"Don't stop believing." That was "Sopranos" creator David Chase's farewell to fans Sunday night.
That, and five seconds of black as a probable hitman entered the men's room in the diner where Tony, Carmela, Meadow and A.J. ate what seemed to be their last meal. It was an idea borrowed from "The Godfather," of course, the famous scene in which Michael emerges from a bathroom with a gun to kill the police captain.
Some critics and a lot of fans apparently didn't like the ending. I only read this after watching the episode upon returning home from the Tony Awards. I'm a little surprised. The final episode of covered a lot of territory and wrapped up basically the loose ends of the show.
Did we need to see a blood bath in the diner? I don't think so. If you don't know what happened next, then it probably doesn't matter anyway.
But step back for a minute. The prior episode was supposed to have been the ending, and in it we saw the Dr. Melfi plot resolved. So that was done. In this episode, we saw Tony finally confront Uncle Junior. Resolved.
There was talk of the film business, just as there had been in the pilot. And if you didn't get that, then there was a black-and-white clip of the "The Twilight Zone" in which television pilots were discussed, as well as the value of writers.
I have no doubt that more clues can be dug up with a deeper look at the episode. A.J. and his girlfriend were listening to someone sing Bob Dylan's anti-war treatise "It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)" right before the SUV blew up. A.J. also quoted again from William Butler Yeats (calling him "Yeets").
Almost more interestingly, Tony visited A.J.'s therapist and started telling the story of his mother again as if he had never seen Dr. Melfi. Wasn't this the whole point Chase made with the research dug up by Melfi's friends? Here was Tony, using the story of his life once more clearly to gain sympathy. It's a loop; it's never going to end.
And still, Chase throws in the tour bus going through Little Italy with the guide explaining the demise of the area. The FBI agent following Tony also turns out be just like him, cheating on his wife with a female agent in a motel. When the agent hears that Phil Leotardo is dead, he exclaims gleefully, "We're going to win this one!" Preposterously, he's on Tony's side.
I think this may be Chase's way of showing how strange it is that the audience is with Tony, too. We have forgotten that he is a remorseless killer.
Is this the end? Yes. I doubt a "real" ending will appear on DVD, and a movie seems unlikely.
Did Paulie sell Tony out? Again, unlikely.
Was there closure? Phil Leotardo's brutal double death should be enough. He was crushed to death after being shot, bada bing.
That there was no scene of Tony acknowledging the death was indeed a mistake. But the ending, in black, seems appropriate. You know what happens next. I think David Chase knew it all along, from the beginning.
Tony Awards: Highs and Weird Lows
The 61st annual Tony Awards were a mixed bag from where I sat in Radio City Music Hall Sunday night and that was on the every edge of the orchestra section near where the seat fillers line up.
Some of the show was very entertaining, but a lot of it didn't make sense.
First off, the "Legally Blonde" controversy. The show was not nominated for best musical, but CBS wanted a number from it anyway. Star Laura Bell Bundy was immediately put to work in TV commercials for the Tony show.
But then producers of the four nominated shows complained, and the "Legally Blonde" number was cut. Bundy, who was nominated, wasn't even asked to be a presenter. And still, numbers from two shows from last season were got a chance: song from "The Color Purple" featuring Fantasia, and a whole segment that involved the stars of "Jersey Boys." Huh?
There was no host for the show, which made things a little confusing. The explanation is that the show "moves better" without one, but it also moves arbitrarily. The second of the three hours was particularly enervating, but that may be because producers and CBS knew most people were watching "The Sopranos."
Coincidentally, the "Jersey Boys" number kicked in at exactly 10:05, just as the other show ended. It was an almost seamless segue.
There were also not a lot of stars for the show. By the time of the after party, there was no sign of people like Ethan Hawke, Zach Braff or Billy Crudup. Ann Heche made a brief appearance; Fantasia was nowhere to be found. Many shows have their own parties following the Tony dinner at Rockefeller Center.
Only "Talk Radio" star Liev Schreiber and pregnant girlfriend Naomi Watts stuck around for a bit, as did "LoveMusic" star Donna Murphy, who carried her own plate of food. Others who fended for themselves included new Tony winner Jennifer Ehle and presenter Marcia Gay Harden, who couldn't find a seat near the buffet.
"Just sit anywhere," someone told her. "You're an Oscar winner."
And so she did.
Frank Langella of "Frost Nixon" gave the best speech of the night, but my favorite was Julie White, who won best actress for "The Little Dog Laughed." Her hilarious speech sounded as if it was going to conclude, incredulously, "I even beat Vanessa Redgrave!"
"I know," she said, when I mentioned this to her later. "Can you believe it?"
She crossed her eyes. A 46-year-old vet, she has no other awards and has toiled as a character actress for years. She was Grace's best friend in "Grace Under Fire," and has a recurring role on "Law & Order: SVU." This fall, she appears in the "Caveman" TV series on ABC. But that may all change now.
The little dog may not be the only one to get the last laugh.
source : http://www.foxnews.com
Monday, June 11, 2007
People in the News: Foot-in-mouth disease does Dr. Burke in
Dr. Preston Burke looks like a goner for good, now that creator Shonda Rhimes has given Isaiah Washington the boot from "Grey's Anatomy." The addictive med-sci soap set in Seattle recently wrapped its third season with an ending that left Washington's fate dangling.
