ABC’s V: The Most Pro-Freedom Show on TV?

Morena Baccarin as the alien queen, Anna.

By Jason Apuzzo. Have you ever had the feeling – recently – that you were watching a classic?

I unexpectedly had that feeling Tuesday night watching ABC’s Season 2 premiere of V, even if – skeptic that I am – I’m not completely trusting that feeling just yet. I simply can’t believe this series could be as good as it currently appears to be. It must be a mirage, a hallucination – correct?

Over the holiday vacation, I’d actually taken the time to finish the entire Season 1 of V on DVD, and was pleasantly surprised – no, overjoyed – that the series had taken the striking thematic turns it had. Of course, years of being saturated with Hollywood entertainment has taught me to be skeptical, and to resist giving myself over to politically-oriented network programming (which V most certainly is) unless I happen to know some of the people involved – ABC’s Path to 9/11 being an example – or otherwise have some grasp of the professional agendas in play.

Laura Vandervoort of ABC's "V."

But I’m reaching the breaking point with this new incarnation of the V series: I am, quite simply, loving it – and am in a state of ongoing shock as to what I’m seeing depicted on a show-by-show basis. Because what I’m seeing, in essence, is this:

• A show that dismantles the liberal-progressive/green-environmental vision of the world more thoroughly, and with greater wit and psychological insight, than any 3 prime-time shows on Fox News put together.

• A show that has somehow managed to anticipate (rather than merely follow) the anti-Obama, anti-big government, Tea Party vibe of our times – without losing its sense of timelessness, or the universality of its themes.

• A show that features among its primary heroes a Catholic priest/Iraq War Army chaplain-vet (how many times have you seen that on network TV?), paired with an FBI counter-terrorism agent. Ahem. The priest’s mission, incidentally, is to direct his parishioners’ faith toward God and transcendent values – rather than toward immanent political power, or toward wondrous lifestyle-technologies. What a message for our times!

• A show in which the menacing invader-aliens use the promise of universal health care and advanced green … excuse me, ‘blue’ technology to cultivate public addiction to their rule. Ahem, and double ahem.

• A show that portrays the news media as willing dupes of hostile invaders here to do us harm. (I can’t imagine where anybody got that idea, by the way.)

• A show depicting young, dumb teenage guys as being … young, dumb teenage guys – rather than as pseudo-divine Chosen Ones with ‘special powers’ here to save us all.

• A show featuring strong, intelligent, professional women as the lead characters – women deftly balancing their families and careers (after all, even an alien queen has to control her daughter!) – women who never lose either their femininity or their competitive edge.

• A show featuring Laura Vandervoort as an alien princess with a plunging neckline.

OK, perhaps the last point isn’t quite so critical here for our purposes, but you get the idea – there’s a lot to like about V.

Joel Gretsch as Father Jack Landry.

For those of you who aren’t otherwise familiar with the show, ABC’s V is a remake/reboot of NBC’s original V series from 1983, a series created by Kenneth Johnson – a TV legend responsible for shows like The Six Million Dollar Man and The Hulk. It’s not clear to me how much (if at all) Kenneth Johnson is involved in this new series, but having seen the original series – and having read both of Johnson’s superb V novels (including the most recent, from 2008) – I think that ABC’s current re-visioning of V is actually even better than the 1983 original from NBC. It’s storyline is richer, more sophisticated – and also frothier and more entertaining.

V in any of its various TV or novel incarnations is essentially a retelling of the familiar alien-invader stories that were so popular in 1950s sci-fi cinema; one thinks here of films like Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956), Invaders From Mars (1953), The Thing (1951), The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) or Earth vs. The Flying Saucers (1956). Or, for that matter, one thinks of more recent fare like Independence Day (1996) or the Alien and Predator series; and, when all is said and done, I expect that the V franchise is at some point going to take its place in pop culture alongside those other revered alien invasion films once this new series (and Kenneth Johnson’s hoped-for movie adaptation) has played itself out.

