Vic and I saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull on Monday afternoon. When it was over, Vic declared that while George Lucas had not repaid any of what she feels he owes her, neither did he owe her any more because of it. That’s high praise from her!

My own feelings are mixed. It’s certainly enjoyable, and no one involved embarrasses themselves. It’s not Raiders of the Lost Ark, but it’s also not The Phantom Menace. I’d say that it’s roughly comparable to the other two Indy flicks. But it wasn’t worth the 19-year wait.

My belief–and I know that Vic will back me on this–is that the biggest obstacle Indiana Jones faces is a power-tripping George Lucas. While it was hard enough syncing up the work schedules of Lucas, Harrison Ford and Steven Spielberg, it’s been widely reported that the main reason it took so long to make another Indy installment is George’s stubborn insistence that the film had to revolve around the eponymous crystal skull.

Indeed, one big problem with the film is that Lucas thinks we care about the damned skull. (He also thinks that Raiders worked so well because viewers were invested in the Ark of the Covenant. He’s wrong.) Whereas the entire backstory of the Ark was covered in a single scene, we get a ton of exposition about the history and properties of the Crystal Skulls. George, we got that it was about aliens the moment we arrived in Area 51. And it really doesn’t matter: the point of a “MacGuffin,” per Alfred Hitchcock, is that it really has no point beyond motivating a story’s characters.

Set in 1957, Skull wisely takes Harrison Ford’s advanced age into account. And I give them credit for not trying to make him or costar Karen Allen (reprising her Raiders role in a welcome development) appear unnaturally younger.

Lucas was said to believe that Skull should’ve been inspired more by ’50s sci-fi films than ’40s serials, as was the case with the earlier Indy chapters. If so, he blew it. While there are some obvious nods to the decade–the biggest being the striking image of Indiana standing on a rise with an atomic explosion looming in the background–it’s still more Republic Pictures than 20th Century Fox. That’s because it’s trying so hard to recapture the earlier Indy films, especially Raiders. Not that that’s a bad thing, but it’s just that the familiar tropes–truck chases, trap-laded tombs and creepy crawlies–have nothing to do with flying saucer flicks.

Familiarity is both a blessing and a curse here. It’s fun to catch the little winks to the audience, such as the inevitable appearance of the Lost Ark in the midst of the Area 51 warehouse, unseen by all except the audience. Still, a big part of what made Raiders work was surprise, and my familiarity with the previous films’ pacing meant that I could predict, down to the second, each occurance of a gun-wielding villain dropping “unexpectedly” into the frame. This predictable unpredictability continued, as in the scene in which Indy and company faced a series of three waterfalls; the little kid behind me in the theater (accurately) declared “the third one’s gonna be huge.” When the eight-year-olds can tell what’s gonna happen before it does, it’s time to change up your pitch.

Okay, enough negativity. Look, it’s a fun film. While there are some slow sections, there’s plenty of humor and action. The interplay between Ford and Allen is enjoyable, and I’m glad that the story devoted a fair amount of attention to their relationship.

Shia LaBeouf is fine as Indy’s sidekick/son (what, did I give it away?), but Lucas is smoking crack if he thinks I’m signing on for “The Adventures of Mutt Williams.” Nothing wrong with the actor or the character, it’s just that Mutt’s not a headliner. If there’s to be a further continuation of the series, I’d prefer to see the filmmakers take the James Bond approach and allow another actor to play Indiana Jones.

Honestly, I think that the best thing for Indy would be if Lucas, Spielberg and Ford gave up their stranglehold on the character. As I suggested earlier, there was no reason that Kingdom of the Crystal Skull couldn’t have been made in 1992, three years after The Last Crusade. Allowing other actors and directors to take a whip crack at Indy during the last 19 years would’ve invigorated the franchise and kept this perfectly-agreeable fourth chapter from seeming a relative disappointment.

