Dollhouse - Season One

WARNING: This season recap/assessment will contain some major spoilers for the entirety of Dollhouse's 12 Episode run.

It was late in the throes of the 2007-2008 WGA/AMPTP Strike that sci-fi guru Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly/Serenity) announced that he would be reteaming with BtVS alum Eliza Dushku to create a new series for broadcast television. On the outside this sounds like a brilliant prospect, however there was a catch. He'd be helming the project on FOX, the same network that gave Firefly a snowball's chance in hell when it premiered back in 2002. Despite the bad vibes on the initial outset of the project, it seemed Whedon had another ace up his sleeve. While the strike was going full steam, an independent internet exclusive project was conceived with friends, series alums and family. That project was Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-Long Blog, which evidently blew the top off of the internet when it premiered in mid July.

Then the bad news started to filter in, sometime in early fall. The internet promos for the show had just started to pop up on FOX's website when it was revealed that FOX was not a fan of the pilot episode Whedon had produced for the series. The episode, entitled "Echo," was ultimately scrapped (though I've read a draft of the original script and cannot wait to see it and the yet unaired 13th episode "Epitaph One" on the full season DVD that's due out this July) and key elements were cannibalized and put to use in the newly structured early season episodes. This is about when the "Save Dollhouse" campaigns started up. A full 6 months before the new pilot episode (now entitled "Ghost") hit the airwaves. Another punch to the gut arrived when it was announced that the series would air on Friday nights at 9pm. Otherwise known as the "Death Slot" in TV terms.

So the bloggers blogged and the nay-sayers continued to nay-say and the premiere date approached rapidly. February 13th (yes, Friday the 13th, ominous) arrived and "Ghost" premiered. I'll have to say, it was better than a great deal of other television shows on the air at the time and DID contain a fair amount of Whedonism to it, but it also had the stink of network intervention all over it. The first five episodes really only held a handful of series mythology about them though they did assist in laying the groundwork for the final seven episodes where it became blatantly obvious that Whedon regained full control of his pet-project.

The premise for Dollhouse is not simple and is honestly a little off-putting at first glance. The Dollhouse is an underground organization that commissions "volunteers" to have their memories completely erased so that they can be uploaded with a new set of memories and skill-sets to carry out "engagements" with high paying clients. Between "engagements" the "Actives," as they're referred to, exist in the Dollhouse's facility as blank slates. They have no emotion and no personality whatsoever. Eliza Dushku plays Echo (all the Actives are named after the NATO military alphabet, other regularly featured actives include Sierra, Victor and November,) who starts off the series in the early stages of her 5 year contract with the Dollhouse. Within the first 5 episodes (which played like "engagement of the week" television) it becomes clear that Echo is somehow maintaining small bits of each downloaded personality. Along with Echo's glitching brain is FBI agent Paul Ballard who is determined to expose the Dollhouse despite not having anyone even believe it exists, let alone help him bring it down. There's also the resident Dollhouse Boogeyman, otherwise known as the rogue Active named Alpha, who murdered several Actives and Staffers before he was supposedly "killed." Though he manages to shake things up early in the season from behind the scenes before making his grand re-entrance at season's end.

The season seemed to make a full U-turn at episode six, "Man on the Street," which was written by Joss Whedon himself. It shook up the previous format of "engagement of the week" and focused more on Ballard's solo-investigation of the Dollhouse and explored the morally gray organization that IS The Dollhouse. Who pays for this service and ultimately WHY they pay for it. It was also revealed this episode (after a killer fight between an imprinted Echo and Paul Ballard) that there was a mole in the Dollhouse willing to help Paul, as long as he doesn't get himself killed sticking his nose too far where it doesn't belong.

From this episode forward, we were delivered heavy doses of mythology, character development and ultimately, Alpha's return (played by Whedon's Firefly alum, Alan Tudyk.) The theme for the season (and possibly the series, should it get renewed or not... fingers crossed) is, are the memories that make us up all that we are? Are our minds and bodies one or separate? Should one lose the other are we not still the same person, or just the empty shell of that person? In short, the existence of the soul, or the ultimate act of self-realization. Based on the chilling final moments of the 12th episode (entitled "Omega,") the human spirit will overcome the obstacles that are placed in front of it, despite that which makes up the person being forcefully taken away.

