Community, Season One (2009-10)

     Now that Dan Harmon is out as the show-runner for Community (2009-present), I thought it would be a moderately decent time to do a sporadic review of the show to date.  Not that there is much interest for such a thing.  Fact of the matter is that those who have a slavish devotion to the show - and Harmon in particular - have already watched all of the episodes multiple times, and those who haven't are much more likely to simply not give a damn about the show at all.  "Community?" I imagine them asking, "Is that the show that is opposite The Big Bang Theory (2007-present)?"  Or maybe they are like Shelly Mazzanoble, and though working in a field where the pop culture references would fit the sensibilities of those who buy and use the products their company makes, chose to watch Dance Moms (2011-present) or any of the Real Housewives (2006-why the fuck does anybody watch these?) series when it comes to DVR viewing.  For whatever reason, Community has not been able to latch on to anything resembling a sizable audience.
     The über-fans have decided that this simply does not matter.  To them, anything successful must be akin to pop music, where pop music simply must be awful.  Sure, lots of pop music is bad.  But on occasion we get gems from the genre.  Like jazz fans, they revel in how cool they must be to like something that is decidedly unpopular.  I am not one of the superfans.  I like the show and make every effort to see it when it is on, but I don't plan my life around it.  I certainly don't place Community on par with sitcom classics such as The Dick Van Dyke Show (1961-66), M*A*S*H (1972-1983), or Cheers (1982-1993).  Some have compared it to Arrested Development (2003-2006; 2013?), but Arrested Development was clearly a much slyer (and unconventional) take on Soap (1977-1981), which was itself a send-up of soap opera overreaches.
     Where Community has become something of a mess, a show dedicated less to delivering coherent stories or building characters through the events of their lives, it didn't really start off that way.  It was, looking at it again, a rather normal sitcom.  It just decided to go with the absolutely insane notion of placing a group of adults (or varying degrees of maturity) into what essentially is a high school setting.  Except, because high school isn't for adults, it became a very challenged community college: Greendale. 

Jeff Winger (McHale) in a prime example of his wardrobe misfires from Season One.

     Since nobody chooses to go to community college (this conceit seems more and more elitist as time wears on and there is no real love for the school emerging), all of the main characters must have done something horrible in their lives.  Jeff Winger (Joel McHale) has cruised through life without having ever been challenged, faking his credentials to get into Law School (where he never had to study), passed the Bar Exam with no listed difficulty, and had a successful career as a lawyer (because, apparently, there is no need to actually be knowledgeable on the subject of the law if one can simply bullshit well enough); this was a weak cheat at the beginning of the show – a sign that Harmon never fully examined the implications of the set-up.  The other students are all there because they are failures rather than frauds (well, many are frauds on some level that doesn't relate to their academic careers).
     Look at me being nowhere near on point.  Community started off as a slightly off-beat sticom that, occasionally, would turn some of the conventions on their respective heads.  But it hadn't become wrapped up in the need to shock and enthrall (some of) the audience with journeys into the absurd.  It had recurring characters who were more than other hapless denizens of the halls, notably John Michael Higgins as Professor Whitman, Lauren Stamile as Professor Slater, John Oliver as Professor Duncan, and Eric Christian Olsen as Vaugh (being more of a denizen of the grassy quad); only one of those characters appears after Season One.  The wacky antics revolved around things at the school because that is where the intersection of the character's lives was.
     Somewhere along the line, in planning for a longer running show than four years (this was always more ambitious than realistic), Harmon decided to move the focus away from the classes, cafeteria,  and the study group's reserved room in the library into their lives.  This became very pronounced in Season Three, and stands in direct contrast to Season One.  No doubt that Harmon, like Keith Olbermann, has gone crazy in part from having people praise his more out there moments.  "Modern Warfare" (episode #23) was the first truly outrageous divergence from reality – it is the first paintball episode.  It works not because it has escaped from any relationship with reality but because it can be viewed as an absurd but logical extension of how things are at Greendale, but only as an exception to the regular shenanigans.  Having been praised for this, Harmon and company went off the rails in Season Three attempting to deliver as many as these type of events as possible.  It makes Season One look divorced from the show by comparison.

Annie (Brie) didn't have much to do but pine for Troy and react to scenes until the writing staff realized she had great chemistry with Jeff – and that came from them watching the episode where they had the two characters kiss (the first time).

     Season One doesn't really find its footing until "Introduction to Statistics" (episode #7), and truthfully only has seven strong episodes during the first twenty five.  Not that many sitcoms charge out of the gate with a great first season.  Part of the problem is that the cast is quite large and it is hard to find screen time for each character.  Strangely, Shirley Bennett (Yvette Nicole Brown) is a much stronger, more interesting character in Season One than in Seasons Two and Three combined.  Annie Edison (Alison Brie) and Troy Barnes (Donald Glover) are largely reactionary characters in Season One, getting only occasional moments to shine whereas they become more relevant to the stories in the last two seasons.  Britta Perry (Gillian Jacobs) was a focal character in Season One, but not with great effect.  The writers reduced her role by making the character a complete and total mess, almost unrecognizable as who she was before.
     What is consistent is the total unnecessary presence of Pierce Hawthorne (Chevy Chase).  I don't blame Chase for this, because he can't do much beyond what he is given to work with, but he should have had some thoughts about how a fat man in his mid-60s doesn't make for compellingly funny broad physical comedy.  Chase was always at his best when he was allowed to be a witty, warm (if befuddled or self-possessed) character struggling with minor inconveniences (see Clark Griswald or Andy Farmer) or putting his wits against devious bad guys (see Irwin Fletcher), but Harmon and company made his character into a nearly completely unsympathetic jackass.  The character feels – from the very beginning – like a compromise forced upon the show by the network.  You want to develop a show?  Put a name character in it.  It seems that Harmon's response was to put one in and then to have no idea what to do with him.

     I used to have this fantasy that if and when Community made it into syndication, some people would see it for the first time and start to get what they were missing.  Now I'm just convinced that when they see Season One, they will be thinking that Community would be a dry, quirky comedy.  If they jumped on board, how would they feel about the show being completely different in the space of ten weeks of viewing?  If they came on board later, how would they feel about the early struggles to define the characters?  I don't know anyone who watched Night Court (1984-1992) who thought that the first two seasons represented what that show was about.  Maybe Season One isn't representative of Harmon's vision for the show, but it is easily more accessible than what the show was during Season Three. 

