Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World – A Non-Spoilery Review
No witty subject line this time as my brain is currently fit to explode.
Tonight, I saw a preview screening of Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World.
I know, you wish you were me.
I am bursting with the need to talk all about the movie. I am desperate to OMGthatpartwiththe-YES!Iknowitwas-AHAHAHAHABloorandBathurst!–didyouseeOMFG-ASKDFJADVEGDA.
But that could be construed as the hyperbolic aftermath of an Awesome Movie Going Experience. Which, in part, it may well be. It’s enthusiasm and glee and unabashed, starry-eyed awe.
I want people to see this movie. I want to geek out with other people about this movie. But, I don’t want to contribute to the overhype that stops disaffected hipsters from seeing it.
Wait, no. Fuck the disaffected hipsters.
Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World is fresh. It’s exciting. It’s, dare I say it? Important.
It was unlike any film I’ve seen before; visually rich and metatextually dense, like a pop-culture pound cake. With sprinkles.
It was filmmaking taken to a new level; one where the CGI enhanced the text, rather than just made it prettier.
It was different from every movie I’ve seen because it was in a different language. But it wasn’t in French, or German, or Czech.
It was in Geek.
It was the ultimate ADD, 83-Firefox-tabs, fifteen-chats-going-at-once, can’t-stop-playing-til-I-reach-a-save-point, just-one-more-song-on-GuitarHero, check-out-this-band-on-YouTube, multitasking, geek addled, twitterpated experience.
It was different because it took everything we – as geeks, as nerds, as fans – are, and made it a part of the visual vernacular.
It was our movie, on our terms, in our language.
See it.
When it comes out.
Or, y’know. Whatever.
Hollywood is losing money because you’re an asshole.
So, I went to a screening of Shutter Island tonight. The cinema was full to brimming; the only seats left were the ones two feet from the screen where you practically had to have your knees up near your ears to fit in the seat. We were lucky. We managed to snag a pair of seats a few rows from the back.
We were surrounded by assholes.
Going to the cinema is not that hard a concept to understand: You sit in the dark for two or so hours watching moving pictures on a screen. It really beggars belief as to how people still manage to find ways to fuck it up.
I find myself going to the cinema less and less as I encounter more and more morons fuckwads assholes fuckwads who have absolutely no concept of how to act in these situations. As such, here’s a short list of ways to not be a fucktard in a cinema:
1. DON’T FUCKING TALK. Not a hard one to grasp, really. You shut your mouth, sound doesn’t come out. It really is a brilliant concept and one you should really take up when the Feature Presentation whatsit comes on.
Example: Tonight at the cinema, we had a couple beside us, a couple behind us, and a couple in front of us who all, at various points in the film, decided it was time for a chitchat. That’s not even including the people dotted around the rest of the cinema who were chatting at a volume we could hear, but not understand. Fun Fact: I don’t care who X character reminds you of, mostly I just want to punch you in the face. [Screening: Shutter Island]
2. DON’T FUCKING TALK. Chances are you’ve seen Fight Club. Deal with it.
Example: You’re sitting in your lounge room watching a movie, the volume’s up, you have a cup of tea and some popcorn, maybe some Girl Scout Cookies. You know what’s awesome about this? You’re alone! You can talk as much as you want! You’re not going to get my fist in your face if you keep talking throughout! AMAZING! Stay there. Do not leave the house. Do not inflict your stupidity on a large group of people who aren’t going to rock the boat and tell you to shut up because they don’t want a meat thermometer to the throat. [Screening: Daybreakers]
3. DON’T FUCKING TALK. I’d really love to stop repeating myself, but considering you haven’t grasped the concept of not fucking talking in a fucking cinema after 100 fucking years of cinematic history, chances are you’ve been beaten with the moron stick and still aren’t quite grasping the concept.
Example: Regardless of what language you’re speaking, WE CAN STILL HEAR YOU. STFU and STFD. Assholes. [Screening: Shutter Island and Where The Wild Things Are]
4. DON’T FUCKING TALK. Sing it with me, you have to know the words by now.
Example: Nobody cares if you’re from New Foundland. Nobody cares if you want the hypospray McCoy used on Kirk. Nobody cares whether or not you can feel your ass. Nobody cares what you think. And you know why? You’re not J.J. Abrams and you didn’t work your ass off to show off your lens flares. Also, you’re nowhere near as attractive as Chris Pine, Zachary Quinto, or that weird nobbly thing that hung out with Scotty on the ice planet. And you smell like feet. (Addendum: Another reason to not attend the cinema: if you have consumption and are sucking back Nyquil like mother’s milk while chunkily coughing on the Australian girl sitting beside you. Assface.) [Screening: Motherfucking Star Trek. TWICE.]
