Saturday, July 24, 2010

1, 2, 3 o'clock, 4 o'clock RABID MONKEYS!

***SPOILER ALERT*** (I'm not even going to try to keep this spoiler-free, so if you haven't read Catching Fire yet, proceed no further. Also, this is insanely long and rambling, so I don't actually expect anyone to finish it... I just needed to vent.)

For those of you who are as astute as my friend Stephanie, a quick reference to rabid monkeys is all it really takes to assume I'm referencing the second book in The Hunger Games series, Catching Fire. And for those of you who are wondering if the monkeys were in the 4 o'clock zone, they actually were (well, the 3-4 o'clock zone, but close enough).

Reading this volume of the series was a very different experience than reading the first book. In the first book, I, like Katniss, went into the Games not exactly knowing what to expect and not having a firm grasp on precisely what evils the Capitol was exacting on its citizens. In book two, everything is a lot more sinister, and while there's a whole lot going on that we know very little about, the swell of rebellion is known and clear, even if the particulars are kept tucked away by the powers that be. No one in the districts could be quite sure where the other districts stood in book one, but after Katniss staged a very public rebellion, essentially "sticking it to the man" on live TV, she became the unifying factor in a world where everything possible is done to keep people apart. While this whole concept is gripping and terrifying, I have to admit, I had a hard time reading it all. There were many times where I thought, "I want to know what happens, but at the same time, I absolutely don't want to know what happens..." I initially find that I'm as reluctant to reenter the arena as Katniss is and I find Peeta's response to the Quell annoying at best. While I understand that he was basically mandating what we all know needed to happen (as far as preparing for the Games is concerned), I'm a wallower at heart and I sympathized with Katniss and Haymitch. Hell, I'm just reading about all this, not living it, and I wanted to get completely shit-faced at the thought of going back to the arena. My reluctance to keep reading book two and the fact that I liked the first book more has nothing to do with the quality of the writing or the story, because in many ways, book two was far more accomplished and sophisticated than its predecessor. I think Collins wanted her readers to dread going back to the Games as much as the characters, and suffice it to say, she succeeded. It made it all the more clear in this reader's mind who the enemy really is and what needs to be done to take it down. In book one, I think Collins truly understood that readers would find the bloodshed and violence entertaining, just as the Capitol does. Even at the times when readers were afraid to see what would happen, it was still gripping to the bitter end. This is exactly the effect the Capitol hopes the Games will have on viewers, and as unfortunate as it is to admit, I was riveted against my better judgment. By the end of book one, however, the reader is as repulsed as Katniss is by the government's reach, in spite of the regrettable entertainment value.

What Collins does with the first half of book two is set up the Quell in such a way that even the thrill of competition is devastating to readers. The second book starts off with a slow burn. While the first book tosses Katniss and the reader into the games almost immediately, the second book allows enough time to go by that the suspense and foreboding are allowed to build. There's something even worse about waiting for the battle than actually facing it. Collins lets the reader stew in the sense of the unknown for chapter after chapter which in itself is unsettling. Nothing is scarier than the unknown and Collins uses this to maximum impact, peppering the relatively banal tour of the districts with an ever-growing sense of things to come (the banquets and parties interrupted by assassinations, and whatnot). I had a lot of theories about where the story was headed (and to a shocking extent, I was right on the money), but in terms of the Quarter Quell, I was way off. I thought perhaps the Quell would dictate that past winners had to choose the new tributes from their district (a fate worse than death for someone like Katniss), or that the Gamemakers might choose a family member of past victors. I honestly didn't want to even consider that Katniss would have to go back to the Games, but I was wrong. Oh, so wrong.

Although I can understand where the Capitol would want to throw Katniss back into the Games as a means of punishment and gory death, they had to know that she would fight and that in spite of their best of efforts, she might win again. To boot, what better way to unify the rebels once again than to have their icon fighting for her life and by extension, fighting against their common enemy? It was at this point that I started to think that Katniss might have some deep-seeded support within the Capitol. Enter Plutarch Heavensbee, stage left. The second he pulled out that pocketwatch with the disappearing mockingjay on it, I plotted out where I thought the story was headed. Unlike the first book where nearly all of my predictions were incorrect, I actually figured out the base story arc with surprising accuracy, even if I missed some of the finer points. After I heard about that watch, and noted how much time Collins spent on mentioning the watch, I assumed Plutarch was head of the resistance and that the Games were being designed in such a way that the rebels could unite against the Capitol. How that would play out, I still had no idea, and it didn't occur to me for a second that he was trying to give Katniss a clue about the arena, but the fundamental story trajectory was in the back of my mind from there on out. It colored my judgment of just about everything, including the other competitors and their motives.

The Quarter Quell was a very different kind of games than in the first book. One of the most powerful ways in which Collins changed the dynamics of the story in order to have the desired impact on Katniss and her readers was to make everyone familiar with the competitors. In the first book, the reader has a somewhat similar seat as the Capitol. We don't really know any of these tributes, and even though the things that happen are horrific, I can't say I wasn't entertained and chomping at the bit to see what would happen next. When you don't know the people involved, it's easy to seem them as characters and to ignore their humanity. Like anyone would, Katniss has an easier time dispatching of those she doesn't know very well. Even after the Games were all said and done, she didn't know the name of the tribute from District 1, in spite of the fact that she had killed him personally. It makes it easier to watch this kind of violence with anticipation and excitement. With book two, by stark and horrifying contrast, we know and love these people, and the only feeling I had in the arena was dread.

This arena is a very different animal than anything the reader or the characters has even encountered before. Holy hell, when she arrived in the arena and saw nothing but water in every direction, I literally said, out loud, on the bus one morning, "Well, that's colossally bad." The old guy sitting next to me looked like he wanted to ask, but thought better of it. Probably for the best seeing as my explanation wouldn't have made one iota of sense. For a fleeting moment I seriously had to consider the possibility that they'd be swimming the entire time. Mercifully, this wasn't the case, but it's a credit to Collins' ability to keep you on your toes that literally anything is possible. That's why, even though most of my predictions actually came true, I was still glued to the page because you can never be sure. Nothing is patent or obvious, and if you are right on the mark, it'll probably play out in a completely different way than you'd expect (once Katniss learned about the force field, I guessed that would be part of the rebels plan to get them out of there, but the whole thing with the rolls? And Finnick's obsession with counting them and inspecting them? I totally missed it). Okay, even though it's horrible and terrifying and all that, this arena is seriously badass. My theory is that the Capitol was afraid that the tributes might band together, so they decided to make the arena itself more of a threat to survival than all the other tributes combined. When push comes to shove, they wanted to make sure that certain berry-based shenanigans would be impossible this time around, and when you've got fog that turns people inside out (or whatever, I like to this of it as the Simpsons' wedge), even all the best intentions in the world might not save you. Of course, this runs the risk of killing both of them even more efficiently than the berries would have, but at this point, I think the Capitol would have been more than comfortable with that, and might even have planned on it. If you're trying to show the districts that even the mightiest among them cannot beat the Capitol, what better way to send a message than to have no one survive at all? Of course, I don't think the Capitol could have possibly foreseen everyone trying desperately to save Peeta. Oh, Peeta. Even with half the arena trying to keep you alive, you still managed to die for a few minutes.

