Wednesday, September 12, 2007 Rant Archive
If you want to reduce the core themes and concepts of DAMAGES to a one-liner, you need look no further than the advice chief legal piranha Patty Hewes (Glenn Close) gave her new associate Ellen Parsons (Rose Byrne) an episode or two ago: “Trust no one.” Ol’ Pappy Niccolo, he of the glory that was Florence in the time of the Borgias, would be tickled pink by Hewes’ intense grasp of realpolitik and the importance of acting decisively and surreptitiously.
But, even superhuman manipulators like Patty have weaknesses, things they try to keep hidden from the kryptonite of their enemies, and in Patty’s case, that weakness is her son Michael (Zachary Booth). As the episode opens, Ellen is relating her side of what happened in Patty’s apartment, where she was staying due to friction with her fiancé (not that kind, more’s the pity), while in flashback, Patty is trying to extricate her son from the boot camp she sent him to. However, he doesn’t want to go because, as he points out to her, getting away from her is good for him. Too bad Michael’s the only character to figure this out so far, other than the kind attorney (Philip Bosco) that tried to hire Ellen first.
Meanwhile, Gregory Malina (Peter Facinelli), who looks like he may be the star witness that Patty needs, is getting the full-court press from all sides. Patty’s subpoenaed him, Arthur Frobisher’s lead attorney Ray Fiske (Zeljko Ivanek) has got him in seclusion and may be hitting on him, and a certain mysterious bad-ass (Peter Riegert) keeps popping up, even around Fiske. On a side note, Riegert manages to look grandfatherly and evil at the same time; I’m not sure just how he does it, but he’s definitely making a play for scariest character on the show. Granted, he’s got a lot of competition, but he stands out in a crowded pack.
Sadly, it was inevitable. Religion has reared its head in EUREKA, and like much of popular entertainment that tackles the state of religion in the Western world, this week’s episode tries to have its cake and eat it too. How you feel about this depends on where you sit at the ecclesiastical table, of course, so I will try to be descriptive.
It’s a quiet Sunday in Eureka, and Sheriff Carter (Colin Ferguson) is enjoying a calm morning at the office, watching the game and noshing on pizza, safe from the prying eyes of daughter Zoë (Jordan Hinson) and the cholesterol-monitoring S.A.R.A.H., Carter’s house. Yes, he has an AI at home. It is that kind of show. Anyway, while Zoë and her friends are talking about taking a road trip (one suspects of the “girls gone wild” variety, although they don’t say it; it’s a fairly family-friendly show), they each suddenly lose the ability to talk. This seems like a blessing at first to Carter, but then Allison (Salli Richardson) has a fainting spell in her shower and wakes up glowing. When Carter goes to quiz a scientist he’s had a run-in with before, he finds the man in possession of an aquarium that, a few minutes after Carter arrives, sees the water turn into what appears to be blood.
Obesity is quite simply a hot topic. Cities are banning the use of trans fats in restaurants to combat our weight problem, politicians are considering lawsuits against fast food chains ala big tobacco and in the last month 29 magazine and 540 newspaper articles have been written on obesity.
The term “epidemic” is widely used to describe the state of our nation’s fatness.
Thank the Lord we have reality TV on the problem. I resisted THE BIGGEST LOSER for a long time. The name itself is just awful. I get that “losing” the weight is a good thing but the struggle with weight and self image is steeped so deeply in negativity, you would think that the producers could have found a better way to reward the winner than calling them, “The Biggest Loser!”
There’s a very good chance you didn’t see TWO WEEKS during its brief theatrical run. Hell, there’s probably a very good chance you never even heard of TWO WEEKS. It was doomed for commercial failure from the outset, a stupid idea for a movie: Let’s watch a woman die. Not surprising to anyone except the folks who pumped money into it, TWO WEEKS earned a paltry $46,600 during its entire release a few months ago, probably less than the cost of developing the negatives.
Yet it is one of the most remarkable movies of the year –one that is unwavering in its honesty and unsparing in its depiction of a terrible, terrible subject. It is brilliantly acted by a gifted ensemble. And it comes exceedingly close to being a superb film.
Anita Bergman (Sally Field) is diagnosed with colon cancer. When she asks her oncologist what will happen to her he tells her “my intestines will clog up and I will puke myself to death.” So she fired him. “I figured at $275 a visit I deserve a better bedside manner.” So she cans him.
Clearly Anita is not going quietly into the night. She’s a tough broad who reminded me of the cowboys I used to watch on TV when I was younger. I’m sure you know the ones I mean. The kind that required only a shot a whiskey before they let the town barber dig a bullet out of their shoulders. She has four children, three boys and a girl, is divorced and remarried and though its never clear, is probably in her late 50s or early 60s.