Either way, my flatmates and I don’t really watch any of the movies in the ‘Oscar Genre’ (because, let’s face it, it’s as much a genre as Indie Comedy) and we’re all for abusing ‘science’ for our own petty amusement. In short, we decided to have a competition to see who could pick the most winners, seeing the fewest films, and using the most random method possible.

Basically, what it all boils down to is this: I sent out a form with the 12 major categories (and 5 optional categories) and the respective nominees to 8 people who came up with bizarre and inane methods for picking the winners. Or, as we’ve been calling it “The Blind Oscars”.

And because we love competition, we’ve split up into teams.

(Given the nature of my writing style, and the potential for embarrassment, everyone involved has been given a Cunning Pseudonymn. Chosen at Random.)

Without further ado, here are…

THE TEAMS

Team Science is:
Cookie Slop Trebuchet – a physicist,
Sebastian Fluffy Plap – a different kind of physicist; and,
Associate-Professor Soggybottom – an engineer.

Team Arts is:
Skinny Biscuit The Third – a writer (and ‘conjoined twin’ *coughTeamEffortcough*),
Regina Archibald-Camembert – a different kind of writer; and,
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling – a publisher.

Finally, Team Control is:
Kitty Von Deutschmark – someone who knows a shitload about film; and,
Squirrel McGee The Mighty – someone who knows jack shit about film.

If you can guess which one is me, you win three internets. (The cost of postage and handling will be deducted from said internets.)

Now that all the needlessly competitive stuff is out of the way, onto the fun part where we make fools of ourselves in new and interesting ways!

Before I get to the predictions, we should take a quick look-see at how we all came up with them. The only instructions everyone was given was that the method had to include some element of randomness, and that seeing as few of the contenders as possible was a benefit. (As it stands, all eight of us have only seen four or five of the movies.)

So, what bizarre and odd ideas were employed to reach these stunning conclusions?

THE METHODS

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: “Pi knows all! I used the digits of pi in order (3.14159265…); if the digit was bigger than the number of options in the category, I went to the next digit.”

Sebastian Fluffy Plap: “To vote (if possible) for something that could be related back to Benedict Cumberbatch.” (I approve. D.)

Associate-Professor Soggybottom: “Mostly by fun sounding names, though sometimes just because I wanted a particular one to win.”

Skinny Biscuit The Third: “We used the simplest numerical conversion for the alphabet (A=1, B=2, etc.). Originally we were going to simply add the letter of each part of the movie title/actor’s name, etc, but this meant the the longest word was simply the most likely to win. Instead we went with the total of the first 4 letters (this is the length of the shortest title – Hugo). We did not include the words “the” or “a”. In the event of a tie (this happened once), we added the 5th letter of the word to the total.”

Regina Archibald-Camembert: “I added up the number of consonants in a nominees name (film, performer, etc) and divided it by the number of vowels. The number closest to 1 wins. If more than one had the same low number, the winner was chosen by whimsy (and not wanting Jonah Hill to have an Oscar).”

Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: [FOOTAGE NOT FOUND]

Kitty Von Deutschmark: “Who does Hollywood hate the least, generally.”

Squirrel McGee The Mighty: “Alphabetical by last letter for film names. Alphabetical by first name for people.”

I find it kind of amusing that Team Arts went with super involved, vaguely scientific rationales and Team Science really … didn’t. Though, I am moderately disappointed that nobody tried to read chicken gizzards…

Ayway, now that we know, we can get on to the part that most people are interested in anyway:

THE PREDICTIONS

BEST PICTURE

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: War Horse
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Midnight In Paris
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Hugo
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Kitty Von Deutschmark: The Descendants
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: The Tree of Life

ACTOR IN A LEADING ROLE

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Damián Bichir, A Better Life
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Gary Oldman, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Damián Bichir, A Better Life
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Gary Oldman, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Regina Archibald-Camembert: George Clooney, The Descendants
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: George Clooney, The Descendants
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Gary Oldman, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Jean Dujardin, The Artist

ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Meryl Streep, The Iron Lady
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Glenn Close, Albert Nobbs
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Meryl Streep, The Iron Lady
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Rooney Mara, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Rooney Mara, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: Meryl Streep, The Iron Lady
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Viola Davis, The Help
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Viola Davis, The Help

ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Kenneth Branagh, My Week With Marilyn
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Christopher Plummer, Beginners
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Christopher Plummer, Beginners
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Max Von Sydow, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Nick Nolte, Warrior
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: Kenneth Branagh, My Week With Marilyn
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Max Von Sydow, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Nick Nolte, Warrior

ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Octavia Spencer, The Help
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Octavia Spencer, The Help
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Octavia Spencer, The Help
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Jessica Chastain, The Help
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Bérénice Bejo, The Artist
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: Melissa McCarthy, Bridesmaids
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Octavia Spencer, The Help
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Octavia Spencer, The Help

(So much for randomness… D.)