Which brings me to a point where I must explore why it is that I can't love Peeta... I honestly have a hard time pinning it down. By all accounts, I should adore Peeta, but for various reasons, I just plain don't. I think first on the list is the fact that he's the damsel. He has good communication skills, and don't get me wrong, he comes in handy once in a while, but by and large, he's useless in the arena. When they're in the capitol, I find myself liking him considerably more, but the second they step off those silver disks into certain doom, Peeta is not the person I want by my side. Gale is. Or Rue. Or Finnick. Or Johanna. Or Wiress and Beetee. Or hell, even great grandma Mags. Every time Peeta is in the arena, I just keep pleading with him in my head, "Peeta, do you think you could you possibly go like 10 little minutes without getting hurt, or lost, or dehydrated, or ambushed, or killed, or whatever?! Please? Could you do that for me, buddy?!" Seriously, is there anyone in this second book who didn't save his sorry ass at least twice? I realize this isn't really his fault. He's the son of a baker. He never had to struggle to survive. He should never have survived the first games. Granted, he technically saved Katniss' life in the first book, but she saved his about 87 times in total, so I say they're more than even. I try to love Peeta, I really do, but at the end of the day, when we spend so much time in the arena, he's a burden. His skills lie elsewhere, in a less immediately threatening world. Throughout the entire first Games, I kept thinking, "Geez, if only Gale were here. Things would be going so much better." Indeed, that's basically what Katniss thinks throughout the first book. Although, to be honest, I don't know that Gale would have agreed to have played the game at all (which is another reason I love him). He refuses to indulge the Capitol, which is both awesome and dangerous. Peeta plays the game. Just not very well. At least not in the arena... Oh good god, I think my distaste for Peeta reached a fever pitch when they were trying to stealthily maneuver through the forest and Peeta didn't even realize he was essentially doing the Mexican Hat Dance of Come and Find Us! Being loud loud under those conditions is bad enough, but being too oblivious to realize it is just plain annoying. The only real way in which he helped them win the first Games was when he professed his love for Katniss in the interview. Again, when it comes to politics, he's someone I can respect and admire. If that declaration of love had really been a strategy, I think I would adore Peeta. But, he actually does love her. Which is irksome on a few levels...

First off, he loves Katniss without really even knowing her. At all. At the end of book two is when it really hit my why I prefer Gale so entirely. He's the only one who actually knows how Katniss operates, and he loves her for it. He complements her. Peeta doesn't. Peeta is slick with people, which is a tremendous skill to have, but he and Katniss are at odds. Opposites attract, whatever, blah, blah, blah. Peeta and Katniss just don't really work as a pair. Hell, they seem like unlikely friends to me, let alone lovers. The fact that Peeta went from basically never having spoken to her to professing his undying love was off-putting for me and for Katniss. Had it actually been a strategy for him, one that turned into something more, I think I would love him more. But as is, he's just this lovesick puppy who fell for a girl he hardly knew, and even after all they've been through, she's someone he still doesn't know. Some of the things he says to her and some of the things he does make me sure of this. The simple fact that he can't anticipate her reactions or read her very well confirms this in my mind. He just doesn't understand her and doesn't know how to make the two of them work as a pair... and yet, "You're all I have to live for! I can't live without you!" Blah, blah, blah. All his caterwauling just seems so thin and unrealistic. His level of devotion is the kind that needs time to build in order to be real and a boy's wayward fantasies about a girl he hardly knows just doesn't cut it for me.

Peeta seems entirely unaware of himself or those around him. Maybe it's that he grew up comfortably, but he just seems to sort of float through situations. Which isn't to say that he's inert, because he certainly isn't, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that he just goes along his merry way assuming he knows what's best for everyone else, even though he doesn't really know what he or anyone else actually needs. He has always had his own best interests (or what he believes to be Katniss' best interests--which all leads back to his own interests again) at heart. One of the primary reasons I don't love Peeta is that he has this almost macho sense of duty to protect Katniss. Uh, sweetie? I hate to break it to you, but she ain't the one in need of protecting. It makes it feel like he thinks she's weak, and for me, that points not only to a level of patronizing condescension that drives me absolutely batty, but also to the fact that he doesn't know her at all, and hasn't sized up his own situation in any sort of logical way. He has sized it up the way a protective boyfriend would size it up. Irrationally. At every turn in book two, as with book one, I think to myself, "God, if Gale were here, things would be better." He knows her. He trusts her. He knows that she can take care of herself and that he isn't a burden on her. That's where I find comfort. That's where I see love between two people. They trust each other. Entirely. And even though Gale is in love with her and she's in love with him (whether she can admit it to herself or not), they still have each other's backs in a professional way (for lack of a better term). If they were together, it wouldn't just be lovers, it would be a true partnership, and that is what I find endearing. While Katniss and Peeta are secretly scheming at almost every turn, Gale and Katniss are honest with each other. Neither Katniss nor Peeta believes he/she can trust the other, so they keep things secret and lie liberally. What a cute couple!

Gale and Katniss seem to be on the same page of the same book. They found each other because of shared priorities and circumstances. I think this is the foundation of where I find them so much more compelling as a pair than Katniss and Peeta. Even before the terror of the Games were inflicted on these people, Katniss and Gale found common ground and forged a relationship that is infinitely more dear and more intimate than anything she's ever had with Peeta. I have heard that people who share trauma often experience a sense of attraction afterward. And to be honest, there's certainly something to be said for shared pain. No one can really know what Katniss went through besides another tribute and I think this is the basis for Katniss' equivocacy. She and Peeta do share something that she and Gale never could. But as far as I'm concerned, the trauma sustained before the Games is at least as terrible, even if not so immediately deadly. Katniss and Gale had to keep their families alive in the face of starvation, disease, and death. I can't help but to think of them risking severe punishment and capture in an attempt to feed their little brothers and sisters while Peeta frosted cookies and baked bread. It's not Peeta's fault he never had to struggle to survive, and the fact that he gave Katniss bread is the most endearing thing he ever did, but until the Games, he never knew what life in the Seam really was. Katniss and Gale looked into the gaunt faces of starving people every day and did something about it. They risked everything to provide for their families, even going so far as to add their names to the reaping dozens of times so their siblings wouldn't have to. They didn't just save their families, they helped support an entire community. That's a bond I can truly respect and that is why I love Gale so much. I wish I could love Peeta (given how many more pages he gets to grace than Gale), but when stacking the two up against one another, I have my winner.

When I first started reading the book, and the sense of dread started to creep in, I didn't flip to the back of the book to make sure Peeta survives, I had to make sure Gale survived. Only after glancing at a few pages near the end and seeing Gale's name (in a speaking capacity) could I bring myself to keep reading. By sharp contrast, when Peeta went tromping headlong into the force field (in spite of Katniss' warning) and died, there was no panic in my mind. I don't know if part of that was the assumption that the author wouldn't really kill him off (because I think we all know, with these books, no such assumption can be made), but I was completely unconcerned. My reaction was more along the lines of, "Huh. Peeta's dead. Well that was... anticlimactic... Anyway, movin' on!" But of course Finnick knows CPR, because he's not useless. It's weird, because I genuinely don't hate Peeta, and quite frankly, in many ways, I respect him, but I simply feel very little emotional connection to him. Again, when we're not in the Games, I like him infinitely better. Telling everyone he loved Katniss helped save them in book one, and telling them she was pregnant was beyond awesome in book two. I literally laughed out loud on the bus where a different old guy looked at my funnily. But in the Games? Well, him getting offed by a force field just seems like a quick and clean way to get a horrendous burden off everyone's backs. It would have been fitting, in a way, that he would be killed in such a pedestrian fashion. Katniss, and here, everyone else on the planet, has spent so much time and energy keeping him alive that it would absolutely apropos for something like an invisible force field to take him down. Something that's practically intangible and, until the bitter end, seemingly unbeatable. The fact that Peeta didn't notice it is the other reason this would have been an appropriate demise. Peeta never should have survived the first Games and but for the extraordinary efforts of the entire population, wouldn't have survived the second Games. He isn't a fighter. He isn't a survivor. At least not in terms of the arena. He doesn't notice things. He isn't stealthy or silent. He isn't a killer. The fact that he knew exactly as much about the force field as Katniss did, but wasn't paying enough attention to see what he was walking into is vintage Peeta. He isn't aware of his surroundings enough to make a match with Katniss. Gale would have seen the force field. Gale wouldn't need saving. Gale isn't a damsel. I hate damsels. Especially damsels who don't know they're damsels. It's one of the major reasons I was so annoyed with the Twilight series. Bella was useless and needed constant saving. How annoying is that? Don't get me wrong, I love Peeta more than Bella (uh, by a long shot), but their basic constitutions are the same. Damsels. At least Peeta has worth. He does have skills. He has things to offer. Just not in the arena. I'm hoping that in the book to come, Peeta's real talents can shine and he can establish an identity that doesn't revolve around a girl he hardly knows.

