Sci-Fi Wisdom of the Week: Lost

"Don't mistake coincidence for fate."

-John Locke (Terry O'Quinn), Lost, 11/01/06.

TV REVIEW: Jericho: "Long Live the Mayor"

It's Halloween-time in Jericho, Kansas, the first Halloween after the nuclear attack, and things are getting rough for the town. Power is still out town-wide (save for a few simple items like flashlights...), the old world economy has collapsed so that barter and trade have replaced cash as currency, the mayor is still deathly ill (three weeks on...) from the flu, and a local warlord, Jonah (played by Dexter's James Remar...) is making incursions into the town to steal food...and to break out his incarcerated goons like Mitch Cafferty.

Then squirrely Gary Anderson, the mayor's rival in an election that will probably never take place, returns from his scouting expedition outside Jericho with mixed news. New York City has survived the war intact (yes!), but Washington D.C. is nuked...gone. Worse, the roads between here and there are - for all intents and purposes - war zones. Raiders and roadblocks stop any cars, and will kill travelers for the merest scraps of food or water.

Finally, things really get bad when the mayor goes "septic," and needs the drug Cipro to survive. This need necessitates negotiations with Jonah, who also happens to be Emily's (Ashley Scott's) estranged father. I particularly liked the aspects of the episode involving Jake's attempts to rationally negotiate with Jonah. His brother Eric and Gary Anderson refuse to trade Cafferty for the food Jericho's people desperately need because they don't want to negotiate with a crimina (i.e. a terrorist)l. By their way of thinking, engagement and appeasement are apparently identical. Sound like any American president you know? Yes, Jericho is still about us, despite it's apocalyptic scenario...

Otherwise, this story involves many of Jericho's dramatis personae attempting to deal with the fact that one life has ended; another begun. The IRS auditor from D.C. must cope with the fact that everyone in her life has been "incinerated;" petty storekeeper Gracie learns that she's not such a good Samaritan after all, and that the old ways of accumulating wealth don't really fit in with the new economy of Jericho. Emily must put aside her personal battle with her estranged father, and Robert Hawkins learns that his wife was dating a man named Doug before the nuclear attacks. Yep, it's transition time in this small Kansas time, and it makes for some fine character moments in a series that I believe improves each and every installment. If not a great show, Jericho is - at least - a very good one, and on the road to greatness.

I also liked another small joke this week (last week it was a Vanilla Ice CD). this time, Jake is warned by his school teacher girlfriend, as he's about to head into the hot zone of Rouge River: "watch out for giant irradiated ants out there...," a reference, of course, to the great 1950s horror movie, Them.

TRADING CARD CLOSE UP # 7: Star Wars & Wonder Bread!

Okay, what 45-year old geek with a pulse didn't collect Star Wars trading cards back in 1977?   I know I certainly did. I also remember that Wonder Bread released a series of cards from the Lucas film at the time. Which meant that as kids, we had to relentlessly pressure Mom and Dad at the grocery store to buy us a loaf of Wonder Bread, so we could get that ONE measly card. Ah yes, commercialism...

Anyway, I have memories of going to a Shop Rite in New Jersey, near Verona if I recall, just dying to get to the bread aisle, so I could look 

for the Wonder Bread loaves with the Star Wars cards in them. Worse, I remember groping the soft, compliant bread (mmmm...Wonder Bread....) to see if I could expose the card inside, and see if it was one that I still needed for my collection. I think I was in second grade at the time...

Because I'm obsessive, I guess, I still own my Wonder Bread Star Wars cards, at least a few of them, so I thought it would be nice to feature them on a trading card close-up today.

As you can see from these cards, they feature images of the 

characters from the film; the title Star Wars running up the right corner, and the names of each character in bold red lettering across the bottom.

On the back of each card is a description of the character. Darth Vader, for instance, is described as "an awesome, evil figure dressed in flowing black robes" who "uses his extra sensory powers to aid Governor Tarkin in putting down the rebellion." Artoo-Detoo's legend describes the droid as a "round, meter-high information retrieval robot, whose face is a mass of computer lights surrounding a single radar eye."

Here, you can see cards three (Princess Leia Organa), four (Han Solo), Five (Darth Vader), Eight (Artoo-Detoo), and Twelve (Stormtroopers).

I don't know how many more there were of these in all, but I know I must have eaten at least five loaves of Wonder bread...