DIRECTING

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Alexander Payne, The Descendants
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Martin Scorcese, Hugo
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Martin Scorcese, Hugo
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Woody Allen, Midnight In Paris
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Michel Hazanavicius, The Artist
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: Terrence Malick, The Tree Of Life
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Martin Scorcese, Hugo
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Terrence Malick, The Tree Of Life

WRITING (ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY)

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: A Separation, Asghar Farhadi
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Bridesmaids, Annie Mumolo & Kristen Wiig
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Bridesmaids, Annie Mumolo & Kristen Wiig
Skinny Biscuit The Third: The Artist, Michel Hazanavicius
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Bridesmaids, Annie Mumolo & Kristen Wiig
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: Bridesmaids, Annie Mumolo & Kristen Wiig
Kitty Von Deutschmark: The Artist, Michel Hazanavicius
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Margin Call, J.C. Chandor

WRITING (ADAPTED SCREENPLAY)

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: The Ides of March, George Clooney & Grant Heslov & Beau Willimon
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: The Descendants, Alexander Payne & Nat Faxon & Jim Rash
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: The Descendants, Alexander Payne & Nat Faxon & Jim Rash
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Bridget O’Conner & Peter Straughan
Regina Archibald-Camembert: The Ides of March, George Clooney & Grant Heslov & Beau Willimon
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: Moneyball, Steven Zaillian And Aaron Sorkin Story By Stan Chervin
Kitty Von Deutschmark: The Ides of March, George Clooney & Grant Heslov & Beau Willimon
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: The Ides of March, George Clooney & Grant Heslov & Beau Willimon

FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: A Separation, Iran
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Monsieur Lazhar, Canada
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Monsieur Lazhar, Canada
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Monsieur Lazhar, Canada
Regina Archibald-Camembert: A Separation, Iran
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: In Darkness, Poland
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Footnote, Israel
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Bullhead, Belgium

CINEMATOGRAPHY

Associate-Professor Soggybottom: War Horse, Janusz Kaminski
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: The Artist, Guillaume Schiffman
Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Hugo, Robert Richardson
Regina Archibald-Camembert: The Tree of Life, Emmanuel Lubezki
Skinny Biscuit The Third: The Artist, Guillaume Schiffman
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling:
Kitty Von Deutschmark: The Artist, Guillaume Schiffman
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: The Tree of Life, Lubezki

FILM EDITING

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: The Descendants, Kevin Tent
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Hugo, Thelma Schoonmaker
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: The Artist, Anne-Sophie Bion & Michel Hazanavicius
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Hugo, Thelma Schoonmaker
Regina Archibald-Camembert: The Artist, Anne-Sophie Bion & Michel Hazanavicius
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: The Descendants, Kevin Tent
Kitty Von Deutschmark: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, Kirk Baxter & Angus Wall
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Moneyball, Christopher Tellefsen

MUSIC (ORIGINAL SONG)

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Real in Rio, Rio
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Man or Muppet, The Muppets
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Man or Muppet, The Muppets
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Man or Muppet, The Muppets
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Real in Rio, Rio
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: Man or Muppet, The Muppets
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Man or Muppet, The Muppets
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Real in Rio, Rio

MUSIC (ORIGINAL SCORE)

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Alberto Iglesias
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Alberto Iglesias
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: The Artist, Ludovic Bource
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Alberto Iglesias
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Alberto Iglesias
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: The Adventures Of Tintin John Williams
Kitty Von Deutschmark: The Artist, Ludovic Bource
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: War Horse, John Williams

VISUAL EFFECTS

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Real Steel
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: [No Entry]
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Transformers: Dark Side of the Moon
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Rise of the Planet of the Apes
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Real Steel

COSTUME DESIGN

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Hugo
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: [No Entry]
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Anonymous
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Anonymous
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Jane Eyre
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: [No Entry]
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Jane Eyre
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: Jane Eyre

ART DIRECTION

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: Hugo
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: [No Entry]
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Midnight In Paris
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Hugo
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Midnight In Paris
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: [No Entry]
Kitty Von Deutschmark: Hugo
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: War Horse

SOUND EDITING

Cookie Slop Trebuchet: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
Sebastian Fluffy Plap: [No Entry]
Associate-Professor Soggybottom: Drive
Skinny Biscuit The Third: Transformers: Dark Side of the Moon
Regina Archibald-Camembert: Hugo
Twinkface Gorgonzola Bling: [No Entry]
Kitty Von Deutschmark: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
Squirrel McGee The Mighty: War Horse

If I’d known it would have taken that much coding and formatting I probably would have … done it anyway. /sucker

Now with five days to go before the ceremony, we wait and try not to remember how silly we all look. We’re having a mini-party on the day and I’ll probably be live tweeting the results (by Cunning Pseudonym, not by actual winner, if you were worried about spoilers). Go Team Arts!

See you at the post-mortem!

Drawn by Brodie O’Mara of Mad Dog McGillicuddy and His Rabid Band of Howler Monkeys, who also did something awesome for Metallurgy.

It’s awesome and NSFW and I would totally watch this movie.

Click to see it in its full glory.

I bring you Fucked Up and Farcical: Putting the Anal Back in Analysis.

I intend this to be a series of glib, cynical, and downright contrary analyses of movies I’ve seen, applying the most fucked up and logically illogical arguments I can come up with. Basically, it’s all a farce. None of these arguments are intended to be taken seriously, and are, in fact, completely disposable, potentially offensive, rimshot readings of popular texts.

Interpretation over intention, baby. All the way.

There will be spoilers.

So, without further ado, let us begin.

Unstoppable is an Allegory for Blowjob Etiquette

It’s early morning in the rail yard. The sun is peeking over the horizon and huge motherfucking trains are gearing up for a long, hard day of shunting and tugging and grinding the rails. The image skips and blurs, showing us that, even while stationary, these mean beasts have a megatonne of raw energy building up just waiting to explode.

We’re aware of the fact that long pointy objects are all representations of cocks, yeah? Great. It shouldn’t be too much of a leap to go from A Cigar Is Not Necessarily A Cigar to This Giant Motherfucking Train Represents My Cock So Treat It With Respect Or It Will Decimate Small-To-Medium Sized Towns, Comprende?