Unfortunately from the outset, Dollhouse found itself in a ratings spiral. It's live audience dwindled as the weeks progressed (though the Nielsen rating system is so outdated, it pains me to think that it's still being used successfully) though it's DVR/TiVo bump and hits on Hulu have been substantial enough to point out a niche audience that's developed. The initial lead in my dying-on-its-feet series Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles didn't seem to do Dollhouse any favors and after that ended as abruptly as it began, the death-rattle episodes of canceled series Prison Break seemed to eradicate any carry-over viewers that might've been. FOX announces their 2009-2010 schedule on May 18th and the odds are stacked against Joss Whedon and company. Through a small miracle, there may yet be another season of Dollhouse (the first season is available for pre-order on Amazon.com, releasing on July 28th) and the crew is remaining hopeful.

UPDATE 5-16-09: While FOX will unveil this on 5-18, Dollhouse has been picked up for 13 more episodes in the fall. Welcome, Season 2!

Star Trek

I'll start this off by listing some things I know about Star Trek. Chekov pronounces the word "missile" like "wessel." Vulcans have pointy ears. Klingons are bad (except for Worf.) Tribbles are all fur. The Next Generation was pretty good for a long time. Enterprise was not. In short. I really know next to nothing about Star Trek in it's 40-some odd year existence in pop-culture, enough to get the in-jokes on Futurama, but that's about it. The thing is, I've never really felt compelled to get to know Star Trek. It's the kid in school that you knew you had things in common with, but the nagging feeling that there was enough contrast in your shared commonality to disuade from actually gearing up a conversation. And it never gave me a reason to BE compelled.

That is, until it was announced that the series was to be rebooted by none other than Geek-Media Guru, J.J. Abrams.

I've been a fan of Abrams' work since just before the second season of Lost hit the airwaves. Hell, I even enjoyed Mission: Impossible III (despite the presence of a certain Scientologist that will remain named Tom Cruise,) but taking on a property that I'd had no prior relationship with seemed intriguing. Re-teaming with his Alias alums and current Fringe show-runners Alex Kurtzman and Roberto Orci (who were also responsible for the disastrous Transformers movie at the hands of pompous actioneer Michael Bay,) and casting relative unknowns in the lead roles, the new Trek seemed to be a mixed bag before any actual footage was even released. My skepticism was proven wrong at the release of the first trailer and again after seeing the film in it's entirety. This movie is awesome. Plain and simple and I'll go as far as to say that it's better than The Wrath of Khan, and THAT's saying something.

Now, this is far from both your typical Star Trek film and franchise reboot (Batman Begins, Casino Royale to name the good ones.) The script functions in a way that allows us to see the beginnings of James T. Kirk's command of Starship Enterprise without overwriting the tales that preceded when William Shatner was still sporting the mustard yellow StarFleet Captain's tunic. Which is to say, it doesn't steamroll the canon of the original series (television or film.) The core plot essentially involves the formation of the classic enterprise crew through the vengeful machinations of Romulan enemy, Nero (played by a nearly unrecognizable, Eric Bana.) Each crew member is given their character defining moment, with more emphasis on Kirk and Spock (naturally, as they are the focal point of the series with vastly deeper motivations in this new chapter.)

The casting was impressive, pulling in relatively unknown actors with fairly impressive resumes to boot. Newcomer Chris Pine delivers an angstier version of Kirk, as a "wrong side of the tracks" kid who makes good in the Star Fleet, whether they'd like him to or not. Heroes alum Zachary Quinto is a dead ringer for Spock with his silly bowl haircut and upturned eyebrows (which was funny in light of his typical "Sylar" uni-brow.) Zoe Saldana takes on Uhura who manages to transcend the title of lowly "communications officer." Anton Yelchin is a young Pavel Chekov, complete with silly accent, and Simon Pegg (of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz fame) returns to the arms of an Abrams project (we last say them together on M:I3) as Montgomery "Scotty" Scott and John Cho (Harold of Harold and Kumar) plays a pretty convincing Sulu (and not just because he's Asian... However, my favorite character in the ensemble was Karl Urban's Leonard "Bones" McCoy. While not as crotchety as DeForest Kelley, Urban gives "Bones" an air of hypochondrial pragmatism, which makes for a certain type of cynical comic relief at times.

