It will be interesting to see where we are at the end of the year.
At this point, 54% of Americans live in a jurisdiction where same-sex marriage is either available or are awaiting the end of a stay of court ruling to be legal.
Amazon has their new pilots available for free viewing. So far, I’ve watched two of them.
Mrs. Nat’s TV was correct when she pegged Mozart in the Jungle as having a taste of the beloved Slings & Arrows behind it. This time, it’s an symphony rather than a theater group that is facing changes, but it’s got that very insider-y, real-except-we’re-exagerating-ourselves-to-be-kinda-epic feel to it. Clearly not a cheap piece to produce (lots of sets, known actors like Malcolm McDowell, Bernadette Peters, and in the lead, Saffron Burrows), it didn’t catch me up the way Slings & Arrows did, but if it goes to series, I’ll definitely try a second episode to see if it grows on me.
Gortimer Gibbon’s Life on Normal Street felt like it specifically wanted to be The Adventures of Pete & Pete; it’s a narrated story of a group of children in a setting that was basically our suburbs with these fantasy elements worked in (and by the way, that’s a genre I’ve done a couple short stories of in prose, so it’s one I have a taste for.) Alas, where, Pete & Pete managed to have a gentle sense of whimsy and winging it, of not taking itself too seriously (perhaps encouraged by some of its cheap production values. This all feels much more calculated and thus much less fun. Calculated and slick can work in these regards (see: Pushing Daisies), but you gotta have some real magic that this pilot doesn’t show.
I always like stories of smart things having good repercussions beyond what was expected. There was a story a year or so back about the earliest known sound recordings, which were never meant to be played back. The creator of the “phonautograph” was merely playing with how voice could shake a pen that was making a line; it wasn’t until a century and a half later that someone figured out “hey, we can turn this line back into sound!”
I just ran across another of those stories, and it’s about an acknowledged creative genius, Méliès, the early filmmaker (if you saw the movie Hugo, you know the guy I mean.) Due to some problems with distribution, Méliès found that he needed two negatives of each movie. Rather than having two cameras that needed separate operation, he simplified the shooting: he built a special camera that was really two cameras in one, two reels of film, two lenses. Sure, they’d each get a slightly different image, but they were close enough that it shouldn’t make much difference.
You’re seeing what’s coming, aren’t you?
That’s right. a century later, someone paired the two prints back together, and got these early masterpieces in totally legitimate 3-D.
Back before Dr. Mrs. Nat’s TV was a Dr. or a Mrs., back when we had just gotten engaged, well, I felt a bit of trepidation about that… not just because of the usual marriage jitters, but because marriage was being used as a legal tool to keep my gay friends (and even gay folks I didn’t like so much) in a second-class situation. So I got engaged, but the future-Dr. Mrs. and I agreed that if any state legalized same-sex marriage before it was time to book our honeymoon, we would honeymoon in that state.
Which was easy to say, since the state that was actively moving in that direction at the time was Hawaii. When they punted, and it looked like we might have to marry in Vermont. To our vast dismay (and a small amount of relief), Vermont punted as well. Since no state was going to have same-sex marriage before our wedding, we were free to honeymoon where we wished. And yes, we wished Hawaii.
Starting today, plenty of same-sex couples are getting married in Hawaii. May they have wonderful lives together, and wonderful honeymoons. May I suggest Vermont?
Since the way male comic pros treat women at cons is the topic that’s going around (thanks in large part to the brave postings of my pal and collaborator, Tess Fowler), and since I’m seeing a few very odd reactions to it, I feel like I need to balance some of those odd reactions. No one is asking you to stop being human. No one is asking you to never think of sex. No one is saying that if you ever misread a signal, you’re horrible. Few if any are even saying that if a woman shows up and expresses the desire for the sheer unlimited awesomeness of having intimate physical relations with A Real Comics Creator, you cannot find some legitimate mutual benefit in that (but no; I’ve been going to cons for decades, and if you think that is happening to you, at least take a second to figure out if there’s some way you may be misinterpreting it.)
