Life

Pretty generic-sounding title, wouldn't you say?

The same could be said in regard to using that title for a TV show. That's one reason I wasn't inspired to try "Life" (2007, apparently?) for a very long time. A second is that detectives solving a crime week after week is not my typical genre. But I noticed it again when I was browsing Netflix.

Then I checked the cast: Damian Lewis, Sarah Shahi, Adam Arkin, Donal Logue. And the recurring cast includes Christina Hendricks, Titus Welliver, Garret Dillahunt, Jessy Schram. Not too shabby at all... They're clearly enjoying the chance to portray characters who have striking if off-kilter personalities, with distinctive viewpoints and philosophies. The heroes have imperfections and hang-ups. They use unconventional strategies. They have complicated histories.

For the central character Charlie Crews, his history is mixed up with an ongoing mystery: what are the actual circumstances of the case that put him in prison? I tend to wonder if this mystery would have ended up increasingly convoluted and overstretched, but it stays intriguing enough during the limited time this show was in production. It provides a driving force to the main character. His attempts to resolve his past give each episode more variety and interest.

To its credit, "Life" explores not only the plotline of his past but its two-sided role in his current mental state. Often, a tragic past either dominates a character completely or it appears to barely matter at all. For Charlie, his trauma has unavoidable effects on him, yet he presently chooses what to do with those effects. He feels and remembers the experiences that inform his existence, yet he consciously decides to keep his focus on the struggles and joys which are available now. He can't erase his pains, yet he doesn't need to. All the same, I could understand if some viewers, in full sympathy with his partner Dani, are merely irked by his outward whimsicalness. Doesn't Charlie know that he's supposed to be emotionally devastated?

supernatural sci-fi redux: the Lost series finale

A long while ago I registered my annoyance at 1) applying the "sci-fi" label/category to fiction that contains supernatural elements (or indeed any elements that don't have fictional science justifications) and 2) fiction whose level of fantasy or "science-hardness" is inconsistent and sloppy, which provokes the "sci-fi" mislabeling.

I still feel my "supernatural sci-fi annoyance". For instance, it hindered but surely didn't squelch my enjoyment of the "BSG" series finale (Et tu, Starbuck?). However, I'm genuinely surprised by online reviews that express the same sentiment about the "Lost" series finale. Almost from the very start, "Lost" has emphatically teased supernatural elements. As the series went on, the show contained a smorgasbord of world religions, psychics, manifestations, energy healing, power-harnessing ruins (in the vein of Indiana Jones?), immortality, prophetic intuitions. Although sci-fi stories have often ended with intricate and thinly-stretched explanations behind everything that  appeared to be supernatural, it was increasingly unlikely that the writers of "Lost" would go down that path. After the episode "Across the Sea", the series finale was certain to feature a supernatural resolution. The rather bald form it took was merely an interesting stylistic choice consistent with the series' entire approach of eager religious inclusion.

P.S. my incorrect theory:

I guessed that the island was a "junction point" between space, time, and alternate universes. The island appeared to jump around in space and time relative to the rest of the world because its synchronization to it is continuously in flux. When the Monster spoke of being trapped and wanting to leave, I thought he meant that Jacob had somehow kidnapped him from the universe of the "flash-sideways". If the Monster managed to return to his own universe, then the survivors' counterparts in that universe would be in peril. Hence the warning that the Monster would "destroy everyone" if he managed to leave. Jacob's omniscience, sense of destiny, and comments about "progress" all came from his knowledge of every universe, time, and possibility. This "island knowledge" was absorbed on a much smaller scale by Locke and others, who experienced it as ineffable "guidance" because recognizing it consciously would overload their minds. In the finale, the consciousness of each of the survivors would be somehow completely synchronized and fused with their counterparts' in the sideways universe. This fusion would resemble Desmond's special ability to experience all points in time. By doing so, they would "live on" in a sense, after it became necessary to demolish the island in our universe to stop the Monster and prevent further such problems. The time traveling in season 5 was caused by the consciousnesses of the survivors working to stay in sync together as the island was "off its axis" and shifting around them. When the Six returned, they were pulled back in time to the others through the same mechanism ('course, that doesn't explain why Sun stayed in the present instead of meeting Jin...). I'm positive my theory had many holes, too, but I thought it would've made for an incredible finale.