Now we know his character has flat-lined, at least when it comes to employment at Seattle Grace.
Washington, who played the fiancé of Sandra Oh's Dr. Cristina Yang on the show, left Yang at the altar and cleared his possessions from their pad, leaving Oh sobbing hysterically.
ABC Television made it official that Washington will not rejoin the cast when they come back from hiatus. Washington's reaction to the rejection was something his character might have said upon being dissed for the role of chief of surgery: "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore."
He shouldn't sound so surprised; his ailment with ABC has been chronic this past season, with reports of an anti-gay slur against castmate T.R. Knight during an altercation with Dr. McDreamy, aka Patrick Dempsey, last fall. And then Washington put his foot in his mouth again backstage during January's Golden Globe Awards. He repeated his slur while trying to defend himself (bad, bad move), prompting another co-star, Katherine Heigl, to blast him in defense of her buddy (and on-screen love), Knight.
Unlike his skillful surgeon on the show, Washington flubbed and flopped through rehab, apologies and public service announcements trying to get back in the network's good graces. It looked as if the prognosis was good -- until the finale.
source : http://seattlepi.nwsource.com
Now we know his character has flat-lined, at least when it comes to employment at Seattle Grace.
Washington, who played the fiancé of Sandra Oh's Dr. Cristina Yang on the show, left Yang at the altar and cleared his possessions from their pad, leaving Oh sobbing hysterically.
ABC Television made it official that Washington will not rejoin the cast when they come back from hiatus. Washington's reaction to the rejection was something his character might have said upon being dissed for the role of chief of surgery: "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore."
He shouldn't sound so surprised; his ailment with ABC has been chronic this past season, with reports of an anti-gay slur against castmate T.R. Knight during an altercation with Dr. McDreamy, aka Patrick Dempsey, last fall. And then Washington put his foot in his mouth again backstage during January's Golden Globe Awards. He repeated his slur while trying to defend himself (bad, bad move), prompting another co-star, Katherine Heigl, to blast him in defense of her buddy (and on-screen love), Knight.
Unlike his skillful surgeon on the show, Washington flubbed and flopped through rehab, apologies and public service announcements trying to get back in the network's good graces. It looked as if the prognosis was good -- until the finale.
source : http://seattlepi.nwsource.com
'Spring' livens up an otherwise dignified night at the Tonys
outhful cheers for "Spring Awakening" rang out from the back of the Radio City Musical Hall on Sunday night, even before Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater’s fresh, sexy and musically revolutionary new Broadway show blew a gale through the 61st annual Tony Awards. The edgy production won a dominant eight Tonys at the ceremony, including the coveted best musical Tony.
"It’s all about the hopes we feel as parents, and the wounds we feel as children," said an emotional Sater, picking up a Tony and summing up his show. Those hopes are surely realized. And any wounds are likely to run with golden blood.
"Spring Awakening" — a contemporary, conceptual, rock-music take on Frank Wedekind’s 1893 play about the painful price paid by 19th Century kids when parents fail to teach them about the perils of adolescent sexual expression — once seemed like a high-risk project that needed a comically large number of producers to raise the funds. But after a stellar (and shrewdly edited) prime-time performance on the Tonys, which captured some of the show’s excitement, "Spring Awakening" now will surely morph into a major hit that could update the dominant sound of the Broadway musical for good.
But when the show's crowd of producers stood up to take the stage at the end of the Tonys, it looked like someone had shouted "Fire!" inside Radio City.
In recent years, awards have been widely dispersed. This year, though, there was little drama, with David Hyde Pierce’s victory as best actor in a musical for his work in "Curtains," qualifying as the biggest surprise. As widely predicted, "Spring Awakening" dominated the musical awards, although, also as expected, Christine Ebersole’s astonishing two-pronged turn as Edith Bouvier Beale and "Little Edie" Beale in "Grey Gardens" took the Tony for best performance by a leading actress in a musical.
On the play side, other new works mostly were unable to compete with the huge canvas and company of star actors enjoyed by Tom Stoppard’s "The Coast of Utopia," which garnered seven Tony Awards, including a best director nod for Jack O’Brien. Eloquent in acceptance, Frank Langella won the best actor in a play Tony for playing Richard M. Nixon in "Frost/Nixon."
This year’s presenter-less Tony broadcast was efficiently produced and dignified, but mostly as predictable as the appearance of Bernadette Peters. Precious little drama or spontaneity was in evidence. As is typical at the perennial insecure Tonys, much energy was expended reminding the viewing audience that many of their favorite TV and movie stars also work in theater. And this year’s theme — which had the likes of New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg, New York Yankees star Alex Rodriguez and restaurateur Wolfgang Puck reciting (or mangling) the tagline "There’s a little bit of Broadway in everyone" — was a reminder that the Tonys spend as much time pushing the Broadway brand as celebrating great work.
At least musical fans had Raul Esparza, whose nuanced-but-empowered rendition of Stephen Sondheim’s "Being Alive" from the Tony-winning "Company" was the performance highlight of the night, even though it was not enough to win him a Tony. TV viewers also had a thrilling taste of Ebersole’s remarkable performance.