In V, gigantic alien saucers arrive over 29 major cities throughout the world carrying beings (‘Visitors’) who appear to look like us – and who claim to come in peace. The aliens profess to desire only a small, unspecified token of Earth’s resources, in exchange for which they offer to share their own technological and medical advancements.

Of course, we learn in short order that these alien visitors are not here in peace, at all, and that underneath their synthetically grown human skin they actually resemble reptiles – scaly, carnivorous reptiles with sharp tails. (If you’ve read Arthur C. Clarke’s Childhood’s End, this all may sound familiar.)

That’s the basic V setup. The remainder of the series – whether on the TV shows or in the novels – consists of the aliens’ complicated efforts to curry the social and political favor of their human hosts, to propagandize and control the human population in order to achieve an ultimate end. What that end is, exactly, is something I won’t reveal here in case you don’t already know – although, in fairness, the aliens’ mission appears to be somewhat different in the new series than in the original.

What’s interesting here, however, is that in their human skin – and while living among human beings on Earth – the aliens themselves begin to change. They begin to take on empathetic human emotions – i.e., they begin to go soft – and some even ‘fraternize’ with the enemy. (One thinks here of 1958’s I Married a Monster From Outer Space, a great little thriller from director Gene Fowler that riffs of 1949’s similarly fun I Married a Communist.) And so, in both the old series and the new one, aliens impregnate Earth women and hybrid children are born – complicating matters even further. Among other complications, these new ‘mixed marriages’ and children create a tension on time, as the alien leadership must rush to achieve their goal before their own kind begin to get too chummy with their Earth subjects …

Get ready for Obamacare.

Both the new and old series are great fun, and both series cleverly comment on the ways in which totalitarian-style governments – particularly those of the fascist and communist variety – win the hearts and minds of their populations through the now-familiar totalitarian bouillabaisse of trickery, false promises, bribery, surveillance, secret police and aggressive control of the media.

Kim Jong-il, are you watching?

What has been especially uncomfortable for many people, however, is how close the current V series seems to be to depicting/satirizing the current Obama Administration, and in satirizing ‘progressive’ rule in general. In case you missed the first episode of Season 2 this week, for example, the aliens promised to reverse global warming as another p.r. gesture in their ongoing seduction of Earth’s population. Doesn’t that sound familiar? I can’t think of a Democratic politician in the past ten years who hasn’t campaigned on that exact platform: Elect me and the tides will recede. I’ve spent most of my life living near the ocean in a state run by Democrats, and the tides somehow remain the same.

V wouldn’t be nearly so effective, however – it would merely be a kind of talk radio screed – if it weren’t so entertaining.

Now starting its second season, the show is starting to develop that iconic quality that great TV shows develop once they hit their full stride – and I think Brazilian-born actress Morena Baccarin as the wicked alien queen Anna is probably most responsible for that. She’s great fun to watch – and her behavior grows increasingly perverse and diabolical as the series goes on. She makes Hillary Clinton seem like Doris Day, and she might be the best alien queen since Laurie Mitchell in 1958’s Queen of Outer Space – although Jane Badler from the original V series is apparently coming back as Anna’s mother, so she’ll also be around to contend with, as well. (The rest of the cast is superb, as well – in particular Joel Gretsch as the priest and Scott Wolf as the slimy news anchor.)

Women rule the show.

A word on great female roles: V is full of them, and kudos to the show’s producers for putting strong, compelling female characters at the center of the V storyline – and particularly that of the FBI agent, played by Lost’s Elizabeth Mitchell. It’s all quite refreshing and humanistic, during what appears to be a misogynistic period for Hollywood.

And, more than that, I think the show’s fluidity with both male and female characters is an indication of V‘s special genius, because the show’s creators – starting with its original creator, Kenneth Johnson – have always understood (unlike so many of today’s current, ever-expanding crop of youngish sci-fi filmmakers) that alien invasion stories aren’t really about aliens. These are stories about the darker aspects of the human personality, and the way in which – through our actions – all of us have the potential to ‘dehumanize’ ourselves. Alien invasion stories such as V‘s are always ultimately about human beings, male and female, and our potential for good or evil.