CULT MOVIE REVIEW: Sleeping with the Enemy (1991)

Now here's a prime slice of 1990s "thriller" cheese. In regards to Sleeping with the Enemy, I don't know that a worse movie has ever pressed itself so deeply and so permanently into the national lexicon (at least with the exception of Prince of Tides).

I mean, we all remember Julia Roberts discovering the straightened towels in her bathroom during the climax of Sleeping with the Enemy, don't we? And the lined-up cans in her cupboard? I know that for me, to this day, when my wife and I have an argument, I always (jokingly...) approach her by saying, "I'm sorry we quarreled...," Patrick Bergin's rejoinder and non-apology-apology to Julia Roberts' character in the film.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's re-cap the plot of this really terrible movie and guilty pleasure before we start dissecting the film's lack of virtues. Julia Roberts plays Laura Burney, a kept woman who lives every day in mortal fear of her abusive, obsessive-compulsive husband, Martin (Patrick Bergin). In order to escape her seaside dungeon (a beautiful modern home on Cape Cod...), Laura learns to swim - behind Martin's back - and then fakes her own death on a dark and stormy night at sea.

As Sarah Waters (get it? Waters?), Laura begins her life anew in a Norman Rockwellish, Red State midwestern small town. There, a drama teacher, Ben Woodward (Kevin Anderson) romances the tender-hearted woman, who's seen so much of male ugliness. But big bad Martin is not ready to give up his wife, and so he follows Laura's trail...preparing for that day of reckoning when he will again make this woman subservient. He's unaware, however, that Laura has come a long way, baby. This woman has learned to take care of herself and will never be a victim again...

These days, people often ask me why, when and how American mainstream film changed from being wonderful (1960s, 1970s and 1980s) to being generally rotten (1990s to present). In response, I point my accusatory middle finger at the early 1990s and films such as Sleeping with the Enemy. I believe that this was the sad, sad epoch in cinema history that screenwriters and directors with essentially no talent and no sense of artistry somehow ascended to the top tiers of Hollywood. The vast majority of them are graduates of film programs or film schools; but nonetheless people who don't understand film grammar or imagery and only want to be "the next Steven Spielberg." Essentially, these tyros couldn't write or direct their way out of a paper bag, leaving their production teams - particularly production designers and special effects technicians - to carry the weight of their less-than-satisfactory movies.

Exhibit A of bad 1990s movies could be Sleeping with the Enemy. What little artistry exists in this film rests entirely in the field of production design (courtesy of Doug Kraner). To wit, Martin's home is an example of glorious (but cold...) modern architecture. It is all hard angles and big windows (so we can see everything going on inside...), but it's a place where we wouldn't want to live. It is devoid of warmth, and generally the space is empty (think of the hotel in Kubrick's The Shining, only with zen minimalist furnishings). Like I wrote above, this is Laura's dungeon, and the architecture tells us everything we need to know about Martin's character: he's a stone cold bastard; stoic and austere...shorn of human warmth. Oh, the Berlioz (also from Kubrick's The Shining...) as love theme adds to the impression of a sociopathic maniac.

Then, at the film's 29 minute point, this Rapunzel escapes her tower prison, and heads to heartland America. Suddenly, the film is lensed entirely in autumnal browns and glowing oranges. All the warmth we missed in the white-on-white first portion of the film is now evident and on-screen by the bushel full. Laura rents a beautiful, perfectly restored historic home with a giant porch...wonderfully furnished. How she can afford this remains a mystery. However, it is only here in this "bosom," surrounded by Americana nostalgia and the trappings of the healthy middle class that her catharsis can begin. We get a montage of Laura "nesting" in this new "warm" home: painting kitchen cabinets, setting out potted plants, and swinging by sunset on her porch swing. Yes, it's individual therapy by way of Martha Stewart; the zen of Home Depot. Paint some cabinets, arrange some flowers, consume and purchase...and you will be happy and your inner child will be healed.

After the surprisingly effective production design (which tells us more about the world the characters inhabit than does the script), there's precious little for Sleeping with The Enemy to rely on, save a grandiose and overblown score by Jerry Goldsmith that to this day I can't get out of my head. Occasionally, you will notice, it is still used in movie trailers. Anyway, the rest of the film is a manipulation of Julia Robert's Pretty Woman image (already old by 1991, if you ask me...) and the requisite cheap thrills.

