Southern Bookman

"Stumptown" scores a hit for network TV

Productions on Netflix, Amazon, Disney and other outposts of the crowded streaming world receive the bulk of awards and critical acclaim.

Echoing the sector's label, streaming channels are now the mainstream, and traditional TV networks the wilderness, outside of sports and reality TV.

But I offer praise for a new show on an old-fashioned TV network: ABC's "Stumptown." Like "The Sopranos" and "Breaking Bad," "Stumptown" appeals with off-beat characters, a mix of comedy and drama, and lurid sex and violence.

Starring Cobie Smulders as the conflicted detective Dex Parios, the show based in Portland, Ore., recalls HBO and AMC hits with its noirish atmosphere. "Stumptown's" flawed characters are likable and compelling.

Adapted by show runner Jason Richman from a comic book series created by Greg Rucka, Matthew Southworth and Justin Greenwood, "Stumptown" shows a raw, gritty Portland reminiscent of Seattle in AMC's series "The Killing." Rather than the laid-back city satirized by "Portlandia," "Stumptown" presents a town of dark criminality and corruption. 

The show's depiction of insular neighborhoods includes an Indian community that runs a casino and upholds its tribal independence. Dex's long connection with the Indian community drives the show's central conflict.

A former Marine suffering from PSTD, Dex is an alcoholic bisexual who swings from self-destructiveness to professional commitment. She drives a beat-up car and uses a broken cellphone. Her intuition, diligent detective work and fighting skill overcome her refusal to follow professional norms.

With her crooked grin, comic skill and unconventional beauty, Smulders raises Dex's appeal. Smulders' physical grace and insouciant air give the character a calmness in tense situations that contrasts with her personal confusions. Dex's mix of professional confidence and vulnerability draws sympathy.

Dex's often exasperated circle of friends and lovers includes Jake Johnson as the ex-con Grey McConnell, owner of the Bad Alibi Bar, and Michael Ealy as the tormented Portland police detective Miles Hoffman. Cole Sibus gives an endearing performance as Ansel Parios, Dex's brother, who strives to overcome Down's Syndrome.

"Stumptown" proves that quality TV lives outside the streaming world.

 

The world keeps growing hotter

The recently passed decade of 2010-2019 was the warmest on record, according to NASA and the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

Our world can't grow much hotter, but temperatures keep rising as the world does nothing but make promises and sign treaties.

At least those whose money runs the world are taking notice. Blackrock's Larry Fink, not to be confused with Larry Fine, announced this week that the firm will consider climate change in making investment decisions.

Children's faces break my heart. If climate change action isn't taken very soon, they will know an increasingly uninhabitable world.

Those born in the late 20th century have enjoyed unlimited travel, technological wonders, extravagant entertainment. The price has been dear: soaring carbon emissions, a bill our grandchildren will pay.

Atmospheric carbon has reached 417 parts per million, the NOAA and NASA reports found. Only a couple of years ago, the dire 400 threshold was crossed. Climate change activists say 350 parts per million is the limit for humanity to escape catastrophe.

Watching the college football championship the other night, I was amazed at the heavy traffic rushing by when streets outside the Superdome were shown. Nothing stops the steady flow of cars, spewing carbon into the atmosphere.

The world kept getting hotter in the 1960s, the 1970s, the 1980s, the 1990s, the 2000s. The few warning voices were ignored. The world as we know it is now passing away.

 

 

 

Alan Bennett in annual diary remembers Jonathan Miller

Noted British playwright Alan Bennett in his latest diary in the London Review of Books pays homage to fellow "Beyond the Fringe" member Jonathan Miller.

For years, Bennett has brightened the new year with his annual chronicle of the previous 12 months, published in the LRB. Bennett's record of his life in 2019 runs in the LRB's Jan. 2 issue.

The polymath Miller, who died Nov. 27, excelled in medicine, the theater and television. He was especially known for his opera productions, and hosting the TV documentary "The Body in Question."

Rising from their college days at Oxford and Cambridge, Miller and Bennett joined Dudley Moore and Peter Cook in the satirical revue "Beyond the Fringe," which eventually played on Broadway.