P.P.S. my early-season incorrect theory (added May 30)

Early in season 6, my theory was that the explosion the ended season 5 had worked (recall Juliet said "It worked")...more or less. The "sideways" reality was in fact the new "actual" timeline. However, due to the island having a complicated relationship (to say the least!) with time itself, there were two complications: 1) the consciousnesses of the survivors were thrown back to an "island present" that existed in a limbo-like half-real state, 2) with the island now destroyed its malevolent god, i.e. the Monster, would finally be set free to do eeeeevil in the rest of the world. My metaphysical assumption was that the god was deeply tied to the island's very existence. The only reason the island continued to exist in "limbo" after the bomb went off was because of the Monster still being there. Once the Monster left, his presence would no longer support the island and its limbo reality, all of the events of the series would be fully undone, and the Monster would emerge into the new submerged-island timeline.

But the Monster couldn't leave until Jacob and his candidates were either dead or agreed to leave. A second assumption of mine was that in the far past, Jacob had somehow managed to trick the Monster into splitting power and authority with him. That is, in the ancient history of the island before Jacob, the Monster had been a cruel god who ruled harshly. Jacob's trick reduced him to a smoke monster who was 1) subservient to Jacob's dictates, 2) served an island role of protector and judge/executioner. (Jacob couldn't outright-kill the Monster because his own power and authority had originally come from him; the Monster would've just reabsorbed it.) By Jacob's dictates, the Monster couldn't leave until him and his candidates were gone, regardless of the island's actual destruction at the end of season 5.

In this theory, I guessed that the island would end up destroyed and the survivors' consciousnesses would merge with the sideways survivors'. Ultimately, the Monster would succeed in his escape from the island, but then the sideways survivors, who now have the memories of the original set, would confront the Monster and utterly defeat it by the entire group becoming the new plural Jacob. Meaning, the Monster's power would be siphoned off into so many people at once that it would cease to exist. In addition, I presumed that the Monster would inhabit Christian's corpse during that scene. Hence the coffin would return to "sideways" Jack just in time for Desmond to gather the whole group around to take on the Monster as it sat up.

As season 6 wound on, it became increasingly clear that my "time was rewritten" theory didn't match up, and that was when I switched to the preceding theory with the alternate universe. I spent less time dreaming up theories than many others on the Web, but in any case my impression is that everybody was incorrect in one way or another. And how did dead Sayid turn into living "apparently I'm evil" Sayid, anyway?

Corner Gas

Thank you, writer's strike. The resulting dearth of original TV programs without suck has freed up some time for me. (I don't mean time during the actual broadcasts. Before and during the strike, my KnoppMyth installation, combined with the Schedules Direct service I've already complimented, has been recording on my behalf.)

I've spent part of that liberated time...watching TV, naturally. The "Superstation" WGN channel has been airing episodes of Corner Gas cable-style: filling up schedule gaps with whatever is available, no matter how old it is. Unlike much of the filler, Corner Gas is actually new to me, and it's well worth catching each (self-contained) episode.

Corner Gas is a Canadian show through and through, set in Saskatchewan. The references to Canadian culture, as well as the (unexaggerated, no "eh") accent, aren't serious obstacles. Its tone and characters are well-described by a one-liner seen around on the Web: "Seinfeld rocketed back 40 years and put in Mayberry". Mayberry is the fictional small town in The Andy Griffith Show.

• Seinfeld's plot lines centering around the minutiae of everyday life earned it the description of "a show about nothing" (a description also applied to the show by itself, through the self-reference of the sitcom "Jerry") . Nevertheless, Seinfeld's setting was New York and it included a wide range of notable guest characters to produce drama and conflict. Corner Gas' setting is a tiny rural town, primarily a gas station and a diner, and the guest characters in any given episode (like, say, the real Prime Minister) are for gags, not advancing the plot. If Seinfeld is a show about nothing, then Corner Gas is a show about less than nothing. Then again, like any sitcoms, the situations mined for comedy can be outlandish, i.e., not really "nothing".
• Corner Gas' humor is similar to Seinfeld's, too. In some ways, it's more "Seinfeldian" than Seinfeld was! Seinfeld used slapstick, outrageousness, and crudeness fairly often. Corner Gas doesn't. Seinfeld had sarcastic dialog about any insubstantial topic. So does Corner Gas. The jokes come at the characters' expense. A lot of the time, the maligned character is completely unaware of the joke.
  
