recommend Holmes/mystery/film fans give this film a fair try, with as little clouded judgment from negative reviews as possible. Sure, it's weird; what's wrong with that?

One Foot in the Grave: The Wisdom of the Witch (1995) Season Unknown, Episode Unknown

An Episode Among the Absolute Best One Foot in the Graves Ever

[10/10 · 25 February 2013]

I'm a little surprised that there aren't any other reviews for this episode, since some of the other OFITGs individual episodes have reviews and I'd consider this one of the best, most memorable episodes ever. Mind you, I think there was never really an episode that was below par but some are especially good. And unlike you might expect, the longer Christmas specials were no exception; the show never suffered in my opinion from changing story format--and there were episodes that ranged from 30 to 90 minutes throughout the series. Indeed, the longer (60-90 min.) episodes were of such high quality that it's often like watching a little movie. In this one, one of the later specials (and this is a show that sometimes seemed to get *better* as it went on), things are even more convoluted and wacky and the extended time provides more opportunities to shove in subplots and sidetracks without the episode ever coming near falling apart.

Reading what information there is available on line about this series, I've learned that this special was originally conceived as the series finale and would have ended with Victor dying in his struggle with a violent intruder. The intruder subplot is still in the episode and having watched it a number of times, I can easily see how the story may have been adapted from that ending to what ended up on the air. This episode basically involves two major events that happen to coincide in time: the Meldrews' cousin Ursula dies suddenly, leaving a large in the countryside full of her things to take care of, and Patrick and Pippa, the Meldrews' next-doors, are finally moving away. That in itself is a major moment, as they'd been trying to sell their house for several years on the show and their neighborly relations (or lack thereof) with Victor had been a running element of the story. I can see how David Renwick may have conceived that element as a resolution to the series, since it wraps up a major plot line, alters a core aspect of the character dynamics (the neighbors aren't neighbors), and even though the show went on and Patrick and Pippa kept appearing intermittently, having them move on could conceivably have resolved that conflict with Victor that was so important in the show and resolved a major part of the premise the show had assumed since those two characters entered in the second series.

Basically, trying not to spoil too much, what can only be effectively described as a cluster**** occurs when Patrick's house-moving operation gets tangled up with Victor's house *clearance* operation and circumstance conspires to create a living hell for everyone involved. Also in the mix are a psycho jealous boyfriend, a very dodgy hotel, a giant tarantula, and a tarrot-reading witch who predicts that Victor will come to a bad end. It's also the middle of winter and the fact that there are blizzard conditions does nothing to help.

This is a particularly good episode for fans of Patrick and Victor, as those two end up spending lots of time together in forced confinement. Among other things, Patrick accidentally ends up locked in Victor's car boot (trunk) at one point, ending a really hilarious encounter between the two involving a bottle of toilet-freshner employed as a weapon. In an interesting turn, perhaps again suggesting that Renwick was originally trying to tie up all threads, Patrick and Victor actually start to get on for a bit while stuck together at Ursula's house during the snowstorm. One of the funniest moments comes when they are playing a board game while a bit tipsy, and instead of picking up the cup with the dice in it, Victor picks up the glass he was drinking from and, accidentally rolling his ice cubes and splattering his drink all over the table. But of course, that goes wrong goes wrong as well, when one of the most convoluted OFITG cock-ups ever comes to light. There is something very interesting and pleasurable about seeing the characters stuck with each other adverse circumstances. Maybe it's because one can relate in some way to all of the chaos and to those situations in which you are "trapped".

All in all, this is one of the best, funniest, and most memorable episodes. I would even suggest that a person could start with this episode, if they are willing to sit through an hour-long special. It doesn't set up or explain the original premise but you don't need to know all of that background to get and appreciate what's going on here and it gives a really good flavor, I think, of what the show is like and allows you to see it at its best.