Let's get to Julia Roberts first. I generally have no problem with her as an actress, though I don't exactly like her either. She's mis-used badly in this film, particularly in a totally out-of-place and campy "Pretty Woman" montage that occurs with theatre instructor Ben at the college's drama department. There, to the tune of "Brown Eyed Girl," Julia does her "cute little girl" routine with costumes and props.. in one of the most nauseating, treacly montages I've had the misfortune to sit through. She adorns various and sundry "funny" hats and flashes that trademark million dollar grin. She puts on clown pants and juggles too. She wears elephant ears. She adorns a top hat. Kill me now.

Next, "Runaround Sue" is on the soundtrack as Ben and Laura dance together and connect on a human level her former husband could never understand. I merely point this out, but when a movie can't conjure the emotions necessary via acting, camera angles or script, it is forced to plug in a nostalgic, popular song that will do the job. This sort of soundtrack pinch hitting occurs twice in Sleeping with the Enemy.

As for Kevin Anderson's Ben...who, you ask? Well, uh Anderson is granted a particularly lame introductory scene. Julia spies him through her window as he's dancing in the backyard to the lyrics of West Side Story, using a water hose as a prop. It would be hard for any acting career to recover from this scene, and I think that's the case for old Kevin Anderson, since I haven't seen much of him lately. Also, there's a weird sub-text here. Laura has escaped a sexually domineering Alpha male in Bergin's Martin, and there's a scene where she endures rough intercourse with him (again, to the strains of Berlioz, I believe...). She exchanges this for...a West-Side Story singing guy who uses a water hose? Would that garden hose be a sign of some inadequacy on Ben's part? That West Side Story singing an indication of a less-than-heterosexual inclination?

Don't ask; don't tell.

After a comedy of poorly constructed coincidences (meant to create tension...) in which Martin and Laura fail to spot each other at a nursing home, the final act of Sleeping with the Enemy arrives and it's the inevitable home invasion we've seen in a hundred 1990s films (The Hand that Rocks the Cradle, Blue Steel, and Unlawful Entry...). Martin shows up to re-arrange the towels and cans, there's some tussling, and then she thinks he's dead. Surprise, he's not and he gets up again!!! Wow, who didn't see that one coming?

In the end, it takes three shots to put down the mad-dog (but virile...) husband, and Julia is left in the waiting arms of her new "safe" boyfriend. The ending is as predictable as everything else in this canned, homogenized, and processed thriller. Yet...the film survives and is well-remembered to this day by many. Sleeping with the Enemy is on the boob tube once a week - at least on basic cable - and was even re-made (sort of) as a J Lo movie a few years back, Enough.

So what's the appeal?

If you ask me, it's that the production design makes us feel a certain way which, at least subconsciously, we find comforting. It's a rejection of unAmerican coldness and an embracing of warm Americana. Oh, and the film is undeniably appealing to disenfranchised housewives who wish their husbands were more sensitive. They somehow groove on the idea of "escaping" everyday life, moving to an idyllic town and romancing an effeminate man who can communicate with them and meet all their needs with a minimum of fuss. What the movie is actually saying -and which I don't think these viewers understand - is that Laura can't be alone; can't survive on her own. She's just traded one unacceptable man for an acceptable one; but she's still defined herself as a "girlfriend" or wife. It's actually a very anti-feminist movie; not the pro-female parable that it masquerades as.

The cinema of the 1990s - the cinema of Sleeping with the Enemy - provides critics with a most difficult proposition. Before the 1990s, you could usually tell a bad film right off. Horrible actors, bad sound, and ineffective out-of-focus camera work were tell-tale signs you were in movie hell.

Yet by the 1990s, virtually every film to come out of the Hollywood machine was flawless from a technical standpoint, even sumptuous. Camera work is pristine. Music is evocative. The sound is impeccable. But the stories? That's where the cliches rest.

Even good critics might be taken in by Sleeping with the Enemy; they might be hypnotized by that production design; enraptured by that architecture. These "face" values hide the fact that movie's script is silly and stupid. One example of the latter: Martin discovers Laura's wedding ring floating in his bathroom toilet months after she supposedly died and started her new life. What, he hasn't used the bathroom in his house even once in all that time? Now that's mourning...
It used to take a few hundred thousand dollars and bad camera work to make a bad movie; with the advent of fare like Sleeping with the Enemy, Hollywood proved it could spend tens-of-millions to achieve the same result.

Happy Halloween!!!