Wait, I should go back. It’s all fun and glib to say ‘Haha! A train! It represents a cock!’ and then just power through the film with every argument being ‘The train is a cock! Geddit? THE TRAIN IS A COCK!’, which, sure – a lot of this will be that. Cocks are hilarious. I’m totally on board with mocking the cock. Cockmocking, if you will. What I’m saying is, I have an even better reason for arguing that it’s about cocks and blowjobs.

If we understand that the first part of the movie is to introduce the characters, get their basic motivations underway, then it’s already in the bag. This is the introduction of Will Colson (Chris Pine):

—

—

This is two minutes and thirteen seconds into the film and it’s on screen for an entire second. That’s a lot of time to devote to an unnecessary cock shot in a ninety minute action movie. It is therefore perfectly logical to deduce that this movie is about the adventures of Will Colson and His Cock. Perfectly logical. Shut up.

So, anyway. A minute and a half later we’re introduced to Frank Barnes (Denzel Washington). We’re not shown a close up of his cloth encased manhood virilely straining against its bonds, so we can tell it’s not about his cock. We just know that he is the elder statesman, so to speak, of the rail yard and he is going to teach Colson the ropes and impart all his knowledge of cock wrangling trains and shit.

Colson and Barnes take a back seat for a while while they get the rest of the exposition out of the way. Basically, what it boils down to are that there are two incompetent guys moving a train, and a whole heap of kids learning about train safety getting on another train.

The kids are unimportant beyond the fact that they’re going to be In Danger later on. They’re supposed to be what gets us to care that the train’s going to crash, or something… Pfft, children. Whatever.

The incompetent guys on the other hand are plot-developingly incompetent. The worst kind, if you ask me. They’re moving a train from one place to another, because that’s what you do in a rail yard. The train is 39 cars and half a mile long, which, if you’ve ever had a conversation with a drunk guy at a bar after 1am, is about average. Oh, yeah, and it has no air brakes. Those are apparently important for remotely stopping the train. Just so’s you know why the film wasn’t only 20 minutes long and not about blowjobs.

Anyway, they’re moving the train and they realise that a switch needs to be pulled so they end up on the right track. So the guy driving the train, flips it into idle and jumps out of the cab to go flick the switch.

Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.

In an amazing twist, the levers start moving by themselves, throwing the train from Idle to Full Throttle.

I know, I know, I’ll get back to how it’s like a cock soon.

The train speeds off, the driver can’t catch up, and they’re left in the dust.

And in the first ten minutes you’ve got pretty much all the facts you really need. The only things that weren’t covered was the fact that some of the cars on the train are full of some sort of nasty toxic goop that will kill everyone and make kittens cry. And the fact that the yardmaster is Connie Hooper – a lady. With ladyparts.

The rest of the movie is about blowjobs and how not to give them. I swear.

Behold: The Monster
—

The guy jumping off the train was actually the first salient point about how not to give a blowjob. To wit…

The first rule of blowjobs: Don’t be jumping off once you’ve started.

Seriously, yo, bitches be trippin’ if they think they can just get it all revved up and then flip things into idle so they can go flick their switch and change tracks entirely. Honestly, anyone would think this whole sex thing was equal opportunity or some shit. Man!

For what it’s worth, I am actually chillaxin’ on the hood of a Skyline with my hos amidst an ostentatious display of wealth, so that paragraph totally gets to stand. Also, I’m wearing all white. And it’s nighttime. Fo’ shizzy.

The second rule of blowjobs? No cockblocking.

If you’ve got your cock full of nameless children on the line and another cock full of nasty, toxic goop that makes puppies weep and flowers shrivel and die is already on that line and coming at full speed? You get your cock onto the siderails, boy. Wait your turn. There’ll be other rails.*

This happened about four times during the movie: the train with the children, a trailer full of horses, an engine trying to slow the train down, the tail end of Colson and Barnes’ train. The first one survived, the second three were destroyed. Clearly, you gotta stay the fuck outta the cock’s way, y’dig?

As an adjunct to this rule, if your cock is carrying some sort of vile, vicious goop that will make many, many people, places, people’s places, and tracts of farmland very unhappy, the only people you need to tell is nobody corporate. Try and keep that shit under wraps as much as possible, yo. You don’t want anyone knowing what kind of danger they’re in; that kind of bad press could ruin your ability to get more… track.

…Moving on.

Rule three? The lady is not in charge.

You can tell she’s a lady by her long, lustrous hair.
—

Regardless of the fact that Connie’s the one down there in the thick of things – on her knees, eh? eh? – she will be advised about what’s going to happen. She is toothless and powerless and can only sit there and watch while the big boys in the head office call all the shots. Oh, and don’t even think about listening to her about derailing this bad boy. See Rule One. Everyone just has to kneel down, relax and take it until Stanton ends up with a mouth full of herp streets running with noxious nasty goop that makes deer stop wanting to frolic and birds’ feathers fall out.**

Four: No queue jumping.

Similar to the cock blocking rule, the queue jumping rule refers specifically to attacks from unexpected places. At no point during the blowjob should anyone abseil from a helicopter onto your junk any unexpected third parties try and get in on the action***. Unless you like that kind of thing. Or it’s Denzel Washington, and he sneaks up from the base. Or it’s Chris Pine and he’s… Chris Pine. But if they’re wearing an inordinate amount of safety gear, you may want to consider your position carefully.

Alternatively, it could be about crabs. And how they have helicopters now.

PUBIC LICE HAVE TAKEN TO THE AIR AND THEY’RE COMING FOR YOUR CROTCHES! EVERYBODY HIDE!

The giant, abseiling louse is waving!
—

See?

