Stake Land (2010)

     Sure, the impetus behind calling the film Stake Land (2010) seems to be to cash in on the success Zombieland (2009); the awkward announcement of a vampire-ridden America as "Stake Land" feels not so much self-aware as aware of the zombie-themed flick.  Stake Land also fails to explain how Mister (Nick Damici, who also co-wrote the script) knows so much about the various types of vamps while the general population breaks down rather easily into victims, huddled masses, and cultists.  But even with its flawed storytelling – and seeming to borrow from Kevin Costner's The Postman (1997) – the movie is rather enjoyable.
     The story is straight forward, with a few complications along the way to draw it out.  There are the vampires – and everybody should be afraid of them.  There are people trying to survive – they are very afraid of the vampires, and often their victims.  There are a few hunters – Mister being the one featured in the movie – who are unwilling to wait out the end of the world in quite desperation.  Then there are the religious crazies – claiming a brand of Christianity that has the vampire plague as God's means of cleansing the Earth for the True Believers and what I presumed to be their New Jerusalem – and they are the real bad guys.  They are the ones who take the situation from 'oh, this is bad' to 'well, the President's dead and all of the cities have been infected'. 
     It may help to think of Stake Land as a road movie with lots of dangerous, bloodthirsty obstacles.  The buddy-buddy element may play a little false (Connor Paolo's Martin is too slight a character to be any kind of equal to Mister), but there is a believable dynamic between the two main characters.  As one might expect in a horror film, not everyone is in it for the long haul.  But most of the deaths and slayings have a purpose beyond mere horror convention.  The action is a little more comedic than I would have preferred, especially given the more mature themes director and co-writer Jim Mickle is striving to explore, but it is effective.
     Damici plays Mister in a way that makes one think he could be Harvey Keitel's younger brother.  There is menace and sensitivity at the same time, almost all the time.  Paolo keeps Martin emotionally restrained through most the movie – which makes sense given his traumas.  The rest of the cast is serviceable, never overshadowing the leads or drawing away from the immersion in the setting.
     I say give Stake Land a chance if you haven't seen it.  This is the kind of independent horror that comes around too infrequently; we certainly don't see it from the studio films.  It may not be a cinematic classic, but it certainly isn't the dreck that constitutes the majority of horror offerings.

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886)

     Should I admit that I have seen Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde (1995) with Tim Daly and Sean Young multiple times?  Or that my enduring image of Edward Hyde comes from The Impatient Patient (1942), a Warner Bros. Looney Tunes cartoon?  I guess that is my way of saying that while I have been immensely familiar with the idea behind The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886) – and I knew the title well enough to have thrown a fit when a contestant on Jeopardy! (1984-present) was credited with a correct answer while leaving "The Strange Case of" off the title – I had never gotten around to reading it.
     Robert Louis Stevenson's novella is rather brief, and it does not disclose much of the activity of Edward Hyde.  Instead, it functions as a precursor to the modern investigative thriller with a lawyer as the protagonist (see the works of John Grisham or Scott Turow).  Stevenson does not escape the device of having a character recount a lengthy story – the final two chapters function in this manner – but he doesn't lean on it like a crutch or drain the suspense away from the tale when using the device.  For the most part (and maybe this isn't surprising to those who have read Stevenson), he writes in something very similar to a modern style.
     However, I did learn that Hyde is almost always misrepresented in film.  Stevenson represents him as a hirsute man of diminished stature and bearing, and younger in appearance as Jekyll had not fed his selfish, malignant character as he had filled his nominally good self with a life well lived.  Movies tend to make Hyde into a gigantic mass of muscle and rampaging destruction.  Stevenson seemed to picture him as a slight, though powerful man with animalistic gait and savagery.  Hyde represented the seed of evil given form, and as such it was necessarily smaller than the whole from which it sprung. 
     I liked this story.  It was far better than the film versions I have seen, though I will freely admit that adapting this faithfully would result in a slow moving, cerebral movie.  Stevenson doesn't quite invest it in the investigation of morality or self-control to which I became accustomed in my philosophy or psychology classes, but I would be wrong to expect it from him.  There is a compelling investigation here, and the threat of what madness (of a sort) can inflict on both the self and others.  Ultimately, I feel stupid for not having read it before now.

Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011)

     I think most people look at Planet of the Apes (1968) and see little more than the talking gorillas, chimpanzees, and orangutans.  It would certainly explain why every film after the first ventures more into the realm of silly science fiction and away from intelligent social commentary.  Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011) tries – very hard, in fact – to honor the legacy of the original film and subsequent important canon.  At the same time, it manages to keep the science as soft as possible and the action supremely PG-13, thus making it clearly identifiable as a popcorn flick.
     One of the things that struck me was how unmemorable most of the human characters were.  Sure, they are important to the story, but I doubt I could have named more than two of the characters after having seen the movie (defaulting to recognizing the actors or the stereotypical role they had been given).  Now, this is largely a problem with my attention to the details of the film, but I feel that if more attention had been paid to crafting the characters I would have been much more invested in them.  As so much of Rise of the Planet of the Apes is centered on the humans, I kind of feel that director Rupart Wyatt dropped the ball here.  For a blockbuster, that isn't a problem – just get to the CGI apes and the havoc they can cause – but given the cult status and social commentary of the original, I was hoping for more.
     I liked most of the CGI (Caesar's pants being a constant source of why? for me) and thought that it did a great job of seeming realistic without ever threatening to look real.  The chimpanzees had a range in looks that seemed to borrow from several films – Jumanji (1995) for Casear, Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes (1984) for Rocket, and Tim Burton's horrible Planet of the Apes (2001) for Koba – and helped give them character and distinction.  I think I would have enjoyed the action sequences much more were I not so violently pro-human; hey, I've seen the world the apes have and I know how it ends.  I'd rather root for the humans, bad eggs and all.
     I would have liked a more realistic approach to the science in the movie.  I was also supremely disappointed that Dr. Hassline neither appeared nor merited a mention (if there was one, I missed it).  He is such an important figure in the canon of the series that it felt wrong for him not to be included.  On the other hand, there were so many callbacks to the first film (including a very unfortunate lifting of the original's most famous line) that it was clear the writers Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver were willing to be faithful to that which had come before (something Robert Orci and Alex Kurtzman were unwilling to do for 2009's Star Trek).  I think I only found one moment where I was thinking, that's not how it is supposed to happen...well, two if one considers how the movie ends.  Come on, the plague is supposed to hit the pets, people.
     The story's multiple storylines –one concerning the recklessness of human enterprise and the other about Ceasar's recognition of his duty to his tribe – don't exactly blend in seamlessly, but they don't detract from one another.  I feel that there wasn't enough real to root for the humans, but as a fan of the original, I am solidly predisposed to believe that the worst human world is better than the best ape one.  Will Rodman (Franco) is a weak character who endeavors to do good things, including saving the world from Alzheimer's.  Without his father, Charles (John Lithgow), there is no real connective tissue to allow Will to advance the story.  Indeed, Charles and Caesar seemed a much more compelling set of characters and Will the plot device to move them along.  Caesar's own story, escaping the cruelties of the human world, probably deserved its own film, but I doubt that the casual fan would have understood it without a set-up.
     For whatever reason, I didn't feel a need to see this in the theater.  Maybe it was just wariness about how Burton's version had turned out, or maybe the casting of James Franco as the human lead.  It certainly didn't feel like watching it at home robbed it of any scope or majesty.  That is not to say that the movie didn't look good, because it did.  But it didn't try to be grand (and maybe that is a good thing given how grounded the "Apes" movies were in the cinematography).  Maybe that is something best to be saved in whatever final conflict is set between man and ape in a future film.  Rise of the Planet of the Apes may be the third best Apes film – I'd still put it fourth, but I have a soft spot for Beneath the Planet of the Apes (1970) – and it doesn't feel like an embarrassment.  I am going to count it as a win for honoring the legacy.