But if you’re trying to bring up sexual possibilities quickly in an environment that is not set up for that, yeah, you’re being a shmuck.
If you’re trying to subtly suggest that there might be benefit to an assignation beyond mutual pleasure and perhaps some genuine possibility of something longer term, yeah, you’re being a shmuck.
If you think that sexual access is something you’ve earned via your awesomeness, yeah, you’re being a shmuck.
If you’re reading sexual signals into things repeatedly at a con, you’re being an idjit. You may be confusing women at a con being in personal presentation business mode (smiling, attentive, and nicely dressed) with a different set of social signals. Notice that you’re not actually getting anywhere, and learn.
Folks: Don’t be surprised when folks you consider talented, or even folks you consider feminist, also show some shmuck tendencies. Being a good artist or knowing how to turn a phrase does not turn off heterosexual drives. Thinking that women can do things just as well as men and should be free to succeed does not turn off the desire to be doing nekkid things with them.
The women who are at a con are not there for your pleasure. Even the women who have spent thousands of dollars trying to emulate an Adam Hughes cover shot are there for their pleasure, not yours, and if your pleasure is gained by detracting from their comfort… or even if you’re willing to detract from their comfort for a long-shot at pleasure… then please find somewhere else to go. Cons get so much better when the women creators get treated as part of the creator class, and for that matter when the women who feel like squeezing their lithe or ample selves into Catwoman or Black Cat outfits aren’t made to feel like they’ve put a target on ourselves.
Almost all of us will have moments in our lives when our drives make us a little stupid, a little awkward, push a little too close to the line. I’ve made mistakes (no, I’m not listing them); please try to recognize them in yourself, and pull back.
And if you see the opportunity to discourage such behavior in other guys, whether it’s taking a moment to give a guy a clue or being ready to physically block something that is getting out of hand, please do.
I had heard brief mention of a Remington Steele reboot being planned, which brought to mind my key thoughts on doing such a reboot a few years back. For those unfamiliar with the series, it was about a female P.I. who was having trouble establishing herself due to the “female” part of that phrase, so she gave her agency a fake male figurehead, the titular Remington Steele… only to find that a slick, handsome conman shows up, claiming to be Mr. Steele, and insinuates himself into her business.
My main thoughts on reworking this for a more recent time:
- the key problem with reworking RS is the central “she was getting nowhere because she was a woman” doesn’t play nearly so strongly in modern times (not that everything is hunky dory on that regard, but the conversation has changed.) So either this is a period piece, or she has something else holding her back; if we make her not one of the beautiful people, perhaps disfigured by not disabled, that might work. “Handsome con man” still solves the problem.
- the key and amazing thing that you didn’t have to change? Casting Pierce Brosnan. Older, confident conman actually would work better in the role than young impetuous one. Yes, it means that the romance aspect is May/December, but even concern about that can be overcome with the she-is-not-beautiful aspect, as it becomes less “desperate older man seeking hot young thing” and more “finally, a man mature enough to see past her surface.”
But it’s a moot point, because it turns out they’re not restarting the series; they’re doing a sequel, the next generation.
A couple weeks back, Mrs. Nat’s TV and I had our anniversary. We chose to celebrate by taking in a couple of entertainments. We bought two tickets for The Sunshine Boys starring Danny Devito and Judd Hirsch. Now, I hadn’t seen the stage version before, but had seen both of the filmed versions (the excellent Walter Matthau/George Burns theatrical release, and the better-forgotten Peter Falk/Woody Allen telefilm); the Mrs. had not experienced it in any way. We had sprung for front-row tickets, which may seem like an indulgence, but once you’re paying for a babysitter for an extended evening of getting into the city, dining, and a show, the total cost difference between being barely able to make out the figures on stage (as we had done from the last row on an earlier anniversary, going to see The Producers) and being able to count Devito’s nostril hairs if one wished (we didn’t) is small.