Along with serene depictions of the London literary world and unhurried life in suburban Yorkshire, Bennett can be cutting in his views. An entry in his 2019 diary gives a chilly assessment of Miller.

"Ours was a not unrivalrous relationship, with neither particularly generous about the other's work," Bennett says. He confesses to never seeing one of Miller's operas, and suspects Miller never watched one of his plays.

Bennett ends on a warmer, regretful note. "Now that he's gone I feel remorse as well as sorrow. But, jokes apart, it was a question of survival. I needed to write. Jonathan needed one to listen."

The diaries increasingly chronicle Bennett's aging. This year's entries often reference Bennett lying on his couch or in bed, suffering from severe arthritis. He also gives an alarming account of a fall on his bicycle, from which he suffered bruises but no broken bones or head injuries.

A disturbing sign of Bennett's looming mortality is that the diary is much shorter this year; he missed several months during the spring and summer because of open-heart surgery.

With all of his suffering, the diary is again a treat of refined thinking, with references to obscure films, actors and British writers. The diaries reflect his cultured life in suburban Yorkshire, where he enjoys gardening, old houses and reading. Bennett's at times fussy writing reveals a disgust with conservative politics, an enjoyment of small town life and an appreciation for small pleasures.

His diaries mirror my own aging, giving me encouragement and comfort. I hope to read Bennett's annual missives for years to come.

Farewell, Buck Henry and Edd Byrnes

Buck Henry and Edd Byrnes enjoyed fame from different sides of the media spectrum.

Baby-boomer heroes born in the early 1930s, they both died Wednesday, Henry at age 89 of a heart attack in Los Angeles, and Byrnes in Santa Monica at age 87 from natural causes.

Playing parking lot attendant "Kookie" Kookson, Brynes parlayed a minor role in "77 Sunset Strip" into stardom. With the simple gesture of combing his hair, Byrnes stirred an intense following among young women, who deluged Warner Brothers with letters to him. The Kookie frenzie foreshadowed Beatlemania. Byrnes even had a hit record with Connie Stevens, "Kookie, Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb."

An artifact of the Camelot era, "77 Sunset Strip" brought one of the first stirrings of the 1960s youth culture. But the ultra-cool detective series starring Efrem Zimbalist Jr. and Roger Smith, later Ann Margret's husband, appealed to the World War II generation as well as its over-indulged children. Like other hits in the era of three television networks, the Friday-night show attracted a broad audience. In today's fractured entertainment landscape, that kind of mass appeal is long gone.

Byrnes found the pressure of fame difficult to bear, falling into an alcoholic slump when he left the show for a time due to a contract dispute with the ABC network. He returned as a full detective. When the show's popularity waned, Byrnes struggled to escape the Kookie personna, although he landed TV guest appearances and a prime role in the film "Grease."

At the other end of the 1960s, the country disillusioned by the Vietnam War and a wave of assassinations, Henry wrote the screenplay for "The Graduate," Mike Nichols' clever but in retrospect not so revolutionary comedy of alienated youth. Earlier, Henry developed with Mel Brooks the TV hit "Get Smart," a sendup of the suave James Bond personna. Starring Don Adams as the bumbling spy Maxwell Smart, the Saturday-night show also satirized the cool detectives of "77 Sunset Strip" and similar productions.

Henry was among the generation of Hollywood screenwriters who received critical acclaim like that of novelists and playwrights. A luminary among auteurs such as Robert Towne, John Milius, Terry Southern, John Cassavetes and Francis Ford Coppola, Henry was lauded as a literary genius, although he adapted others' work.

With hits like "What's Up Doc" and "Heaven Can Wait," Henry also wrote the screenplay for a major disappointment, Nichols' production of "Catch 22," Joseph Heller's baby-boomer icon.

Both born in New York City, Henry and Byrnes grew up in opposite ends of the economic scale. Henry's father was part of Ernest Hemingway and Humphrey Bogart's social circle, and he attended the snooty Dalton School and Dartmouth. In contrast, Byrnes grew up in then gritty Yorkville, and  worked as a male prostitute before heading to California.