Dreamers (Original Text - Part Ten) (1997)

     I actually remember the dream that inspired this section, and suspect that I would even if I hadn't loosely adapted it for fiction.  Not a lot of dreams stick with me for years.  I don't think I did the original justice, nor do I think that I really got the elements I wanted to introduce as an author.  Still not horrible.  Not without problems, either.  I have let a couple of very problematic sentences stand as written in testament to that.
     There was a lot that was supposed to follow from this section, but I think it will have to be in a completely separate story as I can't see it making the cut in the rewritten Dreamers.  The entire angle of J.B. as the wannabe author goes nowhere and shouldn't have been introduced.  But it is there in the original text.

X

     It was a nice house.  The problem was he couldn't remember it being his.  It was Victorian design he thought.  He and his mother lived there.  Maybe.  It looked like the house in the movie "Casper".  It was just J.B. and his mother.  The inside was dusty and vacant.  As he wandered through it, he could not find a single piece of furniture.  No matter which room he ventured into his mother was just within earshot.
     It was a gloomy, depressing house.  J.B. couldn't have been happier that his friends would soon be over to take him out for the evening.  It felt like late fall or early winter, but there was no snow on the ground.  Cold wind blew dead and crisp brown leaves across the front yard.  The sense of death was scary.  His older brother's old sort-of girlfriend, from the days of high school.
     She was like a shadow lurking in the halls just outside of whatever room J.B. was in.  When they shared the halls, she would shrink back, almost into herself.  From time to time she would actually find herself capable of asking where J.B.'s brother was.
     "Where's Magnus?  When will he be back?"
     J.B.'s older brother, Magnus Bradley Binghampton, never went by Magnus.  Their grandparents called him Gus.  He himself went by Brad, but this girl always thought she was closer to him because she called him by his God given name.  J.B. himself always had trouble dealing with that.  Just as much as he did with calling her "Debbie".  He remembered it because she was blonde and the older brother wasn't all that into blondes, so each one stood out.
     "I don't know when he'll be back," J.B. snapped when she asked the question three times in a row.  He didn't think that the older brother actually lived in this house.  It didn't feel like it.  There was a certain air that he would have lent to the structure, and it wasn't there.  How fitting that he had managed to leave his high school baggage behind him, and tragic that J.B. was stuck with it.
     J.B. was off towards the front door before the eerie doorbell even rang.  He knew it would be a flock of friends, males and females, that imagined sense of belonging without attachment that could only be fostered in high school.  It was like a movie from the Seventies depicting the Fifties or early Sixties.  It wasn't real, but since it happened, it had to be considered real.
     He couldn't even remember the first six people who came through the door.  The seventh he remembered because he lost his virginity to her, but he couldn't put a name to the face.  That was probably just as well.  His closer friends were toward the back.  He saw some faces that seemed out of place, but they were good friends.  Just as Larry Pudenski was coming through the vast double doors everything seemed alright.
     "I didn't expect you to bring a small army."
     A strong gust of wind blew one of the heavy doors off its hinges. J.B. caught hold of the handle as it was blown inside the house.  He barely managed to keep his feet on the ground.
     "I certainly didn't expect that to happen."
     J.B. and Larry managed to put the door back in place, and everyone quickly had their fill of the house.  J.B. announced to his mother, who was in the house, somewhere, that they would all be leaving.  The entourage had already gone outside and most were standing by or leaning up against Larry Pudenski's ugly orange truck.  The only thing missing was for about a quarter of the guys to be wearing letterman's jackets.  That would have made it perfectly high school.
     Outside with them was Debbie.  She was next to what looked like a metal bike rack, but there was no reason for one to be at the house.  She was dressed well for the cold weather.  She had a loose knit hat and a scarf to go with he dull synthetic coat.  Her face was red from the cold and the wind.  She was a ghost to the group.
     "Where's Magnus?"
     "I don't know where he is."
     "When will he be back."
     J.B. made his way over to where she was standing so that the conversation was between just the two of them.  No one else was paying attention, but it was wise to use good form.  This close he could tell she had been crying.  She shivered with the cold.
     "I don't think he's coming back."  J.B. paused to let her take in that statement.  "You know, he's probably off with Chloe.  The girl he's in love with."
     "Oh."  She looked as though she had never even considered that to be a possibility.
     "Yeah, so you probably shouldn't wait for him," J.B. offered.
     "Oh," she said again, her face blank.  Then it filled with emotion.  "But I love him so much, I can't imagine him not wanting to see me.  Where is he?"  She went on and on.  In short order her words became little more than a cry with different tones.
     She fell into J.B.'s arms as he reached out to her.
     "Listen, —"
     But she just kept crying.
     "You'll be fine."  He gave her shoulder a squeeze.  She stopped crying.
     "Thanks, J.B.," she said.  She stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.
     He responded by quickly kissing her.  At first he only kissed her lower lip.  It was an odd sensation, but she didn't resist.  He kissed her again and got it right this time.  It was passionate in its trappings, but driven by nothing.  She felt warm in his arms.
     "Oh, J.B., I love you so much, ..."  She gave the same list had just given for his brother.