…

Five: Treat the cock with respect.

Remember to pay attention to the shaft as much as the rest, but for the love of all that is good and pure, do not riddle it with bullets peck at that shit like a hen. You are not a pigeon. The cock is not the playground where you scratch for dinner. Cocksucking is a motherfucking art form, yo. No poking, no prodding, no sharp sudden movements that could end in puncture wounds, and absolutely no projectiles.

Aww, even the discharge from the gun looks like a penis!
—

Shooting is bad. Unless it’s your load. Fact.

Six: NO TEETH.

You’d think that teeth would be the best defence against cocks of any calibre; In Shawshank Redemption Andy Dupree made a point of it in the most perversely satisfying attempted rape scene in cinematic history. There’s the biting and the jaw clenching and the sudden unexpected nom and whatnot. But, no, in Magical Speeding Cockland teeth are no obstacle.

In another piece, this would be a vagina dentata reference.
—

In Magical Speeding Cockland, teeth are destroyed at the mere mention of derailment. Fragments fly off and destroy cop cars***. The cock powers onwards, amused but not hindered by the pithy attempts to stop it.

So, in short, biting and whatnot is not advised, lest ye be destroyed and arrested for defacement of police property.

Seven: Change it up.

Suck, suck, suck, there’s only so much sucking one movie cocktrain can take. You’ve got to to match speeds and then alternate full throttle with dynamic braking. Remember to suck with all the force of a black hole using an industrial wetvac, and then ease off – but you better have a firm hold of that base or you’ll just lose control of that cockmissile and it’ll shoot off into the distance and blow its load all over the elevated curve of yo’ tits Stanton.

Eight: Go All The Way.

Sure, DT’s a practised skill, but that means pretty much Sweet FA to the cocktrain. If you’re going to go down, you go all the way. And don’t be stopping to pull the brakes along the way. It doesn’t matter if you’re Denzel Motherfucking Washington and you’re awesome; don’t be pulling those brakes.

One small brake for a man…
—

If can’t go all the way, you’ll probably be forgiven, but the cocktrain will be judging you. And how.

Finally, Nine: Don’t Stop.

…one giant leap onto a penis metaphor.
—

It doesn’t matter if you jump onto the back of a truck and bypass all of the shaft to get to the head of that monster cockmissile, when you get there, you work it.

Don’t use your hands for evil.
—

You don’t shut everything down by throwing on the brakes.

The ending of an action movie BJ should be a climax, not a glide into a slow stop. There should be stuff flying everywhere and explosions going off. None of this deceleration business; that’s for when your mother walks in on you and your track and your train becomes flaccid.

Bonus Rule: Be Polite.

Seal it with a kiss.
—

Remember to let her appropriately show her gratitude for the experience. It’s just nice.

In conclusion: Trains = Cocks.

—

*Yeah, I don’t know what that means either. Doesn’t sound good, though. Maybe the rails are like a vagi- THERE’S NO VAGINAS IN BASEBALL BLOWJOBS! … Shut up and focus on the blowjobs.
**Okay, so, nobody actually knows what this stuff does. It’s used in glue and can fuck shit up.
***You try and work out a way to mention that a guy abseils from a helicopter onto a penis metaphor that relates to blowjobs and see how you do. He abseils from a helicopter onto a penis metaphor. /argument
****Cop cars parked ridiculously close to where they intended to derail the train. Now that I’ve seen it I can’t stop with the wtf. I mean, sure, bigger fish, n’all, but… ah fa fa… BLOWJOBS.

—

If it weren’t for the fact that this piece is dripping so much sarcasm that I may as well be sitting in a paddling pool of liquid irony I would think that this may well have been the most anti-feminist thing I’ve ever written. Still feeling a little dirty, though. Eh.

Note: I can actually write pieces with reason and argument. You can find them under Essays. There’s also free narrative fiction under, funnily enough, Fiction. /pimping

ETA: There’s now art of the most awesome variety. Brilliant!

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.

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.

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.

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)

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…’

Grey’s Anatomy
It’s my guilty pleasure. It’s ridiculous and self-involved and I have no idea wtf they’re doing with Izzy and George used to own me but now he doesn’t because he got lame but, Oh! I can’t stop watching. Fun Fact: The only TV show I’ve ever been addicted to where I would happily smite the two main characters (Derek and Meredith) without batting an eyelid.

Leverage
Leverage makes me squee a little like Flashpoint. It’s a bit more heavy handed and clearcut in its Morality Tales than Flashpoint, but the acting, editing and writing make me keep coming back. Also, ever since Jekyll, I’ve wanted to see Gina Bellman with another meaty role. (I seriously could not stand Jane in Coupling.)

NCIS
This. Just for the fact that I believe that DiNozzo (not so) secretly loves McGee.

Nip/Tuck
This show is on crack. It’s so damn hard to follow because a metric arsetonne of plot development happens offscreen (wtf, writers? Do your job more gooder!) and half the time it seems like they’re throwing darts at a dartboard covered with Enquirer Articles to come up with plotlines. (Also, Lesbians don’t just need a good hard cocking. If you do it again I’m going to have to assume that you’ve hired Russel T. Davies on the writing staff and Nip/Tuck’s going to take a turn to some dodgy sci-fi.)

Psych
It’s simple, yet effective. Sometimes I think both Sean and Gus are dicks (a character in a comedy shouldn’t know he’s in a comedy…), but it’s still got a high Laugh-to-Airtime ratio. Also, Psych Outs! (Which were much better when they were spontaneous… Just saying.)