And so, appropriately enough, V proceeds most of the time as a huge, extended family drama – in which everyone is gradually getting entangled in everyone else’s family, for better and for worse.

My sense is that this series is headed in a direction that will involve the Visitors and Earth’s human beings having to eventually find some way to live together, to co-habitate and compromise. Why? Because this, too, is the way of things – the way of history, the inevitable by-product of a mingling of peoples. And, interestingly, some of the political sting of the series may wear off as that process proceeds.

I’m reminded of a book I picked up, recently – Bernal Díaz’s The Conquest of New Spain, a first-person account of the conquest of Mexico and Montezuma by the Spaniards under Hernán Cortés, written in the late 16th century by a veteran of Cortes’ campaign. I was thinking as I thumbed through the book of how many descendants of the Spanish conquistadors and of their Aztec foes have probably intermarried by now, settled down, and raised children. This is the way of the world, after all.

So bravo to ABC for putting together such a timely, juicy and sophisticated series. Of course, they could just as easily blow it next week – I notice with some trepidation, for example, that there seems to be a ‘suicide bomber’ subplot in the next show – but for now I will bask in the warm glow of a great series, with a full season ahead.

After all, I never expected to enjoy this series as much as I already have.

Posted on January 6th, 2011 at 1:05m.


Post-Soviet Ukrainian Culture: Artists of Odessa

By Joe Bendel. Klara Budilovskaya was the Kilroy of immediate post-Communist Ukraine. Her name appeared on street corners everywhere, along with lists of the services she supposedly rendered—but only to foreigners. It was a peculiarly insecure way to express newfound freedoms. Such cultural history remains fresh in the consciousness of many Ukrainian painters, poets, and musicians who make up the city’s artist colony. Dmitryi Khavin takes viewers on a tour of their neighborhood in his documentary Artists of Odessa, which has its American premiere this Sunday at the JCC in Manhattan.

Khavin introduces us to the Ukrainian equivalent of the Village, the historic Moldavanka district, traditionally the home of the city’s working class. Now largely de-industrialized, it is exactly the type of neighborhood that attracts the artistic and the funky. Living communally in a building that reportedly once hosted Chekhov, an older artist analyzes the layers of graffiti art on his walls like the rings of a tree. He might have to move soon, which could either be good or bad. Indeed, ambiguity seems to be a way of life for Odessa’s artists.

Many artists still seem to be processing the fall of Communism and the aftermath of the Orange Revolution. According to a colleague, artist Leonid Voitsekhov saw his share of prison cells during the Brezhnevian 1980’s for the private exhibitions he held in his flat of his sexually themed paintings. Yet, we also see hipster second-hand store owners haggling with customers over Communist-era collectibles.

While it is always perilous to make sweeping generalizations about styles and periods of art, there does seem to be a pronounced tendency among the poets towards absurdist humor. There is also a significant current of irony running through the work of Odessa’s painters, but one can also see the influence of classic Russian icons amongst the work Khavin documents. Unfortunately the musicians heard in performance do not leave much of an impression, generally coming out of run-of-the-mill singer-songwriter or grunge-rock bags (no jazz, alas).

Though a relatively short doc at fifty-five minutes, Odessa provides quite a few telling moments and liberal portions of local color. Produced with the support of CEC Artslink, it will definitely give those fascinated by the former Soviet sphere of influence a good quick fix. It screens this Sunday (1/9) at the Upper Westside JCC, followed by a special Q&A session with Khavin.

Posted on January 6th, 2011 at 12:29pm.


Celebrity Extracurricular Activity

Steve Martin hawking his new book.

By David Ross. Writing in The New Republic, Andrew Butterfield guts Steve Martin’s new novel, An Object of Beauty (see here), a racy and putatively biting satire of the modern art scene in Manhattan.

