• Doom Patrol (2019) s04e02 – Butt Patrol

    I’m hesitant to call anything “Doom Patrolling,” a la “Westworlding,” but this episode comes close. The team is recovering from their trip to the future and discovering they bring about the “Butt-pocalypse;” one of the zombie butts from last season has survived to destroy the world. April Bowlby’s all set to lead the team to track down Jon Briddell, the bad guy everyone assumes is involved, but the rest of the team gives her a vote of no confidence.

    So it seems like we’re going to have an introspective mansion episode—and we do for a couple characters—setting up a bigger mission they’d be doing if they were regular superheroes. It’s mostly a first-season device, but they’ve fallen back on it a few times over the seasons. It’s a fine device, and there have been great episodes with it, but it’s the second episode of the new season… little soon.

    Luckily, it’s not that episode at all. Bowlby and Matt Bomer (and Matthew Zuk) have a mansion episode, with Bomer trying to reconnect with his energy parasite—it’s scared of the zombie butt future—and Bowlby is mad Bomer’s not more supportive of her team-leading abilities. Their arc ends up being the least impressive. The show’s not ready to reveal the future energy parasite information, so it’s more about clearing the air; while Bowlby’s mad at Bomer for not being in her corner, he’s angry she came back from the past last season a different person. Albeit, she came back to the future the long way, living ninety years or whatever.

    It’d be excellent acting fodder for Bowlby in particular if it were better. Instead, it’s filler until the rest of the team gets back home. Joivan Wade’s upset no one wants him as team leader, so he’s going to go on his own mission, having tracked down a frozen zombie butt. Diane Guerrero tags along, and they have a decent little subplot. They also get to hash out some of their character drama, setting up nice scenes for the closing montage. Guerrero is doing her best work on the show this season, even back to playing her regular persona.

    Meanwhile, Michelle Gomez realizes they just need to snuff out the problem, so she enlists Brendan Fraser (more Riley Shanahan for the body work) to help her. It becomes this exceptionally depressing arc about Fraser’s newfound ability to feel (just in one finger, but still) and Gomez’s muted self-loathing as she finds herself again manipulating meta-humans.

    Framing the entire episode are the adventures of Keiko Agena’s linguist; starting in flashback, we see how she went to the Ant Farm to work with the butts before the show started. Agena’s real good.

    Outside Bomer and Bowlby’s filler arc, it’s a strong episode; script credit to Eric Dietel.

    Plus, singing, man-eating butts. What else do you want?


  • Doom Patrol (2019) s04e01 – Doom Patrol

    Last season, “Doom Patrol” had to recover from a Covid-19-induced shortened second season, then get the show into a decent spot for HBO Max to cancel them. Thankfully, HBO Max did not cancel them, and now the show gets to do, presumably, at least this fourth season.

    You never know with HBO Max, however.

    Anyway.

    This season premiere picks up about six months after the finale, which saw the Doom Patrol becoming superheroes under April Bowlby’s enthusiastic, if questionable, leadership. Bowlby’s still team leader, Robotman (Riley Shanahan walking, Brendan Frasier talking), is almost rebuilt, no longer Cyborg Jovian Wade and dad Phil Morris are doing that rebuilding as they try to bond, Diane Guerrero’s having a multiple personality crisis, Matt Bomer and Matthew Zuk (Bomer talking, Zuk wearing the hot costume) are bonding with their new electrical alien parasite, and Michelle Gomez is still trying to atone for her many sins as the latest team member.

    Now, Gomez is in the opening credits as “special appearance by,” which isn’t a great sign for her longevity. I kept waiting for her to do a runner this episode, but the show seems sure she’ll be around for a while. Hope so; she and Bowlby are even more fun together hating each other. Or, Bowlby hates Gomez, while Gomez is trying to play nice but noticing the team leadership problems.

    It’s a fine place to start the season, with Guerrero narrating. Her primary persona now is the psychiatrist, played in the Underground (where Guerrero interacts with the personalities) by Catherine Carlen. The narration is Guerrero’s psychological observations about the team, which is an excellent device.

