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Saturday, October 05, 2002 ( 10/05/2002 10:13:00 AM ) Bill S. DOWN THESE MEAN CORRIDORS – Ever since the dogs came into our house, my Saturday a.m. ‘toon watching has been pretty limited. But a recent email and blog posting alerted me to the presence of Disney’s Fillmore on ABC Kids. And on the basis of one viewing, it looks like I’ll be setting the timer for it. Titular hero Cornelius Fillmore is a thickly bespectacled black kid, a member of the Safety Police who (alongside partner Ingrid Third) solves school-related crimes at X Middle School. This week’s dastardly deed: the theft of the school’s living mascot, Lobstie. Structured like a Quinn Martin policier (each segment is an Act), complete with exciting chases through school corridors & a lobster-themed school fair, the show works as both a kid’s mystery and an adult parody of same. Each of the kid suspects is given suitably “adult” motives (the boy who has a rep as the school’s resident psychic to maintain, the other who is ambitiously eyeing editor position on the school paper), while our hero is no-nonsense and resourceful. Sort’ve like The Simpsons when Bart and Lisa do the Mystery Machine thing – only without so much satirically distancing irony. (Thanx to Jay Zilber for the heads up!) # | Friday, October 04, 2002 ( 10/04/2002 07:39:00 AM ) Bill S. DESCENDING INTO THE MAELSTROM – Okay, I’ve decided: the most thoughtful & articulate political blogger writing today is Neal Pollack – as exemplified by this typically measured rant. # | Thursday, October 03, 2002 ( 10/03/2002 01:57:00 PM ) Bill S. “YOU’VE GOT A POINT, OBLIO!” – This writer is a regular frequenter of the Gone & Forgotten site, which thoroughly examines some memorable comic book low-points. (Sort of a more sardonic companion to Scott Shaw!’s Oddball Comics column at CBR, only not as regularly updated.) Several months back, another GAF visitor threw out a question asking the title of the seventies era TV cartoon feature about a boy who lived in a land where everybody was required to have a point on his/her head. Of course, yours truly had to add to the discussion: because the cartoon in question, The Point, was the work of one of my longtime faves, the great singer/songwriter Harry Nilsson! The Point has been issued as both a VHS tape and a CD (not yet as DVD, unfortunately). As a record album, the work just contains an EP’s worth of tunes – with a narrative summary of the TV ‘toon padding things out – and though the CD contains some bonus material, the cumulated songwork still barely hits the length of a regular Nilsson album (which were notoriously short, anyway). Still, I’ve regularly played and replayed the disc. As one of the Point’s characters, the Rockman, would say, “You hear what you wanna hear.” NOTE: GAF’s newest feature is a review of a kids' record album: Christmas with the Super-Heroes. It includes audio files so you can experience some of the sonic splendor for yourself alongside the usual snarky story deconstruction. Recommended listening & reading. # | ( 10/03/2002 12:33:00 PM ) Bill S. SIGNS, SIGNS – Back from another two days on the Midwestern highway, and I’ve really started noticing this year’s campaign signs. In Illinois, the big race this year is for governor: Ryan vs. Blagojevich. In the signage race Dem B. has it over Rep R. – his name guarantees a larger sign. Don’t know for certain if I saw more Blagojevich boards on the road or not, but it sure seemed like I did. If memorable signs were the only measure of an election, then the Republican'd be drafting his concession speech today. You can take this sign thing too far, of course. Over in Quincy, Illinois, near Hannibal, MO., a woman named Laura! is running for something. Her campaign signs are designed like an impact frame from the old Batman teevee series: bright yellow background w./ the candidate’s first name surrounded by a jaggedy frame. Have no idea what office she’s running for or what party she represents – hopefully, the locals do – but all I could think about when I saw ‘em this week was Burgess Meredith’s Penguin running for major of Gotham City. # | ( 10/03/2002 06:54:00 AM ) Bill S. EVERYTHING IS LESS THAN PERFECT . . . – When I first heard the premise of ABC’s Less than Perfect, I started flashing on the buried Fox sitcom, Babes. That short-lived series revolved around a trio of fat sisters who shared an apartment in the big city. Appealingly cast (Wendy Jo Sperber, Susan Peretz and Ed’s Leslie Boone), the show was much ballyhooed in its day by members of the size acceptance community. Look, the line went, a series where plus-sized women are portrayed as vibrant