Even though it was last year’s show, "Jersey Boys" got big play on the broadcast (far more, for example, than the current hit "Legally Blonde," which was confined to a B-roll segment). That will likely help ticket sales for "Jersey Boys’" upcoming Chicago run. And since the Alliance Theatre of Atlanta won the Tony for excellence in regional theater, that was enough of an excuse for replacement-cast member Fantasia to snag a prime, TV-friendly slot singing a number from "The Color Purple," which started in Atlanta.
In an uncharacteristic bit of irony, the American Theater Wing’s annual self-promotion segment was livened up by a "Phantom of the Opera"-style chandelier crashing down on the stiff dignitaries, whose speeches then were read instead by actors John Mahoney (of Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre Company) and Jane Krakowski. On TV, it appeared that Mahoney’s conclusionary bit of mild profanity had awakened a CBS censor asleep at the switch (or already tuned to HBO), but one couldn’t be sure. Later in the night, "Spring Awakening" got away with a whole lot more.
source : http://leisureblogs.chicagotribune.com
"It’s all about the hopes we feel as parents, and the wounds we feel as children," said an emotional Sater, picking up a Tony and summing up his show. Those hopes are surely realized. And any wounds are likely to run with golden blood.
"Spring Awakening" — a contemporary, conceptual, rock-music take on Frank Wedekind’s 1893 play about the painful price paid by 19th Century kids when parents fail to teach them about the perils of adolescent sexual expression — once seemed like a high-risk project that needed a comically large number of producers to raise the funds. But after a stellar (and shrewdly edited) prime-time performance on the Tonys, which captured some of the show’s excitement, "Spring Awakening" now will surely morph into a major hit that could update the dominant sound of the Broadway musical for good.
But when the show's crowd of producers stood up to take the stage at the end of the Tonys, it looked like someone had shouted "Fire!" inside Radio City.
In recent years, awards have been widely dispersed. This year, though, there was little drama, with David Hyde Pierce’s victory as best actor in a musical for his work in "Curtains," qualifying as the biggest surprise. As widely predicted, "Spring Awakening" dominated the musical awards, although, also as expected, Christine Ebersole’s astonishing two-pronged turn as Edith Bouvier Beale and "Little Edie" Beale in "Grey Gardens" took the Tony for best performance by a leading actress in a musical.
On the play side, other new works mostly were unable to compete with the huge canvas and company of star actors enjoyed by Tom Stoppard’s "The Coast of Utopia," which garnered seven Tony Awards, including a best director nod for Jack O’Brien. Eloquent in acceptance, Frank Langella won the best actor in a play Tony for playing Richard M. Nixon in "Frost/Nixon."
This year’s presenter-less Tony broadcast was efficiently produced and dignified, but mostly as predictable as the appearance of Bernadette Peters. Precious little drama or spontaneity was in evidence. As is typical at the perennial insecure Tonys, much energy was expended reminding the viewing audience that many of their favorite TV and movie stars also work in theater. And this year’s theme — which had the likes of New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg, New York Yankees star Alex Rodriguez and restaurateur Wolfgang Puck reciting (or mangling) the tagline "There’s a little bit of Broadway in everyone" — was a reminder that the Tonys spend as much time pushing the Broadway brand as celebrating great work.
At least musical fans had Raul Esparza, whose nuanced-but-empowered rendition of Stephen Sondheim’s "Being Alive" from the Tony-winning "Company" was the performance highlight of the night, even though it was not enough to win him a Tony. TV viewers also had a thrilling taste of Ebersole’s remarkable performance.
Even though it was last year’s show, "Jersey Boys" got big play on the broadcast (far more, for example, than the current hit "Legally Blonde," which was confined to a B-roll segment). That will likely help ticket sales for "Jersey Boys’" upcoming Chicago run. And since the Alliance Theatre of Atlanta won the Tony for excellence in regional theater, that was enough of an excuse for replacement-cast member Fantasia to snag a prime, TV-friendly slot singing a number from "The Color Purple," which started in Atlanta.
In an uncharacteristic bit of irony, the American Theater Wing’s annual self-promotion segment was livened up by a "Phantom of the Opera"-style chandelier crashing down on the stiff dignitaries, whose speeches then were read instead by actors John Mahoney (of Chicago’s Steppenwolf Theatre Company) and Jane Krakowski. On TV, it appeared that Mahoney’s conclusionary bit of mild profanity had awakened a CBS censor asleep at the switch (or already tuned to HBO), but one couldn’t be sure. Later in the night, "Spring Awakening" got away with a whole lot more.
source : http://leisureblogs.chicagotribune.com
Rexam deal wraps up US market
Rexam, the world's largest can maker, has bought the plastic packaging business of Owens-Illinois in the US for $1.83bn.
The company wants to tap into the rapidly growing market for packaging medicines. The US market, currently worth $4bn (£2.03bn), is growing by 7% a year as the population ages and people become more health-conscious.
The acquisition will make Rexam the leading plastic packaging manufacturer in the American healthcare market. It also catapults the British company into the number one spot in the US for plastic closures, which are used for fizzy drinks, water and food.
Chief executive Leslie Van de Walle said: "The acquisition of O-I Plastics will transform our plastic packaging business and is consistent with our strategy to expand our positions in growth markets."
More than 90% of O-I Plastics' sales and profits are generated in the US.