• Seinfeld and The Andy Griffith Show were alike in not being easily categorized as "home" or "workplace" comedies: only some of the exceedingly quirky characters were family or coworkers. Corner Gas is the same way. Its offbeat characters also are the primary basis of its humor, although in my opinion these characters typically are relatively more plausible than either the neurotic/despicable examples on Seinfeld or the stupid/naive examples on The Andy Griffith Show. Of course, sitcoms are under comparison here, so in these shows realism is one of the first qualities sacrificed for the sake of funny.
• One technique which makes Corner Gas more distinctive is its quick and abrupt cuts between reality and, well, unreality. The unreal scenes might be a vivid character daydream, a past event just referenced in dialog, or a bizarre gag otherwise cued by dialog. The one that comes to mind is when a character mumbles that a clown who caused pain would be "Painy the Clown", and then the show immediately switches to showing a scene, no more than four lines long, of "Painy" scolded by a customer then responding by attacking the customer. This approach has led to comparisons between Corner Gas and Scrubs or Family Guy. However, Corner Gas relies on it far less.

If it isn't obvious, I'm deeply enjoying Corner Gas! The show may not be flashy or exciting enough for some viewers, but compared to others in its class it's above-average at all times and periodically it's creatively magnificent without being overbearing. It's written intelligently, yet it isn't pretentious. Given that TV Guide once named Seinfeld the greatest TV show, and Corner Gas has been called the Canadian Seinfeld, it has a good chance of finding new fans for a very long time.

remembering Beast Wars

By "Beast Wars" I mean the 1996-1999 CGI Transformers series, in which sentient robots transformed into animal forms (as the series continued, it incorporated various vehicle-inspired forms too). I know Beast Wars much better than the original cartoon series, which the summer Transformers movie was based on. After seeing that movie, I was compelled to peruse my Beast Wars DVDs and view some selected episodes. Here's why Beast Wars is still so good:

• Memorable characters. I'm inclined to think this is common to all Transformers series. Admittedly, those looking for subtlety and balanced characterization should perhaps keep looking. Those who want to be entertained by a rich variety of strongly-defined personalities (so strongly-defined that it borders on overexaggeration) should be satisfied. Of course, defining characters, especially the minor ones, in broad, easily-grasped strokes is the norm for TV shows. Beast Wars had some great ones, and it seems unfair to only list seven: Optimus Primal the just leader, Megatron (different robot, same name) the megalomaniacal manipulator, Tarantalus the insane genius, Black Arachnia the slippery schemer, Rattrap the wisecracking infiltrator, Waspinator the bullied underling, Dinobot the conscientious warrior. The cast of the show changed incredibly often, yet each addition and subtraction made an impact, particularly in the second season.
• Malevolent aliens. This element of the show is not as corny as it sounds; it acts more as a bubbling undercurrent of anxiety or a convenient plot driver/game-changer than a central focus. An advanced race of alien beings has an intense preexisting interest in the planet of the series' setting, and to them the crash-landed embattled transformers are an intolerable disruption. Yet the sophisticated alien race always acts indirectly through the use of proxy devices of incredible power (only at the very end do they send a single representative). The episodes that actually do revolve around the aliens' actions all have two-word titles starting with the letters "O" and "V". These episodes make up no more than a handful, but include the two episodes which make up the exhilarating cliffhanger finale of the first season.
• Advanced but limited robots. Some fictional stories strive to be plausible by trying to match, or at least not massacre, the unwritten rules of reality: excessive coincidences can't happen, people can't act without motivation, human heroes and villains can't be entirely good or entirely bad. Other fictional stories are set in a fictional reality with a fictional set of rules, but the story must still be "plausible" to those rules. The Beast Wars "reality" has its own set. Although a transformer can be endlessly repaired from devastating injuries, its true mystical core, known as a spark, must not be lost, else it ceases to be the same animate object. Too much exposure to too much "energon" in its surroundings will cause it to overload and malfunction, but transforming to a beast form nullifies the effect. A transformer in suspended animation as a "protoform" is vulnerable to reprogramming even to the extent of changing allegiances. Transwarp technology operates through space and time. However, the attention to internal consistency is tempered by...
• A sense of fun. Beast Wars was filled with humor. Robots that can take a beating are ideal for slapstick gags (arguably, the show takes this freedom too far on a few occasions). A few of the characters have bizarre and unique eccentricities, such as speech patterns or personality quirks, which are mined for amusement. For instance, one transformer has been damaged into confusing his consciousness with his ant form, so one of his titles for Megatron is "queen". The transformers' dialog is peppered with high- and lowbrow jokes, mostly at each others' expense. Between Rattrap, Dinobot, Megatron, and Black Arachnia, sarcasm isn't in short supply. When one transformer claims time spent in a secretive relationship with an enemy to be "scout patrol", Rattrap comments, "Find any new positions?"
  
