One of the horror genre's "most widely read critics" (Rue Morgue # 68), "an accomplished film journalist" (Comic Buyer's Guide #1535), and the award-winning author of Horror Films of the 1980s (2007), The Rock and Roll Film Encyclopedia (2007) and Horror Films of the 1970s (2002), John Kenneth Muir, presents his blog on film, television and nostalgia, named one of the Top 100 Film Studies Blog on the Net.
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
Star Trek 50th Anniversary Blogging: "The Tholian Web" (November 15, 1968)
Stardate 5793.2
In
response to the disappearance of the U.S.S. Defiant, the Enterprise moves into
a dangerous region of space to locate it.
There, in a period of “interphase,” two universes overlap. The Defiant is disappearing into that
mysterious universe, and Captain Kirk (William Shatner) -- who becomes trapped
on the ship -- is doing so as well.
The
area of interphase also causes madness and violence in humans aboard starships,
and it begins to have a dangerous influence on the Enterprise crew, as Mr.
Spock (Leonard Nimoy) takes command, and attempts to rescue the missing Kirk.
Making
matters worse, the territorial Tholians arrive, and claim this turbulent region
of space for the Tholian Assembly. Commander Loskene threatens the Enterprise,
but Spock knows the Enterprise cannot leave the area without risking the loss
of Captain Kirk.
In
response, the Tholians begin to create a space web to trap the Enterprise.
Spock
and Dr. McCoy (De Forest Kelley) bicker over the situation, until they watch
Captain Kirk’s last recorded orders, and begin working together -- and racing
against time -- to escape the Tholians, save the Enterprise, and rescue their
captain.
“The
Tholian Web” is, without a doubt, one of the best episodes of Star
Trek (1966-1969) from its third season.
The episode is worthwhile for a
number of reasons, but in the final analysis it is succeeds as a wonderful
exploration of the central “triumvirate” (Kirk-Spock-McCoy), and the events
that happen when one person is subtracted from that close-knit triangle.
Here,
McCoy and Spock bicker through their grief, since Kirk may be dead, and eye each
other suspiciously. It is clear that without Kirk's presence to temper their extreme
viewpoints, these two points on the triangle teeter on the edge of outright
warfare.
McCoy states that he would like to “remedy” the situation, removing
Spock from command, for example. The
interaction between these characters is not playful. It’s not gentle. It is not
tempered by feelings of affection.
Rather, McCoy and Spock are clearly at each
other’s throats throughout the action here.
The logical conclusion is that what binds them together is their
friendship and support for Captain Kirk, not necessarily their regard (or respect) for each
other.
Kirk’s
last orders (well-played by Shatner) get these two men, these two Starfleet
officers, back on track. Kirk’s tape refocuses Bones and Spock away from their
struggle, and back to the one thing that matters more than anything else to Kirk:
the safety of the Enterprise.
This
seems a crucial episode for the heroic triangle for a few reasons. It clearly represents an opportunity for growth, and one that the franchise seizes on.
At the
end of the episode, Spock and McCoy share a “lie” to their captain. He asks if
they watched his final orders. They lie, and say that there was not time to
view Kirk's video will during the crisis.
Think about what
that means for just a moment.
You don’t share a lie with someone you don’t
trust, or don’t like. That Spock and McCoy join together to spin this untruth
to their captain, friend, and superior officer suggests that they have attained a new plateau of trust or comfort with one another. Despite everything that Spock and McCoy went through,
they have found a way to work together, to co-exist, in “The Tholian Web,” without the
peace-maker presence of Kirk.
That’s a
big deal, and a big step for their friendship.
We have seen in previous
Spock/McCoy moments (in episodes such as “The Trouble with Tribbles,” “The
Immunity Syndrome” and “Bread of Circuses”) that when left alone together, away
from Jim's presence, these two officers battle.
They snipe.
They zing each other with harsh
witticisms.
Here, they get past that stage,
for the first time, and so one might make the argument that “The Tholian Web”
represents an important aspect of the Spock/McCoy friendship. Eventually, McCoy
will tell Spock that he “never ceases” to amaze him (Star Trek V: The final Frontier
[1989]) but that’s a sentiment that it is difficult to imagine Bones voicing in the
trenches of the first, second, or early third season of Star Trek.