Rexam shares dropped by more than 3% to 495p this morning. The company plans to fund the deal with the placing of 58.35m new shares, equivalent to 10% of its existing share capital, as well as a bond issue and the proceeds of the recent sale of its glass business.
Nick Spoliar at Bridgewell described the deal as a "bold move for Rexam and shows their ambitions to be a global player in rigid plastics as they are in cans".
source : http://business.guardian.co.uk
The company wants to tap into the rapidly growing market for packaging medicines. The US market, currently worth $4bn (£2.03bn), is growing by 7% a year as the population ages and people become more health-conscious.
The acquisition will make Rexam the leading plastic packaging manufacturer in the American healthcare market. It also catapults the British company into the number one spot in the US for plastic closures, which are used for fizzy drinks, water and food.
Chief executive Leslie Van de Walle said: "The acquisition of O-I Plastics will transform our plastic packaging business and is consistent with our strategy to expand our positions in growth markets."
More than 90% of O-I Plastics' sales and profits are generated in the US.
Rexam shares dropped by more than 3% to 495p this morning. The company plans to fund the deal with the placing of 58.35m new shares, equivalent to 10% of its existing share capital, as well as a bond issue and the proceeds of the recent sale of its glass business.
Nick Spoliar at Bridgewell described the deal as a "bold move for Rexam and shows their ambitions to be a global player in rigid plastics as they are in cans".
source : http://business.guardian.co.uk
Queens of the Stone Age
Not that Josh Homme is looking down his nose at anyone specific on Era Vulgaris. If anything, the gargantuan frontman for Queens of the Stone Age is just holding up a mirror to our culture. And like a mirror, his lyrics reflect what he sees -- a sick, sad, stupid, sleazy society in which bitterness is fashionable, selling out is a career goal and fake is the new reality.
If that's the downside of Homme's current reality, here's the up: Unlike our world, the singer-guitarist's songcraft and sound are becoming increasingly sophisticated. This fifth full-length from the California desert-rat stoner-rocker and his latest loose-knit band of Queens blatantly flirts with funkier grooves, trippier psychedelics and noisier textures -- without sacrificing the muscular aggression and laser-focused intensity that are his signature. It might not have an instant classic like R's Feel Good Hit of the Summer. But with 11 bump-and-grind rockers shoehorned into 47 lean, mean minutes, it packs more than enough heat -- and more than enough of Homme's disturbingly soulful falsetto vocals -- to make it the hit of your summer.
Which is to say: Even for Homme and QOTSA, it's uncommonly good.
Here's the dirt:
Turning on the Screw 5:20
The Gregorian choir and horror synths hint at human sacrifice. But the lockstep groove, polyrhythmic guitar funk and wah-wah freakout solo are the real killers on this cut -- which fittingly winds up, around and back on itself like a snake coiling its prey.
Sick, Sick, Sick 3:34
"Young, dumb, don't see a problem," the lyrics brag. Neither do we, thanks to the blistering blast of noise-punk discord and the pumping industrial beat that go with. Listen for Julian from The Strokes on backing vocals.
I'm Designer 4:04
Fuzzy stabbing guitars duel on either side of the mix. A nimble bass bounces up the middle. Josh sneers at a generation for sale -- then softens a bit for the woolly chorus and bridge.
In the Hollow 3:32
Plinky tones, sighing slide guitars and Homme's dreamy vocals swirl above a punchy midtempo gait and another strong bassline. Dedicated fans may recall this from Homme's 5:15ers project.
Misfit Love 5:39
The band sets an ominous mood with 90 seconds of thumpy tom-toms and nagging, scritchy guitars. When Homme's vocals arrive fashionably late -- and announce, "I'm so goddamn sick, baby, it's a sin" -- the party really gets started. Hope you brought protection.
Battery Acid 4:06
Like some ancient machine coming to life, this noisy behemoth lurches forward to the sound of a sawtooth guitar, a relentlessly hammering drum pattern and a clanging bell -- only to shift into a jangly Beatle-pop bridge.
Make it Wit Chu 4:50
Fire up the lava lamp and burn the incense, baby. Homme plays mack daddy on a seductive soul-pop groover decorated with bluesy guitar and piano. Another recycled cut, this has appeared on a Desert Sessions disc and last year's live set.
3's & 7's 3:34
The lyrics are about bluffing poker faces. But the choppy guitars, offbeat alt-rock and Beefhearty slide licks add up to a winning hand -- in an Urge Overkill-circa-Saturation kinda way.
Suture up Your Future 4:37
With its walking bassline, ringing electric piano and slashing guitar accents, this shadowy slow-burner is as close as the disc gets to a full-on power ballad.
River in the Road 3:19
Sometime Queen Mark Lanegan drops in to lend vocals to this clattery, spindly robo-rocker. The siren wailing deep in the background had us turning down the stereo and looking for the fire.
Run, Pig, Run 4:48
Grinding 16-note power chords. A bashing, primal beat. Massive reverb, noisy tones and proggy arpeggios. So aggressive it could almost be speed metal -- but for Homme's woozy moaning.
source : www.edmontonsun.com
If that's the downside of Homme's current reality, here's the up: Unlike our world, the singer-guitarist's songcraft and sound are becoming increasingly sophisticated. This fifth full-length from the California desert-rat stoner-rocker and his latest loose-knit band of Queens blatantly flirts with funkier grooves, trippier psychedelics and noisier textures -- without sacrificing the muscular aggression and laser-focused intensity that are his signature. It might not have an instant classic like R's Feel Good Hit of the Summer. But with 11 bump-and-grind rockers shoehorned into 47 lean, mean minutes, it packs more than enough heat -- and more than enough of Homme's disturbingly soulful falsetto vocals -- to make it the hit of your summer.