A dealer and scholar of real standing (see here), Butterfield accuses Martin’s novel of lazy preening and cliché mongering. In these regards, the novel sounds very much like the Hollywood movie that it will eventually become. Martin has merely saved his film adapters the trouble of dumbing things down and turning to pap whatever had personality.

Butterfield delivers a good number number of vicious but presumably merited groin blows, of which this is characteristic:

The Object of Beauty masquerades as a social satire – a sort of Bonfire of the Vanities, updated to cover the recent bubble in contemporary art – but really the book is a just a drab soap opera about the doings of one superficially hot but deeply unappealing young woman. Martin is too lazy or too diffident to try to describe this universe freshly or in any detail. Instead he lazily relies on knowingness. He drops names of famous people and famous restaurants without bothering in the slightest to tell you anything precise or new or imaginative about them. They are merely brands; shorthands for chic. If you already know what Sant’Ambroeus looks like, or who Bill Acquavella and Larry Gagosian are, you do not need to read the book. If you do not know who they are, or why they might have a claim on your time and attention, Martin will not tell you anything that will enable you to picture them. He does not even tell you why you should find them humanly interesting. All he makes you feel is that your ignorance should arouse your envy – that you, poor thing, are less fortunate than he and the fancy people in his book. The reader of this novel is like a tourist banished to the outside of the velvet rope.

Jennifer Tilly at the poker table.

Nothing is more gratifying than to see Hollywood pretension pricked upon the pin of genuine expertise. Celebrities insist on putting on their wire-rim glasses and taking “courageous stands” and opining about art and literature and world affairs. Sometimes they even wind up on the Council on Foreign Relations, as did Angelina Jolie back in 2007. Apparently being a former self-mutilating, heroin-using goth-girl counts as a resume point.

None of this buttoned-up activity impresses me. This is yet more acting and not even good acting.

The only celebrity extracurricular activity that I have ever been able to respect is Jennifer Tilly’s poker career. It takes mettle to plunge into one of the few activities in which you cannot trade on your looks or fame, and in which there’s no possibility of taking cover in the fuzziness of subjective and decadent standards, and in which you’re likely to wind up tainted with the faint stench of the Red States. Jennifer Tilly at the poker table is  far more impressive than Angelina Jolie delivering “prepared remarks” at a lectern.

Wikipedia provides details:

On June 27, 2005, Tilly won a World Series of Poker bracelet (and $158,625) in the Ladies’ No-Limit Texas Hold ‘Em event, outlasting 600 other players. She followed up this accomplishment on September 1, 2005, by also winning the third World Poker Tour Ladies Invitational Tournament held at the Bicycle Casino in Los Angeles. Tilly has appeared in the GSN Poker Royale series. She appeared in the third season of Poker Superstars but was eliminated in the preliminary round. Tilly played in the Celebrity Poker Showdown which aired June 14, 2006, on Bravo. Tilly was knocked out in third place by Bravo’s online poker champion Ida Siconolfi (the first non-celebrity to appear on the show) when her A K failed to improve against Ida’s starting hand of K K. Tilly appears as a celebrity, rather than a poker pro, in ESPN’s Pro-Am Poker Equalizer. Tilly also appears in the World Series of Poker Tournament of Champions 2007 Edition video game (along with boyfriend, Phil Laak) that was released in 2007 by Activision.

In a television interview in 2005, Tilly stated that at that point in her career she was more interested in pursuing poker than acting. By December 2008, Tilly announced her retirement from poker as a career. In her monthly column in Bluff Magazine she said: “I love poker but greatness in poker is an elusive dream. There are too many variants. Trying to find validation in poker is like trying to find a virgin in a whorehouse. I’m not giving up poker entirely – gambling is an addiction after all. I’m just going to treat it more like a hobby and less like a career.” Since January 2010, Tilly appears to have resumed her poker career. As of 2010, Tilly’s live tournament wins exceed $660,000.

