Books About UFO's

Watchmen
In the theater (first time in 2009)

I saw Zack Snyder's competent Watchmen adaptation on Friday night and I've been trying to think of the proper angle from which to approach writing about it ever since. Like the director's 300, it's not a particularly cerebral film. He lines up the characters, he goes through the story, and he's not particularly interested in ambiguities or loose ends. Perhaps Snyder's economical approach is the only one possible: more ambitious directors like Terry Gilliam and Paul Greengrass have been attached to Watchmen projects but this is the one that actually got filmed.

Snyder has a nice fallback position because the rich psychological lives of the characters was the principal selling point of Alan Moore's graphic novel; he doesn't have to get into Nite Owl's impotence or The Comedian's sadism because readers of the book know all about that already. The director is careful about not having anyone act out of character, and he uses casting cleverly to nudge viewers' minds in the right direction. Patrick Wilson (from Hard Candy) is a perfect Nite Owl and Matthew Goode (The Lookout) seems appropriately impressed by himself in his limited screen time as Ozymandias. Brit Goode starts out affecting an American accent but by the end of the movie is doing a broad Charlton Heston "classical" delivery, which is something the comic book obviously never got the chance to consider and is something given the character's obsession with antiquity that makes perfect sense.

There's not much else added to the movie that wasn't done first and more authoritatively in the book. Rorshach is still crazy, Dr. Manhattan is still naked and blue, and the Silk Spectres still have boobs. Snyder does change the visualization of the ending (if not the effect), which serves only to make the whole thing wrap up neatly, rather than crawling with lingering questions and possible contradictions the way the comics did. By playing it safe clinging to the major beats of the story, I think Snyder has made a movie that's completely impossible to appreciate for people who haven't read the comic. Although his dedication to recreating entire compositions from the book will make the film fun on DVD for Moore fanboys, none of the mysteries and easter eggs in the Watchmen movie are its own -- they're all just borrowed from the source material.

I'm glad they made it, just as I was kind of detached in my enjoyment when they made the Lord of the Rings films -- maybe the movies didn't come close to the book, but they certainly drummed up a lot of interest in that world. The Peter Jackon trilogy did a lot better than Watchmen does at getting some of the non-narrative flavor of the original, but then again, he had seven hours of running time to work with and even more on DVD. At under three hours, it's extraordinary that Watchmen can be followed at all. Part of me wishes that I could see it again without such intimate knowledge of the graphic novel, to see whether I could tell what was going on. (My girlfriend was completely befuddled, but she's one of those Facebook generation people who has trouble following the plots of "Big Bang Theory" episodes.)

It is nice though that Comic-Con type culture has pervaded the mainstream to the extent that a $200 million adaptation of a cult series is not an uncommon risk for a mainstream studio these days. Apparently the contracts of all the Watchmen actors (and Malin Akerman) have sequel clauses. I don't know if the lawyers who drafted those contracts have read the book, but the slavish devotion to the original demonstrated by the filmmakers in this instance makes me curious about how they would possibly try and invent an entire original sequel given the wholesale lack of original ideas in the first film.

It is very cool that we have comic book movies for grown-ups nowadays, a few misbegotten sequels to the side. Watchmen the movie doesn't pull punches. When The Comedian is attempting to force his attentions on the first Silk Spectre, we see a closeup of his crotch and the unmistakable sound of stretching rubber. Dr. Manhattan's penis swings around in full view most of the time just as it did in the comic, and it's not gratuitous -- an important aspect of the character is that he still holds on to these certain vestiges of humanity even though they have no further purpose or meaning for him. What we're still waiting to see is a director who combines the technical skills of Snyder with the independent creative vision of an Alan Moore or Neil Gaiman or Frank Miller. Until then, movies like Sin City and Watchmen are like watching a really good cover band -- it's a good time, but the people who deserve most of the credit are the original songwriters.

Truth in Advertising

Rachel Getting Married

DVD via DVD Play

I'm trying to slog through all the major Oscar-nominated films at this time this year, and we're off to a moderately rousing start. The Visitor, though quiet, was lovely and its lead performance was completely worthy of the Best Actor nomination it garnered. I'm going to give Best Original Screenplay loser In Bruges another shot here in a second. But first: Rachel Getting Married.

This turned out to be a great early choice for my "see all the nominated movies or else get bored and stop" challenge. For a couple of reasons. First, it's a beautiful-looking movie, lit like a thesis class and directed with masterly control by Jonathan Demme, patron saint of the neverending handheld tracking shot. Demme, among other movies you have may have seen, directed the miraculous Talking Heads concert film Stop Making Sense, one of the very small handful of films I watch upwards of ten times a year and enjoy a bit more each time. (Actually, that and The Big Lebowski might be the whole list. Must remember to keep count this year.) Roger Ebert's annoyingly perceptive review notes how the camera's perspective behaves like a guest at a real wedding, pausing on certain unidentified but familiar faces and circling around to show who else is present but not speaking.

Demme's movie is a bit of a smorgasbord. You can watch the central plot, which is satisfying if a little heavy and bland by itself. You can sample the music of all different kinds that is such a constant presence -- Rachel's wedding has live klezmer, reggae toasting, New Orleans jazz, hip-hop, Tunde Adebimpe, Indian chants, and Robyn Hitchcock -- and makes its own possibly contradictory statements about the film's imagery. You could go through like a season of "The Wire" and try to learn every single character's name and their function, because this is the sort of movie where even people with few or no lines have precisely defined roles. You could try to watch Anne Hathaway's bathtub scene in slo-mo to catch a glimpse of her nipples, although it'd be an inefficient use of your time since she was so free with the girls in Havoc and Brokeback Mountain. I just mention it as another example of the richness of Rachel Getting Married. It's a film with a lot to offer.

The one sort of concern I had while viewing the film had to do with its newfound status as Hathaway's Oscar picture. She didn't win, but on the whole the ceremony played like a "welcome to the A-list, baby" coronation. She got a cameo in Hugh Jackman's opening number that brought the house down, and of all the subjects of the "former winner delivers effusive praise" speeches given for the presentation of the acting awards, Hathaway received the biggest fawning double-barreled blast. The only trouble is, she has to win in the next few years or else she'll get paranoid and start making only prestige (i.e., money-losing) pictures. Then the Academy will have to throw her a bone and reward her an statuette she hasn't earned just so she'll go back to being profitable. Not that I am suggesting that this is anything like what happened to Kate Winslet this year, beating out our girl Anne for Best Actress for a supporting role in a movie few saw and nobody liked.