One must wonder if losing Jim, and facing
this crisis together, forged a connection between the two men that built the
friendship we saw by the time of the motion pictures.
I will state this another way, one more in keeping with concepts of the episode. From a certain perspective, "The Tholian Web" is about putting aside the "ghost" of Captain Kirk.
Crew members keep seeing the missing captain and McCoy wonders if this is so because the officers have lost faith in Spock. But McCoy feels guilty about giving his loyalty to a new captain. and Spock feels guilty and responsible, as well, for what has occurred to Kirk.
Then, Spock and McCoy exercise that "ghost" -- that haunting spirit -- by conducting a funeral service of sorts; by watching his last will.
It's as if, in their minds, following this viewing, Kirk can finally rest. His last orders have been issued, and Spock and McCoy can move forward to the next step. That next step, in this case, actually involves his rescue. But they had to move past "the ghost" of Captain Kirk that was paralyzing them, that was locking them in their cycle of grief and anger.
The
question, of course, arises: why lie to Captain Kirk during the episode's final scene? His last orders proved
incredibly helpful to Spock and Bones. Why shouldn’t he know this?
Here again, Spock and McCoy have realized
they have something in common. They don’t
want to appear weak before their captain. They would rather lie -- putting aside
their differences in the process -- than acknowledge that they were lost without
him, and that his guidance was very much needed.
Beyond
this examination of the triumvirate, and particularly Spock and McCoy, “The
Tholian Web” is notable for adding a fascinating new, non-humanoid (non-mammalian…) alien
race to the catalog: the Tholians.
Tholians are (apparently) crystalline in nature, known to be punctual, and evidence a
technology far different from the other races we have met so far in the Alpha Quadrant (Romulan,
Klingon, Gorn).
They spin their “webs” around enemy starships, and their
(Emmy-Award nominated) space toils make for dynamic and unforgettable visuals.
In a very real sense,
Spock is “trapped” in a web in this episode. He must battle the crew, rescue the
captain, defeat the interphase insanity (as it applies to the Enterprise crew),
negotiate with an alien race, and keep his feelings of loss and grief in check. This is a
tangled web, indeed, and it’s rewarding how "The Tholian Web" also gives him a literal (energy)
web to navigate.
The
Tholians would return to Star Trek (at least in passing), in the second season
episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation (1987-1994): “The Icarus Factor.” And the U.S.S. Defiant, would also come back to
haunt canon, appearing in the two part Enterprise (2001-2005) episode “In a
Mirror, Darkly.”
“The
Tholian Web” is notable as well for granting audiences a first look at Starfleet space
suits, which are very distinctive (and form fitting...), as well as Uhura’s
quarters.
In fact, Nichelle Nichols’ Uhura has a good, supporting role in this
episode; one that showcases her humanity (and loyalty) well. Nyota’s colorful,
distinctive quarters go a long way towards the same goal, reminding us of the character's individuality. After the first season,
we rarely get to see Uhura during off-duty hours, so those moments here help
make the episode a special and memorable one.
In short, "The Tholian Web" features great character moments for Spock, McCoy, and Uhura, introduces memorable new aliens and equipment, and dramatizes an emotional story of Kirk's "ghost" wherein form reflects (emotional) content. It is an episode that hits on all thrusters, as Bones might say.
Next
week, however, things take a turn for the worse with “Plato’s Stepchildren.”
The Films of 2017: Alien: Covenant
[Many spoilers are
included in the following review. Please proceed accordingly.]
As
an early, consistent, and vocal supporter of Prometheus (2012), I can
only assess Ridley Scott’s follow-up, Alien: Covenant (2017) as an
intriguing but ultimately uninspiring affair.
The
sequel is intriguing primarily because Scott brings his trademark intellect to
the tale, giving audiences a new and worthwhile musing on the nature of God(s) and men,
or, rather, parents and children.
Yet
Alien:
Covenant is uninspiring too, because the quest for ultimate truth or
knowledge that was so important to Prometheus (2012) has been replaced
with a torrent of easy answers. The movie’s modus operandi is to fill in all
the “gaps” between Prometheus and Alien (1979), and, at least for this
reviewer, that’s a dispiriting and ultimately self-defeating approach for a franchise that prides itself on exploring the unknown.