    However, things go wrong once they go on mission, finding themselves thrown into the future—which the audience has already seen in the episode prologue—and discovering most of their future selves dead, all because of some imminent mistake they’ll be making in the past. There’s a nice mix of action, deception, and character drama, with loads of good acting from the cast. The episode even gets in a great music montage (Clint Mansell and Kevin Kiner) where everyone’s moping around the mansion, realizing the new season’s started and shit’s getting real again.

    There are a couple significant reveals in the third act, along with a cameo in an epilogue, lots of future angst, and contemporary drama—the season hook is solid. The episode might feature Guerrero’s best acting on the show, albeit doing a Carlen impression.

    So glad “Doom Patrol”’s back. So glad.


  • Frasier (1993) s07e16 – Something About Dr. Mary

    I’m not sure where to start with this episode. Jay Kogen’s got the writing credit, and he’s had his name on some good episodes in the past. But why they ever thought they ought to do an episode like Dr. Mary. Dr. Mary is played by Kim Coles, a Black woman (and possibly the first significant Black guest star since the first season), who is filling in for show producer Peri Gilpin while Gilpin has her apartment painted. Guilty white liberal Frasier (played by anti-liberal Kelsey Grammer) met Coles while doing an outreach program for job training.

    After initially being shy about getting on the air with Grammer, Coles quickly dominates the show but changing the format. Instead of stuffed shirt Grammer, it’s hip, sassy Black lady Coles—who adopts the “Doctor” moniker because it sounds good, which is one of Grammer’s last straws. Dad John Mahoney just thinks Grammer’s avoiding talking to her about her performance because she’s Black, while brother David Hyde Pierce points out he once had a Black friend. As though someone in the writer’s room decided the lily-white cringe wasn’t cringe enough… Grammer then points out rich Black people aren’t really Black people.

    The episode also includes an ableist subplot to distract from questioning whether Hyde Pierce, Mahoney, and Grammer are really the ones to be talking about race. Grammer and Gilpin making fun of a colleague with a speech impediment.

    The episode employs various devices to show how Coles’s becoming more popular—apparently, the radio station is taking out advertisements mid-broadcast—to the point, it threatens Gilpin’s return. Station manager Tom McGowan loves Coles because she makes the show more popular and, for a radio show, better. Grammer never considers the possibility radio professional McGowan might be correct. Gilpin’s the only one with a vested interest in staying, and she’s happy to move on if the money’s right.

    The episode’s subplot has Hyde Pierce taking up kickboxing, bumping into Jane Leeves, and then cooking for her and Mahoney because she’s milking the injury (at Mahoney’s insistence). It’s fine. At least Mahoney’s not saying “massa” during it (spoiler, he does in the other plot). And there’s some good physical comedy for Hyde Pierce.

    Grammer’s got a broken part, as does Coles, who will eventually have to forgive Grammer for being too scared to talk to her like a person because she’s Black (and a woman). But both of them have good moments.

    Something About Dr. Mary, besides the title, doesn’t so much not age well as reveal how white creatives had (read: have) such ingrained misogynoir, they can turn it into an entire sitcom episode but never acknowledge its existence.

    Oof.


  • Killer of Sheep (1978, Charles Burnett)

    Killer of Sheep is a series of vignettes, usually connected with a sequence at the slaughterhouse (though not always slaughter, but sometimes, so be ready), always connected with a piece of music. Sometimes the music recalls a previous scene or musical selection, creating a narrative echo between the sequences. And even though Sheep is incredibly lyrical in its structure, somewhere in the second half—as enough time has progressed—more traditional plot lines have formed.

    Mainly because lead Henry G. Sanders has started hanging out with Eugene Cherry and Cherry really wants to get a car running. Except Cherry’s terrible at bigger-picture car stuff. He can install an engine block but is hazy when it comes to gravity, leading to a couple harrowing sequences.