The trouble is, while Hathaway is certainly the lead in Rachel Getting Married, her character and her struggles are hardly the entire point of the film. Jenny Lumet's script gives Hathaway's Kym a pretty typical Hollywood drug addiction, complete with an overdramatic precipitating event (a car wreck that kills a family member) and a bunch of codependent relations who fill in roles like subheadings in a psychology textbook. There's the mother whose unresolved feelings of guilt cause her to shut the rest out, the overcompensating father who tries to give double the love to the kids who remain, and the bitter "good" sister (that'd be Rachel) who has become as paranoid as the addict. They all fight with each other, a lot (Debra Winger and Hathaway exchange blows to the face, closed-fist punches not slaps, at one point), and then they hug and they cry. If that makes it sound kind of like Ordinary People with nuptials, so be it. I'll say it again, the mere plot is incidental to Demme's accomplishment here.

If this wasn't as intelligent a movie as it is, it would make the plot its whole point. Kym's self-destructiveness would somehow endanger Rachel's wedding to Sidney (Adebimpe) and the sisters would have to Come to Terms with Things after Kym saved the ceremony at the last minute. That would be garbage. There's never any question that Sidney and Rachel are getting hitched, the movie doesn't kid itself that Kym and Rachel are going to work out their problems with their mother in a weekend, and instead of an extended climax of more shouting the film glides to a close with an extended montage of music, bright colors, smiling faces, and constant movement.

The point is that love and marriage (and death and divorce) renew families; if Kym and Rachel will never have their brother Ethan back, or their mother back the way she was before he died, now they are lucky enough to have the gentle, decent Sidney (Adebimpe's body language in his scenes with Hathaway, even though the two exchange no lines, is note-perfect) in addition to his radiant younger sister, loyal best friends, and the 45 or so musicians that seem to follow them all around caravan-style. As the movie builds towards this highly visual finish, the director changes gears and switches from a very tight, naturally lit, realistic palette to a far more gauzy, old-Hollywood pastel feel. The transition is accomplished by way of the cleansing bath scene (which does have an artistic purpose beyond nipples), which has the metaphorical effect of fogging up the camera's lens for the wedding sequence.

During the musical numbers at the reception, the outfits of everyone on the dance floor match the style being played even as that genre keeps changing, which is ridiculous given the huge variety of costumes and cultures we now to be in attendance. It's poetic license, which wouldn't have been possible or appropriate at any point in Rachel Getting Married short of the end. I don't have a big problem with that, but at a certain point Demme does go past overboard with the wanton multiculturalism -- it's an interracial wedding with bridesmaids in Indian dress, Jewish toasts, Robyn Hitchcock jamming with gypsies and their bouzoukis. Where did they hold this magical wedding, Connecticut or Sesame Street?

I don't know whether anyone else is going to have my experience watching the movie, where I got started expecting to focus primarily on Hathaway (she's good) only to realize about 25 minutes in that I was totally watching it wrong -- I should have been looking in the margins for Sidney's sister and the girls' father's second wife and the Asian-American groomsman who can't hold his liquor and sort of looks like Masuka from "Dexter" only isn't.

Marketing the movie as Hathaway's big breakthrough into the realm of serious actressdom is a disservice to the many other talented people who worked so hard to make the movie as good as it is, not least of all Lumet and Demme. The box art has a huge zoom of the star in close-up and two other figures in the background, the bride and her father. A cover that was truer to the spirit and the message of Rachel Getting Married would have a huge group of people smiling and shimmying on the dance floor, including Kym and Rachel but with no one in particular in focus. Everyone doing their own thing, having a good time being together, maybe leaning a little bit on the person next to them for a moment if they lose their balance, but mostly just doing their best to keep upright.

Gradually It Gets Better

"American Idol"

Fox via DVR

I didn't want to do two "Idol" posts in a row, but the only other thing I watched in the interim was ten minutes of In Bruges, and then I fell asleep. Warm milk and films about Belgium are better than Ambien.

"Idol" had a lot to answer for going into the first episode with the Final 13. In an attempt (I think) to improve the diversity and the marketability of the contending group, they toyed with the semifinal format endlessly. They often seemed to be making up the rules as they were going along, which is annoying to viewers of any competition -- ask any NFL fan. But that is over now, and you have to give it to them that the quality across the board of the singers in the first finals round show was vastly improved from the semifinals. It was also better than the first big-stage shows from the last two seasons, because under the midseason format people who weren't good but had fanbases kept cruising and the beginning of the finals didn't seem like all of that sharp a distinction from the end of the semis. It couldn't have been more night and day this time around. Of the finalists only Megan Corkrey flat-out sucks at singing. I wonder how long she'll hang around... probably a while.

Michael Jackson night? Great idea. Michael Jackson night for the very first show of the finals? Bad idea. We're still figuring out what to make of these contestants, most of whom we are seeing for only the second or third full-length performances. It wasn't quite fair to any of the finalists to ask them to do anything as mega-exposed and distinctive as Jacko's back catalog. They're not established enough to take a risk with a bold new interpretation, but there's not a lot of room for them to express their personalities within the songs as they were made famous. Outright mendacious analysis from the judges made things even more hard to follow. Anoop got hammered for singing "Beat It" well while Adam was lauded for singing "Black or White" badly. The judges dished it out for contestants who picked songs that weren't famous enough and songs that were too famous. Isn't the point of having a Michael Jackson theme that his songs are so well-loved? Why tease the theme then not let anyone sing any of the famous songs? The show's stated logic and the actual behind-the-scenes machinations of the producers couldn't be any further distinct.