Heat Rises (2011)

     Why am I reading these books?  Isn't it enough that I watch – usually on tape or via ABC.com – Castle (2009-present)?  Is there really a need for me to support the franchise by reading the supplemental material?  I look upon this as my ongoing struggle with a need to achieve some acceptable level of fandom, even though I am aware that this unobtainable (because there is no real meaning in how one is viewed as a fan of something in the eyes of others).
     Heat Rises (2011) is the third novel credited to Richard Castle, a television character who spends his time getting coffee for a squad of homicide detectives (apparently writing mostly off-screen).  It follows the formula of the earlier books and television show in that it is filled with needless misdirection and revisiting of suspect characters (because the detectives can't seem to do the legwork before dragging them in to be interviewed or confronting them at their homes or places of business).  In book form, this feels quite tedious.  Why not let the characters seem a little more on the ball?
     What the book does offer that is lacking in the TV show is frequent (and not well described) sex between the lead detective, Nikki Heat (Nikki doesn't seem to have a less ridiculous first name, but that's okay because every frequently refers to her, when speaking to her, by her full name...just like all of us do in our regular lives with our family, friends, lovers, coworkers, and enemies) and supposedly gifted journalist Jameson Rook.  That would be fine if it were handled by a more adept author, but "Richard Castle" handles the placement of the sex scenes with all the gentleness of a child stomping an ill-fitting shoe to make it fit.
     That is not the real problem with the book.  No, it suffers from an inability to have most of the disparate elements have any real relationship to what the plot is supposed to be. I don't know how this is the draft that the editors decided was good enough.  It could have absolutely used more direction from the editor, but it isn't a book that is going to make it on its literary chops – see Shatner's TekWar (1989) for a book that only needed to be good enough for die-hard Shatner fans to find satisfactory before it went to press – so all it needs to do is be written in coherent sentences. 
     Maddeningly, the Castle books never do anything to try to develop the characters.  "Richard Castle" is happy to just ape the show, albeit with less charm and little wit.  Again and again it strikes me that Castle must not be a very good writer.  We kind of know this on the show when he considers a contract to write James Bond novels (no offense, Eric Van Lustbader), but to be constantly reminded of it in the books supposedly written by the character feels like an insult.  Why doesn't investigative reporter Rook know how to do research or investigate?  Because "Richard Castle" doesn't want to do the research to show what that entails, because it would grow the character beyond a stand-in for Castle-on-TV, and because it would make the guess work the police do look very stupid in comparison.
     Why can't this series get someone who will do the Castle books some level of justice?  I have enjoyed some books that should be in the same vein of Castle's books.  Surely there are authors on par with Stephen Woodworth or Philip Hawley, Jr. who would be willing to ghost write a Castle novel (there's a paycheck, right?).  I don't know who actually writes these Castle books – I don't care enough to even search to see if that is readily available information – but it feels like it is a junior member of the show's writing staff who would not have a chance to get a book published otherwise.
     Heat Rises felt like work for much of the book.  It gets much better towards the end, where it starts to build some momentum and the characters stop being inconsistent.  Then that falls apart and most of the elements are exposed as being unrelated to the central story and so they are just dropped.  Not a good book, but if you feel the need to prove your fandom, go ahead and read it.  Or read it again, because that means you are an even more serious fan.

The DVDs I haven't reviewed

     Apparently, I don't give an opinion on everything.  Here's what I haven't posted about, either because I was too lazy or didn't care enough.

AUGUST

Blessed (2006) — So, this was pretty awful.  It is slow, overly low-key, and Heather Graham puts close to nothing into her performance.

Heartland: The Complete Second Season (2008-09) — I only watched one episode, out of devotion to Katharine Isabelle.  But it looked like a decent, mostly wholesome show.  Better than most of the other Canadian offerings as of late.

Snow Angels (2007) — It is hard to make a movie that doesn't note just how unbelievably attractive Kate Beckinsale is.  But there is too much going on in this one, to the detriment of the two major stories at play.  Not a bad movie, but not as focused as it should have been.

SEPTEMBER

Rec (2007) — Good, but I still prefer Quarantine (2008).  There is certainly a different central element at play here.  Much more horror in concept than its American cousin.

The Resident (2011) — This was horrible.  Plodding.  Predictable.  Completely lacking in tension.  I have a hard time believing that both stars wanted to do this movie, but it is hard to criticize working actors when it comes to taking jobs.

Fanboys (2009) — There is a good concept at work here, but the delivery is lacking.  Maybe it would have been better if the movie hadn't be reworked and scenes re-done in an effort to make it more mainstream.  But my main problem was the idea that more Seth Rogen is ever better.

The Special Relationship (2010) — This was a disappointment.  It essentially shows how necessary, but not always friendly, the relationships between Great Britain's Prime Minister and the American President.  Too much time was spent on tidbits and too little on the meat of the relationship.  Really felt more like an old-school Network TV movie.

Limitless (2011) — Not bad, but I found myself eager for this one to end.  If Cooper weren't so charismatic, I don't know if it would have gotten a release.

Thor (2011) — I hated this movie.  Just hated it.

X-Men: First Class (2011) — I liked this prequel, but will continue to wonder why starting the X-Men as the comics started is an impossibility.

OCTOBER

Definitely, Maybe (2008) — I have a man-crush on Ryan Reynolds.  He is great in this, as is Isla Fisher.  This could have been tighter, but it is one of the better rom-coms I've seen in a while.

Scream of the Banshee (2011) — Ugh. 

Mirrors (2008) — Too much early action, not enough of a slow build for my tastes.  I also couldn't understand why prime real estate was just sitting there waiting to claim victims with its haunting.

Ann Rule Presents The Stranger Beside Me (2003) — Yeah, this was a TV movie that did nothing to give a better idea of how the people close to Ted Bundy had no idea he was a serial killer.

NOVEMBER

Feast (2005) — Hey, Krista Allen keeps her top on.  I actually like Feast, but it is a flawed horror film.  One of the better creature features I've seen from the modern era, but too casual with how the characters are disposed of.

Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda: Season One (2000-01) — Much worse than I remember.  Hard to see how this ran for five seasons.

Killshot (2008) — Mickey Rourke as a Native American hitman.  If the film had centered on him, I think it would have appealed to me more.  The victim characters are underdeveloped (but played by likeable actors), and that means that there isn't any investment in terms of what happens to them.

DECEMBER

Bond of Silence (2010) — TV movie that wastes the talents of Kim Raver and Greg Grunberg.

Red (2010) — A little too over-the-top for me, but at least Red was entertaining.

Gene Roddenberry's Earth Final Conflict: Season One (1997-98) — Wow.  There was actually a good show here in the first season.  Sure, it had too many campy moments, but it really looked like it was laying the groundwork for a great humans vs. aliens, cloak and dagger series.

Attack the Block (2011) — I was rooting for the aliens for most of this.  Just couldn't root for the wanna-be thugs.

JANUARY

Adventureland (2009) — Hey, its Ryan Reynolds having sex with Kristen Stewart.  I kind of expect that to happen in real life.

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides (2011) — Somehow, this was worse than the original trilogy.  And they managed to add a bunch of characters I couldn't be bothered to care about.  Note to Disney: these movies can all be an hour shorter.

Gene Roddenberry's Earth Final Conflict: Season Two (1998-99) — Robert Leeshock (not pictured above) takes over as the lead and the show goes to hell.  Coincidence?  Maybe.  But killing off the main character and removing the subtlety made this show go from good to awful in about two episodes.