Posted on January 6th, 2011 at 10:28am.


Escaping The Soviet Gulag: Peter Weir’s The Way Back

By Joe Bendel. They endured harrowing extremes, including Siberian winters, blistering deserts, and utopian ideologies. In 1940, a Polish POW and six assorted political prisoners walked away from their gulag. Their ultimate destination was India. A harrowing tale of physical and spiritual survival adapted from Slavomir Rawicz’s novelistic memoir, Peter Weir’s The Way Back briefly opens an award qualifying engagement this week in Los Angeles, in advance of its regular January theatrical run.

Life in the Soviet gulag.

1940 was a bad year to be a Pole in Russia. It was also pretty miserable being a Russian in Russia, unless your name was Stalin. Janusz, a Polish Cavalry officer, was fighting the invading Nazis from the West. The Russians invading from the East branded him a spy (using his “contact” with the Germans as a staggeringly hypocritical pretense) and imprisoned him in a Siberian work camp. Here he meets a broad cross-section of Soviet society swept up in Stalin’s purges.

Janusz quickly befriends Khabarov, a Russian actor sentenced for his overly sympathetic portrayal of an aristocrat. He also comes to respect Mr. Smith, an American engineer lured to Russia during the Great Depression with promises of work, but he is instinctively distrustful of Valka, one of the “Urki” (a.k.a. “Thieves By Law”), the career criminals who run the camps at the barracks level. However, they let the thug to join their escape attempt because of the knife he brings to the party. Along the way they also reluctantly allow a girl to join their ranks: Irena, an orphan of the purges. Though Smith fears she will slow them down, she seems to be the only one able to draw the men out of their prison-hardened shells.

The plan was simple—head towards Lake Baikal with the only rags they had on their backs and then improvise from there. Of course, there were plenty of complications, like food and shelter. It is hard to imagine a more daunting landscape than the one they faced, including the Ghobi desert and the Himalayas – and this long trek was not the original idea. Yet, when they realized Mongolia had also succumbed to the ideology of Communism, they had no choice but to press on.

While Way works very well as a man against nature film, it also captures the realities of the Stalinist era quite forthrightly. For instance, we see the abandoned remnants of Buddhist monasteries razed by the Communists, which echoes the experiences of Voss, a Latvian Orthodox priest, whose soul was essentially destroyed along with his church.

In the Ghobi desert.

With its forbidding vistas and scorching sunlight, Way is a perfect vehicle for director Weir’s visual sensibilities. The audience really does feel like it is seeing remote corners of the globe never previously trodden by human feet. Yet the film also features some considerable performances. Although Jim Sturgess has appeared in some high profile screen projects in the past, none of his previous work has been of this caliber. It is hard to be the “good guy” among an ensemble cast, but he actually makes Janusz the most memorable of the escapees, effectively establishing the deeper motivations fueling his superhuman drive. Ed Harris is also well cast as Smith, nicely expressing his guilt, resentment, and fundamental decency. Really, nearly the entire cast becomes one with their characters, blending seamlessly into this epic story of average people – except for Colin Farrell, who stands out a bit awkwardly as Valka.

Way might be a story of rugged survival among the elements, but it is really part of a larger man-made tragedy. Weir nicely drives that point home with his evocative final payoff. A finely executed, emotionally engaging human drama absolutely worthy of award consideration, Way begins a highly limited LA run this week at the AMC Covina.

Posted on December 30th, 2010 at 11:06am.

Afghanistan’s Black Tulip Screens in Los Angeles for Oscar Consideration, 12/30-1/5

By Jason Apuzzo. Recently Libertas’ Joe Bendel wrote an important piece about Black Tulip (see the trailer above), Afghanistan’s official submission for the Best Foreign Language Film award at this year’s Oscars.

Still in the Oscar race.