5. DON’T FUCKING TALK. Urge to kill rising.
Example: Just because your baby can’t form words yet, doesn’t mean you should bring it to a late night screening of an R rated movie. We can hear it. We can hear you calming it. We are all imagining you being torn apart by ravening hoards of the undead. [Screening: Zombieland and Legion.]
In conclusion: STFD. STFU. Watch the damn movie.
And the survey says… Failboat!
Updates coming, I promise!
I got caught up in volunteering for a couple of film festivals, started a new internship at a tv production company, and am now in the process of finding a place and moving.
The good news is that I’m working on a ridiculously overdue post of TIFF reviews, and I’m developing a short that we’re hoping to shoot in late July-Early August!
Busy, busy, busy. And stuff.
So, until I get a chance to sit down and actually write stuff, here’s a picture of my cat.
Weighing In: The Polanski Petition and the Semantic Divide
Right now, I’m supposed to be doing two things: 1.) Recovering from a heinous case of the flu, and 2.) Writing up my TIFF reviews. Instead, I’m caught up in the anger and confusion of the Polanski arrest and subsequent petition for his release.
It’s a horrible position to be in. To feel vindicated that he finally got what was coming, and yet also to see why the petition has merit. It’s awful to watch people get caught up in the mob mentality of baying for his blood and wanting to be a part of that, too.
For the record, I would like nothing more than to see Polanski strung up by his balls while a rabid skunk gnaws on his face. Rape is rape. Rape of a thirteen year old is rape. There’s none of this “rape-rape” distinction bollocks. Rape is rape is rape and should be punished as such. Have I said rape enough that you’re starting to get the picture? Or do you need the added bonus of drugging and sodomy? As if one violation weren’t enough.
The fact of the matter is that Polanski should have been arrested and put to work in the salt mines years ago. Without a canary. But that’s not what I’m seeing the backlash against. Well, not solely.
There’s a little matter of the petition.
Le cinéma soutient Roman Polanski / Petition for Roman Polanski
For some bizarre reason, the list of signatories is a large, practically incomprehensible block of text with no indication of exactly how many people have signed. That’s not the issue. The issue is that of the names on there, some of them are people many of us admire (Tilda Swinton, Pedro Almodovar, Alfonso Cuaron, Natalie Portman, just to name a few), some are people whose name we see on that list and think Well, of course he’d be there (Woody Allen, anyone?), and some of them are people who the North American-centric people haven’t heard of and would have ‘no problem never supporting again because they’re nobody Europeans’. (Paraphrased and not sourced because I got incensed and closed the window after reading that quote. Ass.)
I have seen in so many places people lashing out at the people who have dared to sign the petition: They support child rape! They’re no better than Polanski himself! They all must be pedophiles! They want to see your children raped! How can they support such a monster?!
How can we ever watch a movie with/by [X] again without knowing that he/she supports such a despicable pervert?
The answer is, simply, you don’t have to.
The petition is nothing to do with what Polanski did. I admit, I was shocked when I, having not read the petition itself, saw all those names of people I admire coming out in support of freeing Polanski. I felt nauseous thinking about all those movies I’d never be able to watch without a twitch at the back of my mind pointing out all the assholes on the screen.
Then I read the petition.
I have always said that anyone who turns to Hollywood and Celebrities for political or legal information and opinions are Dumbass Morons. If you want information, look it up your damn self and don’t rely on some pretty mouthpiece to tell you what to think, because if there’s one thing clear about the spotlight: it makes you dumb.
The petition is poorly phrased and, in places, completely misleading. It has information that should not be in a formal petition which skews the message into a bad place. It is, in short, a fairly terrible petition, semantically speaking.
The petition, when read without the overwhelming urge to flay Polanski and rub salt in his wounds, is not about Polanski at all. It’s about the arrest, not who or what the arrest was for. It is very simply, about the fact that filmmakers need to be able to go to film festivals to present their films without worrying about political backlash from any number of directions.