The
easy answers presented by Alien: Covenant don’t really satisfy,
and in some way they actually foreclose on the sense of majesty and mystery that has characterized the Alien franchise for decades.
The
issue here is that it is inherently better to search, or to explore, than to
provide easy answers.
Prometheus
was all about raising questions.It raised interrogatives about the Engineers,
the xenomorphs, mankind’s beginnings, and even, finally mankind’s future. I am
well aware that many fans actively disliked the film, and yet Prometheus was a bold,
even drastic step in a new direction; one which opened up the possibilities of
the Alien
universe in magnificent, literary, and imaginative ways.
After
so many years of largely unsatisfactory re-hashes, it was a breath of fresh
air, and the re-assertion of the franchise’s possibilities and scope.
By
contrast, Covenant is a relatively routine Frankenstein story (a mode,
yes, which was certainly implied by the title, Prometheus). The sequel exists simply to tie everything
together into a neat bundle. The result
is a film that, I believe, fails to spark the imagination -- to inspire -- the
way that Prometheus so abundantly did.
I
do not write off Alien: Covenant as a total failure, however.
Scott
has crafted a film here of some remarkable depth, especially in its first half,
even while retreating to familiar franchise tropes in the last half. All the Alien
films must strike a unique note so as not to be seen as a rip-off of
previous entries, and in truth, Covenant possesses its own unique vibe,
which I’ll attempt to explore below.
I
describe this vibe as, well, sinister.
We
have seen evil before in the Alien universe, of course.
Sometimes
that evil has been brought forward by man (Burke in Aliens 1986]), sometimes
by machine (Ash in Alien [1979]) and sometimes by nature itself; the “hostile”
biological instincts of the titular xenomorphs.
But
there is no other film -- at least yet -- in the Alien saga that plunges so
overwhelmingly into the darkness, into sinister agendas and horrific, hellish sights.
Even Ripley’s death in Alien3 (1992), by
contrast, served a pro-social or humane purpose.
In
Alien:
Covenant, an overwhelming diabolism seems to permeat the picture, in
keeping with David’s Milton-ian line of dialogue that it is better to rule in
Hell than serve in Heaven.
This sinister
quality makes the film feel both oppressive and portentous - which is, admittedly, not a bad note for the
middle piece of a trilogy to strike -- but the grim atmosphere does not
make the film scary, or inspire speculation and interest.
In
addition to this caustic, ironic, diabolical tone, Alien: Covenant merits
consideration for David’s story arc, and the way David’s story of
parents/children continues some of the thematic groundwork laid down by Prometheus
five years ago
I
know that folks read movie reviews for a critic’s assessment, a binary yes/no,
thumbs-up/thumbs-down judgment. If you’re at this blog, reading this review, you
already know I rarely tread into that territory of absolutes. How you ultimately come to feel
about Alien: Covenant could rely on a lot of different things.
How
did you feel about Prometheus? What do you seek from an Alien film? And so on.
At
this juncture, I can judge the film well-made, well-performed, and disturbing
on a psychic and visceral level, even though there is no set-piece here that
compares favorably with Shaw’s on-the-spot surgery in Prometheus.
Also, I can detect
the “dark” intelligence lurking behind Alien: Covenant, but, I suppose, finally,
that I wish that intellect had been directed more fully towards a story that furthered
the mysteries of the Alien-verse rather than limiting
them.
“Serve
in Heaven, or reign in Hell?”
In
2104, the colony ship Covenant carries 2000 humans in hyper-sleep, and voyages
to distant Origae 6, which needs to be terra-formed to be fully livable.
A
random neutrino burst from a nearby star, however, damages the ship, and kills
the ship’s captain (James Franco) in cryo-sleep, leaving his wife, Daniels
(Katherine Waterstone) bereft and questioning life. While on a space-walk repairing the solar
sail apparatus, Covenant’s pilot and technician Tennessee (Danny McBride)
intercepts a signal in space which seems to originate from a human being.