Despite the recent controversy over whether the film qualifies for the Best Foreign Language Film category, I was happy to learn recently from Black Tulip co-producer Chris Cole that the film is indeed still in contention for that award (see here), and is also having a limited one-week theatrical release here in Los Angeles starting this Thursday, December 30th at the the Laemmle Sunset 5 (on the corner of Sunset and N. Crescent Heights). According to Chris, this limited theatrical run is intended to qualify the film for Best Score, Best Original Song (from Natalie Cole) and Best Cinematography consideration.

We want to encourage everyone in the Los Angeles area to turn out and give this film the buzz and support it needs heading into awards season. Imagine for a moment what it would mean to the people of Afghanistan to have a film in the running for an award on Oscar night – at a time when the Taliban and their allies are still trying to snuff out free speech in that country.

Screening times for the film in Los Angeles are as follows:

Laemmle Sunset 5

  • Thursday, December 30th at 7:30pm
  • Friday, December 31st through Wednesday, January 5th at 1:00pm

We want to congratulate director Sonia Nassery Cole and co-producer Chris Cole on their courage in overcoming extraordinary obstacles in getting this film made and out to the public. Their example is one that I wish more filmmakers here in America would follow, and we wish them every success with this important film.

Posted on December 29th, 2010 at 3:01pm.

Tati Magic: LFM Reviews The Illusionist

By Joe Bendel. He was France’s favorite uncle, “Monsieur Hulot.” Indeed, the gentle but ever so sly physical comedy of Jacques Tati enchanted audiences the world over in classic Hulot films, like Mon Oncle and Play Time. However, Tati would have taken on a new role as a father figure in a screenplay he completed yet chose not to realize on film. With the blessings of his estate, renowned animator Sylvain Chomet sensitively adapted Tati’s unproduced script as the pitch-perfect The Illusionist, which opened Christmas Day in New York and Los Angeles.

As the film begins, the perhaps once-great Tatischeff (Tati’s pre-showbiz name) schleps his mean-spirited rabbit and assorted magical gear to and from dilapidated theaters and middling private gigs. In a pleasant surprise, one of his best bookings turns out to be a small pub far up in the Scottish Highlands. The locals are all friendly in their strange Gaelic way and appreciate the show well enough. Alice, a shy young maid in his public house, is particularly fascinated by the Illusionist and his illusions. Something about her touches him, as well, inspiring an act of kindness on his part. So when she invites herself along with the Illusionist, he begins to act as a kind of surrogate father.

While there is a gentle wistfulness to most of Tati’s comedies, Illusionist reaches a poignancy of a far greater order. Time passes the Illusionist by, both professionally and personally, as the girl matures and his magic falls even further out of vogue. Yet, like a truly Chaplinesque figure, he indomitably carries on as best he can.

Simply seeing Tati come to life as the scuffling vaudeville magician Tatischeff is a joy. Chomet’s animated rendering is absolutely spot-on, capturing the look and mannerisms of the French cinematic mime to a tee. His Illusionist is a gentle soul, a clown more apt to make us cry than laugh.

From the rugged Scottish landscape to the vintage 1959 city settings of Paris and Edinburgh, Illusionist has a richly detailed, handcrafted look. It even sounds impeccable, sparingly employing dialogue that matches the disembodied resonance of Tati’s great comedies. Completing the elegant ambiance, Chomet’s own appropriately wistful themes nicely suit the on-screen drama, while evoking French Chanson chanteuses Josephine Baker and Hot Club Jazz.

Illusionist is one of fifteen films to qualify for Oscar consideration as best animated feature and “Chanson Illusionist” is one of forty-one tunes to eligible in the best song category. Frankly, in a just world it would win both awards in a walk. Tati’s Illlusionist, by way of Chomet, has far greater soul and humanity than anything cranked out by Disney or Pixar this year. It is so good it deserves easily quotable superlatives like: “wise and sad, but touching and beautiful.” Not just the best animated film of the year, The Illusionist is one of the best films overall, which fittingly opened Christmas Day in New York at the Landmark Sunshine and in Los Angeles at The Royal.

Posted on December 29th, 2010 at 2:13pm.