chatless46

There are a few surprises in this series. None are really startling, but they make you understand more why you like this band in the first place. If you don't, hear them more. The Grateful Dead have all the goods: Joy, bravery, humanity, and musicianship. They're not without fault - see "humanity".

This an excellent series for fans and, I hope, soon-to-be-fans. Advice: don't skip the credits. Their soundtracks are worth it.

George Lopez as a stand-up comic has made me laugh harder than any other, ever. Mucus-expelling, gasping for breath stuff. His family sitcom "George Lopez" (2002-2007) was hilarious, terrifically written, had a great cast, and was largely ignored by Emmy.

Now we have "Lopez", a far superior and more snot-inducing successor, with no laugh track provided or needed. George is now looking for "relevance" as an older entertainer and Vegas escapee in a world of Los Angeles Twits. He's surrounded in his rented mansion by a new family of fringe-dwelling friends and ex-cons (led by Manolo, beautifully played by Anthony 'Citric' Campos), a creepy landlord, and George's manager, an earnest, WASPish woman-child (Hayley Huntley).

Quote of the series so far: "...there's no sliding scale of racism..."

Watch and repeat.

A latecomer to this recently-ended series, my binge-watch has led me to the middle of the 3rd season. Goodness gracious. The writing alternately firmly pokes our heads up various orifices, then pulls them back out for sweet air. I watched seasons 1 and 2 with a vicarious thrill, but season 3 hit a mark I didn't know existed. Holy heartbreaking, flesh-quaking, drool-making participles.

I fear the remainder can't sustain this level, but I'll keep watching. From what I've seen, this series rivals M*A*S*H, Seinfeld, and Curb Your Enthusiasm for acerbity and sheer delight. Concerning content, it does help that I'm a heterosexual male. And, David Duchovny sticks it as the lead. How can he miss with lines like, oh, all of them?

Most epic and least comfortable moment so far: Hank's daughter's asking "Do you know what it's like to have nothing and no one?" and his tepid shrug-off thereof. C'mon, Hank. You have a few more seasons to redeem yourself. But have fun doing it, for all our sakes.

"Rectify" is a compelling drama. I'm about to wear out the pause and rewind buttons on my remote, because the writing is so terrific, and bears repeating. Mainly, the lines delivered by central character Daniel Holden are priceless. Otherwise it's very hard to put into words what is so wonderful about this series. It drops my jaw kind of like "Breaking Bad" did - but in a deeper way. Holden's whispered, measured, revelatory comments alternately provoke out-loud laughter and quiet reflection (again, pause and/or rewind). The story is scary and electrifying, and the entire cast is stunning. What a show. Emmy, you've gotta be listening. World, do not miss this thing. Watch and be glad.

I've watched this series from the beginning. Meaning Carl Sagan. And I've gotta tell you, Dr. Sagan's protégé, the justifiably lauded Neil deGrasse Tyson, sublimely captures the spirit of the original. He's a pleasure to watch and listen to, as he guides us viewers through the cosmos with his lovely tones and masterful grasp of science - a lot like Carl.

I just watched last Sunday night's concluding season one episode, and Neil and his team pulled out all the stops. Thrilling, exhilarating, jaw-dropping stuff. And it made me cry. That's a tough bar for a science program. What caused the waterworks for me was the replay near the end, of Carl's editorial on the existence of the Earth, what it means to us, and the role it plays in the cosmos - which, let's face it, is relatively insignificant.

As Dr. Tyson imparts, what IS significant, for us, is how we perceive the universe - that's pretty much the point of the show. The final episode's discussion of dark matter, supernovas, and Earth's billion-year missive to the galaxy in the form of a seriously long-playing album - dispatched by President Jimmy Carter - was splendid.

But let's return to Neil. Dr. Tyson's scientific expertise and allure as a performer are unparalleled. He has equaled and, I think, bested those qualities of his his mentor. Dr. Sagan would be very proud of that.

I'm ready for Season Two.

My wife bailed out about 20 minutes in. I guess this is a man's movie. I'd never heard of it until I discovered it online. Whether "straight to video" or not, Mel didn't let me down. "Get The Gringo" took me back to "Mad Max" and improved on it, though in terms of violence, the latter is an episode of Leave It to Beaver by comparison.

Billed as "The Driver", Gibson barrels through a role starting as a clown-suited thief, continuing as a prisoner in Mexico, a Clint Eastwood impersonator, a high-powered executive, an ambulance attendant, and...spoiler alert warns me this is a good place to stop.