Lil Rounds This was one of the few shockers of the night. Lil was brutally poor. I thought she was too talented to ever be this bad, like a Melinda Doolittle who would catch a tough theme every now and then and post an 8 instead of a 9 or a 10. But Lil's "The Way You Make Me Feel" was dreadful-sounding, not at all the recognizable product of one of the few real goosepimple-raising talents of "Idol" season eight. She had no fathomable connection to the song and sounded it. She seemed melodically and rhythmically adrift and frequently started shouting instead of singing, which is something you expect from Adam (in fact, it's all you expect from Adam) but not Lil. Her asymmetrical outfit was also very hideous. Can the fact that Lil is impervious to criticism from the rapidly marginalizing judges fool all of the voters all of the time? I don't know. She can afford this kind of so-so showing once, but I feel like all of the hype has gone to Lil's head. She doesn't think she has to try hard, or at least she didn't think she had to try hard this time. It was a chance for the buzzworthiest "Idol" hopeful of the new season to kick off a redemptive finals phase in style, and Lil completely flubbed it. She was way below her ability level, so far that she even sounded crummy by the standards of the average "Idol" contestant. If she becomes a shocker voting casualty tomorrow, I don't think anybody can say she didn't deserve it. 6

Scott MacIntyre Scott's trajectory has been unusual, which is reason enough to root for him. He started out seeming like the most shameless of several heart-tugging stories the "Idol" editors forced upon us during the audition rounds. Then he kept singing, and kept hanging on to sing some more. Suddenly, he doesn't seem at all out of place as an "Idol" finalist or even as a potential winner. His voice is fine -- above-average, though capable of an occasional leap to greatness like his huge high note in "Keep the Faith." But his conviction and his musicality are just miles ahead of everybody else's, and it doesn't hurt anything that he's the most talented instrumentalist they've had around for this long since instruments entered the picture last season. He learned to play this song on the piano this week, and look how composed and professional he seemed as opposed to Kris Allen's random, inaudible guitar strumming. It might have been more interesting to see Scott apply his musical know-how to developing a signature new arrangement for a song less innately suited to his style. That was one of the other opportunities missed when the producers elected to move Jackson night right to the front of the finals schedule. Another would have been bringing back Danny Gokey's best buddy from the Hollywood shows and having the two of them sing "The Girl Is Mine" together. 9

Danny Gokey Danny seemed a lot less relevant and a lot more desperate singing a song not explicitly referencing the continuing deceased state of his young wife. He did "P.Y.T.," which is kind of a minor song, and made it goony and populist in a sort of low-rent Taylor Hicks fashion. The producers' unrestrained enthusiasm for Lil and Adam, I understand. She's got a huge voice and preternatural confidence onstage, and he looks like Robert Pattinson meets Fall Out Boy, only he knows how to apply his own eyeliner. But Danny? I just don't get it. Assuming sympathy alone is enough to get millions of women to buy his record, who's going to listen to it more than once? Danny is the worst offender in a cast full of shouters and damningly his delivery didn't alter any going from a power ballad to an up-tempo dance number. His dance moves themselves, it should be noted, were wedding-reception quality. I do respect Danny for pressing his huge advantage regarding camera time early on during the season. No one has forgotten who he is, and that's job one for an "Idol" wannabe at this stage. Still, he garbled most of the lyrics until he reached the chorus and while I don't completely hate his voice, it's always more accurate to classify his performances as "energetic" as opposed to "good." Somebody's got to get with him on the art of proper breathing, too, as he was huffing and puffing by the end and looked like he was going to pass out while doing the postmortem with Seacrest. 7

Michael Sarver A better storyline than a singer, Sarver has gotten to the point where he just sounds like a guppy in a pond full of piranhas. The end of the road can not be far off. It was sad, because you couldn't ignore how much he was giving in his "You Are Not Alone" -- he was bleeding to make the song pop for us. But he just wasn't good enough. He had lots of long sustained blue notes. Even when he is in key, I don't think his voice has that phantom, indefinable quality of originality that a star's simply must have. Scott MacIntyre has it, David Cook had it for sure, Michael is just a well put-together sack full of bland. I hope he gets by this week because it would be sad if he got sent home on a night when he did his absolute best and a lot of more talented singers didn't even try to offer theirs. 5

Jasmine Murray Jasmine reminds me a lot of Syesha Mercado, who I kept dissing for the better part of a season until she was one of the last handful of contestants standing. Syesha had a lot more personality, though. They're similar in that they both have voices that aren't immediately arresting but have more to them than they often show. Jasmine's "I'll Be There" was really quite lovely, probably the best pure vocal of the evening and surely the best she's done on "Idol" so far. She took a less is more approach to her outfit and stage moves too and was so much the better for it. Technically good singers with a lack of flash don't fare well in the peculiar "Idol" format. Jasmine's lack of "it" factor (where "it" translates as "embarrassing, fawning and inaccurate praise from all four judges regardless of performance quality each week") makes her an elimination target. She was miles better than Lil last night, but she's in real danger while Lil isn't in any. That's pretty lame. Whenever Jasmine gets the boot, the singer right ahead of her in the voting who gets to stay at her expense probably won't be anywhere near as deserving. 8

Kris Allen Another typical "American Idol" contestant, Kris proved unable to bear the burden of two contradictory demands upon his person for MJ night. First, he had to use his guitar, because the judges more or less told him so when he went though the last time without it. Second, he had to do a Michael Jackson song. Kris is a good enough singer and comely enough that he could have sang "Remember the Time" exactly as he did, only without wearing and sort of playing a guitar while doing so, and it would have put him safely towards the upper middle of the voting pack. But he brought out the acoustic guitar, which looked awkward and sounded all wrong, for the second or two it took the master "Idol" soundman to simply turn off its feed. That's called forcing it, bro. The trouble is if you go back and listen to his vocal without watching, it sounds good. Could have been better if he wasn't mucking about with the guitar, but not bad. You watch it again, though, and the whole thing feels wrong. It would be bizarre were he to get voted off here, because after four weeks of semifinals and a month of buildup to those, we still haven't seen exactly what it was in Kris that the judges saw in the first place. Maybe it was all the soul patch. I don't know myself. 7

Allison Iraheta Allison might have peaked too early, but a rapid flameout may have been all we could of expected from someone who only occasionally seems to display the behavior of a conscious human. She could be on "Dollhouse," she's so completely vacant one moment and screaming diva the next. She and Eliza Dushku should do promos together. Allison's voice is reminiscent at times of Melissa Etheridge's, although unfortunately she shares Etheridge's tendency to make any two melodies she sings sound like the same song. I liked her modified Farrah hair quite a bit. It's going to get difficult quickly to find new things to say about her if she lasts more than a couple of weeks. At the very least you could say that she's consistent. And that alone among all of those left standing, you know precisely what an Allison Iraheta debut album would sound like. That album probably wouldn't have between-song snippets of her pricelessly useless extemporaneous speaking, but for its sake as a souvenir it sure should. 8