Which is to say: Even for Homme and QOTSA, it's uncommonly good.
Here's the dirt:
Turning on the Screw 5:20
The Gregorian choir and horror synths hint at human sacrifice. But the lockstep groove, polyrhythmic guitar funk and wah-wah freakout solo are the real killers on this cut -- which fittingly winds up, around and back on itself like a snake coiling its prey.
Sick, Sick, Sick 3:34
"Young, dumb, don't see a problem," the lyrics brag. Neither do we, thanks to the blistering blast of noise-punk discord and the pumping industrial beat that go with. Listen for Julian from The Strokes on backing vocals.
I'm Designer 4:04
Fuzzy stabbing guitars duel on either side of the mix. A nimble bass bounces up the middle. Josh sneers at a generation for sale -- then softens a bit for the woolly chorus and bridge.
In the Hollow 3:32
Plinky tones, sighing slide guitars and Homme's dreamy vocals swirl above a punchy midtempo gait and another strong bassline. Dedicated fans may recall this from Homme's 5:15ers project.
Misfit Love 5:39
The band sets an ominous mood with 90 seconds of thumpy tom-toms and nagging, scritchy guitars. When Homme's vocals arrive fashionably late -- and announce, "I'm so goddamn sick, baby, it's a sin" -- the party really gets started. Hope you brought protection.
Battery Acid 4:06
Like some ancient machine coming to life, this noisy behemoth lurches forward to the sound of a sawtooth guitar, a relentlessly hammering drum pattern and a clanging bell -- only to shift into a jangly Beatle-pop bridge.
Make it Wit Chu 4:50
Fire up the lava lamp and burn the incense, baby. Homme plays mack daddy on a seductive soul-pop groover decorated with bluesy guitar and piano. Another recycled cut, this has appeared on a Desert Sessions disc and last year's live set.
3's & 7's 3:34
The lyrics are about bluffing poker faces. But the choppy guitars, offbeat alt-rock and Beefhearty slide licks add up to a winning hand -- in an Urge Overkill-circa-Saturation kinda way.
Suture up Your Future 4:37
With its walking bassline, ringing electric piano and slashing guitar accents, this shadowy slow-burner is as close as the disc gets to a full-on power ballad.
River in the Road 3:19
Sometime Queen Mark Lanegan drops in to lend vocals to this clattery, spindly robo-rocker. The siren wailing deep in the background had us turning down the stereo and looking for the fire.
Run, Pig, Run 4:48
Grinding 16-note power chords. A bashing, primal beat. Massive reverb, noisy tones and proggy arpeggios. So aggressive it could almost be speed metal -- but for Homme's woozy moaning.
source : www.edmontonsun.com
New in Town, Talking Funny
THE blessing of being a comedian from New Zealand is that your accent will make anything you say sound a little bit funny to American ears, whether you intend it or not. The curse is that your naturally laid-back attitude and innate stoicism will cause some people — say, television executives — to doubt your commitment to your art, and others to question your career choice altogether.
“People are always surprised to hear that I’m a comedian,” said Jemaine Clement, a shaggy, low-key New Zealander with ample sideburns and a pair of Elvis Costello glasses, who is one-half of the musical comedy duo Flight of the Conchords. “Like, people will say: ‘But you’re not funny. You don’t even talk.’ ”
Over a recent lunch at a Thai restaurant in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, Mr. Clement and his performing partner, Bret McKenzie, affirmed that they were perhaps not the best representatives of how their countrymen really behave.
“Jemaine and I are both particularly understated,” said Mr. McKenzie, 30, a shaggier, lower-key Wellington native with a beard. “When we’re hanging out with other New Zealanders, we’re still two of the quieter ones.”
Mr. Clement, 33, who grew up near Wellington in the town of Masterton, said: “Sometimes people think we aren’t interested in things when we are. It’s just that we don’t express it. There’s a very different energy level between the average New Zealander and the average American.”
That hasn’t discouraged HBO from giving Mr. McKenzie and Mr. Clement their own half-hour comedy series. Titled “Flight of the Conchords” and making its debut on June 17, the show follows the adventures of two New Zealanders named Bret and Jemaine, recently relocated to downtown New York, who play in a band called Flight of the Conchords, endure mundane indignities, compete over women and sometimes break into song.
If the autobiographical premise itself seems vaguely modest and unambitious — especially in an era when scripted television comedy has become more precious than petroleum — that’s sort of the point of the show.
“Whatever this aspires to do, it does, and I know I’m making absolutely no sense,” said Stu Smiley, an executive producer on “Flight of the Conchords” and an industry veteran whose development and production credits range from “Kids in the Hall” to “Everybody Loves Raymond.” “It doesn’t feel like it aspires to be anything, and that’s what makes it so funny and so honest.”
