Here are the answers to my little quiz on renaming the episodes of 24:
Monday, March 29, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Renaming TV Episodes
It occured to me the other day that the episode names of the TV show 24 are awfully dull. What if we were to rename the episodes, using the naming conventions of other shows as a guide? So here's a little quiz:
The first list gives the titles of the first 13 episodes in this year's season of 24. The second list is an alphabetic list of new, improved episode titles. The third list, again alphabetic, gives the names of the TV shows whose naming conventions were used. (To keep things from being super-easy, I've only given the first letter or two of the TV show names.) Match 'em all up, and complete the show names in list three.
1. 4:00pm-5:00pm
2. 5:00pm-6:00pm
3. 6:00pm-7:00pm
4. 7:00pm-8:00pm
5. 8:00pm-9:00pm
6. 9:00pm-10:00pm
7. 10:00pm-11:00pm
8. 11:00pm-12:00am
9. 12:00am-1:00am
10. 1:00am-2:00am
11. 2:00am-3:00am
12. 3:00am-4:00am
13. 4:00am-5:00am
A. Aided a Burglary
B. Bazhaev's
C. Everybody Hates Journalists
D. The Gang Gets in a Shootout
E. Jack's Crazy Girlfriend
F. Liaison Exposed
G. A Little Night Murder
H. Mr. Bauer and the Hurt Locker
I. My Media Leak
J. The One Where Renee Takes a Shower
K. Victor Aruz
L. What About Kevin ...
M. Why Not to Date Your Security Chief
i. C--
ii. Em--
iii. Ev--
iv. F--
v. G--
vi. I--
vii. K--
viii. The L--
ix. Mo--
x. My--
xi. N--
xii. S--
xiii. W--
Answers are here.
The first list gives the titles of the first 13 episodes in this year's season of 24. The second list is an alphabetic list of new, improved episode titles. The third list, again alphabetic, gives the names of the TV shows whose naming conventions were used. (To keep things from being super-easy, I've only given the first letter or two of the TV show names.) Match 'em all up, and complete the show names in list three.
1. 4:00pm-5:00pm
2. 5:00pm-6:00pm
3. 6:00pm-7:00pm
4. 7:00pm-8:00pm
5. 8:00pm-9:00pm
6. 9:00pm-10:00pm
7. 10:00pm-11:00pm
8. 11:00pm-12:00am
9. 12:00am-1:00am
10. 1:00am-2:00am
11. 2:00am-3:00am
12. 3:00am-4:00am
13. 4:00am-5:00am
A. Aided a Burglary
B. Bazhaev's
C. Everybody Hates Journalists
D. The Gang Gets in a Shootout
E. Jack's Crazy Girlfriend
F. Liaison Exposed
G. A Little Night Murder
H. Mr. Bauer and the Hurt Locker
I. My Media Leak
J. The One Where Renee Takes a Shower
K. Victor Aruz
L. What About Kevin ...
M. Why Not to Date Your Security Chief
i. C--
ii. Em--
iii. Ev--
iv. F--
v. G--
vi. I--
vii. K--
viii. The L--
ix. Mo--
x. My--
xi. N--
xii. S--
xiii. W--
Answers are here.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Weekend movies
So this weekend I watched three movies – two on DVD and one streaming.
The Earrings of Madame de … was a great pleasure. A film student or even just a bright viewer could write an essay on any of a number of topics.
For instance, there's the role of fate. To pay off debts from her extravagant spending, Madame de … sells the earrings her husband gave her as a wedding present. Through an unlikely chain of events, these earrings make their way back into her possession. Another set of coincidences brings her to a new lover, with dreadful results. (She even remarks at one point that fate will keep them in touch with one another.) These are the sort of events that melodramas rely upon, but in this story they pile up and make the tragedy feel inevitable.
There's also the significance of class. The main characters of Earrings are from the upper classes, but Max Ophuls allows a few moments to peripheral characters – the ushers at the opera, or the soldiers at their post. If nothing else, these “relatable” characters put the drama in the context of the wider world.