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine – Season One (1993)

     For some reason, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (1993-99) is inexplicably regarded as the least worthy of the Star Trek endeavors by many diehard Trekkers.  Not the animated series (1973-74), not Enterprise (2001-05), and not the downright heretical feature film helmed by J.J. Abrams (2009).  No, for some reason taking Star Trek off a ship is – or was – an unforgivable offense.
     It has taken me some time to get up the notion to rewatching DS9.  I last saw it when it enjoyed a brief late-night run on WGN shortly after going off the air, but what really peaked my interest was noting that I had actually read at least 10 of the DS9 novels.  Clearly I had some kind of emotional investment in the show, but my hindsight also makes me aware that reading these books was a way to reinforce my fanhood to myself.
     Even though I had not seen most of the episodes since the 1990s, I was surprised that there were only two where I did not clearly remember the major plot points and characters.  Yes, Season One was fraught with moments highlighting the strangeness of the Cardassian station or the mistrust of the Bajorans.  Worse, it didn't do much to develop the Bajorans (when does Sisko take the solar sailboat out?, because that would have been a nice story idea for the end of the first season).  But it kept the kiddie factor much lower than I remembered it being, and it did much to build up the Major Kira character, probably more than any other single main cast member.
     Most of the Star Trek shows did not have stellar first seasons.  Star Trek: The Next Generation (1988-1994)may have had some memorable moments from its first season, but it didn't find its voice until the third season (when the uniforms started looking good and Dr. Crusher returned).  Star Trek (1966-69) may have had some of its most iconic episodes in its first season, but there were far more clunkers (and little definition to the universe in which the U.S.S. Enterprise operated).  Star Trek: Voyager (1995-2001) may be the lone exception, where its first season was probably stronger than the following two, but there was still a lot of work to be done.  No, the first season is where the rough patches are identified, but in the case of DS9 those rough patches were really just the delay in moving towards the overarching story.
     As I have recently seen the first season of some other syndicated shows of the era – I watched Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1994 for the TV movies, 1995-1999 for the series) back in 2010 as a way to wind down after studying, but more recently took in the first seasons of Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda (2000-01) and Gene Roddenberry's Earth: Final Conflict (1997-98) in the last few months, the latter being far superior to the former – I can state without qualification that DS9 is a much better package as a show.  Hell, its first season makes Babylon 5 (1994-95) look quaint, though B5 did make an effort to get to the storyline much quicker.  The only real problem that DS9 has early on is in the premise that the Federation wouldn't garrison the mouth of the wormhole or construct their own space station there.  But that gets into the politics, and while the foundation for it is there, DS9 was just a little too slow to start working the inherent conflicts until the end the the first season.
     Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, like Voyager after it, attempted to have a meaningful story running through the length of the series.  In the case of Voyager, it was really just Lost in Space (1965-68) on a Federation star ship that eventually makes it home.  With DS9, it was an odd amalgam of destiny and religion, politics and vanity, greed and corruption, and how the enlightened Federation humanist viewpoint wasn't always the one that made the most sense.  Even with its slow start, there was more than enough promise in the first season of DS9 that Sci-Fi fans should have climbed aboard.  But I think that many felt that Paramount was overstepping their bounds by launching a Star Trek show while one was on the air, and just as many were ready for something much grimmer than TNG (they should have stuck around for the Dominion War) and claimed B5 as their own.
     As it stands, DS9 seems largely abandoned.  It deserves much more than that.  It deserves the kind of attention that critics stumbled over themselves to throw at the re-boot of Battlestar Galactica (2004-09), even if it still bore the shine of Roddenbery's optimism about the future.  And I am looking forward to making some slow progress through the rest of the series.

Community Lives!

     It has been too long since the Greendale Human Beings had a presence on NBC's Comedy Night (which is a questionable description so long as Whitney or Up All Night are located in that scheduling block).  An aggressively absurdist show that finds most of its humor in between discomfort and conformity, Community (2009-present) has somehow failed to resonate with audiences.  Maybe it is the era.  When sitcoms that endlessly repeat the same situations – a winning formula established as early as the mid-1950s – are the most popular on the air, the risks Community takes may make it look strange and alien.
     For reasons that must relate to NBC's desire to stop being a major broadcast network, the best comedy currently in production has been treated like the ugly step-sister, somehow not as worthy of praise as The Office (2005-present, a show well past its prime) or the consistently overrated 30 Rock (2006-present).  Granted, Community took some time to become what it is, and what it is does not seem to be exactly the same thing from season to season.  Unlike Chuck Lorre's wildly popular shows, it doesn't hate its own characters (well, it may actually hate two of them, but I'd like to think it is more of a problem of knowing what to do with them in Season Three).
     I would have preferred that Community had come back with an episode that was stronger and friendlier to potential new viewers than "Urban Matrimony and the Sandwich Arts".  While it does a decent job keeping the energy and mood at the right level for the show, it felt rushed and a little contrived.  Part of the problem may be the ongoing problem on not knowing how to use Chevy Chase's character in Season 3, but I think it was much more likely that the show needed to be more about Shirley than the other characters reactions to her getting married to her once-and-future husband, Andre.
     Whatever complaints I may have, I tend to enjoy Community more than any other show that is currently on TV.  It will break my heart when it is cancelled at the end of the year, living on only in a short run at Comedy Central and in the DVD or Blu-ray sets die-hard fans purchase.  It isn't setting out to be easy.  It isn't as cheery as Parks and Recreation (2009-present), nor does it have an easily identifiable character around which to structure the shows. We'll see if the show can find some way to finish stronger than this last episode, but even the worst episode of Community is better than the crap NBC rolled out this year in a desperate attempt to keep viewers interested.

The characters, as a D&D nerd would understand them.  Except that Pierce should be announcing his victory in Dungeons & Dragons.  You know, the advanced kind.

TV Shows That Didn't Change the World

      There is a lot of pretension that comes when people evaluate the TV shows and movies they like.  Many insist that their favorite shows somehow changed the world. Some people have (quite incredibly) made that claim about Firefly (2002), a show that was entertaining but flawed enough that FOX couldn't attract any viewers even with constant promotion (fans who discovered the show on DVD make the claim that FOX killed the show by airing episodes out of order or insisting on a pilot episode that would entice people to want to see more of the show, but as they didn't watch it when it was on I ignore their ill-informed repetitions of other people's opinions).  Likewise, people have made the claim about The Cosby Show (1984-1992) – a show that may have changed Middle America's attitude about black families – but seeing as how I watched about 80% of the first four seasons and all I can remember is that Theo tried listening to MacBeth on a record and Ridy had a friend named Bud, I am not going to treat it as a game changer.
      I would dare say that most of the shows that I spent my time watching were so much fluff that I couldn't ask anyone to believe that they have had any kind of lasting impact or deeper meaning.  Such is the fate of anyone who has dedicated entirely too much time plopped in front of the tube, effectively doing nothing.  But there are some shows of which I am quite fond that never really seemed to get their due.  None of them were high art, ratings darlings, or critically acclaimed.  Still, these shows – all of which aired at some point in the 1990s – that didn't change the world deserve a few words. 