Beneath their relaxed demeanors, Mr. Clement and Mr. McKenzie are both motivated, determined performers. In the mid-1990s, while they were still students at Victoria University of Wellington, they were already touring New Zealand and Australia with a five-member comedy act called “So You’re a Man.” At a time when their island nation was still largely served by just three television channels, and homegrown production was scarce, they found their comedic influences in offbeat British and American imports like “Blackadder” and “It’s Garry Shandling’s Show.”
But when they set their sights on goals beyond the Southern Hemisphere, the two were discouraged in their pursuits. “It’s tall-poppy syndrome,” said Taika Waititi, a film director who performed with Mr. Clement and Mr. McKenzie in “So You’re a Man.” “If there’s a poppy taller than all the others, the other poppies want to cut it down. You experience that quite a lot in New Zealand, and it affects our art. That’s why our movies are so dark, and there’s always people dying in them.”
After rotating through comedy troupes with names like the Humourbeasts, Mr. McKenzie and Mr. Clement began performing under the name Flight of the Conchords, playing slyly satirical songs (often about their affections for the opposite sex) on acoustic guitars and bantering awkwardly between numbers. And though they ironically billed themselves as a folk duo, their music paid more obvious homage to the eclectic funk and rock artists they had grown up listening to, including James Brown, Prince, Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen.
“It was always going to be a strange band,” said Mr. McKenzie, who originally envisioned an act resembling experimental musicians like Beck and Ween. “It might have been a very different story if we ended up playing rock venues. We just ended up playing comedy clubs.”
In 2002 the Conchords played their first Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and they returned there twice more to increasing interest from the American and British comedy industries. “After three years,” Mr. McKenzie said, “we achieved what would normally take people four years.” (Mr. Clement added triumphantly, “We bypassed a year.”)
Though they were approached by American networks, including NBC and Fox, no one offered them a series (perhaps because they were too naïve about the television industry to know how much was at stake in these meetings). But after performing at the U.S. Comedy Arts Festival in Aspen in 2005, the Conchords came to the attention of HBO, which was looking to develop more low-cost comedy pilots around relatively unknown talents, in the vein of such limber 1990s series as “Tenacious D” and “Mr. Show With Bob and David.”
source :www.nytimes.com
“People are always surprised to hear that I’m a comedian,” said Jemaine Clement, a shaggy, low-key New Zealander with ample sideburns and a pair of Elvis Costello glasses, who is one-half of the musical comedy duo Flight of the Conchords. “Like, people will say: ‘But you’re not funny. You don’t even talk.’ ”
Over a recent lunch at a Thai restaurant in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, Mr. Clement and his performing partner, Bret McKenzie, affirmed that they were perhaps not the best representatives of how their countrymen really behave.
“Jemaine and I are both particularly understated,” said Mr. McKenzie, 30, a shaggier, lower-key Wellington native with a beard. “When we’re hanging out with other New Zealanders, we’re still two of the quieter ones.”
Mr. Clement, 33, who grew up near Wellington in the town of Masterton, said: “Sometimes people think we aren’t interested in things when we are. It’s just that we don’t express it. There’s a very different energy level between the average New Zealander and the average American.”
That hasn’t discouraged HBO from giving Mr. McKenzie and Mr. Clement their own half-hour comedy series. Titled “Flight of the Conchords” and making its debut on June 17, the show follows the adventures of two New Zealanders named Bret and Jemaine, recently relocated to downtown New York, who play in a band called Flight of the Conchords, endure mundane indignities, compete over women and sometimes break into song.
If the autobiographical premise itself seems vaguely modest and unambitious — especially in an era when scripted television comedy has become more precious than petroleum — that’s sort of the point of the show.
“Whatever this aspires to do, it does, and I know I’m making absolutely no sense,” said Stu Smiley, an executive producer on “Flight of the Conchords” and an industry veteran whose development and production credits range from “Kids in the Hall” to “Everybody Loves Raymond.” “It doesn’t feel like it aspires to be anything, and that’s what makes it so funny and so honest.”
Beneath their relaxed demeanors, Mr. Clement and Mr. McKenzie are both motivated, determined performers. In the mid-1990s, while they were still students at Victoria University of Wellington, they were already touring New Zealand and Australia with a five-member comedy act called “So You’re a Man.” At a time when their island nation was still largely served by just three television channels, and homegrown production was scarce, they found their comedic influences in offbeat British and American imports like “Blackadder” and “It’s Garry Shandling’s Show.”
But when they set their sights on goals beyond the Southern Hemisphere, the two were discouraged in their pursuits. “It’s tall-poppy syndrome,” said Taika Waititi, a film director who performed with Mr. Clement and Mr. McKenzie in “So You’re a Man.” “If there’s a poppy taller than all the others, the other poppies want to cut it down. You experience that quite a lot in New Zealand, and it affects our art. That’s why our movies are so dark, and there’s always people dying in them.”
After rotating through comedy troupes with names like the Humourbeasts, Mr. McKenzie and Mr. Clement began performing under the name Flight of the Conchords, playing slyly satirical songs (often about their affections for the opposite sex) on acoustic guitars and bantering awkwardly between numbers. And though they ironically billed themselves as a folk duo, their music paid more obvious homage to the eclectic funk and rock artists they had grown up listening to, including James Brown, Prince, Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen.
“It was always going to be a strange band,” said Mr. McKenzie, who originally envisioned an act resembling experimental musicians like Beck and Ween. “It might have been a very different story if we ended up playing rock venues. We just ended up playing comedy clubs.”