One of the major detractors from the original series for me had always been the static space battle sequences that always took place on the bridge of the Enterprise. Kirk shouts "Fire the proton torpedoes," everyone stares, someone shouts out "Incoming," the entire room shakes and a few people fall down. Granted, this format of space action is still present in the new Trek, but the way it's written, blocked and directed it seems much more dire and immersive than it was in previous incarnations. The inner layout of the Enterprise is still as confusing as ever, though as large a scale vessel as it's supposed to be, I'm not sure the navigability is of the highest priority. Turn right at the red corridor and enter the big double sliding doors to get to the bridge. Done. Next scene.

Beaming technology is given a slightly more advanced explanation or at least a more technical approach beyond the traditional "Beam me up, Scotty" as well as an updated special effects treatment. There's also a fair amount of off-ship action too, and Abrams has both the scope and the budget to make it look nothing short of awesome (the skydiving and atmospheric platform fight come to mind.) Last but not least, Nero's Romulan ship design was unrequited amounts of awesome.

I truly hope this paves the way for more chapters in this new era of Star Trek and if J.J. and company are involved, even better. There's a shortage of decent "Space Sci-Fi" out there these days and it makes me feel good to see someone do it right for a change (I'm NOT looking at you, George Lucas!) And before you step onto the Starship's Molecular Transporter, you might want to re-think that red shirt you're wearing...

The Wrestler

Though Darren Aronofsky's career hasn't been that of commercial successes, his short but powerful resume has mustered a hefty amount of critical acclaim. Beginning with the quirky math-thriller Pi and his painfully honest adaptation of Hubert Selby Jr's novel Requiem for a Dream. After a long and troubled production on his 3rd film, the fantasy parable The Fountain, which was ultimately panned by critics, Aronofsky stepped back to the small scale character drama The Wrestler featuring the comeback of former Hollywood heartthrob turned hulking behemoth, Mickey Rourke.

Adorned with flowing blond locks and about 35 extra pounds of muscle-mass, Rourke re-emerges on the big screen (small screen if you missed the theatrical release like me) as the washed up pro-wrestler Randy "The Ram" Robinson. We only get a glimpse of his former glory in the opening credits, awash with main event posters set to the various over-enthusiastic announcers and Quiet Riot's "Bang Your Head" (which also doubles as The Ram's entrance music in later scenes,) but any pro-wrestler that has his own action figure (sadly displayed on the dash of his beat up van) and Nintendo Game representation was a big deal in his glory days.

Aronofsky's work is no stranger to personal tragedy and "The Ram" is no exception. Immediately following the credits we're greeted with a "20 Years Later" title matched with a shot of Rourke sitting in a locker room with his back to us. And the sadness begins. The tale of Randy "The Ram" Robinson is that of a man who never created a coping mechanism for the real world, having spent the majority of his adult life in the pro-wrestling circuit (so we're led to believe) in front of the camera as an entertainer. In essense, he's a horse put out to pasture with no intention of dying on someone elses terms. Trying desperately to hang on to who he once was by partaking in small circuit matches and conventions on the weekends, a day job is seemingly out of the question. Though maintaining said lifestyle (heavy training, enhancement drugs, booze and strippers) without the benefit of the big WWE bucks presents a challange in and of itself. And then his heart gives out.

A large portion of the film (including the first 10 minutes of so before we even see Randy's face) is shot handheld, following behind the character. It wasn't until a key moment that I realized exactly what the purpose was. Having seen a handful of WWE shows on television, the camera will follow a given opponent through the green-rooms and back hallways on their way to a match. This aspect of Randy's former lifestyle was seamlessly applied to his everyday life, adding more weight to the tragic narrative that is The Ballad of Randy "The Ram" Robinson.