I loved that Katniss thought the others were saving him because he'd be a good leader but instead they were forced to save him in order to keep they're real leader alive. Of course, if they had told Katniss about the grand plan here, things probably would have gone a bit smoother, even if it would have been an entirely different book. Seriously, not telling Katniss anything was a huge risk. At various points, she was poised and ready to kill Finnick, Johanna, Beetee, and even Peeta, her allies and the big lug she's been trying to protect all this time. God, imagine if she had killed one of them. She would have done so with good reason (I couldn't fault her logic at any turn), but the fallout would have been devastating. I put myself in her shoes and it makes me sick. The powers that be keeping her in the dark could have been devastating. She would have had to live with killing someone who was trying to help her. Killing a friend and ally. For someone like Katniss especially, for whom debt to others is a deep-rooted concern, that would have completely destroyed her. The fact that she had been lied to was enough of a blow.

That they didn't tell her the plan is galling at best. I understand why the characters didn't think they could tell her, and they're right, but at the end of the day, Katniss couldn't know because Collins didn't want the reader to know. And with good reason. She wanted us to question everyone's motives just as much as Katniss did. For lesser books and lesser authors, I'd be upset that the writer had to come up with some lame reason Katniss couldn't know so that the reader would be surprised, but Collins' reason is actually spot on, so I can't really argue. If things went pear-shaped, and there was every probability that they would, Katniss would be the first to be interrogated. If she knew anything at all, the capitol would find ways to get it out of her. No matter how strong someone is, there are always ways. While I can understand their motives in not telling her the truth, I think a little would have gone a long way. Few things suck quite as much as being duped. It's a unique combination of feeling stupid, humiliated, and pissed off beyond belief. Even though I don't think anyone is laughing, being conned always makes it feel like everyone is laughing at you or just simply thinks you can't handle the truth (which is patronizing on a global scale here). I can see where Katniss is absolutely face-clawingly furious. Being told, "This is why we don't let you make the plans," repeatedly doesn't help either. Even when it's for the best, being kept in the dark and put through something harrowing elicits the same response. Disgust. In other media, it's often presented as a test, and it always pisses me off. It's like that episode of Buffy where the council takes her powers away and tests her against Zachary Craylick. Or on MI-5 when they test the operatives with a fake biological attack. Or hell, even that episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation where Deanna Troi is testing to become an officer and they come up with some unwinnable situation for her to face. Finding out it wasn't real is devastating. That they didn't think they could trust Katniss was infuriating, even if I have to admit that I couldn't always trust her myself.

With this book, I was presented with the first instances where I couldn't totally trust Katniss' judgment. It's really not her fault at all though. Her thought processes were still clear and logical and she was given no evidence or reason to think otherwise. The difference with this book is that I figured out the grand plan way faster than Katniss did and in a way, that was kind of frustrating for me. As mentioned, the second I saw Plutarch's watch, I immediately thought to myself, "Oh my god, he's a rebel! He's going to help take down the Capitol!" Based on little more than a watch, there's no logical reason Katniss should have jumped to the same conclusion. People in the capitol used the mockingjay as nothing more than a fashion accessory, and wasn't Plutarch the be all and end all of what the capitol stood for? Quite frankly, had Katniss jumped to the same (albeit correct) conclusion that I had, I probably would have been upset that she was so trusting. She didn't trust Plutarch (or any of her fellow tributes), and there was really no evidence she should. She was given absolutely no good reason to trust anyone. Who am I to question Katniss for distrusting certain people? Just because I spent the better part of the book assuming I had sized people up correctly doesn't mean that I actually had. I trusted Johanna and didn't believe she had attacked Katniss, but Katniss couldn't see it. Again, it's hard to condemn Katniss' assumptions, even if they were wrong. I wasn't the one lying on the jungle floor bleeding. Indeed, as I was reading that section and thinking to myself, "Katniss, she's trying to help you!", my assumptions were more on mark than Katniss', but not by much. I thought Johanna was making it look like Katniss was nearly dead in order to draw out Brutus and Enobaria so that she could take them both out with axes. I thought she was using Katniss as bait. Turns out, she was simply removing the tracker. So, while my base assumption was right on the money, it turns out I was just about as confused at Katniss as to what was actually going on.

The same goes for Finnick. My darling Finnick. I had a good feeling about Finnick from pretty early on, but I couldn't have just as easily been wrong as right. Annie and I even discussed at length what Finnick's motives might be and who he really was. I had a feeling that he was one of the rebels and that his playboy ways were all for show. I somehow got the sense that he had a very deeply rooted allegiance to his people and that with District 4 if full rebellion, I trusted he was on Katniss' side for real. But, after hearing Annie's evidence to the contrary, it would have been easy to have gone either way. Quite frankly, after the first book, Annie and I were both right about the same issue, even though our assumptions were opposing. With these books, you can just never be too sure. I was so relieved to be right about Finnick though. I love Finnick. Yes, even more than Peeta. I love that Finnick adores Mags and does everything to save her. I love that he's this gorgeous playboy, but that his heart really lies with the poster child for PTSD back home. As the book wore on, my real concern was that Finnick wouldn't make it out alive. That's where a lot of my wrath over Katniss being lied to comes from. She very nearly killed Finnick because Haymitch and company saw fit to keep her in the dark. That would have been a tragedy on a number of levels. Good lord, why can't I love Peeta?! I know I've spent the better part of this rambling, ridiculous post explaining why, but somehow Finnick, who just showed up and might be trying to kill our heroine, is immediately more endearing than Peeta is. Seriously, what is wrong with me?

I'm summing this up, I promise, but I just need to discuss one more major point. If the rebels' plan was to take out the force field (I was right!), then why weren't they a lot more concerned with keeping Beetee alive? I realize that they needed to keep Katniss, the very symbol of the rebellion, and Peeta alive (by burdensome extension), but Beetee seems to have been the true key to all of this and he very nearly died! The rebels had to know that the wire would be there for Beetee because Plutarch made sure of it. With this in mind, wouldn't it have made more sense to have risked everyone's lives to save him? And Wiress, too. She's the one who figured out the mechanics of the force field in the first place. Was that Johanna's job? To keep them alive? Was she just lying when she said that she kept them alive for Katniss? I just don't know what to think...

Collins does a hell of a job keeping you on your toes. Even when I'm pretty sure of something, I'm just as sure that I might be totally wrong. She does a wonderful job of keeping things in the first person and only giving us Katniss' experiences and perceptions. Having to wonder at people's motives just as much as your heroine is exhilarating and frustrating and a wonderful way to read a book. I'm excited and terrified for book three to come out in a few weeks. I really hope I find a way to love Peeta because I really believe Collins fully intends for her readers to love him. I honestly think that outside the arena, I'll be able to appreciate him a lot more. Collins has been alluding to him being the voice of the rebellion for a good long while, so I trust he'll really come through for us. I always like him best when he's playing the role of politician and master manipulator, so maybe a love for Peeta is in my future, even if I can't say that's a real prediction yet. My first actual prediction for Mockingjay? I think Effie is going to be the key figure in the grand finale. To have someone who is so seemingly shallow and devoted to the Games and Capitol come through in the clutch would be completely awesome. I can't wait! Second prediction? That I won't be able to stop myself from glancing at the last few pages to make sure Gale survives. I'm pathetic. I know it.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

CIA Ugly

It pretty much goes without saying that USA holds most of the cards when it comes to basic cable programming these days. As I've mentioned before, they seem to have a creative formula that's foolproof and enough scheduling savvy to turn even mediocre ideas into ratings success. USA's latest venture is Covert Affairs, which is basically Alias Lite (no really, there's pretty much no other way to describe it) fulfills all the standard requirements and garners a spot on USA's slate right after White Collar.