They both touched the imagination of the 1960s generation; "The Graduate's" Benjamin Braddock might have been "Kookie's" more sedate brother. The few years separating the two characters represented a loss of innocence in American culture.

 

Renee Zellweger shines as the drug-ravaged Judy Garland

Following "The Joker," I continued my binge-watching of Golden Globe-winning acting performances with Renee Zellweger's portrayal of the drug-ravaged Judy Garland in her last performances.

The film "Judy" chronicles Garland's chaotic run at London's Talk of the Town nightclub in early 1969, just months before her death at age 46 from a barbiturates overdose. Initially a triumph, Garland crashed by showing up late to shows and trying to perform while intoxicated. Directed by Rupert Goold and adapted from Peter Quilter's play "The End of the Rainbow," the film, while sentimental and predictable, rises above bio-optic cliches.

Zellweger brilliantly captures Garland's hunger for love and applause, her alternating desire to shun the public spotlight and stand at the center of adulation. Drawing upon her Katy, Texas upbringing, Zellweger shows that Garland remained a small-town girl bewildered by the glare of fame. With all of her show-biz pretensions, Garland kept her down-to-earth personality, engagingly illustrated in the film by her visit to the home of two unknown gay admirers.

Performing famous Garland songs, Zellweger achieves Garland's swings from brilliance to pathos. While Zellweger lacks Garland's range, she hits a few of Garland's high notes, indicating the damage to Garland's voice from years of overwork, sleep deprivation, career reverses and drug and alcohol addiction.

From Zellweger's turn as the ill, emaciated Garland, the film flashes back to when Garland was a young teen cast in MGM's "The Wizard of Oz." Played by Richard Cordery, MGM's Louis B. Mayer manipulates Garland with body-shaming, bullying and calculated displays of affection. Mayer and his odious associates also start Garland on the yellow brick road of addiction, forcing her to take amphetamines to keep her weight down and work grueling hours. Watching Mayer's mind games, I wanted Joaquin Phoenix's Joker to show up and teach him a few lessons.

Darci Shaw gives an earnest, but ultimately unconvincing, performance as the young Garland, who's forbidden by Mayer's stooges to eat a hamburger and french fries on a date with Mickey Rooney, believably portrayed by Gus Barry. MGM concocted a romance between Garland and Rooney, who starred in several "Hey, let's put on a show" films. Instead of the burger, Garland is given uppers. To sleep, she is forced to take downers.

I'm sure books have been written about the making of "Wizard of Oz," but I wondered whether Garland's co-stars Ray Bolger as the Tin Man, Bert Lahr as the Cowardly Lion and Jack Haley as the Tin Man tried to protect Garland. It's likely they were all in thrall to Mayer's studio system.

Jessie Buckley gives a star-making performance as Rosalyn Wilder, the personal assistant who tries to keep Garland sober enough to do her London shows. Royce Pierreson is appealing as Burt Rhodes, leader of the band that tries to keep up with Garland's haphazard song selections.

Watching Garland's sad demise, I remembered the heart-rending clip of the adolescent Garland singing "You Made Me Love You" while writing a fan letter to Clark Gable. Garland was so young and beautiful. She made the world love her, but that was never enough.

"The Joker" gives disturbing vision

Joaquin Phoenix's relentless portrayal of the Joker cannibalizes its artistic value.

The sympathy for Arthur Fleck generated at the start of the movie, in which Phoenix resembles the old TV comic Sid Caesar, is burned away by Fleck's transformation into the psychopathic murderer. Director and co-writer Todd Phillips and Phoenix lose artistic distance in the character's absence of humanity.

Phoenix's mesmerizing graceful movements give a counterpoint to Fleck's derangement. Yet any sense of beauty is obliterated.

Strangely resembling another TV personality, Merv Griffin, Robert De Niro plays a TV talk show host, Fleck's alter-ego. De Niro's turn as a mainstream TV comedian also lacks uplifting power. The audience feels it's watching De Niro play a role, rather than changing into the character.

The movie gives the back story of how the Joker became Batman's nemesis in the DC Comics. Bruce Wayne, who turned into Batman, is shown as a child who witnesses his parents' murders during a riot touched off by the Joker's killing of De Niro's character on live TV. The movie's Gotham City copies the dystopian New York City of the 1960s, although the Batman comics began in the 1930s. 