The
Covenant’s new captain, a “man of faith” named Oram (Billy Crudup) orders a
change in course to the signal’s point of origin, a mysterious habitable planet
in its system’s Goldilocks Zone. In fact, Oram wants to scrap all the carefully
made plans for Origae 6 and settle on this newly discovered world instead.
Daniels feel it is too much a risk, but has no choice but to go alone.
The
Covenant sends a lander down to the planet, but almost immediately, the
excursion goes terribly wrong. Members of the reconnaissance team are infected
by strange black spores, and impregnated by parasite neo-morphs, which burst
from their bodies in horrific, bloody fashion.
The
survivors are rescued by a stranger, an android named David (Fassbender), who
seems an (almost) perfect match for Covenant’s synthetic man, Walter (Foster).
But
David hides a dark secret about the source of the message that brought the
Covenant to him, and the fate of Dr. Elizabeth Shaw (Noomi Rapace), of the
Prometheus mission.
Furthermore,
secrets, horrors and monsters abound in David’s new home, a necropolis that
once served as home to the Engineers.
“One
wrong note eventually ruins the entire symphony.”
There
is so much worthwhile to praise in Alien: Covenant in terms of theme
and atmosphere. I wrote in my introduction about the sinister, diabolical irony
of the film. This caustic application of malevolent destiny infuses the picture
with meaning, in many ways. Some might term this malevolent feeling “nihilism,” the “rejection of all religious and moral principles, often in the belief
that life is meaningless.”
That
definition doesn’t totally apply, however.
There
is, in David’s story (and agenda), a rejection of religious and moral principles, certainly.
But David makes it plain, through his words and deeds that life that to him is not
meaningless. Rather, the purpose of his life is to create new life, and destroy
his makers, the human race. His purpose is to make the universe a Hell, one in
which he reigns supreme.
Consider,
for example, what David does to Elizabeth Shaw. After he kills her, he utilizes
her body to create his children: the aliens. Elizabeth’s fate is horrible
enough to consider on its own, but when one remembers the details of
Prometheus, it is even worse.
Elizabeth’s
search for the Engineers arose, in part, from her inability to create life
herself. She was infertile, and therefore deprived of a biological capacity that
she believed gave human life purpose. Yet in her death, David has, ironically, “gifted”
Elizabeth with this capacity. In a biological sense, she is now the mother to
the xenomorphs. From a certain sense, her dream has come true.
Of
course, Elizabeth would not desire such a destiny; it is a twisted, dark
realization of her dream. And the operative word there is clearly “dark.”
Captain
Oram, a “man of faith” is similarly
treated in a sinister fashion. He feels victimized by his crew-mates because so
few people share his Christian beliefs. And as captain, he makes a difficult
choice, believing that the Covenant’s discovery of Shaw’s signal and the
Engineer world signal a form of “providence.”
It is a sign, that he should lead his people to this new promised land. Oram
feels validated in his faith, which has brought him to this junction, to this decision.
Of
course, he has been lured to the planet by a devil of sorts, in David, not by divine intervention.
And
David is responsible not only for the death of his wife, but for Oram's death too. Oram becomes the first human being in history (at least in-universe) to be implanted by
a face hugger. His faith has led him not to a promised land, but to
Pandemonium.
The
film is filled with such examples of diabolism. David has, for his own reasons
(perhaps the murder of his father, Weyland), committed genocide against the Engineers.
We see a scene (in flashback) in Alien: Covenant of
apparently-peaceful Engineer citizens destroyed in a WMD-style attack. Their own
bio-weapon (the black goo, for lack of a better description), annihilates
them. Again, we have seen death before
in the Alien films, but not on a scale such as this. A whole population is wiped out, horribly.
And
then, of course, the film ends with an Evil force literally driving the ship. David has
tricked Daniels into believing that he is Walter, his more benevolent sibling. She goes into cryo-sleep
helpless and defenseless, with the devil tending to her slumber.
And remember, David has
already made his intent towards Daniels plain. When she asks, in the necropolis,
what David intends to do with her, he replies that she will suffer the same
fate as Shaw did. Our Ripley-in-training here is clearly a goner.
And
still, the story is even darker, yet.
Now facing no opposition, David is in total control of Covenant and its cargo. He has 2,000 sleeping human beings to experiment with, not
to mention a cargo-hold filled with human embryos. His ability to play
Frankenstein, to “hone” the shape and form of his children, the aliens, is now
magnified geometrically.