5) Tour of Duty (1987-1990)

     No doubt put on television in an attempt to cash in on the success of Oliver Stone's Platoon (1986), Tour of Duty (1987-1990) started off as a promising in the bush combat show, one that would allow for something beyond the allegory Stone employed.  Unfortunately, cast changes – some due to character death – and altering the tone to allow for soapy romantic interplays (not really necessary in a TV show about how the men of Bravo Company endure the war) robbed the show of its distinctive feel.  Moving the filming location from Hawaii to a Hollywood backlot also made it feel less authentic.
     Still, there is something raw (for the era) about Tour of Duty.  It addresses racial inequity and tension, and not in some kind of enlightened way.  Lt. Goldman (Stephen Caffrey) and SSgt. Anderson (Terrence Knox) may have great affection for their black soldiers, but they take almost no action to limit the racism of the white soldiers; it is the late 1960s and they don't have the answers.  This is a show that aired before "nigger" became the n-word, as is evidenced by it being used on multiple occasions (including in the pilot).
     Sadly, for all the good of Tour of Duty – it has good production values for its era, the action (especially in the first season) is compelling, the characters feel real – it simply feels lifeless once the period appropriate music is removed from it.  So much of the mood is killed that it makes the show seem second rate.  That, and the knowledge that the producers felt a need to compete with ABC's China Beach (1988-1991) for female viewers (not a battle they were going to win) by making it less of a combat-focused show keep it from being an all-time favorite.  But there are more than enough great episodes (mostly from Season One) to keep this show in mind when it comes to thinking about a time when the networks didn't have cable competition and were still willing to take chances.
     I have actually met and had brief conversations with series regular Miguel A. Nuñez, Jr. and guest star Tim Thomerson ("They Good, the Bad, and the Dead", 1987). Both felt that Tour of Duty never got its proper due from critics but that fans – especially those who have served in the military – have continued to be enthusiastic about it even 20 years after its cancellation.  I cannot speak for the critics of the era, but I do know that Tour of Duty started off as a show that was willing to let the soldiers be afraid of the threat of combat and desiring little more than making it through the day in one piece.  It wasn't the rah-rah piece that Combat (1962-67) or Baa Baa Black Sheep (1976-78) were, but it fell short of giving the audience a real feel of the dangers of war (I blame the era) while striving to be more realistic.
     I say give Season One a chance.  Forget that it doesn't have the period music and concentrate on the relationships between the characters or how nothing is ever as simple as a TV show of the time should have had it.

4) The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. (1993-94)

     Back before Bruce Campbell got fat or producer Carlton Cuse found success with Nash Bridges (1996-2001) and Lost (2004-10), there was a show on FOX with cowboys, rockets, and prostitutes.  And it wasn't Firefly.  Sure, The Adventures of Brisco County Jr. (1993-94) had some issues balancing the campy humor with western action, but Campbell was perfect as the Harvard educated lawyer who turned bounty hunter to avenge his murdered father.  There were elements of the supernatural and science fiction, but the show mostly existed to give a humorous take on the dime novel stories of cowboys and villains.
     The cast – limited as it was – could not have been better.  Campbell knows how to play charming, bordering on (but stopping short of becoming) smarmy.  Fit and young, he plays the role like a Han Solo in the fading days of the Wild West who is unburdened by a Luke Skywalker.  Filling in the Chewbacca role was Julius Carry's Lord Bowler, though Bowler begins the series as a friendly adversary of Brisco.  Christian Clemenson rounded out the regulars as the uptight lawyer for the Westerfield Club, Socrates Poole.  All seemed to luxuriate in their roles without crossing the line into self-involvement.  Recurring characters like Dixie Cousins (Kelly Rutherford), Professor Wiskwire (John Astin), Whip Morgan (Jeff Philips), Pete Hutter (John Pyper-Ferguson, perhaps the ultimate TV guest star of the 1990s-present), and John Bly (Billy Drago) provided a sense of continuity and always matched the main cast in terms of tenor and tone.
     Brisco County was like the Deadlands RPG without the need for giant monsters or a Southerner's fantasy about the CSA enduring. It debuted in the same season as The X-Files (1993-2002) – and served as the latter's lead-in – and was actually the more enjoyable show of the two.  What The X-Files had was a monster-of-the-week formula it could through in to break up the alien mythology episodes, and that was wholly lacking on television at the time.  Brisco County had the additional burden of people thinking that it was a Western – a genre that draws less interest on television than mild sci-fi – and that kept some people at bay.  I would assume that anyone looking for a traditional Western would have been downright angry at the mix that Brisco County offered.
     I think there are only three or four dud episodes in the single season of Brisco County.  It was on its way to building a much more accessible and compelling mythology than The X-Files or Lost (2004-2010) with the "device" that set most of the events in motion, but Cuse has made public comments about how he imagined a second season of Brisco County would have moved in a different direction, so maybe it is for the best that it is all contained in the 27 episodes.  I only wish that TNT had produced a TV movie for the last adventure of Brisco and Bowler.

3) Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995-99)

     I remember when I was watching the first run of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys (1995-99) that it was rather silly stuff.  And it still is.  But Hercules is much more fun and consistent than its spawn, Xena: Warrior Princess (1996-2000).  Kevin Sorbo was a more likeable lead than Lucy Lawless (at least at that point in her career) and his Hercules didn't need to spend endless episodes making up for his past misdeeds. One can argue that the Action Pack telefilms and Season One offer little reason to invest in Hercules.  Maybe.  But the show does go on to get better.
     It is never high art.  I don't think anyone ever had any illusions that it was supposed to be.  Sorbo and semi-regular Michael Hurst (as Iolaus) do their best to not let the humor undercut the dramatic tension.  Both managed to make the choreographed combats look interesting (if not realistic in any way).  Recurring guests Robert Trebor (as Salmoneus), Bruce Campbell (as Autolycus, King of Thieves), Alexandra Tydings (as Aphrodite), and the late Kevin Smith (as Ares) managed to match the energy and tone of the regulars in such a way that it was surprising to think that they were not always present.
     Given the limited production budget – somewhat maximized from shooting in New Zealand – it is amazing how good most of the episodes look.  Okay, maybe not some of the costuming, and definitely not the wigs and beards that look like they came out of a high school drama department's stash, but the overall photography and set design are well above average.
     Sorbo went on the make the vastly inferior Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda (2000-2005) and is apparently in the process of making a television show that seems eerily similar to My Name is Bruce (2007).  However, he will likely forever be thought of as Hercules.  And with good reason.  It was a fun show that relied almost entirely on the charisma of its star, and to good effect. 

2) Farscape (1999-2003)

     Nobody makes a soft Southern accent in space sexier than Ben Browder, and not in any intentional way.  Browder's John Crichton character is an RPG player's wet dream – the guy who gets to live the adventure and make constant pop-culture references and in-jokes during the action without breaking the mood.  He is the All-American hero, a Ph.D. and Astronaut who is good looking and (on Earth, at least) suave.
     Sure, Farscape (1999-2003) could have used a much larger production budget and less puppetry, but it endures as a quality show nonetheless. Creator Rockne S. O'Bannon and producers Richard Manning, David Kemper, and Robert Halmi, Jr. were never afraid to throw some darkness into the adventures of the earthling cast out amongst an alien universe.  At the same time, there was always a fair amount of humor to be found.
     The only bad things I have to say about Farscape are that there are four or five episodes that do nothing to drive the story forward or develop the characters and that the wrap-up film, Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars (2004) is too compressed to allow for the character interplay that made the show one of the best programs on during its run.  Browder, Claudia Black, Anthony Simcoe, Gigi Edgely, Virginia Hey, Lani John Tupu, Tammy McIntosh, Raelee Hill, Jonathan Hardy (voice), and Wayne Pygram all seem to find something deeper in the characters than what is on the page. 
     I have never been happier to own a series on DVD than I am with Farscape.  I cannot figure out how it was not picked up for a fifth season (the show's producers and the Sci-Fi Channel – now SyFy – could not come to terms on the production costs), yet Stargate SG-1 (1997-2007) ran for ten seasons.  Maybe having a movie tie-in and an established TV star like Richard Dean Anderson makes all the difference in the world.  But Farscape remains one of the better shows that cable television had to offer at the time, and it didn't need to use frequent swearing or gratuitous nudity and sex scenes to impress critics.