Anoop Desai I expected going into the live shows that I would become a big Anoop guy, but it never really came together. He seems a little lazy, to tell you the truth, and while you can't deny him his passion for music, you can question whether the particular music he is passionate about is crappy or not. I sort of liked his "Beat It." It was an impossible song to take on given its famousness and yet Anoop walked the line between paying homage and inserting his own touches as well as it could be managed. Even his jacket and some of his stage moves seemed like little misremembered tributes, in a way that none of his competitors were savvy enough to manage. But the bad part is, with such an easy melody there wasn't any excuse for all the mistakes Desai made. I wouldn't be surprised if he went home tomorrow; I wouldn't be surprised if he was top two. This guy is shifty that way. 7

Jorge Nuñez Jorge was one of the singers least affected by the theme, as he picked a tune unfamiliar to me that showcased his pure pop and Latin elements in the desirable ratio. I wonder if his choices for the night were narrowed by the high number of Jackson songs that depend on very fast, staccato English lyrics. That's not really his thing. Thankfully for Jorge going forward, most of the beloved numbers in the "Idol" songbook don't require any language comprehension skills at all, just moist eyes and vibrato. Some contestants benefit from boosts in confidence level more than others. The new, smarmy Jorge didn't sing as convincingly well as he did during the semis and his manner with the judges was a lot less ingratiating. I don't want to call him a contender yet, but I think he has more left to show us. 8

Megan Corkrey Comparisons to Kristy Lee Cook are inevitable with Megan. She's smoking hot, but she can't sing, just like Kristy Lee. She obviously has smarter handlers because it took Kristy Lee down to, like, the final seven before she realized her T&A was her only selling quality and started wearing hand towels in lieu of skirts. Megan dressed extra slutty and did all she could with "Rockin' Robin," which was very little. At least by picking something Michael could sing perfectly as a preteen she didn't overextended herself. I don't what happened to her granola-eating, soul-singer, Joan Osborne quality but it seems to have gone the way of Norman Gentle and Tatiana Del Toro: couldn't make it to the finals. Pitchwise she was simply awful and her vocal even when in key only seemed there as an excuse for her to be on stage displaying her other assets. With her looks, she could become judge-proof, but if she can't even do a halfway mediocre "Rockin' Robin" there isn't that much chance of her not face-planting more obviously some week soon. You know, I would kind of like to see that. Vote for Megan! 3

Adam Lambert You thought Sanjaya was bad? Adam's "Satisfaction" was sort of a subjective thing, you could see people enjoying it or hating it and you could construct an argument either way. But his "Black and White" was atrocious. To begin with, "Black and White" isn't really a song, it was just one piece of the massive multimedia blitz that surrounded Jackson's early-90's "comeback" with his Dangerous album. You probably remember the long-form video, where he beat up the car at the end (memorably parodied by Phil Collins of all people in a great Genesis clip). The song, like the video, is just a mishmash of a bunch of things perceived to be commercial at the time, like Slash, synthesized wood-block percussion sounds, and multiculturalism. In that sense it was perfect for Adam Lambert, the "Idol" contestant of the moment. Great attitude! Great look! Great vibe! Absolutely no musical acumen? Not important! See, Adam doesn't really sing songs, he just yells them, as loudly and as theatrically as he possibly can. Once in a while he gets lucky and sounds really great, but I'm not wholly convinced that this is a repeatable phenomenon. A few of his huge reaches Tuesday were swing-for-the-fences-and-fall-flat-on-your-face whiffs. Lambert's overdramatic approach to... everything got old five weeks ago. His added inducements to the crowd were forced, hokey, and insincere. I will have plenty of time to think of more ways to describe how much I don't like Adam because his crocodile tears while the judges heaped unwarranted praise upon him punched his ticket for the next two months. 4

Matt Giraud This goes to show how much I know. I don't really dig Matt Giraud that much -- I don't know if he'll have enough chances to erase the memory of that misbegotten effort to cross Coldplay and the New Radicals. But, I will say that of the performers from Tuesday night's "Idol" show, he was the one who seemed the most like a currently relevant commercial artist to me. That's not entirely a compliment. Giraud is shallow and predictable, and his voice tops out at pleasant. But I can totally see people buying tickets to see him in concert and paying $35 for a t-shirt to prove they were there. He's not original, he resembles a bunch of other white guys with no balls who dress like Marvin Gaye and can't hold their necks still while they're singing. But there are a bunch of guys just like that who are selling lots of records right now, so there's your winning "Idol" formula, Matt Giraud. He picked "Human Nature," and did himself a huge favor right there. That's a great song and one that's relatively lightly remembered given its status as a massive hit single from the bestselling album of all time. The song was pretty much in Matt's wheelhouse and he carried it off, although I don't know whether it was necessary for him to take some focus off the vocal by playing piano. Matt's an entertainer, not a serious musician, and his instrument isn't like an extension of his body the way it is for Scott MacIntyre. If Matt were to be a successful touring artist after his "Idol" spell, I doubt he'd spent much if any time on stage behind a keyboard. MacIntyre obviously would -- that's your litmus test. 8

Alexis Grace I try not to overdo it with this sort of stuff, but... man, Alexis looked hot. She looked amazingly hot. She's five feet tall and like two-thirds legs. Her figure is extraordinary for a young mother. Her stiletto heels and tight all-black getup completely erased all of my memories of whatever Megan Corkrey was wearing. Too bad she had to sing, too. Alexis seems like she's one of those folks who can sing just fine when they know the song really, really well, but not enough of a practiced musician to work up new material on a deadline. I suspected as much. She sort of hovered around tune for most of the number, but at the expense of all of her personal expression and style... frankly, I kind of tuned out and watched her legs for the second half of it. I don't regret my decision. 5

Two go home this week, since the judges randomly selected 13 finalists instead of 12. That makes things a little easier, I guess. The two who most obviously don't belong in this group are Michael and Megan. I guess Megan could get by at the expense of somebody like Jasmine or Kris but this early on I like to give America the benefit of the doubt and figure that they can tell when someone is on key less than half of the time. They had the chance to vote for her once before and she didn't get through, recall.

That Wasn't Wild

"American Idol"
Fox via DVR

The wild-card "American Idol" show was such a bummer. The judges picked who got to compete and then the judges picked who went through to the finals. Why even have the show at all? It feels like the rug was pulled out from under me and my prognosticating service, which is why I may be a little tardy with these reviews. It seems useless to write about all of these people that already have no chance of going on but what the heck. Let's give them one more quarter second of fame!

