Two more Serling episodes; the first a haunting eulogy for the manifest destiny of space exploration as experienced by three men; the second a cautionary tale about knowing when to fold 'em and when to walk away.
The triumphant return of "Television Snippets" has arrived. Not only am I past a 3,000 mile move from one coast of the US to another, but the Fall season has completely wrapped up, the Olympics have come and gone, and the Spring season is officially back. Sure, I could have come back in January, but shows only came back for 3 weeks or so before the Olympics, so I figured I'd wait until now.
Note: I won't be talking about ratings this week because of the Olympics (the last time I'll mention them, I promise).
We come to our first episode not written by series mastermind Rod Serling, a psychological horror entry by Charles Beaumont blurring the line between reality and dreams. Then, Serling's own take on a nightmare, his not an internalized terror but an eternity of horror wrought by who else but the main character himself.
Two marvelous episodes, both ultimately dealing with the theme of isolation and loneliness. Even more, one could almost start where the other ends, the climactic end-of-the-world as seen from a singular viewpoint melding into a view of a planet with only one inhabitant.
Two very different episodes. The first among the most poignant and profound episodes of all television, a revealing and emotional reverie from Serling's heart; the second a strange, better-left-forgotten bit of Faustian drama that only appears worse on the heels of Serling's magnum opus.
Animation has always had a hall of heroes. From the early days when cartooning was little more than static images on a page with little word blurbs to today’s modern era of high-quality animation with the likes of Hayao Miyazaki and Pixar, each generation has its highest echelons to which all others strive to equal. Forty to fifty years ago the men to beat included Mel Blanc, Walt Disney, William Hanna and Joseph Barbera. Needless to say there are new illustrators on the throne and it’s fair to speculate that they’ll leave as long a lasting impression as the greats who came before. Like in the past, don't be surprised if a large share of the animating bests come from television, it does seem to be the medium where it thrives most.
If you're a LOST fanatic like me, you were likely as glued to the television screen as I was last Tuesday night when the final season of this magnificent sci-fi show premiered. Like many of you, I was scratching my head as to what the hell the writers are up to for this season, and was rabidly speculating theories with my friends.
Amidst the brain melting scrutinizing, however, I found the time to geek out over two guest stars I love: the always likable John Hawkes (Deadwood, Eastbound & Down) and Japanese badass Hiroyuki Sanada (Ring, The Twilight Samurai, Sunshine).
Episodes 3 and 4 of the inaugural season saw Serling tackling classic Hollywood: "Mr. Denton on Doomsday" challenges the moral codes of Hollywood westerns and "The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine" examines the short shelf-life of classic starlets, not to mention giving Serling's own sentimentalist take on Wilder's caustic Sunset Boulevard.
Before he was a Boston lawyer, hell, before he was captain of a starship or a maddened passenger on a supernaturally vandalized flight, William Shatner roamed the Shakespearean stage. It is the exprience from those days that bestowed him the gift of reinterpreting songs like "Rocket Man" or Sarah Palin's Twitter page into spoken word poetry. Last night on WWE Raw, Shatner took up the challenge of doing the same to the entrance songs of some of your favorite WWE wrestlers. Here is the result.
It has become a classic television trope: out of boredom, or inspiration, or celebration, television creators are occasionally overpowered with the urge to break out the big production number and turn a normally prosaic show into a song and dance extravaganza.
Most recently, How I Met Your Mother celebrated its 100th episode with a rousing production number, “Nothing Suits Me Like a Suit.” But the phenomenon has been building for years, with decidedly mixed results. I was curious to see how successful (or painful) various television shows have been at attempting to be tuneful. I have differing levels of familiarity with the source materials, but I tried to wade in with an open mind, a song in my heart, and a spring in my step.
Animation has always had a hall of heroes. From the early days when cartooning was little more than static images on a page with little word blurbs to today’s modern era of high-quality animation with the likes of Hayao Miyazaki and Pixar, each generation has its highest echelons to which all others strive to equal. Forty to fifty years ago the men to beat included Mel Blanc, Walt Disney, William Hanna and Joseph Barbera. Needless to say there are new illustrators on the throne and it’s fair to speculate that they’ll leave as long a lasting impression as the greats who came before. Like in the past, don't be surprised if a large share of the animating bests come from television, it does seem to be the medium where it thrives most.