The play is good and sharp, and works fine as a period piece (which it now is and wasn’t when it was written; due to being grounded in vaudeville, one cannot slide it in time.) It was well performed, even though the very talented Mr. Devito is not optimal for the lead role. The first half of the first act in particular seems written for someone whose delivery is more down and inward, a certain sort of grump, while Devito, even when playing nasty characters, has always been more of an outward glow sort of person. He still managed to make that material work.
The play runs on a basic Simon formula: take two people who don’t want to be together, and put them together. That’s the Sunshine Boys, the Odd Couple, the Goodbye Girl, Seems Like Old Times, Max Dugan Returns, and so forth. I’ll have to play with that myself as a formula; it’s an obviously workable engine.
The next day, we snuck out for a mid-day showing of Gravity. It was obvious from the way this film was being discussed as an immersive experience that we wanted to see it in 3-D, but we thought we’d skip the IMAX fee. As it turns out, the showing we showed up for was in XD, which is a competing format for IMAX but the same idea… and it was probably worth the extra bucks. Even though one can find quibbles with anything, and this is no exception, the entire ride was tense and well worth it, an impressive piece of filmmaking and something to hold up as an example of What We Can Now Do, on a technical level. It’s an action effects film that, should it be nominated for the Best Picture Oscar, there will be many people who will think it doesn’t deserve it, but no one will be surprised it’s there. Do go see it while it is still on the big screen, preferably a high-tech one. (I’ve felt for a while that there should be some effort to keep really IMAXy films available in that format; if I owned a multiplex in a resort area and had two IMAX screens, I’d be tempted to see if I could keep hold of some of the releases; if three years from now, I was still showing Gravity twice a week and The Dark Knight once, and other films in there as well, I bet I could make some bucks out of people who missed them the first time around or who want that experience again.
Had an odd dream last night… often do, but this one is lingering for some reason. I was watching what I kept thinking was a remake of Neil Simon’s The Sunshine Boys (which I saw a stage version of the other day; more on that in another post), starring Walter Matthau and Woody Allen (who are actually the stars of the theatrical and telemovie versions of The Sunshine Boys, respectively), but I kept being bothered by the fact that in this version, they weren’t old vaudevillians who had to work together one more time, but old handymen. I was particularly distracted by a shot of Matthau’s character falling off the top of a third story roof, bouncing off the layers of roof below, as it was clearly not Matthau that was falling but a stunt man with a Matthau face badly pasted over his. My confusion about the remake was cleared up; this was not a remake of The Sunshine Boys, but of Neil Simon’s The Marrying Man (which makes little sense, as I’m pretty sure it is not about two old anythings getting together, but of two younger things of varying sexes getting together; I suspect both men were taking the slot played by Alec Baldwin in the film, rather than the chanteuse ill-played by Kim Bassinger, based on my memories of having seen that film when it was released.)
So I look up this new version of The Marrying Man, which is still being produced as I’m watching it (perhaps I’m watching dailies?), expecting that there is some superstar director being given the chance to revive it, and it turns out that it’s a guy who has never directed a film before, and his main background is being a burglar. And when I talk to him about my involvement in earlier versions of either Sunshine Boys or Marrying Man, I open a three ring binder to show some information, only to discover that I had hidden $1200 in the binder, and now I have to figure out where in my house I can put the binder, where the burglar/director cannot find it should he choose to come after it, but where I’ll remember I put it if I ever need it.
The brain dumps itself in very odd ways.
(Note to any burglars reading this: no, I do not actually keep $1200 in a binder in my house. Don’t bother.)
Dear TV writers:
A backslash is never part of a webaddress. Never. Those things after the h, the two t’s, the p and the colon? Those are slashes. If you must, forward slashes. So’s the thing after the dot-com part.
Special note for the writers of The Michael J. Fox Show: this is not a mistake those under 25 would make. They’ve never worked in MS-DOS. If they’ve been working in the command prompt world, it’s because they’re tech-savvy enough not to make this mistake.
–Nat, of http://gertler.com/ <-Note, no backslashes.