One Foot in the Grave: The Big Sleep (1990) Season 1, Episode 2

Not a Snooze--a Landmark One Foot in the Grave

[9/10 · 25 February 2013]

This is episode two of the first series of One Foot in The Grave, and is a major episode that signaled the themes and storytelling tone of those to come. Some site the third episode, which involves a dead cat in the Meldrews' freezer as a landmark (first time dealing with animal cruelty, which recurred in the series), but I think this one does just as much if not more to set the show up and establish its unique and even challenging qualities.

As the episode title may suggest, it takes on the theme of the specter of death already implied in the series' premise. And does so in a darkly comedic way that shows that Renwick is serious about and good at his craft. The main plot starts with Victor learning that a cousin who was at his same time of life has died suddenly, which of course means a funeral to attend. His cousin turns out to have been an atheist and it doesn't make anyone more comfortable when one of the funeral speakers says there's no after life and the everyone will end up as the "contents of a vacuum cleaner".Victor tends to imagine that he has horrible diseases all the time and is understandably becoming stressed and having difficulty coping, both with the transition to retirement (seen in the first episode) and with thoughts of his own mortality as he ages. It's one of the sad and challenging facts of life that death is all around us, its specter always there and Renwick does something of a social service presenting an opportunity to cope through comedy. Trying to give Victor something to do and reassure him as to his good health, Margaret enrolls both of them in a fitness course. During the class, Victor is forced to listen to older people discussing their major health and mobility problems. To make matters worse, the health and fitness instructor, of all people, drops dead in the middle of a yoga exercise. This is completely typical of the bizarre twists and turns these stories take.

Even Victor himself has a death-related experience, in a way that is totally typical of this series and lives up to the word "unbelievable", the adjective most closely associated with it due to Victor's catchphrase. After contracting a disturbing skin rash, he falls asleep in the garden and wakes up after it's turned foggy out. His paranoia runs away with him and he thinks he's died. After stepping on a rake, he wakes up in hospital, thinking he's in Heaven and is meeting God, although he's actually just looking at another patient. I'll not spoil Victor's interesting words for the deity, although suffice it to say that in dealing with death, the writer does not exclude thoughts about the afterlife and the possibility of the almighty in some pretty daring and striking ways.

In a thematic coda, a cat kills a bird in Victor's garden. The garden was where Victor went to get away from it all. It was his place of peace and happiness. But death encroaches even here in the end, with the cat playing the Grim Reaper: a bigger animal overpowering a smaller, more vulnerable creature. And we know it's the way of nature that cats go after birds, and that even in beautiful things--like a garden--difficult, ugly, or negative things like death intrude. So Victor buries the bird and moves on as best he can.

Apart from the melancholy, tender scenes in the garden, the darkness is offset by a farcical subplot in which a window cleaner mistakenly accuses Victor of indecently exposing himself to her. Later on he is visited by two men he at first believes to be police officers but then realizes are Jehova's Witnesses. As he throws them, he fires off one of the best lines in the entirety of One Foot: "I know my rights: you can't search my soul without a warrant!" Of course even the ridiculous Jehova's Witness incident thus provides a loop back into the main plot by beginning to imply issues of religion and the afterlife. There are too many great lines and situations to discuss in full but I did have to point that one out, as its apt cleverness strikes me every time. This was a landmark episode that showed what OFITG was about. There would be many more than built upon the foundation of these early episodes, taking Victor's travels and travails through life to epic and hilarious extremes.

The Incredible Hulk: Two Godmothers (1981) Season 5, Episode 2

Interesting, femenine-centered episode

[7/10 · 10 August 2012]

Tne Hulk makes for interesting viewing for a number f reasons:

• Lovely bu obvious stock footage that classic TV buffs enjoy looking for (in this case, of rock slides triggered by explosions).

-Special effects that are never quite convincing no matter how much money seems to have been spent.

• The vacillating quality of acting and writing;

-And the aura of being transported back to middle America circa 1980.