Dave Movies George Lucas is a hack and a ne'er-do-well, Indiana Jones, reviews, Steven Spielberg

If you thought that I’d think the long Memorial Day weekend was a perfect time to catch up on my blog, you are clearly not me, because I instead thought it was a perfect time to play with my Wii, early and often. My games of choice were “Pinball Hall of Fame: The Williams Collection,” a retro simulation of classic arcade tables, and “Thrillville: Off the Rails,” a theme park management title. The latter was aggressively teeny-bopper in style and complexity, but that was okay with me, because it also downplayed the three parts of theme park games that I hate most: economic micromanagement, incessantly pissed-off guests and copious amounts of vomit. The coaster editor was intuitive and fun, with all manner of wild rides to build.

So it was that I was otherwise engaged in building the perfect suspended roller coaster rather than writing about my recent California trip.

This was an unusual vacation for us in that it began with Vic and I in different places: me coming from the PBS conference in Palm Springs via rental car, and Vic flying directly into LAX. I was a bit concerned about that, but everything worked out okay. The drive from Palm Springs was scenic, what with the massive, massive wind farm on its outskirts amid the craggy desert terrain.

This creepy sculpture guards the entrance of a PS bar appropriately called “Hole in the Wall.”

Once I caught up with Vic, who’d already checked into the hotel, we drove out to Santa Monica to the area around the pier. A midway has been built up along it, and there’s a lengthy outdoor shopping corridor nearby with lots of trendy shops and nifty topiary dinosaurs.

Fortunately, we did not attempt to go down to my old stomping grounds in West Hollywood that evening, because it turned out that very day the California Supreme Court paved the way for gay marriage, and the streets were clogged with celebrations. We did make it the following day, by which time the furor had moved on, presumably to the local office of the justice of the peace. (Oh, and without getting on a soapbox, good for them.)

On Friday the 16th we ate breakfast crepes at the Farmer’s Market and then went shopping along Melrose Avenue. Melrose has a lot of hip clothing stores which Vic and I are much too old to even gaze upon, much less enter. It also has the display manikin pictured below, which Vic realized was not only lacking panties but sporting (and thankfully, the camera didn’t pick this up well) a thicket of pubes.

Stay classy, Melrose.

It was then off to Hollywood Boulevard for another leg of my L.A. reunion tour. As New York did with Times Square, so Hollywood has attempted with its famed walk of…er, fame. Unfortunately, they haven’t quite succeeded. The clean-up surrounds the immediate vicinity of Grauman’s Chinese and the impressive Kodak Theater (recent home of the Oscars), but once you get a block or so past Disney’s refurbished showplace, the El Capitan, it’s back to shuttered storefronts and sex shops. It’s depressing to see which celebrated personages of Hollywood long gone are unlucky enough to have their star on the Walk of Fame in front of a seedy electronics store.

Vicky gets the vapors on the Hollywood casting couch.

Oh, and then there are the street “performers.” You may have heard about them: enterprising bums who dress up as various characters and hang out in front of the Chinese Theater hoping to pose for photos with tourists in exchange for tips. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they weren’t so repellent and poorly costumed.

You know he’s Elmo because he has an Elmo bag and backpack.

I mean, I am not the PBS Police, but damned if I didn’t want to turn that guy in for trademark infringement. And he wasn’t as bad as the Spidey in a sweat-soaked, dark maroon suit, or the woman who couldn’t decide if she was Batgirl or Catwoman and so split the difference. At least the two Jack Sparrows were pretty good, because Captain Jack is supposed to look mangy.

In addition to them were the religious hucksters, the Scientologists and the incessant peddlers of Hollywood tours, the latter of which must have accosted us every ten feet. Hollywood can build all the fancy, schmancy monuments to itself that it wants, but what it really needs is a high-pressure hose.

Saturday the 17th I got together with my old California roommate Guy, who still lives in the very same apartment building that he did 22 years ago (rent control is, I’m told, a wonderful thing). I was blown away by his sizable collection of memorabilia from Disneyland’s “Haunted Mansion.” He keeps his home (as the ride’s spiel says) “delightfully unlivable.”

After spending the afternoon knocking around the area’s horror-themed stores (there are more than you might think), we left Guy and drove down to Anaheim to visit one of my first loves, Disneyland. While I’ve been to Disney World in Florida a couple of times in the past few years, it’s probably been at least a decade since I’ve been to the original. And boy, has it changed. Happily, for the better.

