How I Met Your Mother - "Ashtray" - Review

Initially “Ashtray” is a massively contrived episode where the jokes aren’t landing and the concept feels incredibly pointless. I’d rather not remember the times of the Zoe era, and I never found the jokes related to the Captain particularly funny.

And then something unexpected happens about a third of the way through the episode, the series starts playing around with structure and perspective to make some hilarious and heartwarming moments. 

This is the type of temporal jumping that the show used to do so well but hasn’t pulled off too well lately.

But it worked where it hadn’t often in recent seasons because it didn't feel like it was just going through the motions. The series often seems to do these just because it's become expected of them, rather than doing it for a legitimate and meaningful reason. In this episode we actually learn new things each time we popped back to the story being told; not only that, but the story, which on the surface didn’t feel pertinent, eventually lead to a great emotional moment (but more on that later). 

It managed this by retconning Ted and Robin’s description of their night with the Captain (Ted was high, and Robin drunk). When we see Ted say what he believed to be his inner monologue out loud the second time around, it played off what we already knew to land a rather amusing joke. The third retelling found Colbie Smulders nailing drunken Robin’s lines such as “Art consultant? What’s that?” A line made all the funnier for how we had now seen it used in three very different contexts. 

This was some well-structured and well-executed joke telling. It worked that much more for the touching moment where Lily tells Marshall that the Captain knocking her choice to be “just a kindergarden teacher” has seriously shaken her. Lily is a character the series has lost sight of in recent seasons, and it’s a shame because she was one of the best emotional foundations early in the show’s run (remember when she up and went to San Francisco?). Early episodes centered around Lily such as “Best Prom Ever” and “How Lily Stole Christmas” still hold some of the best earned emotional moments. So as a fan of Lily, I was pleased to see her get some solid storytime, and I was equally pleased to see her get an art consultant gig working for the Captain.

Stray Observations:

-Barney keeps trying to insert himself into the story even though he wasn’t there… until oddly enough he was. The jokes about him pretending he was there started to get grating, but it paid off in that “Archduke” joke.

-Who did the chapstick gag better: Robin or the Captain?

-Ted’s scream whenever he saw the Captain was priceless.

-“Nothing happened” “That just means hand stuff”

-Robin falls asleep on top of the Captain after he pathetic attempts to hit on him.

-The return of “Aldrin Justice”! I can’t remember the last time that’s been used.

-According to Barney, Robin’s life passion is “pleasing me sexually”

Grade: B+

What did everyone else think?

The Walking Dead - "Home" - Review

Structurally “Home” is a far better episode than last week’s “The Suicide King”. It doesn't feel like a mixed bag of good but incohesive pieces that don't add up to something greater.

For a time, it even feels like the episode is going to continue  the slower pace the backhalf of the season seemed intent on taking. This wouldn’t have made the episode bad; in fact, much of the problems the series had last season with its quieter, slower moments have been fixed. There’s better characterization and the individual moments feel purposeful rather than stalling tactics.

However, if anything is going to stick in your mind, it’s that final sequence which is another breathtakingly well-executed, intense setpiece that is perhaps the best managed to date.

Everything leading up to that moment is mostly pretty good, although some of it we could have done without, and establishes “Home” as the calm before the storm (with the storm coming sooner than anticipated). I should have seen the Governor’s arrival coming when he mysteriously went awol, but we moved away from Woodbury long enough that it completely slipped my mind. That’s a moment in the hands of less confident writers would be built up to and placed in a later episode, possibly even the finale. Glenn scouring over a chalk map and nervously assessing a defensive strategy against the Governor suggested that the attack would take place much later down the road. But it’s to the show's advantage: constant threats on The Walking Dead are actually a good thing, not a mindless one. In a world with zombies, there always needs to be threats, zombie or non-zombie, otherwise there’s nothing to drive the plot.

Which is where the problems with the episode primarily come in: it's the slowest episode this season. The character-work is necessary, but the noticeably dialed down pace could be distracting or not all that enthralling. Though the end sequence with its return to breakneck pace is arguably the best moment in the episode, the prior content isn't bad.

Before the firefight, we do find ourselves getting some interesting character exploration. Rick’s breakdown has me questioning what’s being done with him (the visions of Shane and Laurie feel like something out of a completely different show). But Andrew Lincoln plays this great, and he’s always at his best when Rick is at his most emotionally vulnerable.