• Battles galore. As befits a show whose title contains "wars", almost every episode contains one or more conflicts. The most common type is shootouts, naturally, but the wily transformers on either side employ diverse strategies and tactics to try to gain a decisive advantage: hand-to-hand combat, communication jamming, viruses/"venom", ambushes, stalking, feints, double-crosses, gadgets made by Tarantalus, etc. Surprisingly, Megatron stages a fake "defeat" of his forces in one episode (so a spaceworthy craft will be forged by combining everyone's equipment), and calls a truce that lasts for a few episodes (so he can refocus his attention to the imminent threat from the aliens). It's probably unnecessary to note that these battles are bloodless, even in the minority of battles that happen while in beast form, however beheading and dismembering (and denting) are common results of warfare. In fact, if Waspinator wasn't so often assigned to collect up the pieces for later repair, he would have very few functioning comrades.
• Connections to the original series. Foremost, that the transformers of this series are descendants of the original transformers, whose battles in the original series are collectively called the Great War. Autobots preceded the basically-decent maximals. Decepticons preceded the basically-aggressive predacons. Intriguingly, during the Beast Wars the maximals and predacons are officially at peace, although the maximals apparently exert greater control than the predacons. Megatron is a rogue who was openly pursuing resources for war, before the maximal research vessel was diverted from its mission to chase Megatron to the planet, ultimately causing each spacecraft to crash. To state more of the connections between Beast Wars and the original series would spoil too much, because over time the writers increasingly intertwined the two series.
  
• Vintage CGI. You may think that a CGI TV series that started in 1996 wouldn't be as visually impressive now. You're right. Fortunately, the people who worked on the show were all-too-familiar with the limitations, which means they generally did what they could do well. They avoided (or perhaps cut in editing?) what they couldn't. Apart from a few often-used locations, the "sets" are minimal. The planet has life-forms that aren't usually seen, sometimes giving the impression that the transformers are the only objects in the world that move around. On the other hand, the "shots" are creative and effective in composition, angle, zoom, etc., conveying mood and expressing information such that viewers are neither confused nor bored. The transformers, thanks partly to astute body movements and voice acting, are more emotive than one might guess (really, their faces shouldn't be able to move as much as they do--this is an easy little detail to forget about). Each season's CGI noticeably improved on the previous'. Just as Toy Story (1995) benefited by rendering toys instead of people, Beast Wars rendered robots. Nevertheless, the unconvincing fur and hair textures on the beast forms are best ignored.
  
• Not Beast Machines. This is an excellent reason to cover after CGI quality. Beast Machines was the series that followed Beast Wars. It was pretty, angst-y, stark, and altogether dazzling in design. It had a built-in audience of Beast Wars fans...who stopped watching. Beast Machines was just a drag. The comparison to Beast Wars was night and day, even in the literal sense of being much blacker. Beast Machines had the unintentional side effect of illustrating how special Beast Wars was.
  

disjointed thoughts about the Lost season 3 finale

My overall experience with the Lost season 3 finale was strangely metamorphic. While I was watching, I was entranced. Saying or thinking "wha?!" got so repetitive that by the end I was numb to it. "Ben knows they're going to the tower!...oh, he's only taking Alex along with him." "Charlie's been captured!...oh, Desmond came in to save him." "Sayid's dead!...oh, it was faked." "Sawyer and Juliet are going to ambush the Others without weapons!...oh, Hurley just drove a VW van in." "Whoa, according to the flashback Jack and Kate met before the plan crash!...this flashback takes place in the future when they're off the island!!!" Okay, that last one doesn't fit the pattern.

