We’ll hire a dog to burn down a hospital
We’re back…in 2004…or maybe 1984 (more on that later). The very first shot of the episode was that of Jack’s eye from the series premiere nearly five years ago. I’m pretty sure it’s the same footage of his eye from that premiere as well, for what it’s worth. Time flies, eh? I’m not sure anyone would’ve predicted our castaways off the Island before the series ended, let alone early in season 5, with six of them trying to get back there. What a long, strange trip it’s been.
Last night’s dramatic shootout victory for the Sabres reminded me, not only of everything I love about sports, but also of its amazing power to lift spirits and heal a wounded community’s conscience, if only for a short while. Most of the area woke up to the terrible news of Flight 3407’s crash in Clarence Center the night before, 50 souls perishing in the tragedy. While we know the family members are linked to the crash, it’s striking how few degrees of separation there were between everyone else in the area and those lost.
Just about everyone I talked to on Friday either knew someone on the plane, or had a friend that was related to someone on the plane, or knew the daughter of someone’s fiancée on the plane, etc., etc. Everyone’s linked, and in a region that’s struggled economically in the past decades, those still living here have suffered innumerable blows to its collective spirit over the years.
So we ended last week with the Oceanic 6 one Hurley acquittal away from being reconstituted and ready to head off to the Island. Of course, as TV shows are wont to do, things are never that easy, and I fear we might have to sit through a few episodes of melodramatic whining before everyone wises up and realizes they all have to head back (I particularly enjoyed Ben furthering that cause by yelling at Jack and Sun in the van, telling them he’s gone through hell trying to savae their asses while they sit around and complain). Based on the pace the show’s maintained thus far in season 5, however, I don’t think we’ll have to wait that long. And hell, they can stay reluctant and go on vacation for all I care, as long as we keep getting more pieces of the Island’s backstory filled in.
| I talk of freedom You talk of the flag I talk of revolution You’d much rather brag And as the decibels of this disenchanting discourse All this discussion And as the final sunset rolls behind the earth Yeah… Look where all this talking got us, baby [x3] Talk on… (I warned you Look where all this talking got us, baby [x3] Lie, liar, liar, liar (You, yourselves know soon |
 Live Throwing Copper Release: April 26, 1994 Lyrics: Ed Kowalczyk Music: Live |
The fifth season of Lost continues at a breakneck pace, one I can only hope continues to be the norm through the remainder of the series. In light of its defined stop date at season 6, I’ve gotta think the writers will have plenty to pack into the remaining 30-some episodes. I’m giddy.
Welcome to another Super Bowl Sunday, America. Despite my presence being required at a Super Bowl party with some friends, I vow nonetheless to bring you my trademark coverage featuring pithy commentary and scathing criticism of everything NBC puts on the air. There may be some good football as well; let’s hope.
I have a feeling things’ll get a bit simpler, timewise, as this season moves along, but for now things are whizzing past our heads with alarming alacrity. I’ll do my best to keep things straight for us. I don’t have an overarching theme or plot thread to talk about at length as I usually do to open these posts. Rather, as this episode seemed to be composed of disparate puzzle pieces we can now fit in to help clarify the larger picture, I think it’s best I assemble this post in much the same fashion. (Simply said, time for my patented, lazy use of bullet points!)
director: Joel & Ethan Coen
starring: George Clooney, Frances McDormand, John Malkovich, Brad Pitt, Richard Jenkins
What the frick was that? How do the guys who put together No Country For Old Men make this near-revolting turd of a movie? Burn After Reading tries to be many things at once, and by doing so fails miserably at all of them. Had this been strictly a screwball comedy, or strictly a spy movie, or strictly a drama/thriller, it might’ve worked. But the mashed-together genres and the transition between them are so jarring you’re left slack-jawed with incredulity. It just doesn’t work.
There are moments that should be laugh-out-loud funny; there are moments where you should be on the edge of your seat; there are moments where you almost start appreciating the great character work by the actors. But the laughter dies in your throat; the appreciation for acting fades; and the comprehension of the plot could only be considered “sound” if you’ve done copious amounts of illegal narcotics.