In fact, we just binge-watched the latest season of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on Prime. I've thoroughly enjoyed this funny, stylish series about an aspiring female comic in Mad Men-era (and slightly earlier) New York. Rachel Brosnahan, as the title character, is simply wonderful and I'm sad that next season is scheduled to be the series' last. It was bad enough that the show was on hiatus through much of the COVID pandemic but the knowledge that we have only one more season with Mrs. Maisel and her oddball friends and family has left me feeling uncharacteristically verklempt.
Also in its final throes is Netflix's long-running Grace and Frankie, a show that, despite my adoration of its leading ladies, has become stale and unfunny in recent seasons. I have always admired the way that the show addresses the needs and concerns of wealthy old white women--come on, you know I'm right!--given the obvious reluctance of TV producers to feature actors of a certain age in any starring roles. Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin (and the rest of the cast) can be extremely amusing when given good material to work with but it doesn't seem like Grace and Frankie's writers have been up to the task for awhile. Oh hell, let's face it, from the first season, the show has been spirited and likeable but notably lacking in hilarity. Still, I'll watch these final episodes to see the excellent cast working together one last time.
Last night's viewing was The Mystery of Marilyn Monroe: The Unheard Tapes on Netflix. It was interesting in a Dateline - 20/20 sort of way. Scenes are staged with actors playing the late star's intimates, and lip-synching to interviews from actual tape recordings. It's a cool concept, I'll admit, but I'm not sure how well it actually works. For someone of my generation (or older) or a fan of Hollywood history, the subject alone will probably prove to be an irresistible lure, although the sudden switches between tapes and narrators gets confusing towards the end. Irish author and investigative reporter Anthony Summers deserves to be commended for his incredible research and the materials he compiled over decades, although, perhaps unavoidably, the conspiracy revelations lend to the film's already-sensationalistic nature. Note: I was somehow surprised--though shouldn't have been--that legendary Hollywood dirt-disher/career-destroyer Fred Otash was involved in Monroe's messy end. (For a fictionalized-but-not-sanitized version of Freddy Otash's other activities, read James Ellroy's excellent Widespread Panic).
The soapy Spanish series, Elite (also on Netflix), is admirably LGBT+ inclusive and (allegedly) doesn't skimp on nudity. So far, I've made it through the fourth episode and I'm not sure it's going to hold my interest for much longer. There are five seasons of this show to catch up on so it's still early days yet. Elite is set in a fancy high school for the sons and daughters of the area elite (hence the title). There's a mysterious death that kicks off the series and, so far, almost everything is told in flashbacks via police interviews. I don't mind the subtitles--in fact, many of my favorite films have subtitles--but it feels like I've seen all this before. And, just so you know, the "high school" cast members appear to be well into their 20's so you can stop clutching your pearls over the (allegedly) naked students. Even so, I've never been much into twinks--even when I was a twink myself--so the eye candy is having a short shelf-life for me. Besides, I don't find the story all that compelling. Elite is apparently a huge hit so I may be missing something but I have doubts. Yes, I have doubts. I'll leave it at that.
Not to be outdone in the nudity department is Prime's The Voyeurs, released last September, which finds protagonists Pippa and Thomas (Sydney Sweeney and Justice Smith) moving into a roomy loft and spying on their exceedingly comely and libidinous neighbors across the way (Ben Hardy and Natasha Liu Bordizzo). The peeping, unfortunately, comes with a terrible price. The Voyeurs is a totally ludicrous pseudo-updating of Hitchcock's Rear Window by way of OnlyFans--okay, I'm exaggerating a bit but you get the gist--and yet I was moderately entertained by it. This is not great filmmaking, by any means, and the ending may have you rolling your eyes and yelling at the TV screen. However, it is, at least, an attempt to recapture the spirit of suspenseful ADULT cinema that peaked back in the 90's. And whatever else is lacking, there is the, ahem, scenery.
C must still have his nightly fix of Jeopardy although until the show's producers re-install term limits for their contestants, I will remain missing in action. But, just for the record, I happen to like Ken Jennings as host (not love but like). A few night's ago, I accidentally stumbled across something on network television and realized, once again, why I never watch network television. This would be Judge Steve Hardy, which is like some unholy offshoot of Judge Judy (of whom I am not a fan in the first place). Has Steve Hardy even been to law school? Who cares? Perhaps the more appropriate question is whether ABC will stoop any lower in their pathetic attempts to court viewers. My money goes on yes, they most definitely will. Because, as has been proved time and time again, in every conceivable arena of American existence, the barrel has no bottom.
Meanwhile, Midsomer Murders, running in perpetuity on PBS and once a favorite of ours, continues to disappoint as each consecutive season is considerably worse than the one preceding it. I realize that by the time these episodes reach our shores, they're already at least 5 years old, so I can't even imagine how bad things have gotten in the Midsomer villages by now. A few nights ago, I began watching an episode centering around a group of clowns. Clowns! Well, you know how I feel about clowns so there wasn't much chance of me making it through that one anyhow. But, with or without clowns, this was purely suckalicious and I gave up after 20 minutes. As brazenly outrageous and inventive as the murders themselves often are, I may take a detour around Midsomer in the future.
On the DVD/Blu-ray front, I watched Tom of Finland, a recent biopic of the famed mid-century illustrator whose controversial and highly fetishistic work has become iconic to several generations of gay men. It's in Finnish (mostly) with English subtitles and has the feel of a prestigious BBC drama. I liked this movie fine, particularly when it details Tom's harrowing service in WWII, but it sometimes feels like the Reader's Digest Condensed version of a life. This movie also reminded me that, no matter how enlightened the countries of Northern Europe seem now, things weren't always that way; gay men in Finland were often subjected to the same brutality from police and government officials that they were everywhere else at the time. And still are in some countries.
And, finally, I watched Alphaville, Jean-Luc Godard's beloved 1965 Nouvelle vague classic that I'd long heard about but never seen. The movie is a French neo-noir/sci-fi/adventure that stars American-born Eddie Constantine, a fascinating character who started out as a professionally trained singer and wound up epitomizing the tough private eye in a series of hard-boiled French movie thrillers of the 50's and 60's. Here, he's perfectly cast as an aging, world-weary secret agent trying to locate both a missing fellow agent (possibly a defector), and a mad scientist who has created an evil computer that rules ruthlessly over the city. Theoretically it's a perfect film concoction for my viewing pleasure. And yet.... I did not love this movie. At all. Perhaps I need to watch it again? A very, very limited number of films require multiple viewings in order to be fully appreciated--Eraserhead immediately comes to mind, for instance. I like the fact that Godard filmed the movie using handheld cameras in and around Paris, with no sets or special effects, utilizing the natural light for many scenes. On the other hand, I'm not sure what to think about the movie's redundant agitprop that now seems dated, yet also oddly timely. In that case, I suppose I have to watch Alphaville again though it probably won't be anytime soon.
To be honest, I'll be happy to get my new glasses in a couple of weeks so I can resume my voracious reading. That close encounter with the concrete last December led to a chain reaction, and getting through an actual book these days takes significantly longer than it used to. Oddly, I can watch TV and computer screens with few difficulties--the one eye functions fine after the surgery. In another 2 weeks I should be able to clearly read the ingredients label on a package of Goldfish crackers. It beats watching clowns. In the meantime, I'll leave you with one last shot of Ben Hardy.
Comments
Post a Comment