Oddly enough, maybe the biggest surprise for me was that Naomi was not sent by Penelope Widmore. From the previous episode, Desmond's premonition of Claire getting into a helicopter had already tipped me to the "one or more of them will be rescued" reveal. Ditto for Charlie's bucket-kick, of course. And regardless of what else would happen, I think pretty much everybody had assumed Locke would survive (but recovering so much in so short a timespan was literally incredible). The "who does Naomi work for?" question is the next Big Question for me. That, and "when will another woman show up with an English accent?" because it excites me to an unwholesome degree.

Then again, Lost needs more mysteries like web browsers and email clients need more security holes. The next time Walt appears out of nowhere, someone needs to put a leash on him or hang a bell around his neck, before demanding some answers. Remember back to first season, when Locke said "Walt, do you want to know a secret?" (immediately prior to the shot cutting away) and when Locke appeared to take a special interest in spending time with Walt, teaching him certain skills like throwing knives into trees? Did you notice Ben saying the word "temple" in this episode? Have you noticed Richard closely interacting with Ben, both in Ben's flashback story and in the present? A fixed timeline for the remaining episodes is a good thing, because the important Secrets can be systematically exposed rather than kept hidden to protect the show's lifeblood.

People may complain, or even stop watching, because the events on screen aren't perfectly clear. Those people shouldn't be watching Lost because they don't appreciate it for what it is. You know how life is often mysterious, its answers are often ambiguous, and each step forward leads to new challenges? Lost is sorta like that, if you hadn't noticed. Patience and contentment with not having absolute knowledge are two essential skills. As I keep repeating, fictional shows can be escapist in some ways but in other ways all too relevant to be comfortable.

Enough of that thinking stuff. How about those beat-downs? Jack letting loose on Ben (I couldn't help comparing it to when Jack was advocating restraint in interrogating "Henry Gale" in season two), exploding tents, someone getting hit with a van, etc. The action quota almost shamed 24. Two people deserve to be singled out. As Sayid was sitting down, arms bound, he destroyed someone using his legs. Close to Bauer-worthy, if not there - I can't recall if Bauer has performed that move or something similar.

Then there's Mikhail, who has been remarkably visible in the later part of the season. The guy's so nuts, even Ben couldn't help muttering "don't shoot us" as he approached Mikhail's place. The eyepatch seemed to be a bit much at first, but I think he since proved that he's the eyepatch type. Convincing him to shoot his comrades is a pretty easy task, isn't it? I wouldn't want to share bunks with him. One would think the wound he sustained in this episode would stop him, but there he was at the end, using a grenade to flood the underwater station. If Ben is Lost's king of creepy, Mikhail was Lost's king of berserk. It's unfortunate he killed Greta, played by Lana Parrilla, who I wanted to see much more of. Lana was in season four of 24, by the way, as a CTU desk person who didn't last the entire time.

I'm aware not all episodes can be season finales and openers. But nevertheless, here's hoping the story arcs of season four progress with more rapidity and steadiness than those of season three. Also, here's hoping Jack won't have to act through a beard again for a long time.

A jumble of final Justice League comments

I finished off the last DVD of Justice League (Unlimited) recently, so I thought it'd be fitting to publish my final round of comments in one broad sweep. As usual, I can't accurately entitle a potpourri of miscellaneous observations a "review", but it's as close as I'll get to one. The 'Net isn't exactly suffering from a scarcity of media reviews. (I try to aim for unique, original content whenever possible - otherwise, it just feels pointless to me to add more noise to signal.) Also, I freely admit to not being well-acquainted with comic books whatsoever.