"The Joker's" overheated performances clash into a jarring cinematic experience. A daring and original film, "The Joker" gives a disturbing vision of humanity lacking aesthetic empathy.

 

Another Golden Globes brings tacky Hollywood glitz

Everyone loves Greta Gerwig's "Little Women," from critics to casual movie goers.

But the film was barely mentioned at Sunday night's Golden Globes, outside of a best actress nomination for Saoirse Ronan.

The disconnect between the Hollywood Foreign Press Association and popular taste extended to someone named Ramy Ousssef winning the best actor award for a TV comedy or musical for his Hulu show "Ramy." Ousseff joked "I know you haven't seen my show," about a Muslim family in New Jersey adjusting to American culture.

While the Golden Globes is shown on NBC, the old broadcast networks are no longer acknowledged, although their shows bring in millions more viewers than critical darlings like "Fleabag." Shouldn't an innovative show like ABC's "Stumptown" receive a little love?

As Robert De Niro, Martin Scorsese and Al Pacino glowered at a stageside table like aging Mafia dons, their picture of the year favorite "The Irishman" was shut out by Sam Mendes' World War I tale "1917." Mendes, who also beat out Scorsese for the best director award, acknowledged "1917's" low popular appeal, beseeching film goers to head to the theater to watch the movie on the big screen. 

That was a gibe at Netflix, which quickly yanked "The Irishman" and "Marriage Story" from theater runs and threw them into the Netflix stream. The expected dominance of Netflix, alluded to by the loathsome Ricky Gervais in his opening monologue, dissipated. Along with "The Irishman's" shutout, "Marriage Story" was ignored, except for Laura Dern winning a supporting actress globe for her performance as a ruthless divorce attorney.

"Marriage Story" director and writer Noah Baumbach looked forlorn as his companion, Gerwig, comforted him. At least he was nominated; Gerwig along with other women directors, was ignored, as Gervais noted in another misfiring joke.

Dern was awarded for her work as a distasteful divorce attorney, but received no recognition for her "Little Women" portrayal of Marmee March, one of American literature's enduring characters.

As if apologizing for the press association's slights, speakers from weepy Tom Hanks to Mendes to best supporting actor winner Brad Pitt paid homage to Scorsese, De Niro and Pacino.

Hanks was given the Cecil B. DeMille Award, and nominated for his portrayal of Fred Rogers in "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood." But why was the nomination for Best Supporting Actor?

The Golden Globes is a blurry pageant of arbitrary categories and an unintelligible array of TV and movie awards. It's a post-holiday drunken party for Hollywood stars and tacky glamour on display.

It's entertaining. But when the more than three hour show tumbles to an end, it feels like a waste of time..

 

 

Sarah Greene salvages flawed TV production of Tana French mysteries

"The Dublin Murders" unfolds like a bad dream.

Haphazardly splicing together Tana French's novels "In the Woods" and "The Likeness," the Starz-BBC production sputters in trying to develop contrasting storylines. Like the first season of HBO's "True Detective," the show offers moody atmospherics, supernatural elements and memory-tormented characters. Here, the spooky setting of dark woods and spirits is Ireland rather than Louisiana.

Sarah Phelps, known for her Agatha Christie adaptations, wrote the flawed script. French wasn't involved in the production, and likely was shocked at Phelps' labored stratagems to stitch together disparate stories. With an overflow of elements, neither mystery builds suspense until the final episodes, which at last gain narrative momentum.

Rising above the show's disparities, Sarah Greene gives a beguiling performance as homicide detective Cassie Maddox. With her dark eyes, fearless spirit and smoky sensuality, Greene places Cassie among memorable female TV detectives. Portraying two characters when Cassie goes undercover in one of the storylines, Greene displays impressive versatility.

Killian Scott as Cassie's tormented partner Rob Reilly, Rob Ryan in the novel, also finds the character's depths. As the fragmented plot progresses, Reilly  grows increasingly unpleasant. A sympathetic character at the beginning, in the end he turns into a violent, obsessed anti-hero. Scott's convincing performance makes Reilly's personality changes believable.