Of course all the "Resurrection of Mickey Rourke" talk is completely true. Since he re-emerged from his bare-knuckle boxing days looking less Rocky Balboa more Rocky Dennis, he's knocked out a few roles here and there (the most memorable being the oafish hard-luck Marv from Sin City, less so was his hard-ass mercenary from Domino) but nothing with the dramatic weight that he displays in The Wrestler. It's one thing to be able to spout one-liners and act thuggish, but it's another kind of talent to make an audience feel sympathy for someone who, at the end of the day, really deserves none. Marisa Tomei reins in a performance infinitely more deserving of the Oscar she claimed back in '93 (granted the competition was tighter this year) and Evan Rachel Wood pulls off some of the most heart-wrenching verbal fights I've seen onscreen in recent years (granted I haven't seen Revolutionary Road yet.) Stepping the realism up a few more notches are the actual indie-circuit wrestlers that make up "The Ram's" opponents throughout the story, some of the stunts (staples, barbed wire, hidden razors for impromptu bleeding in the ring) I am still not certain were "effects" or not.

After seeing this (and subsequently seeing it performed live not long ago,) I think it's an outright travesty that Bruce Springsteen's song of the same title as the film wasn't even nominated for an award by the Academy this year. I mean, I'm glad Slumdog Millionaire swept the way it did, but this song is nothing short of epic. And it's The Boss. I mean, come on.

Darren Aronofsky has proven himself to be not just a good filmmaker, but an exceptional one. In a way, I almost prefer that he maintains his footing on the edge of the mainstream industry, shepherding in new talent the likes of Rian Johnson (Brick and the upcoming Brothers Bloom) and Brad Anderson (The Machinist and Transiberian.) With four wildly diverse films under his belt, I'm eagerly anticipating whatever comes next in Mr. Aronofsky's expanding resume.

Crank: High Voltage

WARNING: EXPLICIT LANGUAGE CONTAINED IN THE FOLLOWING REVIEW...

Ok. Since the movie in question is hands down the most ridiculous thing I've seen onscreen since Shoot 'Em Up (and Crank 1 before that,) I'm going to dispense with the formalities and make this review as crass as the movie itself. Also... Spoiler Warning. Just putting it out there.

Holy shit! You knew after seeing the end of Crank that somehow, some way they'd bring back errant bad ass, Jason Statham, for a follow up, and boy did they ever deliver. The answer? Robot Heart. That's right. They gave Chev fuckin' Chelios a goddamn robot heart.

Now the premise of Crank was that his bloodstream was toxified with an agent that required him to maintain a constant release of adrenaline. This made for all kinds of absurd behavior, ranging from racial slurs in a gang bar to coke snorting all the way to sex in public. This time, with said robot heart dependent on an electrical charge every... let's say five minutes (as it were in the movie, at least) this allows for even more absurd behavior, ranging from (but not limited to) jumper-cables on the nipple and tongue (see complementary poster above...) tazers, car cigarette lighters and yet another foray into PDA.

So far, the Crank series is the stupidest set of movies I'm not afraid to admit I absolutely love. It's probably because the movie is operating on a level of self-awareness that most actioneers should be striving for (take notes Michael Bay...) Crank 2 doesn't just wink at the camera, it laughs at it and outright gives it the finger (literally.) Most of what goes on in Crank 2 happens, quite simply, because it can. Godzilla homage? Sure. Genital mutilation? Why not.

Predecessor alums Amy Smart, Dwight Yoakam and Efren Ramirez return for the craziness (and honestly, who wouldn't?) while adding some new (yet familiar) faces including Clifton Collins Jr. (Capote,) Corey Haim (rehab), and Bai Ling (who is eccentric enough as it is, when added to the Crank recipe, is all but unbearably obnoxious.) Not to mention a slew of pseudo-celebrity cameos (David Carradine, Geri Halliwell and Lloyd Kaufman among others) that you'll likely not even notice unless you scour the imdb.com page.

Though, for me, one of the higher points of praise for Crank: High Voltage was the score by none other than alternative-noise rock-savant, Mike Patton. Less influenced by his tenure in Faith No More and more by projects like Mr. Bungle and his solo material, the accompanying soundtrack compliments the frenetic attitude the film sets out on within the first 10 seconds. What ensues is the audible equivilent of a schizophrenic's crack nightmare that takes place at a circus freakshow from hell. You'll know what I'm talking about when you hear it.

Crank: High Voltage is not to be taken seriously. It exists simply because it can and succeeds at pushing the envelope as far as it can go, and then gives it one last shove off the cliff (or out of the plane, if we're taking the first film into consideration.)