One could also look at the humor in this film. Two examples I've just mentioned: the usher who tires of opening the door to a private box, and the soldier who complains of beans constantly on the menu. One of my favorite jokes is about the name of Madame de …. (Frequently in this sort of fiction the last name is not given.) At one point a character starts to speak her name, only to be interrupted by a cut in the film. On a place card at a banquet, her last name is obscured by a napkin; and a commemorative plaque at the end of the film is framed so that her last name is off-camera.
Then there's the camera work itself. Good lord, Ophuls loves his tracking shots; the dolly work is astonishing. (I hope the dolly grips received some sort of French national award for the wonderful jobs they did.) One could assemble a seminar on the use of camera – perhaps an entire course – from this film, along with Love Me Tonight and Grand Illusion. (Admittedly, there are a gazillion other examples, but these are especially good ones, I think.)
The title of the movie could even be used as a launching point for an essay on titles in translation. The French title was simply Madame de …, but I think “Earrings” was an apt addition to the English title; the earrings constituted a near-fetish object in this story. I try to be practical in my attitude toward English-language titles. If The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser draws viewers in to a film, wonderful! After they've seen the film, let them chew on the more literal translation (from the German): Every Man for Himself and God Against All. Meanwhile, I am grateful I don't have to associate with pedants who insist on Bicycle Thieves as the only correct English translation of the title of a certain Italian film.
And I haven't even mentioned the acting! Charles Boyer, Danielle Darrieux, and Vittorio De Sica (who later directed The Bicycle Thief, among other features) are all stellar.
Yes, essays could be written on all these things. But no one is paying me (or assigning me) to do this, and I am much too lazy to do so on my own.
A final note on the Criterion DVD: There are informative interviews included, but I especially recommend the commentary by two bright, insightful scholars, Susan White and Gaylyn Studlar.
* * *
Gran Torino was disappointing, but perhaps not surprising. It reminded me of Million Dollar Baby (another disappointment).
For many films, I can endure a bad or puzzling ending, if the main part of the film stands on its own. I don't quite understand the ending of No Country for Old Men, but that doesn't take (much) away from what preceded it; and while I was perfectly happy with the ending of There Will Be Blood, there were a few who say it ruined the film for them. To me these endings don't matter; the films had already established their greatness.
But in the two Clint Eastwood films mentioned, the endings seemed to be the main purpose of the narrative. They say, “Here is the lesson, folks,” followed by some bit of phogna bologna I can't take. In Baby, the main character can't tolerate her disability, and the Eastwood character is honor-bound to fulfill her wishes. In Gran Torino, Eastwood must make a grand redemptive sacrifice. I understand that the pre-conditions have been set forth: He has committed wartime sins that he cannot confess to an inept priest; the state of his health (kept to himself, of course) minimizes and even rationalizes his sacrifice. But I don't buy the I-am-Jesus self-aggrandization. (I say this as someone who has avoided, on the advice of counsel, such self-regarding, self-sacrificial works as The Life of David Gale and Seven Pounds.)
There are things to enjoy in Gran Torino. I got a kick out of Eastwood saying (essentially), “Hey, I can do impressions! Here's my Dirty Harry.” The sight of Eastwood riffing on his old personae (including his nameless Western antihero) was a lot of fun. And I enjoyed the performances by Eastwood and his “Hmong” co-stars (Bee Vang and Ahney Her). But in the end I didn't buy the Grand Lesson To Be Learned.
* * *
Finally this weekend, I streamed Flame & Citron from Netflix. I started off thinking this is a bit slow, but in the end I lovedlovedloved the movie. I posted some brief notes in my blog Second-Chance Cinema, and I haven't much to add here. The ten million dollars spent on the film is a large amount for Danish cinema, though it pales compared to some Hollywood extravaganzas. I am proud of the filmmakers for depicting some moral ambiguity in the Danish Resistance (which depiction has apparently cost them some domestic support) in a thoroughly absorbing and entertaining film.
The Earrings of Madame de … was a great pleasure. A film student or even just a bright viewer could write an essay on any of a number of topics.
For instance, there's the role of fate. To pay off debts from her extravagant spending, Madame de … sells the earrings her husband gave her as a wedding present. Through an unlikely chain of events, these earrings make their way back into her possession. Another set of coincidences brings her to a new lover, with dreadful results. (She even remarks at one point that fate will keep them in touch with one another.) These are the sort of events that melodramas rely upon, but in this story they pile up and make the tragedy feel inevitable.