The fact that Polanski was the first filmmaker to be arrested in such a way is damning for the cause and presents a slippery slope for any other filmmaker who may be presenting a film with an undesirable view of his or her home country, political or religious factions, or any number of subjects or reasons.
If you replace “Roman Polanski” with “Salman Rushdie” a majority of people would be all over that petition like white on rice. He wrote a book, he fled the country. The only difference is that his life literally was in danger, and he didn’t have a poorly worded petition on his tail. (Also the lack of rape in his story.) My argument stands.
If Salman Rushdie had been arrested in a neutral country and extradited back to a place where he would face the death sentence, this petition would stand as is.
But, there are two things I’m seeing a lot of people get caught up on. First, is the second paragraph:
His arrest follows an American arrest warrant dating from 1978 against the filmmaker, in a case of morals.
Calling ‘rape’ a ‘case of morals’ is just plain stupid. Admittedly, this comes from a Western background where, ideally, rape is Just Not On. (The facts and statistics that point out that that this just isn’t true for anyone except women are cause for another post, which I am absolutely not qualified to write.) In what seems to be an effort to not make the petition about the fact that Polanski plead guilty to a rape charge, the writer of the petition has highlighted the fact.
Strike one.
Filmmakers, actors, producers and technicians – everyone involved in international filmmaking – want him to know that he has their support and friendship.
There is absolutely no cause for this to be in the petition. Given what the petition is actually about, the arrest and extradition from a neutral country, and not about the crime itself, then the support and friendship of the filmmakers, actors, producers and technicians – everyone involved in international filmmaking** is absolutely irrelevant.
Strike two.
Had this petition been launched with any case other than Polanski’s, it would have had the potential to unite the filmmakers of the world against improper arrests and the potential for them to be used as censorial acts.
Unfortunately, we got Polanski. And instead of being able to unite against potential censorship and the danger future filmmakers may find themselves in, we get to rage at Tilda Swinton for daring to put her name to a petition that doesn’t know it’s arse from a hole in the ground.
So, while I agree that Polanski should absolutely face justice and serve his time, I cannot condone the arrest under the circumstances. It’s a paradox of Schrödinger’s proportions. And that, of course, can only lead to an angry, brainsore mob.
**(So, technically, that includes me. Thanks for asking. DENIED. See: Nads & Rabid Skunk)
TV Round Up…
Alrighty. Figure I’d put this up for posterity’s sake. These are the shows that currently occupy my viewing time. I rarely turn the TV on unless there’s something I actually want to watch on, and these are it. Them. Thingy.
Must Watch
The shows that I absolutely cannot miss.
Chuck
I’ve already spazzed my pants over how much I like Chuck, so I’ll just leave it at that. I will say that, as it’s on at the same time as The Big Bang Theory, I usually watch BBT and then wait for one of the later showings of Chuck. (This is why having Satellite sometimes doesn’t suck; I get a three hour timeshift on everything.)
Dirty Jobs
I often make the mistake of watching this while eating dinner. Still, I’ve loved this show since I found out they pixellate it when anybody vomits. Now if they’d just scramble the vomit audio, it’d be fantastic.
Flashpoint
Absolutely genius show. The editing, the acting and the writing all make me positively gleeful. Also, it made me cry once. I never cry. (I can count the number of times TV/Film have made me cry on one hand. And still have three fingers free.) It’s come a long way from the pilot episode that I described as ‘Eliot DiMauro, The Pink Ranger, and a guy that looks like Josh Charles walk into a hostage situation…’
Read more
Don’t judge a book by its cover… But feel free to judge a TV show by its title sequence. (Part 2)
["...hopefully in the next couple of days." apparently does not take into account a loss in the family, sliding into two weeks in New York, and the onset of the dreaded flu. AND 23 hours without power in temperatures peaking at -17 degrees celsius. Go, go Toronto! Last time I try to give anything close to a definitive answer. Fr Srs.]
And so it continues: gloriously abstract TV titles that contribute effectively to the creation of the thematic identity of the program. (Continued from Part 1 here.)
I’ve been thrown for a bit of a loop here as one of the title sequences I had searched down is no longer available on YouTube thanks to a copyright claim by NBC Universal. Thanks, ever so much. Just for that, I’m not even going to mention the title of the show, or give it some free advertising. No need to thank me, I’m only paying you the same courtesy you pay your viewing audience. (When will you learn? No, seriously. I want a succinct, precise answer.)