Glenn, without Darryl around and Rick on his crazy bender, is nominally in charge, and in the wake of the Governor’s sexual assault on Maggie, he’s starting to go a bit crazy. He’s so insistent on vengeance upon Woodbury and he’s acting so insensitively about Maggie’s psychological state that it’s starting to drive a wedge between him and Maggie. 

Darryl is questioning his decision to go backwoods trekking with Merle. It’s a transition that feels like it happens to quickly (probably to get him back in time for the fight at the prison), but it’s a rewarding, believable development that shows emotional shades from Darryl we don’t see often enough. The other zombie sequence of the episode is also a great scene, not just because it’s a well-staged, exciting scene, but also because it purposefully moves forward Darryl’s character arc. When Darryl sees a group of people being attacked by walkers, his immediate thought is to help them, while Merle insists they ignore them. When Merle prepares to rob them, post-zombies, Darryl can’t stand it anymore; he pulls the crossbow on Merle and lets the people leave.

By episodes end, we’ve been reminded why we’re meant to care about these characters in the first place. It isn’t just because zombies or other threats could kill them at any moment; it’s because we’d rather not see them suffer such a fate even though that possibility totally exists.

This episode felt much less shakier than last week's episode, and more cohesive in terms of plotting and theme even if it's primarily too slow for its own good. 

Stray Observations:

-The ethereal music that played during Rick’s scenes made them come off as if they took place in a heightened reality.

-The Governor makes Andrea leader, but it’s all for show, he doesn’t trust her and asks Milton to keep tabs on her.

-Wait, when did Michonne become part of the group?

-Axel gets character development just in time for him to die. It’s shame because I liked the character, and Melissa McBride was pretty great in these scenes as Carole, a character who is starting to grow on me.

-Darryl and Merle planned to rob the camp blind, but never got the chance. Here’s the thing: Darryl reminds me of Sayid from Lost. Sayid was told his whole life that he wasn’t a good person; that he’d always be a killer, and he began to accept that as his lot in life even though he never truly believed in it. Similarly, Darryl has been led to believe that he’s a bad person; he had a tough, shitty life; one in which the best person in it was racist, sexist Merle. Finally, he’s found respect and he’s found a sense of place he never had before. But he’s torn. He can’t accept that anyone would see him as good because he’s still troubled by his past.

-A gunfight where no one gets hurt or injured except for Axel and a no named fighter. This was starting to stretch plausibility.

- That final sequence may have initially been abrupt but once it got going, damn if it wasn’t intense and engrossing. 

Grade: B

Girls - "Boys" - Review

Identity has always played a major role in Girls. It’s apparent more broadly in the characters figuring out who they are and what they want to be. But it also exists in the characters putting on personas to escape their true selves.

Hannah has tried on a number of identities in her escapades to become the “voice of her generation”. A task she’s discovered, as she pointed out last episode, to be exhausting. 

Shoshanna is as refreshing as she often is because of how sincere she is. She rarely if ever is hiding her true identity; it’s there for all to see (the case is similar with Adam). Her alarming honest unnerves Ray who is at a crossroads in his life. Ray, at 33, is older than the rest of the main characters. He knows who he is, but he’s not exactly where he wants to be or hoped he’d be at when he was Hannah and Shoshanna’s age. He feigns to have his shit together, but deep down he feels like a complete “loser”.

Hannah believes her career is taking off just as she’d anticipated, but she’s lying to herself. The e-book is a nice starting point, but as the random partygoer notes, “It’s not a book. It’s just an e-book”. This isn’t what Hannah wants to be writing about. Even the “12 Fruits that Make You Fat” article on her laptop is more appealing to her than writing this drivel. 

Marnie deep down knows her relationship with Booth Jonathan isn’t anything special or meaningful. But Marnie is so desperate for attention that she willfully ignores the telltale signs that douchey artist Booth could care less about her (as if the slightly disturbingly misogynistic undertones of how he treated her weren’t enough). So when she lets it slip out that she thinks they’re boyfriend and girlfriend, she’s given a rude (but not all that unexpected) awakening. 

Just like Ray and Hannah, she’s lying to herself. None of them want to be where they’re at. This lack of enamoration is true both of their mindset towards their life goals as well as the particular, specific situations they’re in. Ray just wanted to get his copy of Little Women and be done with Adam, but instead he’s forced to traverse to Staten Island to return a stolen dog. In the process he’s reminded of how unhappy he is with his life. 