Conleth Hill, last seen as the eunuch Lord Varys in "Game of Thrones," steals scenes as the foul-mouthed, pressured police superintendent O'Kelly. Hill leads a good cast bogged down by the script.

Greene's portrayal of Cassie raises the show's dramatic heat, but French's novels give a far better entry into the author's world.

"God Bless Us, Every One": Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" published 176 years ago.

It's hard to imagine a world that had never heard of Ebenezer Scrooge, Tiny Tim and the ghosts of Christmas Past, Christmas Present and Christmas Yet to Come.

Those cultural icons first appeared on Dec. 19, 1843, when Charles Dickens published "A Christmas Carol in Prose: Being a Ghost Story of Christmas."

As Garrison Keillor noted in Thursday's Writers Almanac, the debt-burdened Dickens feverishly turned out the novella after his novel "Martin Chuzzlewit" sold poorly. The plot and characters inflamed his imagination on long walks through London.

Dickens paid for the publication himself when his publisher, Chapman & Hall, refused to take the financial risk. Illustrated by Punch magazine artist John Leech, "A Christmas Carol" was an instant hit, but Dickens fell short of his expected profits because of the high costs of his extravagant full-color design.

"A Christmas Carol" propelled a Christmas revival in London. As Britain urbanized, celebrating the holiday was seen as frivolous and wasteful. The book's popularity validated family gatherings, generosity to others and making merry.

The book launched countless stage, film and TV productions, including an excellent cartoon version with Mr. Magoo as Scrooge. The book was repeatedly retold through the years in Christmas classics like "It's a Wonderful Life."

After 176 years, poverty, greed and inhumanity remain as intractable as in Dickens' time. Economic disparity worsens. An unrepentant Scrooge agenda rules the GOP and Trump administration. Yet Dickens' ghost story offers the hope of mercy and redemption.

At age 31,  Dickens gave the world an enduring Christmas gift.

Remembering John Lennon

The 39th anniversary of John Lennon's murder passed without much fanfare.

On the night of Dec. 8, 1980, Lennon was returning with his wife, Yoko Ono, to their home at the Dakota Apartments in New York City when Lennon was shot four times in the back by Mark David Chapman. The seriously wounded musician was rushed to Roosevelt Hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival. The news was first broadcast to a shocked nation by Howard Cosell during a Monday night football game between the Patriots and the Dolphins.

Mark Strong, my friend and colleague at the Columbus Ledger-Enquirer, and I put out a newspaper special section honoring the former co-leader of the Beatles who stirred controversy with his and Yoko's political activism supporting world peace. Ledger-Enquirer advertising and circulation execs objected to us giving such attention to Lennon in a conservative small Southern city, but our executive editor, the legendary Glenn Vaughn, never uttered a word. If I recall correctly, the special section was a big seller.

Looking back, I'm amazed at how much Lennon meant to me and others of our generation. My late friend Loftin and I loved Lennon intensely. We liked Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr, but we saw Lennon, along with Bob Dylan, as the true voices of our generation.

We waited breathlessly for each new Beatles album to arrive from England, always at this time of year. After the band's earth-shaking early pop hits, mainly co-written by Lennon and McCartney, the two began diverging into writing separate songs on ever more ambitious albums like "Rubber Soul," "Revolver" and "Sgt. Pepper." Their partnership still shone with brilliance on collaborations like "A Day in the Life," which memorably ended "Sgt. Pepper." Lennon's work turned edgier and more mystical, while McCartney remained more pop-oriented.

While many Beatles fans opposed Lennon's marriage to Yoko, we enjoyed her collaborations with him. We remained enthralled by Lennon's solo career after he broke with the Beatles. Lennon's political activism was a big influence on our worldview. He joined Joe Namath and Muhammad Ali as my main anti-establishment heroes.

A lot of Lennon's antics look silly now. But I will always keep a flame burning for him in my heart. When I hear songs like "Norwegian Wood," "I'm So Tired," "Come Together,"  and "Imagine," I'm transported to my youth.