Let the Right One In

From every critic and friend I know that's seen this movie, they've all said about the same thing. "This is probably the best horror movie I've seen this year." Whether they're referring to 2008 or 2009, it's still a valid statement. And, yes, it was unnecessarily cock-blocked for a nomination in Best Foreign Film by the Academy. It's movies like this and The Strangers that remind me what it is I love about horror movies. You can assault my visual senses with gore and violence all you want, but you'll be hard pressed to actually scare me with any of it. The creepy-factor comes from atmosphere and tone (see also, The Strangers, Session 9, Jacob's Ladder, etc.) Something that makes me feel as uncomfortable as the characters do.

Let the Right One In is a Swedish film based on a book of the same nationality and title (soon to be remade here in the states, and we all know how those end up, so don't get me started...) With the unfortunate timing to be released the same year as the trainwreck of a blockbuster Twilight, Let the Right One In almost serves as the soon-to-be franchises evil (read: cooler) twin. Both involve vampires (Twilight uses the term vampire as loosely as can allow,) a feeling of loneliness and a forbidden love. The major difference is that the latter of the two actually manages to succeed at all three. So let's just forget that Twilight doesn't exist for the duration of the review, shall we?

The subtlety of Let the Right One In is what makes it effectively scary. A major sin in the American horror industry is that spectacles of violence and gore are amped up and overblown with flashy close ups and anticipatory swells in the accompanying musical score. LtROI doesn't rely on such visual trickery to be effective. The fact that the despicable acts are treated as equally to the rest of the film (and at times underplayed) make them harder to stomach, comparatively. The gore and violence is far from excessive, which actually makes it feel that much more disturbing when it does come up.

Almost immediately after the DVD release, there were complaints and rants circulating the internet regarding the English subtitles for the US release being abbreviated and "dumbed down." I've seen the comparisons and there is a substantial chunk that was omitted (for no other reason, assuming, than to cater to a DVD audience that doesn't like reading,) though having seen the edited subs, it really doesn't affect the overall experience of the film. While the dialog IS an important aspect of any movie, Let the Right One In relies more on tone in the end.

Sadly, with any successful overseas genre piece, Hollywood has already bought the rights to the source material (novel) and greenlit the American remake, which will no doubt age the characters up to acceptable social standards and spell out every implied nuance in the story. Before this (expected) attrocity hits the theaters (in a wider release than it's predecessor,) do yourself a favor and see the Swedish version.

Watchmen

March 6th, 2009 (3-6-9, get it?) is the date when this years films actually take off. Alan Moore's epic satirical, socio-political opus hits the big screen after more than ten years of production hell. Even with the preview out the gate, the legal mishaps with FOX made it seem like we'd never really get to see Watchmen come to life the way it was really meant to. I could go on and on about all the inconsistencies from the graphic novel and all the bits and pieces they left out and switched around, but when it comes down to it, I really did like Watchmen. Quite a bit. Was it perfect? No. Was it worth watching? Of course.

It's been a long hard road from the graphic novel to the big screen for Watchmen. Being passed between studios. Getting the green light only to get almost immediately yanked from the "in production" list. In a way, Robert Rodriguez's almost too faithful (and not in a bad way) adaptation of Frank Miller's Sin City that paved the way for Watchmen's success as a film. Director Zack Snyder's previous engagement (Frank Miller's Spartan swords and sandals epic 300) proved that even without a decent narrative behind it, his visual style was well suited for the comic book movie medium. The adaptation is ultimately faithful to the source material, the only exceptions being the exclusion of a vast amount of subsidiary character material (Rorschach's therapist is a footnote in the film and the newsstand owner and the comic book reading kid are only seen once with no dialog and never expounded upon) and some of the narrative structure at the end is rearranged, I would assume to add more cinematic and dramatic weight (even though the understated subtlety was what sold the finale graphic novel, in my opinion.) Also (spoiler alert) no giant squid monster...