     *     *     *     *     *     *    

     Now awake, J.B. was torn between calling his brother and telling him about the dream, or using it as the launching point for his latest story.  He chose the latter.  His brother could read about it later.  J.B. had an awful of habit on not following through on things.  He dropped out of Med School in the sixth week.  He had no trouble making it as an EMT.  It was a shorter, safe route.

     J.B. fancied himself as being the next James Joyce.  He purposely copied Joyce's style because it was the one he admired most.  So long as there were praises to be sung for Joyece, there had to be so echoes to be passed along to J.B.

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.

The A-Team (2010)

B.A. Baracus, the New Hercules?

by Silence Do_nothing

     I'm curious if ancient Greeks moaned that their dramatists' penchant for adapting previously told tales of the gods reflected a lack of creativity, in the same way that modern audiences complain that all the film industry's remakes points to a Hollywood devoid of ideas. Which isn't to say that I didn't also roll my eyes at The Smurfs (2011) live action trailer, but that was from a strong sense that its only purpose could be as parody fuel for Robot Chicken or Family Guy, not a particular disdain for television-to-movie adaptations. I imagine the Athenians also made their share of stupid garbage. It's just that these would be far less likely to make it through the millennia than the classics which have survived to modern times.
     Falling somewhere between The Smurfs and Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound in the quality of adaptations spectrum is The A-Team (2010) (in fairness, I haven't experienced either of the two I have selected for the extremes, so I can't know for a fact that The Smurfs isn't a work of unparalleled genius which single-handedly vindicates Western culture or that Prometheus Bound couldn't have benefited from the Titans employing a speech pattern which substitutes derivations of the word "Titan" for half of their vocabulary).
     Having only caught bits of the TV series while visiting relatives as a kid, most of my knowledge about the original comes from spoofs. Besides the famous theme song, the only things I directly remembered were that there was an old man with a cigar, a crazy guy, Mr. T, and a black van. I'm as susceptible to 80s nostalgia as the next guy who spent many of his childhood days entranced at the Toys R' Us G.I. Joe section, internally debating for a good hour which figures to spend his saved allowances on (the lineup for 1986 was so strong that I am only half-joking when I state that their cardbacks were works of unparalleled genius which single-handedly vindicate Western culture. But I've also argued that Halloween 3 (1982) was better than the John Carpenter original, so this may merely confirm that I have no shame. Or maybe taste. Or maybe both. I think someone yelled "Or talent." That's hitting below the belt), but this particular title didn't harken back to any warm and fuzzy memories for me. It would have to stand on its own merits.
     Whatever the medium, the plot for an A-Team adventure is never the most important thing in the world, but neither is the excessive amount of snarky fluff I type out, so fairness demands that I give at least passing mention of it. A mission for the Alpha Team, a close knit band of elite soldiers stationed in Iraq, gets them caught between competing conspiracies of rogue CIA agents and private military contracting company Blackforest. Wrongfully convicted of stealing U.S. mint plates, they must use every ounce of daring and skill to clear their names and regain their honor. The story could have worked just as well if it had the A-Team falsely accused of illegally downloading thousands of mp3s, so long as it put them in plenty of precarious situations that allowed each to display his particular talents before Hannibal broke out his victory cigar and catchphrase of "I love it when a plan comes together."