The
Alien saga has always been dark, always been frightening. But before this film,
there has always been hope. Even in the third Alien film, Ripley’s sacrifice
meant something. It preserved the future of the human race.
Here, there is no hope to be felt. David is in control of the
surviving heroes (Daniels and Tennessee), and all the raw ingredients necessary to make
our universe his particular nightmare.
This
oppressive, dark turn is effective, as I’ve noted, if one considers this film the
middle-part of a trilogy. This movie is the equivalent of The Empire Strikes Back (1980), in other
words, the point in which good is defeated, and the stakes are the highest they’ve
ever been. If taken on those terms, the darkness makes dramatic, artistic sense.
Equally
intriguing is the overall theme behind this level of darkness, which involves
Gods and men, parents and children. Consider that “God” (if there is such a being)
created the Engineers. The Engineers then created man. Man created David. And now, David creates the aliens.
These movies
are thus about the act of creation, and furthermore, the way that parents and
children deal with resentment through rebellion.
The Engineers attempt to kill man,
their child, in Prometheus.
And
mankind, in the person of Weyland, makes his child, David, a slave, a servant
or a product; a thing, but not a “son.”
David’s act of rebellion against his God (mankind) is to create his
perfect children, the aliens. He is a fallen angel, like Satan, surrounding
himself with an army of demons by which to mount an assault on the heavens, if
not heaven itself.
Of course, the question for the next movie is simple: how will the aliens rebel against their father (David)? It could be by creating a hive-mind, taking ownership of their own biology (through the birth of a queen), and so on.
The
covenant of the film’s title might be interpreted in many illuminating ways. A covenant is
generally considered to be a pledge, a promise, or contract. Many scholars
define a covenant specifically as a contract between man and God.
What we have in this film,
then, is the breaking or destruction of a covenant. Yet David -- our antagonist -- is not actually the party who breaks the
contract, one might conclude. Rather, he is the injured party, upset about the
shattering of the covenant; upset at the betrayal by God. In this case, it was his father, Weyland, who broke the contract. He made his child only a "thing," not a person to be loved.
The
film also references Ozymandias (1818) a poem by Shelley
that David mis-attributes to Byron, until corrected by Walter. Ozymandias concerns the impermanence of empires, and the (futile) quest for a legacy.
If
nothing is permanent, what is left of us once we depart this mortal coil?
Weyland
believed that his legacy could be immortality. That’s why he sought out the
Engineers. Importantly, he did not view David as his legacy.
Similarly, the Engineers appear
to view humans, their creation, as monsters and competitors, not children.
The
outstanding question is: how does David view the aliens? Are they to be his
legacy, and if so, what do they represent?
My
answer? They represent his righteous hatred.
The aliens in their simplicity and purity make a mockery out of our own
reproductive cycle, and view humans not as beings with a divine spark, but as “meat”
to be re-shaped in the service of other life-forms.
I do wonder, however, how
David -- a being who appreciates art and music -- could conceive of “perfection”
in these aliens. They have no such calling to civilization, or art. They have no higher reasoning skills. He has made his children, essentially, emotionally empty.
All
of this text and subtext is here to be enjoyed and admired in Alien:
Covenant, and so the film will merit many re-visits in the years and
decades to come. I look forward to seeing it again.
And
yet, I am gravely disappointed with the fact that the film re-parses the origin
of the xenomorphs.
They are no longer from “out there” (the product of an alien
intelligence), but explicitly created by David, in the year 2104. I am not upset that this development essentially
un-writes the AVP movies (which feature aliens on Earth in the year 2004) or the connections to the Predator universe. I am,
however, disappointed that a franchise titled “alien” has decided to explain so
much, and made the explanations so, well, earth bound.
One
of the most amazing facets of Alien was the terrifying feeling that the crew of
the Nostromo was reckoning with something beyond human experience, beyond human
history, beyond human morality, and beyond human origin. The xenomorph was born of something, well, different. It was so “alien,” in fact, that it couldn’t be understood, or even killed.
Now,
we understand that humanity was intimately involved in the creation of the
xenomorphs. It is human parenting, actually, that is responsible for their
shape and nature.