If the point weren’t clear enough, the next to last scene finds Marnie and Hannah calling eachother. They both want to speak what’s on their minds; they want to fix their friendship, but neither can admit it. Rather than do the one thing they want, they continue to accept the touted identities they’ve adopted and lie to themselves and eachother. 

Marnie and Hannah may be barely concealing tears (as well as their real selves) by episode’s end, but Ray, finally by himself, is free to shed the identity that has become his cross to bear. The final shot is of him crying, completely honest about who he is. 

Stray Observations:

-Adam was too good of a character for the series not to find some way to bring him back, and Ray and Adam make a surprisingly funny and well-matched pairing.

-Adam named the dog “Dog”.

-“This is what it must have been like to storm to the beaches of Normandy” – The whole conversation between Adam and Ray on the ferry is great.

-Jessa doesn’t get much screentime but I love “depressed” Jessa noting “This book’s not going to matter”

-Adam’s “carnival game” analogy of Hannah felt pretty accurate to me.

-“She was accepting of my brand of difficult”

-The woman we meet who is the daughter of the dogowner was a smidge bizarre. I don’t know if the language here was pushing the limits.

-“You’re a hostess for a living”

-“I think I liked the idea of you”

-The episode didn’t feel like it warranted the title “Boys”. Sure, there a fair amount of time spent with Adam and Ray, but it didn’t feel like it deserved that title. 

Grade: B+

What did everyone else think?

"Stagecoach" - Film Review

When asked to name his favorite directors, Orson Welles once famously replied, “I like the old masters, by which I mean John Ford, John Ford and John Ford.”

It’s not that Ford had a particularly distinctive style that made his films so great; it was how proficient he was about filming every single shot. His shots had a quiet simplicity and strength. He more often than not cut footage than kept it, and he was notoriously opposed to lengthy dialogue. He was a brilliantly efficient and effective storyteller that told his stories with ease and a total command. Stagecoach is a film where nothing feels out of place or superfluous; this is a masterclass example in how to edit a film. Ford is merely trying to tell a story and tell it well, and it shows.  

Ford’s name has become synonymous with the Western. Though he made a number of movies that weren’t Westerns, the Western was the genre he returned to time and again; Ford was one of the driving forces for making the genre as well-regarded and well-respected as it was. 

Stagecoach is the Western encapsulated perfectly. A bunch of mismatched individuals find themselves put together under highly unlikable and extreme circumstances. The characters by now are archetypes, but Ford was one of the first to nail them down, whether it be the hooker with a heart of gold, or the jovial drunk, or the misunderstood outlaw. Riding in a stagecoach across the vast expanses of the gorgeous Monument Valley (now ubiquitous with the Western), the motley crew finds themselves chased after by Apache Indians. 

If this all sounds a bit cliché, it’s because Stagecoach is one of those seminal films that invented the clichés we associate with not only Westerns, but for films more generally about unlikely, mixed groups having to work together.    

This was the first collaboration of John Wayne and Ford in their longstanding partnership. The studio didn’t want Wayne, but Ford insisted, and soon they yielded to the always implacable Ford. Thank goodness they did: Wayne provides his usual wily, understated charm to the role of the Ringo Kid, and the film put him on the map and allowed him to star in countless other great films. 

Though it’s deeply insensitive in its portrayal of Native Americans, Stagecoach is a masterful piece of filmmaking and storytelling that remains as enjoyable today as it was when it was released.  

Grade: A    

"Shoot the Piano Player"- Film Review

Ever the romantic of the French New Wave bunch, Francois Truffaut continued to find ways to make his films feel true to real life even as they had a heightened sense of reality or at times implausible scenarios. For example, The 400 Blows is increasingly sentimental even as it’s pressing impossibly miserable scenarios upon its young protagonist.

By the same token, Shoot the Piano Player is at times thoroughly unbelievable in the situations it presents to us, but it’s so life-filled and humanistic that it manages to find the everyday in the extraordinary and the extraordinary in the everyday. 

The film is a hybrid of genres; at times thriller, at times comedy, at times romance, at times tragic drama. And more often a delightful blend of all these genres to become its own inexplicable, highly enjoyable vision. 

