“Evicted” begins with an everyday objects-as-instruments melody reminiscent of Murray’s breakthrough song “Leggie Blonde” from season one. I am a total sucker for this kind of thing, so I was happy they ended the show in the same way. Jemaine playing the sheep is probably one of my favorite moments from the season:

This episode also featured a lot of Mel, whose creepy/cute fandom ALWAYS makes me laugh out loud. I wish there had been more Mel this season, but I think they knew what they were doing with this character – they always inserted her at just the right moments. She always left me wanting more! I’ve been meaning to check out more of her stuff after seeing some of her hilarious segments on The Daily Show. (“Misogyny is like jazz, women know it when they hear it“) AWESOME.

We also finally got a deeper look at Doug’s personality: his fancy harp skills and the scene where he is dancing to techno music with some prostitutes, wrapped in toilet paper, holding a bottle of whiskey (all taking place in an RV?) were both oddly appropriate.  Doug was another one of those characters who wasn’t used too often, but whoe timing was always impeccable. (Incidentally I walked past the actor who plays Doug the other day in Hell’s Kitchen, and could only remember him as Mel’s Husband and The Newspaper Editor From The Wire. I’ll blame the lapse on my starstruck-ness.)

Now I’ll probably give the second season another look, and I have a feeling it will only get better with repeat viewings. (Maybe I’ll take back what I said about the sophomore slump.) I’m sure we’ll see more of Bret and Jemaine…perhaps another Sub Pop release…?

Yesterday’s New York Times featured an article lauding the Academy’s conversion to auteur ascendancy. (“…Quality Emerges Triumphant) The article describes how the awards, originally launched in 1929 as a studio marketing tool, have recognized more smaller-budget movies in the past decade. (The article sites Crash‘s win in 2005 to illustrate the new-found emphasis on quality, so I have to take this time to point out what a heavy-handed, over-acted movie that was…) I do think that there has been a shift, but this is just a by-product of the overwhelming popularity of the “Indie” film in the past two decades. Whereas very few people were watching a John Cassavetes movie in the 70′s, *everyone* saw at least one Quentin Tarantino movie in the 90′s. The “Independent” label as it was once known can hardly be applied to many of the films being produced by big studio offshoots today. The Oscars have simply continued to reflect the tastes of the public.

So this year, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, The Reader, Slumdog Millionaire, and Milk are competing for best picture. I think Benjamin Button should automatically be out of the running because of that wretched hummingbird David Fincher found appropriate to pepper in at the most implausible times during the movie. That level of cheese is completely unacceptable. The movie displays mild success because the concept is such a good one and the effects are impressive, but many of the scenes were redundant, and the acting was nothing special, despite the two nominees it produced. Milk was very good, well-acted, and well-told, but certainly not Van Sant’s best. Frost/Nixon was surprisingly excellent – a very entertaining story about the interview that vindicated the nation. Frank Langella should win for best actor, no question about it. I confess I haven’t seen The Reader or Slumdog Millionaire, but I think I can wait for DVD with those two. (Incidentally, Kate Winslet’s nomination for her role in The Reader actually brings me great joy after re-watching her appearance on an episode of Extra’s)

Man on Wire was hands-down my favorite movie of the year, and I’m glad it received a nod in the best documentary category, but why the hesitation to count this among the BEST overall? It was very well-told, utterly inspiring and moving, featured an interesting cast of people, and one hell of a charismatic lead. Encounters at the End of the World was another brilliant film from Werner Herzog. This too could be placed in the best picture category – Herzog’s movies are not exactly documentaries in the strictest sense (which puts some people off), and are just as carefully crafted as any fictional epic, and this one is exceptionally beautiful to look at.

Richard Jenkins’ nomination for his role in The Visitor – a movie that tells a quiet, touching story while adeptly avoiding sentimentality – is well-deserved, perhaps not just as recognition of this role, but for his impressive body of work. (He was perhaps the most likable character on Six Feet Under). Brad Pitt certainly did an adequate job in Benjamin Button, but most of the work was done for him by the special effects/makeup. Overall it was nothing special, nor anything I thought about more than 15 minutes after the credits rolled.

Surely I will forget about the awards ceremony shortly after it’s over as well. I will forget the complaints I lodged this year, and will wait to be re-visited by Oscar-winners-past as they live up to the honor that the Academy has bestowed upon them:

If you’ve seen the movie or watched the Slate video, you noticed the primal screams/tribal-like calls that are dropped in throughout the movie during crucial heated moments in the election within Election. With touches like this, Payne quite successfully distills the motives, petty maneuverings, and unapologetic manipulation inherent in every democratic election, whether at the secondary school or presidential level. In addition to the Hillary-esque Tracy Flick character, Election gives us Paul Metzler, a role perfectly suited for Chris Klein’s meager acting capabilities, which prevent him from concealing his extreme effort at *pretending*. Paul is a cheerful, simple, idiot – which makes you love him like you would a dog – who is a less self-informed Bush/Palin hybrid. (One of his campaign slogans is “Paul Metzler – You Bet-zler!”) Paul only enters the race at the urging of teacher Jim McAllister (Matthew Broderick). Paul’s sister, Tammy also joins the race to get some revenge, and ultimately get expelled so that she can attend Immaculate Heart, which she believes will be teeming with other lesbians.