To illustrate just how very Alias this show is, during the first few minutes of the pilot, Annie Walker (aka the new, but not improved Sydney Bristow) is subjected to a CIA polygraph test wherein the polygraphacionalist (you know, one who administers a polygraph... as per the Annie in my office, although I'm pretty sure the Annie on the show wouldn't know the difference) asks her various questions about her last boyfriend. Based on the dreamy flashbacks and the indication that things didn't end well for the pair, I voiceovered something like, "I met the love of my life, but then SD-6 had him killed." To which my mother responded, "Wait, what? Who did SD-6 kill?" That's right, her quibble wasn't with the sudden existence of SD-6 on the show, that just made good sense, but that she wasn't paying enough attention to know that the guy in the flashbacks was Annie's boyfriend. That's how much this show is like Alias. My mother didn't even bat an eye at the thought that SD-6 was back on the prowl. Although she didn't seem to take much issue with my references to Sandy Cohen either, so maybe it's just her.

Anyway, Covert Affairs is anchored (to the extent possible) by Piper Perabo, who plays the aforementioned new CIA recruit, Annie. Having only ever seen Perabo in Coyote Ugly and a lackluster episode of House, my confidence wasn't exactly bolstered when embarking on this new series. To say that I was apprehensive would be akin to saying Heidi Montag had "a little work done." She didn't strike me as the kind of person who could carry a series (especially this kind of series), and to a certain extent, I think I was right. In Perabo's defense, she actually does a decent job. Her performance was even and committed, and she managed the vagaries of the spy missions with more grace and ease than expected. There just wasn't anything all that special about her performance or the character she's trying to bring to life. Where Jennifer Garner brought depth, emotion, and power to the role, Perabo brings mostly lip gloss. I realize this show isn't exactly trying to be Alias here, but it's impossible not to compare last night's premiere to the Alias pilot, and quite frankly, when you're going up against that, you're going to lose. The first episode of Alias was a pulse-pounding, emotionally jarring thrill ride from beginning to end with very real peril, intrigue, and mystery around every corner. It was a real drama and Jennifer Garner skillfully managed the full weight of a serious spy thriller. With J.J. Abrams at the helm, it's little wonder that Alias was such an immediate success. It had one of the best pilots I've seen and in terms of setting up a world that's alive and engaging and instantly endearing characters to the audience, it's near the top of the list. After only the pilot, I knew I would be watching the entire series. That's a lot to live up to, and while I'm sure Covert Affairs is trying to be its own show, the comparison is unavoidable, and ultimately unwinnable, which is a real shame for USA's newest cash cow. Had I never seen Alias, I think I would have enjoyed Covert Affairs more because I wouldn't be judging it in terms of another, better show from start to finish.

It honestly wasn't a terrible pilot, but I'm certainly not chomping at the bit for next week either. The pilot sets up Annie's new job at the CIA where she's managed by the likes of Sandy Cohen and his wife (a great actress who's name I couldn't remember, in a fairly thankless role) and where she befriends the Marshall Flinkman of the group, a character named Auggie (played by the delightful Christopher Gorham). Lest you think this show is just like all the others, Auggie is blind, so it's totally different! Only it isn't. I have to give them a few points for at least trying to add something new, but the fact that Auggie is blind is played as nothing more than a gimmick. This isn't a serious drama, so the full weight of losing your sight when a roadside bomb explodes in your face can't really be explored to the fullest and is merely alluded to. To boot, Gorham doesn't play blind very well, which was distracting, and the fact that he's blind pretty much only infringes on his ability to drive. He walks around with what can only be described as a sonic screwdriver (a la Dr. Who) and has a braille interface for his computer. It was nice to see a character overcome a difficult situation like that, but it didn't seem like a stirring character trait so much as a random feature, like brown hair or left-handedness. To boot, he's very young, so I don't know how long ago it was that his character lost his sight, but the show has taken the Daredevil-style, super blind guy approach where Auggie's other senses are heightened. While I don't doubt that your other senses would become keener, he appears to have become a savant. He can detect the subtlest perfume (and break it down by component) and can determine someone's weight and athletic ability based on how softly they tread. That's pretty impressive given the fact that he couldn't have gone blind more than a couple of years ago. Whatever. It's a TV show on USA, so I'm happy to go with it. The one thing I couldn't quite figure out though, is that when the writers are illustrating how keen his perceptions are, he hears Annie walk out of the room and notes, "Gotta love those kitten heels." But she wasn't wearing kitten heels. She was wearing stilettos... Kitten heels are usually only about an inch high and aren't generally sexy at all. Not like 4 inch stilettos. So I can't decide if the character just doesn't know the difference (which doesn't seem likely), if the writers were pointing out that his skills aren't flawless (which is even less likely, given his other superhuman observations), if there was a wardrobe change sometime between when the line was written and when the show was filmed (which doesn't make sense because you'd never put a sexy CIA vixen in kitten heels over stilettos), or if the writers are simply a bunch of guys who have no idea what kitten heels are and thought they were making Auggie seem badass (and a character who's attracted to Annie) for being able to determine what kind of footwear she had on based on only sound (I think we have a winner). What I really can't understand is why no one on the set pointed this out to them. Not that any of this really matters, but it the fact that I stewed about this for the better part of the rest of the pilot speaks to the pilot's relative lack of intensity. I'm more engrossed in footwear than the shooting and care chases... Not a good sign. Espeically for someone like me, who doesn't even care about shoes. Although apparently I care more than Auggie... This is all beside the point, however, because he's far and away the most likable character on the show. I have to assume he'll settle into the role more as the episodes progress, but so far, it was a bit uneven.

Speaking of uneven, in spite of Perabo's better-than-expected turn as CIA newbie who gets caught up in something much bigger than she suspects, her performance had its ups and downs. In her defense, I think it has more to do with the writing than anything else. Her character, Annie, is purportedly a world-traveler with a knack for languages. After her whirlwind romance comes to an end (with the cryptic disappearance of prince charming), she decides to join the CIA. Lucky for her, she's apparently good at everything which the writers work diligently to inform us of at every turn. She's still green, however, so I guess that gives the show some room for her to grow, but by the end of the pilot alone, she's taken an investigation over completely and receives some sort of medal of commendation. Where do you go from there? I thought this was all too convenient and a tad ridiculous, but the ending of the pilot alluded to something much much bigger going on which helped explain why this relative no one would be so immediately embraced by the agency, in spite of her lack of experience. I'm hopeful that ongoing plot regarding why she's been recruited and sent to the field so swiftly will help give the show some depth, because the A-plots look to be pretty standard, predictable, and largely inconsequential to the ongoing storyline.

Speaking of this week's A-plot (gotta love the lazy segues throughout this sucker), if this is going to be largely procedural (meaning that the A-plot is going to be the star of this show), I sure hope future missions are more interesting and original than the one in the pilot. There was really nothing original here, but it allowed for lots of shooting and chases and stuff, so who really cares, right? Well, that would be me... in the caring department. Maybe I've just grown blase with the genre or maybe I'm just stuck on Alias, but the A-plot didn't seem to carry any real weight (although if it were a situation that did carry real weight, they'd have had an even more difficult time justifying putting a rookie in the field). Without any concrete consequences there isn't any pressing gravity to make it suspenseful. As mentioned, I spent the better part of the show musing about shoes. It wasn't terrible or anything, it just didn't really grab me. Add to the the unfortunate array of accents, the ridiculous beyond ridiculous assassination plot, and Annie's general lack of intimidating-ness and I wasn't really blown away. Again, I think once this show finds its feet, it could present more engaging A-plots. Till then, I guess we'll just have to try to care about some random non-Russian guy and the vague possibility of intel that he might be able to provide...

In spite of the weaker elements in the writing, Perabo actually did a pretty decent job. Unlike so many others, she seemed pretty comfortable with the foreign languages and didn't speak in stilted, stumbling syllables. To determine just how good her accent was, I consulted with Milana, my office's resident Russian. After watching about a second of her and her "Russian" contact speaking, Milana noted, and I quote, "American! Her accent is bad. But not as bad as his." According to my expert, there's no universe in which anyone would ever be convinced that either of them was Russian. I also asked Milana about a major plot point in order to determine just how lazy or accomplished the writing might be. The contact calls Annie "kiisu" several times, which, it is later determined, is not actually a Russian word, but is used only in southern Estonia, and is an uncommon term for "kitten" or "kitty". Annie figures out that he's not actually Russian using this knowledge. As per Milana, that's totally plausible. Apparently, "kissu" doesn't exist in Russian. She had never heard it before. The word for kitten in Russian is "kisa", which is actually pretty close... She was poised and ready to call her Estonian mother to verify, but we just looked online. Evidently, what the show lacks in basic knowledge of women's footwear, it makes up for it in knowledge of obscure Estonian vocabulary. Nice.