I was amazed at just how built up the area has become. Disneyland had once been hemmed in on all sides by sprawl, but they’ve apparently managed to buy up enough of the surrounding area to do some proper landscaping and further separate their fantasy land from the outside world. (Something that had bugged me in previous visits was just how depressingly visible reality was from some of the taller rides.)

We stayed at a place called the Candy Cane Inn, a nice, non-Disney hotel that was literally walking distance from the main gate. It took me a while to get my bearings despite my old familiarity with Disneyland, as there’s now a second park (“California Adventure”) on the site of the old parking lot, as well as a smaller version of Florida’s “Downtown Disney.”

On the midway at California Adventure.

Now, I’m in many ways a Disneyland purist, but part of that is embracing Walt’s philosophy that the park will never be finished. And so I not only wasn’t bothered by the changes large and small that I discovered, but was generally pleased with them.

Among the enhancements was the addition of animatronic Johnny Depps to “Pirates of the Caribbean.” They were well-integrated into the storyline and, given that the films had so many visual nods to the ride, they fit right in. Also welcome were the now-floating head of Madame Leota in the “Haunted Mansion”‘s seance room, as well as the spruced up attic scene with its murderous bride. And while it’s been a long time since I’ve been aboard the Disneyland version of “Space Mountain,” the ride seemed much smoother and faster and kicked a tremendous amount of ass. Finally, the long-dormant “Submarine Voyage” was back, ridding itself of its absurdly outdated mechanical fish-on-sticks technology in favor of underwater projection systems featuring the cast of Finding Nemo. It was cute, if not necessarily worth the insane crowds lined up for it.

One of my favorite spots on Earth: the path leading up to Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion.

I’ve always preferred the original Disneyland to its Florida cousins, and this trip reminded me why. It’s smaller, and thus easier to get around. It’s the only park with the “Indiana Jones” ride. It still has charming and unique Fantasyland attractions such as “Alice in Wonderland,” “Storybook Land,” and “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.” Its version of “Pirates of the Caribbean” is considerably longer. And it has the Blue Bayou restaurant, which overlooks the “Pirates” swamp and simulates a nighttime sky in broad daylight. We got a waterside table and watched the boats drift by on their way to Davy Jones’ Locker.

We also got stuck on “Alice in Wonderland” and had to be evacuated, the first time that’s ever happened to me. Not sure what happened, but all the lights came on and we were trapped amidst the giant flowers until a “cast member” escorted us out through a side door. Hey, at least we got to go straight to the front of the line once the ride was fixed.

The view from our “Alice” car.

“California Adventure,” which I saw for the first time, seemed to echo comments I’d previously read which suggested it was a theme park in search of an identity. As Vic put it, you’re already having a California adventure. My impression was that most of the attractions were things that you’d find at a non-Disney park, including the ubiquitous river raft ride. Still, I had to admit that the “California Screamin’” roller coaster was a hell of a lot of fun. I also enjoyed their version of the “Tower of Terror,” though in this case the Florida version is more extensive. And while the giant Ferris wheel–which has cars which slide back and forth as well as revolving–had me ready to hurl, both of us really enjoyed the Monsters, Inc., which ends with an animatronic Roz (the slug-like dispatcher with the gravelly voice) taunting riders in real-time via a hidden cast member. Honestly, I think you could take Screamin’, Tower and Monsters (plus the popular “Soarin’ Over California”) and ditch the rest of the park.

Most of the time we were in California it was 90-plus in the shade, with Palm Springs baking in the upper 90s as we flew out on Tuesday the 20th. Imagine our surprise when we got home and it was in the 50s, in late May no less. And today, as I look out the window at the rainy, 55-degree day, I find myself wishing I was back in California, eating a frozen Minute Maid lemonade and waiting to go back on “Space Mountain.”

Dave General costumed characters, Disneyland, gays, Hollywood, vacations

The CBS comedy How I Met Your Mother had an uneven third season, which I attribute in part to the interruption of the writers’ strike, as well as to the last-minute substitution of Sarah Chalke for the AWOL Alicia Silverstone as Ted’s new girlfriend. (Not that Chalke’s in any way a bad choice, just that her ongoing commitment to Scrubs meant that she was largely off-screen during the early days of Ted and Stella’s romance.)

