We also got the NBC pilot of “Kidnapped” from Netflix on the same DVD. It’s a season-long kidnapping investigation of the son of a rich New York couple.
This literally was unable to keep me awake, so maybe I missed the best parts of it during nodding off spells.
In a burst of self-confidence, NBC is releasing two of its pilots for the upcoming season on a single DVD, “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” and “Kidnapped.” This might suggest they think both are great, but they previously have released turkeys for free onto iTunes, so there’s no guarantee.
While I’m lukewarm on “Kidnapped” (more on that in a moment), “Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip” — one of two shows about Saturday Night Live this television season — is a winner.
(We rented the two shows on DVD from Netflix, although I’m told both are now floating around the Internet via BitTorrent and other mediums.)
I expected something much more reverential of SNL from an NBC show. Fortunately, Judd Hirsch’s meltdown before the opening credits even roll throws that out the window, attacking the fictional version of SNL, and television in general, for being too afraid of offending anyone and of putting commerce ahead of art (although acknowledging it’s always been a battle between the two).
The cast is good, with a lot of depth — there are recognizable solid actors who don’t have any lines in the pilot, but just appear in group shots — including an incredibly unpleasant Steven Weber, Amanda Peet playing a non-bimbo character (although her hot babeness is mentioned repeatedly by other characters), Tim(othy) Busfield, D.L. Hughley, Matthew Perry and Bradley Whitford.
A great cynical little show and one I definitely intend to TiVo this season.
It does what it says on the label: This is Dashiell Hammett-style LA noir — complete with period dialogue — set in a contemporary Southern California high school.
Gritty, violent, sometimes baffling, “Brick” works better than I think anyone could expect and better than it has any right to.
Unreservedly recommended to fans of film noir, detective stories and, yes, Veronica Mars.
At least two band members have a significant problem with how Lukas sings. He’ll be gone after Zayra.
Final three: Dilana, Magni, Storm
If the band doesn’t want a female lead singer (which, frankly, is the novelty they need in order not to become Velvet Revolver II), it’s Magni.
If they are open to a female lead singer, it depends on whether or not they care if she can write a song. (See above video clip.) If they do, it’s Storm.
If they are open to a female lead singer and feel they have enough songwriters as-is, it’s Dilana.
The basic concept and structure of “The Exorcism of Emily Rose” is sound — a murder trial for an exorcist, intercut with flashbacks letting the audience see the events first-hand — but they’re buried under a mess of a movie.
Strangely, this slapdash movie feels like the sort of original movie aired on Lifetime. If, you know, Lifetime aired stories about demonic possession.
In this case, the terrible dialogue, written by someone I can only assume has never actually spoken to an actual person before, almost totally distracts from the wooden acting. What sort of drugs were given to a cast that includes some fairly dependable actors to turn them into listless zombies, I can’t guess.
Absolutely skippable, especially if, like me, you think the premise and structure sound really intriguing. The reality of the final film just proves all the more frustrating, in that case.