Aside from the A-plot and the ongoing story arc about Annie's role in the CIA's plans, there's also a Francie in her life, a sister played by the fabulous Anne Dudek in a less than fabulous role, who will act as the "real life" angle of the show. Hugely predictable and fairly boring, I hope to hell the writers find a way to make her personal life more exciting. They've already set up a possible love triangle between Annie, Auggie, and another CIA agent, but so far, it looks like we'll be subjected to her sister's matchmaking and dogooding whilst she hides her real life from friends and family. Sounds vaguely familiar... I just kept hoping a Will Tippen would present itself, but the nosy reported in this ersatz Alias is a woman who's currently plaguing Sandy Cohen rather than the hunky friend of our leading lady. Of all the places to screw up the model, did you have to go after my darling Will Tippen. Ugh.

All in all, it was a decently made pilot that's clearly aiming for fun and inconsequential thrills. It's a show that will be very easy to watch, requiring very little emotional investment. As is USA's wont. It's a network with low commitment shows that somehow garner high commitment. I'm as big of fan of an easy so to watch as the next person, but I always prefer a show that requires more of its audience. I did enjoy Covert Affairs to fair extent, but I'm not on the edge of my seat for more and find myself wishing USA would branch out in terms of genre and tone. Wish as I might, it's pretty hard to argue with their success. While Covert Affairs didn't hook me immediately, USA shows in general tend to settle in over the course of the first season, so maybe it will really find its feet as the show continues. Really, Burn Notice is the only show that had me hooked after only one episode. Psych took several episodes, In Plain Sight took four, and White Collar took about half a season. Here's hoping Covert Affairs follows suit.

Pilot Grade: C+

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Ladykillers

I hate crime procedurals.

That's as good a place to start off as any.

As much as I wanted to give TNT's new pilot Rizzoli & Isles a fair and impartial review, the show was unlucky enough to be the violent, predictable straw that broke the crime procedural's back. It's no secret that I've always had issues with procedurals in general (what can I say? I find A-plots that don't matter next week to be kind of waste-of-timey) and that only a scant few manage to grace my regular rotation, but I always gave them a shot as I would any other show. Oftentimes, the ones that miraculously made my list were the ones that at least attempted to break the mold a bit. Castle is unabashedly light-hearted and fun (and, well, has Cap'n Mal), Life hollowed out its own space in the genre with the bizarre, the surreal, and the Damian Lewis, and Criminal Minds (which I only just started watching and am enjoying considerably more than I expected to) takes a specifically psychological approach to an old routine. The point is, it's rare that this genre really strikes a chord with me and I think it's about time I really evaluate why that's the case. It's not really Rizzolo & Isles' (hereon out referred to as RI, because there's no way in hell I'm typing that title again and again) fault that it was the show that tipped me over the edge, so take my critique for it with a grain of salt. I simply couldn't help myself... After only a few minutes in, I just couldn't shake the thought, "Good lord, exactly how many different ways are these shows going to come up with to kill women?!" That notion colored the rest of my perceptions of the show and got me seriously reevaluating my estimation of TV and humanity at large.

We'll start with the show itself, then veer off into god knows where...

RI is pretty much your standard crime procedural, although with a Cagney and Lacey bent to it this time around (especially in the Providence area (and yes, I realize that wasn't funny and probably didn't even make sense, but I'm running with it). It follows rough and tumble Detective Jane Rizzoli (played by Angie Harmon) and ultra-feminine, Carrie Bradshawesque medical examiner Maura Isles (played by Sasha Alexander) as they team up to use their unique skills to solve the unsolvable blah, blah, blah. We all know the routine. The writers tried to shake things up by having two women at the helm and by having this particular pairing of professions, but at the end of the day, they didn't seem to know what to do with two female leads (and didn't use these characters to the fullest) and ultimately couldn't conjure a whole lot of compelling reasons why a detective and an ME (medical examiner) would spend all that much time together professionally. I found their personal relationship a lot more interesting than their professional partnership, quite frankly, which for a procedural, is a bit off-kilter. Don't get me wrong, the MEs on Castle and CSI and delightful and pivotal and all, but the 2 1/2 minutes they see of each episode is a timeframe that makes sense--not like what we have here where the ME is basically half the investigation. I'm not totally sure how they're going to pretend that makes much sense, but I'm guessing they'll just gloss over the illogical aspects (much like the thrilling conclusion of the pilot).

Honestly, the episode itself was fine. It met all the genre conventions and at least tried to dip its toe into something new, but ultimately fell a bit flat for me. The pilot centers around a series of murders committed by a Hannibal Lector-y murderer and his apprentice (because that's what all serial killers seem to do these days, train a protege). These murders hit home with Rizzoli in particular because she was very nearly killed by this guy some years earlier. Although the murders involve the deaths of married couples, the basis of the investigation is focused on the women. Ain't it always. The show really could have set itself apart in the genre by looking at the psychological dynamic of women investigating the deaths of women (and to a timid extent, I think the writers were leaning in that direction), but they ultimately begged off and opted for a more standard approach. As my frustration with women being the victims on these shows 90% of the time started to boil over, the "standard approach" started driving me crazier and crazier, and this was one of the few times when men were included as victims! Again, and to the show's credit (I suppose?), most of my issues with this show can be applied to the entire genre. Hell, this is the kind of program that has been CBS' bread and butter (or should I say, luminol and mass spectrometry) for the past decade, but that only makes it more and more frustrating.

More to point, the writers seemed to really waste an opportunity here to offer viewers a different dynamic. The relationship between R and I is presented as a close and protective friendship/partnership, but when the mere hint of attraction could be surmised by the viewer, the writers swiftly point out that these women are straight, very straight, and to prove that they're straight, they have both of these strong, confident women idiotically and coquettishly pursuing some random FBI guy (Billy Burke). At one point, Harmon even hangs a lantern on the possibility by dismissively and uncomfortably asking Isles, "Does this mean you're attracted to me?" Her tone was off-putting, but to be expected given the creative approach. Heaven forbid they leave their sexuality ambiguous, open-ended, or above all, gay. The thing that bothered me the most about this was the fact that them being lovers would have made the show so much more interesting. As is, you have your standard buddy cop drama, but, you know, with chicks! So it's totally new and different! Yeah, not so much. I think having some sexual tension between these two women, especially in a genre that focuses almost entirely on men's sexual violence against women, would be compelling. In the show's defense, I suppose there's still room for it to go there, but they seemed pretty hell-bent on closing that possibility as soon as possible (wouldn't want to offend middle America, you know). Ugh. The writers just didn't seem to know what to do with these two women and ended up falling into the exact same conventions that are so often the genre's pitfalls. The thing that really kills me is that as near as I can tell, the head writers are women themselves. Such a disappointment. And before you cry foul, I'm not in any way saying, female cops=lesbians. That's not it at all. R and I just have an obvious butch/femme dynamic going and I think the show would have a lot more to work with if they left the possibility out there for these two to be lovers. Quite frankly, I'd be saying the same thing about any pair of people who share this dynamic. When people work together in a stressful environment, it lends itself to a romantic attraction whether the pairing be man/woman, woman/woman, man/man, man/car (I think we all know there was something special going on between Michael and Kitt), or whatever. The possibility of attraction is what makes these shows more interesting and keeps viewers coming back for more (particularly someone like me, who is more interested in over-arching storylines than throw-away A-plots), and I don't think that should be relegated to strictly male/female pairings. It's obvious that chemistry between the two leads is what makes shows like Castle, Bones, and going old-school, Moonlighting so successful and I think that dynamic could be applied across the board, regardless of gender. I'm one of those people who keeps hoping House and Wilson will finally hook up and is pretty sure Butch and Sundance were lovers. There's just a certain level of intimacy and trust that comes with a partnership that lends itself to a romantic pairing. On RI, they just seemed so determined to make it clear that there's no funny business going on, we swear it! that I couldn't help but sense some unwarranted homophobia going on, especially given that this is a situation that needed a more intriguing relationship at the center. At least that would have given it a more original spin.