interesting people – not just a buncha gluttonous shlubs! And it was coming out on then-hot upstart network Fox, too! Only one problem: the show sucked. Less than Perfect is the story of a Claudia Casey (Sarah Rue), a possibly plumpish office prole who one day is transferred from the fourth floor of her office building to the seemingly unattainable 22nd floor. “Claude’s” friends (you can tell she’s a regular person since her nickname’s masculinized) are earthy (Sheri Sheppard) or goofy (Andy Dick, doing his trademark clueless dork). Her new cow-workers (Note: this typo was not intentional – but I decided to leave it in!) are sleek and cutthroat, desperate for the attention of Eric Roberts' fatuously self-absorbed boss-man. As Claude herself notes, she can easily see she’s out of place on two-two because she has “slightly more than 3% body fat.” Yeah, that’s our Claudia – the kind of “fat girl” self-defensively equipped with a battery of put-downs that she pulls out to beat everyone else to the punch. A convenient comedic creation for writers: it gives ‘em leeway to indulge in the same ol’ fat jokes without being potentially judged offensive. “Hey, the character’s making the joke, not me!” Well, okay. But in that case, you’d better be giving your heroine some A-grade fat jokes, particularly if you’re trying to convince us this gracelessly dressed un-babe is the kind of sharp mind capable of composing a boss-worthy document first time at the keyboard. Series lead Rue is cute beneath her layered garments and has an neatly muttery way of delivering lines, but her best joke concerns the show’s obvious influence, Bridget Jones. (Commenting on actress Rene Zellwegger’s thirty pound gainage for the role of Bridget, Rue laments the fact that in Hollywood terms, her body has become “a stunt.”) When your funniest line is at the expense of comedies that preceded you, the possibility of sustaining a full season series is Less than Likely. # | Tuesday, October 01, 2002 ( 10/01/2002 04:32:00 AM ) Bill S. PU PU PLATTER – Though I pass on all other Cartoon Network Cartoon Cartoons spin-off comics, I’ve been buying DC’s sporadically published take on Space Ghost: Coast to Coast. More plot-driven, less goofily illogical than the cartoon series from whence it came – the book still has its moments. Can’t figure out who (besides me) its audience is, however: the book teeters between basic kid’s slapstick and borderline Beavis & Butthead innuendo. So who's the readership? Latch-key 4th-graders whose parents don’t care they’re staying up past midnight to watch “Adult Swim”? # | Monday, September 30, 2002 ( 9/30/2002 02:04:00 PM ) Bill S. ALL SINGIN’, ALL SLAYIN’ – The soundtrack to last year’s Buffy musical ep, “Once More, With Feeling,” has just been released on Rounder disc. And if Joss Whedon’s maiden songwriting effort (not counting a brief snippet of Giles song in an earlier dream story) won’t blow Sondheim out of the water, it’s still plenty enjoyable on its own modest terms: with witty character-driven lyrics and solid pop/show tunery. Bet Joss wished that his title lead could really sing, though, since she’s given the most complex, episode defining number (“Something to Sing About”). Would've saved 'em from a lotta Zappaesque tape-splicing. Of the cast, Anthony Head’s Giles and Amber Benson’s lamented Tara acquit themselves best: the latter’s “Under Your Spell” is clearly the “break-out number,” a melodic & sexy pop tune. Special Guest Villain Hinton Battle’s hi-de-ho-isms deliberately recall Calloway-by-way-of-Danny-Elfman (wanna bet Whedon has a videotape of Forbidden Zone somewhere in his collection?) Cooler than the Boogeyman in Nightmare Before Christmas, not as good as the actual Cab-man. I like that the soundtrack even includes the snippet songs – the guy who got the mustard stain cleaned from his suit, the woman trying to argue herself out of a parking ticket (if I remember right, that second li’l bit was originally buried behind expositional dialog) – and the extra “suites” (instrumental passages from two other eps, including deserved fan fave, “Hush”) are nice, too. A demo tape of composer Joss and wife Kai Cole assaying “Something” reveals that the song – with its sudden rhythmic shifts and counter-intuitive chorus – is probably unsingable by any but the most rigorously trained theatrical voice. Which perhaps makes Sarah M. Gellar’s attempt as brave an act as anything her heroine has done . . . So when do we get the belled-and-whistled DVD release? # | Sunday, September 29, 2002 ( 9/29/2002 03:01:00 PM ) Bill S. “MY FRIEND IS TRAPPED IN A SHAME SPIRAL” – Breathes there a fan of group-centered rock ‘n’ roll who hasn’t felt a