Masters of Horror Season Two: "The V-Word."

In, "The V-Word," Masters of Horror's second season gets it's most mainstream (and in some senses, the scariest...) episode yet. Tobe Hooper's "The Damned Thing" is a deeply disturbing look at the cycle of familial violence repeated from one generation to another, and John Landis's superlative "Family" gazes at the underbelly of modern McMansion suburbia. I don't think "The V-Word" sub-text is quite so deep or spot-on...though there's a running comparison in Ernest Dickerson's episode to video game violence and "real life" violence that is worth mentioning.

No matter. "The V-Word" is chill-inducing. I believe it to be the most beautifully filmed (and stylish) of the MOH 2.0 episodes I've seen thus far, almost literally a "haunted house" tour of darkness and terror (which makes it appropriate viewing for Halloween...).

The tale finds two college students, Justin (Branden Naden) and Kerry (Arjay Smith), at loose ends one night. They decide to alleviate their boredom with video games by visiting an ominous local funeral home, tellingly named Collinswood (a sideways reference to the vampire family in Dark Shadows). What they find in that ghastly, dimly lit funeral home is terrifying. A real life, yellow-toothed vampire (played with gusto by Michael Ironside...) has killed everyone inside, but is still hungry for more. Kerry gets bitten by the vampire (or, more accurately, he gets his throat torn out...) and then he turns Justin into a creature of the night. But Justin doesn't want to join this particular club, especially since the cost seems to be feeding on his family, specifically his young sister...

The finest element of "The V-Word" is not really the plot (we've seen stories about reluctant vampires before; in films as diverse as Fright Night, Near Dark and Lost Boys), but rather director Dickerson's splendid staging and mise-en-scene. He brings every scare scene to life in a joyous, go-for-broke fashion. The set design of the Collinswood funeral home is beautiful - appropriately ornate and gothic - and the impenetrable, pervasive darkness generates a nice anticipatory atmosphere of dread. Revealing he understands the tricks of the trade, Dickerson employs a number of subjective first person shots, or P.O.V. shots, to help the audience grasp the terrain of the battle. That's a necessity for good "jolts," and Dickerson delivers the goods.

I predict that mainstream TV audiences will enjoy this episode the best of the three I've previewed on the blog because it so brilliantly and effectively lensed. The episode's finest moment arises as Kerry and Justin stand in the darkness of the funeral home, frightened. In the distance ahead, the only illumination comes from an EXIT sign over a doorway. That's their escape route, but to cross it, they must navigate a long, dark hall...where anything could be waiting. As you might guess, this is the set-up for a spine-tingling scene in which "obstacles" appear in the darkness to prevent egress. Also to the good: I love the John Carpenter-esque, pulse-pounding score, and I deeply appreciated Dickerson's visual homage to Halloween. There's a scene wherein a hero stands in the foreground (in focus), while behind him - in the background and in more diffuse focus - a villain believed dead suddenly bolts up, unseen. Yep, it's a Michael Myers shot...and it always works!

I think "The V-Word" also marks the first time in horror films or television, that I've seen a bloody I-Pod as part of the carnage; proof positive that the technology has officially suffused our society since now it's showing up in a "teen" horror-type story. Otherwise, I'm kind of diffident about the validity of the theme which rests at the heart of "The V-Word." There's some unspoken, contextual criticism of "kids today" with "their video games," (I'm paraphrasing). The template here is video game violence and death versus real life violence and death, and the writer's seeming belief that a generation of young gamers don't understand the difference. Tp wot. when Justin and Kerry explore the funeral home, one says: "In a video game, this is the boring part." Okay, I get what the story is going for; it's interesting enough, but it doesn't quite work for me. Perhaps that's because I know some very nice young fellas who are consummate video gamers. I can state this about them with utter confidence: at their age (early twenties...) they have already run circles around me intellectually, professionally and philosophically. They're responsible, courteous young folk - scholars, really - who view video games as a valid art form. They're on the vanguard there. This is how I viewed television fifteen years ago...and the rest of the world has caught up with that perspective. So I don't really buy the theme of this story that our kids have had their minds muddled by the format of video games. And horror is a genre for the young.

But this is a minor quibble, and ultimately beside the point. I don't have to "buy into" the theme to note that it is well handled as a leitmotif. And my reaction doesn't mean that "The V-Word" isn't a splendidly-shot show which horror fans will enjoy. And - oh yes - it's gory to the max. There's one scene where Ironside gets a syringe in his eyeball, and another moment whereon a victim's torn up neck looks to be holding on by a thread...or a sinew.