I will however pimp shows from some of your competitors outside the jump: Pushing Daisies. Dexter. True Blood. Carnivale. Flashpoint. Dirty Jobs. Nip/Tuck. The Big Bang Theory. Grey’s Anatomy. Supernatural. Stargate: Atlantis. Twin Peaks. Psych. Reaper. Robot Chicken. The Young Ones.
All of those are on other networks. Some of them don’t even fit the criteria for this post. Some of those have been cancelled. Some of them haven’t been on TV in decades. What matters is I like all of them.
Also, you suck.
MOVING ON.
The remaining titles are after the jump. I haven’t figured out what to replace the [SHOW THAT WILL NOT BE NAMED] titles yet, so there may only be four. I sorted it. There are five.
Don’t judge a book by its cover… But feel free to judge a TV show by its title sequence. (Part 1)
First up, apologies for the lack of updates. I was a little bit busy moving to Canada. I’m in Toronto and I have bought boots and a jacket and gloves and I still manage to nearly lose my limbs to frostbite every time I step outside. I reserve the right to shout “The sky is falling!” whenever it snows. Like right now.
Moving on!
I love TV, that’s no secret. I love episodic and serialised drama, comedy, pseudo-horror, and the like. I love watching the characters grow and develop within the realms of their own little worlds and plots. I love the little intrigues and mysteries and the various permutations of the basic narrative structure.
I love title sequences.
Over the past couple of months, I’ve been putting together a list of title sequences from various TV shows that use the minute or so of title time to go beyond a simple ‘This is X person, This is Y person, they are in this show’ structure and use the time to create a textual representation of the character of the show itself. These types of titles tend to use the juxtaposition of images to create a mood and an ideology–a thematic identity–for the show beyond the pecking order of the main stars.
These may seem like fairly obvious and straightforward concepts; in our celebrity driven culture, the title sequence is designed primarily to let the audience know who is in the show coupled with a vague idea of what the show is about. But, and this is what grabs me by the short and curlies and makes me sit up and pay attention, some title sequences go far beyond these basic expectations. Some shows abandon the ‘Heroic Headshot, Shot from Show, Sympathetic Headshot, Shot from Show, And Anthony Stewart Head as Giles, Title of Show Plate’ format, and create tiny snippets of art unto themselves. They divulge the character of the show as an entity in itself and, often, draw you into the world of the show as something beyond a way to sustain the live characters and the plotlines.
Now, this whole fascination I have with short form textual analysis stems from my study into Eisensteinian Montage as applied to Music Videos. It’s a long (and potentially boring for anyone not interested in film theory) story, but if you want to know more, my essay on the subject is here. I’ve also recently found Art of the Title which goes beyond the restrictions I’ve set (only TV, abstract form) to show the titles of films and TV as mini works of art.
Now, I’ve compiled a collection of ten television title sequences that best display (in my opinion) the use of the title sequence as a means to firmly present the character of the show as a whole through abstracted means; i.e. no headshots, textually rich, and aiming to develop the character of the show as a whole. The only limitation on this little study was what I was able to find on YouTube and my own viewing habits.
Due to the fact that I’m apparently a long winded bag when it comes to analysing and squeeing over things I enjoy, I’m splitting them up into two posts.
Beyond the jump, are the first five. All the videos are embedded. So, dial-up beware.
Market Research – A Statistic Is You!
I was recently cold called by a market research company to participate in, funnily enough, some market research on a thirty minute (incl. ads) sitcom that they (whoever ‘they’ are) are considering developing. Being the little media nerd I am, I was incredibly interested in what the process entails and how it works out. In short, I said yes.
Now, I’m not going to go into any specific details regarding who is doing the study (it’s a commercial property, natch), what the show was, or what specific products I was asked to give my opinion about. I’m more interested in the process itself. I’ve always been the kind of person who likes to contribute opinions and whatnot when asked for them for research; I think it’s important to contribute to the furtherance of knowledge and the growth of understanding. In the past, I’ve done this through mainly academic means: participating in studies and filling out questionaires or just sitting down for a coffee with people and having conversations about their works. (I think I’ve been quoted in a thesis on Milan Kundera. *buffs nails and is generally awesome*) But, I’ve never been asked to participate in something which may have lasting impact in the now.
Of course, the now-ness of it all meant that the only opinions I gave that really counted were about the advertising content. Yay, now. -_-
The Package.