In 2002 the Conchords played their first Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and they returned there twice more to increasing interest from the American and British comedy industries. “After three years,” Mr. McKenzie said, “we achieved what would normally take people four years.” (Mr. Clement added triumphantly, “We bypassed a year.”)
Though they were approached by American networks, including NBC and Fox, no one offered them a series (perhaps because they were too naïve about the television industry to know how much was at stake in these meetings). But after performing at the U.S. Comedy Arts Festival in Aspen in 2005, the Conchords came to the attention of HBO, which was looking to develop more low-cost comedy pilots around relatively unknown talents, in the vein of such limber 1990s series as “Tenacious D” and “Mr. Show With Bob and David.”
source :www.nytimes.com
Strands May Be Delicate, but They’re All Connected
In Michael Ondaatje’s “Divisadero” an illuminating exchange takes place between Lucien Segura, who will go on to become a famously mysterious French writer, and Marie-Neige, the young bride of a brutal older man. Lucien and Marie-Neige have been “like two flammable matches side by side in a tinderbox.” But their attraction, like many of the undercurrents in this turbulent, wandering novel, is one of many strong passions that can only indirectly be expressed.
Lucien has just been partially blinded by glass shards. Glass shards are among the recurring motifs here, and blindness exists among Mr. Ondaatje’s characters in many metaphorical forms. And so, since he and Marie-Neige love the same Dumas stories and happen to be living in Gascony, the homeland of Dumas’s D’Artagnan, she begins reading “The Three Musketeers” to Lucien aloud. When he Marie-Neige a question about the book’s first chapter, she is confused: Should she go back and read it again? “No, just go on,” Lucien tells her. “Not knowing something essential makes you more involved.”
“Divisadero” is a dramatic illustration of how Mr. Ondaatje follows that same precept. It is a book that improves on second reading because it is so willfully elliptical at first. Among the essential things the reader cannot know, for instance, is what bearing the first half of the book has on the second, since they seem to be almost totally unrelated. Yet it turns out that there are many parallels, echoes, resonances, impulses, chirps (the book is ever-attentive to symbolic import of bird life) and creative curlicues that will present themselves to the patient admirer of Mr. Ondaatje’s work.
Speaking of patient: This author’s best books, of which “The English Patient” is the most prominent, all rely on such methods to a certain degree. Mr. Ondaatje does not write in mundanely linear ways, nor does he see events as isolated instances. There are always webs of memory, slips of time and divisions in experience to break the spell of an ordinary world. But “Divisadero,” with a title that denotes distance, division and a street in San Francisco, is a more stubbornly eclectic Ondaatje book than most.
In what follows, numbers indicate elements of the book that will repeat themselves. The novel begins in California, in a rural paradise (1), among family members whose relations are more acts of will than accidents of birth (2). (Numbered elements of the book are those that will repeat themselves.) Claire and Anna were born at the same hospital and have been raised as twins, although they had different mothers. Their father is a tough, overbearing man (3), which is made monstrously clear after Anna develops a passionate, unstoppable attraction (4) to Coop, the family’s young hired man. Coop has also been made part of this family, but that counts for nothing when the girls’ father catches him with Anna. A violent attack involving a shard of glass (5) destroys this family’s life forever.
This explosion, Anna thinks later, was “in retrospect something very small, something that might occur within just a square inch or two of a Breughel, but it set fire to the rest of my life.” It made Anna leave the farm and permanently lose touch with Coop and Claire. Claire spends much of her time on horseback (6), while Coop goes to Nevada and creates a whole new life as a gambler. “Divisadero” has a highly literary sensibility (7), to the point where Coop is tricked into slipping up at a card game by talk of Tolstoy.
Distant war (8) ominously colors the periphery of the story. Coop’s gambling career is at its peak when the first gulf war begins, although it barely registers in the casinos of Nevada. “For the three thousand gamblers inhaling piped-in oxygen at the Horseshoe, the war is already a video game, taking place on a fictional planet,” Mr. Ondaatje writes. Wars from medieval times to World War II rumble ominously from the fringes of the narrative.
Coop’s dealings with cards and women eventually destroy him, but not before he has re-encountered Claire, stirred her old memories and deeply hurt her by confusing her with Anna. All of this has been intercut with other facets of the story, to the point where it might be expected to continue. But then it disappears. And we are with Anna in France, where she finds meaning in her own life by plumbing the history of Lucien, now a famous dead literary figure. If this is arguably the most noxious conceit overworked in today’s fiction, trust Mr. Ondaatje at least to express it exquisitely. Taking up residence in Lucien’s house, Anna tells herself: “The manoir had once been the writer’s home, and she found herself in some modest contrapuntal dance with him.” Modest? Hardly. It is contrapuntal in the extreme.
Since Mr. Ondaatje writes with such grace, he brings a haunting, sensual delicacy to this latter part of “Divisadero.” Events between Anna and Raphael, who is more or less Lucien’s adopted son and has a fine, rustic way of keeping fragrant herbs in his pocket in case a loaf of bread comes along, wind up highly attuned to what happened between Lucien and Marie-Neige in the same setting. The water tower (9) that Coop once repaired morphs into a belfry repaired by Marie-Neige’s husband. The Sanskrit concept of gotraskhalana which has to do with calling a loved one by the wrong name, is everywhere within these goings on, and those who are not linked to the lives of others are linked to many different versions of themselves. Anna looks at birds (10) and knows that her secretive nature has created a flock of Annas within herself.