Robot Chicken
I always used to tell people that I didn’t watch Robot Chicken – I put it on and watched my mother watch Robot Chicken. Her face would become so expressive, shifting from ‘wtf?’ to ‘No, seriously, WTF?’ to ‘Ow. My brain.’ in a matter of seconds. (Of course, I’ve been addicted since they had Sephiroth as the manager of a burger store. /nerd)

Supernatural
It’s up against Grey’s Anatomy, so I usually go with whichever one I feel like watching that day and then catch the timeshift. But, yes. Loving that they got back to Monster of the Week and am really kinda of over the Angels and Demons thing. I’d like to see them balance it a bit more evenly, but, hey, monsters. N’stuff.

The Big Bang Theory
So much freaking love for this show. Going by the ‘Laughs-to-Airtime’ ratio: Everybody Loves Raymond is a 0:20, The Big Bang Theory is 20:20. (3 before the opening credits is awesome in my books.)

United States of Tara
I’m kind of glad I didn’t know this was created by Diablo Cody before I started watching it. I thought Juno was a print-out and Lucy-shuffle of Urban Dictionary that was sweet, but had few other redeeming qualities. (Unpopular opinion is unpopular.) But, United States of Tara manages to go a little beyond that. Sure, it has the token Genius Male Child and Slutty and Sassy Female Child Trope of Doom and Despair, but it also has Toni Collette, who is kind of amazing in the role. A far cry from Muriel, truth be told.

On the Backburner
Either cancelled or got ahead of me or I’m holding off on making a judgement until I’ve seen more. Or they’re on the way out… Alas.

Burn Notice
What can I say, it got ahead of me. It was moved around and fasttracked, slowtracked, backtracked and asspacked back home before I moved, so I lost track (ha! punny.) of what was going on and I don’t like coming in in the middle of a plotline. So, I’m either going to have to wait until the box set comes out, or find someone with all the eps on DVR. See Also: Bruce Campbell and Sharon Gless. Win!

Demons
It could be so good. It could be interesting. It could strive to be a little less of a Buffy knockoff. But that’s not really going to happen because it’s from the BBC, and their kids oriented sci-fi is never that crash hot. Watchable, but only just. (Jekyll? Now there was some quality sci-fi. Yay, grownups!)

Dexter
Also got ahead of me. I was travelling, it was travelling, we took different roads and now I don’t know what’s going on with it. I do know that Dexter married Deb (offscreen), which hopefully won’t effect how I watch the show, but after Dexter started getting chummy with the DA, I have no clue what’s going on. Alas.

Eureka
It has been gooone forever! I’ve heard rumours of it coming back at some point this year, but I haven’t been paying enough attention to know exact dates. If there are exact dates. Anyway, it’s big dumb fun and I want it to come back. We’ll just ignore the fact that I think Zane is the bastard offspring of John Sheppard and Rodney McKay (if the Ancients could come up with a personal shield and a time travelling puddlejumper, they could come up with something to send the genetic offspring of two men back in time to midwest America. S’all I’m saying.)

Heroes
I still kind of watch it, but I don’t find it as gripping as it used to be. I think all the timetravelling, retconning, power-swapping has gotten to be a bit much. And I’m saying that as someone who plays all the sidequests and whatnot in video games (see: Final Fantasy VII reference earlier). It’s just a little… ho-hum. (Impossible to please fan is impossible to please.)

Lie To Me
I’m reserving judgment on this one until I’ve seen more. Tim Roth with his own accent is awesome, but as it stands it hasn’t grabbed me and it’s a little too Criminal Minds for me. Time will tell…

MythBusters
Basically, it’s a non-linear show so I don’t need to keep track of it. I mostly just watch it for the explosions, anyway. Yay, explosions!

Pushing Daisies
I adored it, but I lost track of it. I know it was cancelled, but I have no idea if they showed the last episode or not. I am way outta the loop on this one. Still, I adored its brightness and use of colour. It was (talking in the past tense here, uh oh) like Amélie meets Delicatessen; lavish and lush, light and bubbly, but with an undercurrent of darkness (without the cannibalism, natch).

Reaper
Thanks to looking up the other shows on TV.com, I just found out that Reaper’s returning at the end of February! Yay! For the longest time, my away message was “Sock, Bees are not nesting in your crotch.” ‘Nuff said.

Stargate: Atlantis
It’s not over until I’ve seen the last few episodes. And there are five waiting for me to shed the denial. Whatever they say, a telemovie and a brand new show (with Francis Fucking Begbie, wtf?) are no substitute.

True Blood
Just waiting for it to come back. Judgement reserved until after it’s cancelled. Until then…

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.

6. True Blood 1 minute 31 seconds

I’ve heard a lot about True Blood’s title sequence; some people are entranced by it, others think it’s the most base, film-school offal to have ever graced the small screen. I tend towards thinking that’s it’s textually rich and shows what the makers want the show to be.

True Blood has many issues in its dramatic execution; it’s hyperbolic and juvenile, has enormous race representation issues, and the characters aren’t (yet?) fleshed out enough to be much more than cardboard cut outs. And yet, I still watch. (I’ve heard from a lot of people that they’re mostly watching with their hormones, which, given the ratio of female to male nudity (leaning heavily on the side of the menfolk, ka-ching), makes a certain amount of sense.)

The title sequence itself, as has been stated, does look an awful lot like it was created by a film student in the wee hours of the morning, thinking ‘This is fucking amazing! I’m brilliant!’ (I’ve been there. Oh, have I been there…). The washed out colours and canted angles reek of My First Final Cut, and the timelapse shots of decaying roadkill scream The Director Wants To Be An Auteur, and yet, overall, it works.