That said, I’ve really enjoyed some of the online jokes planted by the show’s producers. Viral websites are nothing new, but what I find so appealing about the HIMYM tie-ins is that they’re less about promoting the show than they are about extending its humor into the real world. Plus, most of them include a silly song.

A couple of weeks back, there was a throwaway gag about the characters stumbling across a website called guyforceshiswifetodressinagarbagebagforthenextthreeyears.com, and indeed, the site actually exists. There’s not much there aside from a slideshow of a happy, young couple (played by a couple of HIMYM crew members), one of whom is wearing a garbage bag blouse. But what sells the joke is the ridiculous song playing in the background: producer Carter Bays croons in French while a breathy-voiced woman intones “garbage bag.” (A translation is available, and the song itself can be downloaded.)

Dave TV How I Met Your Mother, internet humor

Ken Lowery does a fine job of defending Speed Racer, calling out critics on praising Transformers for the exact same reasons they used to damn Speed. It’s the same sort of thing that bugged me when pre-tumor Roger Ebert gave The Phantom Menace three-and-a-half stars ["I wish the "Star Wars" characters spoke with more elegance and wit ...but dialogue isn't the point, anyway: These movies are about new things to look at."], while post-cancer Ebert gave Attack of the Clones a mere two (“But in a film with a built-in audience, why not go for the high notes? Why not allow the dialogue to be inventive, stylish and expressive?”).

Ken makes an especially good point: “In those debates and in those negative reviews, it always came down to this: that serious stories are better than fun stories, and think-pieces are superior to movies that dazzle. The underlying mentality, sometimes stated but more often implied, is that some storytelling goals are simply worthier than others.” That’s something I’ve been trying to say in my own way for some time; that with few exceptions, a Chariots of Fire or Gandhi will always be seen as superior to a Raiders of the Lost Ark or E.T., simply because one is high-minded, “spinach is good for you” filmmaking, and the other just wants to have fun.

But when was the last time you watched Chariots of Fire?

Dave Speed Racer reviews, Speed Racer, the wrath of Ebert

Back from my California trip. Digging out. More later.

Dave General just checking in

As I mentioned yesterday, I’m currently in Palm Springs (actually Palm Desert), California for a public TV conference. The photo at left is the view from the balcony of my hotel room. As you can see, it’s quite nice here, though I’ve yet to have an opportunity to try out the pool.

I’d hoped to post some stuff here in my off hours, but it just doesn’t look like that’s going to work out. And Thursday I drive a rental car to Los Angeles to meet Vic and take a few days’ vacation. I’ll be visiting my old stomping grounds in Hollywood, and going to Disneyland for the first time in too many years. The downside is that I’ll be completely offline from then until next Tuesday.

However, if you’re interested, through Thursday morning I’ll be blogging about the PBS conference for the WILL-TV web site. Click the “TV Worth Blogging” image in the left-hard bar to read about upcoming public TV programs.

I’ll be back next week with more pointless, self-serving posts. (And don’t think I’ve given up on my fixation with Latitude Zero!)

Dave General blogs, conferences, vacations

I’m writing this from Palm Springs, California, where I’m attending the annual PBS Showcase conference. I logged in this evening to check my e-mail and perhaps do a bit of blogging, only to learn that my friend Topher, a longtime member of our Friday night gaming group, died last night, possibly from a heart attack apparently from an aneurysm.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel at the moment. As a group, we’re all much too young to be losing friends in this manner.

Topher was a good guy and one hell of a gamer. One played “Settlers of Catan” or “Puerto Rico” against him at one’s peril. His life really seemed to have come together in the last few years: a wonderful wife, a nice house, a great job in the video game industry. I liked and respected him, and I will miss him.

Dave General obituaries

Right now, I’m having one of those moments in which I feel that I’m really not in synch with the people around me.