1) Friday the 13th: The Series (1987-1990)

     Sure, there is a pale imitation of Friday the 13th: The Series (1987-1990) on the SyFy channel called Warehouse 13 (2009-present), but the latter has a much lighter, comedic tone.  This is not to say that there wasn't humor in the old Friday the 13th: The Series, but not all of it was intentional.  No, Friday the 13th: The Series was about as close to a horror film as one could sell on American television in the late 1980s.
     The set-up is wholly implausible in every regard.  Antique shop owner Louis Vendredi (R.G. Armstrong) makes a deal with the Devil to sell cursed objects that both wreak havoc in the world and deliver the souls of those who use them to, you guessed it, the Devil.  For some reason, Louis decides he doesn't want to do this anymore and that doesn't want sit well wit Satan.  That sets it up for his distant relatives – this is never clearly established and how they are related changes over the course of the series – Micki (Louise Robey) and Ryan (John D. LeMay) to inherit his shop.  They meet former magician/item procurer/WWII hero Jack Marshak (Chris Wiggins) and find out that they have just unleashed a flood of cursed items into the market.
     The rest of the series is supposed to be an effort to limit the damage these relics can cause, recover them and lock them away.  Louis reappears from beyond the grave a few times to menace the trio, but the show focuses much more frequently on the discovery of one of the items sold well before Micki and Ryan took over the shop.  Ryan exits after a two-part episode that is much more evocative of The Omen (1976) than slasher horror, making room for Johnny Ventura (Steven Monarque).
     While Ryan was really the heart of the series, Season Three has some of the best written episodes and the Johnny character may have developed into a compelling one given more time.  Instead, Paramount shut down production when they had enough material to sell the show in half hour installments overseas (under the name "Friday's Curse").  It would have been nice for Friday the 13th: The Series to have come to a proper conclusion, but that wouldn't be fitting for the horror genre.
     The effects may be cheesy.  The stories may use too many shortcuts that seemed obvious even in the era.  But there is something compelling and fun in the show.  It is one that could use a revisit, provided the right casting and respect of the characters as originally written.  Until then, we are left with the homage on SyFy.

Richard Castle's Deadly Storm: A Derrick Storm Mystery (2011)

     I cannot believe that Marvel retailed this at $19.99.  Or that people paid that amount for it.  Or that it is a hardcover graphic novel – the cover is as thick as the material between them.  On the subject of price, ABC seems to think that overcharging for materials that serve to promote their show (the Nikki Heat novels list at $19.99 to $25.99).  The show is available for free...sort of.  Factor in any cable or satellite charges versus viewing time and it might cost around $3 to watch a season – considerable cheaper than buying them on DVD or Blu-ray.
     See how I'm not diving into any kind of commentary on the material.  Maybe because it was so damnably subpar.  Never mind that it sets up a bad contradiction between the story and the mythology of the Derrick Storm novels as presented in the same book; there are always cheats an author can use to unmake a mistake.  There just isn't anything to the story.  There is little to no character development, just plugging types into the structure and letting expectations be met. 
     Most disappointing, the format wedges in a Castle hero relying on a strong female lead to direct and save him (something that was not supposed to be present in his fiction prior to being inspired by Det. Beckett...as my memory informs me from having seen the show from the get go, and I will admit that I may be mildly wrong).  There is nothing in the story that would make one believe that people would make it a best selling novel or spawn a successful series.  It feels very much like what I imagine my writing a mystery novel would be like – and that means not completely formed and full of guess work as to police (and governmental) procedures without any satisfactory endings to scenes involving them.  What's more, it then becomes hard to take the hero seriously when he needs help with everything but still is competent enough that everyone needs him to do what they can't.
     I did like the artwork, though.  Sure, it suffers from the very common comic book problem of occasional inconsistencies in how the characters look (I can't draw anything consistently, so I can appreciate how hard it must be), but it looks crisp and clean and imparts a good amount of movement without resorting to clichéd panels (it does once, and it feels very out of place).  I liked that it used typed lettering for Storm's inner monologue and regular handwritten lettering for the dialogue; it somehow felt right.  It doesn't hold a candle to my favorite graphic novels – but I fell in love with those in 1986 and the artist has since recolored them to lesser effect – but it comes close to being high quality. (As a total aside, it looks like I could sell my Elfquest graphic novels and pay all my expenses for three months.  That would never happen with Castle properties.)
     There isn't much here other than a quick diversion.  It doesn't really inform the show any better and it doesn't convince anyone that Richard Castle has a great imagination – a quality he is supposed to have.  The price is simply too high to justify this as a purchase.  Find a friend who forked over their hard earned cash or get a copy from the library if you are interested.  I believe in buying books when the value is right, but this would have to drop down to about $7.50 before that level would be found.

Naked Heat (2010)

     I like Nathan Fillion.  I liked him as Johnny Donnelly on Two Guys and a Girl (1998-2001); Fillion came on the show after the name change.  I liked him as Captain Malcolm Reynolds in the enjoyable, but deeply flawed series Firefly (2002).  But I think the role he was born to play was that of Richard Castle on ABC's Castle (2009-present), as it allows him to indulge his evident inner-geek and make the regular murders that provide the plots for individual episodes to seem interesting, or more so beyond the script.
     So, Fillion draws me to Castle – and while I'm watching it I often wonder if I would enjoy a show with with John Huertas and Seamus Deaver as scrappy detectives who never get the glory for all the work they do – and it is in the vein of fandom that I have read the first two novels written by the Richard Castle persona.  I don't know if I can really defend this.  I have a long list of books that I should read.  I have an equally long list of titles I want to read.  And I have made a real effort to make the 2011-12 reading project one that has a lot more non-fiction titles of merit.  Ignore that comic book/graphic novel week of titles that are now part of said project.
     Naked Heat (2010) follows the events of Heat Wave (2009) by a few months.  Jameson Rook (the stand-in for Richard Castle), made somewhat unpopular amongst the police he shadowed for his magazine article finds a new way to become part of the investigating team: he stumbles upon the murder of a high profile gossip columnist.  It takes some time for him to win the warm regard of the detectives, but he does.  And then he has sex with Nikki Heat (the stand-in for Kate Beckett) again. 
     The novel stresses one of the weaknesses of the television show.  In order to keep some kind of mystery going, the detectives (and writer) often have to go back to people who were originally suspects.  I mean often as in regularly and repeatedly.  In the book, it happens over and over and over again.  The story is more involved than a single episode could be, but it is also horribly contrived – such as the garbage strike.  Adding to the problem, most of the elements of Naked Heat have appeared in episodes in Seasons Two and Three.  The ending is a little weak, especially for all of the disparate elements that are brought into the tale.  The pacing also raises some concerns, but it isn't so jarring as to cause any problems.
     Whoever writes the Richard Castle novels isn't particularly concerned with creating a setting, instead simply giving the show's characters different names.  There is next to nothing in regards to physical descriptions, and just as little attention paid to clothing.  Neither Heat nor Rook are developed as characters, and if one were no familiar with the show it is unlikely that either would feel like people worth headlining a story.  However, the Richard Castle novels are a tie-in to the show.  As such, they allow for stories that are similar to the show without having to constrain themselves to the established continuity.  Maybe the selling point is that Heat and Rook get together, something denied to Beckett and Castle.
     As a diversion that is tied-in to something I already invest some time to, Naked Heat is decent.  It is better written and structured than Heat Wave.  Like most of the fluff I have read for the projects, Naked Heat was a two day read.  What I would recommend – strongly recommend – is to not watch an episode of Castle in between reading the book.  It can cause a few moments of what...wait that are the result of an easy confusion between the two.