True Blood’s subtle-as-a-sledgehammer approach to allegory is all laid out within the confines of its title sequence. The images of Southern Baptist congregations intercut with archive footage of race riots; the old grandeur of the deep south contrasted with the sweeping poverty of the white trash and hillbillies; the imagery of predators attacking set against humanities ultimate triumph over them; the world’s worst allegorical pun ‘God Hates Fangs’; sex, sex and more sex; all of these things lay out in no uncertain terms what the show is trying (trying!) to get across. It’s a show about intolerance, humanity and sex. Don’t forget the sex. And did I mention sex?

Oh, yeah, and vampires.

I could go on for pages examining all the images in this sequence, but it would feel like explaining the world’s simplest Knock-Knock joke. It has a certain early-Lynch quality — I would like to meet a single person who didn’t feel bludgeoned-over-the-head by Blue Velvet’s opening metaphor — which it tries to hide with its quick cuts, colour overlays, and damaged film effects, but what it all boils down to is the makers of the show want to make Statements about Race, Religion, Intolerance, and Sexuality. Unfortunately, it does it best in the title sequence. Hopefully season two will go some ways towards rectifying that. (Don’t hold your breath.)

7. Carnivale 1 minute 29 seconds

Carnivale Is Epic. There’s no other way to put it. The show encompasses the most basic and grand dichotomy — the fight between Good and Evil — through the eyes of a recently orphaned boy picked up by a travelling carnival, and a preacher in the 1930s Dust Bowl.

The title sequence apparently won an Emmy in 2004, and quite rightly so.

Beginning with the image of tarot cards falling in the sand coupled with the whisper of wind as the music begins to pick up, the sequence instantly invokes a feeling of history and mysticism. Slipping through the picture on The World card where two dimensions become three before settling into stock footage of the depression era, we’re at once brought into the thirties. Representations of wonder and industry in a wide scope contrast sharply with the bleak and desolate outlook of the common man before we’re drawn out through the turbulent waters of the Ace of Swords and delve back into Death.

The Death card takes us deeper into the despair of the depression, with the depths of the picture showing us a city and its people ravaged until we land, once again, in stock footage. Bare, stripped hills and the miners who worked them standing inert as the juxtaposing images of militaristic might and the family of Klan members give way to youthful innocence and naivety. The child becomes the face of an angel, revealed to be the King of Swords, and then we’re shooting back into the tarot through Temperance. (This is either an ironic representation, or the makers of the title sequence don’t have a dictionary.)

Temperance sees us straight back into the thirties with fast paced bongo beating and the quick shoe shuffle of the jitterbug that slips in to images of sports heroes and smiling children, back to the jitterbug and out through The Magician. We’re then thrust through the clash of arms in The Tower and into Washington, D.C. Signs point the way to City Hall past the random overfilled truck and its many waving hats to despondent faces of the impoverished masses as we settle on a speaker making grand proclamations from on high who morphs into the Judgement card. As we pull back from Judgement, we see the Moon and the Sun — representations of Evil and Good — which are then blown away to reveal the Carnivale title card.

The sequence roots the series firmly within the 1930s (though some of the footage is from the 40s), showing us images of good and evil throughout the period as a means of creating the notion of the grey area between the black and the white. As we delve through the stories the tarot cards have to tell us, we are presented with the way the show will delve through the stories of the protagonist and antagonist and, while it all boils down to good versus evil, it blurs those distinctions to the point where we have to judge for ourselves which is which. If there even is a distinction.

8. Twin Peaks 2 minutes 38 seconds

We’re going to pretend I didn’t blow my ‘omg this is long‘ wad on the Dexter subtitles and then completely ignored the length of both the True Blood and Carnivale titles, only to end up with this incredibly long sequence. I’m going to blame the fact that I watched it repeatedly on fast-forward when I was studying it at uni and as such, remember it as being about 40 seconds long. Whoops.

At any rate, David Lynch is an Artist. An Auteur. David Lynch does not care for your buttock cheeks and he will make you sit through the entire sequence. (David Lynch does not include chapter breaks on any of the movies and TV shows he has control over. David Lynch’s work is therefore very difficult to teach.)

This sequence is slow, meandering and ponderous. This can be attributed to the fact that a) the plotlines of the two seasons meander and weave around each other in their own time revealing information that often provides more questions than answers, and b) there are a hell of a lot of names to get through.

Twin Peaks is essentially an Arthouse Soap Opera; the people are exaggerated and larger than life, and the happenings are so convoluted and messed up that it’s no surprise it’s so engrossing. While the title sequence doesn’t reveal this aspect of the show, it does help create a dreamy atmosphere. The shift from the red-breasted robin (a staple of Lynch’s work – ah, the American Dream) to the factory with its methodic and precise machines, and onto the iconic image of the Welcome to Twin Peaks sign give us the impression of a small working town, set in its ways and resistant to change. Then comes the waterfall, churning and stirring everything up with no room for argument. While the sequence ends on a seemingly calm river, the eddies and ripples suggest that the river is anything but calm under the surface.

9. Chuck 30 seconds

This is the subversion I mentioned at some point. Chuck’s titles use the standard headshot motif while at the same time employing a stylised breakdown of the character of the show. I know a lot of the title sequences I disqualified do similar things, but they all got so samey after a while that just watching the credits often wasn’t enough to tell me what show I was watching and what distinguished it from the other shows I wasn’t watching.