Jesse Langseth I was pulling for Jesse after the judges pooh-poohed her performance of "Bette Davis Eyes" for not having enough notes in it. She did "Tell Me Something Good," which was another good song choice for her smokey voice, and she put a lot of sex appeal into it. She handled the song's rhythm, which is out of beat with the melody, adroitly. Jesse never really absorbed the judges' advice to be more gymnastic with her voice, and she may have shared too much of the spotlight with the backing singers. She didn't end with much of a swooping grace note and although I enjoyed both of her performances I can see how she failed to fit the pyrotechnic mold of female "Idol" favorites past. 7

Matt Giraud Matt got raked over the coals for a lame attempt to instill soul in a Coldplay song last time out. So here he went, in overly labored fashion, in the opposite direction, doing a soul song in a self-consciously "soul" fashion. At least he can follow instructions, unlike so many other contestants who chose to ignore direct commands. I didn't like his defensive hat and scarf combo. His voice is pleasant enough but his growls and ad libs belie his goony stage-entertainer background. I still don't have a finger on whether he's any good or not yet, but we'll get at least one more chance to see since the judges seem to really be fans. 8

Megan Corkrey I suspect that Megan might be one of those singers "Idol" dredges up every now and then who sounds just great as long as she's doing something in her narrow comfort zone and then collapses the minute she's forced by a theme to try something different. She hasn't sounded anywhere near perfect even on two songs right in her wheelhouse in the semifinal show and then in the wild card round. She did the annoying "Black Horse and Cherry Tree," one of those songs that was chemically manufactured into a hit single by the use of an idiotically simple repeated riff and lots and lots of ProTools work. She sounded more confident than her first time on stage but still had glitches aplenty, and her big finish note was horrible. The judges love her -- she's a package artist. 7

Von Smith The pointy-haired guy. I wonder if it drips in the lights. It must, right? That would explain why he looked so sweaty. Von sang "Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word" and it was one of the sort of performances that was more common on "Idol" back in the day: utterly traditional, technically solid, completely without any kind of star power or commercial quality. His voice was bland, his outfit was bland, and it seemed dated and more like an audition than a commanding stage performance. Paula had a rare astute comment in that she perceived that Von was over-thinking his performance. He has plenty of time to think about it now. 8

Jasmine Murray Jasmine's "My Reflection" was far more of a star-making effort than her first attempt. She was solid for the most part on a lot of big notes, if it was a bit drippy a song choice. Some of the judges were harping on her pitch problems but I didn't hear as many as they apparently did. It's not surprising how the average quality of the performances increased for this wild card show, since all the singers were handpicked, it was a win-or-go-home situation, and everyone had been given at least one good chewing-out by this point. Why couldn't every show (save the very first one) have been like this? Jasmine is through, part for the sake of balancing the field, part on potential. 8

Ricky Braddy All these white guys keep singing Stevie Wonder, and no matter how well or badly they do... they ain't Stevie. Seems like there are a lot of more manageable role models for the Rickys and Matts of the world, from Alex Chilton to Steve Winwood. But anyway, between all the covers and the actual blind guy, they have to get the real deal as a mentor this season. Ricky's "Superstitious" bordered on shouting at points. He has good pipes and was melodically convincing, but not visually so; he simply didn't move or work the camera with the requisite authority to be a true soulman. He had some good and bad notes with his falsetto. On one of the first three shows it could have been a standout, but it was too lumpy to win in a stronger field. 7

Tatiana Del Toro I was secretly rooting for the Puerto Rican firebrand to shriek her way into the finals, where her peculiar brand of menace and self-pity might have brought on a whole new level of love-hate phone voting psychology. Dimly Tatiana chose to merely repeat her first-time choice of "Saving All My Love" and although it kind of made sense given her profile (no self-preservation instinct whatsoever) it was an utterly self-defeating move. She didn't even sing it as well the second time. It's too bad. She was one of the better pure singers in the Top 36 -- and easily the most telegenic contestant of all Season 8. 8

Anoop Desai I didn't think Anoop even had to sing. The fix was in for him from the beginning, which might explain how little effort the talented but inert Desai put into both of his semifinal-round numbers. "My Prerogative" was the song Anoop got the most props for during the Hollywood auditions, so he broke it out here with the full band. It wasn't a flat-out repeat like Tatiana's but it was a pretty obvious move. You have to wonder whether Anoop has the competitive edge, or the attention span, to last long in the finals with people as good as he is who care a lot more. He was bringing the heat with powerful high, sustained notes at the end. Although he still hasn't hit one out of the park yet he certainly has the capability to do so. I think that's what the judges were thinking about with at least some of the folks they sent through -- Anoop and Matt and maybe Jasmine could pitch a perfect game one night. Megan, not so much. But she's got the package. 8

A very solid, fun night, easily the best since the live shows started a month ago. The shorter running time makes all the difference because the proportion of singing time to noncommercial filler is so much higher. I think we can all agree at this point that they bungled the semifinals but I have hope going forward. I don't have any huge favorites in the field but there are a higher than usual number of completely unpredictable ones. That will keep us guessing and scratching our heads when the theme shows start.

Ranking the final 13:
1. Lil: She has the producers in her pocket and the only WMD of a voice in the field.
2. Danny: Dead wife. Dead wife. Dead wife.
3. Alexis: Beautiful, and will stand out as even more original with female belters alongside.
4. Adam: Judge's favorite has a lot left to prove about musical knowledge, skill and taste.
5. Anoop: Back in a big way. Has to appear to want it more, but best male singer in group.
6. Allison: Huge voice, very small personality. May want to hire publicist right now.
7. Scott: Can't belt with Adam and Danny but way more interesting. Needs to find current vibe.
8. Jorge: Great voice, adorable eyebrows, needs to prove he's not dumb just because of accent.
9. Matt: Good enough to hang around for a while once it's only 1 elimination a week.
10. Megan: Never got what judges saw in her, is toast when they get to Latin or Standards.
11. Kris: Cutie could move up quick with the right song -- and the right outfit.
12. Michael: Well, at least he's got another week or two's vacation from the oil rig.
13. Jasmine: Prove me wrong, Jasmine! Prove me wrong!