The election satire may be spot-on, but the movie provides an even more accurate satire of suburbia in general. In Payne’s hands, Tom Perotta’s book is fully realized and expertly altered to convey a truer microcosm of American life. Bringing the setting to Nebraska was crucial in giving this movie some real credibility in this vein. (The novel was set in New Jersey). The midwestern accents, the ranch house “country” decor, Jim McAllister’s hatchback, the Younkers department store…all of the details were accounted for and make this a rich, believable, detestable community. The sex scenes are grotesque in their boring realness, and Jim’s swollen eye is an unavoidable, disgusting stand-in for a prim scarlet ‘A’. The Midwest is real, it is (hideously) boring, but there is no hiding – you are all out in the open to be judged.

The director’s take on New York is a bit harder to pin down: Jim calls it a “refuge from troubled lives” but what is the value (and what is the cost) of his anonymity? New York offers culture, education, opportunities, but Jim’s optimism and enthusiastic pursuit of his “dreams” strikes me as false. His new life is equally pathetic: he lives in an overpriced studio apartment and he is a tour guide. I don’t think the message is simply ‘you can take the person out of the place, but you can’t take the place out of the person’, but to a certain extent we know that this is true.

Parker resembles George Costanza in more ways than one.

Below is a *framed* picture of the original pose, which is currently *SOLD OUT*!

George Costanza leaves an indelible impression on this couch

I’ve been watching Seinfeld since I was too young to understand the jokes, and the more I watch it (which is frequently), the more I realize that I will never tire of this timeless show. Despite the fact that I know all of the plots and the majority of the jokes going into each viewing, I still find myself laughing out loud regularly. Jerry’s bad acting even feels like a part of the act. The writing is excellent, and the jokes still stand up more than a decade later. George brings just enough of a cringe-factor to the show for the viewer to be able to *enjoy* his pathetic loserdom, but not enough to make the show devolve into that level of masochistic schadenfreude that characterizes so many of today’s popular shows – Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Office, etc – making them borderline unwatchable. (Despite the recent prevalence of shows cashing in on second-hand embarrassment phenomenon, my gold standard will always be The Wonder Years. That kid made me want to tear my own hair out. Come on! With Curb and the British version of The Office, the main characters are complete assholes, so at least you aren’t forced to identify with them as much.)

Seinfeld also overcomes the limitations of being a *network* television show. The show doesn’t rely on “funny” words such as “fuck” (though Larry David later proved that he had a knack for *making* these words funny, and not just for their own sake: Curb season 4 finale). Seinfeld’s form of absurdist comedy can be truly joyful (I’m picturing Kramer walking down the street in the technicolor dreamcoat), even if the main characters are usually involved in some form of degenerative behavior. Both the characters and the viewer are allowed to revel in their disgusting, apathetic, selfish behavior, and we don’t have to apologize for it.

With 9 seasons, there is also plenty of material to cycle through, keeping things at least mildly fresh. I personally favor seasons 3-9 however – the first two seasons the show was still trying to get its stride and usually followed a single plot trajectory. The multiple story-line approach that was later picked up made the characters richer, the jokes more unexpected and therefore timely, and also took the focus away from Jerry’s aforementioned bad acting.

Seinfeld’s wide syndication also means it’s almost always on…

Not that a new season promises much in the way of answers. In Mad Men, the ambiguity and unrevealed truths propel this drama forward, even more so than the action that takes place. The subtle, secret, psychological pathways of each character remind us of the grim truth that we are in many ways all alone in this world, and we can never be sure of what anyone else is thinking. (See Hitchcock: any film). But the omniscient camera keeps the viewer much more informed of the goings-on of this world than any of its players. Therein lies the secret to Mad Men’s success; the weight added to every interaction, every word exchanged, leading to the surprising success of profoundly understated generalities, such as when Don, speaking to Roger about the looming threat of nuclear attack, says “We don’t know what’s really going on, you know that.” (How right you are, Don!) We are left to wonder how these characters make decisions, given the discrepancy between their knowledge and ours, which adds the crucial element of surprise.

This season did include some marked shifts from the first season, namely the roles the women occupied, which were in stark contrast to the objectified roles of the first season. Peggy is a successful copywriter this season, landing big accounts, and even moves into an office alongside Don’s. In the superbly written scene between Peggy and Pete, we finally see the philandering, pompous Pete Campbell rendered utterly powerless. Long after their short-lived romance, Pete decides to tell Peggy that he loves her and wants to be with her. (Because, as Don reminds us earlier in the episode, “Pete, I know you want things when you want them.”) After his declaration, Peggy turns the tables on him, saying “I could have had you in my life forever, if I wanted to.” She tells him about the baby, and after a pause, explains why she decided to give up the baby, and him: “I wanted other things…One day you’re there, and then all of a sudden, there’s less of you.” She rejects him, and he asks, “Why would you tell me that?” He is not talking about the baby, he is talking about The Truth:

Betty also exercises some authority, however uncomfortable and unnatural it obviously feels to her. She kicks Don out, rejects the advances of a riding partner she clearly has feelings for, and in the final episode, has a tryst with a stranger in a men’s room. She comes home and satisfyingly eats a drumstick straight out of the refrigerator. No remorse. In the final scene, she decides not to tell Don about the encounter, after initially setting out to do just that, and determines to tell him that she is pregnant instead (“I…I’m pregnant”). We will have to wait to see what changes 1963 will bring to the Drapers, et al.