A Study in Scarlet [Graphic Novel] (2010)

     Say what you will, I have some inner need to either work in themes or to work towards completion when it comes to a body of written work.  In both these manners the graphic novel of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's A Study in Scarlet (2010 for the graphic novel; 1886 for the original) fits as there is decidedly a theme this week of supporting the illustrated story and Conan Doyle's Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes were reviewed on 20 September, 2011.  Granted, reading the graphic novel will allow me to not have to pick up the original tale for some time, but it does give me the illusion of having read it.
     I do want to admit – in an ugly sort of way – that I greatly enjoyed being able to finish this in the span of about an hour, much faster than if I were reading the original.  Likewise, much of the needless description of unimportant details are left out as I.N.J. Culbard illustrates the scenes well and perhaps improves upon some of Conan Doyle's approaches to setting the scene.  Unfortunately, neither illustrator Culbard or "text adapter" Ian Edginton can do little to mask some of Conan Doyle's shortcomings when it comes to imagining characters.
     If you are like me – and not in all the bad ways – then you likely grew up with a level of admiration for Sherlock Holmes.  I mean, come on, he's the world's smartest man.  And he can handle himself in a fight.  And he solves crimes.  And stops international incidents from causing wars.  He is about as English a superhero as one could imagine, and he doesn't need to come from a distant planet or be bitten by a spider to get his powers.  But in reading through the stories, there is so much withheld from the reader that it makes it impossible to appreciate what Holmes is actually doing.  And the rest of the cast is usually so confused as to how to go about detective work that the only role they serve is for Holmes to explain what he has done – things hidden from the reader until the end.
     I kind of hate that kind of storytelling.  I think of it as the Henry Lopez school of building a mystery – never mind that Mr. Lopez is working in a different medium and more than a century after Conan Doyle – where surprises can be sprung simply because no information regarding them was ever offered in the first place.  Modern detective stories usually give more of an insight as to the work.  Even comedic approaches like USA's Psych (2006-whenever USA cancels it) show the actual observations, but retain the Holmesian wrap-up speach as to how the mystery was solved.  Shawn Spencer (James Roday), a modern super-observant detective, pretends to be psychic and hides behind humor rather than endlessly berating the police force for not picking up on every single clue.

Shawn Spencer and Guster Burton, Psych's answer to Holmes and Watson.  Less pretentiousness, more snarkiness.  And occasionally the detectives know more than they do.

     Back to A Study in Scarlet.  Conan Doyle gives a brief account of how Watson came to return to England and meet Holmes.  It feels very unsatisfactory, and it is hard to imagine how these two men could come to develop a strong sense of friendship.  Watson comes across as a dullard who is living off of a government settlement due to his injuries in the Battle of Maiwand (in Afghanistan).  Holmes seems like a self-important twat (in the British sense) who is only interested in someone with whom he can split the rent and bully with his intellect.
     As for the story, it actually is pretty imaginative.  Two men are killed and Scotland Yard does not know how to find the killer – and Conan Doyle actually treats the inspectors with a small amount of respect in regards to their thinking and methods.  Holmes stumbles around, insults people, goes missing for periods of time, and then announces he has determined who the murderer is, but needs to get him as to find out why.  That leads to a rather dull and lengthy tale of the motivation behind the killings.  However, we do learn that Watson can diagnose an aneurism simply by checking someone's pulse, so that is quite impressive.

Page 17, where Watson assesses Holmes

     The drawing style feels modern while still evoking a comfortable image of Victorian England.  I prefer how the cutaway scenes are handled to the main story, but both are well done.  The scenes move at a good clip, and the faces come across as emotive enough to get the job done.  The action – there isn't much – is a little lackluster in appearance, but maybe it is meant to be restrained to begin with.
     I think the asking price of $14.95 is kind of high.  I checked a copy of from the local library – at a cost of $0, which is always pretty solid.  Still, it isn't a price gouge.  And if one were really into all things Sherlock Holmes, this would make a fine addition to the collection.  It is also is probably a better means of introducing the characters to the younger set – especially if they can see this before the Guy Ritchie films –than the alternatives.

The Singular Determinant: On the Topic of the Allowance of Free Action

     I didn't get the draft of the short story on which I am working done in time for today's post.  So I went and dug up an old paper from the last Philosophy class I took.  I can only assume that it will see nowhere near the traffic that the Case Study does.  I went and added pictures to go with the music, film, and television sources.

      

The Singular Determinant: On the Topic of the Allowance of Free Action ¹

Living on a lighted stage

Approaches the unreal

For those who think and feel

In touch with some reality

Beyond the gilded cage

Cast in this unlikely role,

Ill-equipped to act

With insufficient tact

One must put up barriers

To keep oneself intact

Living in the limelight

The universal dream

For those who wish to seem

Those who wish to be

Must put aside the alienation

Get on with the fascination

The real relation

The underlying theme

Living in a fisheye lens

Caught in the camera eye

I have no heart to lie

I cant pretend a stranger

Is a long-awaited friend

All the worlds indeed a stage

And we are merely players

Performers and portrayers

Each another’s audience

Outside the gilded cage ²

Canadian prog-rock trio Rush

                        

     What are we to supposed Neil Peart is addressing with these lyrics?  Is he only describing the life of a famous, successful musician, or is he describing something more primal, more elemental to human existence?  The former is entirely plausible, for Rush was quite successful when this song was penned (it is from Rush’s 1981 album Moving Pictures), and Rush clearly performs on a stage while performing before an audience, under many lights which serve to highlight the members.  However, Peart is at the same time explaining a truth that exists for both Rush (the band) and people in general.  What is at stake is the nature of the individual.  Should the individual seek external definition and act merely as an object to be observed and assessed by others?  Or should the individual risk alienation – being considered as a distinct other not fitting into the prescribed mold – and reject external direction and determination of one’s being?