• I almost can't express in mere words the amusement I've been getting from having Powers Booth both on Justice League as the voice of the impressive Gorilla Grodd and on 24 as an aggressive VP/acting-president. When I shut my eyes while watching 24, it's like Gorilla Grodd is threatening to bomb countries in retaliation for terrorism or snapping at subordinates. Come to think of it, Grodd acts more like a visionary leader than the 24 VP all around (except for a plot to turn all humans into huge, hyper-intelligent apes like him, *groan*).
• Am I the only one who sometimes sees the fights on Justice League and wonders why a superhero doesn't just use power _____ to get something done, or how the holy hand grenade a villain was able to defeat a superhero so easily? And am I the only one who has noticed that "Martian Manhunter" should pretty much be able to throweth the smackdown on anyone? Aside from being a remarkably gifted telepath, he has superhuman strength and durability, flexible shapeshifting, the capability to shift the solidity of his form, flight. In fact, he has a wealth of options available to him in any situation. I'm a little annoyed that such a character, the very definition of powerhouse, seemed to fill a supporting role so often.
• OK, I suppose it's silly to continue to harp on the unbelievability of a superhero cartoon, even one that's so careful to keep itself somewhat grounded, but I just need to say it. The ultimate superpower is incredible luck. This is more important for the heroes without superhuman powers. No matter what trap a hero is in, some avenue of escape happens to be there, or some convenient environmental feature can be turned against the antagonist. Not to mention a hero is always prepared - not for situations that didn't transpire, but for the situations that did. Batman is always right. "Wait a moment while I grab the antidote for this exact poison out of one of my belt compartments..."
  
• Was AMAZO in the final episode? That would have come in handy, wouldn't it?
• Lex Luthor, no more than a human, rose to the top as the prime villain as Justice League continued. I like that. There's something poetic about an arch-nemesis having essential flaws. I once wrote a story whose main villain is a peasant sorcerer - someone for whom magic was a means to class warfare. Voldemort has a non-wizard parent. Of course, the problem is that having Lex lord it over a room-full of superpowered goons, no matter how omniscient he is, stretches my suspension of disbelief to a degree Elongated Man can't hope to match. (Work, imagination, work!)
  
• One quality of Justice League that bears repeating is its humor. The show kept itself from slipping into camp, which is an everpresent danger when mixing dashes of humor into incredible premises, but nevertheless allowed its characters to be themselves, which includes expressing their senses of humor, dry or flashy. Listening to someone quietly sing a pop song to himself while throwing a hefty object through a glass door is one of those little comedy bits whose effect is simultaneously brilliant and hard to explain.
  
• Episodes about reincarnated lovers, specifically lovers in Egypt, don't work for me after sitting through a viewing of Mummy 2.
• To display my personal bias again, I found it irritating how Vigilante and Shining Knight steadily became more prominent. Their voices are great (Nathan Fillion's delivery is so much fun), but to me they're stupidly unoriginal concepts for heroes.
• The theme for Unlimited makes me cringe. I like some uses of electric guitar, more or less depending on my mood, but my common practice was to mute the player when it was on the DVD menus. The title sequence and end credits I either muted or skipped.
• Partly because I watched the series on DVD, I didn't mind continuing storylines at all; I like a show with stories too large to fit into one or two episodes. Characters and their relationships should change over time. I have more respect for heroes and villains that undergo serious damage, physically and emotionally, and then cope. Something minor like Hawkgirl not wearing her alien garb anymore has deeper meaning.
• My overall opinion is quite positive. Like Batman: The Animated Series, not every episode is great, but the ones that are stick with you and demand repeated viewings. If only to justify the cost of purchase...
  

timelessness of humor in "Great Pumpkin"

I was flipping through the channels, saw "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown", and to my surprise, watched almost the entire thing. Apparently, the annual showing of this special is not a fluke. It's good.

You may be thinking, "No, ArtVandalay, you're just easily amused by animation". And, well...I guess my three volumes of Looney Tunes Golden Collection DVDs would agree. Still, I don't watch cheap, crappy animation, unless it has excellent writing. C'mon, you can't sit there and say that having a cartoon character remark "Pronoun trouble" and having it make sense is only intended for kids.