In this case, David manages to end up on the run with three female felons, one of whom is nine months pregnant. I have to question the plausibility of their initial prison break, although perhaps it was more believable in 1981 than now, as well as the larger-than-life role the caricature prison authorities play, but at least Kathleen Nolan has the right mannerisms for an unstable warden with a chip on her shoulder, and there are some interesting characters here. The convicts' ringleader (Charney) seems to have some psychopathic tendencies, and there is dialogue heavily implying that she may have killed her husband or some man in her life. The younger pregnant woman has a surprise twin birth, apparently just to add another twist, although I suppose it could be a reminder about the coexistence of men and women, since there's one twin of each sex and the episode seemed to have been intentionally focused on women up to that point, It's suggested that this girl is more virtuous because she was only a get-away driver when she got caught up in something her boyfriend was doing. Make what you will of that.

It's not clear what the third woman did to get on jail. She's the least well-defined and seems too timid to do much of anything, although she could have snapped one day after years of being walked all over. At one point she says she isn't very good at birthing babies. It seems like this might be meant to give a clue about her past, but I can't work anything out. It seems like a dumb thing to say just for the heck of it. I mean, is anyone without medical training good at overseeing childbirth?

Overall, an episode with potentially interesting characters , and of course the great Bixby, but highly improbable and fraught with cliché character interactions and relationships and mixed acting.

Poirot: Murder on the Orient Express (2010) Season 12, Episode 3

Why Must People Murder 'Murder'...?

[9/10 · 2 June 2012]

I haven't a great deal to say at present regarding this episode. I thought it was quite excellent technically-- one of the best acted, directed, and photographed, as well as atmospheric--and the themes revolving around justice and morality quite powerful.

What I'm surprised and dismayed at are the people hurling abuse in some of these reviews. It's one thing to express a negative opinion. Fine; you have every right to do so. But it's the need to be so unkind, to say things that, if the subject were a person, would be considered abusive, that I find breathtaking and mystifying--calling it "horse manure", for instance. Some of this just strikes me as needlessly vitriolic, if not offensive. I suppose it's a better way than some to get feelings out, but still. Especially the fellow calling this " Pathetically British PC rubbish" or some such thing. He is perfectly entitled to adhere to an ideology that is more interested in preserving a sense of masculinity virility (powerful, "tough guy" attitude); it's his right to prefer brutish behavior over three-dimensional discussions of ethics and justice, and to see acts of vengeance and violence as somehow effective or productive-- but "Pathetically British"? Really? If you're going to insult Great Britain wholesale over a TV program ("British" refers to all of the nations of the UK, whereas "English" would be the term if one wished to refer only to the country of England), why are you watching British TV in the first place? I'm a natural-born US citizen, but I think it shows some gall to indulge in the product of another country and then, in what seems to me a rather prejudiced manner, turn around and insult not only that country but the entirety of the UK via political soapboxing. If you, for some strange reason, despise the British--or the English-- on ideological grounds and/or you choose to look down upon the entire nation(s), you're entitled to such an opinion, but it seems a wee bit hypocritical to choose to watch English television and then to voice seeming disdain for the English, condemning the entire nation in one fell swoop. Or was the reviewer judging all of the territories of the UK as if they were one? It's hard to tell; that could be what's meant by using the term "British"--but then again, that could be sheer ignorance. At the least, that reviewer was allowing his unfortunate biases or prejudices to cloud his review, and I would say his using this forum to smear the British is overall in very bad form.

There is also a typo in the reviewer's title; if you can't type properly, you are probably experiencing such a state of mind that you cannot think properly, either. At any rate, blindingly obvious, gratuitous typos don't auger well as to one's intellect, so one should always edit posts or other published writings carefully in order to avoid the appearance of thoughtlessness.

*****

Rant over--just getting that off of my chest.

Anyhow, as with virtually anything, I encourage everyone to try this film and decide for themselves based upon their own tastes and views. In my humble opinion, this film is far from excremental. If an excellently-acted, beautifully photographed film with a clever storyline and powerful themes and character explorations is an insult to Agatha Christie's memory, I hope someone insults me by making a film of this depth and artistic quality one day.