It was very different to learn of the Engineers (another alien
race) and their role in creating humanity in Prometheus. There were still so
many unanswered questions there.
But
Alien: Covenant reveals that the xenomorphs are the revenge plot of a rejected
child, in essence. This disappointing and totally unnecessary explanation
changes the nature of the franchise immeasurable.
And I don’t believe it is a
good change.
I
liken it to the development of the Michael Myers character in the Halloween
franchise. Originally, he was the “Shape,” an impenetrable figure on a rampage
in his home town, Haddownfield. Was he a serial killer? A developmentally-arrested individual
playing “trick or treat” with life and death? Or was he, actually, the
boogeyman? The ideas were all
terrifying, and there was evidence to support each approach. But then, in the
second movie, we learned that Michael was out to kill all surviving family members,
and that explanation limited his terror somewhat. The explanation made his evil seem mundane.
Alien:
Covenant diminishes the horror of the franchise in the exact same way. The more we know and understand about the
xenomorphs, the less terrifying they become.
Familiarity breeds contempt. At least in terms of horror.
The most terrifying (and successful) elements of Alien: Covenant, not coincidentally, involve the neomorphs. They are things we have not quite seen before. They are new and mysterious, and therefore scary.
I do not mean to suggest that David’s story is unworthy, or uninteresting, but rather that
the back-story of the xenomorph creation removes a wonderful and scintillating
aspect of mystery from the entire saga.
I
suppose we live in a time that demands easy answers, and spoon-feeding. Some
critics have even seen Covenant as an under-the-cover tale of how Hollywood
directors must make Frankenstein monsters out of their own creations if they
wish to tell an original story in these times of “shared universes” and “franchises.” That's a clever reading of the film, but not one I am entirely certain I subscribe to.
I
am grateful, however, that an artist as clever and intellectually curious as Ridley Scott
retains the reins of this franchise. I think he moves it in the wrong direction here. But he moves in the wrong direction...in the most beautifully and thoughtful manner possible.
I but can’t help but feel, at this juncture, that Scott's take on
Prometheus was the right one. I would have liked to see a sequel wherein David and
Shaw go off to discover more about the engineers. Instead we get a sequel in which we learn
more about the aliens. Too much about the aliens, for my taste.
This is a story that we don’t need to see, no matter how well-shot or well-acted.
Mysteries
are such wondrous and fragile things. They spawn speculation, art, writing, and more. The
reductive nature of Alien: Covenant achieves the opposite end
By giving us too much information
about the xenomorph genesis, this 2017 film risks “spoiling” the whole symphony.
Monday, May 29, 2017
Ask JKM a Question: Slouching Towards Bethlehem?
A reader
and fellow blogger named David writes:
“I’m a blogger too, so don't lie to me. I know
that you have probably thought about this. You've been at this a long time.
A lot of bloggers compose a final
post while they are still writing their blogs.
So my question is: have you composed your last post even in your head if not on the screen, and if so what are the contents of it?”
David, are you trying to get rid of me?
Seriously, I agree that all bloggers think about “the end,” even if fleetingly, at one point or another during the lifetime of a blog.
Sometimes, their blog has lived a very long time, and the author has simply had the opportunity to say everything he or she wanted to say.
Sometimes they write that final post because they are tired or frustrated.
Sometimes they write it because a better opportunity has come up, somewhere else.
Sometimes they write such a post for the sake of posterity, I suppose.
Usually, as I said, however, that thought is fleeting.
But there is something, perhaps, in the very nature of blogging that makes a writer want to have the last word, and grant the ongoing journal some sense of closure…like finishing a (really long...) book, for example.
I really hate going to a blog I love and seeing that it just withered on the
vine, that posts just stopped coming for no apparent reason.
I always wonder: what happened?
Is the blogger still with us? What made him or her give up writing?
Too many really fine blogs have ended in that fashion.
I always wonder: what happened?
Is the blogger still with us? What made him or her give up writing?
Too many really fine blogs have ended in that fashion.
So
I do feel that closure is important for both the writer and reader. I am grateful for all the great bloggers I have read over the years who decided to compose that final post, and tell us that they were moving on.