Trick or treat!

Catnap: Lila's new sleeping arrangements...

Well, Princess Lila's had enough of baby Joel crying and waking us up all night every night, and has officially evacuated the bed for now. For the time being, she's sleeping downstairs in the family room. Odd cat...she chose the floor last night instead of a sofa. I guess any port in a storm...

Sci Fi Wisdom of the Week: Lost in Space

"Little setbacks are good for the young. They build character."

-Dr. Zachary Smith, Lost in Space episode # 4, "Island in the Sky" (by Carey Wilbur).

SATURDAY MORNING CULT TV BLOGGING: Flash Gordon: "Blue Magic"

Flash Gordon's Chapter Ten, "Blue Magic," (by Samuel Peeples), involves Flash's adventure in yet another Mongo kingdom commanded by a gorgeous Queen. Let's see, there was the underwater queen, Undina and then the Fridgian Queen, Fria. Now there's Azura, "witch queen" of Sik, a ruler "linked with the Evil Gods themselves." Like her queenly counterparts, Azura has a hard-on for Flash Gordon, which makes me ask the question: Aren't there any eligible males on Mongo besides this guy?

Anyway, we find out in "Blue Magic" that Flash is the spitting image of Azura's long-departed lover, named "Gor-Don." You see, "Gor-Don" was once the all-powerful ruler of Mongo, a sort of Alexander the Great figure. He ruled the planet wisely with Azura as his mate, but then he left to conquer other worlds and his high priest - Ming the Merciless - seized power on Mongo. Ming once attempted to defeat Azura but she used her magical powers to destroy his million-man army. Now, Ming gives Azura a wide latitude and no longer attempts to conquer her domain.

In this episode, Azura, who commands the "Blue Fire Worms," captures Flash, Thun, Zarkov and Dale while they are still riding the railroad back to Arboria (from Fridgia) to rendezvous with Barin and Vultan. Inconvenient that the rocket rail passes right through her kingdom. But anyway, the captives are ushered into the blue cavern kingdom on a magic carpet (by a wizard.) Then Zarkov, Thun and Dale are entrapped in a giant crystal ball, as Azura imposes the personality of Gor-Don upon Flash with a "memory crystal," thereby making him forget his friends and become her consort. Hubba-hubba.

But Zarkov, realizing that "knowledge is the sharpest weapon of all," manages to outfox the evil wizard minion, and he and the others race to stop Flash as the earther leads Azura's army (on a chariot, no less...) into battle against Barin and Vultan, who have come to his rescue.

Next week: "King Flash!"

Masters of Horror, Season Two: "Family"

Masters of Horror premieres tonight at 10:00 pm, and in honor of its return, I'm blogging another new episode of the series' second season today, in particular John Landis's "Family" (by Brett Hanley). The great thing about anthology programs in general - and MOH in particular - is the versatility the format offers. "The Damned Thing" was straight-up gory horror, yet "Family" is a different breed all together.

In some sense, "Family" arises from the same genre school as that 1980s film The Burbs, or another 80s flick, The Stepfather. Basically, this installment serves as a critique of modern American suburbia, noting that the anonymity of these new communities (and gaggles of McMansions...) only makes it easier for a committed serial killer to do his thing. After all, our life-styles are always on the move these days. We moving from place to place (houses are investments in 2006, not just homes...), and we don't really have time (or the energy...) to put down roots in one place and really know our neighbors any more. Over the years, suburbia has gotten ribbed on The X-Files too (in the sixth season episode, "Arcadia,") but "Family" quickly finds a valuable niche. It's a satirical effort, unlike "The Damned Thing," and John Landis seems to be having a wicked good time with the material.

"Family" opens with idyllic, idealized views of the American suburbs. Lawns are neatly trimmed; flowers bloom under radiant sunshine; families and children work and play in apparent safety. Landis's camera soon roves in-doors, however, into the home of a most peculiar fella named Harold, played by George Wendt. The camera grants what Harold later calls his "grand tour," as the strains of Christian, gospel music play loudly on the soundtrack. A nice touch here: on one chest of drawers rests a portrait of a glowering Dick Cheney. Proof positive, if you ask me, that Harold is a nut...just look at the man he admires. Mr. "Last Throes" Delusional himself (important since Harold is delusional...). Anyway, the tour ends in the basement, where we meet Harold...and he's busy pouring acid on a decaying corpse.