     More to the point, what does Peart mean when addressing the stranger?  Is this merely a statement that he cannot engage in perfunctory glad-handing of people he does not know, or a deeper statement as to the nature of the self in relation to others, that the relationship between the self and the other is one that needs to be carefully guarded to hold on the sense of one’s own identity?  Can one who was once a friend become a stranger – can the other change his or her nature, or is the nature of the other determined only be the observing being?

     These questions may seem beyond the scope of a pop-rock song written and recorded by a Canadian power trio, though Rush did write several songs that are clearly influenced by the works of Ayn Rand.  While Rand is a poor philosopher (the Penguin Dictionary of Philosophy describes objectivism as a “so-called philosophy”³), many have taken her decrying of altruism and religion to heart.  Leonard Piekoff made an attempt to present objectivism as an actual philosophy, one of which is the is the importance of selfishness and individual achievement.  Acknowledging this, it is not beyond reason to see an existential influence in a song such as “Limelight.”

     What is of interest in “Limelight” is how it can be understood in phenomenological terms, specifically in regards to the self as proposed by Martin Heidegger and Erwin Straus.  Rush addresses something that is presented in regards to the sense of self in regards to the other (the greater societal other rather than just an individual).  To Heidegger, this is best seen in regards to the authentic vs. inauthentic life, which is indeed supposed to be a struggle.  When Peart writes that “living in the limelight / the universal dream / for those who wish to seem,” he is representing the possibility that the highest achievement of the inauthentic being – a being wholly corrupted by society and robbed of a sense of self, or at least determinant self direction – is to be seen, respected, lauded by society.  The authentic being, on the other hand, is sure to receive some degree of “alientation” – a supreme sense of being different from the societal other – when engaging in a struggle for the better understanding of the self on one’s own terms.  For Heidegger, there is an implicit sense of guilt in failing to seek to live the authentic life, and the risk is immense – one can fall away from one’s self (though this is likely to mean one’s sense of self) and be left with nothing.  As the definition of the self would come from the societal other, it is not controlled by the being.  It would not be his or hers.  The individual would literally be left with nothing of their own.  Instead, the individual must seek “the underlying theme” – the self.

     For Straus, there is another risk.  The individual must interact with other beings to be sure, but there must be some sort of regulator to ensure that the sense of self is not obliterated by the societal other.  Straus labels this “shame.”  Straus’ concept of shame is not merely concealing shame, but also preservative shame.   Here, preservative shame can best be seen in the song with the lyrics: “Cast in this unlikely role / ill-equipped to act / with insufficient tact / one must put up barriers / to keep oneself intact.”  The barrier (singular) for Straus is shame.  It allows for the self to determine the risk of exposing oneself in one’s actions.   Shame is what allows for the continued sense of self.  Much as phenomenology posits that the being finds itself in the world, Peart imagines a being with necessary social interactions but not sufficiently equipped to deal with the societal other without risking the self.

Seinfeld and Philosophy [A Book about Everything and Nothing] (2000)

     So the most important lesson I've learned about my first book in the Pop Culture and Philosophy series – this one being a Christmas gift from a few years ago – was that I am not going to be able to progress through the series (the ones I would want to read, at any rate) by getting them from the library.  As if this were an actual philosophy text, I could not resist the urge to write notes and underline lines – or entire segments – in an effort to keep my thoughts on the matters accessible.  I also learned that the current state of philosophical writing for a mainstream audience is horrifically inadequate; Dr. Cunning was right to warn me away from pursuing an advanced degree in the field if this is anywhere near the level of discourse I could expect from fellow students, let alone professors.

Jerry

     What is good about Seinfeld and Philosophy [A Book about Everything and Nothing] (2000)?  At the top of the list I would suggest that it kindly reminded me of how good Seinfeld (1989-1998) was when it worked.  There were a few essays that did a good job of encapsulating the ideas behind very complex philosophical concepts.  And some of the essays were written in such a way that they weren't laborious ramblings devoid of a concise point.  Please allow me, if you are willing, to not follow that example and go on a seemingly pointless ramble not bound by a central theme, but done as bullet points.

Socrates, sort of

▸    Editor William Irwin (then Assistant Professor of Philosophy at King's College, now Professor of Philosophy and Director of the Honor's Program at the same institution) makes a common error – one that needs to be addressed – in asserting that "Socrates who was thought mad and ultimately put to death for trying to draw attention to such a higher plane of thought and reality." (Jerry and Socrates, p. 9).  This puts the onus of the political execution of Socrates not on his corrupting the youth (the most common misconception of why he was executed, perhaps because it the charge of which he was found guilty) but of advancing a deeper understanding of reason and the world.  Let us be clear: Socrates was executed because several of his students were agitators who opposed the Democracy in Athens and eventually led to the implementation of an oligarchical rule (supported by the Spartans) and a resultant civil war between the Men of the City and Men of Piraeus.  It is historical fact; the charge of corrupting of the youth was a more of a nod to the possibility that allowing Socrates to remain in Athens could lead to another generation who would try to destroy the Democracy.  As Socrates wouldn't accept exile as an option – Athens was his home – death was the only viable political option.  It is hard for me – as a reader – to take Irwin seriously when he wants to take such a simplistic approach to the fate of Socrates.

▸    Daniel Barwick (Assistant Professor at SUNY College of Technology – Alfred) may not misunderstand Aristotlean Virtue Ethics (more on this later), but he sure does like misrepresenting the context behind or the actual meaning of the lines he quotes from Seinfeld.  He takes George Constanza's pronouncement – to lawyer Cheryl – that "I'm disturbed!  I'm depressed! I'm inadequate! I got it all!" ("The Visa") to mean that George hates himself, and not that he feels he can work his less desirable qualities into something that can entice an attractive woman to sleep with him.  There is a difference between hating oneself – which it can be argued that George does – and believing that one's shortcomings can be used as an unlikely advantage in procuring sex.  Barwick likewise misunderstands George's desire to watch a movie at Jerry's:
     He hates that his life is boring:

     Because if I watch [a video] at my apartment 

     I feel like I'm not doing anything.  If I watch 

     it here, I'm out of the house, I'm doing 
     something.
     ("The Junior Mints") 
     – George's Failed Quest for Happiness (p. 21)
 This is so much bigger than George finding his life to be boring.  Instead, George needs to have an audience or witnesses to what he is doing in order for him to feel that there is something being done.  It is a statement, and one that fits much better with the accusation that George hates himself, that anything solely related to George is nothing worth noting; it may as well be nothing or simply not be done.  In context that is much closer to my life, there is little reward to be found in watching a bad movie, but I can attempt to manufacture some meaning behind it if I express my opinions on it and those opinions find an audience.  Simply having the opinions isn't much of an accomplishment. 