It's hardly worth going into the details of the pilot because I promise you, you've seen it all before, and the bulk of the drama was created by tossing around the idiot ball, which never receives a charitable review from yours truly. In the plus column, the pilot was more suspenseful than most of this style because the writers put Rizzoli right at the center of the murder plot. This made for a much more gripping pilot in some ways, and yet didn't do the series any favors in others. I don't know what it says about the genre, the show, or society, but this pilot seemed entirely focused on showcasing women as the vulnerable element. The show actually does shine a light on the difference between men and women when it comes to crime, but then doesn't know where to go with that. I think maybe if this had been a season finale instead of a series premiere, it would have worked. As is, what little I know of these characters, I can't really process. They threw way too much backstory at the viewer and yet somehow managed to tell us basically nothing about who they really are as people. When Rizzoli is locking up her apartment, her brother insists on staying with her, but she declines saying, "If I were a man, this wouldn't even be an issue." To which her brother responds, "Yeah, but you're not a man." At this point in the show, I didn't know what to do with this conversation. I don't know Rizzoli (or any of these people) well enough to know if she's being unreasonable or he's being ridiculous. I think the show was trying to make a point that Rizzoli is strong enough to take care of herself, but not actually knowing this character myself, I just didn't know if that was true or not. But then I had to ask myself, why should it matter? Why should a woman staying alone be any different than a man staying alone? I think safety in numbers is a good idea whether you're male or female and am usually annoyed by the "I don't need to be babysat" whinging of characters who are in genuine peril, whether it's a 90 lb. woman or a burly man. Apparently they don't watch TV themselves or they'd know that that's the quickest way to get yourself killed. As this was only the first episode, it's hard to nail down creative intent, but I'm hoping the writers were making a commentary on the fact that women are targets and that that gives most women at least a back-burner of fear in their everyday lives. When Rizzoli laments, "I'm just sick of being afraid," I believe it. We're living in a world where walking to your car in a grocery store parking lot makes people nervous. It's a very sad commentary on reality, but very true. Granted, Rizzoli's fear is much more intense and founded, but I think the general sentiment applies across the board.

I think the difference between men and women when it comes to this genre (and in society, sadly) is the way in which each is treated as a victim. While I'm not speaking of sex crimes exclusively when it comes to these differences, this is where the crux of the issue is found. According to an incredibly reliable source (okay, it was an episode of CSI), over 90% of sex crimes are committed by men against women. While I don't have the real source on that, I think it's supported by anecdotal and empirical evidence. Everyone knows women who have been molested, otherwise assaulted, or raped. So why are shows that portray these kinds of horrible events so damn popular? Why the hell do people (and I include myself in this group, to an extent) find it so fascinating to see how many horrible and perverse ways there are to torture and kill someone? What is wrong with us? As I mentioned, I recently began watching Criminal Minds. I think one of the reasons I'm enjoying it more than I expected to is that they base their plotlines on actual criminal profiles. At one point, one of the characters explained to the sister of a victim that the sick and twisted bastards of the world are usually cowardly men and they almost always prey on the most vulnerable people in society, i.e. women and children. I appreciated the fact that they acknowledged this fact rather than simply having some perverse murder scene to gawk at. Why then, do these writers keep coming up with more and more obscene scenarios for women to be defiled and disposed of? Why do audiences love it?

It seems to me that the treatment of women as victims is so normal that writers in this genre feel they have to find new and disturbing ways to one-up their predecessors in order to keep the genre interesting. I tend to find it more infuriating than tantalizing myself, but based on the viewership for this kind of programming, I'm in the minority, and it mostly boils down to how standard it is for women to be the victims. Men are predatory, and when it comes to prey, it's a lot easier to take down someone who's half your size and provides some sort of twisted sexual gratification. I can hardly decide if the writers are simply channeling the grim reality of things or if that's quite simply what audiences are comfortable with. I remember seeing the first few minutes of an episode of Law & Order:SVU where an entire dinner party had been slaughtered. As one character casually and off-handedly noted that the women had been brutally raped, one of the forensic guys made the horrifying realization that the men had been raped as well, a fact which made the investigators physically uncomfortable and a little unnerved. The fact that it's a simple matter of fact that this is how women are treated but that it's a disturbing and shocking surprise that the men were treated the same way is truly unsettling. Shouldn't the horror be equal? Is the rape of a man somehow more horrible than that rape of a woman? For the crime procedural genre, having a woman tortured, raped, immolated, defiled, dismembered, and eviscerated is essentially par for the course, and that is an unbelievably grim indictment of the genre and of society. It's basically saying that women are supposed to be victims, men aren't. At least not in the same way. Plenty of men get killed in horrific ways, but the treatment of these victims by the genre is quite different. As far as I'm concerned no one should be victimized, but I also acknowledge the social mores that have led to this TV genre and this genre's relative comfort with killing women. As grim and twisted as it is, I have to acknowledge some morbid interest in this kind of show as well, albeit to a lesser extent than most.

Whenever I get into an argument with a guy (usually Ammon) about how the world is a scary, awful place, I'm often met with something along the lines of, "The world really isn't that bad. The news programs and TV shows you see are only a skewed, minuscule proportion of what really happens." On the one hand, to a certain extent, he's right. On the other hand, and to a much more terrifying extent, he has no idea what it's like to go through life as a target for no other reason than basic physiology. A woman can take every conceivable precaution in the world to avoid dangerous situations and it won't change the basic fact that she's female, and therefore, a target. Maybe that's a concern that these shows are tapping into. Women are not only the usual victims of violence, but they're subjected to a more horrifying and enduring kind of violence and nagging fear. Even if what I hear on the news really is a small sample, the very fact that it happens at all is cause for unease. It has gotten to the point where I actually find myself sympathizing more with a murderer who targets men. I can hardly help but think he's not as bad a guy as someone who targets women. How twisted is that?! That I could give anyone a pass based on the demographics of their victims? I don't know if it's hearing about woman after woman get raped and murdered, but when it comes to a killer who goes after men, I almost feel a certain respect for him. At least he was willing to take on someone his own size (and odds are it didn't include a prolonged, traumatic sexual assault prior to death). That one kind of murderer is preferable to another should be ridiculous, but that's the sensation I have when the victim is male. At least it wasn't some poor woman who was tortured to death. You see what you've led me to, crime genre? It's seriously screwed up, but I'm just so sick of hearing about women being the victim... I've gotten to the point where it's actually kind of a nice change of pace to have a man at the center of the murder investigation. God, that's sad.

What does all this have to do with Rizzoli & Isles? Ultimately, not a whole lot. It was honestly a decent pilot, well-paced, and suspenseful, even if the writing was pretty lazy (and cheesy) when finding ways to drive the plot. Geez, the pilot for this show was one of the few instances where men were victims as well, so I should be giving them more credit than less.. Oh, don't get me wrong, the murders involved forcing the husbands to watch as their wives were raped and murdered, then the women's bodies were posed in the forest like some sadistic trophy, lest you think male and female victims were afforded equal treatment for once. Again, I think it says a lot more about society than anything else that this is the norm. I can't help but to think that this kind of exposure on TV doesn't exactly help the situation though. The more normal it is for violence to be exacted against women (and everyone else, for that matter) and the more accustomed people are to that notion, the more blase and complacent people will become. At the same time, people have always been fascinated with the macabre, myself among them, so where do we really draw the line? I can't quite understand why people find this kind of show so engaging, but for me? They'll never be at the top of my list.

Poor R & I. I'm not sure I was in a state of mind where I could give it a fair shake, really, but after about 700 shows exactly like this, I was at a tipping point. I'm sure this was a likable dramedy with adequate performances and decent characters, but I'm just so sick of this same routine that I'm having a hard time committing to this. Maybe it's that I watched The Glades right before this one (in which a woman is murdered and fed to crocodiles), or maybe it's that R & I genuinely wasn't great, but I had really had enough. If I had to choose a new crime procedural of the two, The Glades would win, but that's only if I had to. At this point, even the awesomest crime procedural to ever grace the television landscape would probably be a total turn off.

