Monday, March 20, 2006
I have seen the future, and it is British
Friday night was the American premiere of Doctor Who. I know that this is old news for those of you not in the Colonies and that Christopher Eccleston has already been replaced by David Tennant, but I'm excited dammit! I grew up on Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker and Peter Davison reruns on PBS and this is the first new Who I've ever seen. (No, I'm not counting that crappy, crappy, crappy 1996 TV movie.)
I expected to like it regardless of how good it was, and I even expected to like it and still be a little disappointed. But I loved loved loved loved loved it. It was everything you expect from DW: a bizarre, funny Doctor, a cute, spunky sidekick, silly but menacing B-movie aliens. And it's cleverly updated for the 21st century without losing any of its original charm: cell phones, conspiracy theories, and the Doctor even has his own internet site. Even the music was fantastic. The only thing I hated was the ugly, vaguely Giger-esque new interior of the TARDIS.
Eccleston was great and manages to be charming and vaguely creeping at the same time. ("If you're an alien, why do you sound like you're from the North?" "Lots of planets have a north!") I've only seen Rose in two episodes and she's already my new favorite Companion. When I saw the Doctor and Rose running down the London street hand in hand chasing down some alien menace, I knew that Doctor Who was back.
"Did I mention it travels in time?"
woh-oh, tainted love! - spoilers ahead
The plastic people were silly, but better than a garden variety squishy alien thing. The mannequins with guns in their arms were a bit much, though. They probably could have milked the plastic men for another hour or so, but then again that might have dragged in the middle like a lot of 90-120 minute DW episodes.
The second episode was another classic DW-type scenario - a bunch of weird random aliens gathered together for some arbitrary reason. The special reason this time is the end of the world - 5 billion years in the future, the day the sun destroys the Earth. And the soundtrack to the end of time is Soft Cell's "Tainted Love", preserved on an "iPod" (actually a Wulitzer jukebox) which later plays Britney Spears' "Toxic" when the sun starts killing people. The humor had a vicious bite, but the episode was also pretty touching, with the sacrifice of the delightfully charming tree woman Jabe and Rose's 5 billion year cell phone call to her mum.
Next week - Zombies! In 1869!
First I was excited about V for Vendetta, then I was wary when I learned the Wachowski brothers were involved. Sure I loved The Matrix despite the presence of that mystic nonsense about "The One" ("I know you hate that mystic shit"), but the sequels (or sequel since I couldn't stomach the third after seeing the second) were straight out of a bad video game. (The Keymaster? Wtf?) And my nervousness only got worse when I learned Alan Moore got his name taken off the movie.
You can rest easy. VfV is easily the best film adaptation of Moore's work to date. From Hell was a good Jack the Ripper yarn, but the Hughes brothers, though faithful to the time period and Campbell's visuals, were unable or unwilling to deal with the most interesting aspects of Moore's work, like the time jumping and the more outrageous aspects of the Masonic rites. Not much insulting can be said about the film League of Extraordinary Gentlemen that hasn't already been said, and the ridiculous lawsuit which he was dragged into added insult to injury. I don't blame Moore for being pissed off at Hollywood, but it's a shame his name was removed since this is a very good film.
Hollywood is hard enough to deal with normally, but Moore's dealings with them have been exacerbated by his unusually strong sense of artistic integrity. It's a testament to how our culture has been debased that his sense of integrity is considered unusual. It reminds me of his creation Rorschach from the Watchmen: "Never compromise. Not even in the face of armageddon." Run of the mill Hollywood crap, like producer Joel Silver's lying about Moore being happy with the screenplay, pisses him off. It should piss everyone off, but it's the kind of thing that makes most people roll their eyes and say, "Oh, that's just the movie business." Hollywood is baffled by someone like Moore. Their instinctive reaction is to write him a bigger check, but Moore has given all his money from movie adaptations to his artists. Hollywood doesn't know how to deal with that sort of integrity. Me neither; I'd keep the money and be angry. *shakes angry fist full of cash at Hollywood*
Any revolution without dancing isn't a revolution worth having - very minor spoilers
Moore has some legitimate complaints about the adaptation. V's anarchist philosophy and the fascist and white supremacist nature of the government have been downplayed, but there's enough of it left to scare the crap out of right-wingers like Michael Medved. ("V for vile, vicious, vacuous, venal, verminous and vomitaceous.") The screenplay still relies a bit too much on the "kill the right people and everything gets better automatically" type of plot. But the subplot with Valerie and Rose is still there and seems be more important here than it is in the original story. I finally found my copy of VfV tonight, sandwiched between Harvey Kurtzman's Jungle Book and some issues of Taboo, so I may write more about the differences when I give it a careful rereading.
The casting is inspired. Natalie Portman and Stephen Rea are great. Hugo Weaving manages, with just his voice and body language, to invest V with the right amount of gravitas and theatricality. Face it, a flamboyant, Shakespeare-quoting vaudevillian in a cape and an expressionless Guy Fawkes mask is a pretty ridiculous thing, and takes some skill to make him seem serious, menacing, and sensitive all at the same time. Stephen Fry a perfect choice for his role - significantly changed from the book - and the Benny Hill like skit (complete with "Yakkety Sax"!) works amazingly well.