I was sent a package by the company conducting the survey containing a form letter (unless I changed my name to ‘Participant’ without telling me, which is entirely possible), a DVD, three envelopes– labelled ‘Please Open Before You View The Tape’, ‘Please Open After You View The Tape’ and ‘Please do NOT OPEN‘ (cementing their grammar skills as l33t)–and a $10 gift card. The letter outlined the process, informed me that the DVD was single use only and would self destruct in five seconds would not work a second time, and some questions I should keep in mind while viewing the program. It also said that I should ‘view the show however and whereever you usually watch TV at home. No need to be a TV critic, don’t take notes, we just want to know what you feel about this show.‘
So, I opened the first envelope just before watching it. It included ‘Prize Entry Form #1′ and a booklet. The booklet contained pictures of various products sorted into type and numbered off. The instructions asked that I go through each of the products and list which ones I would like to receive as a prize. Now, presumably, each product was included as a method of finding out which products people would like to use. Duh. But, seriously, in terms of prize content it was pretty lame. I had some seriously amazing and worthwhile choices, yo. Shampoo, conditioner, facial moisturisers, breakfast cereal, lollies, toilet cleaner. Woohoo, sign me up! I participated in SRS RSRCH and I won toilet cleaner! The possibilities were endless and not at all difficult to go out and procure myself were I to suddenly want [Random Item]. No, really.
At any rate, I filled out the form, hemmed and hawed over X-type moisturiser over Q-type moisturiser, considered the possibilities of allergic reaction with F-type laundry powder or liquid, and seriously considered the fibre content of cereal C over cereal Y. (Well, no, I didn’t. I thought ‘which is least likely to make me barf’) and then, at 9:00 last night, I put the DVD in and sat down to watch it.
Sci-Fi Necrolepsy: I was only a little bit dead.
I promised myself I wasn’t going to go on and on and on about what I don’t like on film, and focus on the things I do like, but the mental rant I keep returning to when I’m wandering about doing nothing things is the concept of death in Sci-Fi (as a genre).
Sci-Fi’s relationship with death is disturbing. The fact that any character who’s killed off for some reason or other can just be brought back and carry on as though nothing was wrong sucks any emotional impact out of any dangerous situation the characters may be put in. I find myself unable to worry about the main characters in most Sci-Fi beyond a simple ‘oh, how are they going to get out of this one?’ which usually develops to ‘oh, that’s how they got out of that one. Hey, wow, I have solitaire on this computer.’ This is usually due to the fact that, if they do die, they’ll most likely be back in some form or other, or, if they’re main characters, they were never really in any danger to begin with.
As a viewer, I tend to develop attachments to my favourite characters. It’s what we do; how we interact with the shows on more than just a passive level. These attachments (relationships, not in an erotomaniacal sense, perhaps?) are what keep me invested in the show and its relative success. As I stated in a previous entry: Movies are a one night stand, Television is an abusive relationship. The emotional highs and lows are what keep me coming back to television time and time again. If I can’t get those emotional highs and lows because I can never really worry about the welfare of the characters, then the entire thing becomes a moot point and I’m essentially watching sexless porn. (My, those actors are pretty, I wonder what ridiculous situation they’ll be put in next. Ho hum.)
Occasionally, character resurrections are done well within the context of the piece. I’m thinking mostly Buffy* (s1, pretty lame, but s6 dealt with it well), and Alien: Resurrection (sure, the movie was average, but the resurrection was handled relatively well, plus: Dourif and Perlman, ftw). I’m sure there are others, but these are the ones my brain has, inexplicably, decided to focus on. Anyway, the reasons these resurrections worked? Because they dealt with the ramifications of bringing someone back from the dead, something which a lot of Sci-Fi doesn’t really do.
Take, for example, the Stargate universe. Characters are yo-yo-ing in and out of this and other plains of existence, blown to itty bitty pieces and cloned, misplaced, found under a rock on a distant planet covered in cream cheese and doing the hula. (Okay, maybe that last one’s an exaggeration.) The deaths in these series ultimately mean nothing. If the characters can just pop back into the canon with minimal fuss, then it’s the sci-fi equivalent of stepping out of the shower and finding out it was all just a dream. It really feels like I’m being cheated out of an emotional response. If I can’t mourn for a character (yes, yes, fiction, stfu), then what’s the point in feeling anything for any of the characters?
Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy watching the shows (well, I enjoy Sheppard and McKay, and they have the least likelihood of anything bad ever happening to them, see: guano loco fans having the writers guts for garters, then deploy the plot armour, allons-y Alonzo), but I can never really get past it being like a coffee table book; pretty and an excellent conversation starter, but not really having any lasting impact unless it’s thrown with great force at a dissenter’s head.
Sometimes, a death will come along, and you’ll know it’s a ‘real’ death. (Spoilers: highlight to view. Yes, even five+ years later.) Anya in the Buffy s7 finale, Buffy’s mother in the episode which proved that people don’t need a musical cue to feel complex emotions, Fred in Angel, which technically isn’t a death but still the removal of a character. I’m sure there are more, but my brain is wired to the Buffy and Stargate ‘verses at the moment, strangely. The removal of these characters, without possibility of resurrection, leaves a lasting emotional impact which lingers on in the minds and emotions of the characters, making it real and painful for them, and ultimately making it real and painful for us, as the audience.
What it all boils down to, and this is my major problem, is that death is the thing, the Big Thing, which informs the way we act and react. It is what makes us fear and worry for characters on the screen and gives us that connection to them when they’re in peril. If death is taken away as being the ultimate emotional trauma (and, yes, there are other ways to put the characters and audience through the emotional wringer, but death tops the list), then how can we connect with them on all the other levels the writers expect us to?
Death absolutely must be a constant. Without it, the characters are just fighting to not have a shitty death+resurrection/return scene, which, in the grand scheme of things, sucks donkey balls with a hoover in a black hole.
*Does Buffy count as Sci-Fi? s4, maybe, but, whatever.
Movies are a one night stand. Television is an abusive relationship.
Television.
I’m sometimes appalled by how much I love television. Well, not all television; I’m not as enamoured with some genres as I am with others, I don’t particularly care about the wheeling and dealing the buyers and planners do to get the content on air (as long as they don’t sacrifice whichever show I’m watching to make way for ad content; Channel Seven, I’m looking at you), and I have very definite preferences about what I like within a show. I’m always trying to qualify what I watch and why because, ironically, the thirty second grabs for current affairs shows have me convinced that television is inherently evil. Granted, I’m not twelve any more and I don’t have to run what I’m watching past Mum (even then, her approach was that if I could present a cogent and coherent argument for why I wanted to watch something, I was allowed to watch anything. Anything.), but I still have the, perhaps bizarre, notion that watching TV will rot my brain and turn me into some slobbering, hip-jutting, gum-popping, trend-following, moron wearing a cheap, Supre ‘Girls on Film’ t-shirt without any idea that it’s a song about pornography by Duran Duran and not an assertation of feminism and support of Helen Mirren.
I prefer to think that’s not the case. I prefer to think that Television is a pit stop between here and there; disseminating ideas and information in bullet point so that I can go to a more reliable source and find out more. This is as much applicable to fictive television as it is to the news and documentaries. Actually, probably more so since I don’t rely on television (in the broadcast sense) to bring me documentaries and the news as it stands is barely a step above tabloid journalism in its current sensationalist nature: disaster! disaster! injustice! sport. weather. human interest!
It’s really not that much different from the “issues based” drama I’ve seen in my time; it takes a little longer to disseminate, but it makes the same points, but with more over-acting and fewer … well, I can’t actually think of what there’s fewer. SVU practically does panel discussions, 24 does intercuts, and most of them have intractable, perfectly coiffured hair. Dramatic television shows take on social and political issues at greater depth, and often greater (if biased, but when is anything in the media not biased?) accuracy. Why am I supposed to believe that there is any less merit in watching narrative television rather than the news?
I have no idea.
But, anyway. I didn’t actually want to get caught up in a rant about the news. At least I managed to avoid reality television; that would probably have just been a vitriolic deluge of bilious invective, which, while fun, probably wouldn’t have helped.
But, I digress.
Leadership. Television.
There are shows I watch with regularity. There are shows I watch on and off. There are shows I fell hard for in the beginning, but stopped watching for one reason or other. There are shows that annoy me, shows that I adore beyond reason, shows that make me want to put the remote through the TV screen with great force, and shows that don’t even rate a seconds pause when I flash through.
A lot of the time, it comes down to two things: writing and character. I can forgive a lot of things if its well written and the characters are owned by the actors. Sure, I’ll point out the flaws and mock them within an inch of their lives, but I’ll generally keep watching.
There are, of course, a few exceptions.