     Fairly inventive set-pieces allow The A-Team to avoid that fun-sapping staleness of many other offerings in the genre which feel like the action has been done a thousand times before. I can't recall the last time I've seen a plummeting tank harness the recoil of its cannon to safely steer its descent or port shipping containers serving as props in a giant shell game to set up an ambush. Team leader Hannibal's (Liam Neeson) intricate planning is intercut with the mission itself, making it easier to follow. None of it was a Matrix sized leap forward, but they were cool twists executed well. Given the relative scarcity of good action movies compared to good dramatic films, I maintain that action is harder to create and, therefore, more impressive (I realize this probably qualifies me for nothing more than curator of a hypothetical Michael Bay Museum of Cultural Artifacts).
     The sense of camaraderie and the casting for the team made them a fun bunch of characters to get behind. Never-mind that Liam Neeson is the only native English-speaking actor who can't do a convincing American accent. He still maintains a commanding presence which fits Hannibal. Lady's-man Face (Bradley Cooper) redeems his narcissistic arrogance through an almost religious faith in his compatriots ability to rescue him from certain doom. Oddly enough, an actor with the nickname of Rampage, the professional MMA fighter Quinton Jackson, produces a more congenial version of a character whose initials are supposed to double for Bad Attitude. This relatively quick to smile or chuckle B.A. Baracus is actually somewhat easy going when you consider how much grief he puts up with. I actually preferred Jackson's take on the character, as his is less cartoonish than having him perpetually scowling and looking for an opening to tell someone to "Shut up, fool!" The one thing that truly scares the brave men of the A-Team isn't the enemy, but what insane and insanely talented pilot Murdock (Sharlto Copley of "District 9" fame) might do. He is the wild card in Hannibal's meticulous plans. Even beneath all the crazy is a deep loyalty to the team and the possibility that he consciously exaggerates his nutso persona to gain an advantage. In contrast to the typical lone wolf action hero, they're all well aware they need each other.
     Going a more lighthearted route for the villainous PMC Pike was a good call. More times than not, these types of films seek too heavy a mood for the bad guy. It ends up clashing with the fun of over-the-top action or falls flat and ends up seeming cheesy. Actor Brian Bloom is good at playing up the humor without turning the character into a joke. Pike isn't shy about his disdain for incompetence and lets it out at inopportune times, like when he scolds and lectures a would be executioner about the proper terminology for the suppressor (definitely not silencer) and instructs the bumbling adversary how to attach it to the gun meant for his head.
     The end result of the movie is something better than just a guilty pleasure for people wanting to re-live childhood memories. It would be nice if all adaptations could be as good as Christopher Nolan's "Batman" movies, but even if they just reach The A-Team level consistently, moviegoers wouldn't be so suspicious of Hollywood's cinematic recycling.
     I think there are many creative works which were failures, but still had potential in more skilled hands. Junk culture is long on cool ideas, but short on talent. It's like inventors requiring engineers and technicians to bring their ideas to fruition.
     The A-Team was closer to what I imagine to be the quality of Prometheus Bound than what I assume to be that of The Smurfs. Whether A-Team characters will be part of the lexicon thousands of years from now is another matter. Maybe if a renowned writer pens an epic poem about B.A. Baracus venturing forth on a perilous quest to rescue his beloved black GMC van from an automotive graveyard.
     One more thing. I was completely joking about only half-joking about the cardbacks from the 1986 G.I. Joe action figures being works of unparalleled genius which single-handedly vindicate Western culture. Of course I wouldn't place them in the same league as Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" or Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. I just thought it might be a more entertaining way of getting across that I thought they were awesome than simply writing "the 1986 G.I. Joe action figure cardbacks were awesome." I can only hope that I'm not thought less than serious about completely joking about half-joking.

Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)

     Maybe I just want to like Tom Cruise.  I was never a huge fan.  My favorite characters in Top Gun (1986) was Goose, followed by Wolfman (the latter because I like his cal sign).  There are several of his films that I have seen and wondered aloud during them, why was this made? – Far and Away (1992) immediately comes to mind.  But Cruise does have a lot of charisma, and he has built enough good will with me from Taps (1981), The Outsiders (1983), Rain Man (1988), A Few Good Men (1992), and The Firm (1993) for me to give some of his films a chance.  While I am sometimes extremely disappointed in a Cruise movie – see Vanilla Sky (2001) – I am usually satisfied with his performance.
     That brings me to Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011).  I know I saw the first Mission: Impossible (1996) movie in the theater and found it to be entertaining, though not especially kind to those who were fans of either TV show (I missed the 1966-1973 one, but was on-board for the 1988-1990 reboot) as it made a villain out of the iconic hero Jim Phelps.  I am sure I saw Mission: Impossible II (2000), but I could not relay any information about it.  That led me to avoid Mission: Impossible III (2006), but having seen most of it on cable TV, I kind of wish that I could erase any memory of the whole thing. 
     So why give the new movie a chance?  In part because in not calling it "Mission: Impossible IV", I was confident that there wouldn't be any assumption on behalf of the film-makers that the audience would be heavily invested in the history of the franchise.  Sure, Ghost Protocol doesn't run away from that which went before, but it is largely a self-contained story that does its best to allow the viewer to learn all the necessary information from a handful of dialogue exchanges.  There are plenty of nods to the previous films and on-going story of the many travails of Cruise's Ethan Hunt (and familiar faces popping up), but Ghost Protocol is really just an excuse for lots of death-defying stunts, earth-shattering explosions, and chase after chase after chase.  But no masks, and in that regard, it was a bit of a disappointment as a Mission: Impossible film.
     The plot?  The IMF team has to stop the end of the world; apparently no other agencies needed to be brought in on the matter.  Still, I don't think anyone goes to a Mission: Impossible for the story.  There is one (sort of).  An IMF agent on the run gets killed, and only one man can get back the sensitive information he was carrying – Ethan Hunt.  But Hunt managed to get himself put in a Russian prison and an IMF team has to break him out.  Cue a very large, extended fight scene lots of effects.  The ad hoc team has to get some information out of the Kremlin, but – oops! – somebody beats them too it and decides the best way to hide the fact that the information has been stolen is to blow up the Kremlin and blame the U.S.A. (and nobody even mentions that Chechen rebels would be more likely culprits).  This causes problems and the IMF effectively gets shut down, leaving Hunt and his team to climb skyscrapers with special gloves, run through sandstorms, and be general menaces in India before letting the villain coordinate a nuclear strike against San Francisco.
     The IMF – at least in the movie franchise – always has the best intelligence available, but puts its agents into severely dangerous situations without much hope of things working out correctly.  That continues here, but it seems that the writers cannot think of another reason for the over-the-top and repetitive action sequences.  However, Ghost Protocol has a good sense of humor about how ridiculous most of it is.  It isn't laughing at itself, but it doesn't pretend that any of it is plausible.  The only problematic part of Ghost Protocol involves an interminable sequence in an automated parking garage where director Brad Bird seems to not realize how ridiculous the whole thing is.  Super badass agent Hunt somehow cannot overcome the strength of good Swedish genes with his fantastic skills and years of training (never mind that nobody else can stop him...ever).
     As a big screen actioner that doesn't ask the audience to do too much thinking, Ghost Protocol succeeds.  It is a fun movie, and Cruise is likable throughout.  His supporting cast largely defers to him – Jeremy Renner seems more than happy to let the big dog eat up the screen time and dominate the scenes – but he is giving enough to allow them to flesh out their characters even in the Ethan heavy scenes.  I don't think Cruise is that invested in the character (it felt like a well-acted paycheck), not when compared with some of his much earlier roles.  But he was in need of a box office success, and like Eastwood used to go back to Dirty Harry, Cruise returned to Ethan Hunt.
     Ghost Protocol is not cerebral fare, but there is something to be said for reliable, predicted action movies.  In that regards, it is a rousing success.  And it sets up for continued entries in the franchise that are not the missteps that Mission: Impossible III was.  I was not disappointed with Ghost Protocol, but I didn't expect more from it than it was going to give.  It looks good on the big screen, and that is where it should be seen.