Most Broke Major Leaguers Are Like This

"Eastbound and Down"
HBO via On-Demand

While HBO's dramas are fretted-over, movie-budgeted things with huge production teams and high-level executive oversight, their comedies tend to be relatively shoestring productions. A successful HBO drama requires heft and expensive sets. Their hit comedies are mostly the result of catching funny people when they're hot -- Larry David fresh off "Seinfeld," Ricky Gervais right after the BBC "Office," Flight of the Conchords just when they had written enough good songs for one funny season. The not funny but popular "Entourage" launched at the time when its also not funny but popular exec producer/inspiration Mark Wahlberg was at the height of his powers. (Both have since declined.)

It remains to be seen whether Danny McBride of Pineapple Express and The Foot Fist Way has the range to do more than one character. Will Ferrell, in an extended cameo in the second episode of McBride's new HBO series "Eastbound and Down," has finally fallen prey to the old comedians' bane where the thinks anything he does is funny -- I have the recorder scheduled to tape his live Bush special, but my hopes are not high. McBride, on the other hand, has developed a persona that's been consistently laugh-out-loud in his brief exposure to date. He plays a hugely overconfident, obnoxious idiot who plays as sympathetic for no reason other than McBride's hangdog appearance. With his timeless mullet and wounded defensiveness, he's so obviously headed for his just desserts that you can't help but root for him. He has a bit of Basil Fawlty or Johnny Drama in him.

McBride plays Kenny Powers, a washout smoke-throwing relief pitcher who hasn't adjusted to the fact that three years have gone by since last his name drew any water. He goes to work as a substitute gym teacher in his hometown. "Eastbound and Down" doesn't stretch far for plot material, stealing at will from "Strangers With Candy" and other single-camera sitcoms. Director David Gordon Green gives the second and third episodes a languid, art-film quality that's so inappropriate to the material that it's kind of funny all by itself. The quicker-cut pilot is the slightest of the three episodes I've seen so far, but they're all pretty funny. McBride's comedy style relies a little heavily on obscene language but the show is set up so that the scenes themselves are funny and the improvised dialogue only reinforces them. "Deadwood" alum John Hawkes gives the show some gravitas, perhaps more than it needs or deserves, as McBride's character's working-dude older brother.

It's not the sort of thing that has the legs to run for four or more seasons, but in a down season it helps HBO to have another comedy that actually makes people laugh. The way each episode begins exactly where the last left off is cute and gives the show an extra kick when you're watching several episodes in a row, which is surely how most people will experience "Eastbound and Down" through DVD, On Demand, and the internet. I wouldn't overload on too many at once, as we're not talking about the kind of engrossing storytelling for which HBO wins awards. However, "Eastbound" has "Deadwood," "Six Feet Under," and "The Sopranos" beaten even within its first three episodes for topless jetskiiing scenes.

Atrocity This Week

"American Idol"

Fox via DVR

Maybe the worst "American Idol" live show in history, after two weeks that were strong contenders for the same title. Can we get an apology somewhere? Can one of the eight guys named "Nigel" who are strong silent profit-sharers in this venture come out and say they totally went overboard trying to "fix" the format? Last season might have seen the ratings dip a little bit, but it's an eight-year-old show and it still utterly crushes all other programming this time of year. How could "Idol" offer us the tease of so many interesting singer/musicians (as opposed to witless divas) and then not allow them to play an instrument in their stage debuts?

The judges' comments last night to Scott MacIntyre more or less made it clear that instruments were not allowed in the semifinals, not that that ever was explained to the viewing audience. That could have made a huge difference in the voting, as voters might have reacted to poor performances by Stephen Fowler or Nathaniel Marshall without their instruments by recalling their bits in the Hollywood auditions and giving them a sympathy boost. "Idol" loves to change the rules without disclosing what's really going on -- look at last-minute semifinalist Felicia Barton. Her intro clip and the judges were effervescent describing her miracle re-entry into the semifinals after being sent home from Hollywood. Trouble is, they were each trying clumsily to hide the real story, which is that Joanna Pacitti was sent packing for having too many insider connections for comfort. Why not just say so? Why give annoying, tried-and-found-wanting Joanna a shot in the first place?

The producers want Kelly Clarkson, every year. They want someone who's a winner in both the "Idol" popularity contest and on the pop charts. Yet, they also want to get the maximum number of eyes tuned to every "Idol" telecast. So there's all the storyline stuff, blind guy, homeless girl, dead wife, teen mom. And then there's still Lil Rounds and Adam Lambert, upon whom the marketing people have zeroed in as potential crossover smashes, getting the best slots and frothing adoration from the crooked judges. As for all the people in the middle, modestly talented singers with their own lives and stories and personalities, the show just doesn't care. And that's why it's so bad this year -- no one is making any effort to make every contestant the best they can be.

The producers aren't even trying with the gigantic light cues and audience reaction shots. The judges are hammering away at all the people we haven't seen much of even though there's absolutely nothing any of them could have done to control the editing of the early shows. And the effort level from the band has been the worst inconsistency -- when it counts, when the pressure's on from upstairs, they still rock like few else in the land, but for the Alex Wegner-Trugmans of the world, it seems like they're mailing it in more blatantly than Paula's short-term memory.

But the wild card show could be potentially redeeming, with big personalities like Tatiana and Norman Gentle possibly on tap and real talent like Anoop Desai and Jesse Langseth deserving of a second shot. And then this stupid misbegotten semifinal round will be over and perhaps we can move into a Final 12 season that will be borderline watchable. Well, we're probably all going to get really sick of Adam and Lil. But at least when the finals begin we'll have people who presumably aren't total simpering morons making the song choices, and that'll be a massive improvement.

Tuesday's show was pretty devastatingly bad, almost as bad as Brooke White's original lyrics, so we're going to move quickly this week so I don't have to think about it any longer than I have to. Song choice wasn't the issue this time out -- simply put, there wasn't enough talent to fill out a field of 36, and most of the dregs winded up in this 12. There was no right song for most of this group.