Back to my main point. The only way a special that originally aired in 1966 could keep my attention would be if the humor is timeless. I'll expound on this if I can just switch into Hyper-Analytic mode...(grinding gears) (clunk). There. Here is how the humor is timeless, aside from the mere fact that it's Peanuts:

• Humor of repetition. One of the rules of comedy is that if you can find something that makes people laugh, you may as well try repeating it. Don't repeat jokes that primarily rely on surprise; it won't work, and you'll appear to be trying too hard. Most people have a finite tolerance for nonlinear humor. For instance, Aqua Teen Hunger Force cartoons start to annoy me after a couple of minutes. Charlie Brown getting a rock at each house, on the other hand, works so well that the four words "I got a rock" are now funny even out of context. Breaking up the repetitions with other kids exclaiming what they got (not rocks) effectively makes Charlie Brown's repetition stand out more.
• Visual humor. It pretty much goes without saying that references to current events can be mined for funny lines or even skits. Just as obviously, such references aren't funny out of context. Jokes about current events become jokes about historical events in an alarmingly short time. Actually, any jokes that rely on a shared cultural context don't even make sense in other cultures in the same time period. However, humor based on what the audience is seeing seems to be more universal. Dancing Snoopy, other children using Charlie Brown's head as a pumpkin model, or Charlie Brown having trouble with the scissors doesn't require anything from the audience except the capability to react to sounds and sights. This also means that visual humor can amuse people of any intelligence level.
• Tragic humor. Anyone with a shred of empathy probably feels some guilt about enjoying someone else's misfortune. If you want a fun word for this, you can refer to it as "schadenfreude", although "ferklempt" remains my personal favorite word borrowing from another language. The pettiness inside every person snickers whenever someone else endures tragedy. I think there's also some of this humor in "I got a rock". Charlie Brown is overjoyed after receiving a party invitation. Lucy explains that his name must have been on the wrong list. Linus persists in his rather self-destructive belief in the Great Pumpkin, so everyone else can make jokes at his expense. On a lighter note, Charlie Brown's recurring attempt to kick the football always seems to result in him falling on his back. Seeing people punished for false hope somehow just never gets old--ha ha, what a fool! Peanuts has to be the most depressing comic strip to ever hit the big time. Those who say that real kids aren't that cruel haven't seen enough groups of kids.
• Humor about childhood. Kids don't think things through logically, and therefore stumble naturally into comical situations. Even better, they think they know more than they do. Having Linus say "I didn't know you were going to kill it!" when Lucy slices into their pumpkin is a childish thing to say (given how deeply Linus thinks on other occasions, I think there's some inconsistency here). Not necessarily because the pumpkin wasn't a living thing (it was), but because once the pumpkin is out of the patch, it's already dead, and in any case it doesn't experience pain. Jumping into a pile of leaves while eating sticky candy falls in the same category. Lucy's overreaction to accidentally kissing Snoopy also is a case of unwarranted childhood zeal. Snoopy's vivid journey into his own imagination is another childhood trait. This humor doesn't appeal to me as much as it might to others, seeing as how I didn't relate to kids even when I technically was one, but it's certainly timeless, at least in parts of the world where a peaceful childhood is still possible and until the damn dirty apes take over.
  
• Reapplying old sayings. This kind of humor seems to be one of the identifying characteristics of Peanuts. For me at least, an overused saying is an overused saying, and none of the instances of this humor provoke more than a momentary smirk from me. It's even somewhat eerie to hear a kid say statements similar to "clearly, we are separated by denominational differences" or "the fury of a woman scorned is nothing compared to the fury of a woman has been cheated out of tricks-or-treats". Hearing kids complain about Christmas being too commercial, in another famous holiday special, also smacks of turning little kids into mouthpieces for adults. Creeeepy.

Maybe it's the nostalgia talking, but I have deep respect for any humor that manages to be timeless, in any medium. We can do far worse than introducing such works to future generations. Should probably wait until they reach a certain age before showing them Some Like It Hot, though.

impressions of the Lost episode Further Instructions

First of all: whiskey-tango-foxtrot. Double whiskey-tango-foxtrot.