The Action/Comedy elements are depicted with style as we follow the little Nerd Herd Spy Guy through a landscape of faces in a series of James Bond-esque genre trope nods. From the shots fired at the target as the Spy Guy runs past and eventually falls out of Zachary Levi’s nose, to the iconic spy genre barrel of a gun, we follow our little pixelated hero through the living landscape of the show’s cast. He is eventually set upon by an adorable ninja (they don’t happen so often as to be unremarkable) throwing shuriken which he neatly avoids by removing his head.

As you do.

The Chuck titles are remarkable in that they are just plain fun. They do, admittedly, cater to the genre savvy, but the entire show is geared towards the geek in all of us; those of us who take an enormous amount of glee in the metatextual elements that riddle the plots from start to finish. Using the faces of the cast as two dimensional objects to act as the little Spy Guy’s playground is a particularly inspired move as it gives us our bearings as to who the characters are (and what role they play by facial expression alone), while at the same time taking it a step further and creating a world in which the spy genre is reality.

And, seriously, that was one adorable ninja.

10. Astroboy 30 seconds

Finally, we have the replacement for [SHOW THAT WILL NOT BE NAMED]. I did a lot of searching and a lot of hemming and hawing and eventually decided that, yes, this post needed some 80s nostalgia. Hence: Astro Boy.

Astro Boy is, at least to me, iconic, and represents all that was awesome about growing up in the 80s. Given that I was a child at that time, I don’t have to worry about awful photos coming to light of me with a voluntary mullet teased to astounding heights coupled with a leotard over leggings and a baggy tee. No, I just have to remember how awesome and enthralling Astro Boy was. The title sequence really does say it all: he’s a Boy. He Flies. He Fights Giant Robots and Saves People. He has a Butt Gun and Finger Pistols. He may be Small but only in Size.

He is, in a word, Awesome.

We’re just going to ignore the fact that Astro Boy was created because, apparently, in the future they don’t realise that pre-teens and their dogs probably shouldn’t be driving hovercars and that distraught and grieving parents shouldn’t be allowed near that handy android building machine. And that Butt Guns are just a bad idea.

None of that is readily available within the title sequence (except the Butt Guns), but we’ll blame NBC Universal for that slight detour. The stuff I had planned for the [SHOW THAT WILL NOT BE NAMED] titles was actually, I think, pretty insightful with regards to [SHOW THAT WILL NOT BE NAMED]‘s overall reception. As far as I’m aware, it hasn’t been doing too crash hot in the ratings lately. Oh, well. We’ll never know what I had to say about it now. /self-indulgent wank.

At any rate, the television dramatic title sequence is fast becoming an endangered species. The kind of presentation I’ve examined will soon be reserved for the big screen realm where sequences like that of Fight Club and The Fall really get to shine. I just find it kind of sad that we’ll be losing the potential for so much great work ostensibly for more plot time, but we all know it’s just for more advertising…

Darnit. I just can’t let this post end on a downer. So, here. Have some 80s nostalgia titles for the road…

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.

1. Nip/Tuck 44 Seconds.

These were the titles that got me a) interested in Nip/Tuck, and b) thinking about this subject in the first place. I’d never really been interested in the show when it was airing; the few snippets of it I’d seen seemed shallow and dull, the main characters whiny, pathetic, self-loathing creations whose soap operatic lives were beyond my ken and interest. While this is all true of the show (barring the fact that I eventually developed an interest and the show is not actually very dull), a friend recommended I watch at least one episode. So, I did and the second I saw these titles I was intrigued and hooked.

The way the camera pans down the mannequins following the red line dashed between them and ending on the percussive sound of the heartbeat coupled with the twitching of the mannequin’s hand is a glorious start to the sequence. The hand carefully marking out a dashed line under the already perfect breasts coupled with the tight shots of smooth alabaster bodily excerpts wherein the camera pulls back to a warehouse setting showing models and mannequins haphazardly arranged in their own individual boxes, armless and legless and waiting to be shipped. The transition of perception from mannequin to person as the eyes open to reveal that the false is actually real. The stiff and rigid perceived perfection of the skin-toned mannequin against the cardboard cutout façade of Miami with its palm trees as her eyes move minutely. The slow transition from deathly white plaster to living, breathing flesh.

All these tiny transitions hold greater implications for the show as a whole. I’ve always been amazed at how well Nip/Tuck manages to be such a great purveyor of positive non-normative lifestyles and ways of being while being so indentured in a world of false expectations and misogynistic ideals, but the impetus for this is all within the title sequence. The opening images serve to demonstrate that the drama is derived from the restructuring of personal perceptions and finding the real person under the façade.

2. The Big Bang Theory 18 Seconds

Unfortunately, these were the best I could find. The beginning’s cut off, and it’s a little pixellated, but you get the general impression.

I’m not even going to pretend what all the images are in this sequence. Suffice to say, the slow build from the creation of the universe to the staccato rhythms of the evolution of the species and the great achievements of science over the centuries only to slam to a stop on a group of people eating curry in a lounge room creates the perfect representation of what the show is about. Not only that, the onslaught of imagery and information almost perfectly replicates Sheldon’s matter-of-fact, no nonsense, rapid-fire delivery of facts with no room for argument. Unfortunately, the sequence also promotes the idea that evolution has reached a point where nights of designated dining and pop culture references are the height of our modern existence and as such, we are all DOOMED.