If and when I stop blogging, I know this: I’ll be closer to my destination -- whatever that destination happens to be --
and I’ll be a different person/writer/blogger than I am today, right now.
So,
my final blog post will come at the end of the blog, and hopefully reflect the
journey that I have taken, in its last steps.
Writing it now wouldn't reflect or be true to the journey I described.
So I can tell you, definitively, I haven't written a final post.
Things could always change for me (like the end of Net-Neutrality; the creation of a tiered-Internet that relegates my blog to a slow lane...), but right now, I don't foresee the end.
If readers keep coming, I'll keep writing..
On that front, my blog audience has changed or rolled over three or four times in the nearly 13 years since I started. Those who read it now aren't necessarily those who started with it. Some folks have outgrown me, I guess, and some new folks have found my work and become regular, current readers.
The numbers wax and wane. I'll have a great year, then I have a flat year, then a better year. My blog has never been a big, flashy "it" blog or boutique destination, but it doesn't have to be, either. I'm just happy to have a platform to write, every single day, and I'm delighted to have a consistent, lovely, intelligent readership.
I am a full-time instructor at a community college for a year now (teaching film, among other subjects), so it has become harder to blog every single day, multiple times, but that doesn't mean that I plan to stop blogging. Some weeks, I have to rely on a rerun post or too, to get through.
But honestly, there's too much exciting stuff happening, and I enjoy blogging too much to entirely stop. A new Star Trek series, new Twin Peaks and more X-Files (season 11!) are all on the way.
So I may not always blog 1400 times a year every year from here to eternity, but nor do I imagine just stopping cold.
Therefore, I hope you'll still be reading...and I promise not to spring "the end" on you. At this moment, I have 737 blog posts banked in the queue.
And in the meantime, perhaps I'll devote some mental energy to what my last post might look like...but probably not.
I'll tackle that on the day the end comes.
Writing it now wouldn't reflect or be true to the journey I described.
So I can tell you, definitively, I haven't written a final post.
Things could always change for me (like the end of Net-Neutrality; the creation of a tiered-Internet that relegates my blog to a slow lane...), but right now, I don't foresee the end.
If readers keep coming, I'll keep writing..
On that front, my blog audience has changed or rolled over three or four times in the nearly 13 years since I started. Those who read it now aren't necessarily those who started with it. Some folks have outgrown me, I guess, and some new folks have found my work and become regular, current readers.
The numbers wax and wane. I'll have a great year, then I have a flat year, then a better year. My blog has never been a big, flashy "it" blog or boutique destination, but it doesn't have to be, either. I'm just happy to have a platform to write, every single day, and I'm delighted to have a consistent, lovely, intelligent readership.
I am a full-time instructor at a community college for a year now (teaching film, among other subjects), so it has become harder to blog every single day, multiple times, but that doesn't mean that I plan to stop blogging. Some weeks, I have to rely on a rerun post or too, to get through.
But honestly, there's too much exciting stuff happening, and I enjoy blogging too much to entirely stop. A new Star Trek series, new Twin Peaks and more X-Files (season 11!) are all on the way.
So I may not always blog 1400 times a year every year from here to eternity, but nor do I imagine just stopping cold.
Therefore, I hope you'll still be reading...and I promise not to spring "the end" on you. At this moment, I have 737 blog posts banked in the queue.
And in the meantime, perhaps I'll devote some mental energy to what my last post might look like...but probably not.
I'll tackle that on the day the end comes.
Don’t
forget to ask me your questions at Muirbusiness@yahoo.com
Cult-TV Theme Watch: Tigers
A tiger is a large, solitary cat, one renowned for its fierceness and raw power.
Given such noble and strong qualities, it is no surprise, perhaps, that tigers have appeared frequently throughout cult-TV history.
In the original Star Trek (1966-1969), for example, a tiger appeared in the early first season episode "Shore Leave."
As you may recall, this episode concerned an amusement park planet where the "wishes" of every crew member become reality. Late in the episode -- while Captain Kirk (William Shatner) is grappling with an old tormentor named Finnegan and an old flame named Ruth -- he must also deal with a loose, Bengal tiger. According to legend (which may be apocryphal...), William Shatner thought Kirk should wrestle the tiger, until someone talked him out of it.