Pilot Grade: C
Society Grade: D-

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Here kitty, kitty...

I'm entirely too weary to write one of my big, long, presumably painful to read posts about So You Think You Can Dance, so I'm going to do my damnedest to keep this short.

First off, the title of this post refers not only to Billy's awesomeness last night, but also Cat's. Way to call the judges out on their total bullshit! Ha! More on that later...

Here's how I'd rank the performances last night (and yes, I'm way too lazy to look up the choreographers or exact styles):

Billy--Macavity
Ashley--Ninja Hip Hop
Lauren--Cha Cha with Pasha
Robert--Ken and Barbie Number
Kent/Lauren--Contemporary Prom Number
Kent--Hip Hip
Adechike--Bollywood
Ashley/Robert--The Dreaded Quickstep
Billy/Jose--African Jazz
Jose--Contemporary
Adechike--Bartender Jazz(?) Number

Was that all of them? Here's hoping. With Alex being out of action, my counting took a hit. Speaking of Alex, well that was unexpected! I think he was just about everyone's pick to win, but now? I seriously doubt he'll be able to re-enter the competition. If his Achilles (or, as Nigel would say, his "Ack-uh-leez" tendon is truly ruptured, he won't be dancing again anytime soon. Poor guy. I hope this doesn't cause any permanent damage. I mean, it's one thing to have to drop out of a TV dance competition, it's quite another to have your entire career on the line. Ouch.

BILLY

It seems like the judges and I have been at odds quite a lot this season, but with Billy's awesomely awesome turn as Macavity, I couldn't agree more. It's the best Billy's ever been. It may simply be my Broadway leanings showing themselves, but I absolutely loved it. It was really the only piece of the night that I really wanted to go back and watch again immediately. It was nice to see him get a piece that didn't totally suck this week. Seriously, a Tyce routine, then crump, then a generic contemporary routine? Yeah, no thanks. He needed something dynamic and technical and he aced it. The girl he was paired with was wonderful as well. Very smooth, and yet, very sharp as well. I liked it infinitely better than the African Jazz routine. Don't get me wrong, Billy did a fine job, but given the choreography that didn't really grab me and the fact that he was stuck with Jose as a partner meant that the routine as a whole kind of flopped. Here's hoping he gets something decent next week.

ASHLEY
Well, it's about time she got (had?) to do something other than her own style. I honestly didn't know what to expect, but was pleased to see her rock the house with that Hip Hop routine. I didn't think she'd hit that hard or that her moves would be so tight. Very well done, and that's coming from someone who isn't generally a huge Hip Hop fan. The Hip Hop this season has been SO MUCH BETTER than last season though, so maybe I just forgot how good it could be. As for the quickstep? Well, she survived. And actually did a pretty nice job. Her carriage was much better than Robert's and seemed a lot more comfortable with the style than he did. Now let's never speak of it again...

LAUREN
This was the real surprise of the night. She actually managed some sex appeal in her Cha Cha! I'm honestly shocked. I loathe her as a person, but I agree with the judges that it was like watching a completely different dancer on stage. Her movements were fluid and her partnering with Pasha was surprisingly good. Her routine with Kent was also very well done. When I saw the costumes, I literally said to my mom, "Oy, it looks like we have an 80's prom on our hands..." Little did I know how right I was. Kent was the real shining star of the piece, and to be honest, I didn't notice Lauren all that much, but she did a fair job. Now if we could just not let her speak and never have to watch a clip package of her ever again, maybe she and I could be friends (and by "friends" I mean, of course, that I don't actively want to set her on fire).

ROBERT
I have had some qualms with Robert here and there, but arrogance was never the issue. I don't know where people got that impression, but I certainly never saw it. Although his Ken and Barbie number with Kathryn really could have used some cleaning up (it was a bit sloppy here and there), I still really liked it and thought Robert totally committed to the piece. For once, Kathryn's partner wasn't getting upstaged by her, so that's really saying something. He survived the quickstep, but only just barely. His carriage was pretty bad and his posture looked awkward. I liked this quickstep more than most quicksteps though because of the music. It reminded me of Labyrinth and made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, so they basically could have fallen off the stage and I'd have been fine with it. :)

KENT
Like I said before, he was the real powerhouse in his and Lauren's number. It seems odd that this is the most mature he's looked, and it was a piece about a high school prom... Whatever. It worked. He can do a lot better than Lauren though, so let's hope the romance was purely dance driven. I actually quite liked his Hip Hop routine as well. It was one of the mellowest Hip Hop routines I've ever seen though, and I think that's the main reason Kent was able to rock it. Very smooth and controlled. I was afraid he was becoming this season's Evan Kasprzak, so it's nice to see he can actually dance. "She's the man I'm supposed to be, but can't!" Heh. I still like his clip packages more than the actual dancing, but the gap is narrowing.

ADECHIKE
First off, as near as I could tell, there wasn't any actual dancing to speak of in that bartender routine, so I can't really judge it. Honestly, that was the lamest thing I've seen on this show in a good long while. The fact that Tyce had nothing to do with it is a shock. Also, I'm with Mia on this one. He didn't even kind of embody the character, and when there's no dancing to fall back on, you have to embrace the character. Yikes. I actually liked his Bollywood well enough, even if he did dance it like it was a different style. Hats off to Cat for calling the judges on their favoritism!!! Adechike's Bollywood number was a million times better than Jose's, but Jose gets goo-goo eyes and praise and Adechike gets raked over the coals?! Say what?! You get 'em, Cat! Honestly, I find myself hating Jose more for the fact that the judges cut him so much slack more than because of his actual "dancing."

JOSE

Speaking of dancing in quotation marks, Jose is pretty terrible. Oh sure, he's gotten better than he was, and his contemporary routine wasn't as trainwrecky as expected, but that doesn't mean it was good either. Seriously, his partner was doing 96% of the actual dancing and Jose was just kind of there to support. He was the pole to dance around, essentially. Oy. I hope he goes home soon so I don't have to hear how adorable he is anymore. Oh, and that African Jazz routine? Well, Billy was doing his best to save it, but Jose is quite simply not a dancer. I pity the poor choreographers who have to keep coming up with ways to give this kid something he can actually do. Geez, I never knew how truly amazing and wonderful Legacy was until now. I don't care how adorable you are if you can't dance, Jose!

Anyway, last night's routines were better overall than recent weeks and I have to assume that that has more to do with the total lack of Tyce than anything else. Here's hoping Tyce and his chinstrap beard fell into a well or something.

Who should go home? Jose (!)
Who will go home? Probably Robert :(

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Nasty, Brutish, and Short

For those of you who've read even the first 50 pages of Suzanne Collins' gripping trilogy, The Hunger Games, you know just how telling and immediate the title of this post truly is. After completing the first volume this weekend, I had a hard time deciding between the title from Hobbes above and one from Mr. Willy Wonka, a quote which zipped through my mind almost constantly as I read. "The suspense is terrible... I hope it'll last."

Ultimately, Hobbes' win was a matter of length, not more or less veracity.

Annie and I polished off the first book of the series this weekend and let me tell you, the fact that she doesn't already have the second book (and thus, we can get started on it immediately) is more than a little irksome. ("Ugh. Good one, Annie..." in disgusted-with-the-world Gwyneth Paltrow voice.) :) I'd throw our friendship to the wind and just start without her, but believe you me, it's the kind of book that's best to read along with someone because invariably, you'll need to feverishly discuss every minute detail... as Annie and I have done, when we're not... you know... working...

I'm going to try to keep this spoiler-free as possible, but it won't be easy. Collins pretty much keeps you on your toes at every turn...