There's also the significance of class. The main characters of Earrings are from the upper classes, but Max Ophuls allows a few moments to peripheral characters – the ushers at the opera, or the soldiers at their post. If nothing else, these “relatable” characters put the drama in the context of the wider world.
One could also look at the humor in this film. Two examples I've just mentioned: the usher who tires of opening the door to a private box, and the soldier who complains of beans constantly on the menu. One of my favorite jokes is about the name of Madame de …. (Frequently in this sort of fiction the last name is not given.) At one point a character starts to speak her name, only to be interrupted by a cut in the film. On a place card at a banquet, her last name is obscured by a napkin; and a commemorative plaque at the end of the film is framed so that her last name is off-camera.
Then there's the camera work itself. Good lord, Ophuls loves his tracking shots; the dolly work is astonishing. (I hope the dolly grips received some sort of French national award for the wonderful jobs they did.) One could assemble a seminar on the use of camera – perhaps an entire course – from this film, along with Love Me Tonight and Grand Illusion. (Admittedly, there are a gazillion other examples, but these are especially good ones, I think.)
The title of the movie could even be used as a launching point for an essay on titles in translation. The French title was simply Madame de …, but I think “Earrings” was an apt addition to the English title; the earrings constituted a near-fetish object in this story. I try to be practical in my attitude toward English-language titles. If The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser draws viewers in to a film, wonderful! After they've seen the film, let them chew on the more literal translation (from the German): Every Man for Himself and God Against All. Meanwhile, I am grateful I don't have to associate with pedants who insist on Bicycle Thieves as the only correct English translation of the title of a certain Italian film.
And I haven't even mentioned the acting! Charles Boyer, Danielle Darrieux, and Vittorio De Sica (who later directed The Bicycle Thief, among other features) are all stellar.
Yes, essays could be written on all these things. But no one is paying me (or assigning me) to do this, and I am much too lazy to do so on my own.
A final note on the Criterion DVD: There are informative interviews included, but I especially recommend the commentary by two bright, insightful scholars, Susan White and Gaylyn Studlar.
* * *
Gran Torino was disappointing, but perhaps not surprising. It reminded me of Million Dollar Baby (another disappointment).
For many films, I can endure a bad or puzzling ending, if the main part of the film stands on its own. I don't quite understand the ending of No Country for Old Men, but that doesn't take (much) away from what preceded it; and while I was perfectly happy with the ending of There Will Be Blood, there were a few who say it ruined the film for them. To me these endings don't matter; the films had already established their greatness.
But in the two Clint Eastwood films mentioned, the endings seemed to be the main purpose of the narrative. They say, “Here is the lesson, folks,” followed by some bit of phogna bologna I can't take. In Baby, the main character can't tolerate her disability, and the Eastwood character is honor-bound to fulfill her wishes. In Gran Torino, Eastwood must make a grand redemptive sacrifice. I understand that the pre-conditions have been set forth: He has committed wartime sins that he cannot confess to an inept priest; the state of his health (kept to himself, of course) minimizes and even rationalizes his sacrifice. But I don't buy the I-am-Jesus self-aggrandization. (I say this as someone who has avoided, on the advice of counsel, such self-regarding, self-sacrificial works as The Life of David Gale and Seven Pounds.)
There are things to enjoy in Gran Torino. I got a kick out of Eastwood saying (essentially), “Hey, I can do impressions! Here's my Dirty Harry.” The sight of Eastwood riffing on his old personae (including his nameless Western antihero) was a lot of fun. And I enjoyed the performances by Eastwood and his “Hmong” co-stars (Bee Vang and Ahney Her). But in the end I didn't buy the Grand Lesson To Be Learned.
* * *
Finally this weekend, I streamed Flame & Citron from Netflix. I started off thinking this is a bit slow, but in the end I lovedlovedloved the movie. I posted some brief notes in my blog Second-Chance Cinema, and I haven't much to add here. The ten million dollars spent on the film is a large amount for Danish cinema, though it pales compared to some Hollywood extravaganzas. I am proud of the filmmakers for depicting some moral ambiguity in the Danish Resistance (which depiction has apparently cost them some domestic support) in a thoroughly absorbing and entertaining film.
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