Von Smith His pointy hair makes him look like a "Dragonball Z" character, or a vampire with a soul. He's charming and self-possessed but his voice is reedy and thin and in picking "All I Need to Get By" he elected to go the course of lame karaoke Stevie impersonation. The band managed to take that monster hook, sampled about a billion times, and sand off the edges until it sounded like elevator music. And this was an above-average performance by the standards of the semifinals thus far. 6

Taylor Vaifanua Hmm, Samoan name, hails from Utah... what are the odds she has a brother or cousin who played offensive line for BYU, like one in one? Every year they put through a brace of pretty, ethnic teen girls and while there's an exception (Jordin Sparks) to every rule they're nearly always useless under the bright lights. Taylor picked "If I Ain't Got You," another one of those songs that should be retired from "Idol" usage for the sake of any of us ever enjoying the original recordings again. I was steadying myself for a complete train wreck when she got to the challenging, higher-octave chorus section but Taylor simplified things for herself by just not going up. She showed a bit of feeling for the song and sounded okay in places but boy there were a lot of flubs for a song subjected to such a difficulty-compromising arrangement. 5

Alex Wegner-Trugman Alex seems like old news, a big nerd with a little bit of a voice who takes bad turns graciously and would be a riot to take to tea with your grandmother. "Idol" kind of worked its way through the possibilities of this archetype in its early seasons and having determined that they don't win the big prize or sell lots of albums, we've seen its kind less recently. Simon seemed bored with Alex to the degree of rudeness Tuesday, but you can sort of feel where he's coming from. Wegner-Trugman's interpretation of "I Guess That's What It Means to Fall in Love" was part ghastly Elton impersonation and part whale call. I feel a little tiny bit bad for him because I think during the grind of the auditions and the long wait for the third week of the semis he was completely adrift as to what was expected of him. Isn't it the duty of the judges and the producers to feed these kids a hook they can use? 3

Arianna Afsar See what I mean about these ethnic teens? Arianna is a better singer than Taylor but she displayed an equal lack of intelligence about how best to display her gifts. She picked ABBA's "Winner Takes All," and selecting a 30-year-old song succeeded in making her sound at least 40. She had an unfortunate tendency to get to a peak and let loose with a whole scale of notes one after the other, save the one root she was actually supposed to be hitting. Sometimes her showy instincts paid off, because she's got range and some chops, but she was also terribly out of touch with the melody or simply out of key a good bit of the time as well. I think she's another very good example of a singer who might have grown into her talent a bit more under the old format. 7

Ju'Not Joyner This wasn't the song-choice apocalypse that the last two weeks were, but there was still space in the evening's program for a doozy or two. Likable Ju'Not immediately blew any chances he had of being remembered beyond this week with a slow-jam re-imagining of a sucktastic emo ballad. That's just dumb. I guess you give him credit for the imagination, but if you take brain-dead lyrics and a facile melody and give them an urban feel... they're still what they were. Lipstick on a pig, as they say. Besides, by picking a song with a melody a tracheotomy patient could sing, he didn't give himself a rich enough field for his numerous improvisations. When he left the written melody, he lost pitch more often than not. He picked a song that was too simple, and then he compounded his mistake by taking an unrestrained approach to showing off all of the many, many notes in his range that were not related to the melody of the song. 6

Kristen McNamara The misbegotten decision to go back to a field of 36 semifinalists hides its real malice in proportions. If there were 24 this year, and specifically one group of 12 girls, how many of them would be highly sexually attractive with absolutely no musical ability whatsoever? Maybe two or three. But there's got to be like nine in this field of 36, and it's obnoxious. Save us from the package artists! Kristen did Tracy Chapman's "Give Me One Reason," which is a great song but as a straightforward blues doesn't offer a lot of range challenges to the aspiring "Idol" diva. McNamara let the band speed the song up to the degree that she and the audience lost all feeling for it, mumbled until the last thirty seconds or so, and then just started slaughtering notes left and right in an attempt to build to a climax. A brutal and random technical performance. Mostly when "Idol" semifinalists go bad it's one persistent problem that does them in, whether it's being a touch flat, being unable to hold the microphone at a consistent distance, or having no luck negotiating sudden jumps in pitch. Kristen kind of went around the world in musical errors and let's leave it to the numerical score to represent that. 2

Nathaniel Marshall Wow, that was unexpected. We've seen great stuff and terrible stuff from the camera-friendly Nathaniel, who has theatrical instincts that grate and an uncommon, opposing touch as a guitar-strumming folkie that he should really be emphasizing. Nathaniel did "I Would Do Anything for Love (But I Won't Do That)," by Meat Loaf, and it was one of the more awkward performances of the young season. "Idol" has always had an tortured relationship with camp -- it's a big part of the show's appeal, but the judges don't know how to discuss it comfortably. There's always at least one semifinalist who's a clearly gay teenage male, but we're not allowed to acknowledge it or discuss it. Which is weird, since the judges don't have any problem telling young contestants to sing younger songs or black contestants to sing blacker songs. It would have helped the judges if this unofficial gag rule on any discussion of homosexuality didn't exist, because any discussions of Nate's "Anything for Love" has to begin with the wildly context-inappropriate subtext. Gay-seeming teen sings "I Would Do Anything for Love" on national TV, in a broadly campy style? Yikes, I thought the big voting bloc was older women, not dirty old men. I don't know for sure that Marshall is gay, but making a Meat Loaf song into a Eurodisco Richard Simmons exercise number is a pretty loud indicator. Coming back around to my point, it's not quite fair that other contestants can receive helpful criticism when it comes to measuring out the elements of their personalities that go a long way in small doses. The judges should be able to tell somebody like Marshall to dial the camp back while affirming that his unaffected personality, with its camp elements, is the secret to his appeal in the first place. Instead they just stammer and equivocate and it's bad television. Marshall's performance, finally, was not good. Most of the major notes were flat. Too many of the "Idol" hopefuls with a background in high school theater think that being really loud is the same thing as being in key, which it isn't. 4

Felicia Barton Last-minute sub Barton was clearly the most desperate singer on the stage, which didn't hurt. Three weeks of lounging around being in photo shoots and having stylists dress you and do your hair can lead to complacency, as way too many semifinal also-rans have found. Barton and the band didn't quite synch up, but we don't know how much (or how little) practice they had beforehand. In any event the technical hitches, which were few, didn't mask the fact that Felicia is talented and was singing her guts out. On an evening where most of her peers seemed bemused or shell-shocked, that stood out brightly. 8

Scott MacIntyre Give the poor guy his piano back, you jerks! I am growing fonder and fonder of sightless Scott, who seemed like a gimmick in his first appearance. He has an imperfect voice, but rare passion, and there's a quality to his vocals that sucks you in and makes you want to hear more. He had pitch issues on his "Mandolin Road" and I wondered if part of that wasn't due to his being preoccupied with not falling off the smallish "Idol" stage. How are you going to make a blind guy stand up and dance around, "Idol" producers? Have you no shame? MacIntyre profiles as a 70's throwback pop folksinger, not really in the pocket for "American Idol," but if he gets back to his keyboard, watch out. 7