Poirot: Murder in Mesopotamia (2001) Season 8, Episode 2

Murder in Mesopotamia

[7/10 · 2 June 2012]

Unfortunately, this is one of the lesser Suchet 'Poirot' films in my opinion. The flaws are not, for the most part, with the film as a film. The production values are first rate, far better than as seen in many US television series. No expense appears to have been spared in finding a suitable shooting location and it is beautifully photographed. I have to assume that many of the archaeological artifacts shown are in fact props or replicas, but they too are well-rendered. And while a few reviewers have said the 100-minute film moves rather slowly, I can't say that I have any particular issues on the score of pacing or structure.

Acting is another aspect that rarely, if ever, lets down with this series and this film is no exception. The performances are generally excellent, although few of the episodic/supporting characters get to shine. The interaction between David Suchet's Poirot and Hugh Fraser's Captain Hastings is particularly amusing and well-done.

Among the supporting cast, the only characterization I didn't warm to was that of Dr. Liedner. It might just have been his questionable American accent, but something just wasn't quite there about his performance for me. This is compounded by the character's lack of development.

To be honest, this is one of the Christie novels I've not yet read, so I don't know if this also true of the source material, but Liedner just doesn't seem that well developed to me. As another reviewer said, it's enough of a stretch that his wife married him without realizing she was the same person as her first husband--but an even better question would be why Liedner initially faked his death. The basic conceit could actually be believable of a story set in current times, now that you can get surgery to completely alter your physical features--but that still doesn't explain an individual's motives pretending to be dead. Why did Liedner, after telling his wife he had survived the war, decide to shed his identity and pretend he had been killed in a chance railway accident. Unless I missed something, it's never adequately explained. He apparently had a mentally unstable brother, so perhaps mental problems run in the family, because the only possible explanation for the root of this murder's actions is that he is possibly psychopathic and simply enjoys controlling and terrorizing people, along with his intense insecurity/jealousy. I mention jealousy because, after he goes to the trouble of spontaneously abandoning his identity and then wooing and marrying his wife all over again, he kills her essentially because she falls in love with another man. I guess that's in character, because the whole time until she married him again he kept sending her threatening letters every time she saw someone else--but it still doesn't explain why disappear in the first place. The whole story would make much more sense if a reason were given as to why he *had* to disappear or seem to be no longer alive; something that meant he couldn't be with his wife for many years. This would also better explain the jealous notes: if he couldn't be with her, no one else would be either. This would make sense of his wanting her but not going near her for years on end.

If there was any more than this in the novel Exton should not have excised it. If there wasn't, a little more back-story of some sort should have been added to better explain Liedner. I also found the presentation of the flashbacks slightly clumsy in terms of the visuals used, and the clue of the unfinished letter Ms. Johnson found could have been better staged. Again, not sure if that's in the novel, but as far as I'm concerned, if a change needs to be made to enhance the characters, drama, or presentation, particularly if it's to help the story translate to the visual medium, then that change should be made. The purists can simply reread the novel time and again if that's the only thing that's going to make them happy. I would rather a film that works in its own right than one that adheres religiously to its source text. And I feel that this one, although a solid piece, has some short comings, some because of the adaptation and some probably not.

On a much nicer note, I enjoy going back and watching the episodes with Hastings from time to time. His character is always warm and pleasurable, and while I think the Poirot films made after this one are for the most part superior to it, Hugh Fraser is always excellent. I believe this episode from 2001 is the last in which Hastings

has appeared as yet.

This is a solid but not excellent film, with some story issues that probably result more from the source material than the adaptation. Fans should, of course, view and decide for themselves if they have not done. However, for newcomers or those wishing to hit the highlights, there are many I'd recommend over this. Along with most of the '80s and '90s episodes, I would also recommend over this title any film made from 2008 on, including the much unfairly maligned 'Appointment with Death', which I think is a far better attempt at archaeologically-theme mystery than this one. For the films between this one and 2008, to be honest I would have to go back and view all of those again before judging them relative to this one.

7/10: Don't be fooled into thinking I despised this film. I just think there are considerably stronger ones about.