The Hunger Games is set in a brutal future where a pair of adolescents (one boy and one girl) from each of 12 districts is compelled to compete in a bloody battle royale that only ends when one sole competitor survives. For me, it kind of felt like Ender's Game meets the savage gladiatorial games of the Colossuem. It's bloody and uncompromising pretty much from the very first page. I don't know exactly how she did it, but Collins managed to set up a universe for her stories, called Panem, in such an effective and immediate way that I felt completely immersed within minutes. The setting she paints is enough like our current world that it's relatable, but far enough removed that the horrific things that happen aren't so galling. In several ways, the sociopolitical make-up of Panem reminded me of Firefly, with wealthier central cities prospering at the expense of other territories. The capitol is an oppressive regime that compels the Hunger Games and entangles Collins' characters in its web, essentially exploiting its people for sport.

Along with an engrossing universe to explore, Collins sets up an equally engaging cast of characters that are diverse and individual. The story is told by Katniss, a strong, cunning 16-year-old girl from the poorest of districts, who's had to grow up in an environment where starvation is rampant and a premature death is a crushing near-inevitability. Unlike so many other novels told in the first person (particularly when that person is a teenager), Collins manages to keep the voice consistent throughout and gives the reader her perspective solely without sacrificing description or exposition. I'm not generally a huge fan of first person narration, but for this particular story, it's not only gripping, it's essential. So many elements of the story are predicated on the reader not having all the information that to have had it any other way would have been disastrous. It quite frankly would have been an entirely different reading experience. Another brilliant narrative move is that the story is told in the present tense. These aren't the musings of someone looking back on her life and telling stories. It's that that something horrible "happened." Something horrible "is happening." Like, right now. Run! It gives the novel a terrifying sense of immediacy whereby you don't know what's going to happen in the next paragraph, let along a hundred pages down the line. You don't even know if the narrator herself will make it to the next page. Indeed, this is the kind of book where if you happen to stumble across a part where nothing of an edge-of-your-seat or nail-biting nature is occurring, you better stop reading, even if it's mid-chapter, mid-page, or even mid paragraph, because you might not get another chance. You never know what kind of peril the next sentence will bring. For this book, "stopping point" can generally be defined as any brief moment where imminent death isn't staring a character directly in the face. Collins doesn't pull any punches here (nor does she pull any eviscerations, neck-snappings, impalements, etc.) and you can't afford to get stuck in the middle of it.

Although many of the book's strongest elements are based in life-and-death suspense, the novel does much more than that. The characters are all well-developed and particular. Collins does an excellent job of building characters that you genuinely care about and who each have specific strengths and weaknesses, a fact which is embraced fully in the arena battles. She has taken the time and care to look at each character's background and make a logical argument for where his/her skills and hindrances would lie. She makes a point that considerable size and brute force are not enough to win the games and showcases characters who are cunning and sharp as well. Katniss is a heroine I connected with almost instantly. She's not a moody teenager who thinks the world revolves around her. She grew up in hard times and stepped up to the plate. She's smart. Genuinely smart. A lot of novels will tell you that a character is smart, but Collins shows you that Katniss is smart, which is a lot more convincing. She's clever and patient, attributes which more than make-up for her small size. She's one of the few characters I've come across in a long time that didn't make me want to throw the book across the room. So often a writer will have a character do something incredibly stupid in order to further the plot or add some drama and excitement. Giving someone the idiot ball is a sign of lazy writing and it drives me absolutely crazy. In The Hunger Games, such tactics aren't employed, and quite frankly, aren't necessary. There's more than enough excitement going around without silly plot devices. Katniss thinks things through before she makes a move. She's a character whose actions I don't have to worry about. All the things that we readers are thinking when reading a situation ("Don't go upstairs!") are the same things she thinks. For once, I was presented with a character who sees a situation the same way that the reader would, tries to determine if there's any possible way her actions could affect her adversely, and proceeds accordingly. Her caution and patience only add to the suspense, but are also kind of comforting in a way. Horrible things will probably happen, but not because she did something unbelievably stupid. It was a truly lovely change of pace to have a heroine I could really count on, which reminds me of something else Collins does that I love. The fact that Katniss is female is incidental. This isn't a book harping about the genders being equal. It isn't necessary, because here, the genders quite simply... are. Which actually makes this book all the more about equality. The fact that she's female hardly gets a mention, and that says more than the most blustering prose ever could in my opinion.

It's the immediate love for Katniss and the rest of the characters in the book that may lead to some tears for readers. When Annie told me she had started the book and that she was in tears by page twenty-four, I hardly believed her. I didn't think an author could set-up a situation so quickly and completely as to elicit tears so soon and simply chalked it up to Annie, well, being Annie. Well, I showed her. Annie was a goner by page twenty-four, but I'm made of sterner stuff than she. [Insert shot of me breathing on knuckles a couple of times, then rubbing knuckles against shirt collar.] Oh yeah, I made it all the way to page twenty-five before I teared up like a little kid whose ice cream just rolled off the cone. Bad to the bone, baby. That's me. Seriously, the simple blush of rebellion on the face of the oppressed hit me to the core. A silent show of solidarity was all it took. The sociopolitical aspects of Panem will likely be explored more so in coming volumes, but so far, even the most seemingly minor acts of sedition cause tension and unease among the ranks. I can only imagine where we're headed in the next two books. Even when you start to think that things might be actually work out, the underpinnings of the society in which she lives uproots any calm that manages to sneak in.

This series looks at a lot of social constructs and absurdities and points them out with blood-soaked conspicuousness. That the people of Panem relish watching the gory deaths of teenage combatants harkens back to Roman times, but puts it in a more modern, more disturbingly familiar context. I know TV and I know that the tactics employed by the state in the interest of entertainment are absolutely accurate and terrifying. As repulsed as I was by the audience's reaction to kids slaughtering each other, I couldn't help but feel complicit. I was as rapt and enthralled as they were at times. It's a sad and disturbing commentary that you can't escape, even in your own mind. I can't wait for the next volume, and yet I'm a bit terrified to see what Collins has in store.

To say that every single aspect of this book was perfect would be inaccurate, but as a whole, I was riveted from cover to cover. Even the aspects of the book that didn't totally resonate with me served a very specific purpose. There is strategy in everything, even basic emotion. There were certain aspects that at first glance seemed convenient, but upon further inspection, just make sense in terms of this universe, in terms of human nature, and the audience mentality. Even the aspects that didn't entirely gel for me or seemed a little convenient never rose to the level of true annoyance. It wasn't like the end of The Lord of the Rings when the eagles finally show up and all I could think was, "Good god, where were you 1100 pages ago?!" And it was never like Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince when suddenly Felix Felicis ("liquid luck") arrives on the scene and saves everyone's lives. Geez, I spent the better part of that book thinking, "Well, that sure would have come in handy five books ago! And four, three, and two books ago for that matter!" That was really the only time in the Harry Potter series that felt way too convenient and even a little lazy. Don't get me wrong, Tolkein and Rowling did their damnedest to justify why the eagles and the elixir didn't show up till then, but the justifications fell a little flat. Even the most seemingly convenient elements of The Hunger Games ultimately worked for me and never felt forced or simplistic.

At the end of the day, The Hunger Games keeps you on your toes and challenges your assumptions. Indeed, when rabidly theorizing about where the novel would lead, Annie and I came up with opposing assumptions, and in a way, we were both right. You just don't know what to expect most of the time and even the elements that I saw coming played out in unexpected ways. I was almost afraid to keep reading at times, but mostly, it boiled down to, "Can't... read... fast enough!" Annie and I both loved it and haven't come across a book that held our attention so unwaveringly in a very long time. She and I don't always agree on books (I loved the Ender's Game series, but she certainly didn't), but we definitely found common ground here. I would recommend it to just about anyone.

Oh, and don't let Stephanie Meyers' endorsement on the jacket of the second book turn you away as so many Oprah endorsements might. I have to assume that after writing the drivel that is the Twilight series, Meyers read The Hunger Games and kept thinking to herself, "Oooooh, this must be what real writing looks like!" She's also a huge Joss Whedon fan, so it seems her tastes far exceed her talents.

In summation, and to appropriate Mr. Wonka's general sentiment, when it comes to The Hunger Games, the suspense is terrible... and I simply can't wait for more.