shudder of apprehension upon reading the words “solo side project”? Ever since Paulie McCartney lied and told us life was just a bowl of cherries, solo elpees have been portents of doom for devotees of beloved rock groups. So it was that this fan found himself nervously approaching Rhett Miller’s new The Instigator (Elektra). As frontman for the Texas based Old 97’s, Miller was the melodically mournful bellow behind my favorite disc of 2001, Satellite Rides: a practically perfect collection of guitar-based country-tinged pop-rock packed w./ power and yearning. In the Pop World of my imagination, Rides’ songs of neo-bohos and their wasted relationships comprised my own personal Hit Parade. Not all 97’s fans share my love for this disc, of course. Starting as a firm alt-country group on that great dissipated indy label, Bloodshot, the band pursued a purer cow-punk sound. With their major label move, however, Miller and the boys began to incorporate more mainstream pop sounds – to the dismay of purists, even if songs like “Oppenheimer” or "Buick City Complex" were among the best the group had ever recorded. If nothing else, the band has refused to stand still. Which brings us to The Instigator: twelve good Miller songs done with our hero on acoustic and all-purpose pop maven Jon Brion (the man who gave Fiona Apple her deservedly big-selling album) filling in the gaps. Lots of strumming folk-rock sounds instead of the Old 97’s Texas thrash: not as overwhelming but still full of energy, even if the guitar fuzz is mixed down. At times I hear the rollick of Paul Westerberg; other moments, the ultra-ruminative Nick Lowe – though neither songwriter currently possesses Miller’s keen lyrical eyes. Much of Instigator’s songs revolve around ruined relationships (“This Is What I Do” neatly encapsulates a personal history of blown affairs w./ stick-legged girls), but midpoint through the disc Miller gives us more optimistic fare. “Four-Eyed Girl” finds the singer bragging about his girlfriend’s smarts (“I’m a rock ‘n’ roller/She’s a Science teacher”), while the pure pop “Hover” has him singing in amazement, “I can’t believe that you’re my lover.” In Miller’s world-inside-the-world, even a history of fractured one-on-ones is no reason to give up hope. Miller has stated in interviews that the songs on this disc were done solo because they didn’t seem like Old 97’s material to him. On some cuts (opener “Our Love” and the most openly country number, “The El,” in particular), I don’t know what he’s talking about, though others clearly take from sounds outside his group’s repertoire. “I Want to Live” has pre-punk-style guitar blasts, while “Terrible Vision” even includes a chick chorus doin’ background awwws. “Port Shirley” adds psychedelic eccentric Robyn Hitchcock on guitar and backing vocals, a musical move far from the earthier 97’s. So . . . should I be worrying? According to the fansites, the Old 97’s are still intact, but I’m still holding judgment for now. First single “Come Around” is getting pushed on VH-1, which has the potential of putting Rhett ahead of his cohorts if it does take off. And so we 97’s fans are placed in the uncomfortable position of wishing its frontman good fortune – but not too much good fortune . . . Ah, what the hell – buy the album, anyway. # | ( 9/29/2002 08:47:00 AM ) Bill S. YANCY DO – Okay, so comics scripter Mark Waid is supposed to be a trivia master (both Dave Hill and Mark Evanier have told me so) – and I know I’m not. But I’m not gonna swallow Waid‘s premise in Fantastic Four #61 that Ben Grimm’s perpetual tormenters, the Yancy Street Gang, have not been responsible for the regularly delivered rash of insulting packages & messages sent to the Thing. The gang are part of FF mythology (they were introduced way back in issue #7); we’ve seen parts of their bodies and read their spoken words. Recently, in a Thing solo story (FF, volume 3, #56), we even saw the current generation of Yancy Streeters’ arms. Now I’m supposed to believe that these half-seen figures aren’t responsible for years of teasing & tomato tossing? I’d accept it if the writer had indicated that Johnny Storm – who confesses to his sister that he’d been sending the packages himself all along – had just taken over the job after the Yancy Guys had grown out of sending ‘em. (Neatly ironic: the fact that members of a New York street gang could mature in ways our heroes haven’t.) But Waid’s work smacks of unwanted revisionism and an insult to spunky kid gangs everywhere. Somewhere in the comic book aether, members of the Newsboy Legion are shaking their heads in sorrow-filled disbelief. . . # | |
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