It’s not just that it’s a soupçon of all these elements, but also how the film chooses to present much of it to us. Like how Chico (Albert Rémy) takes time from running away from the criminals who want to kill him to have a conversation with an unsuspecting helpful stranger (Alex Joffé) about love and marriage. Or how we get an unexpected extensive flashback midway through to explicate on piano player Charlie Kohler (Charles Aznavour) that deepen our understanding of his character and his present relationship with Lena (Marie Dubois). Or the iris-effected way we learn that slimey shop-owner Plyne (Serge Davri ) has sold out Lena and Charlie. Or how two kidnappers have some alarmingly amusing smalltalk with the kid they’ve taken hostage.  

And so and so. 

Wallowing in self-pity and sadness after an unexpected tragedy, Charlie is drawn into the chaos surrounding his brother's criminal activity with gangsters, while suddenly finding himself in a love affair with Lena who renews him and gets him out of his stupor. 

There’s simply so many great moments and the unexpected ways Truffaut chooses to tell them gives them an undeniable energy that exudes through the screen. 

Truffaut adapted the film from Down There by David Goodis, but turned Charlie into a much less confident and shyer figure, and contrasted this with Lena’s strong-willed nature. He also chose to make the narrative more ambiguous and more cynical, leaning heavily on homages to American movies particularly noir and B-movies. 

It's not the Truffaut film that gets the most acknowledgement; this is a shame because it's one of those pieces of cinema that's able to be massively entertaining even as it's being deeply artistically bold and impressive. 

Grade: A

"City Lights" - Film Review

At the time of City Lights’ release, there wasn’t a film character quite as ubiquitous or iconic or well-received as Charlie Chaplin’s Tramp. That was a stroke of luck because silent films were being made less and less by studios in favor of sound features at the time of its production. Chaplin, however, with his independence at United Artists, decided to push on ahead, and in turn he created one of his finest films.

The Silent Film Era is a time period of cinema frequently bordered off; refused to be watched by some people who fail to see how genuinely entertaining and memorable these films can be.

Chaplin has such a command of the language of cinema here in City Lights. He uses each shot to articulate everything he wants to say so precisely that it painstaking and impressive (Chaplin was a noted perfectionist. He did countless takes of shots when most directors at the time usually did just one). This is all the more impressive because Chaplin had next to no diegetic sound to elaborate on any point he wanted to make.  

Yes, on the surface this is just a series of gags carried by the through line of the Tramp’s affections and doting for a blind girl (Virginia Cherrill), but these gags are used purposefully to not only be highly amusing but to move forward the plot in interesting and meaningful ways. 

Not only that but they’re incredibly funny and intelligently crafted. Chaplin beautifully stages these scenes so they feel effortless in spite of their intricacy.  

The story is undeniably sincere and sweet. The Tramp falls hard for the blind girl who sells flowers and tries to win her love. After befriending a millionaire (Harry Myers), he takes advantage of his friend’s wealth to trump himself up to be more than he is. 

Much has been said about that final scene, and rightfully so. It’s beautiful and touching scene that ties up the film fantastically.

City Lights is possibly Chaplin's best film, and it's undeniably one of silent film's greatest works.

Grade: A

"Eraserhead" - Film Review

How do we define weird?

It sounds like an odd question, but consider for a moment the fact that in order for something to be weird, there has to be something “normal” to define it against. Society decides what aspects of its culture are good and right and “normal”, and in contrast it does the same thing with those things we consider “weird”.

I bring this up because Eraserhead is an incredibly weird film. So much so that its weirdness practically comes to define it and in turn what we take away from the movie.

It’s purposefully weird though. David Lynch has always had a flare for the bizarre and abnormal; it’s inherent in all his works. He’s also not one to shy away from upsetting “polite society". 

In fact, many of Lynch’s films take on American exceptional notions of culture and identity, forcing us to reconsider why we hold such values. His seminal television series Twin Peaks is set in a small, rustic town that has an abundance of dark secrets. Blue Velvet delves into the underbelly of a white-picket fenced suburban town. 

Eraserhead isn’t as keen on tackling this subject matter, but it’s there for those willing to look. Henry Spencer (Jack Nance) gets Mary X (Charlotte Stewart) pregnant with an abnormal, horrific baby, and the remainder of the film is a surreal deconstruction of his feelings towards the child, his hatred and ill ease for childcare and domestic life, and the decay of industrial society.

The film creates an uncomfortable, claustrophobic atmosphere through its imagery and its sound design. The surreal, unnerving images combined with the mechanical, dark, incessant background noises make the film wholly bizarre. Widely overlooked upon its initial release, it grew in reputation through midnight movie 

showings to become one of cult cinemas most recognized movies. 

Grade: B