George Constanza

     Barwick takes the line: "She thinks I'm a nice guy.  Women always think I'm nice.  But women don't want nice." ("The Cafe") to represent George hating that his faults are obvious to women.  First, I think that the knowledgeable viewer of Seinfeld would not characterize George as nice.  Second, George is giving voice to the notion that he can be easily dismissed as a non-sexual entity by women who are simply looking for something he does not appear to be.  This is really more the bane of his existence, that he cannot get beyond his own vanity and insecurity to adopt a coping strategy that would allow him to approach women as something other than a bald, short, fat, often unemployed man who – at times – lives with his parents.  It isn't that he hates that his flaws are easily visible to others, it is that he doesn't know how to hide them from himself – to concoct the perfect lie that would enable him to believe he is more than he is – that keeps him dubious about his prospects with women.  And the writers aren't even consistent on this.
     On page 23, Barwick misunderstands George's line, "When you're hopeless you don't care.  And when you don't care, the indifference makes you attractive." ("The Fix-Up") as a surrender to his problems.  Instead, and I want to give the writers credit here, it is more of an astute observation that perhaps the least attractive quality one can have is a palpable aura or sense of desperation.  George knows this.  He is pondering why he cannot have a level of contentment in his current lot in life – just an acceptance of it – and that from this level of satisfaction and not desperately searching for redemption through the mercies of the fairer sex that he may not just find himself in a better place to enter into a relationship, but that he could properly appear as having attractive traits to quality women.
     Barwick also makes the semi-common argument that Aristotle argued that one can become a virtuous person.  I am not a scholar of Aristotle and will cede that there are many who read the Nichomachean Ethics in such a way that true virtues can be developed.  However, it was my understanding of the text – and one reinforced by Dr. James King – that Aristotle more properly argues that one's character is essentially a trait one is born with, and the best that can be accomplished with those who will not know true virtue is to get them to ape the acts of the virtuous (a prerequisite in learning how to be properly virtuous anyway), usually by means of threat.  Be good or else, which can be clearly seen in the Aristotlean influence in the early Roman Catholic Church.  Barwick may have a much greater understanding of Aristotle than do I, and he may be right in that real virtues can be fostered in individuals, but not in ones as deeply flawed as George (a point that Barwick does make).

Elaine Benes

▸ Sarah E. Worth (Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Furman) tackles whether Elaine Benes is – or has the potential to be – a feminist icon (in Elaine Benes: Feminist Icon or Just One of the Boys?).  I was much more impressed with a criticism of how women are presented on television – "As the average female television character falls into a certain set of stereotypes, we presume that those stereotypes should work in the real world as well" (p. 27) – than I was with her take on feminism in general.  Worth is addressing the need (for lack of a better term) for writers to present female characters with girlish traits as a means of making them appear to be more real.  It is this kind of lazy thinking that leads to female characters who are, with no reasonable explanation, at odds with themselves.  It is why I have such a problem with how the main character of Against the Wall is presented when the writers/directors/producers feel she must be made real in some convoluted feminine manner.  It isn't so much that we (the audience) actually expect the stereotypes to really hold true in the real world, more that we want them to loosely apply.  Doing less would mean that the way women are presented on television is absolutely false and acts as an insult to our real-life experiences.
     At any rate, Worth ends up making the mistake of siding with Carol Gilligan (and not Kohlberg or Kant), thinking that there is some kind of defense of gender needed when what is at issue is cultural norms and how gender roles affect the application of reason.  Worth presents another feminist rebuttal to the application of reason when it comes to morality with Nel Nodding's ethic of care:

     "I should act always in such as to 

     promote the well-being of both the 

     others to whom I am in relation and 

     the self which is relationally 

     constituted."

     – Nel Noddings, Caring: A Feminine 

        Approach to Moral Education, 1984
Never mind that this approach is so narrow in scope as to allow one to take actions blatantly hostile towards others so long as those others can be constituted to be some kind of unknown, this is merely a repacking of a type of utilitarianism that puts the well-being of the self as one of the primary concerns of morality.  Few start the position of the good with the idea of what's good for me?, but we get to see it here.
     Worth goes on to reduce other NBC sitcom characters to being less worthy of feminist admiration than Elaine.  She characterizes Phoebe and Rachel from Friends (1994-2004) as a street performer and not especially well educated, respectively.  This is just factually wrong, where Phoebe is a masseuse and Rachel starts the show with a college degree (though not a post-graduate one) in some field related to fashion.  Worth calls Carla from Cheers (1982-1993) as "unattractive" (where I would have called her "brash" and "crude"), somehow making Elaine's appearance a boon for her feminism.  Still, Worth thinks that Elaine is too weak to be a feminist and is merely a product of feminism.

The Kramer

▸ Irwin returns to write of Kramer and Kierkegaard.  He misunderstands or misrepresents lines and scenes, and not always towards some valuable point.  He makes the point that Kramer is the only of the Seinfeld Four who could effectively survive without the others (p. 48), clearly ignoring that Kramer, left to his own devices, becomes the prime suspect in the hunt for a serial killer terrorizing Los Angeles.  But Irwin does not do a particularly good job of explaining the Kierkegaardian points he is trying to explain.  Given the length of the essay, this is what is most disappointing.  We learn nothing about what it means for Kramer to be living a life at the aesthetic level – and most of the other contributing authors make the point that Kramer may be the character most representative of trying to maintain some sort of moral semblance.

▸ Eric Bronson (Adjunct Professor of Philosophy at Berkeley College in New York) writes a short essay about Seinfeld and Tao.  I don't feel qualified to write on Tao, but I also don't feel that Bronson gave me enough of a sense that he does either.

▸ Mark T. Conrad (writer) does a decent job of explaining the Kantian notion of time and space – even though he is concentrating on the Platonic and Nietzschean concepts of time, understanding, and recurrence.  He also makes a few arguments about how a joke must be structured – that the punchline must be said (and not simply made obvious) – that I cannot abide.  He does have some idea of how to relate memory and the past to one's conception of the self, but much less than I could find in the typical cognitive psychology jounral article dealing with the same issue.  I respect what he was trying to accomplish with his essay, but found it to be lacking in proper focus and ultimately not making the points, but rather arriving at them when they are declared to be correct.

▸Jennifer McMahon (Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Centre College) gives a long examination of Sarte – one in which she essentially calls the majority of Sarte scholars idiots who have missed the obvious in reading him.  I HATE phenomenology; other than it allowing us to reformulate the Socratic/Platonic phrase "The unexamined life is not worth living" into the more meaningful (and helpful) the inauthentic life is not worth living, phenomenology primarily serves as an obstacle to using something other than observation to understand anything.

▸ My brief response to Kelly Dean Jolley's (Associate Professor of Philosophy at Auburn) essay on Wittgenstein was "Who the fuck cares?"  It is just another reminder of the endless bullshit that exists in the fields of philosophical inquiry, and Jolley presents it in such a matter that I must wonder why – except for lack of competition – one would endeavor to even take Wittgenstein and the conception of the commonplace seriously.

     There is more, but I guess I want to keep this from being seemingly endless.  Only a couple of the contributing authors presented both the philosophical concepts and the relation to Seinfeld in a clear manner (which wholly discounts the need to be entertaining).  Taken on the whole, the book is too simplistic to offer much in the way of insight about the concepts and too liberal with the interpreting the show to impress a fan.  I think there is something to be had with an approach like this, but it needs tighter editorial control and a better central theme.