Stop, and say - Mexican prisons are nowhere to live, from what I can tell from my reading and from this film. None of those accounts invite one's stay. Life in a prison cell in the US, horrific enough, seems like a stay in La Quinta compared with the free-for-all shown here. Exaggerated as the depiction may be, I'm betting it's not too far from the truth.

Kevin Hernandez as "The Kid" is perfect, and his mother, played by Dolores Heredia, is a terrific ball of grit, vulnerability, and humor. Gibson is clearly enjoying his moments with these actors.

It appears this movie wasn't nominated for any awards. It is only because there is no category for "Most Offensive, Dramatic, Funny, and Entertaining". The Academy tends to pass on these kinds of pictures.

On its face, this is a ripping yarn about survival at sea, based on a novel by Canadian Yann Martel. The book version is astonishing, and the film version is literally jaw-dropping both because of its visual effects and because of its faithfulness to the source material.

The novel blurs the line between "fact" and fiction, beginning with the author's note describing his pursuit of a good story, a pursuit that lands him in Pondicherry, India. There he hears of a tale that, he is told, is God-affirming. The protagonist and narrator of the story, a native Pondicherrian by the name of Piscine Molitor Patel, now lives in Martel's homeland. Martel returns to find him in Toronto. This is where the film begins, and pretty much continues in lockstep with the book.

The story supposedly told to Martel by Pi Patel unfolds intriguingly from his childhood in India to his voyage at sea with his family, through tragedy and finally, to salvation. The story is infused with humor, horror, beauty, and seamanship, all aided by stunningly vivid images. At the end, the viewer and the author face a choice that may affirm theism in some, and yet allow nonbelievers to reject it.

What is hard to reject is the unutterable beauty and flash of the story, and the skillful way director Ang Lee has captured it on film. Convincing performances by Suraj Sharma as the teenage Pi and Irrfan Khan as the adult Pi are stellar. No less convincing is the rendition of leading feline Richard Parker, a creation that may make you wonder where digital technology is leading us.

Most movies, and fiction in general, require suspension of disbelief. In that sense, "Life of Pi" can be a challenge. That said, this film breaks new ground as terrific entertainment.

This is a comedic masterpiece, in the sense that I was coughing up phlegm throughout the film. The Village Voice called this the "funniest movie ever made about trying to hold on to one's artistic integrity in an image-obsessed world." That's one way to put it, but the writer should have added "...oh, and I was laughing so hard I crapped my pants".

Henry Phillips is a great guitar picker and writes and sings like Roy Zimmerman, Bob Dylan, and Redd Foxx all rolled into one. OK, Loudon Wainwright too. The film depicts his plod through making a living as a...satiric folk singer-songwriter? That's exactly what he is, but the term has too many syllables for promoters and record company execs. Awkward encounters abound, some briefly tense, most hysterically funny. Ten stars.

I had no intention of going to the movies last night, being in a very dark emotional state and wanting to sulk. But my wife dragged me to the theater and we wound up seeing "Horrible Bosses." It's expertly cast with Jasons Bateman and Sudeikis, Charlie Day, Kevin Spacey, Jennifer Aniston, and a barely recognizable Colin Farrell.

I have not laughed so hard at a movie in years. Some great comedies have paid more attention to theme, story arc, character development - all that stuff - but if you want sheer brutal comedic force, line for line, you've got to see this. At one point I was laughing so hard I couldn't catch my breath, a la Tom Hanks in the bathtub scene in "The Money Pit".

It's rare I would pay to see the same movie again, but I want to see this one again soon to catch the lines I missed - there were many - because the laughter in the packed theater drowned them out.

I have never been a huge Moore fan, but this one is a must-see. I laughed at Moore's stunts, cried for the people losing their homes to foreclosure, gritted my teeth in anger at the unregulated bankers who took profit from grief, and I sat through the credits.

If you must pay nine bucks to support the capitalist entertainment industry, put it where it will do some good - in the pockets of Moore, who can be trusted to do the right thing with his share of proceeds. He brings to the screen the plight of us consumption-driven, unsavvy middle-class plebeians in a way that the rest of the media can't, or won't.

In this hugely entertaining film, Moore distinguishes capitalism from democracy. He argues that citizens should have the right to vote, produce, profit and prosper, but not to engulf and devour (my words, with apologies to Mel Brooks) their customers. Citing and hopefully reviving FDR's unrealized Second Bill of Rights, Moore seeks to empower those of us without the education or resources to fend off the one per cent who run the country, scam us, and bleed us dry.

Worth the price of admission alone is the scene where Moore stretches a yellow "crime scene" banner around the headquarters of Wall Street financial institutions.