    And then Kaycee Moore has a definite subplot; she plays Sanders’s wife, who’s feeling his depressive episodes in all sorts of ways. Sheep is about being Black working class in the early seventies, with L.A. in some kind of a transition (the neighborhood kids play in unfinished buildings, constructions or destructions), and writer, director, editor, and cinematographer Burnett knows there’s a lot there for a Black woman. But Sheep doesn’t explore it, just how Moore (and the other Black women) experience being around the men.

    The setting and time period mean there’s no way Sanders can call what he’s experiencing depression, but he does know there’s nothing he can do about it. He and Moore have somewhat recently moved to the city with their two kids. Jack Drummond plays the tween son, Angela Burnett’s his little sister.

    At the open, it seems like Drummond will be the more significant kid. Burnett juxtaposes Sanders’s story with scenes of the neighborhood kids at play. Mostly the boys, though the girls get a memorable scene, so it seems natural Drummond’s going to be the more important. He’s ingesting a lot of toxic masculinity, both out playing and (passively) from dad Sanders, and he’s started bullying sister Burnett.

    But since he’s always out of the house and Burnett’s too young to go out on her own—we eventually see she does have friends, but they come over with their mothers—she’s much more present for Sanders and Moore’s unhappy moments together, but also their time apart. Moore and Burnett have a gentle mother-and-daughter arc; lots of lovely moments.

    While Moore and Cherry have plot lines and identifiable arcs, Sanders sort of doesn’t. Yes, he’s the main character, yes, it’s about his work contributing to his depression, but if Sanders’s character knows how to verbalize any of those feelings, he doesn’t on screen. And what we do see on screen suggests he doesn’t. Again, he’s trapped in a depression, knowing there’s no way out. Even when he gets exceptionally asterisked job offers—one’s to be a cabana boy for the liquor store lady, the other’s to be wheelman on a hit—we don’t get his reaction. The liquor store scene ends emphasizing the awkwardness and awfulness of the situation (the owner only cashes checks for the Black men she’s got the hots for, i.e., Sanders), and Moore’s the one who shuts down the wheelman conversation.

    With his male friends, Sanders can find a comfort he can’t with Moore, which even the kids recognize (though Drummond’s acting out from go). Moore’s trying everything she can with Sanders, but he just doesn’t talk to her. There are some devastating scenes for the two of them. While Sanders gives the film’s best performance, Moore gives the most essential. Sheep simply wouldn’t work without her anxious but muted energy. She’s primed in anticipation, but Sanders is utterly resigned. Burnett mixes the contrary tones beautifully.

    Burnett’s most impressive work on the film—well, technically, it’s producer because he made the film—but creatively, it’s his direction and editing. His photography’s excellent, and the writing’s strong, especially for a mostly amateur cast. But the direction is where he’s superlative, whether with the actors (again, the editing and writing working in unison) or with his composition; Sheep’s always phenomenal. The way Burnett bakes looming danger into a film without any violence (against people, anyway) is something else.

    And it relates back to the character relationships. There’s a lot of turmoil between Sanders and Drummond, Sanders and Moore, and Moore and Drummond. Their interactions are sometimes foreboding, especially given Drummond’s seeming lack of, well, sense. Things aren’t going right for the family in Sheep, but only Drummond is actively threatening to make them worse. It’s rending.

    Thanks to the montage device, Burnett’s able to end Sheep whenever and goes out not so much on a surprise, but still abruptly. The third act’s got a nebulous start time until the film’s end when events become a little clearer. It’s bleak but not fatalistic. There’s always a lot of hope, even as Sanders is drowning in hopelessness.

    Sheep’s an exceptional film.


  • Stage Struck (1958, Sidney Lumet)

    Conservatively, Stage Struck has six endings. They start about fifty-eight minutes into the film, which runs ninety-five minutes. Actually, wait, there are probably—conservatively—seven. I forgot how many there are mid-third act before the actual (ending-laden) finale.