Visually, the movie was gorgeous. With only a slight redesign to some of the outfits (especially Night Owl II's) the characters were spot on, though Patrick Wilson (Hard Candy) could've afforded to add a few more pounds of pudge to his Dan Dreiberg, the rest of his look as the sullen ex-masked vigilante was great. Possibly the most challenging part of Watchmen to sell on the big screen is, of course, Doctor Manhattan. There are only so many ways you can handle a blue, muscle-bound demi-god (one of the earliest casting rumors from the 90's was Arnold Schwarzenegger and thank god that one never happened,) and Snyder and crew opted for a full CG-MoCap paired with the voice of a soft spoken Billy Crudup. His gentle tone conveys both a sense of all-knowing bewilderment and omniscient curiosity. Casting win on that one, for sure.

Really, my only other grievance with the film was Snyder's penchant for this whole slo-mo thing. Don't get me wrong, it has it's time and place (namely in 1999 when The Matrix came out, but that's just me.) For a film that ran over normal run-time expectations outside a rebooted Batman sequel, for the amount of material that was partitioned out of the story, the action sure took it's sweet time. If they'd run them all in real time, I may have been more impressed with it and there might've been an extra 15 minutes or so for those peripheral characters I was talking about a few paragraphs back. While I'm on the subject of the slo-mo... the sex scene was a bit much. It reminded me almost shot for shot of the sex scene between King Leonidas (Gerard Butler) and Queen Gorgo (Lena Headey) in 300. While the scene is a necessary step for the characters in question, what ensued was borderline Cinemax late night material.

All in all, this is the best adaptation of Watchmen that we'll get this decade. They've taken a graphic novel that was described as "unfilmable" (and honestly, some parts of it ARE just that) and kept it as faithful to the source material as a Hollywood superhero vehicle would allow and kudos to Zack Snyder for that one. Then again, there's always the inevitable (and already announced) director's cut sporting an additional 35 minutes and the Tales of the Black Freighter/Under the Hood DVDs on the way.

Repo! The Genetic Opera

This movie tears me apart because a month and a half after the fact, I still don't have a clear opinion on it. And the sad thing about it is that I really really wanted to like it. For all intents and purposes the odds were stacked against it from the start. It comes from the guy (Darren Lynn Bousman) who directed Saw 2-4, which I did not like. At all. Also the cast was made up of actors I love, respect, couldn't care less about and downright loath.

My dissension may come from the venue in which I viewed the movie. Since the studio gave Repo! such a miniscule release, the writer and director took the movie on tour to small theaters across America in order to garner a fanbase. That said, this required a drive to Maryland and a stay in a hotel, so I'm already invested in this movie whether I wanted to be or not. Once at the theater there are about 20 or so people decked out in costume. There was a brief intro by the theater owner and Darren the director before then the lights went down and the movie started. First things first, apparently we'd decided to attend the showing with a theater full of would-be Mike Nelsons (MST3K) who instead of tossing clever witticisms at a movie deserving of ridicule, shouted mindless brain-vomit at the screen presenting a movie I'd paid money (and gas money and hotel stay) to view with little to no interruption. That being said, here is my assessment of the film itself.

Repo! The Genetic Opera is better in idea than execution, in fact, the trailer was more enticing and well put together than the final product. Budgetary restrictions aside (made for only $8.5 million) the script seemed a bit sophomoric and underdeveloped and the musical numbers, while diverse enough, just didn't hold together. There was a vast amount of backstory that was glossed over in illustrated comic book panel interludes that felt more like an interruption to the story than a relevant insertion of important character material. Overall, I really felt that when everything was said and done, nothing ultimately got accomplished.

On the opposite spectrum, the acting was pretty good (with the exception of Paris Hilton, but her character was meant to be obnoxious and snobby, so not a huge stretch.) Buffy the Vampire Slayer alum Anthony Stewart Head always impresses, especially when singing (see "Once More With Feeling.") One thing this movie has going for it is diversity. You've got Sarah Brightman and Paul Sorvino, both accomplished opera professionals and then Ogre, best known for his post-industrial act Skinny Puppy. Throw in Bill Mosely and the kid from Spy Kids (Alexa Vega, she pushed me out of the way after the screening and Q&A, she is short) and you've got the weirdest ensemble I've seen since Southland Tales.

While not great, I'm sure I'd be up for watching it again in a full room if the right amount of drinks were involved. Though, it's good to see movies like this are still being made. Whether it was well received or not, this is a labor of love on the filmmaker's parts and for better or worse, they got it done the way they wanted it to be. It's just not the cup of tea I ordered.