Look, I knew that I was more jazzed about the Speed Racer film than most, but I’m boggled by the chilliness of its reception. Sure, the critics didn’t like it, but that’s what critics do. They were gunning for it from the moment the first trailer debuted. (I maintain that pre-tumor Roger Ebert–the guy who praised The Phantom Menace for being an empty spectacle–would’ve loved it. Post-op Ebert, however, did not.)

I honestly thought that there would’ve been an enthusiastic reaction from the middle-aged geeks who grew up on the cartoon, plus every ten-year-old boy in the U.S. And so I was not prepared to see perhaps twenty people in the theater at 7:00 pm Friday on opening night.

The crowds didn’t seem much more numerous today, even though Saturday should be more conducive to family viewing. Meanwhile, Iron Man was packed.

Yeah, I know: everyone loves Iron Man, critics and fanboys alike. Having just come from seeing it, I don’t quite get the passion. It’s a solid film, sure, but I was being told that it was in the upper echelons of the superhero genre. I felt it was more Spider-Man than Spider-Man 2, but what do I know? The first Spider-Man film made a metric fuckton of cash, whereas I thought it was “okay.”

The problems I had with Iron Man were two-fold. First, it’s an origin film, which meant that a whole lot of running time was spent in setting up the background. That’s understandable, but it’s still “seen it.” Second–and the filmmakers admit as much–Iron Man doesn’t have a strong villain roster. Here they pretty much go the easy way out and make him fight a bigger version of himself. How RoboCop 2 of them.

Again, it’s by no means a bad film. Downey was very good, as was Paltrow. The comedy bits, especially the ones involving an overzealous fire-extinguishing robot, were fun. I liked the in-jokes: Stan Lee being mistaken for Hugh Hefner, Tony Stark’s phone playing the old Iron Man cartoon theme, and Rhodey (who becomes the hero War Machine in the comics) looking at Stark’s first armor suit and saying “Next time.” It’s just that the film seemed much less than I’d been led to expect.

Speed Racer, on the other hand, was more or less just what I expected. That’s not to say that it’s a better film than Iron Man, but I certainly did have more fun with it.

Contrary to the reviews, I didn’t find the graphics to be that eye-searing, and I never had any trouble following the racing action. As Vic pointed out, Speed’s gonna win; what else do you need to know?

The reviews seemed unfair on one point: a number of them made the point that while the film itself was firmly anti-corporate, it was made and marketed by one of the world’s largest media groups. (Unlike every other mainstream movie, I guess.) And your point is? That because you don’t like the messenger–or rather, the company who paid the messenger–the message itself was invalid?

I thought that the Wachowski brothers did a fine job of capturing the spirit of the cartoon, though I realize that this may have also been what put off potential viewers. Still, no one went broke underestimating the tastes of the American audience: Transformers (which I also enjoyed) did very well and it was no deeper or less frenetic than Speed Racer. I don’t know, maybe adults just didn’t want to see a movie with a monkey in a starring role.

I enjoyed the look of Speed’s world, even though the Wachowskis took considerable liberty from the old show in turning it into a gigantic, psychedelic skate park. The racing scenes, with the cars spinning madly along the course and even grinding the rails, were like none ever seen before.

The cast did a good job with what they had to work with, but I thought that the young actor playing Spritle was the standout. I found most of his comic relief bits playing opposite the aforementioned monkey legitimately amusing.

As a fanboy, I would’ve liked perhaps a bit more fidelity to the original series. Some of the names–Snake Oiler, Cruncher Block, Inspector Detector, the GRX–were familiar, but they were playing different roles in the film’s plot than they did in the cartoon. And since they wound up racing in some locales that were similar to those seen in the show, why not use the names? Those are silly quibbles, I know.

What really does surprise me about Speed Racer vs. Iron Man is that the latter seemed to have attracted more parents with small children, yet the former seemed far more appropriate for them. Iron Man was a bit dark and gruesome at times, what with its Afghan terrorists and scenes of torture. Plus, it had some very long stretches between the action scenes. Speed Racer dragged a bit in the middle too, but it was so bright and cheery that I would think kids would find more to keep themselves engaged.

But again, what the heck do I know? I am clearly out of touch with what other people like.