    For a while, the false endings add to the film’s charm. Maybe if the third act hadn’t reduced lead Susan Strasberg to a glorified cameo… but by the end, Struck’s already had all its problems. It’s got a doozy—Strasberg’s in a love triangle with Broadway producer Henry Fonda and playwright Christopher Plummer. Strasberg was twenty at the time, Plummer twenty-nine, and Fonda was fifty-three. For context, Strasberg’s real-life dad was only three years older than Fonda. Strasberg’s character is eighteen-ish. They establish she left her hometown in Vermont, where she was in all her (now dead) uncle’s plays. Fonda presumably reminds her of her uncle (ick). She fawns over him, wanting him to Svengali her, and he can’t help but fall for her. It doesn’t hurt his regular girlfriend, younger but not “I’m only a few years shy of being old enough to be your grandpa” territory Joan Greenwood, likes to punish him for slights by withholding physical affections.

    So, yeah. For a while, it seems like Struck’s going to be all about Fonda and Strasberg getting together. It’s not, thank goodness, and any threats to revisit the topic end up just being threats, which also get contextualized for Fonda’s character–rich white guys never have to grow up and think about things if they stay rich and white enough—it doesn’t ever stop being creepy (especially since Strasberg looks like a kid kid), but… I don’t know; it makes “sense.” And Fonda’s really good at playing this old creeper who does try to act responsibly. Somewhat.

    Stage Struck is a remake of Morning Glory, which is based on an unproduced stage play. And Struck filmed entirely on location in New York City, as the opening title promises. Director Lumet and cinematographers Morris Hartzband and Franz Planer have some trouble with the location shooting, but Lumey’s instincts are all good, and when the shots look good, they look great. There’s an exterior location scene between Strasberg and Plummer—if it weren’t a late fifties studio remake of an early thirties studio picture—it’d be exceptional. Lumet and his photographers foreshadow seventies Hollywood New York movies by over a decade.

    And there are some exceptional moments in the film. It’s all about Strasberg wanting to make it on Broadway but not wanting to go the regular route. She was in a play club in her hometown; she knows all the Shakespeare by heart, why should she go to the Actor’s Studio (did they consider having her real dad—Actors Studio coach Lee Strasberg—cameo); she wants to be a star now. It doesn’t work out for her in act one, but when she’s back in act two, she has this line about having to prove herself. Strasberg’s got to prove to the Broadway people in the movie she can be a major stage actor, which means she’s also got to prove it to Struck’s audience.

    She does. It’s incredible. At first, it seems like Lumet doesn’t have the scene, then he does, while Strasberg keeps delivering great moment after the great moment, Lumet holding the shots. It echoes in the third act. It’s so good.

    Sadly, it’s also when Fonda sees something he likes.

    But it’s more Plummer’s movie than anyone else. He’s the new playwright who throws in with commercial success Fonda. The film starts with them going into production on one play and ends with their production on the next. Lumet and screenwriters Ruth and Augustus Gortz do a fine job opening the film up enough it never feels too stagy—Lumet loves the theater so much he bakes in acknowledging the stage—but none of these people exist outside their professions. Even when we see Fonda at home, it’s in the context of Broadway producer.

    Lots of great acting. Strasberg has an unsteady first act, a knockout second then is missing from most of the third. Intentionally, which is a bad choice. Plummer’s great, and Fonda’s outstanding. Herbert Marshall is an older actor who thinks Strasberg’s swell, but since he’s in his sixties, he doesn’t have to be a pervert about it. Greenwood’s good, even though she’s reduced to foil. Nice small work from Daniel Ocko and John Fiedler. Struck’s got a lot of fine performances; given the subject, it’s got to have them.

    The film’s a little too experimental for its own good (with the location shooting), and the third act’s a mess, but Stage Struck’s pretty darn good. A tad too pervy, even if muted, but it’s not a factually inaccurate representation of how Broadway producers behave… and the acting’s superb. Strasberg’s a marvel, and Plummer’s a great lead (in his first theatrical film).

    Oh, the Alex North music.

    It’s a tad much; chalk it in the experimental column, especially when it plays over the actors.