The same year, Batman (1966-1968) featured a two-part episode called "The Purr-Fect Crime/Better Luck Next Time" featuring Julie Newmar's Catwoman. There, Batman was forced to contend with her pet, a tiger.
A few years back, a tiger was also seen in Hannibal (2013 - 2015).
The third and final season of this gripping series was an adaptation of the Thomas Harris novel Red Dragon, and involved a serial killer, Francis Dollarhyde (Richard Armitage). This "Tooth Fairy" killer developed a romantic relationship with a blind woman, Reba (Rutina Wesley), and at one point took her to visit a sedated tiger at the zoo. There, Reba was able to put her head to the tiger's chest, and feel the powerful animal's breathing.
The most celebrated of recent cult-TV tigers is no doubt Shiva, the constant companion of King Ezekiel (Khary Payton), on AMC's The Walking Dead (2010 - ).
Ezekiel goes nowhere without Shiva, and rules the Kingdom from his throne, with the tiger at his side. In the season seven finale, viewers see the more aggressive side of not-quite-domesticated Shiva. She launches an attack on Negan's minions at Alexandria.
Finally, tigers play an important role in Carnival Magic (1981), a bizarre "experiment" on Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Return (2017 - ).
The Cult-TV Faces of: Tigers
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Identified by Hugh: Star Trek: "Shore Leave." |
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Identified by Hugh: Batman. |
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Identified by Michael Gants: Space:1999 (Year Two) |
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Identified by Hugh: The Super Friends. |
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Identified by Hugh: The Incredible Hulk. |
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Identified by Hugh: Beastmaster (TV Series) |
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Identified by Hugh: Primeval |
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Identified by Hugh: Doctor Who: "In the Forest of the Night." |
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Identified by Michael Gants: Hannibal. |
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Identified by Hugh: The Walking Dead. |
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Identified by Hugh: MST-3K: "Carnival Magic." |
Saturday, May 27, 2017
Saturday Morning Cult-TV Blogging: Lidsville: "A Little Hoodoo Goes A Long Way."
In
“A Little Hoo-Doo Goes a Long Way,” Weenie (Billie Hayes) falls ill with the dreaded
Ali-Baba virus.
Meanwhile,
the Bad Hats mutiny against Hoo-Doo (Charles Nelson Reilly) when he demands
they clean his house for him.
The
Bad Hats steal Hoo-Doo’s hat vehicle, the Hataram, and head for the real world.
But the Hataram ends up in Mark’s (Butch Patrick) hands, ultimately.
He
can’t leave for home, however, because he is worried about the sick Weenie. He
and the other Good Hats come up with a plan to heal Weenie, and it involves a
shrink ray that will get Nursie into Weenie’s ring.
Lidsville
(1971-1973)
sticks rigorously to format this week, featuring a story in which Mark could –
again -- get home, using Hoo-Doo’s hat vehicle, but must stay in Lidsville because
of his friendship with the “goodie-goodies” (as Hoo-Doo calls them), namely
Weenie.
What
this means, essentially is that the hat-a-ram (motorized flying hat) is the key
to escaping Lidsville. It seems like Mark would set his sights, each week, on
getting it again. But, of course, he
doesn’t do that. Because that would end the series real quick.
It
is surprising, however, that the Bad Hats rebel against Hoo-Doo here. However,
I suppose that being asked to clean house is a mutiny-worthy offense,
especially to a child watching this program on a Saturday morning. It’s one thing
to lord it over the Good Hats, or collect back taxes. But having to clean up?
That’s the worst.
In
terms of series mythology, we see in “A Little Hoo-Doo Goes a Long Way” that the
genie ring is actually permeable. By that, I mean you can just step through the
gem into Weenie’s world inside. Nursie is able to, after being shrunk, walk right
inside it. Inside, the sick Weenie is there, shrunken, but bed-ridden in her
own little universe.
The
gimmick of the week is a shrinking potion, used first by Nursie, and then used
against Hoo-Doo to limit his threatening nature. The shrinking scenes are
accomplished using the chroma-key, which was a frequently-used tool for the
Kroffts in the 1970’s.
Next
week: “Oh Brother.”
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