(To be fair, my love of and for this show has reached a point where I recently bought an 8gb USB thumb drive, fixed it up with portable Firefox under 128-bit encryption, and named it Sheldon Cooper, Phd. Although, this speaks wonders for the show and its ability to fit itself perfectly into my viewing and fandom habits, it also reiterates that WE ARE DOOMED! *cough*)

3. Dexter 1 Minute and 31 Seconds

One of the things people always talk about when referring to Dexter, other than how it’s about a vigilante serial killer who is actually quite likeable, is the title sequence. The menial, daily tasks of preparing to leave the house take on a sinister (yet, oddly sensual) quality under such close scrutiny. The diegetic sounds coupling with the theme music (which, itself, has a somewhat Addams Family quality) as a finger scrapes across morning stubble and a knife slices through chunks of meat; the sizzle of the pan and the wet sounds of chewing painting the picture of a predator, hidden in plain sight amidst the monotony of modern life. The emphasis on the splashes of blood and liquid speak volumes of both Dexter’s private and public life (blood spatter analyst by day, blood spatter creator by night), and the emphasis on the violence inherent in each mundane act helps shed light on the difference, or lack thereof, between Dexter and general populace: Dexter has A Code. Do you? In meditating on his each and every action, Dexter (and this title sequence) shows an awareness of self and his surroundings not often found in most people.

In the show, proper, this is contrasted with Deb’s Where Angel’s Fear To Tread approach to both her personal and professional life. The title sequence, however, doesn’t have this balancing point, and so we are pulled inexorably in to Dexter’s world; we see his vision. Without knowing anything about the series, we can see that the person going through these ministrations is not necessarily particularly pleasant, and yet we are drawn into this world and are fascinated by it, we cannot get away, and neither can he.

The video cuts it off early in this clip, but following the dead eyed stare straight to camera (confirming our suspiscions that he is Not A Nice Guy), the key turns in the door and Dexter walks from his home into the sunlight, casting a neighbourly nod off camera; the private self has been locked away, and the pleasant façade slipped into place. The predator walks amongst us.

My only issue with this sequence is its length. As a stand alone, that’s fine, but as a precursor to every episode it’s a bit on the long side. That being said, it’s quite possibly one of my favourite title sequences ever. Ever.

And I just want to mention the blood orange, which I couldn’t find a space to do earlier. The blood orange is nauseating and inspired; the perfect combination of bloodshed and breakfast. The squelching, mangled remnants after it’s been juiced provide a perfect picture of what Dexter does, without, y’know, showing what he actually does.

4. Dead Like Me 1 Minute and 2 Seconds

In a similar vein to the Dexter sequence, Dead Like Me’s titles take the mundane aspects of life and make a statement with them.

Beginning with a subtle passage of time metaphor, the images progress accompanied by jaunty music showing Reapers setting about every day lives; no different than you or me. They walk their dogs, go to the gym, go to work and punch their time cards. (Do time cards still exist? o.O) They get bored by trivial paperwork and do stupid things with their office supplies, they’re uncoordinated and they abuse their office copying privileges. They eat their home-packed lunches alone outside their offices, check out the local talent, are baffled by people who seem to want to be like them, play team sports with their scythes (just like me!) and do their laundry regularly (…not like me). They read books for the articles (and not for the centrefolds…), and they brush their teeth and give themselves smug looks in the mirror (like me!).

In short, they’re dead, but they’re just like me.

This is one of the sequences I sit through every time I watch an episode, even during marathons. The music is just so upbeat and jaunty, and I always manage to catch something new each time I watch (the little reaper in the Laundromat! *pinches its cheeks*).

Dead Like Me was created by Bryan Fuller, who also created Wonderfalls and Pushing Daisies. This is barely relevant to the analysis, but a) they’re all awesome shows that should be watched and adored, and b) I was actually going to do Pushing Daisies here until I remembered that it doesn’t have a title sequence so much as a title seq-. As an alarming number of TV shows have abandoned the title sequence in favour of a simple title card (Pushing Daisies, Grey’s Anatomy, Supernatural, etc) to make way for more advertising plot advertising, it’s becoming apparent that the title sequence as a means of introducing the world of the characters is fast becoming a dying artform.

5. Grey’s Anatomy 26 Seconds

It’s short, it’s sweet, and it makes a point.

These are the titles from the first season of Grey’s Anatomy. They’ve since been edited down to the simple title card and I think the show is poorer for it. Ignoring the fact that, in its fifth season, the show is all over the place like a mad woman’s shit, I think if the titles were to be reinstated Grey’s Anatomy would make a tad more sense.

The entire sequence is a game of One Of These Things Just Doesn’t Belong Here, Sesame Street style; a pair of red heels amongst the paper-bootied, sensible footwear; an eyelash curler amidst scalpels; hands zipping up a dress that turns into a pair of scrubs; the drip of a saline IV turning into the splash of a Martini and finally two pairs of feet playing naked footsie on a gurney that pans down onto the pair of red heels as the curtain is swooshed shut.

The juxtaposition of the surgical setting scattered with the elements of excess perfectly explain what the show is about: maintaining a personal and professional identity as two things that are not exactly exclusive. The titles aid in reminding the viewer that the show isn’t just about doctors getting their rocks off, but about the relationship between the identity of the person behind the doctor, and the learning curve associated with becoming the Doctor. (Not The Doctor, mind. Though, if Izzy had a TARDIS, maybe she wouldn’t be so damn crazy now.)

The titles remind us that the show isn’t a medical drama, as such, it’s a character drama with medical elements. Were the titles there to remind me of that fact before every episode, it might lead to a little less yelling “But you’re a doctor! Stop being such a dumbass!” at every episode.

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And that’s the first five. Stay tuned for the next five, hopefully in the next couple of days.

If you want to be informed when the next part is up and available, there’s a neat little RSS button over there < -- somewhere, or you can follow me on Twitter. Short form blogging was created for quick pimping, ayup.

Continued…