Kendall Beard Kendall's marketability is obvious. She's got the figure, and she's got a sound (Radio Disney meets country) like cash registers ringing. Too bad she sucks. Her falsetto was scratchy and atonal and the big finish was cringe-inducing. I don't have anything else to say about Beard, except that if there's really a wave of overproduced Nashville pop marketed to tweens coming, we have to do everything in our power to stop it. 3

Jorge Nuñez Stealing Anoop's role as the all vocals, no fuss thinking person's candidate, Jorge's "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" was huge. His performance didn't imitate at all, but he didn't try and rewrite the melody either. He has a very robust voice for a little, unassuming guy. He picked his spots to embellish very well. He also has very lovable eyebrows. It seemed completely obvious to me that he was the class of a deeply crappy show and I wonder whether the voting will reflect it. If it does we could see six guys, three girls as finalists going into the wild card next week. That's bad news for the original Anoop. 9

Lil Rounds I wasn't feeling it from Lil, who needs to be held to a much higher standard since the producers have done everything short of sewing and presenting to her a little "Our Favorite" sampler. On this night she was a giant among pygmies in terms of pure talent, but her "Be Without You" was too much coloring within Mary J.'s lines and too little O.G. Lil. For someone who carries herself with such confidence, you'd think Rounds would have developed a vocal style that wasn't cloned from Blige's swoops, rhythmic idiosyncrasies, and heavy breathing. Mary J. Blige is hard to imitate too, since her style draws upon rap in the way her vocals are often heavily syncopated and distinctively phrased. It's hard to match her style, and it's pretty much impossible to match it well without just sounding like a tribute act. During the early section, the one with the most "hip-hop soul," Lil had a lot of pitch problems. She also had noise problems on the mic the whole way through. She's 100% safe but it would be nice if anybody would challenge her ascendency in the very least. 7

Lil, Jorge, and Scott are my predictions for the leading vote-getters. Felicia as a wild card, absolutely -- she was miles better than Lil last night, not that the producers want you to realize that. Crazy stuff could happen with the wild card show if it's really 2:1 guys going in there.

3 Films

Definitely, Maybe

HBO via On-Demand

Love Ryan Reynolds, Abigail Breslin, Isla Fisher, and Elizabeth Banks; hate this movie, which was clearly made by idiots. Reynolds is a divorcing dad who tells his daughter (Breslin) the story of how he met her mother and the other women he was dating at the time. That's kind of weird. Breslin's character doesn't immediately pick up on which one is her mom, which is really weird since she lives with her mother and spends two nights a week with her dad. Why wouldn't she know where her mother went to college, lived after graduation, and the story from her perspective of how she and her dad met? That's weird and really stupid. Then after completing the tale, which has a surprise twist that isn't twisty or surprising, the little girl -- and this is before the ink is even dry on the divorce papers -- goes with her dad to assist in the seduction of a woman not her mother. This is so wrong! So wrong on so many levels! Like an 8-year-old kid is just going to totally accept that her mom and dad aren't right for each other and help him reconnect with the free spirit he hooked up with back in the day. That's so dumb I don't even care that I just gave away the ending. Also, Definitely, Maybe treats working on the Clinton campaign as something to be proud of. I don't know about that either.

The Visitor

Starz via On-Demand

See, I told you I was going to see all the Oscar-nominated films! And maybe I will, if they're all as easy to get a hold of as The Visitor. Moments after I ordered it for free from the cable company I got an e-mail from Netflix letting me know it was also available through their streaming movies service. All the Richard Jenkins a man could want, and no waiting. The Visitor is a bittersweet little character piece with no name actors (sorry, Richard Kind, you don't count) about a university professor living life on autopilot and the magical not-quite-two-weeks in which he meets and befriends the multicultural Middle Eastern family that has been squatting in his rarely-used NYC apartment. The plot summary sort of lays out the whole story of the movie for you if you've seen more than two or three indie films in your life, but I liked how there was no heavy in the picture and no one tried to con or stab anybody else. The only villain here is bureaucracy. The Visitor is about little connections and little misunderstandings and if anything could stand to be a little more aggressive about its own worth. Jenkins is marvelous and completely deserved his Best Actor nomination, but the picture is a little like the actor, who had absolutely no chance of winning. It kind of disappears within itself. An obvious, quiet ending doesn't help at all -- sure, where it ends up is truer to life and the characters, but art's task isn't just to show, it's also to inspire. The lonely professor's friends all get deported... but he learns to play the djembe! I don't think that's going to be enough for most people.

Control

DVD via my keyboard player

Movies about bands are tricky things. The trouble is, movies usually get made by directors and actors, and such personalities are deeply susceptible to the Lone Genius theory of music-making -- that is, that all bands are essentially the work of one brilliant mind and the other guys who play the instruments are about as important to the finished product as key grips and second second assistant directors are to filmmaking. One of the many charming things about Walk Hard is that the fictional support musicians for fictional star Dewey Cox in the film are more well-rounded, distinct presences than any of the backup players in the numerous pictures Walk Hard parodies, whether Ray, Walk the Line, or The Doors. Control is a film beautifully shot in black and white by video director Anton Corbijn, with amazing, vital music performed entirely by the actors who play the members of Joy Division in the film. The trouble is, just like 24 Hour Party People it's obsessed with the tragic, dead lead singer and can barely be troubled with the other three guys who (not insignificantly) wrote and played all the music. I can sort of see portraying Stephen Morris as a monosyllabic lunkhead not much interested in anything besides hitting things with sticks, but Bernard Sumner and Peter Hook were the musical forces between not one but two massively influential groups. They deserve more than "the kind of prissy guy" and "the guy with the beard." Plus the three non-Ian Curtis members of the band always appear as a set, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern with a drummer, which suggests 1) they didn't have distinct personalities and (more damningly) 2) they had no individual relationships with Curtis outside the band. As a Joy Division fan as opposed to a slavering member of Ian Curtis's suicide cult, I'm deeply offended by this. And even as a movie about Curtis as opposed to the band, Control does the man some disservices. Sam Riley is far too beautiful and normally proportioned to play Ian Curtis, and the film treats his epilepsy as an inspiring specter rather than the serious illness it really was. I guess nobody's lining up to make Hook: No Not the Pirate, the Bass Player so this will have to do.