Dave Movies I don't get it, Iron Man, reviews, Speed Racer, the wrath of Ebert

Here’s the season finale of 30 Rock, entitled “Cooter.” That’s Tina Fey’s favorite euphemism for the female hoo-hoo, but here it’s doubly appropriate as Liz has a pregnancy scare and Jack meets his new, unfortunately-nicknamed boss in the fading, sorely-in-denial Bush Administration. A bag of Spanish cheese curls–whose name translates to “Taste of Solitude”–figures into the plot, as does a box of pen caps, a porn video game, a secret military project and a trip to the Beijing Olympics.

And just why does Liz’ new boss keep a toy car in her mouth?

Dave Tina Fey 30 Rock, Tina Fey

One of Speed Racer’s greatest challenges was posed by the Gang of Assassins, featured in the episode “Gang of Assassins.” Another ninja-themed group, they had a couple of clear advantages over the previously-seen bat boys: sheer numbers and bitchin’, death’s head cars. Also a flying dragon submarine, but more on that in a minute.

They had been hired to disrupt the International Peacemeal Conference, the name of which was probably as close to political satire as the American translators of Speed Racer ever got. The Mach 5 happened upon the scene of their next assassination attempt, but when Speed used the homing robot to give them the bird, one of the gang retaliated by throwing a million, billion ninja stars.

Speed and Trixie gave chase in the Mach 5, but the assassins’ cars proved to have an overwhelming array of weapons: machine guns, spike strips and flamethrowers.

Later, Racer X, who had been in town for the Fujiyama Grand Prix, was standing on a lake shore watching a boat full of delegates to the Peacemeal Conference when he was ambushed by the assassins. Who were buried in the dirt beneath him. That’s how kick-ass the Gang of Assassins were: they could burrow. They snagged the Masked Racer’s wrists with chains, but he gave them a spin.

Racer X learned that the attack was just a test: they wanted to recruit him into the gang. Just then, a dragon-headed submarine reared out of the water and a whirlpool sucked the delegates’ sightseeing vessel below the surface!

After a series of adventures, Speed, Trixie, Spritle and Chim-Chim all found themselves in the underground lair of the worldwide assassins’ organization.

	The assassins deliberately kept their lair chilly.

Speed met their leader, Professor Anarchy, who offered Speed a job on the team. When the racer refused, Anarchy threatened to make him his 2,708th victim. (That’s right, he kept track.)

Even’s Anarchy’s eyepatch was twisted.

The conversation was cut short by the arrival of Racer X, seemingly in cahoots with the villains. Rex was put in charge of murdering Speed, Trixie and the captured delegates. Indeed, he blasted away with a submachine gun…and, in what was arguably the greatest feat of precision ever achieved by a racer-turned-secret-agent, shot off their ropes.

		Not even Speed is buying it.

A fracas ensued, and, as this was Speed Racer, it involved submachine guns, and lots of ‘em.

After that, it all got a bit insane. Racer X led the freed delegates out of the underground complex, then went back to blow it up with a time bomb. Spritle and Chim-Chim stowed away aboard the dragon sub. Speed and Trixie raced off in the Mach 5 in hopes of intercepting the remaining assassins before they could reach the Peacemeal Conference.

Then, because no Japanese adventure series was complete without a flying submarine, the dragon lifted off and began pelting the fleeing Speed with fireballs. Once again, Spritle and Chim-Chim saved the day by sabotaging the sub and parachuting out as it made a final, fatal power dive smack into the highway, demolishing the killers’ cars. Suck that, assassins.

	“Aieeeeeee! I dishonor my ancestors!”

The fate of Professor Anarchy was unrevealed, but I believe that surely his sinister eyepatch would once again endanger world peace.

---

This brings me to the end of my less-than-comprehensive retrospective of Speed Racer. The movie opened today, and I’ll be seeing it this evening. While it’s being savaged by the critics, their descriptions make it sound as if it’s exactly what’s promised in the trailer: an eye-searing visual display that’s relatively faithful to the cartoon in both tone and level of sophistication. (Make of that what you will.) Fortunately for me, that’s exactly what I’m looking for.

Getting ready for tonight.

Dave Speed Racer freakin' awesome, monkeys, ninjas, Speed Racer