You see, Harold kills people, burns off their flesh, scrubs their bones, and then lovingly re-constructs their skeletons to serve as his ad-hoc family. There's his little skeletal daughter, Sarah, his nagging wife, and his old man. During the course of the episode, we also witness Harold hunt a grandmother for daughter Sarah (who talks to him...) and consider also killing her a big sister.

As Harold lives his twisted family existence behind closed doors, the Fullers - David (Matt Keeslar) and Celia (Meredith Monroe) - move in next door. They quickly befriend Harold, and before long, the corpulent serial killer decides he'd like Celia to be his new wife. When David mysteriously disappears, Harold seizes his chance and invites the gorgeous Celia over for dinner. He wants to introduce her to his folks and Sarah...whom he has tenderly propped up in the TV room...in a pose of greeting.

This is the set-up for "Family," an installment which reminds us that, well, we don't always know our neighbors quite as well as we think we do. The episode moves along at a merry, swift pace until it culminates with a surprise ending and double-cross that balances the scales of cosmic justice. In terms of gore, one of the program's closing shots (in which the camera seems to travel up one character's nostrils...) also looks disturbingly real...

Not as gory as "The Damned Thing," "Family" shares in common with that episode is a dedication and commitment to something Hollywood often doesn't permit in genre films these days: sub-text. The commentary on suburbia subtly suggests that the middle class is going mad behind closed doors (and I'm not just talking about Harold, as you'll see when you watch the episode.) "Family" also benefits from Wendt's portrayal of a madman. This Cheers alum doesn't play the role as a lark and doesn't "camp" the character up either. Instead, he takes the part seriously. He plays a perfectly polite and genial fellow...who also happens to commit murder on a regular basis. It's a great, nuanced performance.

"Family's" ending, which brings just desserts to Harold (to the strains of more Jesus tunes...) is a fitting one, and the episode is a perfect treat for Halloween. If the rest of the season is as strong as the two episodes I've watched so far, it could be Halloween on Showtime all autumn long...

TV Review: Jericho: "9:02."

The missiles are flying this week on CBS's Jericho. Yep, it's retaliation. That's the Federal response, apparently, to this ongoing crisis in the U.S. heartland. Where are the missiles headed? Syria? Iran? China? North Korea? Any nation that Jake terms "one of the usual suspects?"

Well, we still don't know. America's enemy in this war is still a mystery. And I like that facet of the series, since this isn't a drama about international negotiations, but rather about a small town having to start over in a "new world," as one of the characters aptly terms the situation.

Unfortunately, whether the old world or the new world, it seems the human race will always have to deal with bullies and opportunists; folks who exploit tragedy to try to get ahead. That's the theme this week on Jericho as tempers begin to flare in town. An EMP has gone off, you see, and for two weeks there has been no power. Nerves are frayed. Citizens start to break the law. The town is overrun by complaints, yet there's no legal mechanism to try any criminal who's been arrested. the nearest judge is at the county seat...and may be long dead.

And then, while the town folk grow fractious (and farmer Stanley and storekeeper Gracie fight over the last stock of crop pesticide...), in rides Mitch Cafferty, a real troublemaker who sees Jericho's misfortune as his big day. Jake used to run with Mitch back in the day, so he knows what this interloper is capable of and wants to stop him. He's given pause by Dad, the mayor. "If this family starts breaking the law, how can we enforce it?"

Good question, Pops. Of course, I hate to say it - and Robert Hawkins seems to understand this best - but unless Jericho's finest can maintain order and stop the Mitch Caffertys of the world, the town will descend into chaos and anarchy in no time. That's the danger looming.

Since this is a family show, that doesn't happen. After stealing the mayor's horses, there's a conflict and Mitch is brought down by Jake and Eric. Meanwhile, the town pulls together to harvest Stanley's endangered crops, and the story emerges as a parable about cooperation and team work in bad times. Mushy stuff? Perhaps, but you know...I kinda liked it. It's a good message, and isn't spoon fed with a helping of treacle.

One great joke this week on Jericho: Robert teaches his daughter how to use a gun and takes her out for some target shooting. What's the target: (now useless...) music cds! In particular, she blows away Vanilla Ice's "To the Extreme." Ouch.