A more accurate synopsis of “Divisadero” would include the many loose ends and secondary developments that create an initial opacity. This underbrush is so dense that it takes work to cut through it and Mr. Ondaatje’s overview. But he is a writer of intense acuity. His eminence is well earned. This book is initially difficult, but the more you give “Divisadero,” the more it gives in return.
source : www.nytimes.com
Lucien has just been partially blinded by glass shards. Glass shards are among the recurring motifs here, and blindness exists among Mr. Ondaatje’s characters in many metaphorical forms. And so, since he and Marie-Neige love the same Dumas stories and happen to be living in Gascony, the homeland of Dumas’s D’Artagnan, she begins reading “The Three Musketeers” to Lucien aloud. When he Marie-Neige a question about the book’s first chapter, she is confused: Should she go back and read it again? “No, just go on,” Lucien tells her. “Not knowing something essential makes you more involved.”
“Divisadero” is a dramatic illustration of how Mr. Ondaatje follows that same precept. It is a book that improves on second reading because it is so willfully elliptical at first. Among the essential things the reader cannot know, for instance, is what bearing the first half of the book has on the second, since they seem to be almost totally unrelated. Yet it turns out that there are many parallels, echoes, resonances, impulses, chirps (the book is ever-attentive to symbolic import of bird life) and creative curlicues that will present themselves to the patient admirer of Mr. Ondaatje’s work.
Speaking of patient: This author’s best books, of which “The English Patient” is the most prominent, all rely on such methods to a certain degree. Mr. Ondaatje does not write in mundanely linear ways, nor does he see events as isolated instances. There are always webs of memory, slips of time and divisions in experience to break the spell of an ordinary world. But “Divisadero,” with a title that denotes distance, division and a street in San Francisco, is a more stubbornly eclectic Ondaatje book than most.
In what follows, numbers indicate elements of the book that will repeat themselves. The novel begins in California, in a rural paradise (1), among family members whose relations are more acts of will than accidents of birth (2). (Numbered elements of the book are those that will repeat themselves.) Claire and Anna were born at the same hospital and have been raised as twins, although they had different mothers. Their father is a tough, overbearing man (3), which is made monstrously clear after Anna develops a passionate, unstoppable attraction (4) to Coop, the family’s young hired man. Coop has also been made part of this family, but that counts for nothing when the girls’ father catches him with Anna. A violent attack involving a shard of glass (5) destroys this family’s life forever.
This explosion, Anna thinks later, was “in retrospect something very small, something that might occur within just a square inch or two of a Breughel, but it set fire to the rest of my life.” It made Anna leave the farm and permanently lose touch with Coop and Claire. Claire spends much of her time on horseback (6), while Coop goes to Nevada and creates a whole new life as a gambler. “Divisadero” has a highly literary sensibility (7), to the point where Coop is tricked into slipping up at a card game by talk of Tolstoy.
Distant war (8) ominously colors the periphery of the story. Coop’s gambling career is at its peak when the first gulf war begins, although it barely registers in the casinos of Nevada. “For the three thousand gamblers inhaling piped-in oxygen at the Horseshoe, the war is already a video game, taking place on a fictional planet,” Mr. Ondaatje writes. Wars from medieval times to World War II rumble ominously from the fringes of the narrative.
Coop’s dealings with cards and women eventually destroy him, but not before he has re-encountered Claire, stirred her old memories and deeply hurt her by confusing her with Anna. All of this has been intercut with other facets of the story, to the point where it might be expected to continue. But then it disappears. And we are with Anna in France, where she finds meaning in her own life by plumbing the history of Lucien, now a famous dead literary figure. If this is arguably the most noxious conceit overworked in today’s fiction, trust Mr. Ondaatje at least to express it exquisitely. Taking up residence in Lucien’s house, Anna tells herself: “The manoir had once been the writer’s home, and she found herself in some modest contrapuntal dance with him.” Modest? Hardly. It is contrapuntal in the extreme.
Since Mr. Ondaatje writes with such grace, he brings a haunting, sensual delicacy to this latter part of “Divisadero.” Events between Anna and Raphael, who is more or less Lucien’s adopted son and has a fine, rustic way of keeping fragrant herbs in his pocket in case a loaf of bread comes along, wind up highly attuned to what happened between Lucien and Marie-Neige in the same setting. The water tower (9) that Coop once repaired morphs into a belfry repaired by Marie-Neige’s husband. The Sanskrit concept of gotraskhalana which has to do with calling a loved one by the wrong name, is everywhere within these goings on, and those who are not linked to the lives of others are linked to many different versions of themselves. Anna looks at birds (10) and knows that her secretive nature has created a flock of Annas within herself.
A more accurate synopsis of “Divisadero” would include the many loose ends and secondary developments that create an initial opacity. This underbrush is so dense that it takes work to cut through it and Mr. Ondaatje’s overview. But he is a writer of intense acuity. His eminence is well earned. This book is initially difficult, but the more you give “Divisadero,” the more it gives in return.
source : www.nytimes.com
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