Locke is back. To be specific, the taking-out-local-wildlife, take-charge, island-mystic Locke, as opposed to the button-pressing, film-watching, hatch-dwelling Locke of last season. It seemed like the "faith" torch had passed from Locke to Eko (note that both of these guys have stared into the hyperactive chimney smoke). Er...not quite. At this point, I'm not seeing how the writers are going to explain, in plain natural terms, how Locke et al keep receiving visions that tell them what to do. As I mentioned in a previous Lost-related post, there must be some mind control mechanism at work on this island. Don't forget, Charlie had vivid hallucinations in "Fire and Water" ordering him around, Eko got some guidance from his brother from beyond the grave, Hurley had a convincing series of interactions with someone who never existed, and a previous vision caused Locke to find the airplane that killed Boone. If you want to trace this pattern back even further, recall that Jack's dead father led him to the caves in an early episode in season one.

On a smaller level, I eagerly await an explanation of how people inside an imploding hatch end up outdoors. Why is only Desmond nekkid? Why is he naked at all? Why is Locke mute? Keep asking those questions for us, Hurley and Charlie.

You know, I'm not sure the show needs more characters. Prove me wrong. I wonder how Rose has been lately?

My prediction was that the next time Locke appeared, he would have lost control of his legs because of the hatch implosion. And the corresponding backstory would have shown how he lost control of his legs in the first place. I'm not a writer, but I thought it would have worked fine that way. This show is so kooky. People who get frustrated with the lack of conclusive answers are missing the point. The fascination is in watching the show toss in dumbfounding mysteries all the time, and wondering when the entire tangle will either be straightened out or finally snap into a ruined heap of dangling threads. First season, Locke pounded on the unopened hatch until a bright beam shone out to answer him; second season, we eventually discovered that someone living in the hatch had heard him and merely switched on a light. Here's hoping that the underlying Answers all make as much sense.

patrick warburton in twilight zone episode

Through the magic of syndication I saw a Twilight Zone (the new series, not the B/W classic) episode not too long ago that starred Patrick Warburton as fantasy comic book hero Azoth the Avenger. An ordinary boy reads some nonsense words out loud and suddenly the real Azoth appears in his room. I was really hoping the episode would play the idea for laughs, but unfortunately that was not the case. Azoth helps him out against some bullies, teaches him to show courage, and does some other dull things. Funny how a man who dresses like a barbarian would turn out to have such good manners.

Warburton sure doesn't have any trouble finding roles. I don't mind because I'm all for skewering the American caricature of masculinity, that is, a big guy who's either dense or square. If you don't mind me blatantly showing my nerd bias, I think that putting a higher value on qualities like intelligence, creativity, or compassion would go a long way toward making my culture more broadminded and effective. Plus, Warburton's funny, ever since I saw him as Puddy on Seinfeld, and he has a great voice talent. Spoon!

In other non-news, Kung Fu Hustle is the most fun movie I've seen in a while. After seeing that, Dead Men's Chest attempts at slapstick comedy look halfhearted. And how telling is it that some of the epic martial arts duels in Hustle are just as awe-inspiring as, if not more than, the climatic fight scene between Neo and Smith at the end of Matrix Revolutions? Kung Fu Hustle is a peculiar kind of genius, but I like it.

Spider Riders? Seriously?

Maybe what I'm about to point out isn't news to people who keep track of such things, but I have just concluded that most anime kids shows consist of the same set of endlessly rehashed story elements.

Let's make one, right now. It can be like mad libs.

1. Alternate reality - a universe inside a refrigerator.
2. Main character(s) - one spiky-haired heroic kid and one nerdy kid with big glasses.
3. Proxy entities that do battle - pickles.
4. A long line of cannon fodder enemies - those damn dirty spuds.
5. Enemy kingpin with super ultimate great power - lasagna.
6. Title - Gherkin Warriors.

Feel free to steal this idea. Hmm, it's even better if the proxy entities are deceptively small and cute. "I choose you, baby dill!" "I invoke the power of the hamburger slice!" Perhaps there could be some elaboration on how the pickles view the pickling process. Would it be like birth? Maybe it is a great honor to be pickled into a warrior. I could go on and on.